With that being said, I did enjoy the movie quite a bit. I applaud the filmmakers for making a truly creepy film with a limited budget and very few actors or set-pieces. It’s nice to see a movie that builds its horror from well drawn out characters and events, rather than over the top violence and gore (Saw 6….I’m looking at you). The premise of a haunting has been done to death over the years, so this really did seem like a fresh take on the matter. Sure people will compare it to ‘The Blair Witch’ or even ‘Cloverfield’ due to the handheld cameras, but it truly is a unique film and does deserve a viewing for anyone even remotely interested in horror. I guess the only issue I have with ‘Paranormal Activity’ is people’s reaction to the hype that surrounds it.

     Yes, I understand in this case the hype is actually positive for such a low-budget film. It’s already raking in million’s due to its slow release/word of mouth campaign, and it will no doubt bring in an impressive gross due to Halloween fast approaching. This no doubt rewards the filmmakers with great opportunities for future projects, as well as a few lucky studio execs will have fresh hookers to do coke off. It’s the little things in life, right? Regardless of this career advancement and support for the economy via the world’s oldest profession, we are still left with one of the most annoying things in life due to this hype…impressionable people.

     We all know the type. I refer to them as “parrots” myself. They randomly repeat things they’ve heard via television, radio, conversation, text message, ventriloquist dummy, etc. without any critical thinking on their part. These are the same people responsible for sending you a barrage of emails about a little girl who has cancer and needs your used gum for her treatment regime, or believe if you don’t forward their chain text to 10 others your dog will die of gonorrhea, and probably own every product Billy May’s sold on TV (Slap Chop….you will be mine). These are the people that will be annoying the shit out of you about ‘Paranormal Activity’ for the next few weeks.

Example annoying conversation:

Parrot: Hey, have you seen Paranormal activity???

You: No, I heard it got good reviews though.

Parrot: It was terrifying!!! They said it’s the new Blair Witch. You need to see it!!! Haven’t you seen the commercials???

You: Yeah, think I saw one. I’ll try and check it out when I have time.

Parrot: You should make time!!! A few people in my theater screamed and dropped their popcorn. It was crazy!!!

You: Wow….interesting.

Parrot: Not interesting, it was horrible!!! I felt terror in that theater!!! Didn’t you see the commercials with people jumping around all crazy??? It was like that…but worse!!! I was texting people while I was in the theater to tell them how scared I was!!!

You: (Fakes an important phone call and walks away)

     Believe me…you will have the above conversation at least once within the next few weeks. As for myself, I now have first-hand experience witnessing this over-reaction to the film. When the credits to the film rolled I looked over to my fellow horror aficionado cousin and said “It was pretty good”, he nodded and we got up to leave. Right on queue a woman behind us proclaimed loudly “That was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen in my life”(note: this woman has never been to Wal-Mart on the 1^st or 15^th). Once she made that statement, it was like witnessing the floodgates. Right on queue everyone else in the theater started repeating likewise, as if it was a badge of honor.

     We initially laughed these bold statements off, but as we approached the exit to the lobby we ran into a few disgusted looking ushers. One kept repeating “Please watch your step, someone threw up out here”, while another mustered strength to try and clean the brown guck up. Yes, someone actually got themselves so worked up in the theater they actually threw up on the way out. Leaving the theater we both laughed about the insanity of that incident, but also realized that vomit probably just sold a few more movie tickets as the Parrot’s leaving will be telling that tale to anyone willing to listen over the next few weeks. Just as I’m repeating the tale to you myself….SHIT!!

Why is it that Hollywood rarely ever allows a love story to play out honestly? I think the last semi-accurate portrayal of a relationship gone bad I’ve seen was ‘The Break-up’. Even that movie had its flaws, but at least it had the guts to leave the two main characters apart from one another at the end of the story. Their was no last minute resolution between the two characters, and no one made an illogical decision to save the relationship. It ended rather ugly, and people spent the rest of the movie trying to hurt one another. Sadly, that is really more true to life than Hollywood would rather admit. In real life we don’t get a Hollywood ending, just a feeling of resentment, anger, hurt, and loss.

