Tom Cruise is nuts. Because the internet says so.
Elvis in King Creole. Pippi Longstocking.
LONG WEEKEND RECAP
FRIDAY
I took the day off work. I had no real reason to do so. I just needed a day off to relax. Of course, I still had WORK to do from home, but it was still more relaxing to work on film stuff at home in my jammies than to do work-work at the office.
That night, B-Rex was having his birthday party. He had a BBQ dinner at his girlfriend’s house first, but I talked it over with the Troika and we just couldn’t seem to figure out a painless way of getting to West Seattle during rush hour. We opted, instead, to meet them at the War Room later. The War Room is a new club/bar that opened up in a building that used to be a gay bar. Meep and I called it the Elk Lodge because that’s precisely what it looks like from the outside. (It didn’t used to look like an Elk Lodge. It used to have an entirely white exterior. Now it’s all wood). Plus, there is no name on it so we didn’t know what else to call it. We were excited to see what it would be like on the inside. We gussied up and got there early (around 8) in an attempt to secure seats on the roof-top deck. Well, being a new bar with a mysteriously nameless exterior and a prime Capital Hill location, the roof-deck was already completely packed. We opted to reserve a nice, expansive booth in the empty downstairs section. We were surrounded by art deco pictures of Nixon, Mao and Lennon (not John). The motif was nice. The drinks had names like “The Iron Curtain” and there were $3 well and $2 beer specials until 9 so we felt optimistic. (Even though Meep and I did get scolded by a bouncer for putting our feet on what definitely looked like a foot stool to us. Apparently, it was just a very low, small table). A D.J. showed up and started playing Hall and Oates so our optimism rocketed ever skyward. The Birthday Gang was running late. They sounded like they were having a great time in West Seattle and we were sad to be missing out but our absence served the seat-saving function so we reconciled. I continued to drink bottom shelf vodka and sprites, completely forgetting the fact that I’m not supposed to do things like that anymore. Meep downed several High Life’s. Around 10:00, the Birthday Gang showed up. The birthday boy in question was appropriately hammered. We have several hilarious pictures of him opening his card and birthday present from us. (For the record, a G.I. Joe-themed card and a home-made t-shirt depicting his face on Godzilla’s body…Gafzilla; His nickname from the “Snow Day” shoot and for the rest of his life). By then, the place was PACKED and the DJ was playing less enjoyable music. I did some chair dancing and some people tried to get me to get up and dance, despite making fun of my extremely white lack of rhythm. No thank you. Here’s where things start to get blurry. One by one, the people at our table decided to trickle upstairs to the roof deck to enjoy the sardine-like standing room only situation. This was in no way appealing to Meep and me so we stayed until the very last. It wasn’t until we realized that we were sitting in the corner of a booth full of people we didn’t know, that we decided to concede. By now I had lost track of how many dirty vodka drinks I’d had and was feeling pretty, well, shnockered. We headed upstairs to find our friends who seemed perfectly happy to be standing shoulder to shoulder yelling conversations at one another. It was then that I realized that I was having a “paranoid” drunk. This doesn’t happen too often. But then again, I don’t normally drink cheap booze…anymore… The cacophony of the crowd was deafening and I was definitely starting to feel the walls closing in on me. I decided that I had to leave right then and there. So out I went, with Meep behind me. Problem was, I didn’t say goodbye to anyone, and Meep didn’t know what I was doing or where I was going. When she followed me outside, she couldn’t get back in without paying a $5 cover (which starts after 10), and she was PISSED at me. And rightly so. It took a little work on her part but eventually she got me to explain that I was feeling claustrophobic and had to leave. She called Borgia and explained everything and we went back to her house for a QUIET nightcap. Guess what…I didn’t need a nightcap.
SATURDAY
Man. From time to time, there comes a point in your night when you’ve had so much bad alcohol that the standard two pints of water before bed will do you NO good. This was one of those times. I was in PAAAAIIIIN. Luckily, I had few responsibilities that day. I rested until around 1 and then got ready to go have lunch with my friend Kristie from college. She lives in D.C. now with her husband and about twice a year, she comes back West to visit her family. She has such a big family that she spends the whole time driving around Washington visiting them and only has a meal’s worth of time to hang with me. This was my meal. We went to Sushi Land in Queen Anne to gorge ourselves on gastronomical proportions of conveyor belt sushi. As much fun as the conveyor belt is, the sushi isn’t really that good there. But the green tea is free and you can’t get sick from bad vegetarian sushi, so I was ok. Kristie, her husband Ben, Dom and I had a leisurely lunch and then went next door to Ladro for a post-meal cuppa. The conversation was top notch, as usual and I always find myself very sad at the end of these whirlwind visits. Kristie and Ben are super cool and we always have a lot to talk about, despite only seeing each other bi-annually.
