A while ago, I got it into my head that I wanted to watch Hatching Pete, a recent Disney Channel original movie, namely because Tiffany Thornton is beautiful. A week or so ago, I acquired a copy of this movie and settled in to watch it, and when it was over, I came to a revolutionary conclusion: Hatching Pete is the best Disney Channel original movie ever. I know, I know, you're all scratching your collective head, saying "Huh? How can a movie about a boy in a chicken suit possibly be better than the masterpiece that is High School Musical?" Well you're in luck, because I'm about to tell you just how that's possible.
Just to clear this up, it's not because of Tiffany Thornton (she actually had a rather small part in it overall, and even then I wasn't a fan of her stuck-up cheer captain character, although I wasn't supposed to be, so she did her job adequately). It's actually because of the movie's two largely unknown stars, Jason Dolley and Josie Loren. It's a shame Hatching Pete didn't become the phenomenon that High School Musical did, because I'd love to see more of these two actors in the future. Jason Dolley is more charming as Pete Ivey than Zac Efron is as Troy Bolton (even if Pete Ivey doesn't grow up to become an awesome pastor in central Virginia), and Josie Loren is much more adorable as Pete's initially distant love interest, Angela Morrissey, than Vanessa Hudgens is as Gabriella Montez. There's a natural chemistry between Pete and the Angela, and the progression of their relationship seems a lot less forced than the "love-at-first-sight-that-encounters-a-brief-rocky-patch-three-movies-in-a-row" formula between Troy and Gabriella. Granted, High School Musical had better music (duh), but the character development in Hatching Pete was vastly superior, the story much more compelling, and, to say it again, Jason Dolley put out a great performance.
So what do Zac Efron and Josie Loren have in common, aside from starring in Disney Channel movies? 17 Again! This particular film was recommended to me by none other than our very own Danny Latin... it surprised me that he would actually even want to see it in the first place, since he's not a big Zac Efron fan, but he saw it and told me it was very good. It interested me since I first heard about it, because I do in fact like Zac Efron, but this unexpected endorsement made me want to see it even more. If you've never seen it, think of it as a sort of cross between Freaky Friday, It's A Wonderful Life, and Mrs. Doubtfire. On the surface it looks like your average, fun, body-switching high school flick, but it actually deals with themes deeper than "being yourself" and the other sorts of things that normally drive the plots of films centered around high school. After watching Hatching Pete and learning that Josie Loren plays a good female lead (and is also extraordinarily pretty), I found out that she was also in 17 Again, which bumped it to the top of my "movies to watch" list. Alas, she only had a very small part as the muse of Zac Efron's character's son (played by Sterling Knight), and it didn't do much to show off her acting abilities, but she is basically the epitome of what you'd call "my type," so every scene she was in was a good one anyway. The movie itself was indeed very good, even hilarious at times (the interactions between Zac Efron and Thomas Lennon are a riot, and the latter is just plain funny in his own right throughout the duration of the movie). I'd highly recommend it... and you know if a movie gets an endorsement from both myself AND Danny Latin, it must be pretty friggin good. Incidentally, 17 Again features, as I mentioned earlier, Sterling Knight, who stars on Sonny With A Chance with Tiffany Thornton, who was in Hatching Pete with Josie Loren, which completes the Disney circle by bringing us back to 17 Again (even though it's not a Disney movie). File that under "F" for "Fun Fact".
Last week whilst in the car on the first ever Fast Food World Tour, Chris and I were discussing the nonsensical song "Fireflies" (by Owl City) and its unwarranted popularity. Sure, it's reasonably catchy, but the lyrics may as well be gibberish, and in my opinion, that vastly diminishes a song's overall value. I wondered aloud just what he meant by "a thousand hugs from ten thousand lightning bugs." To me, that could mean one of three things: he's getting one hug apiece from one thousand individual lightning bugs out of a group of 10,000; he's getting a combination of any number of hugs adding up to one thousand from any number of lightning bugs, again out of a pool of 10,000 total bugs; or he's getting a thousand hugs apiece from 10,000 lightning bugs, resulting in a net total of ten million distinct insect hugs. I'm inclined to believe it's the second choice (which actually inherently allows for the first choice, making it the most versatile and efficient), because getting ten million hugs in the form of one thousand hugs being doled out one after another would just take too long, especially considering you couldn't fit all 10,000 bugs on your person at one time. At any rate people, please, PLEASE stop liking this song, the novelty of hearing about this guy's looney dreams has long since worn off.
