Monday, August 30, 2010

My Monday Muse

[Dis has been an artarded month in the bloggy world of Josh Is Trashy. I've had some of my highest view numberz in months, but also recently some of mah lowest. WHAT THE FUZZ?! But regardless of whether peepz are still finding me personally innnnneresting & hilarz, I can be rest-assured that the Monday Muses for August 2010 have been some of the most popular to ever have graced the beginning of the work week! So try not and aneurysm all over your keyboard, and scroll to the bottom to vote for you August favorito!]

Taffy the Dawg I'm not really a dawg person. I often find the smaller dogz to be annoying and yippy, the bigger dogz to be life-threatening and ugly and the normal size dogz to be boring. Aside from dachshunds (quite possible the cutest thing this side of the Stefani-Rossdale chillunz), I can't stand caninez!

Yes, I'm a cat person...blah blah...whatever. But after dis week's Monday Muse, my opinion of pupperoniz has been barely shifted out of the realm of complete disgust been refurbished! Please partake of the world's finest exxxample of "man's best amigo":

What makes a 14 year-old grrrl happier than anything else in the world (not counting the fanciful dreamz of Skyping wiff a shirtless Justin BeerBaby)?! A NOISY EFFING DOG...DUH! And Taffy is for def def defferz the grand marshal of the Barkoholics Anonymous Parade!

Not only does this "super family pet" have a lot of important thingz to say [aka it's possessed by the devil], but it's also wildly affecionate! Just look @ how it kisses the teen daughter [read as: mauls her existence] @ :49.

And we all know that when that hot mess cholita from nexxxt door says she would like to "kill the dog," we all know she means "feed it an infinite # of derrrrrriciouz Beggin' Strips." That old bag is just playing hard-to-get, cuz let's be serial, there's nothing more unbelievably irritating and cacophonous charmingly adorable than Taffy. Well, maybe Adam Lamebert, but he doesn't eat his own shit, his voice just soundz like it.


Who is your Monday Muse of August 2010?!

El Diablo?
Marcel the Shell?
or this week's Taffy the Dawg?

Saturday, August 28, 2010

To tell you the truth, I'm always waiting.

New music, movies, many cosas nuevaz have been infiltrating mah life as of late!

I'm a pop culture junkie. You know dis. I know dis. The entire mundo knowz dis. And it's because of this that, as I have mentioned earlier, I like to keep up to date on all of mah favo stars' going-onz and be fully learned in all of their upcoming activities. So therefor, it should be no surprise that dis past Tuesday I was foaming @ the mouf for one reason & one reason only...


One of mah EVERYONE'S favo popstarz, Katy Perry, decided to bless the world wiff another fantastico batch of pop music euphoria and release her new disc Teenage Dream. I have been waiting (and stowing away a Best Buy Reward Zone coupon!) for months for this glorious day of release and when it finally came, I pretty much was an exciterbiking nervous wreck!

Everyone in the world knowz how great "California Gurls" is and with her new single "Teenage Dream" already the #3 song in America after just four weeks, this is truly the summer of K. Perry. I think we all owe her a collective round o' applause to thank her for making our livez so much better!

But anyway, after work on Tuesday, I screamed like a blood-thirsty lunatic all the day to the Best Buy in Manhattan to purchase the album. When I got there, I was happy to see that the store had rightly so anticipated big opening day numberz:

(and she's stocked in good company too!)

Good thing too! While I stood in front of the albums, holding a copy and savoring this much-anticpated climatic moment of mah life (also in an attempt to lure any passerbys to check out the album), three different d00dz came up and took a copy! Yay! And even better, the disco compacto was only $7.99! FUCK YES. There was also a deluxe version that came with a pair of boxxxer shorts, but since I HATE boxers, I passed.

Since the one album was under the $10 amount of mah coupon, I also picked up a copy of Florence + the Machine's album, Lungs (it came highly recommended). That album was only like $ let's do the hateful math, shall we?:

Both albumz are amazing and Katy's actually smells like cotton candy [read as: like sickeningly sweet Smarties]! I already know that they are destined to become two of mah top favz of the year and that I will want Katy's "Hummingbird Heartbeat" to play @ mah wedding while Florence + the Machine's "Dog Days Are Over" will play @ mah funeral.


