Yesterday I watched True Lies on a US station, some three letter name like AMT or something, can't remember. It was 5 in the afternoon, so certain things were cut from the movie. Remember Harry's partner trying to cheer Harry up when he thinks his wife is cheating on him?
On TV yesterday he said: "Relax. Helen still loves you. You'll get used to it after a while."
In the original film he says: "Relax. Helen still loves you. She just wants this guy to bang her. It's nothing serious. You'll get used to it after a while."
Ok. They cut the banging-part. I can understand that. What I have a hard time understanding, and that's my point, is this: In the next commercial break the first commercial shown was for "Male Enhancement Medication". The commercial involved Santa Claus and "the gift that keeps on giving". Also several middle-aged very happy women in a party atmosphere.
See what I mean? We can't say "banging", but we can advertize large-cock-pills?
By the way, right after the big-dick-commercial they broadcasted a sleeping-pill commercial of the stupidest kind, "three active ingredients", "three pills in one". It took more time to list the possible adverse effects than to describe the product, it almost seemed like they were advertizing the undesired side effects. Ask your doctor!
And even more stupid after that: anti-depression-medication. "If you're still depressed after taking your usual anti-depression-pills, consider..." Again telling the list of side effects took more time than telling us about the product. (Incidentally the medication names include x's and y's, for research has shown that names including those letters sell better.)
What do we learn from this? The cut version of True Lies is rated 15 in the US. So the children are not allowed to hear about banging, but they are deliberately encouraged to learn about obscure penis-pills and other questionable drugs. No wonder the drug dealer next door goes out of business. (I saw one complaining last night, guess where? Right. On TV.) The school kids must indeed raid their parents' drug supply. Why wouldn't they? It's as-seen-on-TV and it's free. Sorry, dealerman. Can't beat that. Now go enlarge your dick.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Alien VS Predator Racoon by Jury
I actually tried watching Requiem yesterday. For some unfathomable reason I had still hope that it might be at least a little bit better than the abominable predecessor. It is not. It is worse. I won't even bother going into details like the completely fucked up timeline compared to the rest of the franchises (which, as we all know, should have been over after Predator and Aliens (though Alien 3 was alright and 4 just as Predator 2 at least tolerable...). I will not mention the ugly CGI predators and aliens during the exposition (which they should have skipped altogether). And no, I will not speak about killing off a little BOY 10 minutes into the movie (Hello?).
Do not watch this movie. Do not watch this movie.
Play Monkey Island instead. They're re-releasing a Special Edition this summer, talkie, done-up graphics and all.
Apart from that, and to follow up on yesterday's function over form:
I cannot find the jeans I want.
I cannot find the jeans that fit.
But I need a new pair.
Question: Is it alright to buy one that is cheap but doesn't fit perfectly?
Question re-phrased: Shall I sacrifice style for function?
Question re-re-phrased: Can I afford to dress like they dress here? I am European, for God's sake! Don't I have to... fly the flag or something?
Maybe I should ask the peeping-tom-racoon that climbed on the front porch's roof and looked into my in-laws' bedroom window last night. I have them put it on the phone next time. It might hold the answers. Actually, it might not.
Television might. Praise Television! That's where we find our answers. "Style by Jury" seems to be a good source. Or "How to look good naked". Praise W! Praise Slice!
Seriously.*
No, really.**
*Barf.
**Mop up barf and sell as show concept to TV.
He who is amazed by the unbelievable amount of crap broadcasted daily takes a wooden chair and smashes the tube.
Do not watch this movie. Do not watch this movie.
Play Monkey Island instead. They're re-releasing a Special Edition this summer, talkie, done-up graphics and all.
Apart from that, and to follow up on yesterday's function over form:
I cannot find the jeans I want.
I cannot find the jeans that fit.
But I need a new pair.
Question: Is it alright to buy one that is cheap but doesn't fit perfectly?
Question re-phrased: Shall I sacrifice style for function?
Question re-re-phrased: Can I afford to dress like they dress here? I am European, for God's sake! Don't I have to... fly the flag or something?
