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The other day, after an involved discussion of whether I was talking about Wild Palms, and why wasn't that a David Lynch flick, and spending a lot of time on Netflix going "Wow, this is not the movie I thought it was; all I remember is the hippo in the bathtub and the karaoke scene, and Angie Dickenson being terrifying ... where did all this come from?" that segued naturally into a discussion of David Lynch as a whole, I found myself looking at a website that reveals top movie twist endings, to find out just what the fuck happened in Mulholland Drive. Or possibly Mulholland Falls. Whichever one David Lynch did.
The explanation didn't make sense either. I guess they were only two people? Or maybe they were all four only one person?
Some of the theoretically-great movies I find overrated (or in some cases actively hate): Taxi Driver, Wild Palms, Brazil, Pulp Fiction, and anything made by Woody Allen.
On the other hand, no one understands my pain about Twist, or 37 Uses For A Dead Sheep, or C.R.A.Z.Y., or Son of A Lion, or Breathless (srsly, BEST. MOVIE. EVER.), so I will feel free to reside in my tower of video superiority and mock people who think "complicated plot that makes no sense (or Woody Allen, or time-travelling movie tropes)" make really good movies, rather than the obvious, which is that movies in a foreign language that have totally un-understandable symbology and non-obvious endings are better movies. Even though one of the movies on that list was in English.
Do not poke me with a stick about this, either, because if you do, I will spend the next two days of your life discoursing on the comparative thematic similarities between The Secret of the Grain, Tengri: Blue Heavens, and Free Floating, with occasional exegeses on Snijeg and Frozen River, and forty minutes on fuck Plan 9 From Outer Space, To Get To Heaven First You Have To Die is the worst movie ever made.
No one wants this, least of all you. And by that, I mean, I would relish the opportunity, but trust me, you don't want to spend 48 hours in my company, with your hands tied to the back of the chair and toothpicks holding your eyes open, watching me stride up and down in my Napoleon uniform, bitching about movies no one's ever heard of. I, of course, would love this.
Unrelatedly, I have the desire to go buy something, but I'm not sure what that something should be. I can't decide between tech-toys, clothes, music, toys-toys, or something else. Though I did buy three books yesterday, so that urge is kind of muted right now. I don't know, I feel like I should be able to think of SOMETHING.
The explanation didn't make sense either. I guess they were only two people? Or maybe they were all four only one person?
Some of the theoretically-great movies I find overrated (or in some cases actively hate): Taxi Driver, Wild Palms, Brazil, Pulp Fiction, and anything made by Woody Allen.
On the other hand, no one understands my pain about Twist, or 37 Uses For A Dead Sheep, or C.R.A.Z.Y., or Son of A Lion, or Breathless (srsly, BEST. MOVIE. EVER.), so I will feel free to reside in my tower of video superiority and mock people who think "complicated plot that makes no sense (or Woody Allen, or time-travelling movie tropes)" make really good movies, rather than the obvious, which is that movies in a foreign language that have totally un-understandable symbology and non-obvious endings are better movies. Even though one of the movies on that list was in English.
Do not poke me with a stick about this, either, because if you do, I will spend the next two days of your life discoursing on the comparative thematic similarities between The Secret of the Grain, Tengri: Blue Heavens, and Free Floating, with occasional exegeses on Snijeg and Frozen River, and forty minutes on fuck Plan 9 From Outer Space, To Get To Heaven First You Have To Die is the worst movie ever made.
No one wants this, least of all you. And by that, I mean, I would relish the opportunity, but trust me, you don't want to spend 48 hours in my company, with your hands tied to the back of the chair and toothpicks holding your eyes open, watching me stride up and down in my Napoleon uniform, bitching about movies no one's ever heard of. I, of course, would love this.
Unrelatedly, I have the desire to go buy something, but I'm not sure what that something should be. I can't decide between tech-toys, clothes, music, toys-toys, or something else. Though I did buy three books yesterday, so that urge is kind of muted right now. I don't know, I feel like I should be able to think of SOMETHING.
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Buy a plane ticket to SF for Monday. Bring chloroform.
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AHAHAHA, for $320, I could do it and practically not miss work the next morning. Shit, I'd be on the ground for less than 12 hours; all you need at that point is a toothbrush.
