Just another bitch.

So, when I was in school I had a guy say to me: "I jack off while thinking about you." I pretended like I didn't hear it and went about hooking up with him. Whatever. Then when I heard it again from a different guy after I was done with school, I had to start to wonder if it was coincidence. I have heard it from over five different guys now (in different variations of the phrase). So I have to ask:

Do you really all think that is something a girl wants to hear?

Ok, so i tried to understand all of this. Maybe you guys think that you are paying us a compliment? Like "I think about you so much when you aren't around that I just can't control my physical desires and have to whip it out and make love to a tissue." I think I would rather the more traditional "You are really pretty."

I have to say that I do not want to hear about your masturbatory practices in relationship to me. Maybe some girls dig that and that's their prerogative. Personally, I think it is a little gross (actually, a LOT gross). You jack off to porn and strippers and prostitutes. That's like equating me with that. Not to mention the whole act itself, while natural and perfectly normal, is a little ridiculous looking. No thank you, sir.

That's it. I was just wondering aloud.

Only the Lonely.

Happy Valentine's Day, Romantics!

So, I'm thinking I should probably recap my Valentine's Day for those of you who are curious. (It did NOT include me giving the masterpiece of a mixed CD to PVille Guy.)

It actually started with me getting d-runk, t-rashed, and other such variations of the word, while bowling in Parma. Yes, Parma. For those not in the know (international friends), Parma is pretty much the Ohio equivalent to... um... Chino. I hate to go all OC here, but I would never- NEVER- date someone from Parma- or Chino. Pretty much all of the westside of the Cleve (with the exception of Lakewood) is just a waste of space. Ohio ends at Cleveland for me. (But what about Cedar Point you say? I don't consider that part of Ohio, really.) Anyway, I could go on and on and on about how much I detest Parma and how the eastside of Ohio is the lesser of the two evils (Ohio is just lame all around).

Aaaaaaanyway, I realized that I was the cutest person at the bowling alley. This was a double-edged sword. Great because everyone needs to feel like they're the hottest in the room at least once in their life, not so great because there was not really any one worth my time and effort there (think the cast of "Napolean Dynamite). Of course this led to the increased imbibing of several drinks- including a standby man for any girl, Jose Cuervo.

None of this is relevant if not for the Cuervo that led to the Horrible Hangover of 2009. Not only was I wishing for death, I was hoping it would be quick and painless- like death by French Swordsman or something.  Of course, the days you wish that you were laying in bed relaxing/recovering are always the days before you have twenty of your mother's closest AA friends coming over for a brunch.  

I made cookies and cake and not once did I think of how sad it is that I would be sharing these not with a sig-o*, but a group of recovering alcoholics (actually, on second thought, they probably appreciated it a lot more than a guy would anyway).  

And yes, I did watch Romantic "Girl with unrealistic job and salary meets guy with unrealistic job and salary in New York city and then fall in love, but wait! there's a problem, but no- they're ok because now they're running toward each other on a street" Comedies.  "Must Love Dogs," "Somethings Gotta Give" (really disturbing for younger people, by the way. I had nightmares of Jack Nicholson wanting to date me.), and "How To Lose a Guy in Ten Days" (the most annoying, by far).  Oddly enough, by the end of all of this, I was actually NOT curled up in the fetal position and singing "All By Myself" on the floor.

It was weird.  Because, really, I didn't feel anything.  Not upset or angry or sad.  Hungover, yes, but other than that pretty damn good.  It was like a reassuring "You're gonna be ok" from some unseen voice somewhere.  And gosh darnit, I was!

Why can't they make a movie like that?  Girl with realistic job, crap car, and underpaid salary meets guy with too many issues to count, falls in love, he breaks her heart, she realizes she's ok- no running toward each other on the street.  The end.  Roll credits.  I can understand why the "Friday the 13th" remake did so well this weekend, I guess.  Guy meets girl, guy kills girl, guy kills another girl.  It's the same idea.

For next year, or really any time that you feel the need to immerse yourself in that lovey-dovey feeling, skip the Matthew McC/Goldie Hawn's daughter drivel and go for "Say Anything."  You will love it and respect yourself in the morning.  And that right there reminded me that there's still hope for finding a real Lloyd Dobler.

