Thursday, February 7, 2008

Stuck in My Head Pt. 1: Rappers in Space have Nothing to do with this Post

It's late. I ain't tired. Figured I'd scribble a few thoughts down here in the ole ABNB! blog. Give some thoughts on things I've seen recently, links to stuff I think is cool, drop some notes on stuff I have planned. Let's start with stuff I got planned...

Right now I'm in the middle of a review for Fantastic 4: rise of the Silver Surfer. That'll be done soon. I actually have a short list of reviews I'd like to finish up by next week, so that would be cool. I'm also planning to take time to write up a profile piece on Sylvester Stallone for my "Stud of the Month" feature. I don't think it's going to stay as "Stud of the Month" though. The more I think about it, the more it sounds like some kind of gay, beefcake porn mag article, rather than a celebration of Guy Movie action stars. If anyone has any cool ideas on what to call it, I'm all ears.

So far the blog is performing better than I could have expected. I'm clocking hits in the teens each day, which is a shock. I'd like to thank Shannon Tweed for all of her support. I didn't realize there were that many people still interested in either reading about her career, or looking at non-nude pictures of her. She still has the magic, I guess -- and I'm happy to ride its coattails to monster hits. I'd also like to thank the movies Cloverfield and There Will Be Blood. A few people have been kind enough to check out my reviews of those flicks via the external reviews option over at IMDb.

I wonder what goes through someone's mind when they're looking for movie reviews over there. Like let's say Steve wants to read what others think about There Will Be Blood, but doesn't trust the big media critics. He clicks on the external reviews link and is presented a rather long (and growing) list of links -- each one linking to a review of the movie. As he scrolls he eventually sees the link I put up -- the one titled "All Balls No Brains!" -- and decides that that's a worthy link to click on. Now, if you were Steve, and you wanted to read a review of an independent art house movie made by an art house filmmaker about a turn-of-the-century oil man, does "All Balls No Brains!" sound like a link you'd be apt to click on? If it does, then I like you very much.

This blogspot thing is pretty cool. I like the easily customizable templates it provides. I'm still playing around with mine, so if changes occur, don't lose your cool.

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I've been fascinated lately by a fellow named JD Ryznar. You've probably never heard of him, but if you have, you'll recognize him as the creator and one of the stars of the great Internet based TV show, Yacht Rock. Well, I think he's really funny. He makes me laugh all the time. I'm jealous of his beard. Anyway, he has a new show he's doing now called Visits With JD, and the premise is simple -- he invites a friend over, they do something fun, and then hang out while listening to music. The shows have ranged about eight minutes or so, and involved everything from the creation of dating videos to political raps to staring a business to even drinking and driving. It's simple and effective and a whole lot of fun. His dog -- a chihuahua named Fancy Ray -- acts as his Ed McMahon, and his band is his eclectic collection of vinyl records and turntable. I urge you to see it if you have the time. If you're a really busy person, you probably shouldn't check it out, because it will keep you from getting stuff done, and that would be bad.



How's my grammar so far? Would I irritate a lit major to death or what? Sometimes, I'll just sit at the computer and start typing. Then, I'll go back and try to read what I just wrote, and I'll be like, "Jesus Christ, what retard wrote this? Punctuations all wrong, they used where when they should have used were, not to mention all those extra and unnecessary o's tacked onto those to's. This person is a moron."

I hit my head yesterday as I was going to work. Bumped it pretty good. It was dark, and I couldn't see the tree branch, but it could see me, and decided to give me a hard thwack on the dome. When I touched it, I got blood on my hands. I figured, "Gee, it's a good thing I have a hat!" I put the hat on and let the gash bleed, coagulate, and dry all day. Nobody knew, because of the hat. I work with food -- the hat was essential that day. Nobody wants to by food prepared by a guy with a visible bleeding wound on his head. I wouldn't want to by food from that guy -- unless he was wearing gloves, and a hat, then it would be okay. It didn't hurt -- the bleeding wound under the hat -- because I'm a real man, and real men don't feel pain. When I touch it now, it feels rock solid -- like a giant booger. Maybe that's why I can't stop picking at it? My desire is to grab it, and start peeling it off, but that would just make it bleed again, and I don't think it's worth the trouble. Plus, I'm wearing my favorite hoodie -- my Green Bay Packer hoodie. It's green with the team logo on it, and the words "Property of..." over it. I think in a not so subtle way, my own hoodie is calling me a whore, but I don't mind, because if it is, it's true. I have a Green Bay Packer lunchbox -- you can't get more whorish than that.

I'm thinking about making ABNB! not just about Guy Movies, but also about other things that are certifiably Guy, without committing to any one thing. I think a lack of commitment to any one thing, but rather a general focus on lots of things, is itself a completely Guy way of doing things, therefore making this a more honest and relatable blog. So, yeah, maybe I'll do that. Not like it matters what else I write -- if I want readers, I'll just profile another hot woman, slap up some pictures, and watch that hit ticker rack up the big numbers.

I didn't realize "relatable" isn't a real word. Is it relatible? Relateable? Relatuble? Weird. I use that word all the time, and it doesn't exist.

But if it doesn't exist, how can I use it? I'm confused.

I think I may have just opened a grammatical wormhole paradox that will destroy the universe as we know it over the coarse of the next hundred thousand years. Better start enjoying the years we have left!

Keep your balls clean.

Shannon Tweed, Shannon Tweed, Shannon Tweed, Shannon Tweed, Shannon Tweed, Shannon Tweed, Shannon Tweed, Shannon Tweed, Shannon Tweed, Shannon Tweed, Shannon Tweed, Shannon Tweed, Shannon Tweed, Shannon Tweed, Shannon Tweed, Shannon Tweed, Shannon Tweed, Shannon Tweed, Shannon Tweed, Shannon Tweed -- and the hits keep on comin', baby!

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