Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Fucking Paint.

Fucking painting. Fucking brushes. Fucking dropcloths. Fucking "painting clothes." Fucking rollers. Fucking roller extensions. Fucking tape. Fucking spackle. Fucking sanding. Fucking spackle dust. Fucking tack cloth. Fucking semi-gloss. Fucking flat. Fucking eggshell. Fucking paint cans. Fucking drips. Fucking molding. Fucking color choice. Fucking step ladder. Fucking ceiling. Fucking paint splatters. Fucking 2nd coat. Fucking 3rd coat. Fucking clean up. Fucking paint in my hair. Fucking cleaning brushes. Fucking missed spots.

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

True Story.

This guy, we'll call him Roger, lives in a small nautical town on the East Coast. Roger has a standard issue sales job, complete with lots of pressure from middle management, so he goes to a bar in that sleepy town for happy hour. Roger pours vodka tonics all over that growing ulcer and in the meantime starts up a conversation with a seasoned barfly; we'll call her Mindy.

Roger and Mindy hit it off so very well that they adjourn to his company issued late model Ford Taurus for a bit of a roll-around. Seems Mindy is equal parts eager and easy. And Roger's a guy. We can all do that quick math and know where this leads. Problem is, Roger's got himself a wife and 2.3 children at home.

That weekend, Roger & Wifey have to trudge off to a wedding of a relative or friend or what have you. As they are northbound on the Interstate, Roger catches a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of a random shoe on the floor in the back seat. "Oh dear," thinks Roger, "that's a problem." So being one who thinks on his toes, he pulls over saying to Wifey, "Er, uh, that tire sounds weird."

So they pull over on the shoulder to the right and Roger askes Wifey, "Can you hop out and see of anything is wrong with the back tire on your side?" Being a good wife who supports her man she obliges. As she exits the car, Roger grabs the ill-placed shoe and holds it outside the drivers side window, all casual-like.

She gets back in the car, reports that the tire appears to be fine; meanwhile he drops the shoe from his hand onto the side of the road, shrugs, and they proceed to get back on their way to their afternoon appointment.

Crisis averted. They pull up to the church and as they are getting out of the car Wifey asks, "have you seen my other shoe?"

Oh snap!

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Raiders of the Temple of Doom Crusade

Amid all the hype of the new Indiana Jones movie, it gave me reason to go back and (try) to watch the trilogy again. I say "try" because I could only make it through Raiders and Temple of Doom. Raiders was enjoyable, if not alarming as I remembered it so well, and saw on the dvd case that it came out in 1981 (Reagan's first term. Suck on that for a second). Adjusting for what we now consider to be suitable and realistic special effects, Raiders still holds up pretty well. Sure the face melting at the end is dated, but it was pretty questionable even then, and I was nine.

Temple of Doom, however, was tough to get through. I'll suspend disbelief for a movie, especially one so fondly remembered, but gooood gracious they took some liberties. The inflatable raft down the mountainside, the strange reappearance of the trademark Fedora after they have been through something that clearly would preclude Indy from having his gear...I could go on. And I will: the scene in the cart in the tunnel was a little much. Could have saved 5 minutes and lost nothing, and if you look closeley there is some serious claymation there. I think I even saw Yukon Cornelius.

After mounting frustration with Temple, I couldn't pull the trigger on Last Crusade. Especially since it would have ended with my poor Connery impression - and plenty of it, people.

At the end of the day, I was left with a few impressions:
1. Harrison Ford has very long arms.
2. In some scenes his run is funnier than that of Steven Seagal.
3. Speilberg directed Temple, which is where (I think) he first hooked up with Kate Capshaw; this is worth noting because all she does is scream in that movie. That evidently worked for him. Interesting.
4. Does Speilberg owe Lucas more than Lucas owes Speilberg? If my memory serves, and I have done no research to this effect, I think they wrote and/or directed every movie from 1977-1987. Nice run.

All this comes with a large grain of salt, because you should also know that I left the theatre after Rocky V thinking I just saw a great movie. So there's that.

Saturday, May 10, 2008

Road Warrior

Here, our contributing editor will provide the occasional story of honing his stand-up on the road and all the glamour that accompanies. Stories like, getting harassed at a bar in Allentown, Pa...or getting big-timed by mediocre comics. Humbling crap like that. Feel free to share your own. Misery loves company.

He was funny. Who was that?

There are tons out there that are on the rise. G'head. Name 'em.

Welcome

So we're late to the blogging game. So what. This blog is here as a resource, a sounding board, a town hall of sorts, to discuss all things comedy. Much like the phrase "no holds barred" we will be barring any and all holds from this outlet.

Who is funny? Who is overrated? Who is underrated? Who are you ashamed to admit you actually enjoy? Who are the up and comers? We're not here just to spark debate, we're also here to provide information on who's playing where & when.

This is a playground for the funnybone, and we'll do our best to keep it lively and not corny. This content, in general, will not be suitable for children.