You know I love you, babies.

So, I'm new to blogging, are you supposed to do this often? Or is a month too $hort between entries? What's the protocol here?
*Sorry about the delay, I've been busy getting my Haitian doctoral degree. It's one of my many off-shore accolades that comes with a certificate suitable for framing. When someone says off-shore, do they mean in another country or do they mean some sort of oil rig that's in international waters protected by swarthy bad guys with spray-painted camouflage motor boats and mustaches? I hope it's the one with mustaches. I've also been getting my master's degree, which will undoubtedly contribute to my mastery of concerns, both domestic and abroad and even in international waters. I've also started collecting historical heirlooms from the Franklin Mint, including but not limited to: Cutty Sark: The Golden Age of Sail Nautical Watch. Don't ask me! It's my investment in America. My old man used have a stash of Cutty Sark in the game cabinet (there was also a pistol, a blindfold, an autographed copy of the Deer Hunter, a Tripoli mat, Monopoly, Aggravation, and a leather-bound copy of the Magna Carta) and I remember thinking it was Cutty SHARK, with an H, because there was a ship on the label. I was a fucking idiot when I was 30. I mean why would Shark be in all caps with an italianized H?
Anyway, here we are and I just realized that this blang is sort of like the equivalent of one of those spoof/send-up movies (Date Movie, Epic Movie) except less sincere. I guess that m
akes me the Leslie Nielsen of the internet (aside from the actual Leslie Nielsen of the internet). So this is just a lite re-tap of what's been touching me lately.
1. Catholic priests. Ah-ha-ha! Topical!
2. A while back my friend Aliccia and I decided to start a letter writing campaign to get us gigs with some famous rock bands. Here's a sample letter of mine to Lou Reed:

Dear Lou Reed,

I am writing this letter to you in hopes of joining your band. I understand that you may have a vacancy for an additional guitarist for your upcoming tour. I have been playing guitar for over two years now. I have mastered most of the barre chords, but can't really play solos so hot. I own a Mexican Fender Stratocaster that I got at a Guitar Center (not as cool as that wild thing you play without a headstock!) I have all the necessary cords and straps and a pretty loud amplifier. I've been in a few bands, you would probably have heard of Perspective or Time Tunnel if you heard of any of my bands. I have studied most of your music, however, I am not as well familiar with your work in the Velvet Underground band. To be honest, and I think honesty is important if we're going to jam together, the Velvet Underground was kinda boring and the drumming sucked (my friend Aliccia could help you out with drums, she's trying out for Can right now).

I first learned of your solo music from hearing Take A Walk On The Wild Side on one of the local rock radio stations a few years back. The disc jockey played Jackson Browne before you which made me think you might know him. Do you? No Nukes. Right? Anywa

y, it really had an impact on

me. I couldn't believe the program director of that station allowed you to say "head" (as in even when she was giving head...)! I mean they always beep out the word SHIT in that live Bob Seger song! So anyway, I bought Transformer because the cover really caught my eye (plus, it was part of the Value Series). I have to say, the back cover is a little gay, but it was the 1970's, so I guess everyone looked gay but didn't realize it. At least you don't have a story about getting your stomach pumped because you had three quarts of semen in it like Rod

Stewart did. Anyway, I just wanted to say I love your solo work and although you weren't my first choice, we should get together so you can "try me out" or whatever for your band. Or if you want to audition me over the phone, send me your phone number, I can call you or whatever.

Sincerely, Greg ********

Aliccia's Letter to Queen:

Queen address

February 23, 2006

Dear Brian May and members of Queen,

I was recently reading the Wikipedia entry on Queen and was pleased and relieved to see Brian May’s recent quote regarding the status of Paul Rodgers’ inclusion in the group. As to the question of whether Paul Rodgers is in the band, Mr. May cleared up the matter to say that Paul Rodgers would be “featured with” Queen, not replacing the late Freddie Mercury.

