The new X-Men should be rented, and not watched in a theater.

Because you’d much rather have the bad taste fill your mouth while you’re in the comforts of your own home, instead of having it invade while you’re in a crowded theater, with no place to run.

And I’m saying this as someone who loves the X-Men. As far as comic movies are concerned, I liked the X-Men franchise the best even though the screenwriters had manipulated the comic book story lines for mainstream consumption. It was still satisfying, nerd-fare.

But then…BRETT RATNER took over for Brian Singer…but I like Brett Ratner. Even though he’s whoring himself to Lindsay Lohan, he directed both Rush Hour movies–which starred my sweet-tooth Jackie Chan—and therefore Ratner is good in my book.

Until he did this mockery of a comic series I loved. Not enough character development, too monotonous in certain scenes, no focus on the characters the fans really wanted to see again for the last time. It left me unsatisfied—there was much to be desired…and, ultimately I left the theater quite depressed.

I know the point of the movie was to bring to the forefront that this was going to be the final X-Men film…but I don’t think so many loose ends needed to be tied up to usher in impending doom. Did all those things really have to happen? Did all that misery have to be written in? And did all those useless side-bar characters have to be introduced?

I can’t help be feel robbed…

So now I must go and find my X-2 DVD so I can erase the pain X-Men 3 left behind.

 

I have occassionally been the lucky recipient of clockwork bowel movements–and nothing is more liberating than having to poo at the same time every day. This usually happens whenever I come back from Hawaii or Taiwan…and for some reason, I’ll have to take a dump every morning. It’s refreshing…rejuvenating…and takes a load (pun intended! pun intended!) off my mind (but let’s not read that into meaning I believe my mind is equivalent to my butt).

However, apparently my body feels that I deserve some form of punishment for—I don’t know what. And thus, lately I have had to poo in the middle of the night. It’s becoming quite the distraction…I’ll be dreaming that I’m sitting in a law school exam, and the subsequent oppression starts to manifest itself in the form of physical pain. But when I wake up, I’ll realize the pain comes from a large mass of gas forming in my intestines–a sign that I need to poop NOW.

So here’s what I’m thinking…my intestines took a vacation to Zimbabwe or something…and so now they’re jetlagged. Hence, when they feel the need to drop some baggage, they’re running on Zimbabwe time—which is equivalent to midnight in California (naturally, I didn’t bother to calculate this).

My intestines better get it together SOON, or else I’m going to have to start taking some action on my own: spicy-ass food (not, “ass food” as in suppositories…it’s more as in “really spicy”).

I am a genius!

There is something about me that makes me really, really, really love playing games where I get to control people (i.e. RPG’s, The Sims, etc.)…which is why I have become super duper obsessed with the game “Black & White 2”. This habit somehow insinuates that I have a complex of some sort…but I wonder which one.

 An inferiority complex, in the fields of psychology and psychoanalysis, is a feeling that one is inferior to others in some way. It is often unconscious, and is thought to drive afflicted individuals to overcompensate, resulting either in spectacular achievement or extreme antisocial behavior. Unlike a normal feeling of inferiority, which can act as an incentive for achievement, an inferiority complex is an advanced state of discouragement, often resulting in a retreat from difficulties.

Or is it…

Narcissism is a defense mechanism related to the splitting defense mechanism. The narcissist fails to regard other people, situations, or entities (political parties, countries, races, his workplace) as a compound of good and bad elements. He either idealizes his object, or devalues it. Things are seen in black and white; the object is either all good or all bad. The bad attributes are always projected, displaced, or otherwise externalized. The good ones are internalized in order to support the inflated (grandiose) self-concepts of the narcissist and his grandiose fantasies, as well as to avoid the pain of deflation and disillusionment.

The narcissist pursues narcissistic supply (attention, both positive and negative) and uses it to regulate his, often, fragile and fluctuating sense of self-worth.

Wikipedia seems to say that I have an inferiority complex–but I used to have a superiority complex until I realized two weeks ago that it is not normal to have a hemorrhoid at 24 (I knew I should have changed toilet paper brands sooner).

Which makes sense because if ever there was a game that let me carry out “spectacular overachievement” it would indeed be Black & White. Picture it…

In the game, you get to be a god to these oppressed Greeks who have been decimated by the Aztecs (somewhat strange, considering Aztecs were from Mexico…which isn’t too close to Greece as I recall). Anyway, you save some refugees and relocate them to a distant land where you have to rebuild their civilization and then eventually take over the world. You can do this either by being diplomatic–essentially a good god–or you can do this by killing and pillaging–which is obviously the bad god. And since the world is almost completely interactive, EVERYTHING you do affects your goodness/badness ratio.

