who dat? contest.

(yo stee. i know
who dat?)

last game:

The Practice's Lisa Gay Hamilton.

first correct answer:

I'm a schmuck, and I forgot who answered first. Sorry.

here we go again

Hey, bitches. How fucking cool is it that Steve Martin is hosting the Oscars? Fuck yeah. I mean, Billy Crystal has done a good job and all, but Steve Martin has been making me laugh for years and while he's disappointed me many times, he's a consistently funny live performer (SNL appearances and such, of late) and is one of the few of that era who have really evolved. He doesn't do stand-up now, but he writes plays and articles and, yes, does shitty movies, but he challenges himself artistically, and he's smart and thoughtful and relevant. I couldn't be more pleased.

To make this an all-movie entry, I wanted to quickly comment on the handicapped people suing movie theatres who are making stadium-style seating. At first I thought it was a case of them wanting all of us to be punished and see this new great seating trend stopped just because they couldn't also take part, and that pissed me off, but now I see that the new seating scheme gives them nothing but space in the very front. I don't quite see how that needs to be the case, but I'll give them the benefit of the doubt. Just don't fuck with stadium seating for those of us who can navigate stairs. Don't.

We went and saw What Women Want this weekend, and oh, man, this movie makes me more and more mad as time goes on. Sure, there were some very funny moments and Mel is goofy and fun and all, but they didn't have to make it quite so formulaic. Really. One Big Fucking Formula. There wasn't a single surprise in the whole movie. It was really the worst of what Hollywood does - take a potentially interesting or at least fun movie, and flatten and homogenize it beyond recognition. Mel is good but I swear he had to have been drunk for most of the shooting. Helen Hunt is always "good," but I hear she's such a bitchface that I can't like her. She's ruined herself for me.

Oh, and I guess this is film-tangential, but scab Elizabeth Hurley was fined 100,000 by SAG for breaking the now-over commercial strike. And even now, bitchwhore is claiming that she didn't know about the strike. Even fucker Tiger Woods said that it was a difficult decision and he had contracts with Nike and blah blah blah. Hurley is still claiming ignorance. Actually, come to think of it, she is a fucking stupid bitch, so she might not have known about it. (Yeah, I don't know where this hatred is coming from exactly. Just work with me, people.)

So the end-of-year awards have started to be announced. Last year I tried to follow them, but got slightly overwhelmed. Well, I'm going to try again. I love this season. I really do. I love Top 10 lists and nominations and awards. I like yelling at an omission and feeling that thrill when someone feels the same way you do about some movie you hold dear. It's all well and good to like a book, say, that no one else knows about and you get to slowly turn people on to it, but then when a member of the media recognizes it as well, there is a sort of vindication. And pride. And pure happiness for the artist. Recognition, in a perfect world, would be unnecessary and not hoped for, but we do. We need it.

So the first announcement was by the National Board of Review late last week. They're the old old group consisting of critics, historians, teachers, students and such.

Eh. Haven't seen it. Don't really want to, but I will. Joaquin Phoenix makes me nuts, though. To me it's like watching Jim Belushi or Kevin Farley. I hope Kate Winslet gets naked.

BEST ACTOR: Javier Bardem. Before Night Falls.
Don't know. I do know that we're talking communist oppression and freedom of speech and poetry and, I think, AIDS, all of which sounds like awards to me.

BEST ACTRESS: Julia Roberts. Erin Brockovich.
Oh. Oh. I don't know. She was good, but I'm confused. Her superstar status has me confused and befuddled. Can't see where superstar ends and characters begins. Help. Does not compute. Help.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR: Joaquin Phoenix. Gladiator, Quills, and The Yards.
Ah, now see! They did that just to fuck with me. I don't get him. I don't. Maybe I will. Maybe if I'd seen The Yards or Quills I would. But I thought he was just dreadful in Gladiator. Dreadful.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS: Lupe Ontiveros. Chuck and Buck.
Wow. I have not seen this movie and haven't even heard of the actress. I know a friend of mine is a big fan of this low budget digital feature, but now I'll have to check it out. This chick better be fucking amazing though, to deserve it more than Ellen Burstyn in Requiem For A Dream. That's all I'm saying.

DIRECTOR: Steven Soderbergh. Erin Brockovich and Traffic.
Wow. You have to love him. I was talking about him last night with a friend, and not only is it incredible that he's come out with two such highly-regarded films in the same year, but he's found a way to work artistically and still make money.

DOCUMENTARY: The Life and Times of Hank Greenberg.
Not seen it.

SCREENPLAY: Ted Tally. All The Pretty Horses. 