Maybe I should ask the peeping-tom-racoon that climbed on the front porch's roof and looked into my in-laws' bedroom window last night. I have them put it on the phone next time. It might hold the answers. Actually, it might not.
Television might. Praise Television! That's where we find our answers. "Style by Jury" seems to be a good source. Or "How to look good naked". Praise W! Praise Slice!
Seriously.*
No, really.**
*Barf.
**Mop up barf and sell as show concept to TV.
He who is amazed by the unbelievable amount of crap broadcasted daily takes a wooden chair and smashes the tube.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Function over... & Other Things
1. Function over form.
So we need gear.
Yesterday I got a brand new rain jacket. Gore Tex and all. Black, breathable and everything. Good deal, too. Also it looks quite good.
Today I bought a pair of durable hiking shoes. Gore Tex and all. Pale brown, breathable and everything. Good deal, too. But: They kind of look like sneakers. I thought I was out of the age of wearing sneakers all the time (grade nine to eleven?). Ah well, they'll keep my feet dry in almost all weather conditions. They are also comfortable. And very practical. Repeat to yourself: eff-Oh-eff! Function over form!
2. Function over foam.
Yes, I need new shaving equipment. All this keeping the face smooth eats into my supplies like crazy.
3. Function over eff-off!
Went to the post office. Got there at 5:31. It closes at 5:30. Have to go again tomorrow.
4. Function itself.
The WiFi is quick again! Yay! Thanks, hotel! (Leave unsaid: Finally, after 2 and a half days!)
Farewell.
So we need gear.
Yesterday I got a brand new rain jacket. Gore Tex and all. Black, breathable and everything. Good deal, too. Also it looks quite good.
Today I bought a pair of durable hiking shoes. Gore Tex and all. Pale brown, breathable and everything. Good deal, too. But: They kind of look like sneakers. I thought I was out of the age of wearing sneakers all the time (grade nine to eleven?). Ah well, they'll keep my feet dry in almost all weather conditions. They are also comfortable. And very practical. Repeat to yourself: eff-Oh-eff! Function over form!
2. Function over foam.
Yes, I need new shaving equipment. All this keeping the face smooth eats into my supplies like crazy.
3. Function over eff-off!
Went to the post office. Got there at 5:31. It closes at 5:30. Have to go again tomorrow.
4. Function itself.
The WiFi is quick again! Yay! Thanks, hotel! (Leave unsaid: Finally, after 2 and a half days!)
Farewell.
Undigested Red Meat
It is dark today. The clouds seem heavy and low, but they are quite pale and way up there. Also it is raining, and the city seems cold and icy, while in fact it is actually pretty warm and friendly out there. At least weatherwise. Soon I'm going to cook potatoes and chicken. Yes, it's chicken day today. Fine nice boneless chicken thighs, mashed potatoes and beans and carrots.
Living in a hotel has it's good and bad sides: If something's wrong, you always have someone to blame it on:
- Wireless slow? Hotel's fault.
- Dirt accumulates in room? Blame it on housekeeping.
- Housekeeping always shows up when you're naked etc, so you send them away and nothing gets done? Incompetent fools!
Must start cooking now. Why chicken? We all remember Rosewood in Beverly Hills Cop I, and how he tells Taggert about all the undigested red meat in the average American. Do you want to be that American? I surely don't. The way out: Chicken. There you go.
Living in a hotel has it's good and bad sides: If something's wrong, you always have someone to blame it on:
- Wireless slow? Hotel's fault.
- Dirt accumulates in room? Blame it on housekeeping.
- Housekeeping always shows up when you're naked etc, so you send them away and nothing gets done? Incompetent fools!
Must start cooking now. Why chicken? We all remember Rosewood in Beverly Hills Cop I, and how he tells Taggert about all the undigested red meat in the average American. Do you want to be that American? I surely don't. The way out: Chicken. There you go.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Drag me to Hell
This is a very nice little movie in the history of Evil Dead. Completely hilarious and at the same time scary. So forget about Angels & Demons and all the other crap playing and see Sam Raimi bring the vomiting witch back to the big screen. It's worth it.
(By the way: I couldn't believe the ticket prices here: 11 bucks for 2? Let's go in twice! Of course we then spent all the saved cash on popcorn and stuff.)