For instance, I accidentally de-hutted one of my worshippers. He was asking me to move a boulder off of his property, but because I wasn’t too savvy with the mouse, I ended up dropping the boulder on his grass hut. Then all these red “EVIL” words started popping up around the broken hut…which I suppose means I have become a bit more bad ass. Whatever…it was funny as hell.

I think the best part about the whole game is that you get this pet–which I suppose is like the middle-man (or middle-beast, I guess) between the people and me. The beast runs around and helps the citizens…but you have to teach it things first. Like…when you first get the animal (mine is a wolf…I picked him because he dances) and it needs to go take a dump, it immediately runs towards a villager and says “I’m going to poop on the villager!” But I was zoomed far away so I couldn’t reprimand it…by the time I zoomed in, this old woman was surrounded by large, animal feces. I had to smack my wolf around to teach it not to poop on people…

(…Wish my parents had taught me that though. It probably would have saved me a couple of friends. WER-WER.)

Has anyone paid attention to those Budweiser “Real Men of Genius”  commercials?

They’re the best thing that’s ever happened to our society! Right up there on my list next to Big Macs and Final Fantasy.

Here is one of the funniest ones I’ve ever heard: Mr. Really Stinky Breath Breather Outer:

Today, we salute you, Mr. Really Stinky Breath Breather Outer
(Mr. Really Stinky Breath Breather Outer)
Though we’d never tell you to your face,
You’ve got the breath that could stop a charging elephant.
(Show us some mercy)
We want to hear what you have to say,
we just want you to say it from way over there.
(Keep on going)
What was it you had for lunch, a dead rat, a rotten egg, a turd sandwich?
(nasty turd sandwich)
Whatever it was, it just singed off my eyelashes.
(oh)
So, crack open an ice cold budlight barnacle breath,
because you put the hell in halitosis.

(Mr. Really Stinky Breath Breather Outer)

[The stuff in the parenthesis denotes parts that this rock-singe person chimes in on in between lines.]

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! *deep breath* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

How come all the cool commercials are the ones I never see? I’m always stuck with the crappy Geico “cartoon gecko lectures real gecko” commercial, and the nightmarish 1-800-DENTIST commercial where the woman over-dramatizes how thankful she is to find a dentist that doesn’t molest her son. (Okay, maybe “molest” isn’t the word, but from her facial expressions you’d swear that was what she intended.)

I have to find more of these Real Men of Genius clips!

2005 commercials

List generated by Wikipedia

Two random strangers rode by me on their bikes today, and both decided to give me the “hey baby” as they passed. Both happened on two separate occassions, many hours apart. These guys had to be homeless or something–or at the very least, unemployed and illegally in the country–and typically, the guys who cat call at me usually are homeless, illegal immigrants.

It makes me wonder: does it ever work? Has the drive-by sexual harassment actually gotten someone’s positive attention, and resulted in a meaningful relationship? Or do these guys just do it to be annoying and ruin someone’s day?

I don’t really get it…but then again, I’m a basket case and don’t trust guys who take the initiative to put moves on me. I always end up believing that they’re all rapists who are registered on some sex-offender website. I mean, one night I was at the Ivy and a then unattached Brad Pitt came up to me and asked me for my number–but I mistook him for a guy I saw on America’s Most Wanted and kicked him in the groin…and then I did a reenactment of the scene in the movie “Troy” when Achilles drags Hector’s body through the sand, except in this version I dragged Brad Pitt through a pile of my own feces…

But I digress…

How come only raggedy homeless people say “hey baby” to me? What is it about me that makes them think I’ll reciprocate their advances? Granted, I dress pretty badly and I haven’t been taking care of myself much lately…but one would think that by wearing a USC sweater over my tattered sweats would at least give me some sort of social leverage: the homeless can’t say hi to me, but all desistute alcoholics living paycheck to paycheck can.

Yes, that’s me throwing up.

It reminds me of a time I had gotten off work and a van full of dirty teenagers opened their window and shouted, “Hey baby, wanna watch the Super Bowl with us?” I’m not sure if I ran away or threw something, but I just remember wondering if they would have picked me up if I had actually said “yes.” Wouldn’t that be terrifying? And I had horrible gas that day, so I’m pretty sure one of those dirty teens would have died in the end.

I guess I’m just asking where these guys get the balls to say things like that to a random woman who is totally out of their league (yes, I can say that about myself). And do they think they have even a remote chance that it’ll work?

Note: That’s unfortunately the best I can do as far as a conclusion goes…as I am falling asleep as I type. Apologies.