But it wasn't just Miz Katy's new album that I've been anxiously anticipating! I grew up with two sisterz y una madre who were absolutely OBSESSED wiff all things Stephen King. I don't think there is a word that man has written that at least one of my family memberz haven't read. And while my illiterate azz has never really delved into King's literary abyss, I have been exxxposed to all the peliculaz based off of his werdingz!

It gang-raped my life with fear, The Shining forever damaged my psyche, The Stand made me perpetually anticipate the apocalypse while Cujo made me weary of dawgz and Firestarter scarred me with an unwavering distrust of Drew Barrywhore.

But one of his short storiez/bookz, The Mist was given the big screen adaptation and though the trailerz were clever and the leading guy was a sexxxerskate pepaw, I never saw it in theatres! I'm such a dumbo!

So I decided to get in on Netflix, but since it took me prox 561 months to finish every episode of Daria, I didn't receive The Mist until last week. Just to toy con mi emotions, the last person to have the disc decided to Etch-a-Sketch some cartoons into the DVD, forcing me to return it and await another. But FINALLY, last week, a functioning disc was grandslammed into my mailbox.

And WHAT. THE FUCK??? For serial, WTF?!? Anyone who has witnessed the film knowz exactly why my heart and brain both simultaneously seized and crumbled into a depressing pile of dustz. It's about a mist (durhz) that covers a town and a bunch of peepz are trapped in a grocery store while some crazzzy shit happens outside. The movie starts out a horror thriller and turnz into a modern day adaptation of Lord of the Flies...blah blah blah...but what happenz just 10 minutes after diz photo...

...basically suckerpunched my stomach so hard that I was gapping-jawed staring at the TV. The last shred of hope for humanity that laid cowering in my cerebrum fucking packed his bagz and peaced the shit out of my skull.

Depresso espresso mania. Watch @ your own effing risk.


But I don't spend all of my time rotting my brain with pop music's sugary sweetness or pumping my mind wiff terrifying depictions of apocalyptic destruction. Sometimes I read! For the past two yearz, every time I perused Barnes and/or Noble, I'd see the following book sitting out on the "notable releaserz" table...

The cover captured my heart, as did the blatantly confessional title! I LURRRVE simplicity, and if I ever become talented and write a book, I'm totez stealing dis cover and using the same font and same fun citrus color.

Anyway, I've seen this book a bajillion timez in the past but since I am the stingiest person alive and am constantly in fear of losing all mah $$ and being homeless, I never bought it. But last week I remembered that Chris D. was generous enough to launch a B&N gift card in my direction for mah birfday earlier this year! So needless to say, I purchased the book and finally held it's poetic prose and melancholy humor in my mittz @ long last!

I totez think that Miranda July (best name ever?) & her short stories could very well weasel their way into a creative writing syllabus as an example of modern day short story construction. Sad, but funny. Moving, but not exhausting. Her stories frolic down a thin line of emotion that never becomes lackluster nor overbearing. They're just right! Plus, look how devastatingly artistic (read as: Brooklyn hipsterish) she looks in her author pic:


What about YOU folkz? Has there ever been an album, movie, book, video game, sporting event, lecture, rectal exam, etc. that you waited & waited & WAITED for? How effing awesomecopterz was it when you finally got it?!

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

More Than a Woman

I did this last year, but I feel compelled to post another remembrance post to honor one of mah favo singaz ever who was unfairly pulled from my pop-addicted life 9 añoz ago. If you're so inclined, please take a momento of silencio por favor and send a kind thought to the heavenly majesty of the one and only Aaliyah!

For those of you weren't lucky enough to have had your earz beautifully embraced by the song stylingz of dis R&B visionary, lemme esssplain why she is sooooOoOoOo importante. Modern R&B was largely a secular genre throughout the 80s & 90s that was kept penned to urban radio stationz and had little luck breaking into the pop radio format (bored/confused yet?).

Sure, artistz like En Vogue or Janet Jackson were able to transcend deez boundaries, but they were the rare four-leaf cloverz of the bunch. But then in 1994, we were all introduced to sumfing special...and the music world would never effing be the same!