So why do they continue to make every love story like a Lifetime movie? Would people rather see the fantasy of love, rather than the truth of it? Granted, you could make an argument that all movies are fantasy, and it’s no different than watching a completely unbelievable action flick, far-fetched horror story, or sci-fi epic that takes place on some alien planet. We all like to live vicariously through these types of stories, that’s a part of why we enjoy the movies so much. Whether it’s the mannerisms of the cool lead character, the witty dialogue you wish would come out of your mouth at the drop of a hat, or the sexy female that just seems so obtainable at the end of the day…it’s just so satisfying to watch. So if that’s the case, are we really just hanging on to the illusion of love at the end of the day? Do we all realize it’s a rather complicated emotion, and just prefer to see it play out in a harmless manner?

I guess I’m just rambling about the topic now. Consider me a jaded person when it comes to this subject. I’ve felt the embrace of love in my lifetime, and I’ve also been kicked by the wayside while it stole my wallet and trampled over the remnants of my heart. Maybe it’s just a little frustrating that I didn’t have a reference movie to play in my mind, or live vicariously though while going through that kind of state. All I had to choose from were Hollywood endings that did not speak to me or my situation, and just left me with a hollow feeling inside. Luckily we always have music to turn to in times of need, but it would be nice to have a few more movies that could visualize the ugly truths of love. She can be wonderful at times, but sometimes you really need to see that bi*ch that she can be to fully understand how she works.

However, this establishment takes on a whole new life at 2:00 AM. You have your mix of club kids, bar folks, shady characters, and just plain weird people. Look around a Denny’s this late and you’ll most likely see a few scantily clad women (usually texting, laughing, and speaking in high pitched yelps), people passed out on tables (but awake when time to order or eat), various males trying to charm the ‘cute’ waitress (“So, can I be your grand slam?”), and a solitary older man/woman at the bar area drinking coffee (usually mumbling and laughing at random intervals). It’s like looking into a tank full of sea-monkeys, but actually seeing something alive and interesting.

The food itself is a mash-up of everything. You have your large mix of ‘Grand Slams’ which are the cornerstone to every drunken man/woman’s diet. Obnoxiously large burgers and sandwiches, which all come in various flavors of plain, plain, or plain. Hot wings, which I know of no one who craved to eat something hot while focusing on keeping $40 worth of drinks in their stomach. Questionable looking dinner items like steak, chicken fried steak, pork chops, and fried/grilled chicken (which all smell like real food, but taste closer to AM/PM then we probably want to admit). Standard drinks such as coffee, soda, tea are all helpful when it comes to rehydrating your liver, but the true ‘Nectar of the Gods’ is the strawberry lemonade. I don’t care if it’s just frozen strawberry puree dumped into regular lemonade, it’s daam near life-affirming when in a drunken haze.

In the end it’s really not about the food. It’s more about reminiscing over the night’s events and exaggerating to make them seem better, putting together elaborate stories/alibis together to tell girlfriends or significant others, and generally just enjoying time with the company you choose to keep. The food is just an edible wrapper to help finish the tale. Plus, you can’t beat burping up ‘Moon’s over my Hammy’ when waking at Noon on a Saturday or Sunday.

Note: For cool points try to order the no-longer on the menu, ‘Breakfast Dagwood Sandwich’. It’s a huge sandwich that was once described by a waitress as “Big as a baby’s head”. It will leave you in a meat/egg stupor when finished. Only a few places will still know how to make it, but if you’re lucky enough to have one, consider yourself that much closer to true enlightenment.

Now some may complain they cannot enjoy this luxury at their place of work. Maybe you don’t work in an office environment. My advice to you, head to your nearest Ross, Marshalls, or T.J. Maxx and have a field day looking for an irregular dress shirt, slacks, and tie. Then look for the nearest office where cubicles are considered a way of life, and check ‘no’ to being a convicted felon on every job application to be found (you didn’t know she was underage anyways). Office life guarantees a paycheck that allows shopping at Target instead of Wal-mart, and fancy titles that are way too long and really mean nothing like:

Title:  Eligibility Coordinator & Technical Research Processing Associate Advocate

Translation: Disconnect services and answer calls for pissed off customers who haven’t paid their bill.

Back to the real topic though, the rise of the weekly alcoholic holiday. You have to admire the fact that people despise work, school, and responsibility so much that they came up with occasions to party throughout the week. “Get sloshed on a Tuesday? Sure, I’m two days into the work week, I deserve a break!”  Thus, the idea for Taco Tuesdays was born. The male dress shirt hasn’t been safe from taco grease, mixed drinks, or desperate women ever since. TIDE might get some of those stains out, but desperation is like a grass stain. It might fade on the first wash, but everyone still knows you played on the ground. Granted, they don’t know what you did on the ground…but those tacos will!

