Sunday, December 13, 2009

#8: Golden Girls- Twas the Nightmare Before Christmas

Don't let the name of this Christmas special fool you- this is NOT about Dorothy, Sophia and the other two stumbling on Halloween town and doing their own take on Nightmare Before Christmas, with Blanche screwing Jack and Sophia beating Oogie at a game of dice. I apologise now for your disappointment- don't worry, I felt the same way. In fact, if ever there was a fan-fiction begging to be written, it's that one. (And if I see it hit the web at any point in the next few days, I'm going to sue)

In actuality, this episode is, as far as I can tell, the first Christmas for the Golden Girls (not ever, of course. The whole PREMISE of the show is that they have a combined age of about four thousand, so I'm guess they've celebrated Chrsitmas once or twice before this), and they're all planning to go home to their seperate families for the holidays. Now, this story had so much crammed in to a twenty miniute episode, I'm suprised they didn't just call it "Tardis", but what we have is: Blanche fucks a Santa, Sophia maxes our Dorothys credit cards buying gifts, Rose still believes in Santa, some guy dressed as St Nick pulls a gun on the ladies demanding they hang with him at Christmas, all the planes are grounded, they get dinner at a diner and also, let some guy go home so he can spend the night with his family, instead of waiting on them all night at this stupid cheesy restaurant.

The lesson here? Don't attempt the holidays unmedicated, I think. After this much excitement, anyone would have been driven to drink! Also, should that guy have just left four old ladies in charge of his business? Am I the only one that thinks that was slightly irresponsible? I mean, he doesn't know them from Adam, and here they are, just up and offering to run the joint. And he accepts! If he's an employee, I hope he gets his ass fired. Enjoy spending ALL your time with your family now, bitch! And if he's the owner, it was even stupider. The women had already proved they couldn't handle a hostage situation, so if the place got held up, good luck keeping anything, douchebag. What a load of bollocks.

Oh well, I suppose my first mistake was expecting realism from the Golden Girls. The highlight of the episode was from Dorothy, when faced with one of Blanches usual whorebag stories, shouting "Blanche! I could get HERPES listening to this story!!" I think that may make it into MY repertoire. Merry Christmas!

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

#7: Frasier- Miracle on Third or Fourth Street

Back to episodic adventures tonight, with the first ever Frasier Christmas Special, "Miracle on Third or Fourth Street". Yes, even the show that was so pretentious it gave pretentiousness a bad name managed to have a few Christmas miracles, and of all the specials, this one was definitely the first,

Plotwise, it had Marty being, you know, normal, and Frasier being a prick about it, and them having a fight. So pretty much EVERY episode of Frasier, except this time, it was at Christmas, and it was over some Christmas lights, which DESPITE Frasiers protestations, I thought were tacky as all fuck. Chilli shaped lights for the tree? Nope. Not buying it. That shit's ugly. And not even in a "so tacky it's awesome" kind of way. Just the regular tacky. So, to be spiteful, and because he's not going to see his son for the holiday (they explain why, but I was making popcorn at the time. It had something to do with the Sound of Music, so I'm guessing there was a touching coming-out story in there as well) Frasier decides to take the Xmas shift at the radio station, and spends his entire day being miserable, listening to even MORE miserable people whine about their problems. Just an aside for a second: You're a fucking radio psychiatrist, Dr Crane- HARDEN THE FUCK UP! Listening to sad losers is your damn job! You don't get to act pissy about it, just because you're in a bad mood! It would be like me cracking the shits because people kept buying books off me! Fool. Anyway, on the way home, Frasier decides to chill with a bunch of homeless guys, and have dinner, because, to his surprise, all the good restaurants are closed on Christmas. So far, Frasier hasn't done much to convince me he's as smart as he keeps saying he is, to be honest. It's Christmas, Einstein. What did you THINK was going to be open. Isn't it still kind of a big deal that some McDonalds will serve you on the 25th??

Long story short, it turns out he's forgotten his wallet, and looks like a bum, so everyone assumes he's dirt poor, and offers to buy his dinner for him, despite the fact they've got less money than Britney Spears singing teacher does, which Frasier, whilst touched, accepts. Now, this is where I tend to get annoyed at sitcoms. Because he acts as though the kindness of strangers is some kind of massive Christmas miracle, but really, if he'd opened his fat mouth and offered a plausible explanation for what was going on, the poor homeless peeps wouldn't have HAD to pay for the rich wankers food at all. But no. He tricks them all into buying him dinner. For shame.

So I think the message here is, despite their good intentions, homeless people are morons, and the holiday season is an excellent time to take advantage of their kindly nature and exploit the holy fuck out of them. It's what Frasier would do, and he's a pretty damn classy guy. Merry Christmas.

Monday, December 7, 2009

#6: T'was the Rant before Christmas...

Because, you know, all this Christmas Positivity is getting me down. So on Sunday, instead of watching somebody ELSE moan about Christmas, I figure I'll do some whining of my own. Because if these things have taught me anything, it's that Christmas is about complaining about things until someone takes pity on you.

And you know what I've realised really, REALLY pisses me off? Goddamn "Australian" Santas. You know the ones I mean. Stupid cartoons of Santa, wearing a singlet and shorts, chilling on the beach. He's not above wearing an akubra. . Occassionally, if he's feeling exceptionally crass, his sleigh will be pulled by kangaroos.

Just look at the smug fucker! Is our national identity SO flimsy that we have to plagerise a beloved cultural icon and bastardise him to within an inch of his life, just so that he can fit within the confines of a tired Australian cliche that's been beaten to death? Why, when we're already taking the leap of logic that says this fat bastard can make it around the entire world in a single night, do we feel the need to start bringing sense into all of it, and raise issues like the heat? Santa is travelling at Warp Seven around the globe, breaking ALL laws of time and space squeezing his fat ass down chimneys that don't exist, and we're meant to believe he can't cope with Australian heat? The sleigh doesn't have air conditioning? Most importantly, we're dealing with FUCKING MAGIC! At what point did someone think "Oh no! Santa's going to get heatstroke!" and bypass the hundreds of other logic leaps we were already accepting at face value?

And don't even get me started on that fruity looking elf. He's going to be devestated when he realises Santa came too early to drop him off at Mardi Gras. And if the ridiculous concept of a Santa dressing for the weather wasn't enough, we feel the need to butcher one of the staples of the whole damn mythology, MUTANT REINDEER, and importing flying kangaroos into the fray! Why? Now, I'll be the first to admit I've never understood where Santa's army of reindeer came from, but I've always kind of accepted they belong. Why then, do some dickheads feel that it's more acceptable to have him being whisked through the night sky by white kangaroos? Fuck you, Rolf Harris. This is all your fault. You and that stupid song. I feel it's a sad state of affairs when a country has such an insecure sense of self that they feel the need to shoehorn existing pop culture icons into an extremely narrow box, and truth be told, it's borderline offensive. Now patriotism is great and all, but is there really a need to be a total wanker about it? Should DC start drawing Superman in thongs when he's staging a rescue down under? Should Mickey Mouse be seen cooking a barbeque and downing a beer? Or can we, as a nation, create our OWN icons, and leave the others the fuck alone?

On a completely hypocritical note though, how fucking awesome is Mexican Santa? Because I think a Santa in a sombrero is something we could ALL get behind.

#5: The Nightmare Before Christmas

Being the weekend, I wanted to do something a little more exciting for this game, and so I decided that on weekends, instead of watching episodic christmas adventures, I'd reward myself with a sugary blast of Hollywood flavoured Christmas Awesome, and start slowly devouring the pile of Holiday Movies that are an annual tradition with me.

