the great escape

it’s on kids.  iscosceles is going, going, getting out of dodge. 

physically, i’ve just landed in nyc after many weeks on the road.  but mentally, i’ve flown the coop.  and i couldn’t be happier. 

i’m not dwelling on the fact that it’s a shame and a waste and petty and unfair and all that.  onwards, upwards, bigger and better, and all the rest.  well, after i say this:

suck it, you petty, pathetic, provincial, myopic souls.  you cut off your nose to spite your face.  i’d say karma’s a bitch and all that, but it seems to me that you’re already miserable, insecure and to be pitied.  you have no idea what it’s like to feel good about who you are and what you do.  it’s a wonderful way to feel.  and when you do, you want other people to succeed as much as you do.  when you’re searching myspace and digging around for little tidbits to use on other people, you have a serious amount of introspection and self improvement you’re neglecting. 

ok, all better.  it needed to be gotten out. 

four days off- my first period of rest longer than 12 hours in six weeks is going to do loads of good for my disposition. 

the future’s bright, my friends, and for all of us.  you’ll see.

a woman’s heart is a deep ocean

that’s what i learned tonight, kids.  

i finally sucked it up and watched titanic with sunny d, settling our bet from the march madness brackets at long last.  i have to say, while it’s not the worst movie i’ve ever seen (i fully expect battlefield earth to hold that honor forever), it pretty much lived up to my expectations of cheesy dialogue and extremely predictable scenes.  in fact, the only thing i didn’t entirely expect was learning that guggenheim died on the boat. 

now, you might be saying to yourself, “Self, of course isosceles knew what would happen.  the overall story is well known and the movie was a mega blockbuster that everyone was talking about.”  fair enough on the first point.  but on the second, i really didn’t hear it.  mostly because i would stick my fingers in my ears and go “la alalala alal ala la la a la la la” until people stopped. 

what?  i never claimed to be the model of maturity.

anyway, mostly i was bored and irked at the fact that nobody seemed all that bothered by the cripplingly cold waters, until jack freezes to death at the end.  oops.  did i give that away?  isn’t it unbelievable? 

ok.  i have to admit that i did come close to tears at the end, but mostly because after looking at bill paxton’s earring, the superbad acting of the “old lady,” and the moment she throws the diamond away, i was saddened that kate winslet was a part of such a piece of, uh, mediocrity.

and then it happened.  i truly emotionally connected with the film.  rose dies an old, old lady in her bed, like she promised jack.  and that emotion was outrage.  i was as irate at this moment as when all the professors put their pens on russel crowe’s table at the end of a beautiful mind.  i keep hearing brian cox’s speech in adaptation that charlie kaufman attends, which he ends with “And God help you if you use voice-over in your work, my friends. God help you. That’s flaccid, sloppy writing. Any idiot can write a voice-over narration to explain the thoughts of a character.”

my final review: even if this movie was really, truly good, it would not be worth the eternal hell it has unleashed on the world via celine dion and her heart going on.

and now for something completely different…

i am leaving tomorrow for a well earned and much needed ten day sojourn to the canary islands and the fine city of barcelona.  i’m so freaking out trying to get things done that i have yet to pack or even realize that i’m actually, really, truly going on vacation.  it’s been forever.

all that being said, i thought it might be an appropriate time to weigh in on the mid-season slum fest that is summer tv.  some highlights:

• age of love (mondays, 9 pm, nbc).  the premise of this show is that mark phillipoussis, bachelor aussie tennis pro, is looking for love.  the diminutive husband of everyone’s favorite perky skeletal morning show hostess, mark consuelos has cooked up an interesting “experiment” for our love-lorn man from oz.  a bunch of hotter than they have any right to be “40 somethings” vie for his attentions against a group of generically implanted brain dead “20 somethings.”  ok.  this show is awful.  horrible.  train-wreck appointment television.  and yes, it’s on my dvr.  because every week i say i’m not going to watch it and then joel mchale serves me an incredible montage of nonsense that forces me to tune in.  BEST PART: the fact that the premise is drilled into your head every five to thirty seconds with voice overs, visual cues, symbols and text.  also, there’s a digerydoo nailed to the wall of mark’s bachelor pad.

