Y’all know damn well I don’t do formal reviews. I’m just gonna talk a bunch of shit and label it a review(ish). If I wanted to write an essay, I’d knock your fucking socks off. But I’d rather talk shit. So I’m gonna talk shit. Once more for those in the nosebleeds: SPOILERS, MOTHERFUCKERS.
Brienne & Tormund
Dudes. DUDES. Tormund being a total horndog toward Brienne, and Brienne being wildly uncomfortable….was, without question, my absolute favorite part of the season. Rare is the occasion when I laugh out loud if I’m watching or listening to something by myself. I don’t really know why that is. But oh man, I busted a gut in these few scenes. Look! Just look at their faces! Brienne is a badass and has been one of my top characters since I met her. Same with Tormund. They should totally do it. And he’s a wildling, for fuck’s sake. I bet once you go wildling, you never go back.
This chick right here needs no introductions. She can introduce her damn self just fine. Seriously. She is an epic badass. When Jon and Sansa approach her to ask for the support of her house (read: her knights), she gives them hell. And rightfully so. No house worth its salt will throw its banner behind a cause without knowing fucking well it’s not only for a worthy cause but also that the knights will not be fighting a guaranteed losing effort. The Starks begin with simple pleas, but Lady Mormont isn’t having it. When all is said and done, she devotes her entire army to the cause: 62 fighting men, which makes them all the more valuable to her house and to Bear Island. And she didn’t just devote her troops, she’s active through the entire effort between the Starks and the Boltons (Ramsay).
Seriously. Team Stark. Team Mormont. Team Dothraki (I only seem to like Daenerys when she has a Dothraki horde.)
The Dothraki Horde
Am I the only one who’s happy to see these motherfuckers back in action? I mean besides the yum factor (*sniff* I still miss Khal Drogo), they’re simply badass. Look, I’m in the MAJOR minority here in what I’m about to say: I think Emily Clarke is seriously lacking as an actress. Like hardcore. I get tired of watching her. Now, I love her story-line and her role. I love Daenerys. I just don’t think Emily Clarke is right for the part (it could very well be a problem with her direction, though). So I focus on other things, like The Dothraki, or her cool counselors. Oh. And of course the dragons. Duh.
But I really fucking hate this guy:
I mean, really. Whatever happened to the real Daario Naharis? He was smug and cocky and arrogant and mysterious.
Hmmmm. What else?
Oh! Oh! This Crazy Bitch!
Cersei has gone full on Mad Queen on us. How many times did she threaten to burn cities? To burn it all to ash for the sake of her children? Over and over and over and fucking over again. And then she did it. She burned the fucking sept, with everyone in it: Margaery, Loris, The High Sparrow, Lancel, Mace Tyrell, Kevan Lannister, etc. Anyone in the sept boiled alive by wildfire. (If anyone survived it, I’ll be pissed because it’s simply not possible the way they filmed it. They were all trapped.)
The best part? It instantly bites that crazy bitch in the ass.
But hey, at least she got the throne, right? For now…
Who else do I wanna talk about? I mean, Jon Snow doesn’t surprise me, except it was really nice seeing his ass. He’s always a brooding, emotional, thoughtful badass. I love Jon Snow. And I fucking KNEW he was a Targaryen. Absolutely one of the best good characters. I love what has happened with Sansa. It took her long enough, but she’s certainly earned a place in my good character book. She reminds me a lot of Catelyn, her mother’s character. And that’s a good thing. Hmm. (I am curious how it will play out once it comes to light that Jon is not Ned’s bastard and doesn’t belong in House Stark afterall. But Sansa, Arya and Bran still in the picture.)
Oh! Oh! I was superpumped to watch Sansa watch Ramsay get eaten by his own dogs. I’m glad Jon spared him on the battlefield so we all got to have that moment.
I never in a million years imagined Theon Greyjoy returning to my good graces, but it’s a testament to good writing and good acting that he’s there now. I’m proud of what he’s become now and look forward to seeing more of him next season (which very well may be our last season).
Things are shaping up nicely, and while I’m sad to see the end so near, I’ll kinda be glad when it’s over, too. I don’t watch much TV…so I tend to put off GOT until a season has piled up. Then I lose a day marathoning the fuck out of it until I’m caught up. So…this is six seasons so far? I’ve devoted six full days of my life to this show! Doesn’t sound like much, but it is. Hell, it’s a phenomenal story, though.
Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! I can’t finish this post without Arya.
