Cryogenically-Frozen Chicken

When I think about you, I MasturDate?

I took myself to a movie last night. Masturdation, yay!? Yeah, no. You’d think this would be cause for celebration. Alas, no, for I watched a “film” that I never intended to see. One of those where you see a teensy snippet of a preview, and you go…”That looks stupid as fuck.” You scornfully scoff at the screen, because your cinematic tastes are far too refined for such drivel. So why, pray-tell, did I take myself out to see Passengers?

Even the poster is lame. Oh. Yay. I can’t wait to gleefully sit through two hours of this movie now that I’ve been pseudo-intensely stared at by the headshots of these two. Where do I sign up?

The Build-Up

Why. The Fuck. Would I do this to myself? I’ll tell you why. One of my besties (yes, I said “besties,” because I’m pretty sure it will annoy the shit out of him) is a bully. That’s right. The author of stupidityhole bullied me into going to see this “film.” You see, he wanted me to be enlightened by the…no. I just snorted. No. I can’t even finish that sentence. He wanted me to share in his misery about this film, because that’s how bullies behave!

I wasn’t gonna do it. No. Fucking. Way. I’ve been wanting to take myself to a movie, but not this…this thing.

I refused. I outright refused.

And then he said the three magic words. You guessed it. “Cryognically-frozen chicken.” Motherfuck. I was undone, and he knew it. He refused to tell me what that meant. I’d simply have to see the film now in order to understand that. So. Over the course of, I dunno…a couple days. (He says it was more like an hour. Pfft.) He tormented me by randomly blurting out, “cryogenically-frozen chicken”…or…”ice-cold bock-bock if you prefer.”

And I caved. WHO WOULDN’T?! I had to know what the fuck he was on about. Look, I’m weak, okay? I mean. What the fuck is he talking about?! ARE THERE CHICKENS IN CRYO-CHAMBERS?! WILL THEY FROLIC AROUND IN SPACE?! IS THIS A MOVIE ABOUT SPACE-CHICKENS?! OHMYFUCK I’VE SEEN THE FUTURE, AND IT’S CRYOGENICALLY-FROZEN CHICKEN! Fucking hell. This is what happened to my brain after being bullied for days. Weeks. Months. (Maybe two hours.)

So I acquiesced: I’d see the “film.” I’d resist the urge(s) to walk out before it was over. And I’d sit through at least forty-five seconds of the end-credits. I already knew, going in, that this was probably all some big trick. One of the many schemes I’m subjected to on the regular.

In Dreams become…

Two or three days ago. Maybe last week. Look, we already know I’m shit with time, okay? At some point in the not-so-distant past, I even dreamed about this shit.

In the dream, I saw the damn cryobock movie and never understood the cryochicken reference. I panicked. In the dream. Because I knew what this would mean. That shit would make me watch it again!

Also in the dream, Laurence Fishburne looked just like his Morpheus character from The Matrix and simply wandered around, shaking his head and muttering “damn” at random, unexpected intervals. (We can also blame this one on stupidityhole, who told me “Morpheus is in the movie. And he says, “damn.” Now you have to see it.”) (What is wrong with me?)

At another point in the dream, Laurence Fishburne was actually more like HAL in 2001. And all throughout the ship, anytime something pseudo-dramatic happened, his voice would echo throughout the ship…”Daaaamn.”

I woke in a cold sweat. Holy fuck. Okay. The Fishburne/Morpheus/HAL shit was funny. But missing out on cryobock and being heckled eternally until I watched it again? Fuck. This can’t happen.

…Reality (Spoilers ahead and blah blah)

It was all I could do to stay awake during this…this thing. But I knew falling asleep would be signing my death warrant (aka: having to see this fucker again). And oh did I get restless. I even messaged stupidityhole shit like this randomly during the movie:

MAY I PLEASE WALK OUT

FUCKINGBAUXIENENSLJDBWIXKSN

OHMYFUCKINGPLEASE

-Something about punching his face off.

And, SHOCKER, he didn’t reply to any of those. He was reveling in my misery. Fucker.