• rock of love with bret michaels (sunday, 9 pm, vh1).  don’t let the lack of flavor flav or new york get you down, kiddies!  vh1 goes back to the bottom of the cultural barrel to bring you a rock and roll version of flav’s quest for a “lady.”  tattoos, implants, drinking, cursing, cat fights and eyeliner abound.  despite my junior high love for ricky rockett and my new-found surreal life inspired love for cc deville, i have nothing for bret.  about all i can say for him is that he seems to make sense.  within his frame of logic of course.  HIGHLIGHT: the abuse of alcohol that precipitates subtitles, which are as filled with nonsense and ambiguity as the speech that inspires it.

• scott baio is 45.. and single!  (sunday, 10 pm, vh1).  no, it’s not chachi in a house full of sluts vying for his attention.  it’s the documentation of scott’s journey to explore his fear of commitment including his hiring of a life coach, cutting off his girlfriend, guy time with his trio of buddies in LA (think entourage fast-forwarded twenty years), including wayne, the older brother from “the wonder years.”  he’s charming, fucked up, and the premise is interesting.  his coach makes him visit all his exes to figure out what went wrong (including his first.  none other than…. joanie!!!).  BEST PART: previews of him having to cut off his ‘turtle,’ the guy that can’t get laid without him, so sabotages scott’s attempts to better himself.  OR when he “bumps into” cliff howard at his agent’s office.  OR when turtle II tries to get said agent to book him a job.  OR when he calls henry winkler who answers the phone “scott baio, as i live and breathe…”  and all this on the first episode.  i have high hopes for this one.

• World Series of Pop Culture (Tuesday, 9 pm, vh1).  simultaneously allows you the opportunity to frustrate yourself with how much you can’t remember and horrify yourself with how much you know about this shit.  i mourn that sunny d can’t participate because she works for viacom and that we were both turned down for who wants to be a millionaire pop culture edition, despite passing the written test (damn you, abc!).  BEST PART: an entire category dedicated to my boyfriend, alec baldwin.

• the spelling bee/ don’t forget the lyrics (i don’t know and i don’t care).  another one of those pop cultural two-fers.  i’m not sure which is the chicken or which is the egg, but i do know that it matters not a bit.  one has joey fatone from n’ sync and the other one has wayne brady.  no, i’m not kidding.  satan’s come a-collecting, i guess.  BEST PART: the “final countdown” sequence that the soup has used to wonderful effect.

• the closer (Monday, 9 pm, TNT).  the best show on summer tv, hands down.  for reals.  it’s interesting, well written, well acted and fun.  kyra sedgwick rocks wither her ridiculous outfits, clever ruses and pathological sweet tooth.  her character is probably the most fully realized female character ever to grace the small screen.  she’s not perfect and there are no apologies.  also, she has the HOTTEST boyfriend- an fbi agent named fritz (played by jon tenney).  he’s sexy, smart, and just puts up with her shit without being a lapdog.  also, it has j.jonah jameson (j.k. simmons) as her perturbed former lover/ boss, the security guard from mannequin and detective daniels- a black, not crazy version of angelina jolie.  BEST PART: did i mention fritz?

sidebar: for those of you who wonder what kind of tv floats bubba’s boat, it seems that the once and future president(s) tivo 24 and grey’s anatomy.  sunny d got to see the mrs. speak at viacom yesterday.  she said she was amazing.  and i said, finally, i’m investing in the right thing.  that’s right: hillary ’08.

the digital divide; fellas, listen up!

Boys, this one’s on the house. 

I’m going to give you a little insight into something that drives a majority of ladies, chicks, broads, skirts, girls, women, females crazy.  It actually makes the top of most deal-breaker lists.  A complete and total turn off.

wut is it? u ask. wut could b so bad as 2 make girlz want 2 puke on ur faces?

Text speak, aol-speak, whatever you want to call it.  It’s disgusting. 

Inane abbreviations and mispellings appropriate ONLY for twelve year old kids with ADD who never knew better.  You save a couple of key strokes on your computer or hits to the entry pad on your cell phone, but you’re losing an inestimable amount of stock points.  It’s the single most emasculating thing a man can do to himself.