And speaking of lyrics, I still don't know what Martin of Boys Like Girls says at the end of the second verse of "Love Drunk." As best I can tell, it sounds like "Oh girl, you make me such a larsh..." What the heck is a larsh, anyway? Sure, I could look up what the actual word is and find out for you, but for my part, I prefer speculation. Based on the context of the rest of the song, I'd have to extrapolate the meaning of the word "larsh" as one who is angry, disappointed, and confused, most likely because the girl he loves suddenly wants nothing to do with him and he can't figure out just exactly why, nor can he get her to even talk to him, despite his best and repeated efforts. I guess a "larsh" is a good term for a guy in the early stages of a broken heart, which is to say that his denial of that fact is exemplified by his rage at the situation, which really is only there to cover up the fact that he's hurt. I think, then, that this song is a great example of a male speaking from that point of view; boldly offering a big fat "eff you" to the girl in whom he invested so much time only to have her yank the rug right out from under his feet, because that's simply the best (or at least easiest) way to deal with it right after the fact. You can tell how much a guy really cared about a girl by how much he hates her after she breaks up with him, and I think this song expresses that perfectly.
In addition to being a great breakup song, "Love Drunk" was Boys Like Girls' opening number when I saw them play live at Northern Lights last night. My review of that show (which also featured Cobra Starship, Versa Emerge, A Rocket to the Moon, and The Maine) will be the first featured review on the blog Danny Latin and I have started, and will be posted next Thursday, so keep your eyes peeled. What's better than one genius level blog-weaver giving his take on pop culture? That's right, TWO brilliant minds combining their powers into one solidified effort to do a mighty service for all the media hungry folks in internet land. If you like movies, TV, music, sports, or any other facet of modern entertainment, or if you just can't get enough of either of our timely insights, then you'll probably want to check billyanddanny.blogspot.com daily, because starting Monday, November 23rd, that's how often new content will be published. You heard me kids, we will be posting new stuff every single buckin day, so for those of you dissatisfied with the wait time in between posts on this blog, your cries have been heard, and you shall want no more. And while you're at it, tell your friends too, you wouldn't want them to miss out on the experience.
Alright, that's all for now. I'll see all of you on Monday at billyanddanny.blogspot.com.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
This Post Dedicated To Matt Swain
Well fine citizens of the Interwebs, here I am, returned to the world of bloggery after a brief hiatus. My impromptu sabbatical was brought about not only by how busy I've been over the last two months or so, but also by the way all my thoughts have been jumbled up inside my head like a big freakin ball of Christmas lights that I, despite my best efforts, cannot seem to untangle. Many times I've come across ideas, shining brightly like the aforementioned lights, but I can't pick them out of the mess of cords and wires in order to make anything worthwhile out of them, so tonight I'm gonna try something different than usual. Instead of trying to showcase the individual bulbs on the string, I'm just gonna start at the beginning, follow the cord until I untangle a knot, and work my way down the rest of it until I get to the end. Hopefully by the time I plug it in, it'll look a lot better than it did before, and I think if I squeeze that metaphor any more, I'll be venturing into Coms 550 territory, and we all know that's where metaphors go if they haven't accepted Jesus.
I just turned 23, celebrating my first birthday at home since I turned 17, and I've realized something about birthdays: they're kind of frivolous, at least by this age. Sure, when you're younger, everyone gets excited about you turning another year older, and you feel "bigger," and every birthday leads up to another important milestone in your life. 21, however, is the last true milestone, and most people would consider it the biggest, as you're legal to drink alcohol at that age. The irony, though, is that all the people excited about being able to legally drink have no doubt already been drunk countless times, and the people who haven't don't really care about drinking anyway. But now, there's nothing super special about birthdays, I'm just getting older and older, and the numbers are steadily increasing, like an odometer ticking away as the miles roll on. And speaking of odometers, do you stop and give your car a gift every time it reaches another thousand miles? I think the concept of birthday presents is a little misguided. Don't get me wrong, I love getting gifts on my birthday (or any other time of year, for that matter), but let's bear in mind people, they are just that: gifts. It annoys me any time I hear somebody say "you deserve it" in regards to a birthday present or party or any other such trapping that goes along with the celebration of the event. Why, exactly, do you deserve that present? Because you lived to see the passing of another year? You don't deserve any presents, you get them from people that love you for precisely that reason, they love you and they're happy to see that you've stuck around for as long as you have. I suppose I've answered my own question (which I never formally stated, but it was "why do people get presents on their birthdays?"), so I guess this blog is a success already.
