Well, dear readers, I have pulled something. Yes, you heard it here, dear readers, I, BK, have pulled something. I hate when that happens and there seems to be no rhyme or reason for the said pulling, although there may be a reason or rhyme, not necessarily in that order. I didn’t wake up having pulled something – it just came upon me suddenly, like a gazelle wearing a dickie. Pain just suddenly shot up in my lower right back (close to my hip). I wonder if pain will be arrested for shooting up – I don’t think it was a crime of passion or anything, it seemed quite premeditated to me. What the HELL am I talking about? Oh, yes, the pain in my lower right back (close to my hip). I can’t remember exactly when it happened, but it was before I had a sandwich and onion rings. I got up after a good night’s sleep and I had a brainstorm, helper-wise, and the brainstorm, I think, has done the trick. I don’t want to go into details, but I do think I’ll have the box of invoices, which are not lost, this evening by midnight. I would be very surprised if they weren’t here, because my brainstorm was quite a good brainstorm and it seems to have worked – we shall see. Let’s just say there was finally some communication last night via text. I printed out some more orders, and then Mr. Handy Man came by and fixed the little electrical problem, which I’d had one other time. I’d simply forgotten what he did last time, but this time I’ve written it down. It’s one plug in the living room that trips sometimes and you have to push the little red button on the plug and then everything’s fine. So, he was here for only ten minutes and only charged me twenty-five bucks, so that was good. Sometime close to his leaving, the pain in my lower right back started – and it was quite severe. I went to Jerry’s Deli and had a sandwich and onion rings, and then I picked up some mail and a package o’ CDs (lots of great stuff), after which I came home. I then had a telephonic conversation about various and sundried things, and for the third time this week someone mentioned that my phone was making it sound like I was underwater – so, I went over to Staples and bought a new phone, base station, and extra handset. It uses the latest frequency technology, so that’s good. It’s charging up right now, and then tomorrow I’ll begin programming in numbers and stuff. I did make a test call and the person I called said the quality sounded excellent. After all that, I finally sat on my couch like so much fish.
Last night, I finished watching a motion picture on Blu and Ray entitled Showgirls, a “film” “directed” by Paul Verhoeven, and “written” by Joe Eszterhas. Now, somehow this film, according to the pundits on imdb, has been misunderstood all these years. Apparently, unbeknownst to all of us who endured it when it came out, it was a satire and a brilliant one at that. A couple of “critics” have done whole treatises on the brilliance of Showgirls. Note to pundits and critics: Please remove your head from your rectal cavities. This film was not made as a satire – maybe the comedy team of Verhoeven and Eszterhas began that line after the critical and public lambasting the film took – but soon it became “camp” to love it. Well, it’s just bad. It’s as bad as it gets. Joe Eszterhas wouldn’t know satire if it bit him in the ASS. His screenplay for this film is hilarious and none of it is intentional. The playing of Elizabeth Berkley is so grotesque (Verhoeven did her no favors, either – his idea of what is a turn on is so convoluted and sick the poor dear never had a chance). Gina Gershon, well, this is a woman who, in the revival of Bye Bye Birdie said she wouldn’t do the Shriner’s Ballet because it was a “little date rape-y.” Apparently she had no compunction about appearing in this horrifying little film. And since this film features an appalling rape scene (is that part of the satire), well, everyone involved comes off really bad. Kyle MacLachlin’s hair looks like he’s trying to be Veronica Lake, and the lap dance scene is a laugh riot, but not because they intended it to be so. Mr. Verhoeven is such a pig and he revels in that sort of scene. Mr. Verhoeven shows his cards in the first five minutes, when he has Miss Berkley vomit on the ground in a wonderful close-up. The transfer, as befits a satirical masterpiece, is actually excellent.
I then watched another motion picture on Blu and Ray, entitled The Spy Next Door. The film starts off with some scenes that play over the first few credits, where Jackie Chan is shown doing spy stuff. Then we have the title The Spy Next Door. Then we meet mild, unassuming next door neighbor Jackie Chan, who, in a moment we will learn is – a spy. Only they kind of blew that joke and revelation, didn’t they? What follows is a paint by numbers kids movie – but I’m a sucker for Jackie Chan and kids and families, so even as trite and bad as most of it was, I still enjoyed it. It hits all the beats they teach you in Screenwriting 101, and therefore it squanders a good idea with bad writing and direction. Mr. Chan is, as always, charming, and the kids are precocious in the way that only movie kids are. The transfer is top-notch, as is the sound. After the movie, I sat in the Jacuzzi, which was helpful to Ye Olde Aching Backe.
Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below because I pulled something and I must go to the bedroom environment and get into the bed and get some sleep, so that I can hopefully awaken sans pain.
Today, I shall do a little writing, I shall do a little organizing, I shall do a little prepping of our next release, I shall do errands and whatnot, and then I’ll be supping, after which I hope to be getting some invoices returned.
Tomorrow I’m not at all certain what’s going on but I’ll try and figure it out. I’m hoping to find out which night will be the Kritzerland at the Gardenia night, and exactly which month (August of September) we’ll be starting (I’m thinking September will give us more time). The weekend is actually pretty full now.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, do a little writing, some organizing, some errands and whatnot, and then sup. Today’s topic of discussion: I was having a conversation via e-mail about actor Steve Ihnat, who I met a few times in the very early 1970s, and that got me thinking how many wonderful actors there were working regularly back then – you might not have known their names, but they were on just about every kind of show airing back then – and we just don’t have those kinds of actors anymore. I talk about this in my book, of course, but who were your favorite actors in the sixties and seventies – those stalwarts who never really achieved stardom, but were the backbone of the industry and who always turned in wonderful work – like Mr. Ihnat. Let’s have loads of lovely posting, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland and hope that whatever I pulled will stop hurting by morning.