THE RELOCATION CHRONICLES, CHAPTER SEVEN: SPANK YOU VERY MUCH, CALIFORNIA

Now that Labor Day weekend has come, raided the liquor cabinet and gone, the state of California is really driving it in that summer is over. Today I woke up to disgusting clouds and an absent sun, and the prediction for the next ten days doesn't look much more promising.

And here's the forecast for New York City for the next week and a half, according to weather.com.

What the fuck, Southern California??? My friends back home are supposed to be jealous of me, not the other way around. Do you think that just because little kids are forced to ride the school bus again you can just take away shorts and beaches and shit? NO. It's bad enough I spent the entire summer here; why don't you just bend me over and hit me with a paddle some more? You fail at life.

However, I do need to take into account that this may be because the entire state of California is just really fucking weird. The reason I always carry my camera with me is not because I may cross paths with a minor, F-list celebrity. It's because I'm a blogger, and the crap that I see around here is so ridiculous that I couldn't make this shit up and I need documentation. For example:

The other day I was on a supermarket run, and within five minutes I had photographic evidence of some glorious gems that I knew I would wind up posting on this site sooner or later. Observe:

I'm an eight-year-old.

This needs zero explanation.

And, the one that made me go, "Eh?"

In Original and Vanilla!

I swear to God that's real. Hemp Milk. That you can drink. I can't even imagine finding that anywhere else. I really want to buy this just so I can save the packaging forever.

Hemp milk kind of makes sense here. When I was filling out all those job applications and it had that "have you ever been convicted of a felony" question, all of them actually said, "California applicants: do not include marijuana charges." I'm serious! I wanted to put down something like, "Really? Sweet!" I remember before my dad moved, he used to live a few blocks away from a medical marijuana "clinic." Right. "Clinic."

Anyway, at least I'm finding humor in my less-than-ideal situation. I knew that being a partial LA resident would at least provide some fodder for the blog, and really, I couldn't lie about this shit if I wanted to.

ALWAYS USE PROTECTION

Summer may be over, but I'm not that depressed because today marks the beginning of COLLEGE FOOTBALL SEASON!

I'm a relative newcomer to the NCAAF scene; I've only been a fan for the last couple of years. It began when I first lived in LA and I couldn't watch my beloved Jets games as they weren't broadcast on the West Coast and I was too broke for the million dollar DirecTV football package. LA doesn't have a pro football team, and I couldn't bring myself to root for San Diego because they're in the same conference as the Jets. I had to do something, though- I was going through major football withdrawal.


Luckily, people that live in LA have two NCAA teams to choose from- the Trojans (USC) and the Bruins (UCLA). Around this time, Mark Sanchez was still in college and therefore still playing for the Trojans, who I was already slowly forming an alliance with because some of my friends had gone to the school and also because the team was named after a condom. Then came the NFL Draft, and Sanchez moved on to the Jets. BAM! I was sold.


I tried to give a shit about UCLA, but they barely even register and aren't even in the power rankings. So while there is a rivalry between the two schools, I could really care less. I do have friends that go for UCLA, so they've probably already stopped reading. Whatever. Asshats.

The Trojans/Bruins rivalry is actually pretty funny because while Bruins fanatics hate USC, Trojans fans really could give a crap about UCLA because UCLA sucks balls. It's kind of like watching one of those cartoons where the tiny dude rushes at the massive giant and the giant holds the smaller guy off by putting a hand on his face.


The Trojans open their season tonight against the Hawaii Warriors and my team is favored by at least 20, because Hawaii blows. Awesome. It's on ESPN at 11pmEST/8pmPST.

Not my actual shirt, but close enough.

There's also another NCAA team that I root for, the Florida Gators. Before you're all like, "Of course, because they're awesome, blah blah," I think you actually know me well enough to know that I'm not one of those stupid bandwagoner idiots.


When I was a kid we had two dogs that were the most awesome, adorable dogs ever, and one of them was constantly happy and smiled all the time. Whenever he made that face he looked exactly like an alligator, and the Florida logo reminds me of him.

Florida Gators logo...

And my puppy.

Dude. It's uncanny.


My love for the Gators used to be based solely on my memories of my childhood pet, but it grew due to the fact that the team has been consistently performing in the power rankings. As a result, I really fucking hate Alabama, who knocked Florida out of the championships last year. Alabama is predicted to be number one again this year, which massively pisses me off. The two teams are set to have a repeat showdown on October 2nd, and I really hope it's broadcast here because I might riot if it's not.