Understandably Mr. May and Queen have reservations in their attempted whole-hearted embrace of Paul Rodgers, not the least of which are his limitations as an instrumentalist and his promiscuous nature and penchant for tribute performance. Notably, his misguided decision to perform John Lennon’s Imagine in 2005 likely raised some confusion in the press and caused fans to question if John Lennon and Freddie Mercury were the same person. To state it bluntly, none other than he should have known better. That being said, with this letter I would like to submit my own application to join Queen. To not per say replace Freddie, but to take on his musical role and lead the band into the future. Let me start by pointing out that I have vast experience singing with a band, and I am proficient on keyboards, piano, synthesizers and rhythm guitar. My name and my enthusiasm for Queen may be already known to you from an interview with Erica Gallagher in Venus magazine in 2003 in which I am quoted as to have said that Freddie Mercury is my favorite rock star. Lest you doubt my enthusiasm for the group as a whole, although not explicitly stated by me, the further intended implication of this quote is to say that Queen is my favorite rock band.

My personal relationship with Queen’s music and what I like to call “Queen attitude” go back much earlier than this 2003 interview. I took great pleasure in performing We Are the Champions and Another One Bites The Dust at performances and events dating back to 1987. Interestingly, in the multi-instrumentalist tradition of all the original Queen members, I play the bass line to these songs on the trombone. Today I still enjoy playing and singing Queen songs whenever I get the chance. This brings me to my most interesting and compelling qualification for your consideration, which is my uncanny resemblance to Freddie Mercury. Interestingly a friend of mine even suggested that it might be in my destiny to be a member of Queen.

Not to say that I knew Freddie, but he was a performer clearly in touch with his anima. The band that he was such an integral part of would be disserving itself to not have either a gay or female member. Undoubtedly issues are raised with consideration of a female Queen member. Let me lay those to rest. In all likelihood the number one issue that comes to mind is the co-status of gender and bottom. I am not a fat bottomed girl and yet I still find no offense in the track Fat Bottom Girls and in that spirit will enjoy performing it.

I appreciate your consideration of my membership. Note that I have a very flexible schedule. I can start immediately and am available to jam basically any night of the week. For your convenience I have enclosed a recent picture of myself.

Best Regards,

Aliccia Berg

Presently of the band Slumber Party

That's it. two thingys in a month. I'll make sure the door doesn't hit me in the ass whence I walk out.

5000, Valkyries

Top 10 Things Right Now

1. Spelt. No, not the fake indie band from that handbag mixed tape (pause mix) from 1994. You know, the fake indie band that had that fake song between The La's and Oasis, because who could have predicted that Oasis would turn out to be such useless douchebags, after all, even? The grain...or, it's a grain, right? It's sort of like a mix between rice and barley, with some nuttiness to it. It might just solve your 'I don't know what to have for dinner tonight, rice or barley or nuts?' problem. I'll just skip the nuts for dinner joke, I'm too cosmopolitan for that balderdash, buttholes.

2. The Dog Show. It's sort of like a dog and pony show, but no pony. Dog people are weird. Not dog owners, Dog people. They're like werewolves but instead of fucking around with the Creature from the Black Lagoon, they eat peoples trash and work security at Target. Oddly enough, they shop at K-Mart for Tom McCann shoes, misty taupe L'eggs control-top pantyhose and Jacqueline Smith separates. But about the show, if you even just kinda like dogs, it's worthwhile. Even if your experience with dogs is primarily through watching My Dog Skip or the criminally overlooked Beethoven series-- big ups to Grodin--or jamming the Baha Men's Y2K hit, Who Let the Dogs Out? or even just calling your feet your "dogs," you'll

 love the dog show. You can see all types of dogs- from ones that are famous- Cujos, Totos, Lassies, Man's Best Friendses, Hooches, Spuds McKenzies, Alex from Stroh's, those fucked up ones from Men in Black, Cliffords and TacoBells- to ones that just think they're famous! (Go back and read that sentence again like Steven Kojocaru would) Just by listing famous dogs, you realize that there is a lot of room for new dog stars- I can't figure out why there hasn't been a dog-buddy pic that features a Cardigan Welsh Corgi, Komondor, Bouvier des Flandres, or Affenpinscher yet. It's like, what the F, Bruckheimer? Did you ever see that movie, Best in Show? Well, if you haven't, it's a Christopher Guest movie that was made back when he was funny. It's just like that except that instead of Parker Posey, you get some weird mid-state woman who heats with propane and lets her kids pretend the above-ground septic tank is a bio-fuel 4-wheeler prototype.

