COBRA. CONTINUED.

[This is what happens when I attempted to watch the USC/ND football game - despite knowing *nothing about football* while channel-flipping to a crappy movie called King Cobra, while drinking and IMing H----- while semi live-blogging my thoughts. Be afraid, be very afraid.]

Southwest ad. Lavender explodes. Hell no.

Oh, Bonaventure Hotel! SHOUTOUT!

does queen latifah get a houseboat everytime a pizza hut ad airs?

David Landry would be cute if he shaved.

Our Song Girls and Cheer Guys (they have a specific name) could kick ND’s lame cheer asses. And then have cheer sex with the enemy.

Wow.

THEY JUST RAN A NAVIGATIONAL SYSTEM LAST AD BREAK!

I hate that. Seriously. Only one ad per company every few hours. Or else you should get fined as much as CBS did for Nipplegate. If it’s different versions of the same ad or there is a narrative continuing, then it’s okay. But otherwise, stop running the same ads NONSTOP. This is why I don’t watch anything “live” anymore.

I want a Blackjack though I think it may be a Cylon Device. Nothing that fancy and lust-worthy, tech wise, is possible without the potential of it becoming a killer robot.

But they may be a risk I’m willing to take. If only it came in a Number Six model.

Why is everything breaking? How is showing a car breaking a good car ad? Because the other cars are unbreakable, I guess. Or something.

Dudes. I love this ad with the jockstrap and the phone and the killer huge lockerroom dude. Man is built! And I even love pudgy pale average guy. I hate John Madden. HATE. But that’s what having an ex who would rather play Madden 04 on PS2 than get a mind-numbing blowjob will do to you.

Plus, I think he may be evil. And he collapsed into self-parody many years ago. Just like Jack Nicholson. There is no John Madden or Nicholson. But only “Madden” and “Nicholson.”

Pete Carroll has kind eyes.

EWW. ND Touchdown. HELLS TO THE NO!

Sophie's Motherfracking Choice:

5 PM on SciFi: King Cobra. With Pat Morita and a cast of thousands. Dozens. Whatever.

Same time, different bat channel: USC versus Notre Dame.

Now, you know I don't know nothing about football. But. Still.

I wanna watch the game to see K's cousins weep. (True story: they flew into LA to watch the game. And didn't buy her a ticket! And K went to SC and they're ND alums. It's both schools! On her turf! Rudeness, much.)

Plus, Masa + beer and/or scotch, plus flipping back and forth to Cobra? Potential best day ever. The game can be no more confusing/exciting than King Cobra. Perhaps I will finally understand football.

I wish I had a fancy TV that could do picture-in-picture, but I don't. It's too bad my parents don't love me enough to get an HDTV. Hint hint winkwink nudge nudge.

it's okay....

We have all the time in the world.

Unfortunately, no we don't.

R.I.P to Sven Nykist as well. He had one of the best eyes and best careers in the business. Plus he got to shoot the gorgeous Miss Lena Olin twice, so not a bad life, eh? Which brings me to -

sidenote: despite my paper arguing that Alias is/was the successor to Bond, it's taken me until now to realize that title of the last episode equals the last line of OHMSS.

sidenote to the sidenote: As pissed as I am about MGM screwing up the DVD release AGAIN, it seems like the Bond DVD Set 3 will be worth it since there are at least two other good films in it. It seems like the best combination would sets 2, 3 and 4 (since it has Dr. No, among others) and get Goldfinger as a standalone DVD when it is rereleased. Since I hear the transfer is absolutely killer. Unfortunately, I'm still unable to buy an HDTV yet but who cares until the whole BluRay/HD-DVD fiasco is settled anyways. And yes, despite or perhaps because of the Madonna cameo and invisible car, I do think Die Another Day is a okay movie.

vignettes are the new black....

disclaimer: this post was written under the influence of several whiskey sours. keep that in mind:

The scene: The day before my final(s) frantically typing a late paper, outside Leavey Library.

So there I am, by the gorgeous reflecting pool, chugging Rock Star (oh, 'SC, remember RedBull? I do. And fondly. Wha happened?) and pounding away on my laptop like Colin Farrell with a sorority girl. A blandly beautiful, vaguely familiar looking girl passes and waves to me.

So I look up and kinda, sorta acknowledge her prescence - because I have taken a leave of abscence (or two) in my time and could have easily blanked on recognizing a former classmate/acquaintance/whatever.

Unfortunately, my semi-acknowledgment of her existence leads to this: A too-sweet like saccharine smile and "Just remember, Jesus loves you."

A beat. No real response on my end. I half-glance at my laptop again and dread the work I have to do.

"Well, I'm praying for you!"

Again, a beat, no movement on my part. I have basically 20ish pages to type in the next 24 hours, so that's where my priorities are. She walks away and delivers the parting shot - "You're a very self-absorbed person, you know that?"

Oh. Dear. Fuck. You. Bitch.