On our way back, I asked Dom if I could drive his car. I haven’t driven ANY car since I sold my Volvo 3 years ago. I never much cared for driving. I’m not good at it. I don’t enjoy it. But there are times when a person needs to drive so I figured I should put in some practice just in case Dom is incapacitated for whatever reason and I need to drive his car. Maybe there are some bad guys chasing us. Maybe it’s slow-moving lava from Mt. St. Helens. I don’t know. These things happen. Anyway, he foolishly agreed to let me at it. I plunked down in the driver’s seat, pulled the seat way forward to accommodate my short legs, adjusted the side mirror and went to adjust the rear-view. It didn’t move so I pulled just a LITTLE bit harder and SNAP. It came off in my goddamned hand. From the look of it, it seemed like we should be able to just snap it right back on again. Dom pushed. Nothing. He pushed a little harder. CRAACK! The windshield under the mirror mount fanned out into 5 spidery cracks. Fuck. Well, I told Dom I owed him a new windshield. Which I can definitely afford right now. I’ll just have to put off buying that amusement park. I took the whole situation as a bad omen and I re-claimed my rightful place in the passenger’s seat. But Dom still didn’t have a rear view mirror. Now it’s uselessly duct taped on and we still don’t understand why it’s not just snapping back on. Sigh.
When we got home, we rested for a while and then got ready for the Brunswick’s Blacklight Party/Roxy’s Birthday/Roxys Going Away Party.
I was still pretty damned hung over and decided that drinking was not a good idea. Instead I made some phone calls and scored myself a little green for the night. The Brunswicks had moved all their furniture to the side and rented several HUGE black lights for the night. Throughout the night, guests brought glow-in-the-dark goodies and everyone drew on themselves with highlighters. It was all very cool. You can see pictures here. You would think that it would be impossible to take a good blacklight photo, but some of them really did turn out pretty well. Except for the part where apparently NOBODY looks attractive under blacklights. Blech.
SUNDAY
Ah…nothing like waking up without a hangover! Thank you, nature! I did some work around the house and got ready to go to yoga. I was feeling pretty good and definitely ready to sweat and work hard inside the sweltering yoga studio. As I sauntered up to the door, I got a sinking feeling that I should have checked the holiday schedule on line before walking over there. I was right. They canceled the 4:00 class. I walked as fast as I could on the way home to get my heart rate up and then launched straight into living room yoga which is more painful and not as effective, for some reason.
That evening, we had planned to hit Sunday karaoke at Jalisco for Jef’s birthday (so many July birthdays!). Right as we were leaving, Jef called and said that the karaoke was canceled so the party was moving to Ozzie’s. The Troika are not fans of Ozzie’s. We always found it to be waaaaay too meat-markety for our tastes. But we hadn’t been there for quite some time and it was Jef’s birthday so we were willing to give it a go. When we walked in, we were surprised to find that it had been converted into some weird cross between a Shoney’s, a Farrell’s and a (surprise) frat house. It was replete with an ice cream window! It was pretty empty when we first got there and there was even a charming, pipe-smoking old man in the corner perusing the karaoke song books so we thought it might not be so bad. But then the bachelorette party showed up. And then everybody else showed up. By the time Meep and I made our first trip to the bathroom, we had to wade through a gauntlette of cat-calling meat men. Every time we turned around, one of the guys we were with was being threatened by some testosterone-crazed white hat. The karaoke song choices were mostly awful and we decided to leave as soon as we finished singing the songs we'd put in. There were a few gems. Jef did a bang-up job with “kiss” by Prince. Dom and my old apartment manager showed up to sing the hell out of “Poison” by Bell Biv Devo. A spot-on impressionist of Robbie Williams did “Angels” (and afterward was all the rage with the ladies). But we had to sit through the WORST version of Bon Jovi's “Bad Name” I've ever heard, among other fratty standards I'm repressing. We couldn't get out there soon enough and all of us vowed never to return. Of course, I had to be the one to forget something. Just when Borgia was speeding us away from hell, I realized I'd forgotten my glasses case which contained my favorite, irreplaceable sunglasses. I had to go back. Borgia dropped me on the corner and I queued up to get back in. As soon as I was cleared by the doorman, I pushed through an oblivious wall of people and found my glasses case. I bolted for the door and ran across the street to where Borgia had parallel parked. Apparently, his parking job was not without incident. When pulling in, he had lightly tapped the bumper of the car behind him. Of course, the drunk, burly owner of the car was across the street waiting to get in to Ozzie’s. He ran across the street with his more sensible girlfriend after him and demanded that Borgia get out of the car. Borgia refused and instead locked the door. Apparently, after his girlfriend calmed him down a bit, he stopped trying to call Borgia out. I returned and got in the car, and both he and his girlfriend watched like a HAWK as we pulled away. RIDICULOUS. Also, NEVER GOING BACK.