I’m all for parsimony, and I know we’re all busy, but trust me, the extra second you’ve saved yourself is not worth the hits your manhood is taking.

No, I’m not exaggerating.  I know many girls that will immediately write off a guy who texts or IMs her in this manner, or WORSE, emails this way.  It may seem shallow, but consider it.  We’re looking for men.  MEN.  Not little boys.  And not idiots.  It makes you seem illiterate, unintelligent, ineloquent, delinquent, remedial, and to some, like you can’t take two seconds to try and impress a lady.

So, take the time to actually spell out words, as close to the actual spelling as you can manage.  The T9 or word setting on your phone is there to help you; it’s your friend.  It helps you speed up your typing AND is like a little spell-check angel.  It will also remember non-standard words that you use often (like the way Silvija’s name is spelled, or the name of a favorite bar, or even shit, tits, boobs, whatever you like to write).  Email has spell check.  With IM, you’re on your own, but most people are forgiving, as long as you make the effort.

I’ll break it down for you, to make it real easy like:

1.  Turn on the T9/ word function on your phone.  It’s there to help you.

2.  Do not write LOL, LMAO, TTYL or some such inanity under any circumstances.

3.  Do not write in ALL CAPS.  IT LOOKS LIKE YOU’RE YELLING AT US.

4.  Do not insert smiley faces to punctuate.  Indicate that you are kidding some other way. (ha ha, heh, etc. are acceptable).

5.  Do not insert numbers into words to spell them out (gr8, l8r, etc.  Who are you, Avril Lavigne?).

6.  Do use whole words.  It indicates you can think. 

7.  Do use punctuation.  It indicates that you care about what you’re saying.

Now, I will admit that there are some ladies who don’t actually mind the abbreviations of the modern texting age and use them themselves.  Of course, if you happen to be conversing with such a lady, it is totally appropriate to “speak” in kind.

8.  However, IT IS NEVER OK TO EMAIL this way. 

9.  Err on the side of caution.  Most ladies feel this way, so unless you’ve seen your potential girl* use such language, don’t do it.  Better safe than sorry.

I mean, hey, it’s not like we’re expecting you to learn the difference between their, they’re and there or it, it’s and its or to, too and two or even your and you’re.  Though, you can really impress a lady (and your parents and co-workers) by mastering these few tricks.

You always say you don’t know what women want.  Well, I’m here to tell you.  It may hurt your feelings, but nut up!  It’s for your own good. 

*of whatever variety- this can even kill a sex-only relationship as it can bare a direct relationship to the degree of attraction a lady has for her male companion.

ah, the power of cheese

i don’t mean the literal foodstuff, cheese, though that clearly has it’s wonders and its merits.  no, kids, i refer to the sociological type of cheese.  and the creme de la creme of this cultural curd is, of course, B horror movies.

i have been traveling to and from cleveland almost non stop for the past three weeks, following a two week sojourn abroad for successive, long trade shows.  i have had almost no time to eat well, exercise or even relax.  i have been working my tail off (lo, only figuratively.  the midwest spread is apparently contagious).  i have been in back to back meetings whether in new york or the cleve.  spend most of my meal times in meetings or airports.  putting out fires, struggling with the inconsistencies and holes in communication flow that a new company has in spades.

the upshot is:  i’m exhausted.  drained.  knackered.  fried.  broke down. jacked up. sleepy, add your synonym here.

quick examples:

last week i excused myself to go to the restroom at a local , well-patronized bar and opened the door to the bathroom.  for a good twenty seconds i stood staring at the urinal, knowing it signaled that something was off, but unable to process what, exactly, the issue was.  as i slowly backed up, i noticed the ubiquitous stick figure representing the male of the species next to (oddly enough) the word “Mens.”  this prompted an epiphany to which the only response was to sidle five feet to the left and enter the more accomodating “Ladies” room.

i wrote a poll on my fantasy baseball team website in which i spelled the word “threw” as “t-h-r-o-u-g-h.”  for those you who know my fastidiousness when it comes to spelling and proper usage of english (including being seriously uptight about their, there and they’re as well as to, too, and two, you’re and your. it’s and its), you know this is not a favorable indicator of my personal mental health.

