TEXAS T! (BUT SADLY, NO A)

Yeah, this post is a little late. Or a lot late. I was actually going to skip the New Year's recap altogether but under threat of searing, fiery pain (or loss of followers), I have to throw something up so you all feel like you were there with me. (Except you, Lor. Trees totally count.)

After my road-trip plans got quashed I made a frantic call to Riot in Dallas. I found a last-minute flight that wouldn't leave my bank account hemorraging pennies and was on my way to the birthplace of mechanical bulls within 48 hours.

The first place I went to was a "restaurant" called the Tap-In. I liked this place immediately because from far away it looked like "Tap That," AND they had Texas-style karaoke where some dude jumped around like an angry gorilla on meth.

I was also treated to the usual Dallas sight-seeing, which was largely uneventful except for when I managed to bedazzle security at Cowboys Stadium with my beauty and charm and sneak onto the field (read: they were distracted by DD Munchkins which are not at all delicious and I definitely do not follow on Twitter). Whatever. I still got to stand on the 50-yard line, which was totally awesome and one of the highlights of my life.

Would you guys believe me if I said I was at the Cotton Bowl? No? OK then.

Please. Only unbalanced mental patients go into the locker rooms.

I also got to run around Rangers Ballpark, but it was closed so I didn't make too much of an ass out of myself. I hope.

Of course, the most memorable portion of my Dallas excursion may have been when Riot and I found the 24-hour Walmart. I got super excited about the toy section. I mean we. We got super excited.

BTW, this is a doll that I found in Walmart. Note where the "Try Me" hole is located:

That's just fucked up. Not cool, Walmart. Not cool.

To infiltrate 2011, we decided to make the 5-hour drive to Austin armed with 4,000 calorie snacks, two sets of tunes from both of our iPods and Riot's baby, a 14-year-old, 4-pound shivery little diva named Chloe.

Whoever coined the phrase "getting there is half the fun" is a fucking genius, because between stopping for souvenirs, eating at a local (and creepy) Sonic and going through two sets of camera batteries, I don't think I even wanted to get to the hotel. There are some really hilarious pictures of us, including one of me wearing a cowboy hat, that will never make it onto this blog but you can see it on my FB page in all its humiliating glory.

BTW, I forget what hotel we stayed at (I think it was a Radisson or Westin or some shit), but Riot will probably leave a comment reminding me what the name of the hotel was. I'm pretty sure I'm way off. Anyway, we were supposed to get a suite, but we walked in to some kind of Carrie Underwear sing-along shitstorm-crap room with a living area and a fridge. In what kind of Lost-tastic alternate universe is this a suite?

I shelled out for this...

...not this bullshit.

OK, maybe that's an exaggeration, but you get what I mean.

I also made Riot drive me to the local comic book store (of course) where I spent almost half an hour gazing at Superman action figures and Buffy magazines. I knew I should probably get the hell out of there when I got into a lengthy discussion with the guy behind the counter about the upcoming Game of Thrones TV series.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PZ5p18wIQEI&fs=1&hl=en_US]

I also managed to narrowly escape being kidnapped by a total freak of nature, who you guys will definitely be hearing about in a later post. Believe me when I tell you that this guy brings new meaning to the term "Holy Shit."

Our first twelve hours in Austin were spent at Elysium's lame-ass "80's night," where Riot and I made fun of the patrons who obviously did not know how to party like it was 1985. I did get hit on by one clueless loser, but after he made us buy our own drinks, we decided to totally fuck with him and scare him off by letting our true, utterly fantastic personalities break out in full force. Mission accomplished.

Riot has some friends in the area so the next night, they escorted us over to 6th Street, which is where all the live music venues are. I managed to take in a few of them, but there was one that really cemented itself as an epic win. For those of you in relationships, you know that exact moment when you realize that you want to poke holes in the condoms forever because this is it, and you're TOTALLY in love and nothing will ever change because you've found the one?

That's what happened to me at Emo's.

