Monday, November 18, 2002
That was just the beginning folks, there was a whole little blog entry that started with that there sentence. Then my computer crashed, and all that was recovered by Bill Gates and his dogshit was the above sentence. Think of all the things that could mean. Pull your head out of the gutter goddammit. OK, for creativity sake, put it back in, just for a minute, but it's nothing like that. Around the World. The basketball shooting game, where you have to make a shot from various points around the key. I wrote a really lame really stupid really pathetic attempt at repartee referencing that there idea.
Oh alfred antithetical self aggrandizement so does not become you. Get off the straight up bonumbo tip for all concerned and move on for chrissake.
I was recently put in the uncomforable position of being in the same room as a television set that was exhibiting the film Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. Oh ya ya sisterhood though ungoodest of not good movies. Why art thou? Not why art thou horrible or why art thou intensely muy, just why. Why? Art thou? Art Howe. Why. There is no need, yet it COULD have redeemed itself, as shown from the extra clips they show at the end, yet didn't. Much ado which you think might have some form of payoff, then nothing. Some sob story about diet pills and a nervous breakdown. Give me a fukn break and get over it already. I was waiting for the candles to fall on the ground and burn the whole fukn house down during the final ya ya sisterhood indoctrination, now that would have been an ending to be proud of, but no, there's just no balls in filmmaking anymore. And everytime those dumb ho's yelled out "ya ya" it was like, johnny, get my gun, cuz uncle claymore is going to south central and getting wiggy wid it.
Saw 8-Mile this weekend. We WERE going to see Harry Potter, but so was everybody else and his goddamm brother. Got there at 7:15 for the 7:30 show, and not only was it sold out but so was the 8:30, do we want to see it at 10 PM? no thanks, so it was Eminem and Bulimia girl in the trailer park Saturday Night fever. Pretty ok flick, the best part is the battle at the end, eminem kicks some serious ass and takes down some intriguing names. Well he doesn't literally put he does metaphorically.
8-Mile came a day before Ya-Ya. You see, I was faced with the truth of the matter by a convincing Mrs. P at the video store that I had chosen 8-Mile and most of the movies we've seen recently, and I couldn't find any better alternative than Sexy Beast and therefore I was painted in a corner with the only exit marked with a sign that read "ya ya." Ya know, really, it wasn't THAT bad, but they could have made it better and shit, so much drama for some alcoholic beYatch with a self-sympathy issue. That and the stereotypical Irish/Scottish whatever he was fiancee with the witty remarks and worldy wisdom and yada yada yada.
Floated around in the ocean yesterday as the rain clouds gathered. Cold at first then swam for about 50 yards and then warm and bueno. Dove down and ran my hands through the sand, dug down and found grey sand under white sand under the crap sand they're importing into Lanikai now because the sandbags are holding back mother ocean. Load up the sand and protect those million dollar houses. Can't have Carlos Escobar's summer pad getting wet behind the gills, now can we?
Now, see, I went through this whole post without mentioning the Raiders, see I'm not here to bore you with sports crap, really, I'm here to give you a peek into Alf-Central, the land where game recognizes game. In the bank main, chillin in the bank, main.
Wait, did I say I saw Ya-Ya Sisterhood? oh ha ha, I meant, I took my Wah Wah into the hood. yeah, my wah wah pedal, ya know, cuz I did a big guitar solo concert in South Central Kalihi last night, ah confusion my bitter enemy yet intimate friend. I mean, you know, I'm way too tough and cool to watch ya-ya sisterhood or any affiliated pelicula.
I mean I'm a hairy buffed out claw poppin gangsta. And the cristal's on ice.