Wednesday, Dec. 11, 2002 - 11:03 am
Now Playing: Sigur Ros - Track 6 from the new record (which, incidentally, has so song titles listed or liner notes...the only writing whatsoever inside the booklet is their website).
I think I'm going to listen to Rocket From The Crypt now. Ok...maybe it's becoming an unhealthy amount now.
I'm reflecting back upon Jon's entry, where he talked about seeing part of the Scooby Doo movie on "complimentary cable." He's right...the movie is pretty bad, and that sucks because I'm a huge fan of the cartoon. Let me just say that casting Freddy Prinze Jr. and/or Sarah Michelle Gellar in ANY movie is a bad idea, and should be the film's kiss of death. It's inexplicable why this waste of celluloid made any money at all. I must admit that Mathew Lillard was the perfect Shaggy though, and the only saving grace of the movie. I think Mathew Lillard is a great actor, and could be around for a long time as long as he avoids movies like Scooby Doo and She's All That. Did you see him in Serial Mom? He was great. SLC Punk? Classic. Hell, I'll even give him props for his overacting in both Scream and Thirteen Ghosts.
Freddy Prinze Jr, on the other hand, is destined to keep playing the same bland character in high school drama/comedies. I suppose if he MUST continue acting, it's best that he's in films like that...which I avoid like the plague. If he were to ever pop up in comething cool, I'd have to find the casting dierctor, and stab him/her in the neck.
Other actors I hate: Wesley Snipes, Antonio Banderas, Sylvester Stallone, Arnold, Jean-Claude, Steven Segal (if you could even call those last 4 "actors"), and, at certain times Tom Hanks and Robin Williams (although Williams has recently saved himself with dramatic turns in Insomniac and One Hour Photo). His return to Stand up comedy was a wise choice too. If Tom Hanks makes one more obvious attempt at winning an oscar, I'll stab him in the neck too. Why on earth did anyone like Castaway? Ugh.
Actors I like: Gary Oldman (quite possibly the best actor in the world...certainly the most diverse), Edward Norton, Jason Lee, Jeff Bridges, Johnny Depp, Gary Cole, Billy Bob Thorton, Bill Paxton...I suppose I could go on forever.
My stalker situation has taken a dramatic turn for the worse. I'm very seriously considering going down to the courthouse to get a restraining order against him.
I'm frantically trying to remember some of the music I've wanted Jon to burn for me since we became friends nearly a year ago. I'd like him to send me some Kool Keith, and some of the underground hip-hop we discussed way back in the day.
I'll have to beat him senseless if he sends me anything with Eminem on it though.
I'm fascinated with Meg. I'm very impatiently counting the days, the hours, the minutes until we get to meet in person. Our daily correspondence is what's getting me by right now. And those email. Holy shit, the emails....
We went to the Hard Rock last night to watch drunk cowboys ride the mechanical bull. Bri and T and Jerod and Will all rode it too. They tried to convince me to, but I'm a big pussy.
I'm going to clean this disaster of an office today or tomorrow. I have to. Meg will be here soon, and I can't let her see the filth that is the Big Lizard Records offices.
I also am in desperate need of a haircut. I think I have a mullet, although my friends say it doens't look very mullet-y. Maybe they're just being nice. I think I look like a redneck trucker.
"Cuz I'm a sick fucker like a redneck trucker."
House of Pain, yo.
What happened to their proposed reunion? I guess it all went to shit when DJ Lethal joined Limp Bizcrap, and Everlast got all delusional thinking he was the hip-hop equivalent of Bob Dylan.
The one and only time I saw House of Pain was in Seattle, at the Bumbershoot Festival in 1996. Some guy in the crowd next to me kept throing crayons at the band. Crayons? Fucking idiot. After about the 10th crayon thrown, Everlast said "whoever keeps throwing the crayons needs to stop, or we'll all kick the shit out of you." Me, wanting to see this guy get the life beat out of him by a bunch of white Irish hip-hoppers, was quick to point him out to the band. Needless to say, the guy left, and the crayons left with him. Other bands that I saw perform at Bumbershoot that year: Supersuckers, Mudhoney, G. Love & Special Sauce, John Lee Hooker, Young Fresh Fellows, Rev. Horton Heat, Elvis Costello, The Presidents of the United States of America, and the fucking Sex Pistols. We waited in line for hours, hoping so squeeze into the premiere of Hype! - the documentary about the Seattle music explosion which was making it's debut at the festival, but we didn't get in. Also that year, Armando and I decided to smoke pot on the little haunted house rollercoaster ride. The second we got inside the dark, creepy carnival ride, we lit the pipe. Fumbling in the dark, I somehow managed to knock the still-lit ball of weed out of the pipe, onto Armando's lap. He nearly had his penis cinged before we realized what had happened, but by that time, the ride was over and we were back outside. As we emerged from the haunted house in our little motorized cart, a cloud of smoke, and Armando's smouldering crotch gave us away, and we fled before the ride attendant could grab us.
What the fuck is this entry about?
Bri is supposed to take me car shopping today. Too bad my license is suspended. The DMV sent me a registered letter a few days ago informing me of such. Dammit.
...and I wasn't even high when I wrote all of this. A little hungover though.
"Wine turns to acid. Water to blood."
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