I’ve been worried that Arya is losing her humanity and, just as importantly, her identity. I don’t want a girl to be no one. I want a girl to be Arya Stark. And I want Arya Stark to get back to the rest of the Starks, bringing with her all of her newfound badassery! Suffice it to say, I’m superpumped that a girl is Arya Stark and not no one. That scene with her and the little bitch was badass. By the way, Arya is totally Batman.
Also. I read what I thought was a massive spoiler before I ever watched the season. Someone wrote, after some episode, that Arya died. I didn’t mean to run into that. You know how the internet is. And I was fucking livid. It’s part of what took me so long to finally watch the season and get caught up. I was dreading it. So yeah. I’m thrilled.
Oh! Oh! And Oh My Fuck, this scene!
OHMYGOD AND THE HOUND
I fucking knew he was still alive. On Game of Thrones, if you don’t actually watch someone die, there’s a damn good chance he or she is still alive. I acted a damn fool when this motherfucker showed back up on the screen. Fistpumping the air, screaming, “YEAH! YEAH MOTHERFUCKER! YEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” I shit you not. Welcome back, my friend.
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.
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!
I’ve recently been welcomed into the geek fold at work. They don’t know it (yet), but I refer to them as the Geek Squad (shut up, BestBuy, this isn’t about you). I’ve always known they were geeks – I mean, come on. Boys are usually pretty obvious about such things. But they (well, most of them) didn’t know it about me.
Over the last few weeks, I’ve had to work closely with a couple of them on a new project. The geekiness seeped out, and I found my people. Half a dozen or so dudes who say “fuck” a lot, trade anime and books and play video games together. Some of them are married, while others still live at home. I’m totally picturing a basement full of gadgets, anime and porn, maybe a D&D table, with mom or grandma scornfully delivering PB&J, laundry and classifieds every few hours.
Anatomy of a (Stephanie) Geek
For the record, I’m only about half-geek. Something like: Half anime/comics/gamer geek. Three-quarters introverted, dark corner dwelling book nerd. Four-fifths anti-establishment, pot-smoking smartass. (Just trust my math on this, okay? I’m smart.) Some of the guys are more overtly geeky, while some of them look like total heads but talk a very geeky game.
Herman the Hipster Slings Porn in the Parking Lot
A week or so ago, Herman the Hipster (seriously, no idea that one was a geek) received a boon. One of his recently married friends was ordered by his not-so-geeky wife to get rid of his anime collection. My argument, upon hearing this, was how in the fuck did she not know she was marrying a geek? Didn’t she know what she was getting? Didn’t he take her for a test drive in his replica batmobile? And how in the fuck did he not know he was marrying a controlling bitch? If he’s as geeky as his (formerly) outlandishly massive collection of anime indicates, then he was probably grateful to be getting any booty at all. (I somehow doubt he’ll remain grateful for long.)
So that was how Herman the Hipster happened upon three trunkfuls of anime. And I don’t mean a pocket-sized Prius trunk. I mean the back of a Toyota Forerunner. We’re talking individual films, box sets of entire anime seasons, leather-bound collector’s editions of super rare ones, and one super secret super pervy porny hentai box set at the bottom of a big bin.
Herman the Hipster decided to sell off his friend’s (former) collection at cut rates to any interested coworkers, then sell the rest on ebay at the going prices. So cigarillo-smoking, assumed-to-be-pothead Pookie informed me of the deals goin’ down in the parking lot. (Doesn’t everyone know a Pothead Pookie? This is at least the second one I’ve known.)
Apparently, like three of the lonelier geeks got into a serious bid-war for the hentai box set. I suppose they found the artwork enticing: picture a naked anime chick with a rack the size of the wheels on a monster truck. She’s floating in space – hovering, I imagine, directly over the bed of a sexually frustrated geekboy – covered in what I can only hope is icing. All of the icing in the world, after the cupcake factory exploded. On her tits.
Pookie Prophesies in the Parking Lot
But that all happened once I was out of the way…they couldn’t exactly let the chick see them locked in a bid-war for porntoons. While I was out there with Herman the Hipster, Pookie the Pothead and Manbun Merv, Herman shows us the ones he’s set aside for himself. One of which was Pom Poko.
Pookie looked to be in the throes of traumatic flashbacks.
Pookie the Parking Lot Prophet: Dude, what the fuck are you keeping that for? Burn it!
Herman the Hipster: What? It sounds cute. I’m gonna show it to my daughter.
