Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Saturday, December 22, 2012
What a bloated disappointment. Be prepared, this is another nearly 3 hour movie in which Batman is actually on screen maybe 30 minutes. In fact, it takes nearly an hour for Bruce Wayne to stop acting like a fucking baby and put on the cape and cowl. I guess he is in this 7 year depression over the loss of his childhood sweetheart Rachel Dawes. Well, the Batman I know wouldn't be hobbling around in self pity. He's built up a nearly impenetrable wall of emotion after his parents' death and dedicated his fucking life to being the Dark Knight. Then enters Anne Hathaway as Catwoman...
Shortly after meeting Bruce, she simply kicks out his crutch and he falls to the floor like a simpleton and she escapes with his murdered mother's pearl necklace. OK...sure. Anne Hathaway is terrible in this role. My eyeballs are sore from rolling them every time she comes on the screen. She takes the character in a such a typical cornball/sex kitten direction. Is she a lesbian? Is she straight? Who knows...who cares. There was no chemistry between her and Christian Bale. Honestly, she wasn't even needed in this story.
Then Alfred brings up Bane to Bruce Wayne and it sounds like he is reading his wikipedia page. Bane's voice sounds like the fucking Emperor from Star Wars. Lets talk about the fight... Batman gets his ass mopped across the floor when they first meet. I would guess he lands like 3 punches and the rest is Bane fucking him up with the power of the incredible Hulk. Yet, no Venom? You know, the drug that Bane injects into himself to become...well, Bane. I guess he just has the fucking strength of Crocmaster, or some shit. And then he breaks his back...
He decides not to kill Batman and throws him in this hole with a bunch of other prisoners. Some random homeless guy punches his vertebrae into place and days later he's doing push ups and pull ups. If they're gonna pull some horseshit like this, than I'd rather see the Atom jump down his throat with his trusty medical bag and perform a proper surgery than this 5 minute montage. He makes a full recovery and meets up with Bane for round two. Now after the last ass-whooping, Batman all of a sudden grows a pair and gives it back to Bane in spades. Funny, I didn't see Mr. Miyagi in that fucking hole. Where did he all of a sudden become a bad-ass again?
Why not just bring back Ra's al Ghul? His daughter Talia was introduced and subsequently banged by the Batman. It was the perfect setup for the notion of their secret love-child, and FOURTH* Robin, Damian from the classic Son Of The Demon story. Which brings up the rookie cop Blake, whose legal name is revealed to be Robin. Ugh... Is that supposed to mean Tim Drake? The THIRD robin who was discovered by Batman stealing the Bat-mobile's hubcaps?? Don't remember him being in the GCPD. Besides, you can't fucking skip Dick Grayson. That's fucking sacrilegious! NIGHTWING RULES!!
And how about that overacting "Captain Foley" of GCPD. Could he have tried any harder to be an over-the-top dingbat?
3rd Movie Curse...
It was pretty to look at though.
* I don't count Stephanie Brown a.k.a. Spoiler as a Robin
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Have you ever heard a song that makes you cringe in embarrassment? I recently came across the song Brandon written and sung by Tommy Lee for his son from the 1997 Motley Crue album Generation Swine. I'm sure he loves his son and his heart was in the right place, but man...what were they thinking putting this on the album? I'm trying to picture Tommy coming out of the recording booth, a tear rolling down his cheek and Nikki Sixx saying "Dude...you nailed it, bro". I've played this so many times, losing my shit at the 1:38 mark. I'm walking around the apartment yelling at my wife, "BRANDON! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE HER! SHE IS YOOOOOUR MOM!!!"
Friday, December 7, 2012
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Let's use a 10 gallon wet vac to get rid of a massive pool of water! It also sounded like there was a hole in his hose. Shouldn't take you longer than a week. I'm sure you're getting paid by the hour. Not pictured is the other half of the flooded parking lot, the imminent storm clouds headed our way, and the flooded surrounding curbs from the clogged sewer drains where he's dumping his buckets.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Buzzfeed. It's 1 of 45 people you'd never believe existed. But, man...this was the first one and it was too hard for the other 44 contestants to compete! Oooh! That looks like it smarts!! The grates to the face are downright cringe-worthy...Thank goodness for the do-gooder!! What the Hell was she thinking?!? Check out the replay! She approaches like it ain't no thing, but a chicken wing! HaHa!!