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Also, while waiting for TAI to come out after the show last year, I totally saw one of the bouncers go out into the alley and rather obviously do drugs, so there's that.
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And see, this time we have an in! You distract him with the jacket, I'll loom up out of the darkness (he is like totally pocket-sized to me) and clamp the chloroform over his mouth and then we'll leave an obvious trail to a trap to get the rest of them.
I believe that musicians are somewhat like Pokemon, yes.
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He's taller than me. To me that is pocket sized to no one (except maybe Dan, Greg, and Josh Homme). Their substitute guitarist on the other hand, was pocketsized and bouncy.
I demand that we also set a trap for their openers, because they are all unfairly good looking and would be very decorative.
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To be fair to my coworkers, the main band they did that with was composed of minors, so that was more the criteria, but, you know. All killjoys. Particularly the part about shouting at me to come look at Gerard in his dripping-wet shirt, should that plan have ever been put into action.
And when you say decorative, I'm thinking we should get some vases or something. Something for them to hold. It always classes the joint up, having people standing around holding things. Why buy nails when you can trap rockstars?
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Hahahahaha well, that's different than just saying NO CAN HAZ. Especially if a dripping wet Gerard is in play.
I was thinking tight black jeans, collars, and trays of delicious snacks. Does this work for you?
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I like your idea with the jeans and collars and delicious snacks, and would like to subscribe to your newsletter. Who is the opening band, anyway? (I am that lazy, yes.)
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Domminnation.com has videos.
DUDE. You're TALL. I am in awe. I am very much used to being the tallest girl in a group. Let's steal us some men and make them serve us delicious snacks from shiny trays while wearing nothing but form-fitting denim. Devine can type our newsletter for us.
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I'm ... used to being the tallest person in a group? This plan is sounding like the Fug Girls and Intern George gone SO RIGHT.
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This is the best plan ever. Clearly we cannot fail and will take over the world with our harem of band guys and our sassy newsletter of pornography, sarcasm, and grammar nazism.
I will not admit how much time I have already spent trying to figure out what to wear on Monday. It might be a little pathetic.
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Wait, wait, what is the release date? I can't find it online - did they announce it at the show?
I am preemptively christening Mat "Intern Mat".
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I think he mentioned something, for some reason I have mid-September stuck in my head and the name "Wake the Sleepers" or something of that ilk.
I like this name. This is a good name. It may even be better than Stokholm Mat.
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The outfit sounds cool! I think that Intern Mat should be the code phrase for Stockholm Syndrome. I think in private, he should just be Stockholm Syndrome, personally.
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Intern Mat it is.
I finished my hat! Tomorrow I'll have pictures, if I can get a patch for it. It's grey with red stripes, slouchy and just a little too big for me and matches my shirts for the show. Here's hoping my creepy devious scheme works.
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Cannot wait for pics! Also, if you find yourself in possession of anyone you'd like to remove from the scene of the crime, I can be to SF in about 18 hrs.
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Semi-decent pictures will be up tonight, really good ones should go up tomorrow afternoon before I head out. If all goes according to plan there will be at least one picture of Intern Mat wearing it tomorrow night.
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friendsbastardsuh, they were friends at the time. They tended to forget I was there, and the overall effect was a rather disturbing one of being invisble but bruisable. A wider range of heights in a group keeps eyelines moving and elbows out of my face. :)I have now added Wild Palms to my rental queue because, hippo in a bathtub, what?
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If anyone can handle a drag queen, they can handle me in 6" heels. I wouldn't even be seven feet tall at that point! That said, I get where you're coming from, and totally empathise, though I can't say anyone's ever hit me in the face with an elbow.
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I have so much respect for folks who can handle six-inch heels. Five-inch heels with a one-inch platform is the best I can manage, so far. I have been training!
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That reminds me, I heard tell of a Stiletto Sprint with a prize of ten thousand dollars. I must find this and participate. It sounds AWESOME.
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I think I'd buy one pair of Christian Louboutins then blow the rest on stripper shoes, towering goth platforms, Chucks, stompy boots and brogues.
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PLAID YESSS. AND SKULLS.
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