And where better to begin than The Nightmare Before Christmas? I'm not going to bother recapping the plot, because in the year 2009, certain things are taken for granted, and one of those is the fact that at some stage in your life, you've watched this gem of a film, about a bunch of weirdos that live in Halloween Town and decide a hostile takeover of Christmas Town is in order. And there's singing. There's not really a great deal to make fun of with this movie- the plot is fairly straightforward, and it manages to do all of it without wasting unnecessary time on trivialities like the meaning of Christmas or goodwill amongst all mankind. Nope- Christmas in this universe is fairly straightforward. It involves Santa making presents and distributing them. Thats all there is to it. Which sounds like a nice, simple concept to me. There's one part where Jack Skellington tries to explain the idea of Christmas to the Halloween monsters, but he seems even more clueless than I am, and you can tell that if he had hair he'd be pulling it out by the end of it, because they all seem pretty fixated on the ideas of mutilated feet and infectious diseases. No one said the people of Halloween Town were thinkers, after all.

Also, the Santa in this version? You can totally tell he kicks all sorts of ass. See the way he brutally murders that bug at the end? Then threatens to kick Jacks ass clear off if he ever fucks with Christmas again? You just know he could have escaped at the beginning, he just wanted to see how badly everyone cocked things up without him. Probably so he'd look even MORE heroic when he fixed everything. Santas a man with a plan. And that plan involves looking suave while saving the day. And teaching scrawny skeleton monsters valuable lessons about staying the fuck on their own turf.

And isn't that what Christmas is ALL about??

Merry Christmas!

Saturday, December 5, 2009

#4: Futurama- "Xmas Story"

Futurama is pretty much my favourite series of all time. So it comes as NO surprise that it's also responsible for pretty much my favourite Christmas episode of all time as well. Two of them, actually, but we'll play the game chronologically and watch only one today- the first one, funnily enough: Xmas Story.

It's Frys first Christmas since coming to the future, and we learn that it's now referred to as Xmas, which will prove convenient whilst typing. Also, Xmas Trees are Palm Trees, instead of Pine, which personally, I think is a huge improvement which could result in me decorating an obscenely flashy palm tree this year in tribute. I'm not sure yet. (On a related note, I really must get around to decorting the house) So anyway, Fry moans about being lonely, and Leela moans more about being even MORE alone (is it my imagination, or do ALL these Christmas specials seem to revolve around people moaning about something? Maybe THATS the true meaning of Christmas?) so Fry decides Leelas moaning trumps HIS moaning, and he should man the hell up and do something about it. Also, Bender seems keen for free alcohol. And looting old ladies. Which we can ALL get behind, regardless of the time of year. Anyhow, Fry buys Leela a parrot (and to anyone watching at home- please never buy me a parrot.) which promptly takes off, leading to Fry endangering his life trying to get the stupid bird back, which means Leela needs to rescue him.

Far from that wrapping everything up nicely, Santa then shows up to kill everyone. Except Dr Zoidberg. But the Planet Express crew manage to fight him off, and the episode ends with everyone feeling pretty good about themselves and Santa vowing to kill them all next year.

So what did we learn? Ummmmm.

500 stink lizards are better than one parrot?

Old ladies are good for mugging?

Santa is planning to stick coal so far up your stocking you'll be coughing up diamonds?

I think the best lesson we could have possibly picked up from this episode of Futurama is if you want people to pay attention to you at Xmas, you just have to make sure you're complaining louder than everyone else. Also, Santa is a bastard, and if you hear "Ho Ho Ho" at any stage, you're pretty much already dead.

Merry Christmas!!!!

Thursday, December 3, 2009

#3: 30 Rock- Ludachristmas

If anyone can reach into my cold, loveless heart and teach me the true meaning of the Christmas Season, it's Liz Leman and the 30 Rock kids, right? Well, this was the reasoning that led me to watch the episode from Season 2- Ludachristmas. So after a little research on Urban Dictionary, I discovered that "Ludachristmas" is a day before christmas where you get crunk and rock out. Bless you, Tina Fey. I knew you wouldn't let me down.

Anyway, this episode is about the TGS team planning what seems to be a fantastic Christmas party, until Kenneth locks them all up, denies them any alcohol, and forces them listen to Rev. Garry bitch about jesus. Or something. And Liz's parents are in town for the holidays, but their story was a little less exciting, so I'll stick to the party vibe. My ears pricked up when Kenneth started harping on about the "true meaning of Christmas"- surely I was about to get some dollop of seasonal goodness that would make things clearer?
Yeah, not so much as you might think. He bitched a little about how no one wanted their shitty corporate gifts when some kids somewhere want wood, then Tracy decides the Christmas Tree is evil. As incomprehensible as that sounds, I did manage to gleam two VERY important Christmas messages from it all, which I think are further clues in the Dan Brown-esque mystery I'm on the verge of solving. (And watch- I promise to be more exciting and less pompous than Robert Langdon, too.)

1: In the words of Frank- Who cares about the true meaning of Christmas? It's about getting crap, and eating too much! It's about getting drunk, and hugging your cousin until your mom says "Frank, enough"!

Now that sounds like a Christmas message I could get behind. You know, without the incest. Also, this episode taught me that christians ruin christmas for EVERYONE. But I think we all already knew that. They get so damn smug about the fact they "own" the damn season. You know what, christians? Santa didn't fight for your freedom so that you could piss and moan about some damn manger.
Merry Christmas!

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

#2: American Dad- The Best Christmas Story Never Told

Todays episode was definitely both infinitely more entertaining AND christmassy than yesterdays episode of Will and Grace. Propably not surprising, considering I still think American Dad is friggin HILARIOUS, and it managed to teach me even more about what it means to celebrate Christmas.

So the episode starts with the towns Christmas Celebrations being cancelled due to them being held on public grounds, so they can't hold a religious ceremony there or something. This pisses off Stan immensely, and he deals with his frustration by smashing presents and destroying the tree. And cancelling christmas. I think. Then Lisa Kudrow shows up as the ex-Tooth Fairy/ current Christmas-Fairy to take Stan back in time and remind him of how much he loved the season as a boy. Which causes him to decide to kill Jane Fonda in the past, because it's all her fault that the Liberal Movement has destroyed everything he loves about America.

Interesting if slightly incomprehensible plot, it did give me a few vauluable lessons:

1: Silent Night, Holy Savings
2: To make someone truly happy at Christmas, you should give them a gun.
3: Maybe you should have just married Chad.

All valuable lessons. So, I guess what American Dad is telling us is, to make the most of things, marry Chad, buy him a pistol, and make sure you get a good price for it. Because THATS what Christmas is all about.

Merry Christmas.

#1: Will & Grace- "Jingle Balls"

Lets kick off our Christmas Adventure with that seasonal staple: Will & Grace. The 11th episode of the Fourth season seems as good a place as any to begin, with an episode called "Jingle Balls". You see what they did there? They used a popular christmas carol, "Jingle BELLS" and changed one letter, so that it says "BALLS". As in testicles. Oh, the hilarity. What WILL they think of next?

This one didn't really have much of a Christmas feel to it- Will was ashamed of his dancer boyfriend or some rubbish, which could have happened at any time of the year beyond a quick "Nutcracker" reference, but the Holiday portion of the episode came when Jack cockblocked Graces attempt to dersign the Barneys Christmas Window. Because he's a dick like that.

Anyway, after nominating himself, and casting Karen as a naughty, leather-clad Mrs Claus in some nightmarish dominatrix creation, thouroughly pissing off Parker Posey, causing her to threaten to fire him, Jack prays to Santa to fix the entire clusterfuck up, which goes about as well as you'd expect it to. It's not until Karen bribes Grace that she decides to bail him out, and does ALL the work herself, and allows Jack not only the credit, but to go on believing that Santa Claus designed the window display. The stupidity on offer in this episode makes my brain hurt, but Karen Walker, in her usual fabulous fashion, tries to explain the meaning of Christmas to Grace thusly:

"It's Christmas, for goodness sake! Think about the baby Jesus... up in that tower, letting his hair down... so that the Three Wise Men can climb up and spin the dreidel and see if there's six more weeks of winter."

To be honest, the only Christmas message I gained from this episode was that, in life, there are NO consequences for severely fucking your friends over, so long as there's a rich alcoholic to pay them to forget it and do your work for you!!!