(By the way: I couldn't believe the ticket prices here: 11 bucks for 2? Let's go in twice! Of course we then spent all the saved cash on popcorn and stuff.)
Bye Bye Beard. It's been nice.
So: Farewell, facial hair.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Follow up on Frozen Pizza
I ate the Cheeseburger-Pizza. Let's put it this way:
Eating it was a task appointed to me, and if I hadn't found a way, no one would have.
The pizza indeed tasted different. Like crap. It was the worst pizza ever. I don't even wanna know what exactly I've just eaten. Weird orange cheese? Strange little meat-pellets that strongly reminded me of mouse droppings?
It was the most artificial flavour in this world.
What have I learned from this:
Never ever, even if Hell freezes over, buy a cheeseburger-flavoured pizza.
Eating it was a task appointed to me, and if I hadn't found a way, no one would have.
The pizza indeed tasted different. Like crap. It was the worst pizza ever. I don't even wanna know what exactly I've just eaten. Weird orange cheese? Strange little meat-pellets that strongly reminded me of mouse droppings?
It was the most artificial flavour in this world.
What have I learned from this:
Never ever, even if Hell freezes over, buy a cheeseburger-flavoured pizza.
Frozen Pizza & Other Bargains
Frozen Pizza:
Two or three days ago I found frozen pizzas (485 g) for 2.99 each plus tax. Oh baby, I thought, frozen pizzas! This week's food-hunting is done! There was even a woman with a little grill sitting next to the frozen pizzas, offering pieces to costumers. I grabbed 5 pizzas, one Veggie, one Salami, one Hawaii, one Cheeseburger, one Deluxe. They come wrapped in plastic, with some circle-shaped cardboard below for stability. Here's what happened then:
1. The checkout guy charged me 3.99 per pizza. Fucker. Humble as I am I went back to the Lady to confirm 2.99. Then I confronted the checkout guy. He instantly turned mute and it took him a felt eternity to scribble here and there and type cryptic numbers into his machine (the line of costumers waiting for service grew longer and longer). Meanwhile I tried a bottle of orange vitamin-enriched water I had also bought, for reasons that are now hardly reconstructable. I almost barfed. The costumers exchanged glances. I felt uncomfortable and strangely out of place. Then the guy turned around. Without a word he handed my 5 bucks. I quickly left the store.
2. Back home I was hungry, so I put the Deluxe into the oven and then busied myself with other things. Of course time flew by and I burned the pizza, but I bravely ate the dark brown frisbee. The flavour was alright.
3. The next day I hate the Veggie, which tasted exactly the same. Later I also ate the one with salami, which tasted exactly the same.
4. Today I ate the Hawaii. I chose it because reading Cheeseburger on the other one made me feel a little, uhm, suspicious. It was not the time for adventure or experiment. The Hawaii by the way tasted exactly like the other ones.
5. Tomorrow or later today I will eat the Cheeseburger. I now feel more confident about it, because I can safely conclude that the probability of acceptable flavour is quite high. I expect it to taste just like the other ones.
First Conclusions from all this:
1. Always check your receipts.
2. Make your own food from scratch. Reasons: a) It tastes better. b) You'll live longer.
Other Bargains:
None, really. I got myself a new razor. Mach 3 Turbo*. Paid 12 bucks for it. Could have picked the Sensor Excel, but the mid-nineties design and only two blades kind of dissuaded me. Could have picked the Mach 3, but why go without the Turbo if it's only 1 buck more?
Dispite the kind of anachronistic late-nineties-design I feel like I can drive this thing. Or fly to the moon with it. Also back in the day my first razor was a Mach 3. I'm older now, I do the Turbo now. Man, life is great.
