Improved billboard, from here.
Tag Archives: McDonald’s
(1000)(-493) Days of blogging.
500 posts. Plus 2. Then 5 more. That’s exciting. Shocking, too. Exciting and shocking. Reminds me of my last few marriages.
More random notes:
One: Christmas Eve, all by myself. Plenty of drink and food and a lot of DVDs piling up. And sleeping dogs. I was planning on watching an old movie I enjoyed entitled A Midwinter’s Tale, but I ended up watching it last week instead out of impatience…
from here.
It’s an old comedy from 1995, directed by Kenneth Branagh, going back to his bread and butter, of course: the bard.
It’s the story of a group of poor has been and would be and never was actors putting on a Christmas play in a drafty old church in a small English village. The play they pick, of course, is Hamlet, partially because it’s all the silly things one thinks of Shakespeare – men in tights yelling silly things at each other and then sword fighting – but also because it is the ultimate play, the ultimate endeavor of theatrical drama. And somewhere along the way they find themselves, some light within themselves that’s still burning bright. Of course.
It’s a minor film, but a likable one in my book. It’s 90s comedy and independent film making at it’s finest, also. Branagh is a capable director with a good eye for finding new angles within Shakespeare to reveal to an audience and the cast is tight and enjoyable. Especially Absolutely Fabulous‘ Julia Sawalha as the female lead.
Two: So, right, but I’ve already watched that. I’ve got some work to do but I want to squeeze a movie or two out of this night. I doubt It’s A Wonderful Life is on, though it should be, of course, and I’m actually a bit sick to death of X-mas already. In fact, you know what I’m in the mood for? A ghost story, or something like that. Something creepy. I wish there more adaptations (that were good) of Shirley Jackson’s novels. Sigh.
My choices are, and this is interesting, a South Korean horror film called A Tale Of Two Sisters or it’s American remake, The Uninvited? Granted, the traditional logic here is to watch the original first, especially when the remake is an American take on an Asian original, and I’ve heard good things about the South Korean film, but obviously I’ve never been excited enough to watch it before now.
Though, slight exception to the rule: I really did like Gore Verbinksi’s remake of The Ring. Not the most logical film, of course, but Verbinkski did a remarkable job at effectively capturing dread in the cinema, something that is a lot harder to do than one would think. Actually, previous only Roman Polanski and David Lynch have been truly good at it in my book.
Actually, you know what I really want to watch? The Others. That movie was brilliant.
Three: Speaking of the cinema and adaptations, a few posts ago I was talking about how I was worried that a remake of Home Alone would end with gun violence, and that actually got me thinking a bit…
I’m surprised it hasn’t made the leap to the movies yet, but could one effectively stage a version of Clifford The Big Red Dog series of kid’s books? Especially in this period of economic turmoil, could a family realistically afford to feed this furry monster? And, much like E.T., wouldn’t the government want to step in and take a look at this canine behemoth?
Maybe that’s the angle right there. In the first act, the family gets the puppy, and the little girl’s love causes it to grow to gargantuan sizes. Act two, the government shows up and steals the thing concurrently with the parents, already struggling to pay their bills and buy truckloads of dog food at a time, gets laid off.
Act three: I don’t know. Something to do with the family getting a reality TV show, a take on the Gosselins meets the Balloon boy and his family, and the giant dog escapes the government holding facility in Dreamland/Area 51 where they’re keeping him after peeing on a captured alien spaceship there, which looks like a fire hydrant to him. Jesus, that’s ridiculous, isn’t it? But it’d work. They’ll probably cast somebody like Breckin Meyer as the patriarch and Elizabeth Banks (who’s in the remake of A Tale Of Two Sisters, by the way) as the matriarch, and get somebody like Cuba Gooding, Jr. as the evil Army General who… well, you get the gist, right?
Four: Tomorrow, in the UK, they’re airing the penultimate episode of Doctor Who featuring David Tenant as the Doctor, “The End Of Time, part 1.”
How sad is it that this excites me more than most other Christmas-y things, right? I imagine that somewhere in the vicinity of 3 PM to 5 PM my time, I’ll be online, scouring to find where somebody will have no doubt uploaded it. Then, on New Year’s day, there’s “The End Of Time, part 2,” and after that, well, after that is when that weird looking fucker Matt Smith takes over. Well, Matt Smith and the lovely Karen Gillan too:
Five: I’d much rather watch a movie based on Clifford The Big Red Dog rather than Walter the Farting Dog. That poor creature. The covers of those books just make me sad.
Tell me that dog doesn’t look like he’s in incredible pain. Just try.