3. Lost- never in my whole TV life did I expect to like something that makes as little sense and is as hopelessly hopeless(no matter what plot twists and secrets are divulged, it's not supposed to end for two and a half more seasons--aprox. 58 episodes) as this made-for-TV clusterfuck. Now, I'm not as bad as some people who dabble in nerdsmanship and jam to Lost podcasts on the elliptical at the YMCA, but I'm totally into TV that insults my multiple intelligences, beguiles my mind grape, grudge fucks me, and makes me feel stupid for loving Matthew Fox......again.

4. Actress Bai Ling stealing batteries and Star magazines from the airport. I love when actresses shoplift. I think she was Asian. Free Winona!

5. Robert Downey Jr. as Iron Man. And the fact that they actually secured the rights to Iron Man by actual Black Sabbath and not some contrafracting karaoke version done by like I don't know, someone featuring fucking Chad Kroger. To think that RDJr. went from a gapped-tooth asshole who dumped slushie all over Gary and Wyatt at the mall to playing a 3rd-line superhero....well, everything is just coming into focus these days for us, innit?

6. J.K. livin'. Matthew MacConaughey is going global with his brand of hesher/casual beachwear line. We'll assume that the collection will be shirtless, brothers and mamas. I look forward to wearing his bandanas, flip flops, and water wings. BTW the JK part is "just keep" in JK livin'. Fool's gold, I tell ya!

7. Deathstorm 2008. For those of you thought snow was extincting due to Al Gore movies, Mother Nature's all, "suck on it, Midwest!" The Great Lakes will be one foot higher this

 Summer because of all this accumulation, which is gonna probably make a couple people get bellysmacked from diving and not accounting for the extra foot before splashdown. Ouch!

 
8.Tax Rebate Cheques. I don't know why I spelt it all Canadian. So in May, I plan on stimulating the shit out of the economy by buying $600 worth of Crystal Meth, thereby kicking off IRS Summer 2008! I'm just kidding, please don't audit me.

9. They found Moby Dick. While hanging out (skeet shooting found pirate china) near the Aleutian islands, some researchers saw a white killer whale. One of the researchers, Jeff, quickly threw his hacky sack down and rummaged through his hair to find the camera and snap one off. 

 The mythical creature then jumped out of the water, did a jazz routine, and said,"you think I'm special, you should see the giant squid or the 6-tentacled octopus, or the fresh water stingray.....hi-yo!"

 

10. Blogs. Spirit award goes to you.  I don't know how you people do it. I can't read anyone's blog all the way through. Diablo Cody's has tits even and I gave up after one paragraph of self-serving hack. They bore the shit out of me. Then again, I'm not a strong reader. 

Retractions

I earlier reported that Miley Ray Cyrus was like 13 and already looked like she got hit in the face with a cartoon skillet. Miley Ray Cyrus is 15 and looks like she got hit by a cartoon frying pan. I am also reporting a change of heart after seeing the M-dog chug Heinz 57 Ketchup on Leno. If she continues this type of behavior, she may find herself in my good graces. One suggestion: instead of Ketchup, next time try something even more teeny-boppery, like Heinz 58 Kerosene.

Oscar Aftermayhem: Losers, Boozers, and Who Are You Wearing?

I hate to say I told you so, but I did, didn't I...tell you so? Bastard in a basket! Save for the pesky 'best supporting actress', I was fairly accurate when it came to predicting Oscar gold and the associated pomp and ballyhoo that comes with that brand of accolade. Now, I'm not suggesting that my picks were controversial or even daring, but I did ride the "dark horse of Cotillard Stables" into Best Actressdom Hills (a gated community, with 3-bedrooms starting in the low 1.3's). I also brazenly predicted that John Travolta would steal the show (he often does) and be the #1 goldbricker who actually applies Ronco Spray-On Hair ('as seen on TV', again!) to the scalp before a nationally televised event...did I stutter? No, a stammer is quite different from a stutter. As predictable as the night was, it was altogether unpredictable when it came to the glitzy razamatazz Hollywood is famous for (imagine Humphrey Bogart, James Dean, Marilyn Monroe and a duffing soda jerk at the same sad diner!) First off, here's my disses:

Low-lifes:

Diablo Cody winning best original screenplay. After cringing through the Sunny Delight portion of this screenplay, we run into the term "homeskillet," delivered, no doubt, by Dwight from The Office. We are later dry-jammed by the proposition that a sixteen-year-old girl is going to have the Stooges, the Runaways, and Patti Smith tied for her 'favorite band'...only to then be preposterously lead to believe that the same sixteen-year old is going to have an opinion about Dario Argento movies. Knock it off, Cody. Save that projecting shit for your Seacrest interview. BTW, nice Flintstones dress, adult entertainer.

 

Best Adapted Screenplay going to Joel and Ethan Coen. I make love to No Country, however, it was total bullshark that There Will Be Blood didn't snag this one. It should have been 'in the pocket' for the milkshake dialogue alone. The only reason I can think of for the dis is that Daniel Day-Lewis Mad-libbed a bunch of shit instead of sticking to the screenplay. Daniel Plainview :  That was one __Adjective__ helluva show. Goddamn!

Jon Stewart's John Travolta's airplane joke. I can't believe that Bret Michaels has trademarked the prase "hi-yo!" Stewart should have totally risked litigation and used a "hi-yo" after that church fart. Get thee to a Bret's Brew ASAP, Big Jon.

Jon Stewart's iPhone joke. Really? Did you really? Did you just use an iPhone as a "new media" joke prop? Your awesome card is on probation.

Miley Ray Cyrus' whole thing. First off, nice face, bitch. You're like 13 and you already look like you got hit in the face with a cartoon skillet. Second of-ly, nice haircut. Where'd you get it? Subway? Is Subway giving haircuts now? Give me a 6" Cold Cut Trio on Wheat, toasted. Everything except hot peppers. A little bit of mayonnaise. I said a little bit, Tranny! Gaaaah. Baked Lays. 

And a mohawk.

The Academy for skimping on the in memoriam segment. No Renfro? No Anna Nicole? No Charles Nelson Reilly? No Roy Scheider? No Richard Dreyfuss? No Rob Schneider ? No David Blaine? No cast of Friends? No Michael Richards? No justice, no peace, motherfuckers!

Highlifes

The banana peel they put by the podium where types of famous peeps almost bit it. 

Oscar's salute to binoculars and periscopes

Gaydolf Titler

Rage Against the Machine's PMRC protest

No Sean Penn lectures about how Jude Law is one of the 'finest actors of his generation'

No Robin Williams 

THE O-FACE

I'm feelin' the A-cads this year. I'm about to drink your milkshake. Drink it up! Other years concerned themselves with Sean Penn and what movie Sean Penn was either in or not in or how Sean Penn is the finest Phillip Seymore Hoffman of his generation or what have you, while other members of the Academy (cut to Nicholson's reaction) and such were concerned with voting in actors whom: a.) attempted retarded (cut to Jamie Foxx noticing himself being noticed) or b.) have successfully fulfilled requisite retardation for shoe-in nommies (cut to Juliette Lewis' place card ) Mind you, this is not to make light of retardation, but to further illustrate said nominee's masterful control of his or her "instrument" and/or "craft", etc. to portray special needs homies. Traditionally, executive bonuses are doled for either ethnic or Scientological actrons participating in features concerning romance, heartwarming comedy and retardation-- or the gold standard, right honorable Giovanni Ribisi Memorial Cash Settlement for the benefit of Kirstie Alley's dinner check. Fried! That was sooo Jeffrey Lyons of me. Anyway, this year is special insofar as the nominees' roles are a.) not drinking from the already dessicant well of retardtivity, b.) not making crystal meth addiction the new retarded, c.) not retarded crystal meth addicts (this gets into the murky and often frowned-upon Harmony Korine/ Crispin Glover territory) So here's my pricks for this year's movie prizes:

Best Actor (in a leading role)Daniel Day-Lewis, There Will Be-Blood. 

 Daniel Day-Lewis is all, "my left foot? It's broke.