Anyway, I'm really psyched for tonight, which consists of Futurama and the Trojans season opener, which I can't afford to attend so I'll have to settle for checking it out on my couch. This blog is going to get really sport-y in the coming months, so I'm giving you a heads up NOW.


FIGHT ON!

TONIGHT, TONIGHT

I finally woke up from my all day nap just to do a blog post. I don't know if that's dedication or a sickness.

After this weekend, I've made the decision that there will be no more live shows for me for a while. I'm completely music'd out (in a good way, of course). We'll see how long that lasts.

RockStar came back into town on Friday after almost a yearlong absence. We used to hang out when I worked in LA last year, and I gave her this illustrious nickname because of her ridiculous musical talent (she plays something like 900 instruments), as well as her ability to consume copious amounts of those disgusting energy drinks. Anyway, Unwritten Law was performing on Friday night, so I invited her to come to the show with me and get some catch-up dinner beforehand. And guess what we ate? Yup- milkshakes. She's lived here half her life and has never even heard of Millions of Milkshakes, the best place to grow cellulite on the planet. This was almost offensive, so I had to buy her one. Mine was coffee flavored and loaded with massive chunks of cookie dough and brownies. Yup, I'm a health nut.

BTW, they're open until 2am. Fuck, yes.

Unwritten Law was killer live. They only played a few bars of "Rest Of My Life," but I was so psyched to see them that I barely noticed. Everything else was included in their set list anyway, and I got a cool-ass t-shirt, so it was totally worth it.

I love going to shows with RockStar because she grew up around music, like I did. She doesn't embarrass easily and therefore doesn't give a shit when I freak out and start jumping up and down like a loon and screaming the lyrics out to all the songs. I actually think she finds it kind of awesome, and even if she doesn't, she never says anything.

On Saturday, LA closed down one of their most famous areas (ha... "areas") for their 2nd Annual Sunset Strip Music Festival. I spent most of the day chilling with RockStar again, eating bad pizza and checking out local unsigned bands.

First up was Saint Motel, who I was psyched to see again after discovering them last weekend at Sunset Junction. They were just as awesome this time around.

After watching Saint Motel and downing what was probably her fifth energy drink, RockStar had to pee and there was no way in hell we were using those disgusting Port-A-Potties, so we went into the Hustler store. They didn't have a bathroom, but they did have a really funny porn section and also a hilarious collection of shoes that would only be appropriate on Halloween or in a Lady GaGa video. After consistent urging from Rockstar and three salesgirls, I walked out with a pair of clear, ten-inch platform stilettos. I will probably never wear them again (at least not standing up) and I looked like a hot mess, so it was definitely the stupidest investment of my life, but it might make a good story to tell the grandkids someday.

Or not.

Yeah, good luck with these.

After being bestowed with Hustler beads (heretofore dubbed "Excalibur"), it was time to catch our friend Joe's band, Lady Sinatra, play at the Cat Club. We decided that I should definitely wear the shoes, so I ducked into the disgusting "ladies'" room and changed into the band's t-shirt and my new footwear. The look on Joe's face was absolutely priceless as I nonchalantly walked up to him all, "hey, what's up?" He was just like, "are you serious with this right now?" No one even noticed that my t-shirt was a clever marketing strategy because I was taller than everyone else in the room. Strangers were taking pictures of my feet and RockStar was laughing her ass off.

During all this, RockStar had met this incredibly annoying guy who was obsessed with touching us, not to mention he was a Close Talker, like the guy on Seinfeld:


[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=91s5b93W03k&fs=1&hl=en_US]

He kept trying to hold my feet, which I can't stand. I HATE feet- I think they're gross. Mine, other people's, whatever. Foot fetishes are totally beyond me. During Joe's set, this annoying little elf kept putting his hand on the small of my back just above my ass, which was doubly irritating because it was really throwing off my balance in my new tranny heels. He mentioned that he was there to watch his friend's band, and that we should come, and I told him that we wanted to stay, but he should go, and he STILL stayed there! Note to all potential stalkers: if a girl tells you to leave, you fucking disappear. He followed us out the door and tried to guide us out of there again, and I let him know in no uncertain terms that I knew where the door was and that I didn't need his help. Finally, he left.

