At the ICU Movies…

27 03 2009

I just arrived from my vacation (read: stay) at the ICU for cancer treatment.  It was a hellish experience, one filled with crying, crapping my own pants, and moderately hot nurses.  I will probably write on it more fully at a later date.

For the moment, however, and in the interest of full-disclosure, I need to tell you, reader, that I just got back home today, and am still absolutely fucking wasted from the drugs they had me on.  If you’d like to know how wasted, let me just inform you that it took me no fewer that half a dozen tries to italicize wasted in that last sentence.  FIRST I CAPITALIZED IT.  THEN I CAPITALIZED AND MADE IT BOLD. then i made it small but still bold. Then it was just bold. And then, finally, viola!

So…yeah…that’s how I spent the past 20 minutes of my day.

Anyway, instead of writing about boring medical stuff, I thought I’d use this space to do some….MOVIE REVIEWS! [CUE  LARGE, OVER PRETENTIOUS, HOLLYWOOD FAN-FARE HERE.]  I love writing movie reviews, and it occurs to me that I never do them on this site.  So let’s do some now, shall we?  Ha ha, isn’t that cute?  Me, pretending as if you have a choice:

A QUICK NOTE/WARNING: I was so completely blasted with either drugs or pain or illness while in the hospital that I didn’t actually finish most of these movies.  Many of them I didn’t make it through the first 15 minutes through.  One of them I didn’t even get the plastic wrap off of.  But then I figured: that’s probably not very different from the way professionals do it.  So let’s go!

Dr. Horrible’s Sing Along Blog

Okay, quick confession: I saw this a few weeks before I got into the hospital, but I watched it again while there, and it was the perfect tonic to my suffering.  It’s short, but great.  Do you like heroes and evil professors?  Do you like singing?  Do you like Neil Patrick Harris?  Do you like the mind numbingly boring chore, laundry? (psyche! I love it!), then do yourself a favor, go to, and watch this very short web gem.


The world's all messed up, and he just needs to rule it.

The story is a simple one, as we follow pathologically shy but extremely ambitions Dr. Horrible (Neil Patrick Harris) as he attempts to A) Take over the world and B) Win over his dream girl Penny (Felicia Day).  His efforts on both fronts are disrupted by mega-douchebag superhero Captain Hammer (Nathan Fillion).  This short-internet only piece was directed by Joss Whedon, who brought the TV world Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Firefly, and most recently Dollhouse, along with a bunch of others I’m sure my TV nerd friends will yell at me for forgetting.  Whatever.  According to Jim is now past it’s eighth season and the brilliant Firefly gets canned after one?  Fuck you, Satan, and  your obvious  active role in human affairs.

In the Line of Fire

I was only able to make it through like the first ten minutes of this one, again on Hulu, but here is all you need to know about those first ten minutes to make you realize you need to see this movie.  The opening scene of the movie is a guy in a car, right, and he’s super super nervous.  Like, pissing his pants nervous.  So you assume he is going to meet the bad guys on some sort of undercover assignment, right?  WRONG!  Actually he is nervous because he has recently moved to Washington and is on his way to meet his new partner…Clint Fucking Eastwood. Yeah, you might be a little nervous about that.  Anyway, after showing up late, this nobody gives Eastwood a big long speech about how he’s new to the city and his wife is pregnant with triplets or some shit and he’s trying to buy a house, and Eastwood just gives him a look that communicates three things, in no uncertain terms: A) Those excuses are gay  B) You’re a pussy  C) I was banging your mom during those brief seconds you thought you were late.  The lesson here folks: don’t be late when you are meeting your new co-worker, and it’s Clint Eastwood.  In fact, you should probably just go ahead and get to whatever spot  Clint Eastwood expects  to meet you 24 hours in advance, just so there is absolutely no confusion.

Hello, Mr. Bad Guy?  This will be your reading partner for this next scene, Mr. Eastwood.  Oh, and PS...this is your last scene in the movie...

Hello, Mr. Bad Guy? This will be your reading partner for this next scene, Mr. Eastwood. Oh, and PS...this is your last scene in the movie...

Another awesome thing about this movie I almost forgot to mention: the main villain is John Malkovich! This can only lead me to assume that the movie ends with a big show-down where Eastwood and Malkovich are playing Texas Hold ’em against each other, and the following exchange ensues:

A hand of Hold ’em is being played.  Malkovich deals.  He deals the river…the Ace of spades.