Aaliyah, who was only 15, recorded and released her debut album, Age Ain't Nothing But a Number, and it spawned a whole bunch of crossover hitz. She wasn't afraid to take her angelic R&B voice and hook it up with a more mainstream, poppy/dancey song structure. And the rest is supa serial history! Aaliyah was nominated for Grammys, won Video Music Awards, went to #1 in the Billboard Hot 100 wiff her inescapable "Try Again" and starred in two moviez!

If it wasn't for Aaliyah, current R&B princesses Mya, Monica, Rihanna, Ciara, Rhonetta, Brandy, Ashanti, Tweet & Christina Milian, would still be spinning their wheels in voice lessonz!


Monday, August 23, 2010

My Monday Muse

Marcel the Shell

Shellz are kinda lame. go to the beach, stab your feet into bloody chunks with the jagged shards that jut outta da sand, and then you collect a bunch of dirty pieces and tell everyone how you're gonna make some wIcKeD JeWELrY with them, when in actuality you just put those cursed slabs of crustacean mediocrity into your beach bag where they sit for yearsuntil they are eventually crushed up into sea dust.

But then came along this weeks Monday Muse and mah opinion has changed. Exxxoskeletons will never be the same again...

Cutest thing eva? Quite possiblez! Almost makez you wish you were tiny enough to wear a lentil as a hat and ski about on toenails from a male, right?!

Sure, you won't be able to pick up crayonz and it would take your entire family to pen a salad party invitation to your friendz, but the delicate & fragile whining of your voice MORE than makez up for it!

Hang-gliding via Doritos? A dog made of lint? A raisin chair? All cheaper than the big fat human alternative!!! Who knew having one eye and no body could be so exciting!? Take my advice though and stay away from diamonds, brushes and soda (all deadly), and your life will a magically land of shrunken deeeeeelitez!

[P to da S: Kudoz to my amazin'skatez agent, Michelle, for hurling this sweet little niblet of adorableness into my gob!]

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Q+A! - If...If...If...

Remember dis book that Polt gave me a couple of monthz ago?! Wellz, I thought it was high-time we filled out another little questionnaire and got to know each other a touch better! And is there any way to get to know the ins and/or outz of someone's cabeza than by thrusting a buttload of "If..."-style preguntaz their way?! Let's revel in hypothetical majesty!

If you could change anything in the world...

I would make people less wasteful! I absolutely can't stand seeing peepz throw schtuff away (hence my inability to get rid of anything). Half-eaten food is the most obvious victim of this offense, and whenever I see friendz start to throw out any of their meal, I launch my tongue at their leftovers and rescue them from the garbage! Classy? No. But I am scoring free eatz saving da world!

If you had a plane ticket to anywhere in the world, you would visit...

I'd visit the nearest computer, go onto Ebay and sell my plane ticket for money and finally be able to buy groceriez! But if for some reason I didn't ever need to eat again, I'd fly my azz somewhere close and faux-exxxotic like Costa Rica so I could burn the shet outta my flesh, drown, get eaten my savagez/bugz and then make all mis amigoz jellerz when I tell them how amazing it was.

If you could visit any time period, you would choose...

I would visit the birthing period for confessionalist poetry in the 50s-60s, where I would lead numerous workshops featuring the likes of brilliant writerz Anne Sexton, Enrico Bruno, Sylvia Plath & W.D. Snodgrass!

If you could, you would spend time with one famous person...

This is a toughie, considering I have a list of celebrities I lurrrve that exceeds the list of people I actually know that I lurrrve, so if I had to pick one, I guess I'ma go all nostalgic on you bloggy peepz and pick an adolescent hero of mine...Rob Thomas! Mr. Thomas & his band Matchbox Twenty were my absolutely favo band when I was a teen and I remember countless nightz of falling asleep to their tragically written lyrics and beautifully composed songs!

A lot of mah teenage poetry was copied from inspired by the wordingz of Rob Thomas himself, so I'd love to sit down with him and discuss the finer points of writing and emoting [read as: desperately shower him in complimentz until I completely embarrass myself].