Emo's is a dirty rock bar that's kind of disgusting and is open every night until 2am. They sell cigarettes and serve all their booze in plastic cups, and their bartenders wear t-shirts that advertise Misfits and Suicidal Tendencies. There are two bars- one inside and one outside- and both of them featured loud, obnoxious punk acts. The guys wear more leather and eye-liner than the girls. I was instantly enthralled and I never wanted to leave.

However, there had to be a last call, so my friends pried the last of my drink from my grasp and pulled me into the car. It's safe to say that I partied hard, and that there will be a next time.

So there's my New Year's post. I know that everyone else isn't a complete slacker and got theirs up like, two days after, but I've been really unmotivated and lazy lately. I'm sorry. Please don't leave me. I promise I'll be good.

OK, even I didn't believe that.

And hey, you guys, if you want to sign up for next month's movie review blogring (props to Christina for pimping this out like a fiend), you have until Thursday to email me at thataintkosher83@gmail.com. The list is already bigger than last time, and we're doing shitty rom-coms this month in honor of Valentine's Day. So quit being an asshole, and sign up. NOW.

GINN AND JEW(S)

It’s been a long-ass time since I checked my wallet and realized that I was stupidly low on cash. So of course I decided to take a weekend road trip (HOORAY FOR POVERTY!). I commissioned Ginntastic and let her know I was in dire need of some toxic refreshments, and it took her all of two seconds to give me a when and where.

I got in on Friday, and our Vodkatronic weekend took effect immediately. Ginntastic and her cousin Ale-xis took me to Dick’s, a seafood place where the waitresses make fun of you and make you wear penis hats. I should totally work there.

The best part about Dick’s (besides the moniker, of course), was that the guy performing the awful Dave Matthews covers was seriously loaded.

PS- not to get all dramatic and mushy on you guys, because I’m so not like that, but Fanueil Hall is beautiful at night. If you haven’t been there, you really should go.

So, yeah. We also met this guy who was in totally in love with Ale-xis and followed her so closely all night she could feel his breath on her face. Not cool, A-hole. He looked like the Mad Magazine guy on a three-day coke bender if he’d just run a marathon. Try to picture that without dry-heaving.

So that was my low-key Friday. Saturday was spent pretending we were back in college, and by that I mean sleeping 'til three, having pizza for “breakfast,” and not going to class. Ginntastic introduced me to Boston’s Channel 38, which plays a spectacular array of food porn. I swear that you have never seen cakes that look as amazing as the shit I saw on those shows. We stared slackjawed at the TV until it was time to get ready to go out with Ale-xis and a couple of her ridiculously hot and awesome friends.

I don’t remember shit about Saturday night as a whole (haha… “hole”), but there’s some funny stuff that went down that’s forever sealed in my brain thanks to Facebook. I do remember that we bar-hopped until last call and that the pictures that I have show us getting progressively more hammered as the night wore on. Probably because we had Ben & Jerry's milkshakes for dinner. YES.

Classy as shit, yo.

PS- Check out Gin’s “come over here” face.

The Harvard bar we started out at was actually a lot cooler than I expected. First of all, I didn’t think people at Harvard actually ventured off campus, but most of them were wasted (and, like, 11 years old. Am I really that ancient? I guess so, because I was ready for feetie pajamas at around 1am). Wouldn’t it be hilarious if I asked them to do math problems or something while they were drunk? “Add the shots in this drink! HAHAHA!”

All the specialty drinks were named after awesome songs, like the Sex Pistols’ “Pretty Vacant,” and since we knew all this (or because we were taking semi-pornographic shots with my camera), the bartender was pretty into us. So, sobriety… that was an interesting concept.

Bartender of the Year? Perhaps.

