Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
I recently wrote a blog entry about how I can find anything. I have now failed to live up to my own hype for almost a week. I came home Saturday afternoon to find that Sven had lost the remote control to the downstairs TV. (Sven claims one of the children took it, which is possible, but if Sven had only taken the common-sense precaution of tying the remote control to his left wrist, none of this would have happened.) I have looked all over the house, but my fabled psychic find-all is broken. I think the problem is that I wasn't there when it was lost, hence I cannot be there when it is found. It is but the way of the world. I have now taken the step that will guarantee that the remote will be found: I have ordered a replacement, which means that ten minutes after we open the replacement, the new one will emerge, chuckling heartily, from its hiding place.
Another lackluster hype-fest was last night's finale of Top Chef. I don't watch a lot of reality TV, understand; I fully recognize that reality TV is the total downfall of our civilization, so I only watch the really socially redeeming ones, like:
- Top Chef
- Project Runway
- America's Next Top Model
- Hell's Kitchen
- Flavor of Love
- Keeping Up With The Kardashians (which I watch ironically)
- The Girls Next Door (which I only watch so I can pass righteous judgment)
- The Real Housewives of Atlanta (which I view as straight comedy)
So, I have come to expect a certain level of professionalism and quality from the reality shows I watch so selectively. This season of Top Chef disappointed me on many levels by stooping to the "romance among contestants" ploy so often employed by less me-worthy shows, thus keeping two lackluster contestants around longer than they deserved so the romance angle could be played up. And, worst of all (spoiler, so highlight to see): one of them won.
Fortunately, some things do live up to the hype. Lost is having a great fifth season. I enjoyed all of the Twilight books. My stuffed Evil Monkey came yesterday, and it looks almost exactly like the one on Family Guy.
I'm on the lookout, though, for things that aren't pre-hyped for my entertainment pleasure; things I can discover on my own and nurture until they become so popular that I give them up in disgust for selling out to all of those fans who only liked them after they became "popular."
As it is supposed to be.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
- Justin is upset that he doesn't get as much screen time as the "actors"
- Zac is upset that he isn't the lead
- Senor Sparklepuss is just trying to get the movie made and is sick of the drama
Yay, Sparklepuss. I have to say, though, seeing these three onscreen would be pretty cool, kind of like Clooney, Pitt, and Damon in "Ocean's 11" but for HOBs. However, I would caution all three about the whole "promising young actor" bit with two words:
Hayden Christensen. That is all.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I hadn't realized how dependent I am on late-night cable. When we were out of town, our hotel room didn't have the following channels:
- Comedy Central
Honestly! How do they expect me to sleep? Fortunately, HBO-14623512 was running Star Trek II: The Man Boobs of Khan, one of my favorite childhood movies. Unfortunately, it began at 1:00 a.m., meaning I was up until 3:00 watching it. Fortunately, no one else was awake, so I could heckle all I wanted. Unfortunately, my moist snorts of laughter awoke Sven and Sven Jr., so Spock's death scene and funeral were heckled only in my mind. I did get to heckle Checkov's earwig, though ("Sorry, Admeeral, I haven't been myself, this blood-soaked worm has been eating my brain...") as well as Kirstie Alley's unforgettable portrayal of Rebecca, the Vulcan bar owner who comes on board to get the Enterprise to turn a profit.
After Kahn had spat his dying declaration ("From hell's heart-ah, I stab-ah ah-thee!" Die........ and die) and Spock had been shot into oblivion, I found an old episode of Law and Order, which, though it predated talking pictures, was still compelling enough to keep me up for another hour. Ah, what I wouldn't have given for Lady Gaga right then, to soothe me to sleep with her music that I'm secretly convinced is a joke...
I love insomnia...