Six: This picture is just for you, Peanut St. Cosmo:
Seven: Hmm. Shit. How much chocolate is too much chocolate for a dog to eat? Fuck.
Eight: This picture is just for you, August Bravo, since I know that you’re in love with Morrissey:
from here.
Something to do with him working with Stella McCartney on a line of shoes with no leather in them. Speaking of living my life just fine without slaughtering animals…
Nine: In the last few weeks, two travesties of decency have been committed upon me: The first being that Burger King canceled their “Angry” line of burgers, which was really just pepper jack cheese, jalapenos, and some kind of spicy sauce on their regular burgers. But their angry tendercrisp chicken sandwich was like hot flavorful sex in my mouth and now… now it’s gone…
The following week I went into a McDonald’s and was informed that they cancelled the McSkillet burrito. What the shit? I calmly asked the employee working there. She has no clue and just shrugged. Also, she did not speak English. So the following day, I went to another McDonald’s and discovered the same thing. The McSkillet was gone. Sigh. It felt like a part of myself was gone with it.
It may be remarkably easy to give up fast food for the New Year, should I be foolish enough to even verbalize a resolution this year.
Ten: Also… well, also there’s nothing else. Nothing that can’t wait. Well, except for this:
And this:
Have a lovely Christmas Eve, regardless of your religion, your race, your sex, your situation, or how ugly you probably are. I hope you’re someplace safe and warm doing naughty things with someone you love, or care about, or at least know the first name of. And to all a good night!
Trash Talk.
Is it weird that whenever I end up in a fast food place, which I’m finding increasingly hard to do with an alarming frequency, I always see the sign on the trash can…
And think of this:
…which, of course, is from Michelangelo’s Creation Of Adam, the 1511 fresco that is one of the many images adorning the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, and illustrates the Book of Genesis.
Or the Flying Spaghetti Monster, whatever your brand of religion is.
Either way: It’s the hand of God touching the trash of the world. Or, rather, throwing it away. The Garden of Eden wasn’t a paradise, it was a compose pile! It was a recylcing bin! The refuse of humanity!
from here.
I know, I know, I need to get out more. Maybe not spend as much time with just myself and my thoughts. Believe me, you’re not the first to mention it. This is where all my thoughts tend to go:
And, only semi-related, the Burger King character still freaks me out…
I mean, right? Look at this guy.
After cars and cash, the next thing fly honeys dig in a guy is his Henry VIII apparel. This I know be truth.
Look at that. First he’s rubbing sun tan lotion on your girlfriend at the beach while you’re at work and then next thing you know…
You’re waking up to a big bad mistake. And he’s got his own cologne. Ugh. But I digress…
…to celebrity trash, it is! No, no, just kidding.
I’m fascinated by the idea of trash as art, such as the sculpture of Tim Noble and Sue Webster immediately above here, or Yuken Teruya’s trash art tree seen a little higher up, the refuse of humanity turned back into something of use or importance. The recycling of that which we used and no longer want into something that we not only want, but cherish. Who knows, maybe Michelangelo would be proud. Especially if it was all done in the name and glory of God. Or, at least of the Flying Spaghetti Monster.
I don’t want to sound like the Wes Bentley character in American Beauty, but it almost makes you want to look at trash slightly differently, right?
Well… maybe not. But food for thought, I hope.
“I pursued nature to her hiding places.”
from here.
“No Sense” from Moon Pix.
“It’s a marvelous night for a moondance.”
“Dancing in the moonlight.”
“Walking on the moon.”
“…from the cold sunlight that’s reflected off the moon…”
“The moon gazed on my midnight Eggan, while, with unrelaxed and breathless eagerness, I pursued nature to her hiding-places.”
-Mary Shelley, Frankenstein.
“The Moon aged 9 days,” taken by Joseph Turner with the Great Melbourne Telescope on Sept. 1, 1873. via here and here.
No more talking about the moon after tomorrow, I promise. Tomorrow’s the big/not so big finish.
Talk nerdy to me.
So when I returned from vacation the other day, tired and weary, dreading the return to work, I discovered some books waiting for me on my desk. Normally, this would be a great thing. I’m a big fan of books as a present for just about any occasion, along with knowledge, money, and sexual acts (for gratitude, naturally), but books is probably the most useful long term out of all of those, if you think about it realistically (and if you’re wondering what the worst gift you can give someone, it’s simple: a McDonald’s Arch card because that just says matter of factly that I hate you, get fat, and then die, please).
So there I am, looking at all these books, and excited. “Books, fuck yeah!” is what I believe I said. Then I saw the books, which were:
Nerd In Shining Armor.
Nerd Gone Wild.
