Monday, September 27, 2010

Monday, September 20, 2010

Things I think about on a daily basis:

• Rats and their probably-very active social lives
• Arch Supports
• Rats wearing arch supports (they'd have to be so tiny! And where would they get them? The "rodiatrist?" Hacha!)
• 3 bedroom apartments
• Falling or being pushed (but probably being pushed) onto subway tracks
• Dying on the subway tracks
• Escaping death on the subway tracks
• Who I would do on any given block, train car, or television/movie screen (the tall one/really, me?/ Jon Hamm or Tim Riggins, respectively)
• Bedbugs
• Why no one has asked me to star on Broadway simply because they like the cut of my jib
• Seriously, though. I have a great fucking jib.

UPDATE:
Volcano tornados (is that you, 2012?)

Monday, September 13, 2010

True Blood 3.12: This coffin is closed

Waking up this morning on the sleeper sofa I’m using as a bed, I felt something. It was a quickening heartbeat, a jolt of electricity to my brain, a new sense of hope. I woke to the feeling that I had come out the other side of a struggle—I was battle scarred, but, still, I was alive, free. The world was brimming with possibility. This new joie de vivre was unrelated to my move across the country, my search for a job, or crossing from delayed adolescents into true adulthood. No, this freedom is related to something much different. Ladies. Gentlemen. Those who fall outside of the western gender dichotomy. Season three of True Blood has ended and tonight we drink. But first, brave soldiers, we shall recap.

"We be recappin'."

We begin at Fangtasia where Eric, Golden Viking of my loins, is dying in the parking lot, King Russell (also dying) chained to his wrist. For two vampires as old as they are, it’s taking them forever to fucking die already. Remember when Godric committed suicide by sun? It was so easy—the sun came up, he was dead, and that was only dawn! Now it’s the afternoon and these vampires, though both looking like the smoking corpse from the Beetlejuice waiting room, are still talking. That’s not how science works, Alan Ball! The sun gets stronger between sunrise and afternoon! Back on track, though—Ghosty Godric appears to Eric and tells him to spare Russell’s life and forgive him because this is True Blood and True Blood is constantly looking for ways to out-dumb itself. Sparing Russell, a vampire who is powerful and intent on killing Eric and Co., would be a bad idea, but it’s exactly what they do after Sookie drags Eric inside and heals him with her stupid magic fairy blood. Rather than kill Russell, Bill and Eric take him to a construction site and bury him in concrete. “This will hold you for at least a hundred years,” Eric says (see you next season, Russell).

Bill then acts like a huge asshole and tries to imprison Eric in concrete as well. “This will hold you for at least—” Wait. Never mind because Eric gets out right away and goes to tell Sookie that Bill tricked her into loving him as a way of helping the Vampire Queen of Louisiana. Sookie’s all “I’m mad” and Bill is all “I love you” and she’s all “Shut up” and Eric is just standing there covered in concrete dust (which is a very good look for him, BTDubs). The only thing for Sookie to do now is go to her grandma’s grave and cry about how alone she is even though she still has a brother and a best friend and it’s not like she moved to New York City by herself or anything, but we’re supposed to feel bad for her anyway. Fine, Sookie. I’ll feel bad for you but you better feel bad for me, too, since I am having salad for dinner for the seventh night in a row because it’s the only thing adult-me knows how to make and I miss my family and I miss cable, but no one is making a show about me (unless they want to. Winkity wink, HBO). ANYWAY, Sookie’s English fairy friend shows up and invites her to Fairy Land. Sookie goes and is never heard from again. Back at his mansion, Bill decides to fight the Vampire Queen because she knows about Sookie’s fairy-ness, which shouldn’t matter ‘cause Sookie is gone forever (I can dream). Then this happens:

tbfight

Elsewhere, Sam convinces Tara to run away from her problems like he did. She starts by cutting off her hair, which is supposed to be really dramatic, but isn’t because was so clearly weave to begin with. What a sacrifice, Tara! Where will you scrounge up the twenty-five bucks it takes to pay for another? With one last look at Merlotte’s, Tara zooms away in her convertible and we may never have to see her on our televisions again (but we probably will).

While Tara is leaving the show forever, Sam goes to track down his brother Tommy and get back the money he stole from Merlotte’s. He finds him in the woods and Tommy confesses that he can’t get a job because he’s illiterate so Sam shoots him in the back or maybe the leg, but either way it was a major overreaction to finding out that your brother can’t read. Chillax, Sam. They have programs for this type of thing.

Did anything else happen in this dud of a finale? Ah, Jason becomes King of Hotshot after he warns the community about an oncoming drug bust and ruins his chance of ever becoming a cop. Oh, well—I guess being the custodian of a meth/Werepanther community of inbreds is just as good. All hail King Jason and his band of brother-cousins.

Lafayette discovers that his boyfriend Jesus is actually a witch and is now on his way to becoming one, too? Whatever- they seem happy together, so good for them. In other happy couple news, Hoyt and Jessica are moving in together. YAY. I love Hoyt and Jessica, though do people realize that despite being a vampire she’s still only seventeen? And Hoyt is twenty-nine? And they’ve only dated for two months? Shut up, me. Let’s enjoy this while it lasts because there was a creepy baby doll left on the floor of the vacant house that Hoyt is renting which foreshadows… something, I’m sure.

And that’s the end. Sookie and Tara are gone forever (please?), Eric is making a movie of the board game Battleship (with Tim Riggins and Rhianna), Bill is stupid, and the town of Bon Temps fades back into the American landscape. Perhaps something happened there once, something ugly, something violent, but, blessedly, we forget as we venture into the fall TV season.

A note: WE DID IT! HOORAY! Thanks for sticking with me, everybody! Despite my many claims otherwise, I really enjoyed writing these recaps and will probably do it again next summer. In the meantime, I need a new show to recap. If you have a suggestion, please leave it in the comments. Now I have to go eat some more fucking salad.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Empire State of Mind

Sorry for the recent lack of posts, dudes. While you were angrily slamming your fists on your keyboard, demanding more True Blood recaps and cute videos of animated shells (it’s never enough for you, hypothetical reader who seems to have anger issues), I was packing myself up and moving from Madison, WI to New York City. The transition has been chaotic, stressful, and exciting for everyone involved and settling in has proved equally frantic—my sleep has been spotty at best, I’ve been plagued with nightmares, allergies, and this morning I discovered that I have a STYE on my eyelid. A FUCKING STYE! After a little google research, I learned that styes are most common in babies, which makes sense seeing that I seem to be acting like a baby a lot these days.

Stress of moving aside, I’m excited, nay, THRILLED (does “thrilled” beat “excited”?) to be in New York again. So many places to go and people to meet! Look at all the friends I’ve made already:



Yeah! Look at me schmoozing with the New York elites!* What excitement!** What possibility!*** Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m meeting Don Draper and Yoko Ono for martinis in the East Village.**** As we say in New York, ciao ciao!*****


*“Schmoozing with the New York elites” probably means “fighting a sinus headache while I sit alone in my apartment watching season one of Friday Night Lights.”
**Friday Night Lights is really exciting.
***I need a job.
****This one is 100% true.
*****No.