If you were in prison, you would spend your time...

God forbid I ever end up in prison, but if I did, I think I would just be raped a whole lot and cry handle the experience gracefully.

To keep myself busy, I'd do several things. I'd try and boost my morale by putting on song and dance numberz reflecting on my current situation.

When that wouldn't work to raise my spirits, I'd spend nearly 20 damn yearz trying to tunnel my way out of my cell via the craptastico sewer line.

When I got mad bored doing all that digging, I'd probably just sit around and wait for the day when I could cheerfully count the stepz to my impending execution while fruitfully frolicking through the prison with the greatest of ease.


Now it's your turn, amigoz! Let me suck a little more personal information outta your skullz!

Thursday, August 19, 2010

If you're looking for a show, they go hardxxxcore.

I love pop music. It brings more joy to my life than nearly anything else, and while there are many cold-hearted snakes out in da mundo who don't listen to (or don't admit to listening to) pop music, I wave my gaypop pride flag high!

So it should come as no surprise that last night I had the privilege of seeing two of today's brightest and most chartacular starz...

...Ke$ha & Rihanna!!

One of my two high school friends that I still talk to high school friendz Laura was my date for the event and since she currently livez in Philadelphia for school, I chillaxed wiff her until the show across the river in Camden, NJ.

Yes, you heard me right...FATHEREFFING CAMDEN! As any person who values their life should know, Camden is known to be the most dangerous city in America. Statistix say that every five seconds in Camden, someone is murdered, raped, mugged and auto-jacked all @ the same time...or sumfing like dat. But as we also all know, nuffin' getz between moi and my pop starletts, so I threw caution [read as: common sense] to the wind and pranced on down to certain doom.

But before I get to da concert, lemme backtrack to the truly thrilling recap of what Laura and I did prior to becoming Ke$hafied. Having just moved into a new apartment, Laura was exxxciterbiked to show me her latest stomping ground. And while her living space is fantastico, I was more captivated by what lay across the street...

Neither of us were sure as to what the hell goes on in THE PAIN CENTER, but I think it's reasonable to assume that it's a torture chamber for a-holez like Ann Coulter, where peepz are forced to give a tonguebath to dis d00d while the Black Eyed Peas' "I Gotta Feeling" playz on infinite repeat.

After we cowered in fear over this ponderous terror, we decided that it would be smart to chow down on some comida before the show. We'd need all the energy we could get! We decided to make several strong alcoholic beveragez quesadillaz para cena! MMMMM.

After we shared one 'dilla (hey, we gotta stay glamorously emaciated!), we were off! We rode the PATCO train from Philly into Hades Camden. When we got off, we walked past this seemingly abandoned murder factory, were kidnapped by thugz, punched in the nose and then escaped and ran to the concert.

When we finally got to the concert, we took note of the crowd and were able to effectively label the demographic majority for a pop concert fiesta: Desperate slutty white grrrlz [feat. miserable boyfriendz].

We entered the open-air arena right when the trashy ho goddess of mah life Ke$ha hit the stage, and while sprinting to our seats, I came across two concert-goers who were pretty, smart, intelligent and perfect [aka they like the same music I do]:

Then we trampled them to death cuz they were in our way. When we got to our seatz, Ke$ha had just started "Party At a Rich Dude's House." Of course I lost mah mind and sang every word to every song and glared at all the ugly & boring peepz who weren't dancing.

Since Ke$ha must have read my Twitter and known I was @ the show, she sang some of mah favo songz!: "Stephen," "D.I.N.O.$.A.U.R." & "Your Love Is My Drug"! She was fantastic and YES, she actually did sing. There was glitter (in the air), costumes, gooftastic dancing and severed mannequin heads. Basically, I was in heaven.

Check out two performance videoz I hijacked off of YouTube:

After we imploded with delight and reassembled our joyously jumbled brainz back togethz, Laura and I decided that our bladders needed some leaking. We went to the bathroomz and I got in and out in two minutes flat:

However, the ladies room was a totez different story...I waited for Laura to emerge from dis mess for prox 12 hourz:

Finally she got out and we decided that during the redic long wait for Rihanna to get her azz out on stage, we'd take a gander at all the merchandise. Since the poorly made T-Shirts were overpriced [aka not free], we took a picture of them instead!:

Then we thought we might need to get drunk to get through some of Rihanna's crappier songz, but when we got to the bar and realized we weren't millionairez, we decided to stay sober and tough it out.