MONDAY
The fourth! I slept in and was surprisingly unaffected by the many margaritas from the previous night. A stupidly last minute trip to the grocery store and the Troika was on its way to Borgia's house in Fremont for the obligatory BBQ. It was blazing hot and I'm REALLY glad we decided to buy sunscreen at the store. We played some trivial pursuit, ate WAAAAAY too much, watched a terrifically bad 1979 sci-fi movie (thanks to Elyse and Gene) called The Shape of Things to Come (starring a perpetually grizzled Jack Palance), and later, watched fireworks. Fun fun fun! Until, of course, it came time to drive home. It took us an HOUR to get from Fremont to Capital Hill because the cops had LITERALLY blocked off every single left turn so that everyone had to sit in the gridlock on Fairview. Why, no one knows. So we didn't get home till after 12:30 on a school night. STOOOPID.
Spoiler Town
AAAAAARG! On the bus on the way home, a well-meaning Joss Geek noticed the Serenity patch on my satchel and asked if I'd seen the movie. I told him no and before I could say that I didn't want to know ANYTHING, he let a mild spoiler slip. I won't say what it was because I don't want to spread the bad ju-ju but needless to say it was the hint of a doozy and now I can't stop thinking about it. This is why I don't talk to strangers!!!
gender blender
Many of these are effed up but some are more convincing than others. Jamie Lee Curtis is hilarious and I kinda have a crush on girly-boy Lucy Liu. Christian Bale looks like Weird Al!
This is all wrong
| Your Virgo Drinking Style |
 Hey brainiac, you are compelled to impose order onto your bender.Your famously fussy quest for purity could lead to drinking less than other signs, sure… But it could also lead to drinking booze neatly (like sucking down organic wine or having extreme brand loyalty). You rarely get fully shellacked — but, oh, when you do! Virgo's controlled by the intellect, but there's an unbridled beast lurking within, and they let it loose when walloped. It's dead sexy (and surprisingly unsloppy). As one Virgo friend used to declare, “I'm going to drink myself into a low level of intelligence tonight.” A toast to the subgenius IQ! |
| Your Signature Cocktails |
| Many Virgos prefer clear, simple, untreacly drinks like vodka tonic or a real margarita, though you can be found drinking anything from unflinchingly downing Cuervo straight to smirkingly ordering a dirty virgin. You also tend to like bitter, low-alk guzzles like Campari and soda. However, you rarely change your signature drink once you've found it. |
| Your Celebrity Drinking Buddies |
| Cameron Diaz, Hugh Grant, Keanu Reeves, Nicole Richie, Bill Murray, Jada Pinkett Smith, Adam Sandler, and Ricki Lake. |
Order? Rarely fully shellacked? extreme brand loyalty? I'm loyal to cheap brands by default. But if I could afford the good stuff…well, I'd probably still drink Cook's. So I guess they're right on one count. Being a person that checks the alcohol content on a bottle of wine before committing to it, they are DEFINITELY wrong about the “dirty virgin” thing. But I WOULD like to have a drink with Bill Murray sometime.