finally, i was offered the opportunity to be part of two things that would normally bring me untold joy: a subway series baseball game with best friends and a ricky gervais show with other close and wonderful friends.  i have bailed on both to lay in my bed, exhausted, in physical pain strong enough to make me cry, feeling quite sorry for myself.

there is only one thing that can take my mind off this pathetic personal failing:  a well spent $3.95 for a grisly,sufficiently acted, clever death scenes B horror movie.  My nirvana, my escape, my personal Calgon.

to which, friends, i must return as the peace it gives me is quickly fading. 

so please, don’t mock, but embrace the so-bad-it’s-good gen x philosophy; it is a salve to soothe the shattered soul.**

ok, that’s somewhat melodramatic, but i was going for alliteration and my options were limited

jack! rose! jack! rose! doctor, insulin, stat!

In case you’re wondering, the subject line refers to the beating I took in the NCAA brackets. (Damn you Kansas!) My roommate has been dying to get me to watch Titanic for three years. Feeling cocky with my picks, I told her that if she beat me in the brackets, I’d watch it.

Now I find myself thanking God and sulfur for the special eggs I ate in Japan last week- each hard boiled egg is supposed to add seven years to your life. Because the way I figure it, the diabetes I will contract from watching three and one half hours of sickly sweet tripe may shave off a couple of years.

o canada, or for those who thought of leaving when bush was elected

Biker Romp ‘Wild Hogs’ Debuts at No. 1
Sunday March 4 2:54 PM ET

The biker buddy comedy “Wild Hogs” and its ensemble cast of John Travolta, Martin Lawrence, William H. Macy and Tim Allen was the weekend box office champ with a $38 million take, according to studio estimates Sunday.

It was Walt Disney Co.’s biggest March opening ever. It was also the largest-ever debut for the 53-year-old Travolta as well as the best non-animated movie debut for Allen, who is also 53. Macy turns 57 next week and Lawrence turns 42 next month.

“It’s so easy to see in the material how much fun they were having together. The audience was looking for that first great comedy of the year,” said Disney president of distribution Chuck Viane.Wild Hogs” performed well beyond expectations, said Paul Dergarabedian, president of box-office tracker Media By Numbers. It had been expected to be No. 1 with earnings in the $25 million range, he said.

“It’s just astonishing,”* Dergarabedian said. “It was the perfect vehicle for these four stars. A combination of star power, great concept and great marketing was responsible.
“This is not an Oscar contender, but it’s a fun time at the movies. You know, sometimes it’s just about escapism.”

No other films were even close.

The No. 2 movie was the thriller “Zodiac,” which debuted with $13.1 million. “Ghost Rider” fell to No. 3 in its third week of release with $11.5 million, “Bridge to Terabithia” was fourth with $8.6 million, and “The Number 23″ dropped to fifth with $7.1 million in its second week.

Eddie Murphy‘s “Norbit” continued to draw crowds, placing sixth in its fourth week of release with a $6.4 million take that boosted its cumulative tally to $83 million.

“Music & Lyrics” was No. 7 with $4.9 million and the new movie “Black Snake Moan,” about an aging black man who chains a young white woman to a radiator to cure her of her demons, only took in $4 million for eighth place.

Rounding out the Top 10 was ninth place “Reno 911!: Miami” with $3.8 million and “Breach” with $3.5 million.

Estimated ticket sales for Friday through Sunday at U.S. and Canadian theaters, according to Media By Numbers LLC. Final figures will be released Monday.

* Understatement of the century, fella.

I once read an article that stated that nine out of ten studio films never get completed. NINE. This gem is in the 10% that the studio execs felt worthy of finishing. Also in the top ten? Norbit. NORBIT.

I went and saw Zodiac. It’s smart. It’s interesting. It’s based on real history. It’s well-acted. It has Jake Gyllenhaal (so what if I tried to lick the screen). It has Mark Ruffalo. It’s directed by David Fincher. It’s tense. It’s gripping. It’s a good f&*^T^&ing film, America! What the F? Wild Hogs? Seriously? When I saw the ad for that film, I couldn’t believe I was living on Earth.

