Get Over It, Hag

So Danielle Fishel was on Tyra Banks with Lance Bass this week. I saw this clip on another blog and my mouth just dropped. This chick is just plain nuts. She tries to cover up her crazy with some laughs and a big smile; but it's not fooling anyone. She's still completely in love with the Bass Master. She tells us about 100 times how in love she and Lance were . Then she brings out her Obsession Box.

She reminded me of a certain someone:

More GG food for thought...

When Kongye mentioned Vanessa's wikipedia description, I remembered something... interesting, shall we say?

Dan Humphrey: "He has had several writing-related jobs, including a poem called "Sluts" published in the The New Yorker; an internship at Red Letter, a prominent literary magazine; and a short stint as songwriter/lead singer for indie-rock sensation The Raves."

Jenny Humphrey: "During her freshman year at Constance Billard, a very exclusive private school in New York City, she ruins her reputation by supposedly sleeping with The Raves (a popular band)."

Dan Humphrey: "He has a very close relationship with his sister, Jenny..." (Emphasis mine.)

You know, it's almost like this is implying something...

30 Days of Shite

"SKREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!"

Yes, we watched 30 Days of Night. I can't even begin to go into how stupid this movie was right now, so instead I'm going to start out by responding to some of the points made in Newsarama's fellatioreview of the movie:

Well, 30 Days of Night—is not—a direct, panel by panel remake of Steve Niles and Ben Templesmith’s original graphic novel—it’s actually…better.
Replace "graphic novel" with "failed movie pitch" and "better" with "even more simplistic" and this is a correct statement.

30 Days of Night is enhanced by a newfound sense of character development and non-one liner dialog.
HAHAHA BULLSHIT. There is no character development in this movie. NONE. In 2 hours there is absolutely zero character development for anyone, and the entire supporting cast is completely interchangeable. As for the "no one liners," bitch please. Yeah, there aren't any one liners because Steve Niles isn't clever enough to write a goddamn one liner. There are plenty of lines that attempt to be one liners but fall flat on their face, though.

Let me repeat that—there really aren’t any cute Hollywood one-liners in this film. Even the trailer, sporting the now-infamous clip of Marlow saying, “No God,” bears a certain gravitas that doesn’t dismiss the moment as iconic.
Gravitas? I assume gravitas refers to the 10 second pause as Danny Huston stares around the abandoned town after asking "God?" for no reason other than to prove how retarded he can look before busting out his comeback ("NO GOD!"). I was falling out of my chair laughing. Total gravitas, guys. (I should add that although they refer to Huston as "Marlow" here, there is nothing in the movie to indicate that any of the vampires have names at all.) Also, the lack of intentional one liners seriously hurt this movie. I mean seriously, when your movie is a goddamn joke anyway you can at least attempt to make it intentionally funny for at least one scene.

Basically, 30 Days of Night transcends one medium to a new medium the way 300 or Sin City has—
Fixated with shitty action and possessing all the thematic depth of a kiddy pool? Yeah, that's a pretty accurate description of all three of these overrated shitfests. (Although neither 30 Days of Night or Sin City come close to matching 300's artistic vision of "gayest Xbox game ever.")

Typical to movies—audiences have to have a connection to the imperiled in this type of film. Granted, none of these human characters, beyond Stella and Eben Oleson, are iconic or memorable, but that was intentional. They are food.
This line cracks me up as the reviewer struggles to rationalize how awful this script is while still hanging onto the money he was paid to ensure a glowing review. "Well, normally you're supposed to identify with the characters, but it's okay that you don't in this one because they're deliberately supposed to be shitty to make the movie work." Sure thing, guys. Also, if the standard has fallen so low that we're describing Eben and Stella as "iconic" or "memorable," then I feel that I should mention the iconic and memorable dinner I had at Popeye's fried chicken yesterday.

From the standpoint of the talent—Josh Hartnett is Eben Oleson—any fan of the original material can feel it.
I have to agree here, Hartnett was utterly perfect for the part. In the comic, Eben had absolutely no identifiable personality whatsoever, and since Hartnett is completely incapable of portraying human emotion I can hardly think of a better actor to play Eben

All told, 30 Days of Night’s not a “jump out and scare you” kind of horror movie-
Yeah, because that would imply that Niles would have to come up with with a scenario where a vampire attack would be an unexpected surprise. Or that this movie was scary in the first place.

