December 2009
54 posts
Remember when you were little and some kid’s mom would pack the new kind of Doritos in his school lunch and suddenly everyone would want to try them even though they could just wait until they got home and get their own fucking Doritos? Google Wave invites remind me of that for some reason. Nevertheless, I’ve got fifteen left if anyone wants to cheese their face off.
November 2009
61 posts
Everything I know about Yale I learned from Gilmore Girls (and, um, not getting into Yale).
1 tag
“Canis Lupus,” composed by Alexandre...
1 tag
The quiet exchanges, brailled in ones and zeros, in shadows and after-hours, are the ones I cherish the most.
I think foley artists are running out of whacky sounds to punctuate people getting hit in the junk. I just watched Seth Green take a golf ball to the nads in a clip from Old Dogs and I’m pretty sure the accompanying audio was of a humpback whale suffering a miscarriage.
1 tag
1 tag
1 tag
Sometimes I fuck it up just to keep it human.
“A war between KFC and El Pollo Loco,” KTLA Evening News? This is what happens when I time-shift: I miss major world events.
I think one of the lamest contemporary television-series tropes has to be when an actress is crammed into a flimsy push-up bra and then the viewer is expected to believe all the other characters think she got an ooh-ah! ooh-ah! boob-job.
(Can I preemptively opt out from receiving any videos of their firstborn’s head crowning?)
On the rare occasions when someone who’s not particularly computer-literate sends me an email written in all caps, I like to imagine they didn’t know about caps lock and awkwardly held down the shift key the whole time they were typing.
I just realized I’ve been mispronouncing Jesse Eisenberg’s name as “Eli Rosenthal.”
One of the trickier things about growing up isn’t developing a thicker skin—it’s learning how not to vibrate like a snare drum every time someone mentions your name.
Little Archie
It’s a special time in a screenwriter’s life when he decides to cram his fondness for comic books into one of his characters’ mouths and the dialog comes out sounding even remotely plausible.
“Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”
Sometimes that insanity is love.
R: He was in that Spielberg movie. You know—Vienna.
D: What?
R: Anaheim.
D: Munich?
R: Yes!
D: ANAHEIM?
SNL’s parody of The View would be a bit more bearable if it didn’t simply seem like each performer’s impression of a random person with Tourette’s. I guess Good Burger’s Whoopi is at least in the same zip code as the actual Whoopi.
J: His producing partner looks like an Asian Oprah.
R: What does that even mean?
J: Picture Oprah—but Asian.
R: You're hurting my brain.