In between downing shots and Facebook sexting with Mandy Moore, we did manage to meet a copious amount of tools. One of the guys that came over to talk to me mentioned that he loved live music, so I gave him my card and told him I know when a lot of shows are. This guy had NO shot with me or any of my friends, but I figured I would network. At 2am, I got a call from this tool accusing me of having a fake number. Uh, you’re actually talking to me, and I gave you my fucking business card, so how about you’re retarded? Also, you look like a rabbit on steroids. FAIL.

BTW, I have never heard so many Boston accents in my life as I did at that bar- and I’ve been to Red Sox games. It was hilarious.

After our 3am snack of- what else?- CRUNCHY NUGGETS!- we finally hit the sack.

Only the finest white meat...

I got super excited and a little turned on when I woke up later and there was a tiny hand on my boob, but it turned out it was just her cat. The last time I felt a nose on my leg was like, a year and a half ago, though, so I'll take it.

When Gin dropped me off at the bus on Sunday it was fucking nuts how sad I was to leave. When I do eventually have to go back to LA I’m going to be totally devastated, but let’s not think about that right now.

BTW, Ale-xis recently started a blog herself. She’s a little nervous about how she’ll be received because she’s dyslexic and her grammatical skills aren’t great, but to those that have the nerve to say anything, Go Fuck Yourself. Her blog actually has the word "dyslexic" in the title, which makes anyone who comments on her mistakes an idiot. The only reason I’m not going to link to it here is because she has pictures up from this weekend, and I’m still pretending I’m totally anonymous and not friends with 2/3 of you on Facebook, but I really admire her for putting herself out there on the Interwebs. Actually, I’m considering having her guest post for me.  I’m in your corner, Dude!

NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS

Halloween has always been my favorite holiday- I look forward to it every year and usually go all out. If the party’s not at my house, I’m always invited to one or have one to crash. Also, my mom’s birthday is the day before so it was instilled in my brain as a kid that Halloween is THE HOLIDAY- even better than Shark Week.

Preparing for Halloween is definitely a lot easier for girls than it is for guys, probably because we can put “slutty” in front of any noun and make a costume (example: slutty dentist, slutty elf, slutty armchair).

Aren't I delightful?

This is kind of ironic considering it’s also associated with eating a shit-ton of candy, and with the lack of fabric used to make most of the disguises one might expect to find inside any random Party City, that might be the one food you would want to stay away from.

If I hit the gym in my head, it still counts, right?

Anyway, I’m broke this year, so I gave my creativity bone (haha… “bone”) a break and bought a pair of black wings that matched a remarkably skanky dress that neither of my parents would have let me out of the house in ten years ago. Not very inventive, but it also only cost me around ten dollars. Normally I leave New York City for Halloween, because it’s a fucking madhouse, but this year I figured “why the hell not?”

I decided to be a partially good daughter and spend Friday and most of the day Saturday with my mom. My brother was supposed to come for her birthday dinner and then I was going to an 80’s club with my girlfriends. On Sunday (the ACTUAL Halloween), I had plans to hit up the famous parade in the Village with another group of friends and then do the midnight showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show in Chelsea (I was most ecstatic about this one- I’m still doing the Time Warp in my head).

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4BZl7pR-65c&fs=1&hl=en_US]

I was diligent about all this planning. This was going to be the best Halloween ever! Last year I had spent it at a lame party with The Subscription, so this was already better by default. Nothing could go wrong.

You’d think I would know better by now. Of course not, because I am an idiot.

So what happened to totally fuck up my favorite holiday and the most kick-ass weekend of the year? I get a FUCKING COLD.



And not a little case of the sniffles, either- this one is a without-warning, knock-me-on-my-ass, phlegmtastic journey through hell. My brother told me I was retarded if I went out. “But… it’s Halloween! I have wings! Non-returnable!” He just looked at me, and yes, I do realize how stupid I sounded.

I also managed to catch a glimpse of myself when I walked past a mirror- I no longer needed a costume. I looked lovely enough.

I called J and let him know that I was a no-show all weekend.