Space Ghost Notes

I entertained myself by jotting little notes on my phone. Would you like a sampling? Sure you would!

Jock wakes after asteroid collision
Wonder how long it will be before they show his ass

Ship is to travel 120 years (total) and can’t get through a MFing asteroid belt?

CALLED IT. Jock boy nudie shower shot.

Oooo Bob Dylan music playing…while Jocky McGee models clothes?!
What the fuck am I watching

HOW COULD BOB DYLAN AGREE TO LEND HIS MUSIC TO THIS
Thank you for a moment of peace Bobby

Bartender android
Yay

He passenger not crew
Jim

I do like the scene where he wanders out in space, thinking, feeling, lost…adrift, afraid, alone, desperate, hopeless

Nearly suicides afterward w/o spacesuit
I would too if I was in this fucking movie

He woke blondie on purpose!
Year later

FUCKING SPACE-STALKER

Also WHERE’S THE FUCKING CRYOBOCK! I WANT CRYOGENICALLY-FROZEN CHICKEN RIGHT NOW I NEED TO LEAVE

He mechanic
She writer

“It’s the ultimate geographical suicide.” This is her line, and she’s a writer?! i’m gonna piss myself

Hm. I wonder when spacehumping begins

ohmyfuck
dance competetions
basketball
swimming
bar scenes
movies

I’M SORRY HE WENT WOMAN SHOPPING FOR FUCKS SAKE AND SHE HAD NO CHOICE

space flying yay

CUE SPACE HUMPING
CALLED IT
ugh lots of space humping

OH YAY! MORPHEUS!
“How long were you alone?”
~ A year
“Still…daaaaaaamn”

OKAY. I GOT MY DAAAAAMN. WHERE’S THE FUCKING CHICKEN?!

how many times do i have to watch blondie swim?!?!?!
crazy half-naked gravity field failure in pool
yay i get to watch blondie suspended in a spacebubble…dangling in her swimsuit
on the bigscreen

WHY AM I HERE

Ship falling apart
that wasn’t predictable at all
morpheus bites the dust
holes in the ship

“How’s that even happen? I thought this ship was supposed to be meteor-proof.”
“I guess one got through.”

who the hell wrote these lines

There was one other dude in the theater. He either fell asleep or slid down in his seat to whack it to spacehumping. Ew. He’s nasty. Nasty dude. Bad.

Three chicks came in at some point. Looked like mom and two daughters. They laughed at the “serious” moments. That was entertaining.

In conclusion… NO. JUST. NO.

So remember that dream I told you about?’

Yeah.

Sometimes dreams do come true.

No. Fucking. Idea. What the hell he meant by “cryogenically-frozen chicken.”

Credits start, and I’m thinking…it better be in the forty-five seconds of this he told me to sit through.

I’m the last one in the theater. The others hauled ass.

I sit through half the credits.

Nada.

I get up. Walk down the aisle and am about to leave. But then, I think…what if this is part of the trick? I’ve sat through all this, no way am I leaving yet.

Prop myself against the wall (ewww, why is it sticky?) and watch – EVEN READ – the credits until it’s completely over. Screen goes black. Lights come on.

There’s a simple solution to all this.
I’m gonna kill him.

Aftermath

Best part?! My car is stranded there at the theater. The snowstorm that was supposed to start at 10 PM started several hours early.

Yeah. I called an uber, and he got me almost “home.” Then I walked the rest of the way. Only about half a mile. Was kind of fun, actually.

Car is still there, because there’s been over a foot of snow where I am, and I can’t get out.

But I got to be out and about in the snowstorm! Driving around Portland, chatting with a cool driver. Then walked the rest of the way in the snow!

AND I STILL DIDN’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK STUPIDITYHOLE MEANT BY CRYOGENICALLY-FROZEN CHICKEN.

You know what he said, right? Guess you’ll have to see it again, hey? Dreams do come true! Or something.

Expletives ensued.