 Commence to swingin' from my left nut, as if you were an 28-foot oil derrick." What? Like he wasn't thinking that? This ain't the Age of Innocence, y'all. He's got a competition in him. Besides, who's gonna step in the ring?

Viggo? Cloon-Tang clan? yeah, okay.

Best Lady Actor (leading role)-
Marion Cotillard, La Vie en Rose. Julie Christie this, Julie

 Christie that. Julie Christie reminds me of Agatha Christie which reminds me of Nancy Drew which in turn reminds me of Miss Manners, Judith Martin, who reminds me that I ought respond to a dinner party invitation in kind, using the degree

 of formality in which the invitation was conveyed. Don't get me started on Heloise! Hey Christie, why don't you go back to your highly successful auction house and bid on yourself. You think you're on Golden Pond, bitch? Why don't you go suck face and cruise chicks at the BAFTA awards instead? Cotillard is so in-your-face on this one, it hurts. I usually wouldn't pick a lady from a foreign film as best actor with lady parts, but I'm going with Jackie on this one and riding the dark horse of Cotillard stables.

Best Supporting Actor -Javier Bardem- 

No Country For Old Men. No Competition For Bar Dem. Dude is sickening in this. Ever wish that actors were sometimes not

 actors and instead were just weird hitmen with gnarly haircuts and black polyester Levi's who they just found in Barstow and put in a movie? I was kinda bummed out that Jav was actually a pedigreed man with an acting career. Or, conversely, a pedigreed actor with a man career. Either way, I'm lucky because my friend Johnny has long hair and wears black polyester Levi's and he just likes to get stoned and listen to bubblegum music instead of relying heavily on fate and mercilessly killing people with a captive-bolt pistol.

Best Supporting Lady Actor- 

Amy Ryan- Gone Baby Gone. I guess. This is sort of like choosing your favorite air freshener. Who gives a shit if it's citrusy or flowery as long as it doesn't give you asthma? This is the category that's gonna fuck your ballot up royally. Shit is toight! Tilda Swinton has just as good a chance, but I can't pull the trigger on her- she kind of frightens me, like in an M. Night Shymalan kind of way...OK, bad example. Swinton's gonna win isn't she? Do you see my dilemma? Gone Baby Gone has to win for something, right? Or maybe not. Has anybody even seen this piece of shit?

Best Director(s)-
Joel and Ethan Coen- No Country for Old MenWhy not? I guess they seem likable, right? At least they're not as creepy as those whack-jobs, the Wachowski brothers. Not as funny as the Marx brothers, but almost as funny as the Van Dyke broughams. Anyway, the only reason I'm picking them over PT Anderson is that There Will Be Blood might kinda blow if not for DD-L. I'm trying to imagine who could replace Daniel Day-Lewis and get away with an Oscar contender. Short list: Geoffry Rush, Ian McShane, Ray Winstone...basically, anybody who was in Sexy Beast. That's abou it. And that's why No Country shall prevail!  I hope that sack of shit Schnabel doesn't pop up in there like an unwanted air-conditioning boner in pajamas and yellow-tinted wayfarers. Besides, Schnabel, I'm still holding you accountable for the Soho art scene of the late 1980's.....well, you and Keith Harring. You killed Basquiat! You stabbded him in the heart with a shard of broken plate!

Best Picture (Movie Type Motion Picture)-No Country For Old Men.
Some people are griping about the ending, but it makes perfect sense if you see it twice and not high. The whole meaning of the movie is in the title of the movie. Some critic-types like to rely on nieuance and conjecture and fancy Harvard degrees when trying to decipher meaning from certain movies- I like to read the title and/or look at the poster as context clues as to what the dumb-shit movie is about. 9 times out of 10 the title will clue you in to what it's about. For example: Jaws- while the title itself doesn't tell you it's about a giant rubber shark who eats awesome 70's tits, THE POSTER might help you out. Either way, jaws are involved in this motion picture. In the case of No Country for Old Men, Tommy Lee Jones plays what? An old man. Henceforth, this is no country for him! So what's with the soliloque at the end? He's pointing out that he'll never be able to change anything and ultimately, the country will always be filled with outlaws and mop-topped freaks who like to get they kill on. Cleanin' it up just ain't in the cards, hombre. It's just a dream, brotha. This ain't intramurals, It's the motherfuckin' badlands, for certain. Anyway, this movie spake to me more than Blood, so I give it bigger gold star.