So we went back to our seats and proceeded to whine, bitch and complain for a whole hour until Rihanna decided to come out. Now, Rihanna kind of doesn't exist to me. Sure, she's had some songz that I liked, and some that I didn't, but my opinion of her is very average and unwavering. But of course I wanted to see her sing her two biggest hits, "Rude Boy" & "Umbrella." The former was the third song she sang, but of course the latter was the encore, so I had to sit through all sortz of boring non-singlez and mediocre versionz of her less-than-stellar songz.

She apparently hatez peace and happiness, cuz her entire set was comprised of phallic artillery and animated cartoon grenadez. She also was decked out in some hideouz C-rate Lady GaGogglez buffoon costumez that were complicated and ugly.

But finally, she sang "Umbrella" and me and every person there made sure our "ella, ella, ella, ey, ey, ey"s could be heard from milez around. Then some peepz actually busted out their umbrellas and started wielding them like weapons and swiping them through the air. One such artard enthusiastic individual was a soccer mom seated next to me. Here I am fearing for my life:

Even though Rihanna isn't necessarily my cup o' tea, it was still a good concert and I am so ooooo jazzercised that I got to see Ke$ha! I'm proud to say that I am now and forever one of Lady Gaga's "little monsters" Ke$ha's "animals"! ROOOOOOAAAAR!

Monday, August 16, 2010

My Monday Muse

El Diablo

Who doesn't like to be spookafied?! A playful scare can really be the cure to all of life's troubles. But throw in some big belty diva impersonations, and you might have just found the universal cure for da cancerz!

I know Enrico & I constantly confuse everrrrybody when we proclaim "I can't wait to be dragged to hell!" but think about it after watching dis herre video. If all of Satan's demonz were as fabo and funky fresh as dis sexxxy [read as: rotting] mamacita (or cholo?), then I think we'd all throw our st00pid bodies into Lucifer's scalding embrace in prox two secondz flat!

There is some serial live action Nightmare Before Christmas shiz goin' on! I hope you emptied your pee pouch before watching, or else you may have ended up in a puddle of lemerladez!

Such elegance & poise can only truly be acquired through yearz & yearz centuriez & centuriez of practice, and I believe we owe a round of applause to this inferno-grown diva extraordinaire for opening our eyez to what true beauty is! Watching her perform actually does make me feel like a million dollar bill!

Don't act a foo' and pretend that you're not completely and utterly jellerz of dis ho's grunge weave and death eyez! And that belch growl...TO. DIE. FOR. I don't think Whitney could have done better, though she too can be quite the terrifying monsta.

Now everyone, let's close dis herre entry and raise our bloodied axxxez and salute the new source of all your night terrorz queen of your dreamz! She most definitely will drag me to hell, and I can't fudging wait!

Saturday, August 14, 2010

This is my stop, got to get off.

Being a teenager was Shitsville and anyone that says they went through their adolescence completely unscathed and totally well-adjusted is a lying fool who should be punched repeatedly in the nose with Lindsay Lohan's coke taint. It's a time of suffering and social cruelty and crying oneself to sleep while repeatedly listening to Michelle Branch's "Goodbye To You" cuz some goofball d00d that you're majorly jonsing for has little-to-no idea you even exist naively crushing on guys that turned out to be not that fine after all. yeah, you make friendz and learn a bunch of crap and start to figure out who you are as a person and blah blah...but when it comes down to it, high school is like being dragged to hell in the most NON-GOOD way possible. It sucked so much that I'd really rather have had to go to a Barbara Streisand, Barry Manilow & Black Eyed Peas collabo concert while having Lady GaGogglez' puss tattooed on my forehead and my toes tickled by whatever the fuck this thing is.