Question for Peopleaneous

Did anyone see this movie and actually LIKE it? I’d love to know what the hell I missed that has like twelve people on earth raving about it.

 

Masturdation Take 2: Date Night with Deadpool

First, for my writing and your reading pleasure:

Friday the 15th, I took myself out for a date. A masturdate, that is. Since I was already scheduled to be off work that day, I decided to make the best of it. There was an afternoon showing of Deadpool, which was good…because my anxiety levels are nowhere near low enough to masturdate on a Friday night when the place is packed with touchy-feely couples.

Unlike my Date Night with Bill Murray, my Date Night with Deadpool had a few people in the theater aside from myself. So. Let’s see. There was me – the only solo chick there to watch Deadpool. Then there were about eight or so solo dudes there. And there were two couples: one young teenage couple, and one couple with what looked to be a seven or eight year old little boy. Y’all. This is Deadpool we’re talking about, not TMNT. It took them until halfway through to realize they’d made a mistake…in spite of the fact that it was obvious on the opening credits.

Anyway.

Deadpool.

I’ve never really gotten the appeal of Ryan Reynolds, as either an actor or as a hot piece of ass. But uhm. Yeah. Deadpool changed my mind. I’m not into Ryan Reynolds, but I definitely would fuck Deadpool to death. TO DEATH. That filthy mouth, the irreverence, the silliness, and yes the ass.

This isn’t going to be a review, because I’d rather talk to y’all about parks and shit. Not shit. I mean parks and shit. Not parks and poop. You know? Yeah, you know.

I laughed my ass off during the flick. It was interesting, because no one was laughing. So I felt self-conscious and tried to will myself not to laugh. Then I said fuck it. This shit is funny.

And you know what happened?

When I started laughing at funny shit, so did others. It’s as though we all had the same anxiety. The same reservation.

So me and this one dude in particular laughed at pretty much the exact same shit all throughout the movie.

The flick was filthy, vulgar, bloody, laden with sexual innuendo and overt sexual references. In other words, I wanted to marry it. Deadpool was so fucking funny I wanted to marry it.

I needed the humor. The filth. The irreverence. It made it worth striking out on my own. I didn’t even wear my hoodie, y’all. I laughed and had a blast and realized that when someone tries to tear you down, it’s best to realize it’s not about you. It really isn’t. So go out, masturdate and be like Deadpool.

P.S. Guess what?! I totally wrote this from work. So if the site is working up here tomorrow, I’ll get to the one about my little park visits and share some piccies!

A Musical Interlude: Clint Mansell

I love Clint Mansell. I think I always have, only I didn’t know it until someone put a name to the music that moves so many. Best known for his work as a composer, Mansell has scored films such as The Fountain, Requiem for a Dream, and Black Swan. And, you may have noticed, those are all three Darren Aronofsky films, but Mansell has scored for others as well.

I don’t know if I’ve told y’all…but The Fountain ranks among my favorite films. And it is no exaggeration to say that it would be a different film entirely without Mansell’s touch. It is dark and moving. Poignant and ethereal. Emotional and painful. Hopeful and yearning. Surreal and earthy. Life and death and resurrection and everything between. Soul shattering pain and redemption. I don’t even know what I’m saying, really. It’s everything.

I cried. Nay, I wept. I was an absolute wreck in the aftermath of The Fountain. For days. Days. I had been warned, at least a couple of years prior to watching it…I had been warned to steer clear of it. But then The Aussie told me it was important. I almost didn’t make it through it, quite literally choking on my sobs more than once. But I did. And it will always be part of me now. Perhaps it always was, and that’s why it moved me so.

All of these rambles to lead you into this song:

Listen to it. Please. I beseech you to listen and not with ears only, but with all of you. If you listen, you will know where I am today and why I’m not very talkative (blogative?). I’ve had it on loop for an hour. And if you listen, I’d love to know what the song does to you. It shakes me to my core and somehow fuels my depression while also comforting me. It makes me feel…understood. Felt.