Pookie the Parking Lot Prophet: What the fuck is the matter with you?! You can’t show that to your kid!
Herman the Hipster: Haha what? Why not?
Pookie the Parking Lot Prophet: Dude. You show that shit to your kid, and she’ll be traumatized for life. I’m telling you. It’s about these…these…these fucking fucked up fucking squirrels, man!
Manbun Merv: *chuckles* What’s wrong with squirrels?
Pookie the Parking Lot Prophet: OH MY GOD. DO NOT SHOW THIS SHIT TO YOUR KIDS. It’s…it’s about these squirrels, man…
Stephanie the Smartass She-Geek: Those look like raccoons to me, Pookie.
Pookie the Parking Lot Prophet: Oh my god, woman! That’s not the point! These fucked up little animals..they try to save their homeland, right? And they use their motherfucking nutsacks to do it!
Everyone dissolves into laughter. Pretty sure I snorted and doubled over.
Stephanie the She-Geek: That sounds like the best thing ever!
Pookie the Parking Lot Prophet: That’s because you don’t understand! Herman, you can not show this shit to your kid. I’m telling you, they use their nutsacks to fight the humans.
At this point, we all take turns quizzing him about the nature of these nutsacks. We’re all under the impression that he means…like a sack of nuts. Peanuts or something that they’ve gathered. Cuz Pookie keeps referring to them as squirrels.
Stephanie the She-Geek: But it’s Studio Ghibli!
Pookie the Parking Lot Prophet: It’s Studio FUCKED UP is what it is!
Stephanie the She-Geek: You’re just being a perv!
Manbun Merv: Pookie man, that’s kinda fucked up.
Herman the Hipster: Okay, okay, how about this. Stephanie, you take it home and watch it. Then bring it back to me and let me know if you think Pookie is just retarded. I really think my kids would like it.
Pookie the Parking Lot Prophet: I see how y’all are, man. Fine! That’s fine! All I can say is good luck, Stephanie. You’re gonna regret watching that fucked up shit.
Stephanie Regrets Watching that Fucked Up Shit
Dudes, Pookie was totally right. I was absolutely convinced that he was reading into it with a dirty mind. I do it, too. I mean, hell, a bunch of animals using their sacks of nuts to fight? I’d have had dirty thoughts about it, too. So I was totally convinced that Pookie was just being a perv, and the movie would be completely innocent.
But Pookie was right. Those little raccoons. They weren’t using sacks of peanuts. They were using their fucking testicles!
The basic premise of the movie is that humans have encroached upon the raccoons’ territory, to the point where they’re running out of places to live. So the raccoons devise a scheme to push the humans back and make them stop development. A pretty common theme for kid flicks. But these raccoons’ scheme involved teaching the youth the ancient skill of shape-shifting.
That’s right. And do you know one of the things that the little male raccoons liked to shapeshift?
Umbrellas, parachutes, carpets. Or murdering humans by stretching their nuts out over big chasms then pulling back when a vehicle drives upon it. I shit you not, y’all. Take a look:
Pookie was right. I couldn’t even finish it. Not because of the nuts. That was super fucking bizarre and funny in a fucked up kinda way. But because it was boring. I just couldn’t get into the story at all.
I returned the DVD to Herman with a sticky that said, “2 out of 2 geeks agree: do NOT show this to your kids!” Unless he wants his daughter asking Santa for a pair of nuts so she can fight the man, too!
I did some digging afterward, wondering what was up with these testicularly gifted critters and found out that they’re modeled after the Tanuki: a Japanese raccoon-dog of lore, with pendulous nads and shape-shifting abilities.
I love learning about different cultures, but this was quite a surprise. I believe I could have gone my whole life without knowing about the…gifted tanuki.
This bitch just had the nerve to insult my hair. It was all up in my face. And I hate when my hair is all up in my face. But rather than cut it all off, I usually just put it in a clip or ponytail. Lacking both of those implements today, I twisted my hair into a bun. And it’s being held in place by a Mirado Black Warrior pencil. (Seriously. Those are the best pencils on earth. At least of the No. 2 variety.)
So she’s all…*points and laughs* you have a pencil in your hair. (No shit, Sherlock. And what are we, fucking EIGHT?)
So then I was all…
So then she was all…*huff* What? *eye roll* (Please bitch. Roll it harder. Roll it so hard you go blind. I’m begging you.)
