Friday, December 26, 2008

Dr. Horrible would be so proud

Okay. These people have no excuse. If they are geeky enough to want to bio-engineer life forms in their garage, then I know for a fact that they are geeky enough to have watched every sci-fi-mad-scientist-creates-thing-that-is-supposed-to-save-mankind-but-turns-into-a-hideous-phlegm-monster-or-turns-people-into-brain-eating-zombies movie ever made. These are the kind of people for whom Mystery Science Theater was invented. What up, my geeks?

And while I applaud the initiative they are taking, I also offer this Asimovian word of caution: glow-in-the-dark bacteria that makes yummy yogurt safe for the world to enjoy = good; a 40-foot strawberry yogurt mutant with lactobacillus minions the size of Volkswagen Beetles = bad. Tinkering with the wee beasties is not for the faint of heart. Lets be careful out there, kids.

Re: Obama Holiday Snaps

To every Russian who ooooed and ahhhed and made a big old fuss over the shirtless pictures of Vladimir Putin from his fishing holiday awhile back: Booya! Take that, beeyotch! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! How ya like that kind of arms escalation!

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Holiday Cheers

Happy Holidays to one and all! Whatever holiday you celebrate. I'm of a mind to celebrate them all. More jollies for me.

And as a holiday tip, I thought I'd share: I got an e-mail from World Market that they are running their Electric Reindeer wines for half-price. I don't know if pricing is consistent across the country, but in my neck of the woods that makes them about $2.50. And it's not a bad low-cost hooch.

But here's something I discovered last Christmas. We found a bottle of the Electric Reindeer White Zinfandel that had been shoved to the back of the cabinet. My guess is that it was 2 years old. I've always heard that the best rule for cheap wine is to drink it immediately. For the most part they don't age well at all. But we decided, what the heck? Popped the cork and found that this particular bottle had turned into something amazing. It tasted like a really expensive Sauternes. Sweet and full-bodied, like peaches and honey. Whatever magic can happen in a wine bottle did. Like an alcoholic Christmas miracle.

Anyway. If you can find the ER White Zin for a couple of bucks, I'd suggest buying 2. One to shove in the back of a cabinet and hope that you'll have a little miracle a couple of years from now. And one to drink right now, just for, ahem, comparison purposes. Cheers, y'all.

Monday, December 22, 2008

To Mock a Killing Bird

My sister called me on Saturday night - "Are you watching SciFi?"

Of course I was.

It was The Lost Treasure of the Grand Canyon, starring Shannon Doherty (henceforth referred to as "That Talentless Whore" or "TTW") and none other than Michael Shanks, Stargate's Daniel Jackson.

When my sister and I lived together (for several years before she committed marriage last summer), one of our favorite things was watching Daniel Jackson getting the crud kicked out of him on SG1. Until he went off for a year and came back less nerdy and more butch. Liked him better nerdy. But even though Daniel changed, we still loved the Shanks.

So my sister and I indulged in at least a half hour of ranking on The Lost Treasure of the Grand Canyon. It was one of those made for SciFi movies that specialize in cheap location shots, one or two name stars, two or three vaguely recognizable supporting actors, lots of really bad production values, except for one really good CGI monster, and a script that I'm pretty sure is produced in a sweatshop somewhere outside of Toronto where dozens of teenage fanboys are forced to copy/past lines out of old Flash Gordon and Land of the Lost scripts. I mean there's just so much to mock. And my sister and I do it so well. "Do you suppose, as an actor, you find yourself playing second-fiddle to That Talentless Whore and suddenly find yourself thinking 'Gee, maybe Dad was right. I should have had a backup plan'?" "Who's the woman with the blond hair? It looks like she's wearing a hat made out of a giant Cinnabon." "Shanks is looking good. Very scruffy." "Yeah, the hanging suspenders look good, but the boots are a little precious. Nice Aztec accent though."

It was kind of nice to have a good old-fashioned mockery session with my sister. I don't think we've done it since she got married. But we're like two old vaudevillians. Once we start that old routine, we just fall right back into the old timing.

A night at the theater

Went to another show last night. My usual season tickets at Theatre 3. I did all my research. The play, Trysts in Toledo (, was written by a 17th Century Mexican nun and proto-feminist, Sor Juana De La Cruz. I was all prepared to watch the period costumes and farcical high jinks (I loves me some jinks, especially the high ones), but unfortunately I spent most of the show chain-sucking cough drops and willing my lungs not to launch into a coughing spasm. Is there anything more embarrassing than hacking your way through a performance?

I did notice a few things through my misery, however.
  1. The rascally, noble brother had a really nicely shaped head. Think Miguel Ferrer, with more hair. And he could pull off a single-pearl dangle earring. Not every man can. Especially in pantaloons.
  2. Even if you’re doing period costumes, you shouldn’t feel forced to do period hair. The one blond dude in the cast had a conspicuous lack of product in his flaxen locks, and it was starting to frighten the women-folk. Even if you want to be true to an era that did not have mousse, throw some bacon grease in the boy’s head. That wafty ‘fro was very distracting. Good actor. Bad hair.
  3. This show may have contained the WORST song I’ve ever heard on stage. Really bad. But not so bad that I know it was supposed to be bad on purpose. It sounded like the 3 singers had read the lyrics off the back of an envelope 5 minutes before the curtain came up. I’d say they were off-key, but I’m not even sure there was a key to be off of. Just mouth-droppingly bad.
  4. When we picked up our tickets, the box office person had said that this wasn’t a sold-out show, so if we wanted to move closer, we could during the opening remarks. Thank all the gods we didn’t. There was a scene where the wily manservant disguises himself as a woman, with help getting dressed from audience members. You know the drill: flirt with the girls, tell the men to keep their pea-picken hands to themselves. Luckily, for us, we were safe in the top row. Don’t get me wrong, he was very funny and obviously had experience working an audience. But I don’t do audience participation. And those people can just smell the fear on me. Sadistic bastards love making me sweat. But I was far, far away and behind a railing, where he couldn’t get me this time. Ha-ha!

All in all, a good show, and a good time had by all. And I got to go home and enjoy a nice, hearty cough in private.

Nobu Boo-Boo

I just heard about this over the weekend. Assuming this isn't the Broadway version of having "exhaustion" and Piven isn't at this moment sipping a virgin Mai Tai on the lanai at Promises, and he really does have mercury toxicity, I have one piece of advice:

Eat a hamburger like normal people, Shamu.

Honestly. Who eats that much raw fish? I like sushi. There have been moments when I have loved sushi. But even if I could afford to live on the stuff (and, not being a fancy-schmancy TV star, I can't), I do read the newspapers every once in awhile, and know that most fish have high levels of mercury. I used to enjoy a tuna fish salad sandwhich once a week (I can't even afford to live on canned tuna), but cut back to a once a month thing because I was afraid that I'd start to look like one of the X-Men. You'd think one of his sushi chefs would have said, "Dude, you need to lay off the ahi."

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