skot AT izzlepfaff DOT com
Monday, 08 January
Are You There, God? It's Me, That Intolerable Griping Pud
Well, I have to say that 2007 so far has been a REAL PILE OF SHIT, people! Did I not demand not so long ago that the world needed to get better? Well, it hasn't. Stupid world.
Don't get me wrong. Nothing that horrible happened to me or anything. But there was a definite lack of awesomeness this weekend that frankly I resent. It's starting to piss me off.
For one thing, as we often do on Friday evenings, we rented a couple of horrible movies. My tens of faith-ish readers have long known about my near-fetish for appallingly bad movies, and so we figured we were in for a banner night with a double bill consisting of the remake of The Wicker Man and the screamy-meme-y Snakes on a Plane.
Snakes on a Plane featured things like a soon-to-be-dead chick with great big naked tits and a guy getting his dick bit by a reptile.
What does it say about The Wicker Man when I tell you that it could have been vastly improved by both of these things?
I never saw the original Wicker Man, but I am reliably informed that it featured all kinds of gratuitous nudity. WELL, NOT THE REMAKE, BUSTER! And the reason why is clear: director Neil LaBute, famous for such life-affirming works such as In the Company of Men, simply loathes people. All people. Only a colossal misanthrope could take a cult movie noted for its gratuitous nudity and remove all of it in favor of scenes with the ham-scented Nic Cage pointing a gun at a pagan on a bicycle, screaming "STEP AWAY FROM THE BIKE!"
You'll note that I didn't warn you about possible spoilers. That's because I don't want anyone to watch this movie. If you read that and got pissed off, thinking, Well, shit, I'm not going to watch that now, then good. Don't watch it! Nobody should watch it! Ever! It's fucking horrible! It will make you shit out your soul!
Here's another movie-ruining moment! You'll never believe who the Wicker Man is! It's Nic Cage! They burn him at the end! You can hardly see it coming, especially if you're dead or stupid or in a coma or have never once watched that VH1 show that counts down all those old horror movies and gives away all the endings anyway! You'll be shocked and stunned! Mostly at the incredibly laughable acting! Remember Vampire's Kiss? Compared to this film, Nic Cage was sleepwalking in that fucker!
Jesus fucking Christ. When they burned his stupid ass at the end, all the pagan chicks didn't even do that crazy-ass dancing. They just stood there and grinned. God.
Things didn't improve on Saturday when the wife and I went to, Lord help me, Target. (Look, don't ask.)
This required, for one thing, driving up to a section of town known as Northgate, home of the hideous and unspeakable Northgate Mall, which is where fun goes to die. I have it on good authority that at Northgate Mall, the Orange Julius outlet takes pride in pissing in each and every drink. They recently tried to spruce up the place for the holidays by putting in video monitors playing footage of three-legged dogs fucking, but the customers didn't respond well, and there was a nasty streak of suicides as a result. So now the monitors just display text messages like "WHY?" and "YOU ARE ALWAYS ALONE."
Across the street from this Gehenna is Target, and we joyously crawled up the clogged parking driveway, dodging hunted-looking customers and erratic cars before we finally found a parking place at the C3a1B level, darting into a space that was unfortunately occupied by a crack-smoking indigent; we crushed his pelvis against the wall. "YA CRUSHED MY JUNK!" he screamed, and I threw a traffic cone at his head as we locked the car, bip-bip! "Don't scratch our fender!" I yelled. He died moments later, causing a Target employee to rush out and staple a "FLOOR MODEL SALE" sign to his chest, and a minor bidding war broke out among onlookers who all wanted a discounted, slightly damaged, slightly dead junkie corpse at post-holiday prices.
Inside this horrendous place, row after row of denuded racks faced us, and blank-eyed shoppers pushed carts to and fro (and up and down--Target features a shopping cart-sized escalator, lest we consumers be forced to actually ever lift anything), loaded down with things like blister-packed six-packs of extension cords, blister-packed spousal battery complaints, blister-packed blister cream and blister-packed fake blisters. Near every checkout counter was a shocking pile of undifferentiated merchandise, all either returned, rejected or simply dumped incorrectly by some second-thought shopper, and the employees clambered over the heaping mounds of horrible crap like second-string Sherpas, calling to each other in their retail dialect: "Munchin' Purple pants 14! Three-oh!" "That's Joanie. Send it to teen humpwares."
After a long time, we got home. We of course immediately went to the nearest bar. "You guys aren't watching the Seahawks game?" asked our good bartender. "It's halftime," I said hollowly. "I really hope they do it this year . . . " he said, and I snapped, "Are you kidding?" I let him trail off into more feeble nonsense. We had two drinks apiece while I thought about how 2007 was really twisting my dick already. When we left, our bartender said, "Gonna go watch the fourth quarter, huh?" "Yeah," I replied gloomily.
Which we did. And you know what? That was pretty funny. I feel better already.
Note: Comments are closed on old entries.
Hey -- I usually lurk here in a creepy manner, but must break my cone of silence to ask---Did you watch the WICKER MAN "Alternate ending?"
WHAT WAS IT?
I can't bear to rent the DVD and see for myself. The commercials alone made me want to claw my eyes out...PLEASE tell me they didn't do an alternate ending where the pagans DON'T burn Nicholas Cage? Please tell me that in the alternate they burn him MORE or they burn him EXTRA or they somehow get Stallone in Rocky 27 in there with him and burn them both?
I always wondered what made those Orange Julius drinks so irresistible.
I always wondered what made those Orange Julius drinks so special.
Did you watch the WICKER MAN "Alternate ending?"
Nope! In all honesty, after impatiently clicking off the credits, I did look for the "Alternate Ending" link from the main menu. Nothing. Which means that the lousy bastards embedded it at the end of the movie, and there was no way I was going back to find that. IMDB doesn't even have a whisper about it, so I'm not the only one.
Ah, the sweet, sweet sounds of retail dialect. They have an especially maddening version of that dialect in the first ring of hell, also known as Kohl's.
And I've been looking all over town for a discounted, slightly damaged, slightly dead, junkie corpse. Target you say?
Hu Ha! get your scratch n dent junkie ONLINE at Target(soft g) dot com and receive a 10. giftcard after a 50. purchase. Added bonus, no parking or wretched humans to deal with.
My mother bought my daughter a copy of that 2nd Pirate Movie for Xmas. I'm sure she bought it at Walmart but I refuse to go there so I took it back to Tarché (like bon marché but you know, target plus the ché oh forget it). Same Tarché at Northgate.
So, of course, I had no receipt nor did I have the credit card number it was purchased with (hello big brother) so they could only do an exchange the sale price. Fine, no problem I expected that.
Whatever you exchange it for must be from the the video department. WTF? You can't just give me a card with the amount on it? Are you making this up? Fine, whatever that was the plan anyway.
You must come back to this exchange/return counter with the very long line to do the exchange. What? Are you insane?
We will keep the exchange receipt for you with your first name on it in anticipation of your return to the shitty returns counter? Fine, whatever, bitch, your store is obviously not Nordstrom but this is just plain poor organization.
1/2 hour later I return to that counter with our exchange item and a few other random things. We stand in line 15 minutes while all the regular checkout clerks twiddle their thumbs because, hey, no lines there!
Another clerk fetches our return receipt and tells me this counter is just for returns. I give him a glare and toss my other crap on the counter and he reluctantly shoves my other stuff into a used bag he picked up off the floor.
The bottom of the bag breaks the instant we get out the door.
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