Best Supporting MILF-
You wish, pervy.

GLARING NOMINATION OMISSIONS:
BEST ACTOR:Russell Crowe, 3:10 To Yuma
Emile Hirsch, Into the Wild
Denzel Washington, American Gangster
That little English kid, This is England 

Ruffalo, Zodiac
Sam Riley, Control

Best Picture:
Superbad

Knocked Up

Zodiac
American Gangster

Best Lady:
Helena Bonham Carter, Sweeney Todd

Best Soundtrack:
There Will Be Blood- I know, there's one Brahms piece so it's dq'd, but I'm gonna go ahead and say fuck off to the academy.
Into the Wild- say what you will about edward vedder, it worked.

I'm not gonna bother with the rest. Just divy it up - coustumes and shit go to Sweeney Todd, Ratatouille.

SEE YOU AT THE MOOOVIIES!

I'd also like  to take this opportunity to say that I'm sorry for any of my Friendsters that I left hangin' for like 3 years. I promise that I'll answer your 2005 questions shortly. And in some cruel twist of fate, we shall all go back home, even though we can never go home again.

High School Musical. No Shit. A Critical Review of Seaholm High School's production of Footloose.

The harrowing preamble of the Kenny Loggins-pired overture to "Footloose" imposed its berserking will on unsuspecting theater-goers, laying waste to even the most seasoned community-theater-fancier and Mr. Doso, AP Chemistry teacher, in 4/4 time. No one seated in the raked, American procenium-styled auditorium suspected that even the most casual of musical-theater supporters (including a group of high school bitches in row H who kept fucking up the wireless microphone headset signals because they kept texting each other about how to suck even more or how 'hott' Ren (Colby Holdings) looked in a scandalously loose tie, popped collar, and 'down to business' sleeves-up blazer--JUMPBACK!! WTF) would become casualties by the first exeunt. The shock and awe of the spectacle made me wonder if I was seeing a high school production of "Footloose" or if I might have inadvertently stepped into some sort of awesome land mine and blew the shit out of my life and was all dead and flew up to some sort of Kevin Bacon-themed amusement park in heaven and shit. Six degrees of shit yeah. Six Flags of Kevin Bacon? Six Degrees over Kevin Bacon. 65 degrees of raging boner! The musical accompaniment proved to pack the 1-2 punch that the Fall production of "Dirty Dancing" sorely lacked. Several school officials blamed the lackluster performance on the Boosters (it's always their fucking fault), but orchestra pit insider and Cellist, Phillip A. Tang, indicated that an intense and distracting turf war between the Musical Ensemble and Jazz Ensemble lead to missed practices, tuba wounds, broken reeds, clogged spit valves, and even worse acne for the percussion section. 

  With a tender but assured performance from lead floutist, Jennifer Shoreler, who seemed to be preoccupied between flouts by adjusting an oversized Jodeci sweater that kept falling off her shoulder, picking Red Vines licorice remnants out of her braces, and guffawing at cut-up Brandon Donker (making rude hand gestures at the expense of contrabassoonist Shawnda Stevens' adolescence) the Footloose ensemble masterfully provided the poignant soundtrack to the show- including three hits (Almost Paradise- Mike Reno feat. Ann Wilson, Let's Hear It for the Boy- Deniece Williams, and Footloose- Kenny Loggins)- Waiting For a Girl Like You by Foreigner being the glaring omission, of course.

music alone doesn't make a musical. I realize that sounds counterintuitive, but you know where i'm headed. Colby fucking Holdings. O.K., if you're going to do Ren McCormick, you've got some mighty big docksiders to fill (not only Bacon, but Adrian Zmed's Branson, Missouri production). Unfortunately, Holdings is about a penny shy of a full loafer. He might think about sticking with some sensible balmorals, some gouache moc-toed kilties, or even a nice Algonquin paneltoe. Can I stretch this metaphor out any longer? can i be any more bored of a blog? Fuck this, i'm going to go watch project Runway instead.