*Significant other. 

"You know what really grinds my gears?"*

I've got to say it: every time that I decide having children wouldn't be the Hell that I've made it up in my mind to be, I get seated in front of one on a plane.

This particular monster was a four year old red head in a green sweater. He was trouble from the moment I saw him, grinning ear to ear when his mother let him sit by himself in the single seat row.

It started almost immediately after take off. The kicks.

"Stop," his mother whispered. "The lady doesn't like it."

Of course this brat wasn't going to listen to her and she probably knew it, smiling to herself the more exasperated my sighs became.

Which brings me to my point: PARENTS- CUT IT OUT WITH THE SMUGNESS. Seriously folks, I'm not planning on having kids so don't even start thinking "Oh she'll feel differently when she has her own" or "You can't know what it's like until you have one."

I DON'T WANT ONE. OR TWO. OR EIGHT.

Do you know what most economical experts will tell you is the best way to save money? Well, besides buying a boat. NOT HAVING CHILDREN.

And I'm sorry if my life doesn't include picking old Cheerios out of my car or wiping up drool or buying Disney Princess bedroom sets only to have the brat turn around and say that she only likes Hannah Montana now- but that was your stupid choice (and if it wasn't, it's called contraception- look into it).

Really, babies are darling as long as they aren't mine and as long as they don't grow up to be little snots who don't listen and take you for every dime you have.

I'm on to you, children. I get what you're doing... and I don't like it.


*"You, America. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck you."

I'm shipping up to Boston.

So, if you want to know how I was feeling after a weekend of partying hard in Boston, play this video as loud as it goes, bang your head against your desk or a cabinet, and wake up next to a strange (but kind of cute) Asian kid from LA. And this was just my Saturday morning.

To try and recap this night would be a little tricky considering I'm not even sure what happened myself- especially since I was in a completely different place than the rest of my group for about a half an hour (I call it the Lost Cab Ride). Alanna and I used to recap our nights at Miami of Ohio but it really just ended up confusing everyone trying to read it who wasn't there. I can tell you this: I got back on the horse when it came to flirting with guys (and making out with random people), I didn't get back to my hotel until 5 am, and I met a cabbie named AJ who all of us white kids insisted on calling Bootleg (for his lack of a meter).

We may or may not have gotten in a bar brawl- my knuckles are mysteriously skinned and feeling like I connected with someone's jaw. We may or may not have killed a hobo- I'm not sure; it's Boston, crazy shit happens.

We DID have fun though and if I could remember more, I would certainly tell you if I thought you'd understand any of it.

Horror: The Remix.

Everybody (and by that I mean every self-proclaimed expert on any give subject) has a rant lately. Since politics, Obama's family, the job market, and the Economic Stimulus package are all taken, I would like to go off about a not as important but just as prevalent topic:

Horror movie remakes.

I know I could tell you about my adventures of the last week (singing Mr. Big to a sports bar full of white trash stereotypes while flirting with a girl- yes a girl- and wondering if I might have this whole guy thing entirely wrong) or my list of things I'm going to do the next four days in Beantown. But I'd rather do this and it's my blog. If you're bored, you can go somewhere else.

Inspired by both the thirtieth viewing of Michael Bay's newest remake "Friday the 13th" and an article by the wise talent of Pajiba.com, I realized that we are quickly becoming a generation of remakes and remixes and unoriginality. But before I get to that conclusion, let me tell you why I'm so peeved at horror movies in particular. 

"Texas Chainsaw Massacre," "The Amityville Horror," "The Hills Have Eyes," "Friday the 13th," "Halloween," and the upcoming "Last House on the Left" have all been totally redone. "Christine" is also on it's way too. Now, I'm not sure exactly as to the why but I think it's cheaper and therefore guaranteed profit at the box office- but I could be wrong. I'm not a movie producer- I'm a respectable human being.

I've seen all the originals. They're good. Of course they aren't OSCAR good but that's because they are an entirely different category of film making and therefore have their own rules and standards, etc. Cheap thrills, guts and blood, tits and ass. Whatever. One thing they aren't: pretty. Even the film that they are shot on is old (because this new shit wasn't available back then) and there was no such thing as IMAX or HiDef. They are sickening and hard to watch. You are discomforted by it. I never thought that evisceration could be pretty anyway.