Workks Wonder
There is a petition on-line to revoke Tom Cruise's American citizenship. I don't know if they can really do this, but it seems worth a shot. If nothing else, maybe realizing that 50,000 strangers hate him THAT much might knock the crazy right out of him.
by comb be much wop
This morning I had my first dentist appointment in over 3 years. I was really nervous going in because despite not having any mouth pain, a lot can happen in 3 years. Still, I’ve always been pretty lucky with my teeth. They may be yellowed from tea and coffee but I never had to get braces and I’ve only had two cavities in my life. They took 18(!) x-rays of my mouth and scraped the shit out of my gums. They put the fear of Dentist in me by telling me that usually when someone goes that long without a check-up, they will need a “deep-clean” which involves a local anesthetic and an hours worth of extra scraping. They would let me know what the x-rays reveal. THANK YOU TEETH GENES! No deep cleaning for me. I got the usual flossing lecture and they seemed pretty annoyed that I hadn’t been to a dentist in so long (I’ll be damned if I would go to a dentist without insurance. Sorry, guys), but I was outta there, relatively pain-free in under an hour.
Things are very slow at work today. I REALLY miss the internet when it’s slow. This 30-minutes at lunch situation definitely sucks. I am typing this on-the-sly and will upload it at break. However, since I am now in a prison of my own volition, I promise I won’t whinge about work so much. Moving on…
Last night we had a meeting for the upcoming 48-hour film Project for which I am one of the writers. If you aren’t familiar with the project, it goes down thus:
20 or so teams from each city meet on Friday evening at 7 to receive a character, a line of dialog, a prop and a genre. Each team gets a different genre (though there are only 12 options and 24 Seattle teams so we will be doubling up). We then have 48 hours to write, shoot and edit a 4-7 minute film within the given guidelines. The winners receive endless glory and fabulous prizes. There’s not much you can do in a pre-production meeting for a film that you haven’t written yet, but we did our best. We have a general location/group of locations for our arsenal and we can secure some gear. I think it will work out pretty well though. Hell, Faye and I wrote “Retard to Retard” in half an hour after a bottle of wine. Of course, that’s not exactly prize-winning material, but I feel fairly confident. Especially since one of our writers is Jef who wrote the FABULOUS “Future Good” for a previous and similarly-structured contest.
After the meeting, the Troika pondered the premiere of the Stella TV show on Comedy Central. We had gotten free promo DVD’s of the pilot in advance so we decided to just watch that immediately at 8 instead of waiting till 10:30 for the aired version. As we had suspected, Stella feels a little stifled without the rampant comedic use of dildos, dirty jokes and swearing. They also recycled two jokes from their shorts, which is really annoying. But it’s still better than, well, MOST half-hour television that’s on right now. I hope Stella gets a whole new audience and they can move to HBO where they can be all the filthy that they want to be. Later, I found out that some of the more irreverent jokes were actually cut for the aired episode. I hope it was just for time because if not, what gives, Comedy Central?
We also caught the second half of a new hidden camera show that our friend John was on. We missed his part, but luckily, Dom had ghetto tivo’d it so we watched it later in the evening. The show is called “Fire Me…Please!” and the premise is that two “contestants” per half hour get a job for a day and are as annoying and incompetent as possible without doing anything illegal, so that they can get fired as close to 3:00 as possible and win $25,000. Our friend John worked in a smoothie shop and was competing against a guy working in at a dog groomer boutique. The contestants are tipped off about their new “bosses” pet peeves so that they may play against them in order to get fired. It’s an interesting concept and it’s kind of amusing. Obviously, they hired actors to do this so that the show would go according to plan. It’s funny how they still pretend that they AREN’T hiring actors for all these reality shows. They said that our friend was a “waiter from Seattle, WA”. Sure, there’s a partial truth to that. But he moved to L.A. to act. ANYWAY, our friend didn’t win but I think he was infinitely more entertaining that his opponent. He got fired by making evening plans on his cell phone every five minutes and by not memorizing the smoothie ingredients. John was FANTASTIC at being weird and annoying. In the beginning, when his trainer showed him how to make a smoothie, his trainer made scooping noises for emphasis “Bamp [scooping up the berries], Boom [putting berries in blender]”. From that point on, every time John did anything with the ladle, he would say “Bamp, Boom”. At one point, when he was “trying to remember” what went in a smoothie, he drummed loudly on the blender for a good solid MINUTE to jog his memory. Any time he got lectured by his supervisor, he would yawn really big. Those guys wanted him out of there at 10am, but they kept him on till a little after 3, thus costing him the money. I’m not sure if I’d watch the show every week if I didn’t know anyone on it, but it was still fairly entertaining.