As I was saying though, I turned 23, and there wasn't anything terribly exciting about it. It was similar last year when I reached the nebulous age of 22... it's enough to make me question why we even bother celebrating it anymore. On the other hand, the age of 23 has the distinct honor of being mentioned in no less than three punk songs that I can think of right off the top of my head:
Nobody likes you when you're 23 (Blink 182 - What's My Age Again?)
We're almost 23 and you're still mad at me (Yellowcard - Twenty Three)
17, 18, 19 routine and here at 23 it's the same old me (Relient K - Maintain Consciousness)
Maybe there's something to being 23 that's gained it so much infamy in the punk music scene (don't even start with all the associations implied in that Jim Carrey movie, that's nothing but a novel bit of bollocks; furthermore, don't dissect my definition of "punk," just roll with it)... or maybe it's just the fact that it's the only age relevant to the genre that rhymes with "me." I guess I'll just have to wait and see what the next year offers up.
I mentioned drinking earlier, and incidentally, I got to experience interaction with a real live drunk person for the first time just recently. I had always heard that drunk people are funny, and to be honest, it's true, they are, but I also noticed something striking the other day. Once this particular fellow had had enough to drink to render him inebriated, everyone was constantly laughing at everything he did or said. While he is naturally a funny guy, I noted that his words and actions weren't really all that much funnier than normal. Everyone was treating him as though he had reached some transcendent state of humorous enlightenment, but it was pretty standard fare, so I didn't quite get what the big deal was. Like I said, the stuff he was doing was funny anyway, and would have gotten laughs if he had done it sober... and he would have done most of those same things sober, which is why the flag went up in my head. He was just being himself (albeit a slightly drunker version), only the laughs were heartier and more plentiful than usual. And then it hit me. The reason it was so funny wasn't because he was being funny, it was because his state of mind was altered by the alcohol, causing him to, in everyone else's view, do things that were funnier than usual. Apparently if you're not entirely in control of what you're doing, everything you do is that much more hilarious (whether you'd be doing it normally or not), and at that point, it stopped seeming funny and started seeming patronizing. Something to think about, folks: what are you laughing at, the person, or how the person is affected by a controlled substance?
To be honest, I really don't understand drinking as an activity. For one thing, it tastes disgusting, and for another thing, it inhibits your cognitive and physical processes. I suppose the latter would generally considered a benefit by the majority of Americans in my age group, but I don't need to get drunk to have a good time; I'm off-the-wall enough as it is, so why should I pump a bunch of potentially harmful chemicals into my body? On Saturday night, Chris and I went to a Halloween party the other night at a frat house on RPI's campus. I had a general inclination as to what it would be like (nothing to really do but drink, and I don't drink), but I figured, what the heck, I'd never experienced one before, so it might at least be interesting to see what goes on at one of those things. Plus, it was Halloween, and our plans for trick-or-treating had been dashed by the rain, so I wanted more people to see my costume and to see some other costumes as well, and a party seemed just as good a place as any for that. Well, I did see some costumes, including a sweet Rorschach costume, but otherwise it was a total waste of time (I doubt anyone even recognized who I was dressed as). It was dark and sweltering, with wall-to-wall bodies cramming the whole building, and music so loud I could barely hear myself think over the thumping bass beat. And, as I had predicted, the primary attraction was the alcohol, so basically my only option was to hang back around the wall and watch a bunch of sweaty drunk college students grind each other while other sweaty drunk college students pushed and shoved their way through the crowd. That got old real fast, and Chris and I left as soon as we had put in a requisite amount of time hanging around with a couple of his friends. The conclusion I drew from this experience was that secular campuses must be pretty boring, since it seems like the only thing there is to do is drink. Sure, there's not a whole lot to "do" at Liberty, but when everyone's just getting trashed, that's not "doing" anything either. It's not a social activity, because you're not interacting with people, you're interacting with intoxicated, alternate reality versions of those people, and there's a good chance they won't remember what happened anyway. I don't know how that passes for a good time.