I don't say that of course, just sit sorta stunned and nonplussed. Okay, yes, I am. I never denied that. I know I can be shallow and self-absorbed, but it's a defense mechanism and an ironic choice. And my self-absorption has NOTHING to do with the fact that I won't join your Jesus Brigade considering I am obviously working on something for finals and don't want to be interrupted by people who act like they know me but are just trying to win the Conversion Toaster. Seriously, who does that? Yes, it's a campus. But it is still one in a major city. Learn some boundaries, fool. Or else some crazed homeless person is gonna stab you because you didn't just keep walking and chose to listen to their sob story about the car breaking down and do you have 40 dollars or a cigarette or some crystal meth? No, well, enjoy this knife in your stomach.

SPEAKING OF...

The scene: Post-graduation, mom in town highlights.

Is it (a): Fully stopping, holding up the rest of the group walking in front of her, while she proceeds to listen intensely to said crazed homeless woman's need for a Triple A card due to the car breakage. Mom, if you can't understand what they're saying due to a faulty grasp of English or teh crazy, that doesn't mean you should try to decipher it. My mom isn't good with the accents -- evidenced when she tried to convince us that a waiter's misunderstanding at a fantastically upscale restaurant was due to the fact that they can't speak English as opposed to the gesture being vague.

(b) Being a fucking split Nazi, once again. Granted, it is mother's day brunch, but just ORDER YOUR OWN DAMN FOOD! She does this at every meal. Rather than order what she wants and live with the consequences, she FORCES us to split things with her so that she won't deal with the failure/responsibility if she doesn't like it. I chose Hungry Cat specifically because I wanted the burger, with blue cheese. Mom. doesn't. like. blue. cheese.

At first, she opts for the "oh, i'll just scrape it off option." Then it becomes blue cheese on the side. Even though the melty goodness is the whole point. I don't get it. Order your own. That way, you can control your order like the insane control freak that you are rather than having everyone else compromise to please you. I think my favorite was when she said that we shouldn't order the shrimp (though I was asking Krystal if she wanted some shrimp) because her stomach was upset and she's trying to save money. Okay, well, I don't understand why the rest of the table can't have shrimp because your stomach's off. (Which it is apparently ALL THE DAMN TIME). Don't talk to me about money when you spent the entire two days before my graduation buying expensive things at Nordstrom's, Fred Segal and god knows where else rather than asking what I - the graduate, remember? the reason you came to LA? -- wanted to do while my family was here. (Hint: not watch you and Mollie shop for 6 days straight).

Needless to say, she ate the shrimp and proclaimed it a good choice.

(c) The reason for all this anger? Hmm, while at her friends in Sherman Oaks, she debates whether their mutual friend loves her daughter or son more. Mom says that the son is going through a tough time or something so it's "easier to love" the daughter. I make some comment, not too snarky. Without prompting, this causes the conversation to turn to me - namely, mom telling me to my face that "Mollie (my sister) is easy to love. You're not easy to love." And somehow, when I get pissed off and sulky at this, she has the audacity to act as though she did nothing wrong and I'm crazy to be offended all how dare you! not take this insult with a smile.

No, Mom, it's great. That's just the perfect thing to say to someone who believes that they don't deserve love, will never find love and are going to die alone. Thanks a lot, love you too.

does UPN even *have* a standards & practices dept?

Cases in point, both from Veronica Mars:

Last week's episode, Plan B. (roughly)

Veronica to Weevil: "It's not time for Plan B just yet, Dirty Harry."

Weevil: "In case you haven't noticed, I ain't no mick cop."

Veronica: "Dirty Sanchez?"

OH. DEAR. LORD. What the hell, is this HBO?

From this week's, I Am God.

Dick Casablancas: "Sometimes you don't need the prettiest horse, just one that will let you ride bareback."

And no, I'm not linking because you can find gay porn on your own time. Tune in now, y'all, before the CW move renders this show much more sanitized in the post-Gilmore slot.

On the subject of shows to watch, AMC/BBC's HU$TLE is awesome and a sheer delight. It's pure entertainment, funny, extremely cinematic and stars the most gorgeous, charming black man this side of Taye Diggs. It's like Ocean's 11 on a weekly basis and *now* networks are bringing out Heist and whatnot. Seriously, tune in -- it's as effortless and enjoyable as a glass of champagne, minus the hangover.

the thing about rejection is...

You feel like a fucking reject afterwards.

Sigh. Look, I know that certain situations aren't ideal and I shouldn't take it personally. But god/Xenu help me, I do. Completely hypothetically, one of this situations would be, say, posting a Craigslist ad, getting a response and having a guy come over (after a good deal of back and forth-ing via email).

30 minutes later, guy arrives, guy calls, guy is downstairs.

I go downstairs, open the door, the guy says "it's okay' and just fucking walks away.

No explanation, no apology, nothing Not one goddamn thing.

What the hell, dude?

Seriously, I sent a picture, you made the drive -- what did you fucking expect?

Should I not have been wearing sweats? Should my hair be shorter? Should I have come down holding a football and a fucking Maxim to butch it up for you?

Honestly, I don't think beggars can be choosers at 4 in the morning.

And yet, I take it personally. Which says more about my state of mind than anything else. Because god forbid it should be his problem because he's probably a fucking weirdo cokehead or something. Nope, it's *my* fault. If there were a crime scene and I was standing next to the person holding a bloody knife, I'd probably find a way to blame myself for being a bad influence and not preventing the murder.

