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Archive for November, 2009

November 22, 2009

10 Reasons Why Winter Blows


*Note* If you came here just because you thought I was naked in a hat and mittens, shame on you.  But it worked, right (and technically, that IS all I’m wearing except you can’t see the rest)?  And now that you’re here, gosh, you might as read what I wrote?  Yah?  S’good, thank you.  *Bats long eyelashes*  On to the crap good stuff:

I’m a morning person.  I’m a night person.  I’m a people person.  One thing I’m not?  A winter person.  I. HATE. IT.  There is nothing good about winter.  Wait, that’s not fair… there must be something good about winter.  Let me think… and nope, can’t think of anything.  Nada.  Drawing a big blank.  And to add to that negative train of thought, let me give you ten reasons winter blows.

1. SNOW.  Snow is horrible.  It’s cold.  Wet (ish).  Hard.  Soft.  Fluffy.  Annoying.  And did I mention COLD?  I love when people say to me, but it’s so pretty.  Especially the first snow fall.  Um, no, it isn’t.  It’s disgusting.  I will never think otherwise.  I hate snow.  Don’t tell me snowmen are cute.  They’re only cute if they’re made of fabric and don’t melt.  A snowman made of snow?  I stab it.  In the face.

2. ICE.  See # 1.  Similiar to snow except it’s harder and frozener.  And colder.  Ice on the roads?  Yeah, makes for great driving especially for the dickwads who think they can drive the same way they do on bare roads.  Like a dickwad.  You can’t.  It’s ICY and shit.  Ice means slippery.  So, ICE=shit drivers.  Bad combo.  Aaaand, it’s fucking cold.  Right, I mentioned that.

3. COLD.  Winter brings cold temperatures and means I must wear extra layers of clothing.  I don’t like that.  I don’t want to wear more than I have to and bundling up is annoying.  How can I bring teh sexah in a parka?  Nearly impossible.  Cold is for penguins.  Do I look like a penguin to you?  And cold temps bring SNOW and ICE.  See # 1 and 2.

4. CHRISTMAS MUSIC.  Yes, winter brings Christmas music because Christmas happens to arrive in winter.  I do not like Christmas music.  I like to shank it IN THE NECK.  And I love going shopping now so I can hear Christmas music blaring through the speakers in the department store.  Puts me in the mood.  To stab the cashier.  She did give me the correct change and I appreciate that.  She did it with a smile, too.  That’s nice.

5. SHOVELS.  Winter means I may have to pick up a shovel and shovel SNOW and/or chip ICE.  See # 1 and 2.  If I’m picking up a shovel, I’d like it to be because I’m going to beat my mailman for failing to bring me fun goodies in the mail.  Not for shoveling snow.  That seems wrong to me.

6. BOOTS.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  I luff boots.  I’m a boot whore.  But my boots are made for walking on bare sidewalks.  In the mall.  Dancing at a club.  Other things.  Not for wading in snow, or trying not to slip on ice.  See # 1 and 2.  Boots are meant to be pretty.  Sexy.  Not for getting wet and slushy because of that ugly shit called SNOW.

7. DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME.  True, it begins before winter officially starts but it happens when it’s starting to get cold – see # 3 – and it makes winter that much more depressing.  It’s dark at around 5 p.m. now and so we get to be cold and sit in darkness.  Yes, my house has electricity, so I do have lights and don’t actually sit in the dark, but when I look out the window at 5:47 p.m. and see blackness, I want to choke it.  It being anyone within 3 feet of me.  What are we saving the daylight for?  Let’s use it.  So who can I talk to about this daylight savings shit?

8. SNOT.  You know what I’m talking about.  It’s cold.  People are out.  Their noses run.  Snot may drip from their nose.  It grosses me the fuck out.  I DON’T DO SNOT.  It’s the one thing I can. not. handle. ever.  Come near me with a snotty nose and I’ll cut your face off.  Fair warning.

9. UGGS.  If you own Uggs, I’m sorry but you need to burn them.  When I mentioned boots in # 6, I was talking about sexy boots.  Boots with heels.  High boots.  Pretty ankle boots with a chunky heel.  Not slipper boots.  Uggs should be shot.  And stabbed.  And shanked.  Don’t wear them.  Stop humiliating yourself.  Have some pride.  THEY ARE FUCKING SLIPPERS WITH TREADS.  Stop the insanity.