J: “You’re bailing on Halloween?”
ME: “I know. I’m a fraud.”
J: “Fraud is illegal. You could get arrested for that shit.”
ME: “DUDE. I look like death.”
J: “It’s Halloween. That’s fitting.”
ME: The sound of mucus “I really wish I could.  But I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”
J: “But we need you! You bring the boobs.” (Thanks.)
ME: Hideous, guttural hacking noises
J: “Hot. Well, you know where to find us if you change your mind.”


The next thing I did to admit defeat was to hit up Awesome on Facebook to let her know that I would not be making an ass of myself in her presence this year. Was she “disliking” me or my post? One may never know. (UPDATE: Just my post. She still loves me! Probably because I got her a Snuggie for her birthday last year).

So this year I spent my Halloween on the couch watching old episodes of Oprah with my mom (EPIC FAIL) and relentlessly checking Facebook and blog posts for my friends’ constant photo updates. I have no idea why I would punish myself this way, so don’t bother asking. EVERYONE went out for Halloween this year except me.

ME: “So, Mom, guess who else wound up staying home for Halloween?”
MOM:  “Who?”
ME: “NO ONE! I may as well be a leper with open sores!”


Mom made me chicken alphabet soup and I kept spelling out words such as “sad” and “loser” and showing them to her along with my most “adorable” dejected facial expressions. I almost got all the letters for “pathetic” but I was missing the “h” and the “i.” I thought she might appreciate this grand gesture since she loves Wheel of Fortune, but my efforts went largely ignored.

Anyway, Halloween is over and I’m still downing soup like it’s vodka and blowing through Kleenex like they’re half-naked European boys holding boxes full of orphaned puppies with hundred dollar bills in their mouths.  At least I have no sense of taste or smell, so this is like, the best diet ever!

I’m also popping these monstrosities. What the F, Walgreens? NO.

PS- In case you guys are outraged that I wasn’t watching The Walking Dead, let me remind you that my grandma has no cable and no Internet, which is also why I haven’t been able to post for this long. I'd like to promise that this won't happen again, but we all know how fucking lazy I am. Anyway, I DVR’d that shit back in LA so I don’t miss a second. Don’t leave me any spoilers, or when the zombie apocalypse comes, I’ll totally let them eat you.

Also, I totally called the Giants before the season even started. Congrats, San Fran!

PROCESS THIS

I know you guys think I'm totally slacking off because I'm having too much fun passed out drunk on my friends' couches and sleeping until noon. Well, yes. But, also, no. I'm also busy being a good daughter/granddaughter/sister and helping my mom out around the house, and jetting off to different boroughs trying to find an Internet connection so I can get some work done and write some blog posts because I love you all. Wow, that was a mouthful (that's what she said).

Anyway, I've also been dropping off resumes and lining up interviews like a mofucker. It's been so long since I've been in the jobhunting game that I've forgotten what it's like to be out of it. I feel like I should be on Fast Animals, Slow Children.



The worst part of the process is that retarded questionnaire the places make you fill out with the Strongly Agree-Disagree-I Don't Give A Shit crap. Take a glimpse at some of the bullshit I had to pretend to care about in order to not make four dollars an hour:

I generally like everyone.
Strongly Disagree. Basically I just tolerate them until 5 o'clock.

Stealing is wrong.
Define "steal." Do you mean "steal" as in "take without asking if you intended to put it back later but forgot?" Or "I believe that everything was meant to be mine in the first place?"

All people are inherently good.
No. All people are looking to screw me and take credit for my ideas.

I do well under pressure.
HAHAHAHAHAHA!

I respect  mock authority.


I make friends easily.
Excuse me, does this rag smell like chloroform?

Describe an experience where you were faced with a stressful situation and explain how you dealt with the pressure. Would you have changed your behavior? Why or why not?
I remember this one time I was just starting college and I was piss-broke, so I took a shitty retail job. At the same time I was also working as an Assistant GM at a bar where we had mandatory staff meetings every Sunday, which I made sure to tell the idiots at this other place. Of course, these NASA scientists forgot and scheduled me for a Sunday. I reminded my manager in advance about my staff meeting and she was totally cool, letting me come in at three the next day.

