Weekend update

All the poop that's fit to scoop:

• I just got home from seeing Grindhouse. It would have been worth the six bucks I paid to get in just to see Rose McGowan propel herself through the air with a burst of fire from her submachine-gun leg. Or the fake trailer for a Rob Zombie movie. Or to hear Rosario Dawson patiently explain that a cheerleader movie "...is a movie. About cheerleaders." Yeah, it was a blast! Lots of action, tons of gore, a bunch of humor that no one else in the theater seemed to think was as funny as I did (that's not at all unusual...it always happens to me at David Lynch movies, too). The double feature with trailers runs over three hours, and never once did I consider the possibility of leaving my seat to urinate (that's right - I pissed where I sat). I've heard talk that the studio muckety mucks, unimpressed with the opening weekend box office, are considering cutting the double feature and re-releasing it as two separate movies. Please, please, please, go see it before they do that!
  
  
• I decided to continue my proud tradition of wearing my jammies to the movie theater. This time, I threw on a pair of slippers for good measure. As I expected, I got a lot more startled looks from people here than when I did this in Illinois. The folks around here just don't get out as much. What? You never saw a middle-aged woman in pink sock monkey jammies and black bedroom slippers attending the late showing of a Tarantino flick?
  
  
• When I was driving to the theater tonight, I hadn't thought to bring my iPod, so I flipped on a Grand Rapids radio station. When the song finished, what sounded like an intern came on the air to give voice to the vitals. She announced the song that had just played as being performed by - I shit you not - "Dee-pech-ee Mode." Maybe I didn't have to pee during the movie because I pissed my pants laughing while I was driving there.
  
  
• Dear asshole neighbor:
  
  When I put my trash out this morning, it was because I knew I was going out tonight, and when I go out on Sunday night, I always forget to put the trash out. Like last Sunday. So I had a lot of trash. Also, I had unpacked my chaise lounge and received an ungodly number of packages from Amazon, so my living room was ass-deep in cardboard and bubble wrap. This morning, I packed up all the loose odds and ends and cardboard and styrofoam and shit and stuffed it into the rather large chaise box. It seemed to me like everything in the box was pretty snug and would stay put for the night, or else I wouldn't have put it out so early. Imagine my surprise when Squirl, visiting to partake in a General Hospital hoedown, informed me that she had to chase one of my boxes of trash down the street and put it back on my lawn when she arrived. Damn! I was sure I'd packed that better. I felt really bad when I walked out to take a look, and it took a second to dawn on me that something was amiss. What was that, you ask? Why, dear neighbor (whichever one you are), the giant chaise box was nowhere to be found, and you left all the small boxes and plastic and bubble wrap and styrofoam loose in my fucking yard. I had to duct tape the shit together to keep it from blowing into every yard for two blocks. Did you even think about that when you were dumping shit out of the big box? I don't give a rat's ass if you take my trash, but next time, could you take the big box and everything in it, you cumrag? Just because we live in a trailer park doesn't mean you have to act like it. Don't make me come bust up your meth lab.
  
  
• Cool link for the weekend: When Tardist and I lived with our parents in Flint in the early '80s, we used to watch a lot of MTV. Most of it wasn't good for much more than laughs, but there were some videos that had the magical quality of making us both shut the fuck up and just stare at the TV. One of those was the video for a song called Totally Nude by the Wallets - an odd song, an odder still video. I hadn't thought about that for years, and then I recently ran across a copy of it online. Check it on out and tell me it ain't the damndest thing you've seen in a while:
  
  The Wallets - Totally Nude