So I consider this adventure a success so far! Merry Christmas!

December Dilemma

It has come to my attention, being the Christmas season and all, that the true meaning of Christmas has been lost to us all. And that's depressing. But instead of sitting around, moaning about things like everyone else, whilst overdosing on the rampant consumerism that plagues the holidays most year whilst further sliding ever-downwards on a spiral of anti-christmas depression, I decided to do something constructive. And that is, rediscover EXACTLY what the TRUE meaning of Christmas is, as explained through that age old medium of the CHRISTMAS TELEVISION SPECIAL.

Yes, one for every day between now and Christmas, I intend to watch as many Christmas themed movies and TV episodes that I can find, because surely, if anything can teach me the true meaning of Xmas, Hollywood can. So feel free to sit back and enjoy: consider it my lovingly crafted Christmas Gift to you all. Because we could ALL do with a reminder of what December 25th is about.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Tis the Season. To be drunk.

Not that I normally need an excuse to drink too much, but it is always nice when December roles around and you have a legitimate reason to consume more alcohol than is generally encouraged whilst surrounded by people simultaneously wishing you an awkward Merry Christmas and trying to coax you into surrendering the karaoke microphone. As far as I'm concerned, it's what Christmas is all about. And, in keeping with the precedents set by previous years, I've already attended the Work Christmas Party and managed to make a complete tit of myself (although people assure me I was "entertaining". Sadly, I have to take their words for it. My memories of the evening clearly bear little to no resemblance to the actual events)
If it taught me anything though, it was that I should steer well clear of public speaking. Ever.

But it's always nice to see workmates in a slightly more relaxed environment- especially leading into Christmas, it's good for everyone to kind of unwind before the world goes completely batshit insane. I was talking to someone about it the other day, and mentioned that it feels like we're preparing ourselves for war, and those of us that have been working there for a couple of years are the grizzled, hardened veterans, looking at all the fresh-faced, excited youngsters that are about to have their faith in humanity shattered by a Retail Christmas (something that honestly needs to be experienced to be believed- no amount of me telling you about it will convince you of what it's really like...) as well all prepare to charge the enemy together or something. One thing the general public should be aware of this year though, is the fact that I've been playing kind of a lot of Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 or whatever it's called (you know the one. You've probably just taken a break from playing it yourself) and feel my usual method of "passive resistance" has been replaced by a more effective method of "Shoot first, questions later". I may be the only employee wearing both a Santa Hat AND Guerilla-style camouflage face paint, but I like to feel that duality adds to my charm. The fact that the face paint will most likely be pink is completely irrelevant. It's still threatening.

I think when you equate your place of employment with a demilitarized zone, it's probably time to start looking elsewhere. Lets see if I can be out of there before next christmas...

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Oh look- another Twilight rant!

I know I've ranted about Twilight before on here, and you know what? In all likelihood, I'll probably do it again some time. But lately, I've started noticing a bizarre and confusing trend, so, as per usual, I decided to rant about it. Yes, we all know Twilight fans are painful and annoying. Believe me, working in a bookstore, you tend to see more of this than most people in day to day life. But recently, there has been a major emergence of a group of people more annoying than Team Edward and Team Jacob combined. And that's Team "I hate Twilight so much I want to show everyone how clever and sophisticated I am by telling everyone just HOW much I hate it". And they're everywhere.
It's weird. Several months ago, there was nothing that made me want to stab my own eyes out quite as bad as rabid Twi-Hards, but now, I find them amusingly innocent. Simple, sure. Victims of some sort of intense, vampire-centric, mormon-based brainwashing nonsense? Of course. But harmless, in a way that reminds me of Down Syndrome kids. Sure, they're disabled, but they're happy and they don't hurt anyone, so what's the big deal. But the Anti-Twilight league? Jesus! Those guys are ridiculous. It's like they're gaining some sort of sick pleasure from pissing on everyones parade, with a level of vehemence that makes me think Stephanie Meyer snuck into their house, raped their Grandma, and shot their dog.
Look. I'm sure, as sensible people, we can mostly agree that the Twilight series isn't the most amazing piece of literature ever experienced. And I know we can all pretty much accept that Ms Meyer doesn't have even the most basic understanding of what a vampire is or does. And the Bella/Edward relationship is one of the most unhealthy, abusive pairings in history. And I could rant about these things myself. God knows they piss me off enough. But at the end of the day, what does that negativity achieve? Twilight sucks. Sure. But who cares? There's no need to grab our torches and pitchforks and make even bigger jerks of ourselves than the morons that wear shirts that say "Bite me, Edward".
Because you can't fight fanaticism with fanaticism. Well, you can. You just end up looking like an idiot.

They've still got it!

You know, anyone that questions the Muppets validity in this day and age really needs to watch this clip. I don't know what it's for, I don't know when it's from (recently though, I assume) but in just 4:46, it manages to be one of the most entertaining new Muppet productions I've seen in years. Clearly someone at Disney is paying attention to Muppet fans, cos this hits all the right notes. Literally AND figuratively.

Hopefully this is some sort of viral marketing to build interest in this new film we keep hearing about.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009


It's no secret that you only have to MENTION the name David Tenant to me and I go into all manner of time-travel based, swoon-heavy, Tardis-central fantasies that would put both Rose Tyler AND Martha Jones to shame. I'm happy to admit that. (And also worried to realise that's not my strangest celebrity crush by a long shot. Don't ask) So naturally, I tend to get pretty excited whenever a new Doctor Who special pops us, an event of excruciating scarcity this past year, which is only now rectifying itself. We had The Waters of Mars the other day, which I enjoyed immensely, and we've got two more to look forward to before David Tenant shuffles off and Matt Smith (Also swoon-worthy, I think, but it's still a bit hard to tell, to be honest) steps in to the role. Now, so long as I ignore the fact that I'm going to be left a heartbroken shell of an individual with the inevitably devestating death of the Tenth Doctor, I can still muster a bit of excitement, and this preview clip from the 2009 Children in Need special only helped build that anticipation. Sure, it tells us NOTHING new about The End of Time, but who cares. It's got the Doctor, acting all Tenanty and gorgeous. And honestly, what more can anyone want?

Friday, November 13, 2009

Time Travelers Wife

Ben, Mum and I went and saw the Time Travelers Wife adaptation the other day, which, I have to admit, I was slightly worried about. I mean, it was one of those absolutely perfect novels, and there was every possibility a film version would not only suck, but suck terribly, so I was hesitant, especially when ALL the reviews I saw were unanimously negative. Didn't bode well.

I'm glad to say, I adored the film. Immensely. Naturally, parts were corny, and it missed plot points from the book that I wished it had included, but I've never been one of those people that can't handle adaptations. You KNOW going in stuff is going to be excised, and there's a larger than average chance it wont be as great as the source material. Once you can deal with that minor fact, you're usually ok. Or at least I am. But I'm not going to gush about the whole thing for an entire post- (Movie was great, go see it is all you're getting in way of review really)

What I want to ask is, and this contains MAJOR SPOILERS, but if you're read the book, you already know it and you're safe to read on:::

How the FUCK do they explain Henrys death to the authorities? In the middle of a crowded party, where he's stupidly gathered ALL his friends around him, his body is discovered with a bullet wound. You don't think when they make the 911 call, questions will be asked about, oh, I don't know... WHO FUCKING SHOT HIM?? Surely, if Henry were smart, he would have sent everyone, Claire included, the fuck away, so that none of them could be implicated in his murder? Was this explained in the book? Am I forgetting a perfectly simple explanation that was offered somewhere? It just really shook me out of the story, the fact that in all probability, Claire is going to be subject to a long, invasive criminal investigation into her husbands killing. Which would have made a decidedly different ending to the story, I suppose.