But don’t listen to me. Listen to the song. Please. And then, listen to the entire soundtrack. It’s instrumental, so you can listen to it while doing other things…if you’re not too much of a wreck to function.

Below is the entire soundtrack, but if you’re wanting all the feels, you may as well go for it and watch the film.

If you haven’t seen The Fountain, go forth. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you are a sensitive creature at all, it will shatter you. But it’s a shattering you must endure.

Yeah. I’m gonna need to medicate with Billy Idol or something soon. Or a New Girl marathon! Yeah! No. Bad idea. Why must memories so firmly attach themselves to everything?

Anyone have any tips for really good comedy? Gimme gimme!

Date Night with Bill Murray

Every now and then, for the past year or so, I’ve gotten an urge to go to the theater for a movie. It’s usually because something comes out that I really wanna see. I’ve ignored the urge, until now.

Friday, I ditched work early and went to see the afternoon matinee showing of Rock the Kasbah. By myself. Yeah, yeah, I know the movie bombed. Like hardcore bombed, only outperforming a shitty take on a shitty old cartoon. But I’ve been interested to see Rock the Kasbah since I first heard about it. Because Bill Murray. What more reason could one possibly need?

Breakin’ it Down

The IMDb synopsis of the film reads: A down-on-his-luck music manager discovers a teenage girl with an extraordinary voice while on a music tour in Afghanistan and takes her to Kabul to compete on the popular television show, Afghan Star.

I usually try to avoid reading IMDb synopses as well as movie trailers; I find them rather spoilery. As I’ve mentioned in the past, I’m highly sensitive to spoilers. And if you are as well – and have any interest in Rock the Kasbah – please refrain from reading any more of this post, because I am not going to avoid spoilers. I’m not a professional reviewer, and I intend to just speak my mind about the movie.

Bill Murray’s character, Richie Lanz, is a washed up music manager. I mean, seriously washed up – both his professional and personal lives are a shambles. The movie opens to Richie listening to a horrendous audition – performed by actress Sarah Baker – as the girl, Maureen, sings her heart out. We learn right away just how hard-up and possibly shady Richie’s character is when he signs shakes hands with the girl (he doesn’t do paperwork – handshakes are his thing) and accepts a check to represent her, a retainer of sorts.

His only other singer is cover-singer Ronnie (Zooey Deschanel), and she’s pretty fucking terrible at what she does. She can’t sing for shit, and she’s completely aimless when performing on stage – and those performances are limited to one-off bar gigs. Even the drunk audience won’t stick around to listen to her.

Richie meets some USO dude during one of Ronnie’s performances, and this is how they wind up in Afghanistan. For me, things didn’t get interesting until Afghanistan. I like Zooey Deschanel and all, New Girl anyone? But I wasn’t drawn in by the plot until the culture-shocked and wasted Ronnie ditched Richie in Kabul, absconding with his cash and passport.

Yes, that’s Bruce Willis’ lap she’s on. Uh. What the hell was his character’s name? John McClane. No. Wrong movie. Oh who cares. It’s Bruce Willis.

This is when Richie’s sad and pathetic life turns into a weird and pathetic life. But, ever the optimist, he doesn’t give up. Even though that means becoming a gun runner to drum up some cash, selling faulty American ammo to a Pashtun tribe. And it’s while visiting the Pashtuns that Richie takes a fateful piss in the desert of Afghanistan.

During his (midnight?) piss, he hears the voice of a young girl singing and playing his guitar. Richie’s Pashtun guide and interpreter warns him that it is haram – forbidden by Islamic law – for a Pashtun female to sing or perform music. But Richie and the girl, Salima, are undeterred, though violation of the law could have them both honor-killed. Salima is the daughter of the tribe’s leader, Tariq (Fahim Fazli), and though he forbids it – Salima runs away with Richie to perform on Afghan Star – think an Afghani American Idol.

Salima & Richie

It is unclear to me whether Richie even needed the money at this point, because of the gun-running, but it looks like this is his chance at redemption. He’s constantly lying to people, saying he repped big stars – such as Madonna – but he’s really never had any success in the entertainment industry. This is his chance, and as you may guess, it has a happy ending. Richie refuses to give up on Salima, even when she is taken back to her village compound. And he is spared death by helping save the village against an internal uprising by Tariq’s rival.