MALKOVICH (breaking an Oreo cookie next to his ear) :How does it feel…BIG…TOUGH…AH-MER-AH-KAN!  Does it hoit?  That ace of spades could not…have…helped…you…I think.  (He peeks daintily at his hole cards.)  No no no no, Clint East-a-vold…that last bullet did not help you.

Eastwood stares grimly at his hole cards… an 83o which he is playing because he sucks at Hold ’em.  Then he remembers that he’s Clint Fucking Eastwood and doesn’t play queer games like Texas Hold ’em, whips out his .44, and plugs Malkovich right between the eyes.

EASTWOOD (rasping, obviously) : That bullet helped me.

I’m getting way too tired now, so I will wrap this blog up tomorrow with reviews for Friday, Confessions of a Superhero, and Hard Candy, and maybe some other shit I can’t think of right now.  So let me just end this first part with an idea I had for a movie once.  I dreamed it, actually.  It was an action movie, and it starred Clint Eastwood, Chuck Norris, and Randy Bell.  It was very very short, because they found and obliterated the villains so quickly, but when I woke up my sheets were all wet.  Also, my cat was pregnant.

My cat’s a boy.

Until next time, movie fans, the ICU movie theater…is closed!

Stuff and stuff and stuff and stuff…

30 10 2008

I haven’t written in a while, because…well, I have nothing to say. And I still don’t, but it would be a shame to let this valuable web-space go to waste. Also: I’m drunk. So here is me writing stuff about things:

Do we really have to let EVERYONE vote?

Okay, so back when Jesus came over on the Mayflower and wrote the Constitution, the law was only white, male land-owners could vote. That was bad. We have progressed as a society, and now everybody gets a vote. And I can’t help but wondering if we’ve gone a little too far.

For example, did you know there are people out there who actually, genuinely believe Barack Obama is secretly a terrorist who, if elected, will convert the entire country to Islam? And that there are people who, with a straight face, claim that John McCain will declare war on every other country and cause the collapse of civilization? “The Daily Show” did a great bit a couple of nights ago, sending a corespondent to both a McCain and an Obama rally. Watch the episode here, if it pleases you. If you don’t want to watch it, let me summarize it for you. There are some dumb people, out there. Like…mind numbingly, soul crushing, losing all faith in humanity, dumb. And these people get to vote. And their vote counts just as much as yours and mine. Which means, hypothetically, if I decided to go vote for Obama, my vote will just be canceled out by some some moron that thinks Obama is related to Saddam Hussein because his middle name is Hussein.

Are you fucking serious?

I’m sorry, but I think there should be a pop quiz when you go to vote. If you ACTUALLY think Obama is a terrorist that will force everyone to pray to Allah, or whatever, or you ACTUALLY think McCain is going to force all your gay friends to marry people of the opposite sex and read the Bible every morning, you don’t get to vote. Period. Also, I get to take you out back and wack you with various tough-but-non-permanent-mark-leaving objects.

Singing and dancing becomes cool again. Wait…singing and dancing were never cool! What the hell is going on here?

“High School Musical 3” is currently the #1 grossing movie in the country(see?). And I think that’s neat.

(Note: In order to get the correct interpretation of that last line, please picture me making a sarcastic wanking motion with my hand while saying it. Thanks.)

high school musical Pictures, Images and Photos

High School Musical: Where my soul goes to die and subsequently get anally raped by Satan for all eternity. Also: what’s the deal with the blond dude in the upper right corner? I have no idea who he is, but I’ve never wanted to punch someone so badly in my life.

I promised myself this would be a cancer free blog, but…

I have a question: Am I the ONLY person in the world under the age of 85 with cancer? Seriously, every time I go in for a doctors appointment, the God damn waiting room looks like Sunday morning at Perkins. Not that I would EVER wish cancer on anyone, but…I sort of wish some more people my own age would get cancer. You know, just so I have someone to talk to in the waiting room about something other than grandkids, hard candy, how loud music is nowadays, and what joint is aching on them today. Also, they smell bad.

How many old people stereotypes did I work into that last paragraph? I was aiming for five. Did I get five? I count five.

I should be in bed and I have to pee, so I think that is the end of this blog. Oh…I think I just thought of a clever ending catchphrase…