As soon as we got rid of that assclown we got pulled over by two other alcoholics who won our affections by ordering us to "come here." Unfortunately for me, RockStar actually liked one of them so I had to take one for the team while she flirted with the cute one until my dad sent me a text to meet him at a local restaurant. The plan was to get dinner with him and then go see Slash, followed by the evening's main event, Smashing Pumpkins.

I'm not THAT into Slash, but I do appreciate that the man is a guitar legend. I blocked out the part where he played with Fergie and just enjoyed the music.

The best part of the entire day, besides putting that annoying little troll in his place, was seeing Smashing Pumpkins. I grew up in the grunge era and will automatically give you cool points if you list Gish in your rotation. What's even cooler is that my dad loves them even more than I do, and RockStar is obsessed with them to the point where I was a little afraid of her, so the concert was a "fun for the whole family" type-deal.

The band didn't do "Disarm," which disappointed me a little, but they did do every other song you could possibly think of. "Cherub Rock," which is my favorite, was fucking fantastic. Their encore was "Zero," and it kicked a serious amount of ass until someone, and I have no idea who, let out the nastiest fucking blast of ass air that I actually choked on. I felt really horrible for my dad because he told me that it actually went down his throat, like that time with Mort Goldman and the dog in Family Guy. It was so awful that we were still reliving the moment the morning after the show.

Also, and completely off topic, I have to get in a quick EAT ME to the Emmys for completely pissing on Lost and letting it sign off with absolutely nothing. We get that you love Mad Men, but does it have to win EVERY year? Lost is over and will never have another chance to win anything. EMMY FAIL.

I'm trying not to let that bring me down, though. I'm stoked about Modern Family wiping the floor with the Comedy categories, and even though I don't really watch Big Bang Theory, I have seen it a few times and have to say that Jim Parsons' win is well deserved, especially because this probably means that nerds are one step closer to our eventual world domination. Also, A is actually friends with Jim Parsons, so I kind of look at this as a win for her too.

So even though it came an entire era of music later, I still got to see SMASHING FUCKING PUMPKINS live and have an awesome weekend with my friend who I hadn't seen in over a year. My concert list is almost complete now- I still haven't gotten to Radiohead or a few of the others on my list, which I might post soon, but for now, I think I'm taking a break and a couple of long-ass naps.

Q & T & A!

So you may have noticed the Formspring link on the bottom of this blog.

I figured that even though I'm still totally anonymous, it might be fun for you guys to pry into my private life and ask me some stuff, much like how I snoop through the medicine cabinets of new guys that I'm dating (hey, no one likes nasty surprises from the vadge doctor).

I got some pretty imaginative questions, so here are the ones I chose to address (someone actually asked what my astrological sign was. Are you serious? We're all writers here; that's really the best you could come up with? I'm ashamed for you. I'm a Capricorn, BTW). Nothing was held back; I don't get embarrassed or grossed out, obviously.

Here are some of my favorites, based on the creativity of the question or how funny of an answer I can pull out of my ass:

So how many brothers do you actually have? It sometimes seems like you only have one, but then sometimes you talk about having more than one.


My brother is a schizo with multiple personalities.

No, seriously, I have two. They're both younger than I am, and when we were kids we used to constantly kick each other's ass. Now we all get along and we're really close.

Do you have any tattoos/piercings/visible scars?

I wish. My parents had my ears pierced when I was a baby, but I stopped wearing earrings a while ago so the holes closed up (haha... "holes"). As for tattoos, I'm dying to get at least one, but I have debilitating panic attacks even thinking about needles, so there's a 99.9999% chance that that's never going to happen. I know exactly what I would get, and where: It would be on my wrist, and it would be the Hebrew symbol for strength, which would be ironic because Jews aren't allowed to be buried in a Jewish cemetery if they "desecrate" their body. Oh well.

As for scars, I have a really stupid story  to go with mine. About eight years ago my mom asked me to get her a plate from the kitchen and the door to one of her cabinets fell off when I opened it, slicing my finger in the process. It was bleeding all over the place and took off about three layers of skin. So there's my retarded scar story. Most scars are cool but mine is really, really lame. I probably should have made something up.

How about this: I was in a bayonet fight with seventeen ninjas and twelve pirates. While I was defending myself and simultaneously guarding a barrelful of orphaned puppies I got distracted by a truck full of diamonds and one of the ninjas cut my finger with his sword.