Thirsty Thursdays is actually my favorite holiday since the following day is a Friday. Who really does work on a Friday anyways? That’s the perfect day to be inebriated in the office and not feel guilty about it. I’d safely say you could probably shoulder surf any fellow co-worker of your choice on a Friday and find various IE windows with non-related work material (YAHOO!, CHUD, FOOT FANCY, EROTIC COW WEEKLY, etc). Actually, it doesn’t have to be a Friday for that to be a true statement, but that is beyond the point. Thirsty Thursday is usually home to $1 beer night, and 2 for 1 well drink specials. Either special is a recipe for disaster, but a fun story you will not allow a friend to live down is usually right around the corner, “Yes, I agree she could dance, but that doesn’t change the fact she looked like a victim from ‘Hostel’.

Epilogue: In the end he was able to look past her ‘Hostel’ eye, and they raised a family with 2 ‘Semi-Hostel’ looking kids in a house with a white picket fence. Their anniversary is this Thirsty Thursday. Tacos will be served.

We all have memories of that one video store we used to frequent as a child/teen. I actually have two, Alpine Video and Video Scene. I like to think these two places probably had a major part in shaping me into who I am today. What do parents really do for us anyways? It was truly a treat to visit these stores on Friday and Saturday nights searching for something interesting to watch. The stores themselves had so much character! They were usually family owned with various odd looking relatives operating various parts of store. The checkout counter was operated by lonely souls who needed to tell you how great/bad your movie selection was. I’m glad I was never old enough to rent from the adult section during this time. Feelings might have been hurt.

The surroundings in these stores were always interesting. Is it me or are posters considered the only type of movie promotion left in chain video stores? Back in the days of Mom and Pop stores, I clearly recall a 6ft tall FRANKENHOOKER standee that would say, “Wanna date?”, every time you passed it! How genius is that? How could you not want to rent a film, even a bad film for that matter, that at least put some effort into getting your attention? Now we just end up staring at various big head poster shots. None of them offer us a date, just massive forehead from the lead characters.

Some would probably say the major downfall of these stores was the limited selection of popular titles. Sure it was annoying waiting 1 to 2 weeks for that one copy of ‘Garbage Pail Kids: The Movie’ to be available for rent, but that also allowed for something beautiful…experimentation. I’m not talking about that time when you thought a popped up polo collar looked great, but when you actually took a chance on an unknown movie. How many brave souls attempt such a feat now? Between 100 copies each of ‘10,000 VD’s’ or ‘P.S… I’m Dead’ being ready to rent first day of release, who takes the time to rent the ‘Basket Case’, ‘Dead Alive’, or ‘Terror Vision’ of our generation? Are quality *B movies soon to be extinct by such mainstream availability?

The FRANKENHOOKER sign slowly weeps at the thought…minus a paying date.

P.S. I’m back from vacation like that old pimp boyfriend you just can’t shake. “I swear Mom, he’s really changed…”.

* I’m not talking about the digital video crap that currently pollutes the store shelves either. Digital blood, bad photo-shop cover art, a post-it note sized script, or putting a’ Z’ at the end of your title does not qualify as a respectable B movie.

The classic pager was the top view display Motorola. It was simple, yet elegant and functional in its design.  It was small and easy to store, and was actually very reliable when it came down to it. Plus, you could customize the hell out of those things! I clearly remember changing cases, led lights, batteries, and personalized chains on a regular basis, but still not having enough to pay my $8 monthly bill. After all, a man has to have priorities.

The pager worked by...paging. If someone had the need to speak with you, they called your number and plugged in a call back number. You in turn would receive the message, and have to quickly locate a phone in order to call the number back. This would inevitably lead to the most common phone exchange, “Did someone page?”They would also try and write out primitive messages using only numbers. Similar to how we used to write messages on a calculator… in third grade.

