The Elliptical Machine

What's wrong with this picture?



That's right, there's a man on an elliptical machine.

Does it ever snow in Florida? Once in a lifetime.

The Healthy Water That Makes Me Wonder What's So Watery About It

I had my first Vitamin Water today. Some Europeans pronounce it as "vit-a-min," rhyming with the beautiful word bitumen. I pronounce it: "murky."

I purchased the cloudy-white lemonade-flavored multi-vitamin styled Vitamin Water, and began to wonder. It tasted nothing like water. It looked like someone took a Centrum Silver and dropped the pill into my water.

Sure, it tasted somewhat good, but when I was done, I felt like I had swallowed some of the buffet space at Golden Corral.

On a side note, when I was done with the drink, I had grown thick chest hair and had gone through three divorces and had signed a contract to star in the next Planet of the Apes. Strange. Vitamin Water packs a punch.

The Awkward Conversation

Mr. A: "Hey, how are you doing?"
Mr. B: "Great. How about yourself?"
Mr. A: "I'm good."

Then there's a pause..

It's just enough time for me to regret not saying: "All right, well that was good. I think that went very well. Buh-bye now."

Goodbye, Heath

You were one of my favorites, because you were young, and wildly talented.

There were a few bad films there, such as The Order and The Brothers Grimm, but you still held your own in Ned Kelly and I'm Not There.

I'm glad The Dark Knight finished filming before you passed. A perfect final note, if you ask me.

Sincerely,
Greg

The Marsden Look

Two different friends told me yesterday that I look like James Marsden.

You can see him in 27 Dresses, if you think it's worth $9.

Personally, I don't see it. I'm going to go ahead and take the compliment, but also calling me Cyclops of the X-Men series is not very flattering.

I have never met a person that likes Cyclops. I don't want to know anyone that likes Cyclops.

There is something to be made of this time, this 4:31am!

There are things to do, books to read, air to breathe.

I have writing to do, yes, glorious writing. I must transform a bad short story of mine into a screenplay for Dear Mary, yes, I must do it soon, lest I forget.

I have other writing to get done as well, but I have no vision for it. I don't know where to go. I'm lost in the unused double space of the white pages. I have journals upon journals now all asking for words but I have run dry. I can't focus on one...

There is music to listen to!

I must shower, I must shave. I must attempt to make myself feel pretty. The sun will rise soon and people will be awake and they will surely see me either in the store or at the Chinese food place around the corner as I place my order for the sesame chicken combo (#2) with extra MSG.

I must blog. I must use the word "blog" without feeling embarrassment or shame in using the word. It's only an abbreviation, Greg. You don't distrust most abbreviations, do you Greg?

That'd be a shame, at this hour.

The Handheld Camera

I have not seen Cloverfield, but I can tell you why it will be horrible:

It is entirely filmed with handheld digital cameras. Another reason would be that the monster attacking New York is not, in fact, Godzilla. Heartbreak.

Handheld digital cameras ruined the Bourne trilogy. Did anyone notice how all the action scenes in the last two movies were almost unrecognizable? Show some professionalism and use a damn tripod once in a while. It won't hurt the narrative. Really.

Don't get me wrong--the occasional handheld camera shot can do extraordinary things, but lets not make the audience dizzy. I consider the use of handheld digital cameras in filming a movie the same as starting a story with: "So, this one time, right, I was just walking along..."

In other words, no one will give a damn.

The Plumber's Ass

The plumber came and went today.

The bathroom sink is no longer puking up broccoli and carrots that went down the kitchen sink. The bathroom doesn't smell like refuse. It's closer in scent now to a men's locker room. Vast improvement.

Cleanliness is next to godliness and I guess I just can't live with those who don't have a God-complex. I've learned old houses are fun and aesthetically pleasing but are also not fun and can be aesthetically terrifying.

I'm done with "ass" titles too, so exhale.

The Class Ass

Teacher: "And now your take on the film's cinematography?"

Me: "Sunset Blvd. opens with the camera rolling backwards, looking down at the pavement so the audience cannot see anything. We are not part of the story yet. We then see the police driving over the horizon towards us (headlights on, very ominous for a shot) and they fly by, and the camera does a quick swivel to follow them. The audience is merely a spectator on the side of the road. The camera then follows the police to the crime scene, where we find Joe's body in the pool, from the back. The underside shot that exposes his face signifies a transition: from this point on, we follow him. Later the camera moves with him in every way. This keeps with the film-noir tradition, and even when he drops his keys, the camera looks down for them, just as Joe does."

Teacher: "Thank you."

The Descriptive Ass

There is something intriguing walking up the stairs.

It's a pair of sweatpants hugging an ass and explaining all about that ass, in one word.

And they are not cheap, either!
This damsel spent nearly $100 for the articulate sweatpants.

Is this to provide some excuse for a creep walking along? "Sorry, just reading, lady."

I feel a bit of shame if I happen to look up while walking up stairs and a woman in tight pants is just ahead of me.

Let alone if she's trying to teach me the color of pink or explaining how firm her behind is.

I think I'm done blogging.

What's the point, really?

I'm still weighing the decision.
The blog is so "random" as I've heard many times now, and there's no denying that.

Blogging really has become an exercise in finding pictures and placing them correctly within somewhat grammatical comments that sometimes are humorous.

What can be learned from my blog:
1. I enjoy movies, and see many of them.
2. I have no ability for coherent thought.

So we'll see, one or two readers.

The Orphanage, The Omen, The Bad Seed, Chucky, The Ring, The Grudge, Children of the Damned, The Exorcist...

All movies making me not want to have children.

I guess there is something genuinely frightening about having a three foot version of yourself with a huge head and round eyes and an attitude.

Jesus, this one is not to be passed up.

Sorry for the lack of updates.

I've been studying The Gold Diggers of 1933 for my film studies class, and I've been delivering papers to get signed to Professor Mary, and I've been reading bad Jack Kerouac, and I've been playing Doom for a joke of a class, and I've been.

We Dance At Weddings

The time has come for marriage. Not yours, of course.

The ring has been presented. Drinks have been poured. The cake has been eaten. It's time to dance.

Your father shows you how. He will show you how to do everything, if asked.













And there is always the open bar.

Good Person: Ralph Lauren

Dear Mr. Lauren,

I've never met you. But you have wonderful taste in clothes. I would give anything for these two outfits. How I wish I was in your polo club!

I'm tired of tearing the inside knees of my pants.








Who doesn't want to retire in this classy number?

Caution: Falling Ice

By the time I found myself in downtown Chicago, the snow had turned to brown mud and slosh. Buildings put out their "Caution: Falling Ice" signs to fend off lawsuits.

"Your building provided the surface for which the ice slid off of and ended the life of my husband Earl!"

I spent a few hours walking around, mainly looking for a new overcoat, because I still have a valuable kidney to sell. Trump decided to leave a mark on the city. I think my neck still hurts from looking up at it.

Something about the cold, wet city made me wish I lived there as an adult. Grew thicker skin.

I'm flying out to Chicago for a wedding later this morning. I might come back with pictures. I might come back with pneumonia.

Please leave a message after the beep.

I could have done something with my life.

I need a dog.

Namely so I can buy it these classy printed shirts:

My dog would be the cock of the walk, baby.


All obnoxious Dog T's available at Target retail stores.

When I was young and stupid I thought Jack Nicholson played an unbeatable Joker.

I'm not so sure anymore.

Heath Ledger makes for a scary Joker in The Dark Knight.