*extra blades included: 2
Two or three days ago I found frozen pizzas (485 g) for 2.99 each plus tax. Oh baby, I thought, frozen pizzas! This week's food-hunting is done! There was even a woman with a little grill sitting next to the frozen pizzas, offering pieces to costumers. I grabbed 5 pizzas, one Veggie, one Salami, one Hawaii, one Cheeseburger, one Deluxe. They come wrapped in plastic, with some circle-shaped cardboard below for stability. Here's what happened then:
1. The checkout guy charged me 3.99 per pizza. Fucker. Humble as I am I went back to the Lady to confirm 2.99. Then I confronted the checkout guy. He instantly turned mute and it took him a felt eternity to scribble here and there and type cryptic numbers into his machine (the line of costumers waiting for service grew longer and longer). Meanwhile I tried a bottle of orange vitamin-enriched water I had also bought, for reasons that are now hardly reconstructable. I almost barfed. The costumers exchanged glances. I felt uncomfortable and strangely out of place. Then the guy turned around. Without a word he handed my 5 bucks. I quickly left the store.
2. Back home I was hungry, so I put the Deluxe into the oven and then busied myself with other things. Of course time flew by and I burned the pizza, but I bravely ate the dark brown frisbee. The flavour was alright.
3. The next day I hate the Veggie, which tasted exactly the same. Later I also ate the one with salami, which tasted exactly the same.
4. Today I ate the Hawaii. I chose it because reading Cheeseburger on the other one made me feel a little, uhm, suspicious. It was not the time for adventure or experiment. The Hawaii by the way tasted exactly like the other ones.
5. Tomorrow or later today I will eat the Cheeseburger. I now feel more confident about it, because I can safely conclude that the probability of acceptable flavour is quite high. I expect it to taste just like the other ones.
First Conclusions from all this:
1. Always check your receipts.
2. Make your own food from scratch. Reasons: a) It tastes better. b) You'll live longer.
Other Bargains:
None, really. I got myself a new razor. Mach 3 Turbo*. Paid 12 bucks for it. Could have picked the Sensor Excel, but the mid-nineties design and only two blades kind of dissuaded me. Could have picked the Mach 3, but why go without the Turbo if it's only 1 buck more?
Dispite the kind of anachronistic late-nineties-design I feel like I can drive this thing. Or fly to the moon with it. Also back in the day my first razor was a Mach 3. I'm older now, I do the Turbo now. Man, life is great.
*extra blades included: 2
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
A thing that annoys me about google
1. My computer was bought in a foreign country. For some reason Google Search prefers non-english result pages from that country even if I explicitly choose the country where I am now as a region and English as the preferred language.
2. Also it prefers US websites over others, even if I explicitly do not choose the US as a region.
Result: Frustration.
And why the fuck does Gmail remember me and Blogger does not? It's the same fucking account!
I am annoyed and angry.
I have to calm down.
Everything will be alright.
Relax, man. relax.
2. Also it prefers US websites over others, even if I explicitly do not choose the US as a region.
Result: Frustration.
And why the fuck does Gmail remember me and Blogger does not? It's the same fucking account!
I am annoyed and angry.
I have to calm down.
Everything will be alright.
Relax, man. relax.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Follow up on yesterday's observations
1. Went to Hooters, had a beer and a Philly Cheese Steak Sandwich with potato salad. The waitresses were all younger than me and were wearing orange hot pants and white or black shirts. Various TV-screens were showing three tv programs: sports, pimp my ride and more sports. Background music: Bryan Adams, Guns n'Roses and other tunes of the same caliber. The walls were wooden and covered with pictures of actual and former waitresses in orange hot pants and white or black shirts. Their asses are quite visible through the hot pants, their lower fronts however are cleverly hidden by some kind of belt bag containing waitress equipment. Breast sizes varied a lot. The food was surprisingly good, especially the potato salad. Overall I felt weirdly uncomfortable, so I finished eating and I left.
(Almost entered the Toys'R'Us right next door. Imagined family-fathers: "Go on into the toy store, son. Daddy is just gonna get his weekly dose of cleavage at the Hooters." - By the way: What I saw there today didn't make me hoot. Maybe I chose the wrong table. Damn.)
Is one supposed to stare at the waitresses? Will they react angry if one drools on them? Are they used to that? How does the concept of much female flesh showing goes together with eating lunch? Why do men bring women and eat with them? Or is it one of those you-get-used-to-it-things, no big deal, and after a while it becomes completely normal to stare at asses while munching burgers... that's probably it. But it doesn't quite come together for me.