The pager only did a few key functions, but it was in these small details you could gain personal insight into its owner. People that kept the ‘beep’ feature on when leaving the house were clearly in need of attention/hug. It wasn’t enough that their pager was always displayed in plain view, but they felt the need to state “I’m kind of a big deal” whenever the pager went off in public. You may say, “But isn’t that why it’s called a beeper, so it can beep”?, my reply “No, continue on poser”. Vibration was the least intrusive notification, and the choice of champions everywhere. Plus, it actually vibrated, so how can you argue with that? It  was a capable mood setter for both sexes! Finally, people who kept it on silent all day needed to be treated with kid gloves. It’s one thing to turn it on silent to be courteous; it’s another to constantly hide in the shadows. Walk away slowly.

Now that I’ve had the time to really digest it, a pager was just about the most retarded form of communication possible. Any device that works by telling you to find another device to complete the transaction was clearly not thought out very well. However, they were cheap, kids are dumb, drug dealers needed to stay anonymous, and Dr’s needed to feel important.  So what can you do? The basic pager eventually opened the doors to widespread acceptance of the cell phone. However, the generous 80 minute calling plans that immediately followed is a story for another day.

I would like to take a moment to talk about a serious issue that is very near and dear to my heart.  It’s a topic that has been debated by the masses for years. Scholars have discussed both sides of the issue in more detail than I could ever fathom, yet their still is no right or wrong answer. Friendships have ended, marriages strained, murders have been committed, and children in Africa continue to starve (as usual) in its wake. It’s something that people will no doubt continue to talk about until the end of time. I can only scrape the surface of this hot button issue in my short post, but I will do so out of love and respect for the subject at hand. So, let me jump right in and ask you…

Are zombies capable of running?

Just to clear things up for those of you who are sticklers for detail, I’m using zombie as a blanket term for the living dead. It doesn’t matter if they were brought to life by a voodoo spell, book of the dead, radiation, Trioxin, Sumatran rat-monkey bite, Rage virus, etc. I’m treating the living dead like the word ‘Hispanic’ on a loan application and classifying all of them into a generalized category. After all, we live in America right? Let’s keep blending that melting pot!

My theory on zombies breaks down this simple *two step rule:

1)      If you rise from your grave or been dead for a long time, you should shamble like a senior citizen.

2)      If you have been infected (via bite, toxin, gas, radiation, etc) while alive, your allowed to run your a$$ off.

This in turn places them in two categories: The Shambler & Sprinter.

Shambling zombies prefer to chase people at their own glacial pace. They are great for attacking in large numbers, or invading small isolated houses. They’ve been around a long time, so the rigor mortis has set in and locked their joints up. They stumble around all day looking for a dumb teenager, sick children, the elderly, people who prefer to scream rather than run, “more…cops”, or someone who has never seen a zombie movie and is dumb enough to not shoot them in the head.  They’re actually very limited in obtaining their meal selection, so we should all have pity for the Shambling zombie. While beloved by most people as the Classic zombie, they’re equivalent to the handicap in their world (minus their own parking/bathroom stall).

Sprinting zombies can run forever and seemingly never become tired. They are great for attacking anything and everything, and can usually scare the living hell out of you in the process. These zombies retained their speed and agility due to being alive when infected, but seem to gain an increase in stamina and strength in the process. Barry Bonds would be proud. They can claim just about any victim stupid enough to wander in their general direction, and you’d better pray you made friends with a treadmill during your life if you encounter one. While considered the black sheep zombie due to constant complaints of “zombies can’t run”, the sprinting zombie has learned to deal with this prejudice by happily eating their detractor’s whole. Sprinting zombies could be considered the alpha zombie of their world.

It’s really that simple for me. I think both types have their own place, so why can’t they both exist?  Can’t we at least agree to disagree on this one? Shouldn’t we actually just move the conversation to something more productive and positive for our society as a whole? Just think of what we could accomplish if we just let both types exist in peace and harmony!

We could have them eat the homeless! Just imagine never having to feel
self-conscious about not giving up loose change in front of the grocery store again. A person can dream right?

In my younger days (3 months ago), I used to enjoy the company of friends, alcohol, and a matinee ticket. We branded this type of outing, ‘E&J & the Movies’.  Clearly, we were working with limited funds. E&J is one of those alcohols you discover in high school. It has a relatively low cost, but high potential for total annihilation of 4-6 people. It requires no complex mixers and doesn’t even have to be served cold. Straight out of a lukewarm bottle, or mixed in a cup with ice and soda. You’d be on your way to teenage pregnancy in no time! I know there are many equivalent low-class alcohol choices, such as MD 20/20 (the drink of criminals), Thunderbird (we weren’t homeless), Boones Farm (girl drink), or Malt Liquor (Olympic quality sprint to urinal), but E&J always felt right when it was time to watch a flick.