God damn time travel.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Further Halloween awesomeness

You know, if my last rant didn't convince you Halloween was the greatest thing on the history of the planet, this will. Because without Halloween, we'd have never been blessed enough to see this, which is, quite simply, the most perfect piece of live television you will EVER have the joy of seeing. Let me just say this: Drunken, horny, moonwalking ewoks. And television hosts that genuinely have NO IDEA how to deal with it!

Your life will be changed. You'll thank me for it. You'll never see anything this great again. When I grow up, I want to be a drunken midget on the Today Show.

Halloween Success.

After weeks of stressing out, anticipating melodrama, and generally working myself up into a state over it, I can happily say that Halloween passed without too much going wrong at all. In fact, I had a lot of fun (and alcohol). You know, I think Halloween is a greatly under appreciated holiday in this country, mostly because of the stubborn dick heads that like to sit there and moan about the infiltration of American culture into our society, which, frankly, is bullshit.
If you're looking to avoid American Cultural Invasion, I think you maybe missed your chance during, oh, I don't know, the last fifty years when it was actually happening? It's such a ridiculous notion, bitching about a festival because it's big in another country, especially when that country is responsible for ninety percent of the pop culture we enjoy on a daily basis (Also, explain to me how it isn't rascist?). And it's crazy how outrageously defensive some people seem to get about it, as well. Try wishing a stranger "Happy Halloween" and seeing the reaction you get. People tend to look at you like you've just wished them "Happy 'I support pedophilia' Day" (which is nonsense- we all KNOW that's in June!)
The fact of it is, Halloween is a fun holiday. It's just an excuse to drink, party and be stupid. It doesn't have the religious connotations the other holidays tend to carry, so it comes without the toxic guilt we're all forced to deal with by smug christians that feel they get to monopolise Christmas and Easter, and you can dress as ridiculous as you like for one day a year. Honestly, what other day can you get away with wearing the trampiest outfit on the face of the planet, and get applauded for it? This year, I hung out painted green, for blergs sake. Green! It was rad!
Now, I admit, trick or treating still takes some getting used to, but that's only because it's such a foreign concept, having to sling junkfood at the neighbours kids while they're dressed like some sort of creature from hell, but I think we can get used to it. Because yeah. It's awkward at the moment. But they're enjoying themselves. We're enjoying ourselves. Everyones having a blast. I proudly support Halloween. And think that everyone that doesn't is an absolute tool. Seriously, the only reason you should have ANYTHING against Halloween is if you're a member of the Myers family and you've decided to spend the night holidaying in Haddonfield, Illinois. Because then, you're pretty much fucked. Everyone else, chuck on a costume, drink too much, and pass out in a pool of your own candy coloured vomit. Make me proud.
And to show you how awesome Halloween can be, I present to you...

ELPHA-BOY. Yes, that's right. The cleverest pun all Halloween. Also, some random attractive homosexual that ended up smeared with green paint. Halloween is FULL of win! ;-)

Saturday, October 31, 2009

Halloween Party- Let the panicking commence

For some unknown reason, it was decided that we would throw a Halloween Party this year. I'm still not entirely sure why. I hate hosting parties. It's so much effort, and it always involves stress and mayhem, and excessive consumption of alcohol, which leaves me with no memory of the event at all, essentially making all of the previous work redundant. Maybe this time will be different. But probably not. We're preparing the house for it as we speak, and because there are certain values my father managed to instill in me from birth, no task can be tackled until a list is formulated, ensuring the day runs completely smoothly. (It's true. Even to this day, I can't do anything without planning it down to the finest detail. Stupid lists)

So, this is on the agenda for today.

  1. Kitchen
  2. Lounge Room
  3. Dining Room
  4. Bathroom
  5. Outside
  6. Floor
  7. Lunch
  8. Finalise costumes (fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck)
  9. Decorate House
  10. Go shopping for last minute things (possibly more decorations) and pumpkins
  11. Carve Pumpkins x3
  12. Buy fake carved pumpkins
  13. Drink heavily whilst cleaning up stupid pumpkins.
  14. Swear lots.
  15. Start getting ready
  16. Prepare food
  17. Welcome guests
  18. Hide in bathroom and cry at lack of guests
  19. Hope for guests to arrive
  20. No guests. Kill self.
  21. Get stupid green paint off everything (my costume involves painting myself green)
  22. Never throw party again.

Oh dear. Wish me luck. And come to my funeral.

Friday, October 30, 2009

Australian Tragic? Tragic Australian, more like.

You know, as a cool, calm, rational individual, it's not often I find myself flying off into a rant of epic proportions. But occasionally, it DOES happen. Like now. So brace yourself.
We got the above book in at work a few weeks ago. Australian Tragic by Jack Marx. And NEVER. In my ENTIRE LIFE. Have I been so damn enraged by the existence of a book.
I mean honestly, what kind of socially inept monster feels the need to read a book thats sole reason to exist is to capitalise on the grief and misery of others? It's obscene. Basically, it's a book of short stories. Snapshots of otherpeoples misfortune, so that readers can feel smug and good about themselves that it didn't happen to them. It's utterly appalling. And to add to the offensiveness of the whole thing, Jack Marx (douchebag extreme) tries to pass his ghoulish little tales off as literature by spewing out overdramatic literary references for the masses to ooh and aah over, whilst they eat crisps and gawk at misery.
This book is the worst kind of capitalisation. It's someone, completely removed from the horrific events in question, making money from a safe distance by splashing peoples lives across the page so that other freaks, equally removed from said event, can feel good about themselves. I hate it SO MUCH. One chapter is about the woman who lost her children in the fire at Luna Park. Yes, thats right. Her children burnt to death in an amusement park. In what way, shape or form does that need to be written about? Especially by some jerk trying to turn it into a cheap thrill, sensationalised beyond all recognition and plastered about for the world to see. It makes me so angry. Grief is an incredibly personal thing. Especially grief of that magnitude. If it was a book written by the survivors of these tragedies, it would be a completely different matter, because therein lies at least SOME merit. It becomes a tale of human triumph, of success over crippling adversity, but in this context? No. Success isn't the goal. The goal is to repulse, just slightly. It's a regurgitated horror story for people that want to think "Thank god that wasn't me".

And you know what really pisses me off about this? As an author, you have the power to create something. Something powerful, something fanciful, even something that is complete and utter bollocks. Whatever. It's your power. You can use words to do anything. So why waste them on something as hideous and repulsive as this? This isn't creating anything. It's not even reporting on anything. It is the lowest form of writing. And to be making money off it? Jack Marx should be completely, utterly ashamed of himself. And so should everyone that buys this book.

It's repugnant.

*takes a deep breath*

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

MinnelliHunt 09. PART TWO


Despite the fact that we missed out on the oppurtunity to meet Liza on the Friday, which was logically, the most likely chance we had, I refused to be dissuaded from my goal. Especially when, as we were having breakfast delivered (Fuck I love room service. Honestly, I could see myself living in a hotel) we managed to learn a piece of VERY exciting information from the guy delivering it. Liza was staying in the same hotel we were. On the 30th floor. Now, the Intercontinental has 31 floors, but the top level is the function room/ club lounge, so essentially, Liza was staying in the nicest area. In a room that was occupied by George Bush during his last Australian visit, incidentally. Which basically translates to: Fucking hard to get into. I learnt this the hard way, because as soon as I learnt she was up there, I jumped in the lift and went for a ride, only to discover a batallion of burly, armed security guards milling about on her floor. So I sheepishly muttered "wrong floor" and went back down to the 21st floor. Honestly, where do they get off, giving me an obvious "You can't afford to stay on THIS floor!" look? They don't know! (The fact that they were correct is of absolutely NO importance)