It’s an eerie movie which is tonally accurate to the original source, and even though there are a number of changes from the original story, they were made more out of the necessity of storytelling logic and for the intent of unifying certain thematic elements.
Yeah guys, I know when I think "eerie," I think "vampire attacks in super choppy fast motion with high pitched screaming playing the entire time." This shit is as "eerie" as Dane Cook is "subtle." And let's focus on some of the "storytelling logic " on display here in the revised plot, solely focusing on one of the additional locations:

• The people of the town have the ultimate goal of reaching "The Utilador" a structure that apparently exists solely to house a gigantic trash compactor. This structure is so far out of town that they remark that they need a car to get to it and spend 7 days hiding in an attic, 11 in an abandoned convenience store, and 9 in a police station before they head to it.
• Remember when they said they needed a car? On day 27 they walk to the Utilador.
• THE UTILADOR IS SO CLOSE TO TOWN THAT YOU CAN SEE THE MAIN STREET OF TOWN OUT THE WINDOW. SERIOUSLY, IT'S LIKE 30 FEET AWAY.
• The trash compactor at the utilador is in the movie solely so that they can throw a vampire into it and kill him quickly. However, when Josh Harnett's deputy is infected, Hartnett opts to slowly and laboriously hack his head off with an axe and leave the corpse lying on the floor to stink up the place instead of disposing it. Why? Because in 2 days, he's going to need to shoot up vampire blood in order to fistfight a vampire.

This isn't storytelling logic, it's a collection of logistical plotholes you could drive a fucking truck through. At least in the comic there was a reason for an infected corpse to be lying around so Eben could infect himself instead of spending 2 days with a rotting dead body lying directly in front of a device that was written into the movie solely for the purposes of corpse disposal.

LEARN TO WRITE, STEVE

Okay, now for my own thoughts. It's no secret that this movie exists as a comic solely because it failed as a movie pitch the first time around. The main reason that it failed is because when it comes to writing, Steve Niles is, quite honestly, an utter hack. He can come up with some moderately inspired horror concepts, but when it comes time for dialogue, characterization, and actual plotting, he completely falls apart. It's quite telling that he made first break into comics with adaptations of Richard Matheson's I am Legend and Clive Barker's Rawhead Rex rather than any of his own ideas. His success in the comics field seems to be mainly because he manages to be a nice guy (unless he's bringing you onboard a fake project in order to steal your girlfriend, but that's another story,) and attract some of the most talented artists in comics. Seriously, looking over Niles' resume is like a who's who of some of the best regarded artists in their field. Bill Sienkiewicz, Ben Templesmith, Richard Corben, Ashley Wood, Tim Bradstreet, not to mention his co-writing gigs with Rob Zombie and Thomas Jane. So when it comes to comics, he can attract some incredibly talented collaborators that cover up his own glaring deficiencies as a writer. Movies, however, are another issue.

Without the stylized art to distract you, you will quickly realize that this story is stupid. Like, stupid stupid. Iredeemably stupid, really. The supposed "reenvisioning" of vampires he presents is profoundly dumb. They run around with their faces smeared with dried blood, communicating mainly through nonstop high-pitched screaming and occasionally delivering subtitled dialogue in a stupid vampire language that sounds like Klingon. Quite frankly, they're hilarious. Half of them look and act like they have Down's syndrome, they scream all the fucking time, and their leader, as portrayed by Danny Huston, is ridiculous.

(I do have to give credit for one thing, though. The scene where Danny Huston kneels down in front of a puddle of blood, checks his reflection, then decides it's time to slick back his buzzcut with a handfull of blood is one of the most sublimely stupid bits of extraneous villainy you will see in theaters this year. I'm inclined to believe that this was probably Huston's idea, because the rest of the script demonstrates that the writers probably aren't capable of anything remotely clever or intentionally campy.)

The progression of time in this movie is completely fucked, by the way. With no way of actually demonstrating that time is passing aside from clumsy "DAY (insert number here)" captions popping up at random intervals whenever the cast arbitrarily moves to another location, the only visual cue we have to signify the progress of time is Hartnett's scraggly pube-beard. Fittingly, it stops growing after day 7 and remains the same length for roughly the next 22 days. I had the same complaint about the comic, but really from a storytelling point of view, this story does not portray "30 days of night." At the most, it conveys about 30 hours of night.

