Friday, August 18, 2006

Snakes on a Plane: The Review 

"There are few things better than watching a hot chick carry a bunch of dirty dishes"
"Unless she's carrying a mop too," was my reply. Just warming up for my trip to hell.

There we were sitting in the bar last night. BigMike had a pocket full of tickets to the year's most anticipated movie. I was actually taking it easy on the booze because I wanted to be able to absorb the entire movie with all it's plot twists and intricacies. We eventually made our way to the theater with nervous expectation. Would there be a huge line? Would the necessary crowd control be present? 2 hours later I walked out of the theater and there was a local reporter waiting for comments.

In a word, "it's motherfucking brilliant"

The American Film Institute needs to change it's top 100 list. The updated version...

1. Citizen Kane
2. Casablanca
3. The Godfather
4. Snakes on a Plane

There are very few requirements to see this film. It doesn't hurt to have half a load tied on. It's not exactly going to tax your mental capabilities. The more friends with you, the merrier. Shit, take the guy you barely like and watch him jump like a little girl when the snakes arrive. Most importantly you need to have the ability to suspend your disbelief. Suspension of disbelief is the key to this movie. You should have the following mantra going through your head at all times, "stop thinking stop thinking stop thinking".

"Wait, did that snake have a full set of teeth?" - stop thinking
"How the hell did that..." - stop thinking!
"Now wait a second, that's just stup..." - STOP THINKING GOD DAMN IT!

There were plot holes big enough to fly a 747 through, some of the most spectacularly bad acting ever seen, and I couldn't have loved it more. I think they tried to hit every demographic when casting the passengers. The grumpy rich guy, the Paris Hilton wannabe with the little dog (don't have to take the Thinking Train too far to know what happened with that lil guy), the germophobic rapper, the honeymooners, the mile high couple (gratuitous boob shot, thank you very much), the old bat, the foreign chick, the single mother, the slutty flight attendant, and the effeminate male flight attendant.

There was the chick who got bit on the breasticle while bumping uglies in the bathroom, a guy that got bit on the johnson while taking a whizz, and I'm pretty sure something was going on with the old bat called "Snakes in her Minge". One of the biggest surprise cheers from the crowd went up when comedic genius David Koechner showed up in the movie as the pilot. He had a great scene with Samuel L. late in the movie that basically ended with Koechner saying "...or this plane will go down quicker than a Thai hooker...".

They even managed to get a chuckle right off the bat when the title hit the screen at the beginning of the movie...

(they pause for dramatic effect)

It's a good thing they had thousands of snakes on that plane because they came up with some great ways to whack 'em all. Taser, hairspray torch, broken wine bottle on a stick, speargun, axe, and the good ol' fashion handgun. The snakes were rather creative themselves. They did a good job getting the movie up to an R rating.

So let me repeat, when WHEN you plan to see this movie, be prepared.

Suspend your belief systems, keep repeating to yourself "stop thinking", drink some booze, smoke some weed, drop a tab or two. Get yourself the biggest bucket of popcorn and a tub o' slushy coke. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the movie.

We certainly did.

Here's the Snakes on a Plane song. It's worth it for the first 15 seconds at least. If you don't feel like listening to the entire thing, here's the beginning.

Naturally the biggest round of applause came when the immortal, eternal, and forever quotable line hit the screen...

"I've had it with these mother fucking snakes on this mother fucking plane!"


Thursday, August 17, 2006

Bad Joke Wednesday 

"What's the opposite of Christopher Reeves?"
Friend Ali
It was bad joke Wednesday at the bar last night. As opposed to my life, these bad jokes were of the verbal variety and they were bad. Really bad. The yuppy riot happened again. There's been this roving bad of barely 21 year old, laugh too loud, scream outrageously, omigod becky, obnoxious group that has been showing up on occasion and really putting a cramp in my drinking pleasure. Except for the chippy that looks like Jennifer Aniston without the annoying voice and with boobs much bigger. She can stay.

There was a yeti siting and a dial-a-shot from a girl who claims to be able to out drink me in Southern Comfort. A friend of Budohorseman who also left me a hilarious voicemail on Monday. My offer to take up the challenge at the bash was politely refused which I take as extreme cowardess. Yes, that is misspelled on purpose.

I was able to hang with some friends I hadn't seen in a long while and at one point was the meat in a two-ply Al sandwich. Two hotties on either side. I was notified of this amazing fact when I inexplicably decided to move elsewhere. What kind of chucklehead am I? Don't answer that.

More Bash plans were hammered out as we actually tried to avoid getting hammered ourselves. This party becomes more work as the years go by and we find ourselves questioning whether it's ever worth it. This party is the one time of the year where we will be in a bar and can guarantee we won't have that much fun. By the time 4am rolls around and we think about leaving, we always say, "Never again!". That is until a month later when I start making plans for the next one.

I'm an idiot.

Show up this year because there might not be a number 8. Did I mention there will be Mardi Gras beads and girls willing to trade in the manner which they are meant to be obtained? And did I show you the picture of my friend Caucci's new girl?

