This Isn't About The Hangover, But Here's a Picture of the Movie Anyway to Make This Post More Readable

I was at Target last night, trying to find a fucking copy of The Hangover, which, by the way, is not a movie worth the effort of scouring an entire valley to find. The great thing (note: sarcasm) about living in a small valley is that many stores don't receive as many shipments as they would, say, in the city -- as such, you've got to put a little more "oomph" into your search than normal. We don't even have any normal movie-rental places. So, you're Indiana Jones, and you're traversing deadly, icy streets and dodging oncoming deer to finally discover a copy of a sacred film where four dudes get in some deep shit in Vegas.

But surprisingly, this worthless block of words isn't about The Hangover, no sir; instead, it's going to be a short analysis of how my mind functions in an otherwise normal situation. Here's the dealio: we're at Target, we've gotten our Sacred Cow of a Movie, and we're standing in line. Pretty normal. To point out that, hey, I'm pretty broke and I really shouldn't be buying anything, let alone a movie I probably am not going to like all that much, I make this comment about how I'm from Aspen and can afford every little item that may come into contact with my well-manicured fingertips. I try to say this with a posh-British accent, hoping to get some sort of reaction.

I get a reaction, but not the one I was expecting.

"Well, aren't you pretty snobby."

This comes from the cashier, who's currently checking out the people in front of us. I turn, looking deep into her eyes, trying to figure out whether she's serious or not. Oh, she's pretty fucking serious, you can tell by the look on her face. My friend, fortunately, says, "Oh, he's not really from Aspen."

No response from Miss Priss.

I'm pretty dumbfounded at this point, because a) who takes anything seriously these days when you've got the fucking Terminator in office and b) I could set fire to a pile of fresh dog shit in the middle of the store and nobody would notice, I'm that inconspicuous. Anything I say is dust in the wind.

Long story short, the cashier has someone take over for her before she can ring us up, she walks away, and we leave.

It's not that great of a story, really, especially not one to write about. Thing is, I wasn't really angry that this person whom I had never met was calling me out on something that actually wasn't true, no -- I felt guilty because my performance wasn't up to snuff. Normally, you can tell when I'm being sarcastic, but here was this person who did not know that some dumb comment I made was actually, truly falsified. I am not from Aspen! I do not have a Bently sitting in my garage! I don't speak in a posh-British accent! I don't need a monocle to see clearly through my left eye!

More than anything, I wanted to apologize to her because I hadn't given her my best. Otherwise, she would have been in hysterics about how funny the entire I-have-no-money-yet-I'm-buying-this-completely-overrated-movie situation was. It's pretty funny! It's not, but still. Why so serious?

P.S. -- I Wuv You, Target! Thank you for relieving me of such undignified greenery!

"In Bruges" Review!

I wish I had an idea about how many blogs are updated daily, each one probably concerning some piece of media or world event (Jesus, people, enough with the Sarah Palin crap already!) -- most are probably not very well-written (perhaps...like this blog?) and occasionally unintelligible. For example: "ilkiek teh new batmn movie heath leger man i wish taht guy didnt die he was soooooo00 good totlly shold win a oscar for taht role and i like teh mvoei vary much liek wen tehjoker was in the truck an btaman used teh rope t flip teh truck o man ti was sooooooo cool!!!"

Uh-huh.

Personally -- and I don't know about you, dear non-existent reader -- but I don't really want to read what random people on the internet think about films or movies or Sarah Palin. It doesn't really benefit me in the long run, know what I mean? I could scrounge through millions of posts and maybe, just maybe, absorb only a couple of useful morsels of tasty information. What's new, right? In this case, it's somewhat ironic that you, dear non-existent reader, are reading (or perhaps skimming over the rubbish) about what I think about what other people think about...things. Absolute lunacy, I know. But, since you're here and still reading (I mean, come on -- still?!), let me fill you in on my opinion of the film, In Bruges (starring COLIN FARREL(!), BRENDAN GLEESON(!!), and RALPH FIENNES(!!!) no less!):

I just watched this film last night. It was good. Go see it.

The World-Saving Idea (Part 2)

Essentially, the film details the extraordinary life of a dude with a porta-potty time machine. He orders it from Ebay and uses it to correct his numerous past mistakes that ultimately led up to a broken relationship with his girlfriend. After traveling through time and attempting to mend the relationship along with his broken heart, everything he does just seems to make the situation worse. Finally, he gives up. In the end, the viewer finds out that the porta-potty was actually just a porta-potty, and the protagonist was an idiot to believe in time-travel in the first place.

This idea was supposed to save the world.

It didn't.

Surprise, surprise.

The World-Saving Idea

My film teacher in college once famously told me never to begin a movie-in-the-making with the protagonist hitting a buzzing alarm clock -- he said that most film connoisseurs will immediately frown upon this opening and shun it like rancid gravy.

Funny he should say this, I thought at the time.

While we were still in high school, my friends and I took a class called "Media Empowerment" and one of the requirements was to create a short film that was entertaining but ultimately conveyed some sort of message to its audience. When you get right down to it, brainstorming was a bitch. None of the people in my group had something they wanted to say (well, important to say anyways) and neither did I -- nothing in the world affected me in such a manner as to inspire me to get up on a soapbox and shout at the top of my lungs. I could talk about the "illegal immigrant" issue, but that was a horse that had been beaten to something beyond death; the Iraq War, well, that was even more unoriginal than talking about Mexicans who cross borders.

Smartass that I was, I presented the idea that I was too apathetic to care about any world issue, and maybe I should create a film based on the theme of apathy and how it was effecting the U.S. population. The problem with this was that I, in fact, was apathetic and didn't really want to make a movie in the first place.

Ah. Well. That doesn't exactly cut it, now does it?

Why should you care, dear nonexistent reader of this blog that nobody reads? Well, my friends came up with a brilliant movie idea that might possibly save the world today. Hunger would be quenched, poverty would vanish, and I would cease to be apathetic if the idea was spread.

Yes, it was that good.

However, the film began with a guy hitting his goddamn alarm clock.

To be continued!