I especially remember despising the organized torture that was Physical Education and how awful I constantly felt when I'd a) awkwardly have to change in the locker room; b) get picked last for the dodgeball teams; c) have everyone gang up on my pathetic azz and pummel me to the floor with those goddamn rubber balls that always stung like a bitch; and d) have to relive the torment just a minute later, back in the locker room, when all the guys would then retell the embarrassing beating I endured as though it didn't just happen five minutes prior.

But though it sucked, I still got through it and it wasn't as tumultuous for me as it was for the really smart brainy kids or the desperately unpretty wannabe chicas who were routinely berated for simply existing. And whenever timez got too hard, I'd simply talk to my therapist sit my crotch down on the sofa, turn on the bewb tube and empathize with my favorite cartoon character of all time...


Finally, God decided to stop being a prick and he answered the prayers of me and thousands of other peepz, and finally forced MTV to finally release the complete series of Daria on DVD. To those sad, unfortunate souls who are unaware of Daria's greatness, lemme essssplain.

For basix, Daria is a teenage misfit that is smarter than Einstein, socially artarded and more or less shunned by a terribly unforgiving world of idiots. Da show chronicles her day-to-day life dealing with her dumbo peers, obsessive padres and superficial sista.

Not only was Daria constantly feeling out of place in her surroundings, but she also acted a bitch on everyone around her and introduced me to the beauty of the well-timed sassy comeback, a practice I am still working on perfecting myself.

So while I go burn my high school yearbook and think back on how anti-climatic prom was, go HERE (damn effing disabled embedding code) and partake of Daria's limitless wisdom.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

My Musical ABCs - E!

Time for round five! Can you believe we're only @ letter E on our musical adventure through the fabo alphabet? Everyone, enter your exquisitely entertaining & elegantly elected entries for your favo songs that begin wiff Miss E!

"Extraordinary Machine"
Fiona Apple

"If there was a better way to go, then it would find me."

Fiona Apple was that mamacita loca that was a rude bitch at the MTV Video Music Awards when she won Best New Artist and went on a rant about how the world is bullshiz. She released a bunch of critically acclaimed albums and was generally known as the terrifying & (possibly) food-deprived female singer-songwriter wiff demon eyes that was in a war with her record company for yearz over releasing her much-anticipated third album.

But the album got released, was nominated for a Grammy, and was home to one song in partix that became mah personal therapist when I went through a DrAmAtIc CrIsiS a few años back.

Basically, a year y media ago, I had my insidez turned to lava and my corazon beaten and burned to ashes by a certain someone that I had been in a relationshit with. I became a huge depresso espresso that self-exiled mahself from the world and cried myself to the brink of insanity multiple times (I hope you read dis, you meanie!). Then mi amiga mejor, Christina, introduced me to "Extraordinary Machine" by F. Apple, and I found myself suddenly empowered and freaked out by the close proximity it had to my situation!

I think everrrrybody needs a song like dis in their life; a "fuck dat douche for breaking mah heart, I can survive on my own and am a stronger bitch now that I'm wiffout hiz broke azz"-kinda song. And for me, dis is it!

"Eustace" by This Day & Age
"Existentialism On Prom Night" by Straylight Run
"Echo" by
"Evacuate the Dancefloor" by Cascada

Monday, August 9, 2010

My Monday Muse


Music critics snobz around the world constantly feel obligated to diarrhea dump all ova modern day popular music, claiming a lack of talent and artistic vision in musicians of today. Whenever I overhear some peepz ripping on modern day pop starlet visionaries like Mariah Carey, Christina Aguilera & Whitney Houston Ke$ha, Britney Spears & JoJo, I automatically roll my eyez till they pop outta my head and explode in a glittery fire of frustrated annoyance. To hate on the dancytime divas of mah generation is to hate on fun, happiness, youth, love, Jeebuz, the world, cute baby animals and everything else that is beautiful and elegant in the world.

And that's why I am using this week's Monday Muse to highlight what really makes modern day music so addictive: Unwavering determination Strong vocal chords Great production value AUTO-TUNE! Check out these prime examples of auto-tune gone GOOD:

Charlie Bit Me (That Really Hurt Showdown Fiesta Mix)

Sure...Charlie Bit Me took da interwebz by storm and kept the world [read as: my friends and I] fully entertained for months and months! But the only thing better than adorable chillunz and their equally delightful antix is...anything AN AUTO-TUNED REMIX! Watch your pubertyless ass, Justin Bieber, these kidz got their sights on you.