Oh, and the characters are nonexistant. None of them have discernable personalities, and the only one with any actual backstory gives it through hamfisted exposition immediately before Hartnett cuts his head off with an axe. Thanks for your life story dude, but really nobody cares about your dead kid when you're gonna get killed offscreen in 30 seconds anyway. Also, when you introduce a character, relegate him to the background and forget about him for an hour, there's really no way to give his death any emotional weight, so don't even bother trying. Aside from that, there's a bunch of interchangeable males so undifferentiated that I forgot who was who and what their respective roles were about 45 minutes into the movie.

Oh, and in case you still want to see this movie after reading this, Josh Hartnett turns into a vampire and kills Danny Huston, who somehow manages to jump mouthfirst onto Hartnett's fist and impale his own head on it in the lamest climax to a fight scene ever. Then Hartnett and his estranged wife watch the sun rise, with predictable results. I just saved you $11.

Drink? Don't mind if I do. Maybe this will dull the pain of watching this movie

The only upside of this experience was that Jekyll & Hyde liquor sponsored the afterparty, and as a result, we were getting shitloads of free merchandise, not to mention shot after shot of liquor being handed out to us for free. I think during the 45 minutes spent at the afterparty I consumed at 5 shots of liquor, a can and a half of Monster energy drink, and a pint of beer as women in nurse's outfits asked me to pose for pictures while handing me free alcohol. Kongye had at least 2 shots, a pint of beer, and half a can of Monster. In addition, we each walked out with several T-shirts, a deck of playing cards, and a set of stainless steel flasks. (We aren't supposed to mention those according to the merchandise girls, but whatever.)

Anyway, the liquor itself is a decent alternative to Jagermeister with an interesting presentation. The setup is this: The berry flavored "Jekyll" liquor goes at the bottom of the shot, topped by the herbal flavored "Hyde" liquor, resulting in a shot that starts out like Jager and ends with a comparatively mellow raspberry flavor. It's a decent enough shooter if you don't mind the excessively sweet flavor and somewhat gimmicky nature of the drink. Hopefully Kongye will comment more on it, as she apparently woke up craving more of it the next day, only to be thwarted by its scarcity in Manhattan liquor stores.

Viva Laughlin - oh my god I hate this shit

What did we do to make us deserve this?

You may think I am being extreme when I say Viva Laughlin is one of the worst shows ever produced. You have not yet seen this show, so you do not understand. It truly is that bad. This show is to television what child molestation is to sex. It takes something potentially beautiful and cruelly warps it into something disturbing and repugnant for its own sick amusement.

Lord Douchebag Von Asshole surveys his domain

Meet Ripley Holden, aspiring casino owner and loathesome fucking douchebag. He treats his children like shit and ignores his wife in order to sink his life into a casino (named "Viva!") that he does not have the money to open. He has a history of cheating on his wife, he attempts to buy his son's affection with expensive cars, and his emotional neglect has left his daughter so starved for attention that she begins dating a college professor who might be even older than her father.

And just so we're clear, this is the protagonist. The way the pilot is set up, we're expected to find him roguishly charming and likable.

Did I mention he's also a horrible singer?

That's right, this show has goddamn musical numbers. However, the producers insist that the show is not a musical, and CBS has been trying to avoid this fact for most of their ad campaign, all with good reason. This is because if the overall repugnance of the cast doesn't alienate their audience, the musical numbers will. Seriously, they are fucking awful. Now, I'm not saying that musical numbers cannot be incorporated into a televised serial drama. The BBC productions of the late Dennis Potter's The Singing Detective and Pennies from Heaven both used musical interludes to masterful dramatic effect. The difference here is that Dennis Potter was one of the greatest screenwriters ever born, whereas the writing staff of Viva Laughlin apparently wrote the pilot while huffing spraypaint out of a lunchbag. Let's watch another one of these chestnuts and try to figure out where they went wrong:

Now, Hugh Jackman is an extremely talented performer who I have nothing but admiration for. His portrayal of Wolverine was one of the primary factors behind my fanatical love of the first two X-Men movies, so I can't argue he's unlikeable, and he won a Tony in 2004 for his role in The Boy from Oz, so I can't argue that he's a bad performer when it comes to musical numbers. However, I don't care if you're the best singer in the history of musical theater, when you're doing a butchered karaoke version of "Sympathy for the Devil," you do not want want Mick Jagger's voice playing alongside you to remind people just how immeasurably better he is at singing the song than you are. Sadly, this is still the best musical number featured in the pilot. Aside from this, you will be treated to another one of Asshole Von Douchetoven's Elvis covers as well as the vomit-inducing nadir of the show wherein he dry-humps Melanie Griffith while they butcher Blondie's "One Way or Another."