So I show up at three on Monday, drop my stuff in the back room, and there are four "higher-ups" in there with power-trip expressions on their faces. One of them "clued me in" to the fact that I'm three hours late. "No, I'm not," I tell him. "I'm on at three today." Another primate points to my name on the schedule at noon, even though I insist that I was told three by my manager, who just stands there like a fucking traitor with downcast eyes. Then everyone gets pissy because I "didn't show up yesterday" and didn't call. I was then informed that I was being let go.

"Are you fucking kidding me with this?" (That was my actual response) "I told you guys I couldn't work on Sundays when you hired me. Take this fake schedule and shove it up your ass." Then I looked at my bitch manager and told her to go fuck herself, and, by the way, "good luck finding anything more fulfilling than the fucking mall, you pussy."

Yeah, I don't work there anymore.

Would I have changed my behavior that day? Yes- I would have ordered them all killed.

Note: I don't really look like this.

Maybe I should work on my issues.

Anyway, a few of my interviews did go pretty well, and I'm hoping to hear back in a few weeks. In the meantime, I'm running out of funds, but I have a few fun weekends coming up, including a trip to Philly, (possibly) a Boston jaunt and some more family outings. I guess I'll have to rely on my dazzling good looks and striking personality when I inevitably contract Dry Wallet Syndrome (among other stuff- hey-o!).

BTW, if any of you are hanging around NYC, drop me an email- thataintkosher83@gmail.com.

SORRY, I COULDN'T HEAR YOU OVER THE SOUND OF AWESOME

I think by now it's borderline superfluous to mention how obsessed I am with the band Shiny Toy Guns. I think I've probably written about them in this blog one or a hundred times, so I'll just start off this post with

SHINY TOY GUNS! SHINY TOY GUNS! SHINY TOY GUNS!

Sorry. I'll stop now.


They performed at the Sunset Junction festival this weekend and as soon as I found out about it a few weeks ago I annoyed everyone right up until the second they went on. I've been furiously checking for years to see when this band was supposed to play near me, so short of winning a bajillion dollars, this was probably the greatest thing that could have happened to me right now (Honestly, I probably would have preferred the bajillion dollars. I'm broke as hell).

The Sunset Junction festival takes place in Silverlake every year, and for 20 bucks you can see close to 40 bands. There's also carnival rides, copious amounts of booze, spectacularly shitty food and street vendors from local stores, newspapers and radio stations. I hung out with the guys from KROQ for a while and they were both really cool.

Because it was a street fair, the prices were insane. I got a $5 milkshake- the only time that's acceptable is in Pulp Fiction, and even John Travolta got pissed. I also took major offense with the candy apples- mixing candy and fruit is like bringing your favorite stuffed animal with you to a maximum security prison- it's a surefire way to get plowed painfully up the ass.

Also, the ATM fees were $3.50. What the fuck???!!!! They didn't even bother to kiss me first.

The bands, on the other hand, were well worth the price of admission. When I was bothering the guys at the KROQ booth I discovered these guys called Saint Motel. They gave off a laid-back rock vibe that I was totally into, and the best part is that they're playing here next week, too, so I get to see them again.

I was also excited for Eastern Conference Champions. One of my old co-workers turned me onto them about a year and a half ago, but I've never seen them live. I ignored the fact that they contributed a song to one of the Twilight soundtracks because their sound is THAT good. They're just good enough for the hipsters back in Brooklyn without actually being hipster. Plus the guitarist is a chick, and I'm pretty sure the band name is a hockey reference. Check them out.

Surprisingly, one of the best acts of the night was Fishbone, who I wasn't going to go see because I'm not into them at all, but they were right next to where I brought my diamond-encrusted milkshake so I couldn't help but overhear. They did a kick-ass cover of Ozzy's "Iron Man." Yes, you read that right. I was kind of blown away, actually. It was out of their genre, but extremely well done. I may check out more of their material because of it.