his take an cruciform morals
Last night, the Troika went to a book signing by one Mr. Bruce Campbell for his new book “Make Love the Bruce Campbell Way”. We were first treated to a Q & A session wherein Bruce got really annoyed by the usual questions. He even preluded the Q & A by saying he didn’t want anyone to ask about Evil Dead 4 or Freddy vs. Jason vs. Ash. Yet ask they did. Also, many questions were prefaced by “I heard a rumor that…”. “Oh, you heard a rumor? Where? On the internet? Then it MUST be true”, snarked Bruce. After a while, when someone began a question with “I heard a rumor” he would just say “Moving on”. He also went on a tirade about Hollywood drivel saying there are no new ideas and Hollywood wonders why box office sales are declining with films like “Herbie the Love Bug” (“It’s been re-made so many damned times, I’VE even been in a version.”), “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” (“Gene Wilder was funny. Johnny Depp is just WEIRD.”) and “War of the Worlds” (“I don’t care how many times Tom Cruise jumps up and down on Oprah’s couch, I’m not seeing it.”) coming out. He also cited “Batman Begins” as one of these unnecessary pictures. Disagree as I might, about the quality of that film, he does have a point. It’s certainly not a new idea. There were no juicy tidbits to be leaked to Aint It Cool. Just the man himself being himself. Fun stuff. After his Q & A, we got in line based on the numbers on our signing tickets. Thankfully, we had a relatively low number and were actually out of there shortly after 7. Dom held a “Snow Day” DVD in his hand with all of our names on it. We weren’t allowed to dilly dally. We had to have our names inscribed on a post-it before we got up there. We had to remove the book jacket. He wouldn’t pose for pictures but his assistant would take a picture of him writing in our books with us standing over him with our camera. He wouldn’t sign memorabilia. He wasn’t our little monkey. There were lots of rules and as unromantic as that is, it did keep things pretty damned organized. But we WERE allowed to give him gifts, so Dom got up there with our DVD and told him our movie was playing in the San Diego Comic-Con. I think he asked Dom some technical questions about the movie. Book signed. Picture taken. Hand shook. Moving on. Then Faye got up there and he asked her what she did. She said she made the movie that was sitting to his left. More technical questions. Book signed. Picture taken. Moving on. Then I got up there and he said to me “[Looking at post-it note] Are you Jessica?” “Yes I am.” “You’re all gussied up tonight.” “I came from work” said I. “What do you do?” “I’m an administrative assistant… glorified monkey, really. [pointing to the DVD] But I made that movie.” “Oh really? What did you do on it?” “I co-wrote and co-directed it.” “Well then, I’ll see you at the Comic-Con.” Hand shook. Book Signed. Picture taken. Moving on. The whole whirlwind took approximately an hour. The man knows how to run a show. And I thought it went rather well for what it was. Whether or not Mr. Campbell watches the movie, is another story. But he was polite and professional and accepted the movie. We didn’t expect anything more than that and were just pleased as punch to be standing in front of the guy. So yay for us.
Creepy Album Covers!
These are pretty awesome! My favorites are “Ken, by request only” and the rioting baby seal!
apache
WEEKEND RECAP
FRIDAY
A bunch of us went to see the LONG AWAITED new George Romero zombie film “Land of the Dead”. We knew it was going to be cool because it's the man who INVENTED the genre. Still, I was a little worried about there being name actors in the film. I always liked the anonymity of the actors in the other “of the dead” movies. It made the whole situation seem more real. My fears were assuaged early and often. Simon Baker is dashing and dreamy, Asia Argento is the cutest lil Italian prostitute with a machine gun ever. I want to put her in my pocket. Even John Leguizamo was really good. Dennis Hopper, of COURSE, was tremendously amusing. The violence was creative and delightful. The zombies looked cool as hell, and Romero totally sold the whole “smart” zombie thing. There were two really exciting cameos too. The first was that of the endearing “smart” zombie from “Day of the Dead, Bub. The second was Tom Savini. Tom Savini rules. Supposedly, Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright are in there as zombies somewhere too but we didn't see them. It was, after all, a LAND of the dead. And it was really quite a perfect film.