There. Much cooler.

Which of your friends/family is the farthest away from you right now? How many of them are actually still in New York?

This is a good one. Thanks to blogging I have friends all over the country. I actually went to Google Maps to find out exactly which one of them is the farthest distance away, in miles, and that would be Ginntastic, in Boston.

How many are actually in New York? At last count, at least half.

Now I'm depressed. Thanks a lot, asshole.


Do you really love doing laundry that much?

Why don't you come over and see for yourself? Wait- are you hot?


What exactly do you in the music business?

Let's see if I can do this without giving anything away:

I work in management and promotions. I'm the manager/booking agent for unsigned bands back on the East Coast, and I handle their touring, merchandise, booking, etc. My hours are erratic and I get to drink on the job. Some of the people I deal with are total douchebags, but most of them are incredibly awesome. Also, I work with mostly dudes, which sometimes sucks but also means that no one starts shifting uncomfortably when I mention sports or comics, or pack away eleven pounds of fries in one sitting. I usually deal with New York City but I also cover a lot of the big cities on the East Coast. It's my passion, but unfortunately the pay isn't that great, hence my location switch and forceful shove into the employment hunt.

At my old job, I worked the A&R circuit for an indie record label, and ran the youth marketing division. I loved that too, but the label exploded faster than the Bob-Ombs from Mario Bros.

Do you really swear as much IRL as you do in your blog?

Fuck yes.


Where did you go to school?

Yeah, right; like I'm giving that away. I will tell you, however, that I studied Marketing with an Economics minor.


You probably have a hilarious sex story.

A) that's not in the form of a question, and B) yes, I do. A few years ago I was at work and I cut my foot open on a metal rack. It was really disgusting, I had to get a tetanus shot and I got to call out for two weeks. Awesome. Plus I was prescribed Vicodin, which left me higher than Lindsay Lohan in a hot-air balloon after a three-day bender. Sweet.

After being bedridden for weeks, my friends decided to take me to this bar where this dude worked that I was obsessed with. Everyone there knew it was only a matter of time before we were making sweet monkey love by candlelight on 4,000-thread count sheets. Or porking up against a dumpster in an alley. Whatever. He was totally hot so I didn't give a shit.

Anyway, I "ran into" him (read: circled the bar) and he told me he was going outside for a smoke. Of course he practically threw me against the wall outside where we groped each other like seventh graders for the next twenty minutes until he got off (no, actually got off- as in, it was time for him to clock out and go home). We wound up in a cab back to his place where we commenced with the groping while I ignored the "where the hell ARE you???" texts from my friends (like they didn't know).

Once the clothes came off I realized that this was, potentially, the best In-N-Out I had ever received IN MY LIFE. This guy was a total slut so I didn't expect anything really terrible, but nothing as earth-shattering as what was going on below the pelv. We were on what seemed like the eighth position switch when he did this move that required my leg to be up against the wall and BAM!- that's when my foot knocked against the plaster. Yup, THAT foot.

Dude- there was blood EVERYWHERE. It looked like a kindergartener's art project. It was on the wall. The ceiling. The dresser. The bed. It was like Jason Voorhees had come in and gotten slice-happy. It was fucking NASTY.

The worst part was is that this charming intellectual kept going. When I screamed out "OH SHIT!!!!" he thought it was for the reason most women yell that out in the middle of sexy times. I was in so much pain I thought I was going to pass out. When he was finally done, like nine years later, he looks at me and goes, "I didn't know you were on the rag. That's fucking gross." I got up, hobbled to the bathroom, wrapped my foot up in paper towel, and called a cab.

The invite to our wedding is in the mail.

What's your favorite website that's not a blog?

I'm not going to say 20SB again, because I've whored that out more than enough. So besides that, I'm going to have to go with Pajiba.com.


I LOVE your blog- you're an amazing writer. If you could have any writing  job, what would it be?

First of all, thanks; anyone that compliments me is automatically in the club. Second, whenever I read anything I always mock people's poor grammar and atrocious spelling, so if I could be an editor, I would take that. By the way, Y-O-U(apostrophe)R-E is you are, as in the descriptive, and Y-O-U-R is your, as in the possessive. It's not that fucking tough!

Also, if Chelsea Handler is reading this, and she needs a writer for her round table, I'm available. I love her.