10. LONGEST SEASON OF THE YEAR.  I don’t give a rat’s ass what scientist may or may not say about seasons.  Here, where I live, winter is the longest season of the year.  Why can’t the other three seasons be the longest?  Huh?  Why the hell not?  Why does winter-like weather have to start in October and end in fucking June?  Me not likey.  I may whine about the heat, too, but for serious, if I had to pick, I’m picking HEAT.  I think I’ll move.  California, here I come.  So, they might get earthquakes, floods and fires… at least they have the warm.

In closing arguments, winter blows.  Sucks.  Has nothing to offer.  Oh, you ski?  Yeah, whatever.

Posted by Sassy @ 12:32 pmI want to Punch You in the Neck,Just Stuff.,Winter sucks balls9 comments  

November 19, 2009

The Box (May Sucketh)


I’m going to give a movie review.  Because?  I feel like it.  No, I do not do this professionally (yet) and no one is asking me to do this, I’m just a giver.  What can I say?  I’m going to talk about The Box.  If you have not seen it, and plan to, you should stop reading now as I am going to spoil it for you.  Like, in a big way.  Fair warning.

***Spoilers*** (But really?  I’M saving YOU money).

The movie takes place in 1976  and honestly, it drives me nuts when movies take place in the 70s unless there are disco balls involved and/or white pimp suits.  There were none of those.

Let us (by us, I mean, me and my split personalities) begin:

Okay, the opening scene involves some sort of memo being typed across the giant movie screen, something about a dude named Arlington Steward being burned and he is delivering shit to people.  Not actual shit, but I’m using that as a general term, as I often do.  There’s mention of the Mars project.  Yeah.  I should have known right then and there, that I would be wanting to HANG MYSELF by minute 26 into the movie.

So, there’s this couple, Norma and Arthur Lewis, and early one morning, their doorbell rings and wakes them.  Norma is the one to get up – I’m guessing because Arthur is a big pussy who obviously doesn’t care if his wife gets stabbed in the face by the home invaders, except it’s 1976 and I’m fairly certain there were no stabby home invaders back then.  Plus, this is not that kind of movie, so there was no stabbing (unfortunately).  I personally would have loved TO STAB THE WHOLE MOVIE in it’s STUPID FACE.  Sorry, I digress… Truth be told, home invaders don’t usually ring the doorbell.  Just sayin’.

Norma, the less lame of the two, opens the front door to find a box wrapped in brown paper, sitting on their step.  She sees a black car drive away (don’t ask me what kind of car, I don’t know cars and neither does Norma.  IT WAS BLACK.  That is the extent of my, and Norma’s, car knowledge), and picks up the box and brings it in the house.

By this time, Arthur, the lamesauce husband, has come down the stairs and they stare at the box.  Their son, Walter,  (smartest character in the whole movie) is at the top of the stairs, asking if Santa has come early.  No, Santa is fat and lazy (and only pretends to be jolly), he does not come early, little boy.

The semi-good looking family (boy is super cute) sit at the table (and OMG y’all, the wallpaper is fucking fug.  Right, it’s 1976, sorry, forgot) and stare at the box.  They open it to find a wooden box with a glass dome on the top that houses a button.  Like a big button.  One that you sooo want to press.  But it’s locked.  However, there is a key and a note.  What does the note say?  It says, “THIS MOVIE SUCKS CAMEL DONG AND YOU SHOULD GET YOUR MONEY BACK.”  Er, I mean it says something about a Mr. Steward will come to their home at 5 p.m.  They are all, like, who is Mr. Steward?

Arthur works at NASA as something kinda important (ish) - something to do with optics – and he thinks he’s all a big shot because he helped design the Viking Mars probe camera thingie <— tech term.  Arthur hopes to be like one of those dudes that go into space – right, an astronaut – but he failed his test.  LAME-O.  He didn’t seem like an artard (well, sometimes he did) but it was his psych exam that he was a douche on, so that means NASA thinks he’s NUTS.  Too nuts for space, my friend.  And really, any guy who lets his wife go answer the door at 5 a.m. ish, deserves to fail LIFE.

Norma, who limps (you’ll find out why, I won’t spoil that for you – ’cause I’m all sweet and stuff), heads to her job as a teacher at a shee-shee-foo-foo private school.  Their son Walter attends the school, but sadly the school is doing away with employee discount shit and Norma and Arthur won’t be able to afford the tuition for their boy.  What does that have to do with anything?  NOT A FUCKING THING THAT I CAN TELL.  But Norma shoulda SHANKED A BITCH when the dean told her they were cutting the discounts out.  SHANK HIM.  With your shank.  Can I get a holla to Miss M?  <— private joke, sorry ’bout that – But she be my right-hand shankin’ sister.