Jonas Khan – “Nizar” in the film. Just gonna put this here because yum. I’m writing this on Halloween, and this is my candy.

That is the movie in a nutshell, though I didn’t mention Bruce Willis’ strange uber-soldier / mercenary memoir writing / Danielle Steel fan character, Bombay Brian. Bombay Brian had that permanent semi-grin that Willis always seems to wear. But it worked for the character. He was weird, quirky, angry, and emotional. The interactions between Bombay Brian and Richie provided some of the funnier moments.

I also haven’t mentioned Kate Hudson’s character, Merci. Look, I’m not gonna mince words here. I don’t like Kate Hudson. I don’t think she’s a good actress, and I don’t get the appeal other than her body – which I’m not interested in. But I know plenty of people think she’s hot and don’t wanna watch a movie without a “hot chick” parading around in her underwear at some point. Cue Kate Hudson’s “Merci.” She’s the friendly “heart of gold” prostitute that helps Richie save the day, first by “merci/mercy fucking” him and then by harboring Salima while she’s in Kabul for the singing competition. Her fake-ass Texas/southern accent is ridiculous and off-putting. It distracts the hell out of me when I hear put-on southern accents. Just stop it already, Hollywood. Unless you’re poking fun on purpose, stop trying to pull off southern accents. Most of your people can’t do it believably. This is a huge pet peeve for me, FYI. So yeah. If Bill Murray isn’t your thing, but Kate Hudson doing poor mimicry of a drawl in her underwear is your thing, then this movie is still your jam.

The Final Takeaway (plus some things that struck me)

Though this movie was billed as a comedy, I didn’t really laugh much. But it was fun to laugh out loud, uninhibited, when it struck me. Empty theater for the win! Seriously, I was the only one in there…which I loved.

Richie tokin’ it out during a drive in Kabul. Note the empty house.

This wasn’t a great comedy. And for roughly the first half of the movie, I was unimpressed and had a hard time relaxing and getting into it. Part of that could have been because I was way way way outside my comfort zone. Being out and about and alone in a theater. It was weird and unsettling but also cool and thrilling. I don’t know how much of that contributed to my initial impressions of the flick. But it’s worth noting.

Once the movie found its purpose in Afghanistan, it felt like the plot flowed better. Though it was still a bit plodding at times, I kind of expected that from a quirky Bill Murray film. I did expect it to be funnier. But, to me, it was more drama than comedy. Maybe a subtle blend into dramedy.

Bill Murray was Bill Murray, but a bit more serious than I’m used to seeing. Bruce Willis was Bruce Willis. Zooey Deschanel was a muted Zooey Deschanel. Kate Hudson was an annoying Kate Hudson. Leem Lubany (Salima) wasn’t very good, really. I found her stoic, never looking afraid or emotional, but she’s young and inexperienced and I’m okay with that. Side note: I kept thinking of a young Jami Gertz, circa The Lost Boys, when I looked at Salima. Is it just me?

Leem Lubany (Salima)

Jami Gertz (blurry crap)

I inexplicably began crying while Selima sang on Afghan Star. I couldn’t figure out why, and it made me uncomfortable. Sometimes I start crying like that, during movies or shows, and I don’t know why. I tried to figure this one out, and the closest I could come to a legit reason to weep was the fact that I was watching someone literally risking her life in pursuit of a passion.

When’s the last time we truly risked our lives for something? When’s the last time anything was even worth that to us? And what does that say about our existence if we can’t come up with something that we’re willing to risk being stoned to death in pursuit of?

There were some overt references to the U.S.’ interference and double-dealings, funding and arming any side of any conflict so long as the cash keeps flowing. The double-timing arms dealers have so much money, they literally throw it at Richie in one scene. And they make some comment that there’s always plenty of cash just there for the taking, so long as the U.S. is in some declared state of war – because war is lucrative. And, of course, tribal infighting results in a gun battle (though super short) at the end of the movie because Afghanistan. Personally, I appreciated the jabs.