Unfortunately I couldn't make Ghostland Observatory or Bad Brains because they were both on at the exact same time as SHINY TOY GUNS! and there was NO WAY IN HELL I was going to miss a single second of that show. I was pretty bummed about Ghostland, but I'd already seen Bad Brains a while ago so it wasn't that huge of a loss.

As it got darker out it crept closer and closer to SHINY TOY GUNS! time. I had run into a friend of a friend and I had warned him that he was going to witness me make a complete ass of myself. I don't think he took me seriously until 8:55 rolled around and some dude came out with the SHINY TOY GUNS! banner. I started growing restless and my friend began to back away.

SHINY TOY GUNS! were supposed to go on at 9pm but, with a background in the music business, I knew that probably meant around 9:15. At 9:20 the lights dimmed and I started jumping around like a dying caterpillar on meth. This could also probably be attributed to the contact high that I most likely received from the joint that was being passed around right next to me. Gotta love Silverlake.


SHINY TOY GUNS!


The show itself was absolutely fucking incredible. SHINY TOY GUNS! is mostly an electronica act so they relied largely on awesome visuals. Some girl in a bikini top and skirt came out and fucking ATE FIRE.

There were weird creatures that danced around on stage and fondled their own boob-type-things.

Some dude came out and did gymnastics/ballet-type stuff.

The thong was highly unappreciated.

There was an androgynous alien-like thing that moved around on stage like it was evil.

The cheapest way to get rid of crabs.

I took so many pictures that the batteries in my camera lasted about twenty minutes. Unfortunately my camera blows and has a delay on it so a lot of the pictures came out blurry. Fuck you, Nikon Coolpix.


I was waiting for about eight songs and they played every single one. When they got to "Rainy Monday" (my current favorite) I went totally fucking nuts and started dancing around like a lunatic. I put up so many Facebook updates during the day that one of my friends sent me a text that read "Shut the fuck up about Shiny Toy Guns." No, YOU shut the fuck up. You're jealous (probably not. I was just being really obnoxious).

Apparently SHINY TOY GUNS! play in SoCal a lot so I'll get to see them again. I'm piss broke but I would gladly dip into my non-existent bank account to see them over and over again because they are SICK live.

Not like you need it again, but here's their official link:

SHINY TOY GUNS!


I think I've effectively gotten the fever out of my system for now. I know I was really insufferable, and everyone around me was probably looking forward to the show just so I would shut the hell up. Thanks for putting up with me.


There's another music festival next weekend, which you'll hear about, but I won't be nearly as irritating.

DON'T MAKE US GO ZELDA ON YOU

A couple of posts back I predicted that Scott Pilgrim vs. The World would do well at the box office. As mind-blowing as it is to believe, I was wrong (I know. Try not to fall over). Despite generally favorable reviews, massive promotional efforts and dizzying Comic-Con buzz, Scott Pilgrim scraped in just $10.5 million and came in FIFTH, behind The Expendables, Eat, Pray, Vomit, and two films that had already been in theaters for some time. So what the hell just happened?

I think I might have an idea. I completely geeked out in the theater (let's just say I'm glad I went alone), and I'm sorely disappointed that Scott Pilgrim didn't decimate the competition, but I've been turning this over in my head and I've finally come to the following conclusions as why the film didn't do as well as it should have:

THE CURSE OF MICHAEL CERA- I don't mean to be a bitch (really), but the kid hasn't exactly proven to be a box office draw. Since the culmination of Arrested Development, he's done several movies that have come out in wide release where he's had top or equal billing, and the reviews and box office intake have, for the most part, not exactly insured this guy a lifetime career. Let's go over his so-called "bankability:"

SUPERBAD ( Aug. 17, 2007)- Box Office Intake: $121.5 million Rotten Tomatoes Scale: 87% (7.4/10)

JUNO (Dec. 25, 2007)- The obvious exception to the Curse, indie flick Juno pulled in $143.4 million and scored a 93% on the RT scale. The movie also garnered the Best Screenplay Oscar and was also nominated for a bunch of other Academy Awards, including Best Picture.