Switching gears, earlier today I went to the mall by myself, and I was walking in the direction of Barnes & Noble. I was lost in thought, totally in the zone, when suddenly I heard "Young man, would you like to open an account?" I stopped, momentarily bewildered, and looked at the source of this intrusion to my thought processes. It was a middle aged lady standing outside a jewelry store with a clipboard. I didn't know what kind of account she was pestering me about, and I didn't care, so I just said "No thanks, I'm good," and kept right on walking. The occurrence was odd enough, since I wasn't even looking in her direction and she had called out to me for seemingly no reason other than that I was alone (and presumably vulnerable), but I shook it off and reached my destination without further incident. On my way back from Barnes & Noble, after looking at some sweet Green Lantern books (Rebirth and Sinestro Corps War, for anyone who's interested), I walked down the other side of the mall, and again I was completely zoned when, from out of nowhere, I'm blasted with "How are you doing?" Again, it's a chick out in front of a jewelry store, but this time it's a different jewelry store, and the girl is younger and actually fairly attractive. I was still annoyed at the interruption, but in the vein of politeness I said "Good, how are you?" to which she replied "Good, thanks," but by that time I was already several steps away, having escaped the pitch for the account she wanted me to open or whatever other kind of nonsense in which she was trying to get me to partake. Same as last time, I was walking at a steady pace, not looking at this girl in the slightest and certainly not making eye contact, yet she picked me off anyway. I wonder what it is about a twenty-something male alone in the mall that makes him a prime target for harassment of this kind outside a jewelry store; do I really fit their target demographic? If so, I can't imagine why.
If you've kept with me this long and you're wondering why this post was dedicated to Matt Swain, it's because he's been a faithful follower of my blog since its inception (as far as I can tell) and he recently admonished me to keep them coming. Not wanting to fail my public (especially my former prayer leader), I decided to sit down and plunk one out, regardless of how disjointed it may have been, and this post is the fruit of my labor. I'm glad I did, because I feel like I've worked out a few of my mental kinks, and from now on I'm gonna try to write these at more regular intervals. Matt, I hope you (and any other readers) found this enjoyable; it's no substitute for a small yellow placard, but this is the best offering of Joy I can give you right now. Hopefully it's adequate.
I just turned 23, celebrating my first birthday at home since I turned 17, and I've realized something about birthdays: they're kind of frivolous, at least by this age. Sure, when you're younger, everyone gets excited about you turning another year older, and you feel "bigger," and every birthday leads up to another important milestone in your life. 21, however, is the last true milestone, and most people would consider it the biggest, as you're legal to drink alcohol at that age. The irony, though, is that all the people excited about being able to legally drink have no doubt already been drunk countless times, and the people who haven't don't really care about drinking anyway. But now, there's nothing super special about birthdays, I'm just getting older and older, and the numbers are steadily increasing, like an odometer ticking away as the miles roll on. And speaking of odometers, do you stop and give your car a gift every time it reaches another thousand miles? I think the concept of birthday presents is a little misguided. Don't get me wrong, I love getting gifts on my birthday (or any other time of year, for that matter), but let's bear in mind people, they are just that: gifts. It annoys me any time I hear somebody say "you deserve it" in regards to a birthday present or party or any other such trapping that goes along with the celebration of the event. Why, exactly, do you deserve that present? Because you lived to see the passing of another year? You don't deserve any presents, you get them from people that love you for precisely that reason, they love you and they're happy to see that you've stuck around for as long as you have. I suppose I've answered my own question (which I never formally stated, but it was "why do people get presents on their birthdays?"), so I guess this blog is a success already.
As I was saying though, I turned 23, and there wasn't anything terribly exciting about it. It was similar last year when I reached the nebulous age of 22... it's enough to make me question why we even bother celebrating it anymore. On the other hand, the age of 23 has the distinct honor of being mentioned in no less than three punk songs that I can think of right off the top of my head:
Nobody likes you when you're 23 (Blink 182 - What's My Age Again?)
We're almost 23 and you're still mad at me (Yellowcard - Twenty Three)
17, 18, 19 routine and here at 23 it's the same old me (Relient K - Maintain Consciousness)
Maybe there's something to being 23 that's gained it so much infamy in the punk music scene (don't even start with all the associations implied in that Jim Carrey movie, that's nothing but a novel bit of bollocks; furthermore, don't dissect my definition of "punk," just roll with it)... or maybe it's just the fact that it's the only age relevant to the genre that rhymes with "me." I guess I'll just have to wait and see what the next year offers up.
I mentioned drinking earlier, and incidentally, I got to experience interaction with a real live drunk person for the first time just recently. I had always heard that drunk people are funny, and to be honest, it's true, they are, but I also noticed something striking the other day. Once this particular fellow had had enough to drink to render him inebriated, everyone was constantly laughing at everything he did or said. While he is naturally a funny guy, I noted that his words and actions weren't really all that much funnier than normal. Everyone was treating him as though he had reached some transcendent state of humorous enlightenment, but it was pretty standard fare, so I didn't quite get what the big deal was. Like I said, the stuff he was doing was funny anyway, and would have gotten laughs if he had done it sober... and he would have done most of those same things sober, which is why the flag went up in my head. He was just being himself (albeit a slightly drunker version), only the laughs were heartier and more plentiful than usual. And then it hit me. The reason it was so funny wasn't because he was being funny, it was because his state of mind was altered by the alcohol, causing him to, in everyone else's view, do things that were funnier than usual. Apparently if you're not entirely in control of what you're doing, everything you do is that much more hilarious (whether you'd be doing it normally or not), and at that point, it stopped seeming funny and started seeming patronizing. Something to think about, folks: what are you laughing at, the person, or how the person is affected by a controlled substance?