So, a new plan was needed. First, we got to cram a day full of fun in Sydney into the agenda, where I got to catch up with Samantha and Dave, see Daniel, go to the comic store, and annoy Benjamin endlessly. (Tell me again why I was single for so long??)
On a whim, as we walked past the theatre, we decided to see if tickets were available for that nights performance of Avenue Q, which they were, so we added that to our itinerary, and headed back to the hotel. A quick sojourn up to the 30th floor again revealed the place was STILL crawling with guards, so dinner with Liza was out of the question, and thus, Ben and I headed to Circular Quay for a wander. By this stage, we'd lost Matthew for the evening, who had gone for a date, and we were about to add Damien and Adam, who had come to Sydney to see Liza's Saturday performance. That's when we had the plan. I figured, despite the previous evenings failure, the stage door was still a fabulous option, and because I wasn't going to the concert, there was nothing stopping me getting their quite early to begin both wheeling AND dealing to secure a coveted spot meeting her.
Of course, the recently purchased Avenue Q tickets through a spanner in those works. We went to see the show (which was AMAZING, by the way- about 89% better than I expected an Australian Cast to be) which ended at 10.15. Which gave us 10 minutes to run from one end of Sydney to the other, in order to get to the Opera House. And it was raining. Heavily. Of course, never underestimate a homo with a mission, and so, I ran the length of Sydney, and managed to arrive JUST as Damien and Adam were leaving the Opera House. I was looking slightly less impressive than the previous night (I believe the term "drowned rat" may have been applicable) only to find myself STILL not allowed backstage. Although, given how I looked, they may have assumed I was a crazy homeless person, in which case I don't blame them.
I DID, however, manage to spark up a CHARMING conversation with Maria Venuti, the Australian television personality with the enormous rack, but I think she may have been slightly annoyed with the fact that I: a) Clearly had no interest in talking with anyone but Liza Minnelli and b) couldn't stop staring at her enormous tits. It was a shame I was so fixated on the goal, because under normal circumstances, she seemed like she would have been quite fun!
Anyway, people came and went through the stage door, and we were starting to thing tonight was going to end in failure as well, when the alarms started, the door raised, and the first car pulled out, in much the same fashion as the night before. Only this time, Liza was in the second vehicle. I know this, because it had clear windows, and I was in the front row, and we looked at each other! I mean ACTUAL Minnelli eye contact! And in that instant, that brief, fleeting moment, we shared something magical. Because not only did we make eye contact, we held it, and she pushed her hand against the car window, REACHING OUT FOR ME! It was a total Star Trek 2 moment, where she was Spock and I was Kirk, only she wasn't dying of radiation poisoning. In that moment though, we knew each other, and it was magical. And we were close, too. Like, a metre and a half. In essence, I came face to face with Liza Minnelli. It's only now that I'm mortified by the fact I looked like absolute shit, but at the time, it was amazing.

Figuring that I had just experience a high of EPIC proportions, the four of us went back to the room to drink and reminisce about that one time were Liza looked at me, and I further cemented the fact that I should not be left alone with alcohol in the same hotel as a celebrity. Because I'm an idiot. And apparantly, at 3 in the morning, her security guards have all gone to bed.

And that's where "Hey, let's go see if we can get near her door NOW!" becomes a good idea.

That little orange light under the door number says "privacy". I think I may be the reason she was...less than great... in Idol that night. But you know what? I'm ok with that. All in all, I'd say MinnelliHunt09 went well. And I'm already planning to head back to Sydney on the 2nd of November to try again at her Entertainment Centre concert. Wish me luck!

Saturday, October 24, 2009

MinnelliHunt 09. PART ONE

MinnelliHunt09 sounds SO much classier than "stalking a poor sixtythree year old lady around Sydney", don't you think? At least this way I'm less likely to end up a convicted felon, which is a plus. So, MinnelliHunt09.


The hunt started last friday, when I headed to Sydney to see her live (Have I mentioned that at all yet? Because I honestly don't know if this blog has quite ENOUGH Liza on it...) Anyway, all signs leading in to this pointed towards Friday being my best chance to meet the great lady, what with me actually going to the Opera House, and having been chatty with Glenn from the Liza Fanclub, who had been communicating with Liza's people about getting fans of importance (read: me) backstage. So, so far so good. Made sure I was dressed up to the nines, because honestly, one doesn't present oneself before Hollywood Royalty without being properly attired. And can I just say, how damn good do I look in this picture? (Also, I MAY have overdosed on gay. You tell me...)

(Totally just a shameless excuse for posting that picture. We all know it)

Once I was glittered up like a good little queen, we headed off to the Opera House. First step was catching up with Glenn. Actually first step was getting photographed in front of the Harbour Bridge with Ben like a couple of queer tourists. Second step was finding Glenn. No, wait. Second step was buying a glass of wine. Third step... well, that was buying (actually, I use the term "buying" loosely, but that really IS a story best left unshared...) my merchandise. But fourth step? That was DEFINITELY meeting up with Glenn and some of his other friends- an eccentric group of Liza fans that were all as excited, if not more so, than I. One particularly memorably awesome character went by the name "Lady Cool" (I swear I'm not making this up! She's on facebook and everything!) She's a cabaret singer, and she was, like, utterly fabulous. Also, a super nice guy named Neil who kept raving about how young I was, which made him pretty much my favourite person ever. So, after some idle chatter and a quick photo, we all went in to watch the concert experience of a lifetime, but I've raved about that enough, and you've already read it, I assume (if not, you can forget your Christmas Card this year)

(In hindsight, I may have been slightly heavy-handed with the foundation...)

So, concert ends, and we all go hang around the stage door, desperately hoping to get backstage with all the cancer kiddies and D-list celebrities (Memo to self for next time: You're NOT above shaving your head and riding a wheelchair. ) that seem to have accquired the much needed passes that I was missing. I DID manage to sneak through the first security checkpoint by discreetly placing myself in the midst of an official looking group and just walking in with them, but not surprisingly, I was found out relatively quickly and ejected back outdoors (bastards).

Next thing we knew, the alarm sounded, the garage door raised, and two SUVs drove out. SUVs with HEAVILY blackened windows. Liza had been escorted from the building. Now, I can understand perfectly the fact that a 63 year old woman would be bloody exhausted, what with giving the concert performance of a lifetime, not to mention a full day of trying to make those Australian Idol kids sound halfway decent (She's a star, not a fucking Wizard) so I hold nothing against her for the fact that Day One of MinnelliHunt09 was a failure. And it wasn't that it was so much a failure as it was a buildup to the second day. Cos part 2 is where the crazy shit REALLY goes down...

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Welcome aboard, Madame President

Somehow, I managed to be elected President of the work social committee. Now it turns out I was more interested in the concept of being voted number one than the concept of actually running a group of people dedicated to organising events (superficial motivations? From ME? Who'd have guessed?) and now I have to deal with the consequences of my crushing popularity. (Fuck off, those of you that know I was only up against one person.)

It is slightly worrying that, upon being elected, my first thoughts were "How can I use this newfound power to my own advantage and personal gain?", but after a few seconds of flirting with megalomania, I decided that avenue was fruitless, and instead devoted my attention and energy to deciding which fictional president I should use as my character template. Forerunners so far include Laura Roslin from Battlestar Galactica (Although I may have to shave my head for that one) or Bill Pullman from Independence Day, just because I thought he was nifty. Chancellor Palpatine was a likely option for a bit, until I remembered I was trying to steer clear of flirting with the darkside, and Geena Davis from Commander in Chief was ok, but her show got cancelled, which I blame on her poor leadership skills.

I just have to avoid taking after Bill Clinton in any way shape or form. Not sure the bookstore could handle a sex scandal. Well, another one. Especially another one involving me. Although, that DOES explain how I got so many votes...

For those few unbelievers

Here's footage I found from the concert I was at, PROVING how fucking AWESOME Liza Minnelli was. Keep in mind, she's 63. Think of your grandmother. Could your grandmother be as awesome as Liza Minnelli? Probably not. Therefore, Liza is more awesome than your grandma. And quite possible, you.