Billy Mays Here! (Candlelight Ballad Remix) [feat. Scatman]

Remember how hard we all cried when Billy Mays ascended to the great pointless infomercial in the sky? I know that I didn't leave my house for weeks (or minutes)! But now, through the magic of YouTube y Auto-Tune, Mr. Mays will forever remain firmly implanted in our psyches.

Bed Intruder Song

So I know dis is probz old news by now (geebz...the interwebbing world is eVeR-ChAnGinG!), but I thought I'd enlighten the few of you who have yet to experience the glory of the one & only Antoine Dodson. Mr. Dodson saved his sista from being forcibly entered by a garbage can-climbin' thug and thus became the greatest person to ever exist or sumfing. I tink that wiff just this one track, Antoine has single-handedly murdered the careers of heavy-hitter male R&B heavyweights T-Pain, Ne-Yo, Chris Brown, Soulja Boy Tell'Em & Fergie. God bless ya, sir. Yes, I will run and tell that.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

Based on the novel...

I was an English major in college, and while I try to avoid the cliches that tag along with being "well-read" [aka being a pompous know-it-all douche that everyone sucks up to in person, but talkz shit about behind their back], I must admit that there is one collegiate prick instinct of mine that I can't seem to shed, and that's an automatic hatred for any movies based on books that I have previously read.

I get it...adaptations are supposed to bring the book "to life" and open it up to a wide audience of dumboz that don't like to read. And sometimes, it's successful [see: To Kill a Mockingbird, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest & PRECIOUS], but most of the time, silver screen manipulations turn out to be either terribly disjointed (A Home At the End of the World), bizarrely adapted (James and the Giant Peach), utterly pointless (He's Just Not That Into You) or simply unable to handle the girth of its material (Les Miserables).

The chorus of people shouting "the book was better" upon leaving such a film is deafening but not surprising. And I was all prepared to vomit out the same phrase upon finishing Running With Scissors. For those who are illiterate and/or hatez fun, Running With Scissors is a memoir written by Augusten Burroughs that catalogs his effed-up childhood [feat. nomadic lifestyle, underage drinkerz, sexxx, constant bitchery & a mentally unstable mother]. Everyone who readz the book lurrrvez it and it's honest and touching, but still mad hilarz and clever. All & all, great read and thus why my shingles shook when I got the movie adaptation in the mail last week.

Conclusion?! The movie was decent. Annette Bening is perfect @ playing distraught mother figurez (American Beauty much?) and the lead guy kid seems talented enough, though I only know him as that guy that Emile Hirsch gave a beej to in Milk.

Also, the guy that played Augusten's pedophile lover boyfriend in the movie is some hot piece named Joseph Fiennes who made the deranged and obsessed character of Bookman just as intriguing and oddly sexxxy as I thought he was in the book. Weird that I find a pedo [feat. terrible facial hair] attractive?

But the movie left out some of mah favorite scenes [aka when Augusten and Natalie eat lobsters barefoot!] and I felt that the book was way too lengthy with way too many dynamic characters to effectively do it justice via big screen exploitation. Well, not unless they made it a TV miniseries (do peepz actually watch those, though?) or strung it out over several movies (that shit only works for Lord Of the Rings).

What a transition or not? Hmmm...I'ma stick with Mr. Salinger on this and opt for the idea that most books should remain only books. Although, I would give an arm & a leg a pinkie toe to see a The Truth About Diamonds movie. LOVEZ DAT IDEA!


What about you folkz? Ever have one of your libros favoritos murdered by movie producers? Ever been enlightened to a book via it's big screen success? Do you not give a h00t either way? Are you illiterate?

Monday, August 2, 2010


Hey folks, I need to take a few days to get my head on straight. More fun times will come in the future, I promise.

I'll keep you locked in my head, until we meet again.
I won't forget you, my friend

(It took nearly 4 years, but now I finally understand the meaning of this song. And I really wish I didn't.)