But then I was all…
Because I knew I’d just slain her with my epic wit. Does it matter whether or not she understood? Not really. Because she knew she was beaten. You could see it in her eyes. I bet that’s the last look in a gazelle’s eyes as the cheetah’s teeth penetrate its throat.
No wonder you looked so smug, Kip. You knew what pure gold that line was. Thank you. We all thank you.
This anime with the weirdly punctuated name (Steins;Gate – REALLY?!) is supposed to be my jam. I’ve had it downloaded for a while, but I was busy finishing up FMAB (Full Metal Alchemist: Brotherhood…much better punctuation in that one). Barring a few exceptions, I’m super late to anime and only seriously got into it within the last five years.
This semi-wannabe-kinda sorta review thingy should be taken with this in consideration: I just came off of FMAB. And, quite frankly (hi again, Frank), I don’t think anything can or will ever top it. Naturally, after coming off of something of such epic magnitude, the first thing to follow is going to be a huge, flaccid disappointment. (Yes, I meant to say flaccid.) (Yes I know what flaccid means.) (Okay, I’ll stop saying flaccid.) (Prude.)
“After discovering time travel, a university student and his colleagues must use their knowledge of it to stop an evil organization and their diabolical plans.” (Premise brought to you by a direct copy/paste from IMDb. Because I’m lazy. But I’m no plagiarist – I cite my sources. Hmph.)
Here’s another direct copy/paste – this time from user j4x: “Okabe Rintarou, an university student who refers to himself as Crazy Mad Scientist Hououin Kyouma and his lab’s members work on a microwave device that can transfer messages to the past. Without getting captured, they should get it working in order to beat the evil organization, SERN and stop their evil plans.”
Sounds right up my alley, alright. So I understand the recommendation. Anime? Check. Sci-fi? Check. Time travel? Check. Conspiracy theories? Check. Mental disturbances? Check. Social anxiety? Check. Good vs. Evil? Check. Geeky/pervy techy sidekick? Check. Smart women? Check. I mean, really. There are so many things for me to like about this.
But I’ve had problems with it, and I’m only three episodes in.
Problems I’ve had with it, only three episodes in
Mayuri Shiina is a major character. As the lifelong friend and financier/snack supplier of the main character, Mayuri is around a lot. She works at some cafe where she dresses like a kitty cat and prances and meows for customers. Look, I get it. A lot of pre-teen or even teenaged geeks really dig watching adult anime girls dress and act like helpless little girls in short skirts and tiny little voices. And oh my god does Mayushii have a tiny little voice. It drives me batshit. The character is sweet, unassuming, just darling. Fine. But does she have to sound like an infant? Grump grump grump. Steins;Gate does have at least one strong female character that I’ve met thus far. But Mayuri gets under my skin. I think FMAB spoiled me to strong chicks in anime. To be fair, they haven’t fan serviced her yet. Yet.
Let’s not even talk about the pink-haired coworker of Mayuri. She’s up there in the promo pic. So far, I’ve only seen her in her work costume. With kitten ears and making her hands into paws. So she can act like a cat. And meow. I may have just vomited typing that. Not yet. But close.
There are also these scenes where the mad scientist is hanging out in hacker chat rooms trying to solve his mysteries. (Are they mysteries, or is he crazy? That’s a major plot point, and that is somewhat intriguing. But I’m also pretty sure the answer to that is obvious.) Okabe/Hououin goes into these underground hacker/conspiracy chat rooms, and you (the viewer) are looking at the screen and inundated with lines and lines of chat room text. It’s overwhelming, and I get superanxious trying to read all of it. How are you to know which pieces to pay attention to and which to discard as extraneous information? ARGH! I should have taken a screenshot so you can see what I mean. But I didn’t, and I’m at work. So. Yeah. I kept pausing over and over and over again so that I wouldn’t miss a single line of text. I’m sure most of it was extraneous and irrelevant, but I couldn’t help myself. Text was there! Demanding to be read!
I just haven’t been grabbed. It hasn’t captivated me yet. Is it because of the annoying little things I’m picking apart? Or do I have time to pick it apart and notice annoying little things because it hasn’t captivated me yet?
Things I do Like Thus Far
Itaru, better known as Daru, is the hacker of the top secret future lab. UGH. And I just got a fucking spoiler when I looked for a picture of him to include here. And now I’m pissed! Hmph. Don’t google the show unless you want spoilers. Anyway! Daru is the stereotypical otaku guy. Fat, lazy, geeky, whip-smart with all things techy/computer. And he’s a pervert. It’s funny watching him call Okabe out on his eccentricities and delusions. And it’s funnier still when he tries to make the girls say things like, “his banana is floppy.” I like Daru. Daru makes me laugh, and that’s super important.