The work day is over and Norma gets home, probably to start supper, because we know Arthur is lamesauce material and I’m sure, doesn’t cook.  At 5 p.m. Arlington Steward is at their door, just as the note read, and Norma answers the door, to see that Mr. Steward is all disfigured because he was in a fire (ish) situation (pay attention, I mentioned that up above).  Don’t play with matches, kids.  That was the message I took from it.  Or watch movies titled THE BOX.

Norma, invites the stranger into her home, probably ’cause it’s 1976, and like I said, there were no stabby home invader types back then (and they didn’t ring doorbells and be all pleasant).  The dude wants to know if Norma and/or her whackjob-I-failed-NASA’s-psych-test husband pushed the button?  No, they hadn’t.  And they now have a decision to make – they can press the button and get one million dollars BUT someone, somewhere in the big bad world will die.  Norma gets a look of shock on her face.  Truthfully, I wanted to punch her in the neck, but I had to chant, IT’S JUST A MOVIE, IT’S JUST A MOVIE, IT’S JUST A MOVIE… to calm myself.  Mr. Steward informs Norma that she and Arthur have 24 hours to make a decision.  He hands her a hundred dollar bill just for a lap dance allowing him in their home and she can keep it whether they press the button or not.  Wow, a whole hundred bucks.  Right, though, it’s 1976.  That’s a lot of clams for then.

Arthur arrives home and Norma tells him all about Mr. Steward and the decision they must make.  But they get all curious and shit, and check out the box and Norma gets slap happy and hits the button.  Was it on purpose?  WHO FUCKING CARES.  IT’S SO DUMB.  I mean, yeah, this movie is so worth the $12.50 I PULLED OUT OF MY ASS.  Zombieland was way better.  Much more action happening.  Things being pumped and shit, like guns and stuff.  Again, I digress…

Creepy dude – and not because his face is burned, but just because HE’S CREEPY – comes back and hands them the briefcase with the million dollars and sort of eludes to the fact that the person to die?  Will be one of them.  OMG, I CAN BARELY STAND THE INTENSE DRAMA.  I should have taken medication before watching this.   A LOT OF MEDICATION.  Arthur, still trying to NOT be lamedouchey, tries to give back the dough, but Arlington ignores him and drives off in the car that I have no earthly idea what kind it is and leaves Norma and Arthur sort of shitting their pants.  Oops, we made a mistake.  TOO BAD, FUCKERS.

You find out who dies – well, maybe it’s related and maybe it’s just random shit, because if you like movies with random shit happening, THIS IS THE MOVIE FOR YOU.

This is the part of the movie where I STABBED MYSELF FOR BEING AN ARTARD FOR PAYING TO SEE THIS MOVIE.  There is a wedding rehearsal dinner, presents, a box that looks similar to the one left for Norma and Arthur, police get involved, Norma’s family get involved, a waiter whose nose starts bleeding (yeah, ’cause WE CARE AND THAT’S IMPORTANT IN THE WHOLE SCHEME OF THE FILM), snow, a babysitter named Dana, whose nose also bleeds, whose real name is Sara, who goes into a motel room and sees photos of Norma, Arthur and Walter… need I go on?  You see where this is going, right?  No?  Let me explain… IT TURNS INTO A BIG FUCKING, CONFUSING, SHITTY MESS.  It’s so confusing, you will need a map to find your brain because it STABBED ITSELF IN ALL OF THE CONFUSION.

Arthur falls through the ceiling – along with eleventy-million gallons of water – of their bedroom and that is the point, exactly the point, WHERE I SHOT MYSELF IN THE FACE.  HARD.

There are “gateways,” and other MORE RANDOM SHIT THAT WILL ANNOY THE EVER LIVING FUCK OUT OF YOU and then you will betch slap the FUCKING DUMB out of the person sitting next to you – whether you know them or not, because you need to unleash your anguish at paying money for this donkey shit.

I won’t tell you who kicks the bucket, or who goes temporarily (or not) blind and deaf, because I know you are DYING to see this flick.  Oh, I’m sure there’s a “deep” message somewhere in the movie, something like DON’T MARRY A MAN WHO WOULD MAKE YOU GET UP AT 5 A.M. TO ANSWER THE DOOR BECAUSE HE FAILED HIS NASA PSYCH TEST, or don’t push buttons.  Yes, as deep as that.  Deep like, major deep.  Deep like cow shit.

In closing, if you like your insides turning to ANGRY, and you love spending your money on confusing garbage, then The Box is for you.  Bring a knife (or shanking scissors) and baggies.  You WILL be cutting the people around you.  Just because.

Posted by Sassy @ 2:08 pmJust Stuff.,Movies That Suck,Nonsense6 comments  

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