Any wonder why I want plastic surgery at 25? If it's good enough for Jessica Simpson...

And yes, I may have been told I had "movie star looks" a mere 48 hours earlier. But I didn't believe them -- the rejection, the outright snubbing? That I believe in.

Because the thing is, I never had to rely on my looks growing up. So I don't have the practice for it. Don't have that confidence in my skin. But now? I want to rely on those looks. I'm tired of being funny, being smart, being charming. Being one of the few guys in the bar who could manage a decent conversation, who could banter with the best of them.

Yep, six years in LA and I'm broken & bruised enough to give up and join the beautiful people.

Fuck da children...

No, seriously, fuck the children.

Okay, not really and not in a Michael Jackson (a.k.a "FUBAR") way, but kinda...

But I'm more than a little pissed off by Toyota's decision to pull ads from 'Nip/Tuck' (the greatest show evah! or on now) thanks to the efforts of the retarded PTC, who seem to have nothing better to do with their time than drum up protests from their devotees and trick networks and advertisers into thinking that hundreds of people are outraged at the filth pouring forth from their screen...

When in reality, it's like a half-dozen people sitting around, tracking violence and language and sex on television all day with the kind of obsessive single mindedness of the perverts they decry. No, seriously, there was some case, which I can't remember specifically at the moment, where the network discovered that a hundred 'complaints' they received actually only came from 3 people, writing over and over again.

Okay, it was Fox's crap reality show 'Married by America' - this excellent article points out that Fox got a 1.2 million dollar fine based on 90 complaints. But all but three of those were generated using the exact same form letters from the PTC -- which they put on their website and encourage people to send out, expressing dismay at show's content they may (and likely) have never even seen.

The article mentions the whole Towelgate fiasco -- in our TV class, Marc Cherry basically said it was a similiar situation -- it was days before someone complained, a small minority raised a lot of fuss and made it seem like it was a bigger deal than it was.

Back to 'Nip/Tuck', there are so many reasons why the PTC can go fuck itself and da children:

1)It's on a 10 p.m. at night, on a Tuesday. If your young, impressionable children (as opposed to teens, who the show would be appropriate for if they watched with parents) are up that late on a schoolnight, watching filthy TV behind your back...well, you got bigger fish to fry than trying to shield them from Julian McMahon's ass.

2) It's rated TV-MA. There are content advisory warnings. I know this because F/X airs them approximately every five minutes like a nagging mother -- 'hey, are you sure you wanted to be watching this? Are you sure? Well, it's dirty and potentially offensive and if you're offended. Don't come crying to me because I told you so...' Hey, PTC, if the network tells you point-blank that something may be offensive, what kind of gall does it take to act affronted and shocked when you are offended.

3)It's a dark show intended for adults but has never represented itself as anything else. A cursory glance at any review or interview or article will mention the show's graphic content and dark, satirical tone or describe it as "cutting-edge" or mention the controversy.

4)Millions of taxpayers' time and money were spent installing V-Chips on all our TVs. The show also airs on cable and the majority of boxes have parental lock codes as well. Groups like the PTC demanded these restrictions to protect the children without compromising a network's ability to air whatever content it pleases but have now decided to just try to restrict content since parents are too lazy or stupid to figure out how to work that technology.

Maybe it's the censorship class that I'm in raising all this anger, but I am so fucking tired of everything in our society having to be neuteured based on this stupid myth that children are all goodness and light and they must be protected at all costs (even if that interferes with the rights of society's non-children havers), lest they see a split-second of Kimber's breast and in that moment, instantly lose their innocence.

I must give props to Charles Taylor, writer extraordinaire and husband to my favorite critic, since he says a lot of this better than I could in his article 'The Morality Police'.

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In non-angry rant news, I was dubbed 'socially awkward' last night with the further explanation that 'I talk so much and about myself and never let anyone else talk and no one cares about such & such,' etc, etc. And I thought it hurt hearing that from Adam, but from my best friend? Damn. In my defense, though, it was a very socially awkward situation...which will all be explained later or not, depending on how things turn out with the person (besides me) who made it awkward and confusing.

And look, I know I'm no good at these things. I feel so out-of=place, sometimes. I know I'll never have that easy-breezy-beautiful frat boy confidence that I see on campus. But my brief stint in popularity around freshman/sophomore year couldn't have just been a weird fluke, could it? Okay, yes, because everyone is popular freshman year, but I'm saying I knew how to play the game then or was better at it or something. And maybe dropping of the face of the planet, having a brush with near-madness and living in isolation for a year or two aren't the best things for one's social skills...

It's my sister's birthday and I'll always envy her that she is much better at socializing than I.

Question? What does it mean when you invite a boy up and then he says he doesn't want to kiss you because he thinks he is getting a cold? Oh, we do anyway and it's really nice, and if he actually calls (I know, right?), it just may be worth it. I don't know if I want a relationship or anything, but he seemed like a cool/nice guy -- I mean, we actually managed to have an intelligent conversation. In Akbar, of all places.

Plus, at least I know he's gay unlike awkward-making people. *sigh*