Get there early, leave there late, try to recall the details the next day. It ain't all that easy. Braincells are a terrible thing to waste.

I've really got to start eating more than one meal a day if I want to survive this binge to get to the bender. Even if that one meal happens to contain a half pound of bacon. I can't tell if I have the booze sweats or meat sweats this morning. Hopefully it's not both. That could be foul.

Until later my friends, cheers! Oh, and the answer to the question at the top, Christopher Walken. Told you it was bad joke Wednesday.


Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Don't ask me, I'm drunk hungover 

What do both a fat drunken chucklehead and a tyrannical despot have in common? Besides our charming way with women and a remarkable amount of back hair?

We both have blogs. And as Scott said in his email, "Shark jumped...". Of all things unholy. Is he going to start posting like Pauly? The last 5 people I pissed next to and had shot because they made a comment about the size of my small "oil drill"?. Start posting Iranian "not safe for work" pics?

I give up. They'll give anyone a slot in the intertubes.


Last night was drinking and pokering with the Donkey Puncher. He was in town for his one night stop over and poker just happened to be occurring. But not before he threw down some micro-brew, his one and only Soco, and a half rack of seemingly decent ribs. We chatted up the bartender and locals before settling on a last longer bet (which I believe I never paid. Damned booze.) and a bounty on some unsuspecting stranger. Go read his post about last night. I'll wait...



Done? That skinny little fugger Mario was rip roaring pissed at me when the night was over and I have no idea why. Should I be worried that an old Italian guy who keeps saying fuggitaboutit is cheesed off at me?


5 Things I like:

1. Poker with lemurs
2. 4am breakfast at the diner (shortstack, two eggs over easy, "shit on a shingle")
3. Viewing completely inappropriate pictures at work
4. Philadelphia sports (what can I say, I must be a masochist)
5. Hanging with my friends at every opportunity

5 Things I hate:

1. Dan Shanoff is a douchebag
2. Joe Buck is the KING of douchebags
3. Closing time at the bar
4. Blogger spending more time down then up
5. Bash at the Boathouse planning

5 Things I just don't really understand:

1. Small, close minded people
2. "Fast" food employees
3. Daytime TV programming
4. Mandatory dress code at work. Why do I have to wear pants. Oh yeah, 'cause I'm fat.
5. Our new WSoP Main Event Champ


This post was delayed while I enjoyed the pure internet joy that is SirWhipple.


Steve left a comment the other day regarding the 1st Annual Brandon Schaefer Beer Pong Championship!

"Beer pong? To parphrase Burt Reynolds and Man Law, "I don't want your stinky balls in my beer". - StB

Don't worry Steve, we won't be ruining the good stuff. We will be filling the cups with the cheap assed crappy beer. I think we're going with Miller Lite.


No, I'm not feeling fine. Thanks for asking. Some random shit I just happen to stumble across.



Monday, August 14, 2006

Lost weekend, but not the good kind 

"Of all the things I've lost, I miss my mind the most."
Mark Twain
I really hate being sick. At least with the hangovers I have someone to blame. Me, of course but at least I can do a little finger pointing. This friggin' flu kicked my ass all weekend. I was in a half assed semi-coma throughout Saturday and I was miserable. The fever also made for some interesting nightmares. Nightmares when falling asleep while watching Discovery channel. That's some fucked up shit right there. When I finally came out of it, I wondered if that's what it feels like to be Dr. Pauly after a huge 'trip'.

I found myself sky diving into a hurricane. Two things. A HURRICANE! and there is no way in hell I would sky dive. This fat ass hippy ain't jumping out of airplane unless there's a 95% the bitch is going to make a deep crater into Mother Earth. But I knew this in my dream. Pretty screwed up shit when you're dreaming and know that you're dreaming. I'm not sure when it stopped being a nightmare and turned into just your typical fucked up dream, but it was some crazy stuff. If there was a way to package that stuff....


I still feel like shit. But I'd rather feel like shit than be full of shit (throw out line to whomever gets it). You wouldn't know crazy if Charles Manson was eating fruit loops on your front porch. (got it yet?)

I found the best ab workout in the world. 48 straight hours of hacking and coughing non stop. Even the cat wouldn't come around me because he was scared. I think I only ate twice during the weekend.

I did get a little taste of afterhours programming. Wonderful stuff. 900 lines, Girls Gone Wild, the doctor computer whiz dude, grade D soft core HBO-watered down Skinemax crap. Endless packs of sudafed wondering if these were going to be the pills that would make my liver go apeshit. The neighbors across the street having a fine blowout at 5 in the AM for all the world to hear. And not a single cigarette. Until this morning. Not bad. 3 full days without a smoke or a craving.

Now for that booze craving.... that will be taken care of tonight at the bar.

Standby for another Bash announcement coming up. Looks like another big name pro will be attending. Until then, thanks to nut-flush who posted this link in comments. Not safe for work as usual.