There's a reason I never think of Frank Sinatra when I hear this song, and this is that reason.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Let the good times roll

So I'm sitting here, on the back verhanda with my room mate and my boyfriend. It's eight thirty at night, but the temperature is still pleasant enough for shorts and a shirt. I'm sipping away at a particularly pleasing white wine. I've spent the afternoon strolling the beach and building a sandcastle. There is a pizza cooking in the oven that we just created from scratch. And you know what? It makes me realise something. I fucking LOVE summer. I've never found myself being a summer person before, but this year, wether it's because I'm living so close to the beach, or just because I'm at the stage of my life where people BECOME Summer People, I'm looking forward to it with a level of anticipation generally reserved for my favourite divas newest albums.

I've always felt I connected much more with my Welsh side than my Australian side when it comes to weather, but right now, as I sit here getting pissed, scoffing pizza and wearing short shorts, I think I may be betraying my heritage for a much more relaxed state of mind.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

So. How WAS she?

After so much excitement and build up, is there any way a concert could live up to the hyped expectations that have developed in my overactive imagination? Normally, I'd have said no. Then I saw Liza Minnelli live at the Opera House, and learnt that homosexual dreams CAN come true. She was an absolute miracle. She had nothing in the way of sets, or props, or fancy staging, but still, she managed to captivate an entire audience for a full two hour show with nothing but her voice and her personality.
From the second she burst onto stage (and I burst into tears...for the first time) she was upbeat, lively and fantabulous, singing all the classics (Maybe This Time, Cabaret, Mammy) and some that I was desperately hoping she'd crack out, even though I wasn't expecting them (If, Liza with a Z, What Makes a Man)
The best part, though, was that despite being in the Opera House, it felt like such an intimate concert. She regaled the audience with stories, and anecdotes, and even just with jokes (Like when she started shifting uncomfortably, then stopped, looked out and declared "My knickers keep riding up!") that were, in many ways, even more entertaining than the songs. It was just unlike anything I've ever witnessed before in my life. I mean, I've seen some concerts in my day. Actually, I can honestly say that I've seen ALL my favourite artists live. Kylie Minogue. Bette Middler. Cher. All of them. But Liza was in a class of her own. The others are true showgirls. Fabulous, amazing showgirls. But Liza Minnelli is Hollywood Royalty. There is nobody on the planet like her. And to watch her live, to bask in her presence. It was unlike anything I've experienced before, or likely after. Her ability to command a room like that, to just captivate every single person in there, is unparalleled, and I'm privileged to have been a part of it.
But the absolute highlight of the night? Her final number, New York, New York. Holy Saint Liza, I think I had a religious experience watching it. She was SO powerful, she almost lifted the damn roof off the opera house. It was fabulous. I've seen concert footage from the height of her career in the 80s where she didn't perform that number with as much energy! And to top it off, she performed "All the Lives of Me" as an encore. I knew she'd have to sing a Peter Allen song, but I didn't realise it would be so amazingly emotional and raw. The fact that before she finished she cried out "Thank you, Peter" ensured there wasn't a dry eye in the house. Thank the gods I wore waterproof mascara, let me tell you...

L Day is Upon Us

**this update was written several days ago...*

This is it. The day I’ve been waiting for for so many months now. L-Day. The 16th of October. The day a lifelong dream is realised, and I see the amazing Liza Minnelli in concert. It’s just 9 short hours now until the concert startts, and I’m writing this whilst driving to Sydney to see her. Well, I’m not LITERALLY driving. I’m a passenger. I’m not THAT talented. (Or crazy)

My hair is done, my bags are packed, and I’m blaring the album Liza at the Palace to get that cabaret spirit pumping away. Words can’t express this level of excitement. Opera House. Liza Minnelli. That should really say it all. Add in the fact that there is a better than average chance of me getting backstage to meet Liza May in person (Oh yeah, baby, let THAT sink in for a second), you can imagine the level of happy coarsing through me.

Even if I don’t manage to meet her, the very fact that I made it onto some sort of guest list? That’s priceless. Absolutely priceless. It helps, I think, that I’m fairly certain Liza and I would get along like a house on fire, but only time will tell. Cross fingers and shoot positive vibes out your eyeballs that all goes according to plan, so that in several hours time, I can post about my experience hobnobbing with the elite, yeah?

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Oh, and in case anyone was wondering, I’ve STILL been unable to find the tickets. Fortunately, Damien at the Opera House was very helpful this morning and assured me I wont need them. I’m not sure if I’m going to have to sleep with someone to get in, it wasn’t made entirely clear. But honestly, if given the option, what do YOU think I’d do??

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

What do you mean, I'm not the centre?

Yes, I realise it's the height of arrogance, but I'm always left surprised when I discover television shows I don't watch anymore are still going, in kind of the same way that you're always taken aback when you find out someone you used to date continues to exist when you're not the sole reason for said existence anymore. (Deal with the fact there's a universe beyond me? Inconceivable!)
Like Heroes. Did anyone else realise this was still going? WHY is this still going? I don't think I've spoken to ANYONE still watching! The funny thing is, during the first season, I was completely obsessed. But wasn't everyone? It was, like, a major cultural phenomenon. It seemed like the next Lost. Except about superheroes. What could be more awesome than that. Most things, apparently. I mean, I know I lost all interest during that first season finale where, after 22 episodes of kickass buildup, we were cheated out of a decent Sylar smackdown and he turned into a sewer cockroach and ran away or something, and Peter sort of exploded a little bit maybe, and Hiro accidentally went back in time. I think. It was a few years ago, and I'm hazy on the details, but I DO remember it was a total train wreck. Hence, I stopped watching. Because it was shit. And by all reports, season two and onwards has continued the general standard of shitness. And now the cheerleader is a lesbian. Hmm.
Or Smallville! Every time someone mentions Smallville to me, I'm amazed at its longevity. What's keeping THAT around? It's certainly not quality. Actually, Smallville is a rant for another blog (HOW do you fuck up Supermans origin story? HOW????) ANd it's entering, like, a ninth season or something now. How the hell did THAT happen? I have no words for my level of amazement at that. Sigh. It's a shame Smallville sucks, too. Can you imagine how incredible a series set in the DC Universe COULD be, if they tried a little harder?
Smallville and Heroes seem to share something, actually, and it seems to be a mutual dislike for Super Heroes. Which is a bit odd FOR TELEVISION SHOWS ABOUT FUCKING SUPERHEROES. Gah. Yet there they are, continuing on in their little self loathing way, whilst shows that I ACTUALLY care about (Firefly, Pushing Daisies, Arrested Development, Veronica Mars, Futurama) vanish off the air? Certainly, this is a sign that there is no justice. Also, if the world DID revolve around me, we'd have much better television. And probably more porn, as well...

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Buying a little Happy.

You know what cheers me up a ridiculous amount? Buying shit online. Despite the fact I'm supposedly partaking in a money-spending embargo (New York is going to be fucking expensive, after all) sometimes, you just can't put a price on happiness. Sigh. I shouldn't be trusted alone on the internet. It all started off innocently enough, with a sensible purchase of a book that I've been looking for forever (How NOT to Write a Novel, thanks for asking. It's fabulous).

But that's where sensible flew out the window. Because, I mean, once the credit card's already out, you'd be CRAZY not to keep using it, right? It's just making more work for yourself. Well, that's my justification, and I'm sticking with it. Anyone that knows me, knows I have a MILD addiction to the Aussiebum website. And heck, it's been ages since I've been on there, so can anyone REALLY blame me for going a little nuts? Besides, it's not like underpants aren't a sensible investment! You wear them all the time, they SHOULD be nice! Shut up. Stop judging me.

More importantly, who wants to see my undies??

My pair of these have "PRIDE" printed across the ass. Because I thought that was appropriate. And cute.

There were several other pairs purchased, but it just dawned on me, you're probably not reading this blog to see the underpants I wear. So I'll stop with the "show and tell", and instead, stick to a more sedate "and tell". Trust me when I say, they're utterly, UTTERLY fantastic. If you're ever feeling even the SLIGHTEST bit down in the dumps, make an Aussiebum order and watch the misery fall off! It's like magic. Hot, sexy underpants magic. The best kind.