Yes, you read that right. Melanie Griffith is in this show. Take a look at the following montage and while you're holding back the bile, remember that this was actually put together by CBS to promote the show:

At this point, it's easy to question what kind of a god would allow a creature such as this to exist. The fact of the matter is that Melanie Griffith is a Lich Queen who walks among us to harvest souls for her dark master, the ravenous Bal-Shoggoth.

SEXY.

To add to the overwhelming classiness of Ripley "Douchenozzle" Holden, remember when I mentioned that he cheated on his wife? This is what he was cheating on her with. In the image we're looking at, he is currently informing her that he is rolling for initiative on his "Turn Undead" spell. Just kidding, he's actually trying to tell her that he doesn't want to toss his hotdog down the cavernous, diseased hallway that is her nether regions even though he needs her to help him con her husband into investing in his dead-end casino for white trash too poor to stay in Vegas. Except he doesn't actually need her to con anyone, because her husband turns up dead in Ripley's office that very night, coincidentally while Ripley is avoiding his home and family the entire night and drinking bottles of hard liquor alone in his car. This seems like an airtight alibi to me.

So naturally, the cops get involved, Douchelington becomes the primary suspect, and that's where Detective Peter Carlyle comes in.

"Oh hey, fancy meeting you here in the driveway of your own house. It's kind of funny how we keep running into each other whenever you go outside to get into your car. And then we meet again wherever you end up driving to. Have you cut your hair recently?"

Detective Carlyle, a.k.a. Stalky Stalkerson, figures that the best way to prove a suspect's guilt is by stalking and having sex with the suspect's wife. I wonder why Chris Meloni never realized the brilliant simplicity of this approach throughout his long tenure on Law & Order: SVU. So anyway, Stalky accosts Douchey's wife on numerous occasions throughout the episode, posing as a prospective homeowner in their gated community. While meeting her in such secluded romantic getaways as her driveway and the produce aisle of the supermarket, he subtly probes her for information in a manner that can only be described as entrapment. Meanwhile, he's thinking about a different kind of probing while positioning that ass for enTAPment.

Aside from this parade of living excrement, we've got Douchelord threatening to beat the shit out of his daughter's boyfriend, his son selling his car so Douchebag can sink the money into the financial black hole that is his casino, Douchemonger's pathetic attempts to salvage his failing marriage while he is clearly incapable of expressing human emotion, Hugh Jackman's personal assistant running around making bedroom eyes at both Hugh and The Lich Queen, and a bunch of other shit I drank myself to sleep for a week after viewing in order to forget.

Despite the fact that Viva Laughlin has been universally derided as one of the worst shows of the season along with Cavemen and Big Shots, CBS picked this up for 13 episodes. I doubt even half of them will air. Then again, if CBS had any dignity at all, they would have never even allowed the pilot to make it to the public, so there's always the chance that this will be raping the airwaves for its full order of episodes.

Verdict: Fuck you.

Would I Watch It? I cannot reiterate enough how much the very existence of this show fills me to the core with loathing.

Fox Reality Awards- The Very Mean and Not-Suitable-for-Children Review

FOX REALITY CHANNEL REALLY AWARDS- Oh my God, this show was even more of a train wreck than I could have imagined. The thought of all these attention-seeking losers piled into a shitty nightclub in Hollywood celebrating each other's fame-whoring is enough to make my head explode. The highlight of the night may have been when they trotted out that crying girl from American Idol . Oops, I meant THIS crying girl (I could only handle 4 seconds of that shit, if you want more, search for yourself). They bring her out and apparently that fat little moron is still weeping at the sight of Yesterday's News. More importantly, 2 minutes after the 10-year-old comes on, show hostess Kennedy tells us that they have a hot tub full of whores from HBO's Cat House backstage and shows us footage of the hos taking off their bikinis and rubbing their tits into random douche's faces. Classy and family-friendly! The rest of the show was a parade of cheese and stupidity, topped off by Fox Reality milking that incident where The Original Firecrotch knocked out some other reality asshole's teeth. How appropriate that a show honouring attention-seekers would stage a ridiculous publicity stunt like this.