Conclusion:
For food go to restaurant that has tableclothes and no tv. Bring partner.
For ass and other flesh go to live-performance club in Amsterdam. Good beer there, too. Bring partner, too.
2. HD-Wraparounds. They look so good on TV. Found them today in a store. Fuck HD, it's cheap plastic that get's easily scratched. Easily wearable on top of prescription-glasses? Fuck that, too:
a) you see the prescription glasses under them which makes you look like a dork
b) the HD's are freaking huge which makes you look like a dork
c) they come in pedophile-light-brown which makes you look like a pedophile
d) they come in yellow which also doesn't help
Conclusion: They suck.
Attention pedophiles: Maybe now that GM shuts down they'll give you a pair of HD's for free if you buy a van. Didn't you pray to your god for that?
3. Maybe the Conservative Party fears Ignatieff might bring word to this country that:
a) coalitions work just fine (they do it in europe all the time) and
b) that a proportional election system might actually really represent what the public votes for. Just an afterthought.
4. I totally didn't buy frozen pizza today although I had the chance. Fuck me! Now I want one and can't get one.
5. Being alone in a hotel room sucks. Repeat 'til succesful spin-in-head accomplished.
6. Today some poor homeless guy without teeth asked me for 40 cents. He did that right in front of the hotel. Nothing wrong with that so far, I gave him some change. But, and because I just wrote number 5 I remember it, he did it right the very moment when I said byebye and interupted us. After handing over some coins the doors of the van were already closed and the coda of my goodbye-ing (which was supposed to be a symphony in itself) was reduced to some window-knocking-bye-bye-waving insufficient crap. Result: Goto 5 and intensify emotion.
Hope he bought himself something nice.
7. Thanks for commenting. Will comment back, sometime in the future.
(Almost entered the Toys'R'Us right next door. Imagined family-fathers: "Go on into the toy store, son. Daddy is just gonna get his weekly dose of cleavage at the Hooters." - By the way: What I saw there today didn't make me hoot. Maybe I chose the wrong table. Damn.)
Is one supposed to stare at the waitresses? Will they react angry if one drools on them? Are they used to that? How does the concept of much female flesh showing goes together with eating lunch? Why do men bring women and eat with them? Or is it one of those you-get-used-to-it-things, no big deal, and after a while it becomes completely normal to stare at asses while munching burgers... that's probably it. But it doesn't quite come together for me.
Conclusion:
For food go to restaurant that has tableclothes and no tv. Bring partner.
For ass and other flesh go to live-performance club in Amsterdam. Good beer there, too. Bring partner, too.
2. HD-Wraparounds. They look so good on TV. Found them today in a store. Fuck HD, it's cheap plastic that get's easily scratched. Easily wearable on top of prescription-glasses? Fuck that, too:
a) you see the prescription glasses under them which makes you look like a dork
b) the HD's are freaking huge which makes you look like a dork
c) they come in pedophile-light-brown which makes you look like a pedophile
d) they come in yellow which also doesn't help
Conclusion: They suck.
Attention pedophiles: Maybe now that GM shuts down they'll give you a pair of HD's for free if you buy a van. Didn't you pray to your god for that?
3. Maybe the Conservative Party fears Ignatieff might bring word to this country that:
a) coalitions work just fine (they do it in europe all the time) and
b) that a proportional election system might actually really represent what the public votes for. Just an afterthought.
4. I totally didn't buy frozen pizza today although I had the chance. Fuck me! Now I want one and can't get one.
5. Being alone in a hotel room sucks. Repeat 'til succesful spin-in-head accomplished.
6. Today some poor homeless guy without teeth asked me for 40 cents. He did that right in front of the hotel. Nothing wrong with that so far, I gave him some change. But, and because I just wrote number 5 I remember it, he did it right the very moment when I said byebye and interupted us. After handing over some coins the doors of the van were already closed and the coda of my goodbye-ing (which was supposed to be a symphony in itself) was reduced to some window-knocking-bye-bye-waving insufficient crap. Result: Goto 5 and intensify emotion.
Hope he bought himself something nice.
7. Thanks for commenting. Will comment back, sometime in the future.
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