Quick update

After writing that last entry, I just went on to iTunes to see if I could find the song from the end of the episode, "I Will Wait for You" by Connie Francis (well, according to Wikipedia, it is) to no avail. I DID, however, find two other versions of the song. One performed by Liza Minnelli, the other by Cher. So. I think that's a win. Obviously I bought them both. Because I can't be trusted left alone with iTunes. At all.

Male PMS? God help us all...

I've been in a bit of a funk the last few days. An inexplicable funk, no less, and we all know that's the only thing worse than the explicable kind. You know that feeling where everything just feels flat? Motivation sits at zero, mood plummets lower every minute, and nothing you do can lift the ridiculously melodramatic fog that seems to have permeated its way into every single aspect of your existence? (It also has a habit of increasing one's sense of literary melancholy, from the look of that) Well, that's been me. I go to work, sulk about, come home, continue sulking, all the while getting crankier at myself for not snapping the hell out of it, at the same time dealing with the fact that at any second you could burst into tears. It's weird. I suppose it DOES offer hope that I can still feel emotion and mustn't be completely dead inside, but you know, there's a happy medium! The good news is, I've since snapped out of it and I'm back to my usual, ridiculous self. So THAT'S a plus.

Looking back on the incident, though, allow me to offer a word of advice. When faced with feelings like that, DON'T think to yourself "Hey, you know what might cheer me up? That Futurama episode about Frys dog." Because if you think that, and then follow through with it, you're an idiot. As we all already know that I AM an idiot, it comes as no surprise that this is exactly what I did.

Now, usually, the one thing guarenteed to snap me out of any downer is Futurama. Of course, this only applies if I follow the cardinal rule, which is AVOID JURASSIC BARK AT ALL COSTS. It's the only episode that I think I've seen less than five times. I just can't bring myself to sit through it, despite it being one of the best episodes of animated television I've ever seen. But no. Apparantly, when you're feeling at your lowest, that's when it's going to be a good time to watch it. *INSERT MASSIVE EYE ROLL*

Should it come as ANY surprise that I cried my eyes out? And I don't mean a little bit. Big, shameful, heaving sobs. The kind generally reserved for Beaches, or Steel Magnolias. And then heaped so much affection on my dog that he STILL isn't talking to me. Damn you, Futurama. Damn you to hell. That ending is the most heartbreaking thing I've seen in a damn long time. And I hate you for it. Side note- this episode LOST the emmy? Doubleyou. Tee. Eff. That blows me away. The episode of the Simpsons that beat it must have been amazing! Or maybe the emmy committee were as pissed as Futurama as I was.

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Batman and Mikey. Spot the difference.

You know, it's one of the first things people notice about me, is how much I resemble Batman. Not physically, of course (despite the fact I DO share a certain level of debonair handsomeness with the Dark Knight) but rather, in our general demeanor. We're both surly, stealthy detective types with a penchant for womanizing and lurking around dark alleys late at night, and we both have an array of gadgets that make our crime fighting AND day-to-day lives that little bit more exciting.
However, there are a few subtle differences. Firstly, Batman tends to have a thing for eight year old boys, which, you know... not cool (although the third Robin, Tim Drake, IS of legal age, and was, coincidentally, one of my first comic book crushes. Along with Superboy. THAT'S not a creepy tidbit to share at all...) but secondly, and the whole reason for that ENTIRE preamble, is the fact that Batman carries around with him the most awesome invention on the face of the planet: Ninja Smoke Pellets.
Actually, these are pretty much a staple in comics and movies, to the point where, the other day whilst dealing with boredom, I started to research their existence. Because who doesn't love the thought of throwing a smoke pellet to the ground and disappearing with a flash of light, leaving enemies (or annoying customers) confused, and potentially suffering an asthma attack? First thing I noticed- you can't buy them on ebay. And Yahoo Answers suggested they were completely fictional, an answer I was entirely unimpressed with. I mean, something that awesome HAS to exist. Nobody can imagine something that cool (Hoverboards from Back to the Future 2 notwithstanding) and not see it through. So, like anyone faced with a tricky situation, I turned to the two internet knowledge staples. Firstly, wikipedia, which had a little information, which can be found here, mainly confirming that they exist in some capacity, but not a great deal more than that. Then I stumbled across the treasure chest that is youtube. There, I've managed to watch a ridiculous number of amateur ninjas demonstrating how to create some sort of working Smoke Pellet, generally involving things like ping pong balls and sandpaper. I'm not ENTIRELY sure that's how Batman does it, but hey. We aren't ALL fighting crime with the complete resources of Wayne Enterprises at our disposal, so suck it up.
Thus, I've decided my transformation into costumed vigilante, crime fighting marvel will be complete when I pimp out my utility belt with a few of these beauties. I can't BEGIN to gush about the real world applications I forsee for these things! I'll never have to waste my time ending a sentence again! Difficult customer? No problem- flash bomb on the floor, next thing you know, I've vanished, lurking behind a gargoyle or something. (Mental note: Have gargoyles installed at work. Also, start carrying grappling hook) I don't know why more people don't use these. Can't you just imagine me, disappearing in a *poof*
Alternatively, I could blow my foot off, but you know, that's a risk I think I'm willing to take. I'll let you know how this goes. I'm forseeing well.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

I sense a great disturbance in the force...

Even though I'm not sure why it's happened, there's no denying that Zombies are very in right now. Like, ridiculously so. I'm not sure why, but you know there's a bit of a pandemic when you have a book on your bookshelf called "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies" (What? With a title that awesome, how could I not buy it?) But this morning, whilst tooling around on youtube, I found the coolest Zombie-themed video I've ever seen, with them popping up in the most unexpected place ever.

Apparantly, this is a fan made video advertising a new book or something, but I don't know. It's fabulous, is what it is. Zombie-tastic. And in the words of Professor Farnsworth, the Jedi aren't going to like this...

I haven't read a Star Wars novel in years, but if this one is as genuinely creepy as this video makes it look, I may have to remedy that. Who WOULDN'T
want to be armed with a lightsaber during a Zombie outbreak?

Set Swoonage to MAXIMUM!!

In case my little Glee rant didn't win you over the other day, I thought I'd how off this clip of the guys from Glee performing "It's my Life" from Bon Jovi that was released as a teaser for this weeks episode. If only because it has resulted in me falling even more utterly, tragically in love with Finn, the lead singer. And holy shit- check out the Asian kids moves! He's fantastic! This show is so great! I'm drowning in a sea of woo!

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

9 days out, tragedy strikes!

Regular readers will no doubt recall, my very reason for living, aka LIZA MINNELLI, LIVE AT THE OPERA HOUSE, is only 9 sleeps away. Which is too exciting for words. However, things are NOT progressing smoothly towards this once in a lifetime event. Despite the fact that the hotel is booked, the outfit is underway and the weekend is well and truly planned, we've hit a minor setback to the arrangements.

The tickets have gone missing.

Let me repeat that, so it sinks in. The fucking tickets to Liza Minnelli are gone.

I've looked everywhere. In draws, under beds, behind photo frames, in the fridge... I've run out of options, and I'm freaking out. The thing that makes the whole thing even more unbearable though, is the fact that the tickets were MY damn responsibility! So clearly, what has happened is, I've put them in some place so ridiculously safe, even Batman couldn't trace them. And as far as detectives go, he's up there... Losing ANYTHING pisses me off, but losing something like this, pissed off doesn't even BEGIN to cover it. I've seen the tickets since movine, so I KNOW they had to be in my room at least once, and it's not like I'm living in the Spelling Mansion. My room isn't THAT big. There can't be that many places for two tickets to hide. So clearly, the only logical explanation is, they've been eaten by Yosh. Further cementing my belief that I have the worlds most useless dog. Maybe I can trade him for seats? I'm sure Liza would look divine with a Yosh-skin purse!

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Am *I* the walrus now??

