Thoughts on "Eastern Promises" . . .

Worth A Matinee or Full-Price Ticket: Matinee. You won't be disappointed with a matinee ticket price, but the nighttime might tax this film a bit too strongly.

Will I Own It On DVD: Uncertain. I definitely won't buy this when it first arrives on DVD, however, I might pick it up if it goes on sale for $7.99 at Best Buy like some movies tend to do after awhile.


1) I consider this a solid companion piece to Cronenberg's recent "A History of Violence," and while I consider 'Violence' to be a superior film, "Eastern Promises" is still a worthwhile exploration into the Russian mob.

2) Viggo Mortensen gives an excellent performance as a driver for the Russians. His accent is spot-on as splits his speaking time between English and Russian, and he consistently projects a quiet authority throughout the film. Naomi Watts, who is a very good actress, is solid as always, although her character was a bit underdeveloped.


3) There is a brutal steam room fight scene with Mortensen that took balls - both literally and figuratively - to film as Viggo flops around while savagely battling rival mob enforcers. It's simply one of the best fight scenes outside of the Bourne movies that I've seen in years.


4) Like nearly all of Cronenberg's work, there is some fairly gruesome violence which can be off-putting for some people. I don't personally find it as disturbing as torture porn cinema (see "Saw" or "Hostel" for example), and the gory slashings fit well into the context of 'Promises.'

5) The main problem I had with 'Promises' was the ending was a bit flat as the tension builds nicely for a majority of the movie, but then it dissipates at the conclusion. This is always frustrating for me, and just proves once again how difficult endings are to get right and satisfy an audience.

Overall, "Eastern Promises" was a good movie to usher in the fall season, a time when the films generally get bloodier, more dramatic and better than anything near the empty vacuum which develops at the end of every summer.

-BDS

$2 Dollar Productions Celebrates 500 Posts . . .

It's hard to believe this site began nearly three years ago when I had only a vague understanding about blogs. My brother suggested that we start one to promote our screenwriting, and after returning from a European vacation, I began $2 Dollar Productions with this tiny post in October 2004:

"I just arrived back to the U.S. after a tour through Italy and Ireland , red wine and Guinness and too many public bathrooms where you had to pay to enter. But it's nice to come back and find this thing off and running and chronicling our attempt to write and sell a comedy script from the ground up. We'll see. In the meantime, a brutal and savage re-write is needed before anyone should be subjected to actually reading this thing."


That was like dipping your toe in the deep end of the pool, and I quickly realized that I could not fathom a blog which focused solely on my writing experiences because there are only so many posts detailing how I:

A) Sat alone listening to music and writing
B) Drank beers with my brother and discussed plot points for the scripts
C) Sat naked, drinking coffee and cursing myself for being unable to write a decent scene

The act of writing itself is highly individualistic, and about as entertaining to the outside world as Kevin Federline trying to perform Hamlet on Broadway (which might actually be very entertaining now that I think about it).


Besides, I had scripts to write and a life in transition as I was moving from Plano to Austin, shifting careers from personal training to technology, and still figuring out the blog universe.

And so $2 Dollar Productions languished, malnurtured and neglected, while waiting to ultimately provide an island of reality in a sea of diarrhea. It wasn't until May 2006 that I began producing more than 2 - 5 posts per month.


At that time, I decided to simply write about whatever was on my mind with the exception of politics or religion, topics which I find personally interesting (and enjoy reading about from others), but don’t care to blog about because they typically lead to like-minded people affirming your beliefs or opposing forces who tend to check reason at the door.

Life is too short, and it is also too frequently irritating to dwell on depressing topics in this space. I prefer to throw humor at things, policies and people and attempt to laugh because I've always found that to be a fine way to cope. So, $2 Dollar Productions has focused on movies and music, breasts and buffoons, failed endeavors, vacations, Hollywood, pornography, and an extended fitness modeling odyssey that took me from Austin to New York City.









I also tried to come up with original series ideas, which I tend to like, and by the numbers they are:

The Greatest Sex Around - 9 entries
Bathing With The Drunken Viking - 13 entries


Lesser of Two Evils - 8 entries
Explain Yourself & Your Music - 3 entries
Up On The Mountain - 13 entries
Is It Really Cheating If - 11 entries
Quick Hit Friday - 50 entries

Since life tends to be circular, there will be much more forthcoming about the actual screenplays, and what might happen to them. Both comedy scripts are now wrapped and ready, and my brother and I are currently putting together marketing material and tapping anyone we know whose second cousin's, half-brother's ex-plumber's kid might know somebody who can read and/or help get a movie made from outside of Hollywood.