I love how weird and eccentric and over-the top Okabe is. His labcoat. His maniacal laughter. The way he speaks into his phone…while it’s switched off. How convinced he is of his delusions. And how real I really think they are.
The time travel. The conspiracy theories. The phone microwave time machine thingy. The gel bananas. The floppy gel bananas. The mean (but not really) super. The time jumps and multiple timelines. Love it.
To Continue or Cut My Losses
Only three episodes in, now is the time to quit if I’m not diggin’ it. I mean, I’ve only put in an hour of my life thus far. And that’s not too bad at all, especially when there isn’t much else demanding my time. But there are things I hate about it…cut and run.
On the other hand, not everyone can be royalty. I mean. It’s unfair to hold all anime up to FMAB or Ghibli standards (puhleeze). It would be akin to choosing your favorite artist or musician and saying that all else is garbage because it’s not such and such artist or musician. We aren’t going to fall head-over-heels for everything. It’s acceptable to just like something, right? But it’s also probably not a good idea to leave a RHCP concert and expect me to swoon over Yanni five minutes later. I mean, let’s get real. For fucks sake.
Yeah. I’m gonna give it more time. It’s not like I’m hating it. So I’ll watch a few more episodes and reassess.
See? That wasn’t so difficult, now, was it? Now to figure out dinner. Decisions suck. Grump grump grump.
I have this neighbor. Okay, I have many neighbors, but I’m speaking of one in particular. Now this particular neighbor lives directly across the street from me. And she has…let’s call it weird…tastes in decorating.
First off, her house suffers from severe structural degradation as well as massive damage sustained in a recent storm. She – let’s call her Zuul, because there is no neighbor, only Zuul – she has not made any repairs to her house since the storm (or before). Now look. I’m not one of those people who goes around gossiping about neighbors and pressuring them to maintain their homes to a certain standard. Frankly, I don’t give a shit. Maybe I should, but I don’t. Never have. It’s her house, not mine. And I certainly don’t want to be held to anyone else’s standard(s) myself. All of this is coming around to a point, damnit.
So yeah. Back to the story. Her garage collapsed before the storm – she did actually have a buddy haul those remains away after a couple of years. Her roof has had bright blue tarps covering 72.6% of the roof for a year now (that’s an accurate statistic. I did a study. With engineers and everything. I paid them. With cookies and tequila.). Her porch is collapsing, due to rotting columns and a holey roof. Her fence collapsed years ago, its remains still lying where they fell in battle. Against fence ogres. Anyway. I think you’re getting the idea.
But dude. She does have money – whether hers or borrowed – money is not an issue for Neighborzuul (Zuulbor?). You know how I know? She bought a car. Shortly after the storm, she bought a brand new car. The kind with a price in excess of forty grand. She parks it in the driveway next to her two suburbans and her antique bug. And she’s constantly landscaping and re-landscaping.
There are these buckets of flowers everywhere. And a hammock. In the front yard. With one of those old bright green, rusted to within an inch of its lifeless life, round, metal tables with the matching chairs that aren’t rocking chairs but rock anyway. With a red and yellow tablecloth between the surface of the table and another – this one blue – bucket of flowers. There are hanging flowers. Bird feeders. A bird bath. Buckets and cans, some with flowers, some without. There’s a sawhorse. Just sitting there with no discernible purpose.
For the most part, I just smile and shake my head. But dude. DUDE. The latest edition just blows my mind! Sometime in mid-August, Zuul installed some ground lights in the flower bushes adjacent to her porch. And these lights are…wait for it. Wait for it. These lights are LIME GREEN. I shit you not. My first thought was maybe this is some Halloween thing, but I quickly dismissed that because AUGUST. Oh yeah, and she still has a giant pink and baby blue Easter wreath adorning her front door. I can’t make this shit up!
So now, late at night, when all is dark and quiet…you can look outside and see the abode of the Gatekeeper. Zuul is totally preparing for the second-coming of Gozer. Eerie lime-green light cast upward at the rotting columns of the dilapidated minimanse.
Because my neighbor is a fucking member of the Cult of Gozer. Because Ghostbusters. And more importantly because I fear the Staypuft Marshmallow Man (it’s not like I own a fucking proton pack). For all of these reasons, I have a newfound respect for Neighborzuul. Do you, Neighborzuul. Do you.