(A Random Post)

A Girl Of My Own

Modern Romance – Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Angel and I went to go see Doomsday on Friday. It fit our “only watch bad movies” policy in that it was absolutely devoid of any art or intelligence but was undoubtedly entertaining. That might sound like a simple thing to some, but occasionally you go to a movie hoping for some dumb fun and you end up trying not to fall asleep. That’s what happened when we saw Stealth. Ugh. Doomsday on the other had features a capable and comely lead actress in Rhona Mitra, a former Lara Croft model and television lawyer (The Practice, Boston Legal). With that kind of versatility, she was clearly perfect for the role of “Eden Sinclair” (Ugh), a no-nonsense government agent with a troubled past and a chip on her shoulder. Oooooh…

The movie itself is super violent and directed with the tact of a young James Cameron…that is if James Cameron smoked crack and had an attention span of less than 0.3 seconds. There is one fight scene in a cramped hallway that literally, LITERALLY has a cut every half second. We’re talking about a basic sword fight between two characters and the camera switches between shot and reverse shot so many times that the figures may as well be fighting on the surface of the Death Star because there is no respect for spatial logic whatsoever. The tone of the movie is all over the place too. The movie starts off as horror, then becomes a decent rip-off of Aliens (harder to do than it sounds), then becomes the least inspired post-apocalyptic landscape you’ve ever seen, then becomes a medieval/gladiator flick (just watch it) and then it turns into a chase flick. I’m certain I’m missing some things here.

The movie is a lot of fun though. The characters are all one-dimensional, the blood and guts are extremely satisfying and the dialogue is so rote that the characters may as well be speaking in a series of clicks and grunts. I give it the slightest recommendation.

We also went CD shopping that day and Angel bought me a couple of discs (a sly way of circumventing my “no new CDs until I get a job” rule, I know). She knows I’m on a quest to use my hastily purchased Metropass as much as possible this month so she suggested that we wander the city for a while. I don’t think we went anywhere too out of the way, but almost every place is new to me and I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have accompany on one of these aimless jaunts.


Natasha is starting a new life as a stewardess. That’s right, the next time you fly Air Canada, she might be the one asking you if you ordered the meat or vegetarian. I’m happy for her. She’s stressed out because the training is so rigorous and it’s potentially pays less than her current job, but she knows that it will be worth it for the experience. Who knows where it will take her? It will probably be a while before I get a chance to hang out with her comfortably again, but I’m excited for her regardless.


Annia has been nice enough to see me for lunch at least once a week for the last couple of weeks or so. I need a reason to get out of the house and even though we only get to sit and talk for about an hour, I’m left satisfied and mostly amused. This is working for me right now.


Jen Benton, the bassist of The Cliks, looked right at me and smiled last week when we were at The Indies, I swear! She looked right at me. It would have been a classic concert moment for me and great for my self-esteem if it weren’t for the fact that she’s a card-carrying lesbian. She looked right at me!


Melida remains beyond my grasp. I actually…God, I actually went to where she worked today. I had my story all set up too. I was going to say that I had a job interview around there that day and that I didn’t get it so I decided to stop and get some coffee and relax and “Wow, fancy meeting you here! Small world.” That’s what was going to happen. Thankfully, she wasn’t there. I felt sick waiting outside of the Second Cup mustering up the courage to go in. I kept telling myself that if this was a movie in the 1950s, this would be considered romantic. This isn’t the 1950s and I’m not Humphrey Bogart and I’m never, ever going to do anything like that again.


Metropass count: 22


I miss Bob Barker. So, to happier times:

Adam Sandler’s Ode To Bob Barker

I always thought that the screening process for the show was more discerning than this, but here’s a contestant who bids the same particular number over and over again. I hate white people and I especially hate white stoners, so you’ll be happy to know that this clip has a happy ending.

A contestant cheats and gets the prize anyway. Watch Bob here: First, his reaction is priceless (as always). He makes a split second decision to walk away rather than rip this cockknob’s throat out. Second, he deals with the problem quickly, if somewhat irresponsibly, and gives that little bitch a “get the fuck off my stage” shove.

And just for the heck of it, even though I know this is a re-post, the classic “Worst Price Is Right Player Ever” clip. I actually saw this episode live and I’ll never, ever forget it. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe that just happened. I can’t believe it… Bob is the best.

A girl of my own? I describe a cerise cometary through Bug Street, the Daemonite ghetto, in search of her heartbeat, her perfume, a match for my stored images of her cheekbones…a girl of my own? Some would think it unlikely; would say I’d been programmed to think, not to love, and that may well be so…but I can still think that I love. In all honesty, can they claim anything more than this? Three blocks ahead, the faint scent of a woman whose skin has an aftertaste not quite like coffee nor yet quite like an apricot. It’s her.



Destined to fight the world's evil, The WAMBAG endures massive battles involving impossible stunts, races on horse-pulled carriages, and the desecration of enchanting medieval castles (all done with dizzying computer graphics). Not only does the eye candy keep on coming, the tongue-in-cheek writing and deep Transylvanian accents perfect the film with a dose of dark humor.



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