FOREIGN FILM: Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. 
You know, it seems kinda cold that Ang Lee can be this A-list American director and then go make a movie that will probably take away all the Foreign Film awards from other smaller, more truly foreign movies.

The NBR also does a bunch of other cool awards.

BREAKTHROUGH PERFORMANCES: Michelle Rodriguez. Girlfight. and Jamie Bell. Billy Elliot.


SPECIAL FILMMAKING ACHIVEMENT: Kenneth Lonergan. You Can Count on Me.
At least, yo. At least.


This, I want to see badly.

Plus: Ellen Burstyn for Career Achievement

The runners-up for best film were: Traffic. Croupier. You Can Count on Me. Billy Elliot. Before Night Falls. Gladiator. Wonder Boys. Sunshine. Dancer in the Dark.

They are on fucking crack with the Gladiator. Seriously.

Alright, we have even more for tomorrow, folks. Meanwhile, I have go to find out if I got Weezer tickets, which I very much hope I did. Peace.

(Please note that updates may be more spotty than usual due to visitors and then obviously, they'll be none during Christmas week.)

My pick for topic of the day at Three Way Action:

It's movie award season.
Bitch here.

The Robert Downey Jr. Happy Song Corner

OK, I am going to attempt to drown myself. You can try this at home. You can be just like me. Mic check 1, 2. We Recording? I'm cancerous. So when I diss you, you wouldn't wanna answer this. If you responded back with a battle rap you wrote for Canibus. I strangled you to death and I choked you again. And break your fuckin legs till your bones poke through your skin. You beef wit me, I'ma even the score equally. Take you on Jerry Springer, and beat your ass legally. I get too blunted off the funny home grown. Cuz when I smoke out I hit the trees harder than Sonny Bono. So if I said I never did drugs, that would mean I lie and get fucked more than the President does. Hillary Clinton tried to slap me and call me a pervert. I ripped her fuckin tonsils out and fed her sherbet. My nerves hurt, and lately I'm on edge. Grabbed Vanilla Ice and ripped out his blonde dreads. Every girl I ever went out with has gone lez. Follow me and do exactly what the song says. Smoke weed, take pills, drop outta school, kill people. And drink and jump behind the wheel like it was still legal. I'm dumb enough to walk in a store and steal. So I'm dumb enough to ask for a date wit Lauryn Hill. Some people only see that I'm white, ignoring skill. Cuz I stand out like a green hat wit a orange bill. But I don't get pissed, y'all don't even see through the mist. How the fuck can I be white, I don't even exist. I get a clean shave, bathe, go to a rave. Die from an overdose and dig myself up out of my grave. My middle finger wont go down, how do I wave. And this is how I'm supposed to teach kids how to behave. Now follow me and do exactly what you see. Don't you wanna grow up to be just like me. I slap women and eat shrooms then O.D. Now dont you wanna grow up to be just like me. Me and Marcus Allen went over to see Nicole. When we heard a knock at the door, must of been Ron Gold. Jumped behind the door, put the orgy on hold. Killed em both and smeared blood in a white Bronco. My mind wont work if my spine don't jerk. I slapped Garth Brooks out of his Rhinestone shirt. I'm not a player just a ill rhyme sayer. That'll spray an Aerosol can up in the ozone layer. My rap style's warped, I'm running out the morgue. Wit your dead grandmother's corpse then throw it on your porch. Jumped into a chicken hawk cartoon with a cape on. And beat Fog Horn Leghorn with an acorn. I'm bout as normal as Norman Bates, wit deformative traits. A premature birth that was 4 minutes late. Mother are you there, I love you. I never meant to hit you over the head wit that shovel. Will someone explain to my brain. That I just severed a main vein. With a chainsaw and I'm in pain. I take a breather inside. Either I'm high, or I'm nuts. Cause if you ain't even in this room neither am I. So when you see your mom with a thermometer shoved in her ass. Then it's probably obvious that I got it on with her. Cause when I drop it off with this solo shit it's over with. I bought Cage's tape opened it and dubbed over it. I came to the club drunk with a fake ID. Don't you wanna grow up to be just like me. I've been with 10 women who got HIV. Now don't you wanna grow up to be just like me. I got genital warts and it burns when I pee. Don't you wanna grow up to be just like me. I tied a rope around my penis then I jumped from a tree. You probably wanna grow up and be just like me... speaking of which. You know what someone should explain to you people. Meg Ryan. Very nice woman, worked with her and all. Great. But she's a total cheater. Big fat stinkin' cheater. She came over tonight to see how I was doing and we ended up playing Monopoly. She was the banker. When she went to the bathroom, I found she'd been stashing money from the bank under her side of the board! Can you believe it? You cheat, Meg. You cheat. America's sweetheart my foot.
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