Now keep in mind, we were not the ‘crying baby ‘in the theatre (see blog #1) on these outings. We were even half-way respectable in choosing the times for these visits. It was either the first afternoon showing on a Saturday, or an evening showing during the week. Going during the week was preferred since:

1) You would have the theatre to yourself.

2) We had no qualms in being slightly hung over at work the next day.

3) We preferred being slightly hung over at work the next day.

Also, movie choice was critical. B movies were preferred since the plot was not complicated to follow, and you could somewhat remember them the next day. Anything having to do with invading aliens, a giant bug infestation, or fire-breathing dragons automatically warranted a viewing. We once made the mistake of watching The Bourne Identity, and the only conversation we could have later about it was “Did you see Matt Damon jump off the stairwell, using that body as a shield, while shooting the other guy? That was awesome!”  Which is really sad when you consider that scene was in the trailer as well.

Horror flicks were tailor made for E&J.  Would you believe House of a Thousand Corpses actually has a plot you can follow while inebriated? I’ve watched the movie completely sober and said aloud, “How is this not Texas Chainsaw Massacre? Why is no one suing anybody right now?” It has some great gore and violence, but it just kind of hangs around like a legless pedophile. Forever trying to touch you in all the right spots, but just doesn’t posses the reach needed. However on an E&J night, I thought it was a horror masterpiece! I was ready to buy a Dr. Satan figure when I left the theater and plan out my next Halloween costume around him. I guess you could say E&J would ‘slightly’ impair your judgment skills.

Regardless of impaired judgment, some of my best movie going experiences were shared with friends, a bottle of E&J, and an empty movie theatre. I think that is probably what heaven would be like.

Babies. Small. Mushy.  Smelly. Occasionally cute. We have many places to enjoy babies. Your own house if you’re a proud parent, but can’t afford a nanny. Your friend’s house, if you enjoy listening to “Look at that face he/she’s making” 50 times within an hour. Your local Wal-Mart, if you enjoy navigating multiple babies with soiled diapers, fudge covered hands, and non-attentive parents. Heck, you can even go to Babies’ R Us and just stand against the wall with a soft drink, watching babies come and go all day to your heart’s content. Doing baby  things, in their own baby way. On second thought, scratch that last idea (it’s so much easier to stay incognito in the parking lot).

My point being, we can enjoy the miracle of a child screaming just about anywhere in society. We basically have no choice as they have invaded every aspect of our life. We have no shelter from our future generation. They are in houses, stores, parks, workplaces, street corners, bars, and strip clubs (I’m from a rough side of town). Now don’t get me wrong. I can tune out the sound of a child whimpering just as well as any self-respecting, dead beat parent… but why do I have to do it in the movie theatre?

This past Father’s day, I went with my family to watch The Happening. It was me, my wife, and my ‘Teen Nick’ watching son (give the gift of violence to your pre-teen). We began to enjoy the events in the movie unfold until…it happened (M. Knight is somewhere smiling). A baby stroller parked in the front of the theatre decided to make itself known to the audience. It started with a whimper, was followed by a brief silence, and closed with all hell being unleashed. The baby cried, screamed, and whined for a solid 10 minutes. The audience shushed and yelled random comments at the parents to no avail. Some comments were explicit, but all were amusing. Regardless, that baby was not leaving the theatre!

I still haven’t decided what’s more ridiculous about that scenario. The idea of a baby being taken to a dark/ loud movie theatre and expected to remain silent, or the parent who think it’s ok to try and calm down the crying baby during the movie. I enjoy seeing a movie when it premieres, but having to drag along ‘Soft-Spot McCoy’ would seriously kill that desire. What triggers these people to think this behavior is ok?

Is the cost of babysitting now higher than gas prices?  Is the allure of Mark Wahlberg acting like Nyquil induced Mark Wahlberg that great? How long can a baby scream without needing boob? Why can’t rampant boob feeding in the theatre be the actual problem at hand? Would it even be an issue? I don’t know the answers. I can only present more questions. After all, I went to public school.

Now go play with your happy meal toy.