However, my DREAM dream writing job would have to be in music journalism, like the William Miller character in Almost Famous. If I ever got an opportunity like that I would probably cream myself.

So there were my ten favorite questions. If there's anything I left out, feel free to click the link, and I'll cover them in my next round.

Also, my 69th post is coming up, so to celebrate, I'll be featuring a guest blogger. I'll keep you posted on that.

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 SIX: TIE ONE ON

This post goes out by request.

A few days ago I got an email from N, one of my first friends in LA, who invited me to a 30th birthday party in Santa Monica. I LOVE N- she's a world traveller who speaks a multitude of foreign languages, is college-educated, classy and cultured, but also isn't afraid to act like a total three-year-old whenever we go out to dinner and order little kid milkshakes (sometimes they have Scotch in them, but whatever). None of her friends and family are of the typical LA variety, either- meaning I can actually hold a conversation with them where I can use words that contain more than two syllables. The first time I met N she told me that she loved to read and without even thinking I replied, "books?" Luckily, she laughed. Also, she loves Lost.

So I got to this party last night and was immediately introduced around as "the writer." Despite the fact that I don't get paid shit for keeping this blog, I do love it and it's nice to be recognized. Some money would be nice, though. Ha! I kid. Kind of.

I also finally met N's boyfriend, Mr. N. We work in the same industry, or at least we did- we're both currently dealing with the shitstorm that is the job-hunting process. He's a really nice guy, and we had a lot to talk about. The insane part was that N was actually really excited that I was monopolizing Mr. N for a solid ten minutes and that we got along so well. That's just how she is- she's one of those girls that's so fun and sweet and pretty that you kind of want to punch her in the face, but you don't because she's such a great friend, which makes you angry at yourself for contemplating violence in the first place. I love you, N! You're awesome.

Anyway.

So in the midst of my hanging out with all these cool-ass people last night, some douche came over and interrupted the conversation I was having with one of my friends. He was really weird-looking- he kind of resembled a giant prehistoric cicada.

I politely brushed him off, even when he creepily stared at me for the rest of the night. N tried to come to my rescue and kind of pretended to make out with me, but it was a wasted effort since I don't think he saw it. It was still hilarious, though.

No more than twenty minutes after I dodged that speeding bullet, another little troll came over to where I was unsuspectedly sitting on the couch with the rest of my group. He shook my friend W's hand and actually used this as his opener:

"Now that I know your name I feel more comfortable making eye contact rather than staring at your chest."

To W's credit, she looked like she wanted to stab him in the eye. Then he proceeded to inform her that he would "guess her ethnicity" and ran down every possible Asian culture he could think of. I have a ton of Asian girlfriends and they ALL hate this. I resisted the urge to laugh out loud because I just had to see how this would play out. The kicker- this tool was also Asian. Also, I was infuriated by the fact that he was wearing his tie inside out. I didn't know if that was a look he was going for, or what, but I was really biting my tongue.

At this point, W had politely excused herself, which left an empty spot next to me on the armchair. Everyone with me was excited by this because they knew I was going to be a total bitch. While this clown had been busy bombing out with W, N and the rest the group had been pleading with me to say something to this asshole about his stupid tie. I had to- my public demanded it.

Ass-Backwards shimmied over to a spot on the chair where our legs were touching and threw his arm over the back like we were dating or something. Excuse me, NO. "Do you know your tie is on inside out?" I asked him. He told me he did it on purpose, and that it was "a look." "Do you like it?" He asked. "Not really," I replied. "You should probably have put it on right. It's a nice tie, though." I couldn't be too nasty right away. N called out to me to blog the encounter right in front of him as he continued to make an ass of himself. Then he touched my leg. FUCK, NO. I moved over to the other side of the couch. "You look really pissed off. It's bringing me down."

"I'm about to bring something else down on your crotch. It's called my knee." Ass-Backwards still didn't vacate, so N called me over to her couch (YES! PLEASE!) and he moved on to his next victim in our circle. All of us watched in part horror, part awe, part hysterics as he moved on from one girl to the next. Finally, he left- maybe he got the hint; maybe his drink wore off. I don't know. What I do know is that I polled my girlfriends and we're all going to wear inside-out ties for Halloween.

In concurrence with this being too good a writing opportunity to pass up, I was actually requested to do a post about this idiot. This one is for you, N.