A few months ago, I was planning to write a blog about how, try as I might, I just didn't GET the Beatles. Not that I had anything actively against them, it's just... they didn't register anything more than absolute indifference in me. I heard a lot about how they "revolutionised music" and "changed the way things were done" and all that guff ad nauseum, but I just didn't see how that translated into anything worth listening to. And then, the world seemed to go into Beatle overdrive, for reasons I'm still not sure of (Was it something to do with Michael Jackson dying? Didn't he own the rights, or something? I'm not sure...), and they were everywhere. I felt like a pilgrim in an unholy land. And the thing that has ALWAYS blown me away about the Beatles is the fact that, for some reason, it's social suicide to mention you don't like them. People look at you with that same judgmental stare usually reserved for people that kick babies, or rape nuns. Which blows me away. It's such a universally vehement reaction, it baffles me! Because, as someone with monumentally bad taste in music (said whilst my Dean Geyer poster stares lovingly at me, and my iTunes blares the soundtrack from "Toxic Avenger: The Musical) you'd think I'd be used to people thinking I'm a retard because of what I listen to. But even I get shocked when I say the Beatles do nothing for me.

So. For reasons still not entirely understood, I shocked myself the other day, and purchased Beatles: Rock Band. Because love them or hate them, I have to admit, the band is well known. I love Rock Band, but my main complaint is, I've never even heard half the damn songs before. At least with this one, I have a vague familiarity with the Beatles stuff, because I haven't been living under a goddamn rock for my entire life. And as much as I hate to admit it, you know what? It's REALLY started to grow on me! I still don't know a Paul from a George (and only know Ringo because in our loungeroom band, I'm the drummer. So, you know, narcissist that I am, I feel a certain connection to him), and I love the songs that make "proper" fans turn their noses up in disgust (I can't believe I'm not supposed to like Yellow Submarine! It's great!!) but the sheer innocent poppiness of them? I dig it! It's like, some of the most fun, infectious music I've ever heard! I'm not sure if I should be worried about the fact that all of my favourits seem to be the most cryptic, indecipherable, drug trips on the game, but dammit, I don't care. I DO see how they fly like Lucy in the Sky. And even if I'm not sure why, I'm pleased that they're both the Eggman and the Walrus. I'm not clear as to why they're dressed like Furries in the film clip, but I'm sure THEY had a good reason for it (actually, the trippy colourful visuals are often so distracting, I forget to play the drums because I'm too caught up in how pretty they are)

And the game is so stylish! I mean honestly, watch this intro, and try NOT to go "oooohhhh" at least once. You can't do it. Finally, I've managed to see why people rave about The Beatles. And all it took was a silly plastic drum kit and some splashy colours in the background to do it!

Monday, October 5, 2009

Broadway just got gayer? Count me in!

Things I like?

Karen Walker? Check

Musical theatre? Check

So the recent announcement from Megan Mullally, that she will be producing and starring in Karen Walker: The Musical on broadway, understandably creates a feeling of contentment in me that borders on post-orgasmic. Because the only thing I love more than the things I love, is when the things I like combine, to make some sort of Super Experience of Love. Such as when Kristen Chenoweth was on Glee, or when Indiana Jones and Han Solo teamed up with Optimus Prime to fight Nazi's and ride motorbikes with the kids from Grease 2. (what do you mean you haven't seen that one? It was awesome. Trust me)

Anyway, seeing as I've dreamt of it forever, I've decided that the patron saint of homosexuals, Ms Walker, has sent me a sign that the time is right to cut the bullshit and finally make the pilgrimage to the Great White Way (Broadway, for the non homosexuals following at home.) What's more, to ensure that this is indeed the trip of a lifetime, I intend to head there over the Christmas period (Christmas 2011, to be precise. I figure I better give Karen a chance to actually WRITE the damn thing), and possibly manage to wing it so that I get to spend New Years Eve in Times Square. How's THAT for a bucket full of awesome?

Honestly, ever since I was a little girl, heading to Broadway has been a dream. And the fact that I get to incorporate stalking one of the most awesome celebrities on the face of the planet, only sweetens the arrangement that much more. And, WHITE CHRISTMAS! I've never even SEEN snow! Sigh. It's going to be EXACTLY like Home Alone 2. But with more alcohol. And less burglars. And no Macaulay Culkin. Actually, not that much like Home Alone 2, to be honest.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

Gunna live forever? Probably not.

I just got home from the Fame remake, and you know what? I still can't decide wether it was fantastic, or complete and utter rubbish. Probably somewhere in the middle, I'd say. Parts of it were, without a doubt, fantastic, but on the other hand, parts of it were, unquestionably, tripe. One thing is certain though. If your parents didn't send you to this school, they don't love you. At all. Which must be tough for you. (And it's the reason MY parents are getting crappy presents for Christmas this year)
Honestly, a school where people burst into random songs at semi-regular intervals? What could be more up my alley? Of course, according to this movie, if I DID go to the Performing Arts High, I would have to become a complete two dimensional caricature, and lose the ability for rational conversation or even basic confrontational skills (Seriously. The number of problems that could have been completely resolved with a sensible discussion between parties was crazy! Did Dawsons Creek teach these kids nothing? You ALWAYS give someone a chance to explain what you think you saw!) but I think I'd be ok with that, for a chance to be taught singing by Megan Mullaly. Actually, I'm sure of it. Megan Mullaly and Kelsey Grammar were the two best things Fame had going for it, and neither of them were in it for nearly long enough, even if Karen did get to belt out one particularly show stopping number.
The best part about attending PA though, would undoubtedly have been the fact that they can cram four years worth of melodrama and performances into just under two hours screen time- and WITHOUT the use of time travel. Of course, to do this, they sacrifice, you know, any sort of plot resolution whatsoever, but by the end, you really don't care who said what to whom, or why character A is breaking up with character B (actually, if you even realised they were in a relationship, you're doing better than I was), or even why they're still attending a school when all the successful kids have dropped out anyway. But whatevs. It was kind of fun, and it kept me entertained, for the most part. Even if I'm still not entirely sure what happened. It's not often I see something MORE scattered than my own thought process. And that's not nothing, that's something. Well done, Fame. I think.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

I think I'm a "Gleek"

I have a confession to make, and I don't CARE how much of a stereotype it makes me. I freaking LOVE Glee. After just FIVE episodes, it's already become one of my favourite shows in recent history. It's just fabulous. I adore it so much, if it was a person, I'm pretty sure I'd marry it. Or at least hook up with it behind the toilets at lunch time. It's got such an unapologetic sense of fun that feels as though it's tapping directly into my brain to spew out everything I've ever wanted in a show. And then turns it up to eleven. The pilot episode features the GREATEST version of "Don't Stop Believing" I've ever seen (ok, I'll be honest. It's the only version I've ever seen, but I'm assured by everyone that it's a song I'm supposed to have heard of, so in the vein of pretending to have decent music taste, I play along...) and the chemistry between the two leads, Rachael and Finn, is so tangible I'm shocked they haven't burst into flames yet. (Also, Finn is my latest celebrity crush. Sorry Piemaker. I've totally mindcheated on you. And I was completely pretending Finn was talking to me in the latest episode, instead of Rachael)
Honestly, I can't describe how fabulous the show is. You're just going to have to trust me on this one. Yes, the writing can be shaky and... well, "simple" would probably be a fairly good description, but it MORE than makes up for it with drama, fabulousness, and energy. When the football team performed Single Ladies in the middle of a game? (Well, it wasn't the middle, but it WAS during...) I thought I'd died and gone to Homo Heaven! The only thing missing was Anthony Callea in angel wings, but given how gay this show already is, it's only a matter of time...
Oh. And Sue Sylvester is the greatest character to come along in YEARS. Dare I say, greatest character since... KAREN WALKER?? Yes. I think I dare.


I'll often yell at homeless people: 'Hey, how is that homelessness working out for you? Try not being homeless for once.'

I'm going to ask you to smell your armpits. That's the smell of failure, and it's stinking up my office.

When I heard Sandy wanted to write himself into a scene as Queen Cleopatra, I was aroused. And then furious.