Nerds Like It Hot.
Gone With The Nerd.
And last but not least, my favorite of the bad puns as titles, The Nerd Who Loved Me, all by an author named Vicki Lewis Thompson.
Apparently I need to go do some work on my image and what people around here think of me. Fuckers. But I’m also amazed that someone found a niche in the usual harlequin market of trashy romance novels for a little nerd lovin’. There’s two other books in the series that aren’t pictured above (nor were waiting for me), including My Nerdy Valentine and Talk Nerdy To Me.
But in actuality, this nerd thing being fetishized in such a manner kind of bothers, me probably the same as anytime a cute girl with glasses goes to bed with a guy and he tells her, “Leave them on.” Just… different. This idea of the nerd, this very Rick Moranis-esque/Revenge Of The Nerds type idea of the guy who looks like Rivers Cuomo and has shitty social skills and questionable hygiene and zero to no luck with girls is outdated and tired. Especially in a world where Rivers Cuomo is a rock star and probably gets a lot of action, when he’s not chasing down and being scary to Asian girls or going celibate. Or especially in a world where if you have enough cash then then, and let’s face it, you get whatever the fuck you want.
from here.
To me, as annoying as he was, Seth Cohen from The OC made a kind of sense, but that show Chuck or The Big Bang Theory doesn’t for the very same reason. Everywhere you go, there’ds nerds. Everyone’s a nerd these days. You’re probably sleeping with a nerd right now, or relishing in your own happy nerd tendencies. The idea of the nerd as a lonely outsider is ridiculous, and the eccentric, eclectic obsessive type is becoming far more prevalent these days in our society. In fact, the other day I was talking to this beautiful young woman I had just meant who told me she absolutely loved Quentin Tarantino and couldn’t wait for Inglorious Basterds. It took me a while to politely say that I didn’t want anybody in my life who was looking forward to another film from that guy.
This super nerd came up when I was google image searching a Sixteen Candles quote earlier.
My feelings on this subject are not easy to articulate or define, especially growing up pretty much as a nerd, but I’m glad to see that the nerds haven’t so much taken over, but they’ve gone corporate. It’s cool to be a nerd now, to an extent. Humanity’s getting faster and stupider, and they’re doing it in a nerdier style (it’s important to establish here that the word “nerd” doesn’t neccessarily connotate “smart”). And if there’s one thing that the nerds, the whatever the not-nerds call themselves, and the Irish all have in common, it’s alcohol, so…
Happy St. Patricks’ Day!
Foods Filled With Shame
Uncrustables
Virgin America offers Uncrustables on their in flight food menu. If you sit in first class or Main Cabin Select, which is a bootleg first class (no massage chairs), you can order as much food as you want for free. You could have dozens of Uncrustables! An Uncrustable is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with no crust, packaged together. It sticks to the roof of your mouth just like a normal Pb&j sandwich, but makes you feel exciting, unlike a normal pb&j.
2 out of 5 shame stars
Spam
A highly misunderstood food. I know people who would shove hundreds of dollars worth of blow up their noses who would refuse to eat this nitrite filled pink packet of delicsiouness. The best place in the world to eat spam is at Lucky Chances Casino in Colma, California. The 24 hour diner attached to the 24 hour card room serves up Spam with eggs and garlic fried rice. It is one of the most perfect food combinations you’ve ever seen. The card room is full of old Chinese people gambling away their SSI checks and the diner is full of people who use Xanga as a blogging platform. It’s worth it.
5 out of 5 stars (people really hate Spam)
Anything off a fast food dollar menu
We’ve all been there. We’ll all go back there again.
3 out of 5 stars
Celeste Pizza For One
Not only is it a frozen pizza, it’s a frozen pizza for ONE. It’s a frozen pizza of sadness that will likely be covered in tears and followed by a Nyquil chaser. However, the salt content is so high it will kill any possibility of a hang over and possibly your biological ability to have children.
2.5 out of 5 stars (their cheapness could override any guilt you feel for eating this)
A sandwich purchased at a drugstore
A far better investment would be diet pills.
4 out of 5 (walgreen’s is for buying plan b, not for sandwiches)
Foie gras
High end self loathing. A vulgar display of wealth and callousness. Foie gras is made by ducks being force fed grain so their livers can expand and a pate can be made of it, to be spread on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (as I’ve had it served to me once), stuffed between giant pieces of steak and smothered on baguette sandwiches. It’s not much worse than the harsh reality of factory farming in the US, but something about foie gras takes the creepiness of meat eating to an entirely other level.
5 out of 5 stars (prepare for any ethical people you know to despise you)