And then I saw the remake of "Texas Chainsaw Massacre." And Jessica Beil running around, still looking hotter covered in blood than I ever will. I thought "Damn, this is gross but there's something not right... it feels..." And the word I was looking for was contrived. All remakes feel contrived. Because it's already been done and some hack in Hollywood wants to do it all again to make a quick buck (I think, like I said, I'm not sure).

One of my favorite stupid things Bravo ever did was a list of the top 100 scariest films of all time.  I thought it was a pretty cool waste of time back in school because it a)it was five hours long and when you're hungover on a Saturday, you don't really care and b) included movies I had never even heard of before.  One of those films was "Last House on the Left."  Wes Craven explained that as a peace-loving hippie, he felt the best way to make an anti-violence film was to make violence so revolting that no one would want to do it.

Cut to a week ago when I saw the flashy new trailer for the remake.  With a accoustic cover of "Sweet Child of Mine" sung by a girl and flashy cuts between Monica Potter, Tony Goldwyn, and CJ from the "Dawn of the Dead" remake* and a slogan that goes something like "What would you do if someone hurt someone you love? How far would you go to hurt them back?".   I admit, it had my heart racing and I was excited.  If it could stand alone as its own movie and not be "Last House on the Left," that would be awesome.

Except that "Last House on the Left" is a revolting, gory movie that leaves you with a feeling of both disgust and... no that's it, just disgust.  Actually, anger.  You'll get pretty angry too.  At your friend who wanted to rent it, at Wes Craven for making it, at the actors for doing it.  It's that disturbing.  Read: it doesn't need to be remade!  It did a pretty good job of achieving its goals the first time around!

So that really just brings me to the point: my generation has been scarred by many things; namely reality TV, the Bush Administration, and the need to remake and rehash everything that used to be good.  There are some exceptions- like some examples of sampling by superior hip-hop artists (actually, that's the only exception and even that fails most of the time).   And as far as other movies go, I love Steve Martin- but does he do Peter Sellers any justice by remaking "The Pink Panther"?  (The answer is no.)  Also, why is "Knight Rider" still on?  The original SUCKED ENOUGH!  Yeah, I said it.

Is it that hard to come up with something new?  I don't want to have kids and tell them that all of the movies that came out when I was younger were just remakes and all of the songs I liked in high school were just ripped off of old songs.  Because then I'd have to be like "You need to talk to your grandma, because everything I used to like was already stolen from her generation."

Also, I think it's time to petition Hollywood to STOP raping the Asian Horror film market with their crappy remakes- "The Uninvited" being the most recent, with "Oldboy" being the next victim (even though I'm holding out hope, Mr. Speilberg, I really am), and "The Ring" the only, ONLY, decent one of the whole bunch.

So, in conclusion: Movie Producers please quit while you're not even ahead and spare us from your "inspired" remakes of "Leprachaun" and "Killer Klowns from Outer Space."  Hip-hoppers, keep sampling but use with caution and proceed judiciously.  And TV.  I gave up on you last year because I'm sick of "The Bachelor," I don't care about how much weight Fattie loses at "The Biggest Loser" and I'm still pissed that you cancelled "Swingtown."

*By the way, "Dawn of the Dead" the remake is exempt from this rant (only because I think it is way better than the original.  It's just so good.  And yes it's pretty, but I don't care.  Zombie movies are different.

Oh Phil.

Grr....

I don't think I could take two more days of winter, much less 6 weeks.

Ben!

Congratulations to my former classmate at Miami on his second championship ring!

Also, I found out that Ryne Robinson, another Redhawk, is currently playing for the Carolina Panthers. He holds a special place in my heart because he hit on me at a party once.



ME (in text to Alanna): Why didn't I sleep with Ryne Robinson when I had the chance? I could have had NFL babies and been a real housewife of Atlanta or something!

ALANNA: OMG those are the only acceptable babies.

ME: I'm gonna go ahead and dream that.

ALANNA: Me too. I'm going to dream about visiting you, your hot husband, and your biracial children in your warm weather mansion.