Everyone says Vancouver is a lovely place. I think it’s about time I found out.

ZZZZZuper sunday

YAWN.

Golden boy Peyton Manning has his ring. We can all breathe a sigh of relief.

After an exciting 92 yard kickoff return for a touchdown by the Bears Devin Hester, it was all downhill for Superbowl XLI. The rain can certainly be blamed for some of the sloppyness in the game- missed snaps, fgs and receptions. Or as Jim Nantz so eloquently put it “The rain is absoultely having a little effect on the game.” But the plays throughout the game, as well as the much-ado-about-nothing outcome, were as predictable as possible. Rex Grossman looked like a deer in headlights. Manning showed his talent, and his propensity to err when it’s clutch and Viniatieri continued his campaign to prove that kickers can be the key to get you to, and through, a Superbowl championship.

Even though Manning has been pretty abysmal in the post season, his stepping it up for these last two games will make him an even bigger name. He has to be the dullest shining star in recent QB history. No personality, haircut from 1967, part of a legacy family that really consists of two good/ great QBs and one starting QB. I didn’t think it’s possible, but the Manning era is making me miss John Elway’s fabled quest for a ring.

Maybe I’m being hard on him, but I think it’s a reflection of the lack of dynamic and fun players when a player that has only been on the professional stage for eight years… wait. It’s been EIGHT years? F. I’m sitting here thinking it’s been four, maybe five at the most. Forget everything I just said. Eight years is a long time to be doing anything in the NFL. Good for you, Peyton.

Having just admitted that, it’s kind of depressing to realize that thanks to this win and Tiki retiring, we can expect to see an even higher ratio of commercials starring Peyton Manning vs. the entire-roster-of-the-rest-of-the-NFL. If you weren’t sick of him before, kids, saddle up.

Truly, though, The Big Game shouldn’t really be about the commercials. It’s the biggest yearly sporting event (calm down soccer fans, I said yearly) that draws millions and millions of viewers worldwide. And they don’t see the commercials, just a lot of dead time during US broadcast-forced downtime (trust me, I once watched it in Spain. It made baseball look non-stop). This year proved to be the case in both actuality and theory. Nothing was happening during the breaks.

Two notable exceptions:

Kudos to Frito Lay for their subtle and quality commercial celebrating the fact that it’s the first time in history two black head coaches have met in the Superbowl. It was just really well done and nice that a corporation took the time to point that out in a non-preachy, non-condescending way, with pretty minimal product placement.

Boo! Hiss! to Snickers for their unfunny and homo-phobic mechanic “accidental kiss” spot. It was poorly executed and mean-spirited. Besides, since when does manscaping, or self-waxing, qualify as the most “manly” thing two mechanics can do in a garage? It’s just completely generic and lowest common denominator and I’m pretty happy to hear they won’t be showing it again.

OK, kids, I’m off. 9 days until pitchers and catchers report and I have some serious legwork to do before my Fantasy Baseball draft.

can prime time network tv save us from mediocrity

Despite the fact that it’s inherently lame and incredibly redundant, I need to take this moment to write about the awesomeness of Jack Bauer. We need to thank the fox network. that’s right folks, thank them. Because, despite all the evil they do and the lies they spread, they bestow upon us the beauty that is 24.

Every year I doubt it can be any good, that they can suspend my disbelief, that they can create a compelling and even remotely plausible reason for Jack returning to save LA and freedom itself. And then BaM! It happens.

It’s awesome, it’s smartly written, it’s ‘balanced’ without being preachy or condescending and I find myself biting my nails and enjoying the ride.

Now, of course it’s not perfect, but damn if it’s isn’t fun and some smart fun at that. And there is not nearly enough of that in this world. Finding it in the least likely of places- the bastion of mediocrity and banal entertainment and hostile right wing invective, makes it all the better.

Of course with Two and a Half Men, Yes Dear and whatever the hell else they actually buy, CBS is making a serious play for Fox’s title of the home of the insipid sitcom.

There I go being redundant again.