After the movie, Faye, Sherrard and I headed over to Queen Anne for Dan's birthday. He was having an “Iron Curtain” themed party. There were people there dressed in whatever they considered to be european 80's club attire. I rifled through my closet to find something acceptable but Dom told me I looked like Brittany Speares and Faye said I looked like a “Madonna Supporter”. I'm not proud of either of those comparisons. Turns out it didn't matter too much anyway. It was a party and everyone was HAMMERED. Only about half the attendees were in costume. Faye and I saw an old college friend who we were actually happy to see. That so rarely happens. Everyone was in a pretty good mood too. Fun party. The only downer that happened was that a particularly snobby Tacoman decided to make fun of my drunken state by quoting one of my less than intellectual sounding utterances in Ahe's book. I was quite heavily intoxicated at this point in the evening and I knew that I would be too hung over to attend the Saturday yoga class. So I commented to Sherrard (I think this is pretty close to what I said) “I am so not making it to yoga tomorrow. I am so fucking serious”. Admittedly, it sounds pretty stupid when taken out of context. The context being the fact that I was drunk and that yoga carries with it a certain stigma that I don't normally subscribe too. Regardless, what she did was cruel and unnecessary. And why she decided to direct her cruelty toward me at that moment is beyond me. I may never have exchanged more than 10 words with this person. Admittedly, what I said sounds pretty stupid when taken out of context. And I make fun of people I don't know all the time. But to do it in such a way that she knew I would see it. It just wasn't nice and it kind of brought me down for a little while. Still, it might help me curb what I say about people I don't know…for a little while at least. After a while, the embarrassment and hurt subsided and I continued to enjoy myself well into the wee hours.
SATURDAY
Ow. I slept well past noon in an attempt to alleviate a very painful hangover. I was in my pajamas till after 4, at which time I showered and prepared myself for the evening's festivities. We started with dinner at the Canterbury where we gorged ourselves on too many fries and milkshakes. Then it was off to a Nimble Productions fundraiser to help the fine fellows earn enough money to buy the festival rights to “Here Comes Your Man” by the Pixies. They screened the short and made a very good case for why they needed that particular song. It was a very funny and well produced short so I hope they can make it happen. After that we headed back to the Hill for Kayobi's housewarming party. We met Kayobi's three awesome cats (one of whom is the very definition of butter ball) and saw their very cute new apartment . For their gift, I brought them a drinking game called “What the F*ck”. In this game, a person must choose between two undesirable activities and everyone else must guess what the person in question will choose. Those who guess incorrectly must drink. It's pretty simple because, well, it has to be. Complicated drinking games never go over well. This one didn't go over as well as I thought it would, however. A lot of people were disgusted by having to choose between two human secretions to consume (in popsicle form) or deciding what they would rather insert into their various orifices. After a short while, the game trailed off. I, for one, enjoyed myself. But then again, I've proved myself to be rather anti-intellectual this weekend, whatwith brain-busting quotes and high-brow games about boogers. Faye wasn't feeling well, so she left the party early with Borgia. I walked home on my own and had a GREAT time. I had never strolled through the quiet parts of Capitol Hill by myself so late at night. There are so many huge beautiful houses in tucked-away cul-de-sacs. I've been living in the city for so long that I forget how rare it is to have total silence. As I was walking through the neighborhoods, all I could hear were my own footsteps and the occasional backyard fountain. It was creepy and exciting all at the same time.
SUNDAY
Another lazy morning. I woke up around noon to the sound of helicopters overseeing the Gay Pride Parade. Dom and I tooled around the apartment for a few hours, enjoying doing nothing. I wrestled with Tobe a little bit. Then we headed to West Seattle for Dom's sister's baby shower. It was a pretty atypical baby shower. It was really more like a party. They had a keg and people were just hanging out and talking. There were, however, kids everywhere. That many kids around makes me nervous. I'm not sure why. We found out the possible names of Dom's future niece or nephew. If it's a girl, she will be called “Indie” (but that's Dr. Jones to you). If it's a boy, he will be either called “Vann Damon” or “Issac”. We were dismayed that they weren't going with our suggestion: Optimus Prime. It works for either sex!
We had to take our leave to go and record audio commentary for the “Snow Day” special edition DVD. Recording commentary is hard. You want to impart useful information and you also want to be funny. Marrying the two is where it gets tricky. I think next time we definitely need to be drinking. I think it's the key. Everyone knows the best commentary in history is the drunken commentary on “Cannibal, The Musical”. Apparently, there's a drunken commentary on the new “Orgazmo” special edition too. I've yet to hear that one.
And now the weekend comes to a close. We have quite a full week ahead of us, starting with meeting Bruce Campbell tomorrow at his book signing in the U District. We plan to hand him a copy of “Snow Day” but there are all kind of crazy rules printed on the signing ticket so he may tell us primitive screwheads to piss off. Like in the deal. Wish us luck.
Effed by the Wind 