Through it all Richie perseveres and Salima sings. Dressed in white, angelic and innocent, singing “Peace Train” to win the competition. It’s beautiful and poetic, and we are shown images of people across Afghanistan glued to television sets or radio, watching and listening to this forbidden performance. Tentative smiles on the faces of little girls, filled to the brim with hope for a brighter future. Awareness and acceptance dawning on the faces of strict and hardened men. The peace train rolls through and touches them, hearts and minds opening to a brighter future of acceptance and equality. It’s beautiful and idealistic and optimistic.

For Bill Murray and for the message of the movie, it was worth watching in spite of its weaker moments and Kate Hudson’s lameass accent and underwear.

Salima quotes Rumi to Richie at a decisive point in the film, and I loved it. I love Rumi, and it’s perfect to finish this post out:

There is a candle in your heart,
ready to be kindled.
There is a void in your soul,
ready to be filled.
You feel it, don’t you?

The beauty and simplicity of Rock the Kasbah made it worth the watch. And I think it suffered from marketing misfires – it shouldn’t have been sold as a comedy. It’s more of a touching “come together, never give up, fight against all odds, can’t we all just get along” kinda movie with moments of awkward and subtle hilarity. I liked the film, and I think it’s kinda important.

P.S. I didn’t write about the soundtrack, but I thought this article summed it up succinctly if you’re interested in soundtracks like I am. And for those of you that like trailers, here ya go:

If I Could Turn Back Time

I watched “Project Almanac” last night. It was a decent little time-travel flick – got bogged down in the middle with too much focus on teenage love and party time. The flick was typical in that regard – clueless geeky boy pines after hot popular girl, eventually winning her over in spite of himself. But they made up for it with the fun, natural banter between the group of friends. What I really hated, though, was the found-footage hand-held camera filming style. It was hard to watch. Anyway, it wasn’t some cinematic treasure. It was a decent movie with an interesting take on the time-travel genre.

I mention the movie because it made me ponder: What would I do if I could turn back time? What would you do? Let’s put aside the simple and obvious answers like the ones demonstrated in the movie – going back in time to win the lottery or get the girl – I mean, let’s say we’ve taken care of any material needs so you can stop focusing on that. And let’s get into the meat of who you are and what you want. What would you do if you could go back in time? (We’ll also pretend there’s no such thing as impossible paradoxes and negative ripple effects, for the sake of this exercise.)

Okay. Super serious time. Here goes.

If I could turn back time…If I could find a way…I’d:

1. Go back and punch that bitch who made my life miserable in second through fifth grades. Fucking Other Stephanie. I’d be The Stephanie after putting her in her place. Wonder what that would have done for my self-esteem.
2. Encourage a certain someone to put more worms and bugs in her mud pies. Then encourage her to eat them. Would make me feel better later in life about the kind of adult she became.

Okay, okay. I’m being ridiculous. In all sincerity, my list would look more like this:

1. Insist on spending more time with my mamaws. Learn from them important things like: how to be a woman, how to garden, how to sew, how to think critically but without judgment, how to be graceful and gracious. Things like that.
2. Take school seriously in junior high and high school, times when, in reality, I totally dropped the ball and lost out on scholarships because of it.
3. Refuse to spend any time with him and not allow him to infect my life any more than he had when I was a child.
4. Figure out a way to stay in art classes when I was a kid, despite it being cost prohibitive for my family.
5. Pick a good major and stick with it, instead of switching and switching and settling on fine arts degrees that cost a hell of a lot more than they were worth.
6. Dance with that boy in fourth grade who probably did not have a sinister motive for asking.

Yeah, those are the sorts of things I would go back and change. Things that build good character and positive self-esteem. Things that would have made me a better person and more successful adult. A better human being. Things that would have made me less paranoid in my fellow man and more optimistic of my future.

What about you? If you could turn back time?