Friday, April 18, 2008

Youth culture killed my dog

First things first: I need someone to explain Ghostland Observatory's popularity. Sure, they're the Pink Floyd of the electro-rock scene (this is a quick way for funny rock critic types to say that they use laser light shows, ha ha), and the guy has nice long braids (Brent thought he was a lady for most of the show) and it's nice to think that the guys in Suicide were right all those years ago. But jeez. Those screechy lyrics and those dull tunes. What the hells?

Onward. I went to the Chinese Olympic protests last week, and I had one nagging question: Who the hell invited the Wonderbread 5 to a Chinese themed party? Oh yeah, and when did "Smells Like Teen Spirit" become a party down good time anthem?

There were some great signs. Like this one, which I'm pretty sure was a joke. Ha ha.

I saw one fight. This elder white dude was arguing with a bunch of pro-China folks and one of them grabbed him, so he began shouting, "Chinese aggression! Chinese aggression!"

Oh boy, this guy's lucky the Beastie Boys weren't around to thrash him.

No matter which side you were on, your heart had to go out to this dude.

And there's always at least one guy who just makes no sense at all. Congrats, dude, you've offended everyone, including your own mom.

One last thing: Have you seen Priceless, the new Audrey Tatou comedy? It's hilarious! She plays a gold digger on the Riviera who matches wits with that guy from the Valet, who's just a regular broke shmoe who's in love with her. Mmm hmm.

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

What's your damage, Heather?

I've been on a big '80s movie kick lately. It's been interesting seeing which stand the test of time. Here's the verdict so far:

Some Kind of Wonderful: (A-) Mary Stuart Masterson is still intensely adorable as the tomboy with a crush on Eric Stoltz. That scene where they practice kissing is a classic. Docked points for the locker room scene, mainly because her boxers were far less alluring than I remembered them.

Heathers: (B-) You know, this doesn't play so well now. Kind of zippy for a while, but then Winona Ryder becomes pretty unbearable and Christian Slater's maniacal behavior kills the tone of the movie. Lots of famous lines, though.

Can't Buy Me Love: (A-) Formulaic, obvious, and full of hideous 80s fashions. But I'm a sucker for this crap, and seeing Patrick Dempsey as a lawnmowing geeks is priceless. Plus it's got a very young Seth Green as a pain in the ass younger brother, and what nerd didn't want to buy Amanda Peterson?

Reality Bites: (D) I never saw this back in the day, and Jesus now I see why. You have to feel badly for Winona (who here proves herself to be the worst fake-laugher ever), having to choose between awful yuppie Ben Stiller and whiny slacker Ethan Hawke. Only Janeane Garafolo survives -- boy, does she ever. Rarrr.

Say Anything: (A) Well, yeah, this still sits atop the heap of teenage romances. That John Cusack was born to play a kickboxing slacker love magnet. But all the supporting cast is amazing too, from creepy dad John Mahoney to twisted rocker Lili Taylor to the dreamy Ione Skye (who I just learned is now married to singer Ben Lee, wow). And that ending, when they wait for the ding on the plane, is one of the best ever.

Next up: Sixteen Candles.

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

World serious

So, I went to opening night at the Coliseum last night. It was awesome. The Red Sox won, and their fans weren't as obnoxious as usual. Everyone seemed in a really good mood, maybe because it was the very first game of the season. I went with Gabe and his girlfriend Amanda, who I found out works at the D**w School, where I DJed that dance party. Nice folks, and she asks more questions than anyone I've ever met.

But then, when we were leaving, they had to go and spoil it. I mean the guys in the regulation jerseys. Have they no shame at all? A regulation jersey, fine; a t-shirt with your team's name on it, okay. But a shirt with the name and number of an actual player on it? How old are you, eight?

It's always these guys that get drunk and take out their frustration with the outcome of the game by yelling at another guy in a similar shirt. It goes something like this (I swear, this is all true):

Guy in A's/Buck jersey: Beckett, he sucks!
Guy in Sox/Beckett jersey: World series champs!
A's: Patriots, 18-1. (See, here he's so flummoxed by his own team's lameness that he's switched sports.)
Guy: Two rings in four years. (Back to baseball.)
A's: 18-1, 18-1! (Sensing a sore spot.)
Guy: What's that? What? (Feigning a lack of hearing.)
A's: Patriots suck!

This is probably the same guy who started the "Sox suck!" chant in the seventh inning, when the Sox were beating his team 2-1. If they suck, then what do the A's do? Suck and blow? Yeesh.