One thing we don't like here at Leper Pop is being told what to do. In fact, we'll be less inclined to do whatever it is we're told. For example, say the Mrs. wises up some day and leaves me. The next week Crystal Bernard moves in next door and asks me to come over and help her connect her DVD and cable and stuff. I do. Then she asks me over to help hang some pictures. Then she comes over for some restaurant recommendations. I might be thinking I would ask her out. But if you told me that I needed to ask her out, then I would not just to defy you. I'd have to be a big creep to her and ask out the pregnant girl with no personality working at the Subway shop down the street. Get it? And don't try that reverse psychology crap, either. Moist Rub has a degree in that shit and will see it a mile away.
Remember when Rock Star ended and everyone was telling us what to write about? Yeah, that's right, the blog could have been huge, but instead we showed you who was boss and tortured you with all this drivel the last two years.
However, after my last post a commenter named Sarah J something posted a question asking why I wasn't showing any love to Sex in the City. It seemed like a legit inquiry and, looking back, it did seem like a rather incomplete post without some detail. So here it is...
Top Ten Reasons Sid Thinks Sex In The City Sucks
1. It’s seems to be heavy on the relationships. I’m a guy. Do I need to elaborate?
2. They’re always getting together and eating and drinking and talking. I don’t enjoy doing that with other people so why would I want to watch them do it?
3. They seem to whine a lot. I have my own problems. Like trying to keep the green sauce off my chin while eating a burrito. I don’t need to hear about their pretend television problems.
4. The guys on there are better looking than me. That makes them douchebags. I don’t find shows with good-looking guys very entertaining. That’s why all the best sitcoms pair the dopey guy with the hot wife. To appease us unmodel types. George Clooney is the exception – he can pull off the good-looking bit without making me suffer from low self-esteem. Hell, even Danny DeVito hangs out with him.
5. Although I find Kristin Davis attractive, I wouldn’t give the others a second look and would even prefer to avoid the first look if at all possible. Guys are pretty stupid, and I will watch a bad show if they put enough good-looking girls in it (e.g. Las Vegas). As long as they don’t whine too much.
6. I like New York City and I’d rather not believe that all the women there are like that.
7. I think they dress in designer clothes and eat at all the hip restaurants. No need to do that unless you make 8 figures a year. I’m not really sure what they do for a living, but I don’t think it’s 8 figures type stuff. Why don’t you skip one of your little bitch sessions and give some time or money to a soup kitchen or something.
8. They never seem to be having any fun. Maybe if they’d drop the drudgery routine they might find a guy who doesn’t want to toss them through the windshield of the nearest taxi.
9. Because it’s not football.
10. Finally, the theme music is annoying. Whatever happened to good theme music like the Theme from Shaft?
There you have it, gentle reader. Hope that answered your question. Just don't expect a movie review.
Showing posts with label sex in the city. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sex in the city. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
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.
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.
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