According to imdb.com, Juno also cleaned up at numerous other film festivals, both domestic and international.
I might be the only one on the planet that actually hated this movie. I thought it was really boring and the stupid made-up slang annoyed the shit out of me. Then again, looking at all of the accolades it received, I guess my opinion doesn't matter.

NICK AND NORAH'S INFINITE PLAYLIST (Oct. 3, 2008)- B.O. Intake: $31.5m RT Scale: 73% (6.5/10)

YEAR ONE ( Jun. 19, 2009)- B.O. Intake: $43.3m RT Scale: 14% (3.8/10)

YOUTH IN REVOLT (Jan. 8, 2010)- B.O. Intake: $15.2m RT Scale: 69% (6.4/10)

SCOTT PILGRIM VS. THE WORLD (Aug. 13, 2010)- Opening Weekend Gross: $10.5m RT Scale (so far): 81% (7.4/10)

It seems as if Cera just can't carry a project on his own. One could argue that Arrested Development had its own success, but even that was cancelled after only three seasons and had more of a cult following even though it was one of the most hilarious, most demented programs ever to grace the small screen.Word is is that Cera was the one holding up the movie because he wanted to concentrate on his burgeoning film career, until he probably realized that he didn't have one and then finally signed on. I would have been fine with them doing it without him anyway- George-Michael was the worst part of the show. Hopefully the writers will focus mostly on Jason Bateman, Will Arnett and David Cross. Can you tell I was not a fan of the show AT ALL?

PROMO OVERLOAD- Here in LA there are STILL Scott Pilgrim billboards every three feet. They're like Starbucks. In the months leading up to the film's release, I couldn't turn on the TV without a commercial during every single ad break. I was totally spazzing out for this movie, and even I found it gratuitous. Comic-Con attendees and other fanboys/girls got their own advanced screenings as well, so by the time this movie actually rolled into theaters, a lot of the graphic novel devotees had most likely already seen it- for free.

These are still EVERYWHERE.

SPLIT MARKETING TACTICS/RELEASE DATE HELL- Scott Pilgrim could also have been a victim of its own indecision. In order to land opposing demographics, there were different ads that ran on TV- one that featured the romantic side of the film and another that focused on the video game/fighting style. Unfortunately for Scott Pilgrim, it was hit with the release date of August 13th, which also saw the opening of two other films where both of those genres were already covered. The Expendables is basically two full hours of solid ass-kicking with legendary action stars, and Eat, Pray, Stab is the token summer chick flick. It's feasible that men heading to the movies this weekend were either drawn to The Expendables, which opened at number one at $34.8m , or were dragged by their significant others to the Julia Roberts shitfest, which took a distant number two (how appropriate) at $23.1m.


IMO, another example of a less-than-stellar marketing choice is Jennifer's Body, which was advertised as a horror movie. I went to see it with a friend because we were bored and were looking for a bad movie that we could make fun of, but we were surprised that the film fit into the "black comedy" genre and was actually funny. It's in no way an excellent film, but I didn't find it to be nearly as horrible as I was expecting. If Jennifer's Body had been marketed to moviegoers looking for a comedy, perhaps the box office and the reception wouldn't have been as terrible.


GEOGRAPHICAL PURGATORY- The humungous chasm in the center of Julia Robert's head swallowed the remaining cash that Scott Pilgrim pulled in.

My consolation for Scott Pilgrim's dismal performance at the box office is that nerds such as myself are incredibly loyal to the pop culture fixtures that we love. I'm hoping that it will find a rabid audience and top DVD sales and downloads, and will at least break even in theaters eventually. Director Edgar Wright has made some respected cult films (Hot Fuzz and Shaun of the Dead), and is well-respected among my fellow geeks, who are continuing to dominate pop-culture, so at least we can probably anticipate more from him. People did actually go to this movie (you can't pull ten and a half mil out of your ass), and everyone I know that did see it raved about it. We will have our day, and we will prevail!

