How To Get Accepted By Juilliard

When we last left our hero, he had taken a Bangles type fall and was watching Julia Stiles on TBS. Hard to imagine, but it got worse after I posted. But before I go on, I’ll digress into my review of Save The Last Dance, complete with spoilers. So in case it’s been on your list of movies to watch for the last SEVEN years and you haven’t gotten around to it because you’ve put off fixing your DVD player or paying your cable bill, you might want to skip the next paragraphs. In fact, you might want to skip them anyway since I’m not a licensed reviewer and it may suck even more than the movie.

I checked IMDB and found that the movie won six awards. Unless it was for Best Movie to Make You Question What You’re Doing With Your Life While Watching It, I don’t get it. Then I found out IMDB counts MTV and Teen Choice Awards. Since MTV viewers and teens are dumbasses by default, it then made sense.

Apparently, being a white kid in an inner-city all-black high school is full of challenges for about 45 minutes, after which one fits right in and can have a grand old time. It can also get you into Juilliard if you pepper your ballet audition with your newfound hip-hop sensibilities. In a movie called Crossroads I think the Karate Kid got into Julliard, too, by making friends with a black guy and peppering his classical guitar audition with some newfound Delta blues skillz. Actually, I think he left Juilliard and applied his classical guitar skills to the Delta blues and saved us all from the devil. Or he defeated the Germans in WWII with only his guitar and a portable practice amp. I can’t remember exactly. What I’ve learned from the movies is that there are not any black people at Juilliard; they just help cute white kids get in by making snooty administrators feel hip or get them kicked out by offending snooty administrators trying to preserve the arts from uncultured urban influences. I've never seen Flashdance so I don't know if she wanted to get into Juilliard or not, but I know she never carried a watermelon. Nobody puts Sid in the corner. But I digress. The only redeeming feature of the movie was that it was set in Chicago, so it’s pretty cool seeing your hometown on the big screen. Especially all the ballet studios and south side high schools I’m hanging around at all the time. I mean, why spend my money or time waiting in line to see the streets of Chicago in The Dark Knight when I can sit in bed and watch Save The Last Dance for free.

Spoiler alert over. Back to my story.

So what can be worse than wasting my time watching that on TBS on a Friday night with a dead hooker in an Ohio hotel room? Well, after the movie was over, Sex and the City came on. And I didn’t change the channel. I must have been suffering from low self-esteem but I didn’t have a straightedge razor in my toiletry kit to cut myself and instead decided to torture myself with that show.

I only watched it one other time years ago, strangely enough in a hotel room. It was possibly the worst thing I have ever seen and I never watched another minute. But with the following it had over the years and all the hype over the recent movie, I thought I’d check it out again. It sucks even worse than I had remembered. It sucks like a turbo-charged vacuum with a homemade tin spoiler attached to the back. It sucks like a whore on the fifth of the month right before the late charges kick in on her rent. It sucks like a hungry baby bonobo on its mother’s teat. It sucks like a black fly in your Chardonnay. Oh, wait, I think that’s merely ironic.

But I promise I won’t ever do that again. Of course that’s what I said the last time I ended up with a dead hooker in a hotel room.