Saturday, December 1, 2012
There have been a few occasions where I've shit in my pants. Once I was riding my bike on the eastside of Milwaukee and I had a shittack. I remember I was wearing umbros. What a mess... Another time I was outside working rock wall construction in the dead of winter and shit in my longjohns. I was able to use a nearby business's restroom and had to leave my underwear in their wastepaper basket. But, there was one instance in particular where it was just the catalyst of an entire day of shit. Here is the holiday tale of when I shit in my pants working at the mall...
My Mom had one of those kiosks where she sold this diet/energy pill called Metabolife. I don't think it exists anymore because it made some people's hearts explode or something. Anyways, she let me work there while I was finishing up my degree. It was a cold, snowy morning and I just entered the mall to open up the kiosk. I was out the night before drinking with friends, so it was no coincidence I was feeling a bit shitty . As I was walking past Cinnabon, I felt a fart come on deep from the pits of Mordor. I released the stink valve and it was one of those that was hot, like steam. But the heat didn't end there. It ended down my leg. I stopped immediately in my tracks. I thought of going to the restroom, but the damage was done. Only a full shower and change of clothes was going to help me. I got back in my car and drove straight to my parents place, as they were the closest place of refuge.
I ran into the house and explained to my Dad what happened. After a brief chuckle, he (having shit-his-pants himself) understood my situation completely and as I peeled off my soiled garments and jumped in the shower, went to fetch me a pair of his pantalones. I ended up leaving in a pair of tan corduroys about two inches too short in length. I hurried back to the mall, irritated to see a few people hovering like vultures waiting for me to open up.
The day sludged onward. It was like a week before Christmas, so the place was packed with idiots. In fact, Santa was in the same area as my kiosk and the line to sit on the old fart's lap was beginning to creep right past me. All I wanted was for the day to be over and to go home. I was still more than a little hungover and I looked like an idiot in my bright red Metabolife shirt and these tan, cord, high-waters. As I sat on my stool, my white socks could be seen floating far below, on top of my old-skool vans. Sitting there, looking like some kind of donker, I see the most popular girl from my high school class approaching in the distance. I tried to hide, by pretending to stock jars of diet pills, but it was to no avail. I hadn't seen her since graduation almost ten years past and today is the day to catch up. We make smalltalk, she gives me the once over and continues with her shopping, probably using our meeting as fodder for the next glory-days-gossip session.
That line for Santa was now so long it wrapped right around my entire kiosk and down the main hallway. Two of my cousins happened to be doing some last minute shopping and stopped by to say hello. They immediately started laughing at my pants. I recanted the day's happenings with them. There were so many people around me that I was actually confused when I felt something small and wet hit me in the back of the neck. I caught a whiff of rotten eggs and heard a snicker behind me. I'd had enough experience myself with stink-bombs in high school to know what happened. Anger coursed through me like spinach to Popeye. I turned in the direction I'd been hit and caught eye's with a couple teenagers trying to hide their amusement. Without thinking I screamed at the top of my lungs "FUCKING COCK SUCKER!!!" and grabbed one by the throat..."I'M TAKING YOU TO FUCKING SECURITY YOU FUCK!!". With my hand still on his throat, I slowly awoke from my haze of rage. I began to realize the reality of my surroundings and saw horrified parents covering their children's ears. My eyes followed the line all the way to Santa, who was shaking his head and looking at me with disgust. I realized everyone was staring at me and I loosened my grip and let go of the young punk. The kid who was in my grasp looked terrified, but his friend was laughing his ass off. "LOOK AT YOU! YOU LOOK LIKE YOU CAME FROM A TRAILER PARK!!". They both took off running, lost in the crowd. I actually snickered under my breath, because he was right. I looked like a fucking crazy redneck. My cousins were laughing too. I told the assholes to watch my kiosk and stomped away, high on adrenaline...head hung low in embarrassment.
Shitting in your pants is not the end of the world. From these experiences I've learned that it is the deal-breaker of excuses to get out of anything. In any situation, if you tell whoever is expecting you, "I shit in my pants", they are not going to expect to see you anytime soon. It's a no-questions-asked topic. One time I had one of those days I really didn't want to go in to the office, so I called up my boss and said "Hey, I was on the subway coming in to work and I shit in my pants". He said, "Alright, see you tomorrow". The worst after effect you'll receive is a little bit of ribbing from you're co-workers, but big deal...everyone shit's in their pants from time to time.