THE RELOCATION CHRONICLES, CHAPTER ONE: PACKING HEAT

So here's the short version of what's been going on with me for the past six months and why I've been more of a turbo-bitch than usual:

For about a year I worked for this company that recently went totally under, and my job search proved to be an epic disaster. Because the lease for my apartment is up at the end of this month, my dad is making me stay with him in Los Angeles because the freelance stuff I've been doing, while I love it with a passion, isn't getting my bills paid.

There are so many reasons why this is a gargantuan level of suck. First of all, besides my dad, everyone I love is back East. This includes 95% of my family, all my friends, and every single shred of sanity that I can still stake a claim to. Not to mention I'll be living with my dad, which in my twenties is an astronomical cockblock. Of course, he also chooses the Summer to force me to do this. Thanks, Dad.

Second- I'm a New Yorker. I was born there, raised there, have the accent, root for the sports teams (except the Yankees- can't stand 'em), downloaded all the songs, own all the movies, know all the subway lines by heart, etc. The food is amazing, the public transportation can't be beat and the culture puts every other city in the world to shame. Where else can you travel to six countries in two blocks- on foot? Yeah, the cost of living will bleed you dry and leave you in a dumpster in a dirty alley in Brownsville, but ask anyone that rents there and they'll still tell you that it's the best city on the planet.

Third- LA sucks. Everyone there is only concerned with how famous they're going to become, and it never pans out and they just wind up doing porn. Yeah, the dry heat is definitely conducive to my Jew-fro, but I own a flatiron so I don't care. The pizza is awful, the only public transportation they have are buses that come every nine hours and cabs that fuck you up the ass, and the lack of culture is appalling. Plus I don't get any of my Jets games. Everybody in LA is full of shit- it's probably the reason their roots are all brown.



For some reason my dad loves it there and is totally convinced that if I "gave it a chance," I would, too. I've given it tons of chances- I even lived there for a few months- and every time I go there I hate it even more. Moving is stressful enough when you're actually relocating to a place you want to go to- now I have to deal with this shit on top of it. I'd rather be getting on a spaceship to Jupiter. I'll pretty much be on a different planet, anyway.



Luckily this move is only supposed to be temporary- I'm planning on just going for a few months, working a few part-time gigs and saving up enough to get my ass back home sometime in the Fall. This is probably good for you guys, because I can only imagine that my blog posts will get exponentially more bitter, and thus more hilarious.

The actual "moving" part is pretty aggravating in itself. There's all the little shit I have to remember to do such as forwarding my mail, canceling utilities, dealing with my cheap-ass landlord who was of no help the entire year that I lived here, and then there's the bigger, annoying stuff like packing.

I HATE packing. Besides the actual "going to LA" part, packing is probably what I detest the most about this whole moving deal. The only good thing about it is that I finally have rug burn on my knees that I actually don't have to lie to my mom about. Also, I'm probably burning some calories by rummaging through my shit and making and lifting the boxes. I guess.

My family has been coming and going, helping me get my shit together and store it in my brothers' basement, and also making sure that I don't go completely crazy and purposely break a bunch of crap. They're taking most of my furniture, which is great because that means I'll get it back later. I've also been going through my clothes, shoes and bags, giving away what I don't want anymore to homeless shelters and Goodwill. After the shitty attitude I've been hauling around since I got the news, it felt good to do something nice.

Anyway, I'm cataloging my entire moving experience as a way to get my head in perspective and my ass in gear. Hopefully it'll only be until sometime in October, and then I'll be back, ready to find a new place to live, a better East Coast job and to reconnect with everybody I left behind. I've got New York on my iPod, in my DVR and in my heart, and no matter what Los Angeles tries to do to me, that will never change.



Here's something to leave you (and me) with.