To be honest, I really don't understand drinking as an activity. For one thing, it tastes disgusting, and for another thing, it inhibits your cognitive and physical processes. I suppose the latter would generally considered a benefit by the majority of Americans in my age group, but I don't need to get drunk to have a good time; I'm off-the-wall enough as it is, so why should I pump a bunch of potentially harmful chemicals into my body? On Saturday night, Chris and I went to a Halloween party the other night at a frat house on RPI's campus. I had a general inclination as to what it would be like (nothing to really do but drink, and I don't drink), but I figured, what the heck, I'd never experienced one before, so it might at least be interesting to see what goes on at one of those things. Plus, it was Halloween, and our plans for trick-or-treating had been dashed by the rain, so I wanted more people to see my costume and to see some other costumes as well, and a party seemed just as good a place as any for that. Well, I did see some costumes, including a sweet Rorschach costume, but otherwise it was a total waste of time (I doubt anyone even recognized who I was dressed as). It was dark and sweltering, with wall-to-wall bodies cramming the whole building, and music so loud I could barely hear myself think over the thumping bass beat. And, as I had predicted, the primary attraction was the alcohol, so basically my only option was to hang back around the wall and watch a bunch of sweaty drunk college students grind each other while other sweaty drunk college students pushed and shoved their way through the crowd. That got old real fast, and Chris and I left as soon as we had put in a requisite amount of time hanging around with a couple of his friends. The conclusion I drew from this experience was that secular campuses must be pretty boring, since it seems like the only thing there is to do is drink. Sure, there's not a whole lot to "do" at Liberty, but when everyone's just getting trashed, that's not "doing" anything either. It's not a social activity, because you're not interacting with people, you're interacting with intoxicated, alternate reality versions of those people, and there's a good chance they won't remember what happened anyway. I don't know how that passes for a good time.
Switching gears, earlier today I went to the mall by myself, and I was walking in the direction of Barnes & Noble. I was lost in thought, totally in the zone, when suddenly I heard "Young man, would you like to open an account?" I stopped, momentarily bewildered, and looked at the source of this intrusion to my thought processes. It was a middle aged lady standing outside a jewelry store with a clipboard. I didn't know what kind of account she was pestering me about, and I didn't care, so I just said "No thanks, I'm good," and kept right on walking. The occurrence was odd enough, since I wasn't even looking in her direction and she had called out to me for seemingly no reason other than that I was alone (and presumably vulnerable), but I shook it off and reached my destination without further incident. On my way back from Barnes & Noble, after looking at some sweet Green Lantern books (Rebirth and Sinestro Corps War, for anyone who's interested), I walked down the other side of the mall, and again I was completely zoned when, from out of nowhere, I'm blasted with "How are you doing?" Again, it's a chick out in front of a jewelry store, but this time it's a different jewelry store, and the girl is younger and actually fairly attractive. I was still annoyed at the interruption, but in the vein of politeness I said "Good, how are you?" to which she replied "Good, thanks," but by that time I was already several steps away, having escaped the pitch for the account she wanted me to open or whatever other kind of nonsense in which she was trying to get me to partake. Same as last time, I was walking at a steady pace, not looking at this girl in the slightest and certainly not making eye contact, yet she picked me off anyway. I wonder what it is about a twenty-something male alone in the mall that makes him a prime target for harassment of this kind outside a jewelry store; do I really fit their target demographic? If so, I can't imagine why.
If you've kept with me this long and you're wondering why this post was dedicated to Matt Swain, it's because he's been a faithful follower of my blog since its inception (as far as I can tell) and he recently admonished me to keep them coming. Not wanting to fail my public (especially my former prayer leader), I decided to sit down and plunk one out, regardless of how disjointed it may have been, and this post is the fruit of my labor. I'm glad I did, because I feel like I've worked out a few of my mental kinks, and from now on I'm gonna try to write these at more regular intervals. Matt, I hope you (and any other readers) found this enjoyable; it's no substitute for a small yellow placard, but this is the best offering of Joy I can give you right now. Hopefully it's adequate.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