Hell, comedies are cheap, and if they're funny, they make a profit. We'll see.

But regardless of my initial reason for this blog, it's been a highly enjoyable ride, a journey that has given me a unique chance to interact with people from around the world. One of the best things about this medium is the opportunity to discover others that you would likely never come into contact with, yet the Internet makes it possible to be suddenly thrust into their minds - for good or ill.

It's been more than fine from my perspective, and just like people you see in everyday life, bloggers drop in and out at random. Others are dependable for the long haul, and it's the general diversity of ideas across the spectrum and the people that express them which keeps things interesting for me.

I feel very lucky to have made it this far, to have come into contact with interesting people and survived these past three years relatively unscathed. "Buy the ticket, take the ride" as Dr. Hunter S. Thompson used to say, and I believe that to be true just as strongly as my own opinion that the best is still to come.

{Editor's Note: $2 Dollar Productions will be taking the week off to re-charge some creative juices, and recover from the 500 post celebration}

-BDS

Quick Hit Friday . . .

"Now I know I'm pretty, but I ain't as pretty as a couple of titties," - Gary Oldman, "True Romance"


I spent my week trying to recover from this past weekend and avoiding O.J. Simpson coverage, and although I was only somewhat successful on both fronts, I am looking forward to a relaxing few days that can start as soon as I wade through the tough stories like:

Britney Spears has been ordered to undergo random drug and alcohol testing twice a week, according to court documents in her custody dispute with ex-husband Kevin Federline.

The order was issued Monday by a judge who required both parents to refrain from drinking and using drugs around their two young children and 12 hours before either cares for them. Only Spears was ordered to submit to testing.


Spears responded with "then I just won't care for them at all" and left to go club-hopping.

Madonna toasted the Jewish new year with Israeli President Shimon Peres and declared herself an "ambassador for Judaism," local newspapers reported Sunday. The singer, who is not Jewish, arrived in Israel Wednesday on the eve of Jewish new year to attend a conference on Kabbalah.


Peres later clarified that Madonna is only the ambassador inside of her own head.

An animal rights group says Alicia Silverstone appears naked in a television ad promoting vegetarianism that was to debut Wednesday in Houston. The 30-second ad was to air about two dozen times in Houston on Wednesday, the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals said.


Most people attempt a comeback by posing naked for "Playboy," but then again, Silverstone shot to fame by being "Clueless."

In Touch Weekly claims that Jennifer Lopez is pregnant with her first child, and due to give birth in the spring, according to an insider.


If this is true, I really hope the child looks like the mother.

Barry Manilow, a long-time friend of Rosie O'Donnell, backed out of his scheduled appearance on "The View" after the show refused to pull Elisabeth Hasselbeck from the interview.


Producers were very angry as they were hoping that Manilow's extreme masculinity and machismo would add some testosterone to the show.

Kanye West won in a landslide in his face-off with fellow rapper 50 Cent as West's Graduation outsold his rival's Curtis, 957,000 to 691,000 in the first week of release, according to Nielsen SoundScan figures.


Meanwhile, I continue not to care about this contrived event with absolutely no legitimate stakes or resolution.

Chris Crocker, who posted on MySpace.com a passionate defense of the pop singer after her performance on MTV's Video Music Awards, has been signed to a development deal with 44 Blue Productions, Variety reports.


I saw this clip, and although it was unintentionally funny, I find his continued public presence moving forward to be a total 'Crock' of shit.

But let's end with our usual gold image:


I'm a fiend for competition, however, I will admit that I do play dirty, so keep a rule book handy, watch your back and . . . Happy Friday!

-BDS

Come Early Morning . . .

Nobody looks their best the first thing in the morning.

Your hair is mussed, the eyes are puffy and let's not even discuss your breath which is only slightly better than the average yard hog after feeding time (though not by much). It's not a pretty picture despite how good you might have looked the night before your head hit the pillow.


I'm not a huge proponent of early morning sex for these reasons as well as the fact that the whole experience is usually lethargic and clumsy because you're still half-asleep.

But even my passing interest in early morning sex was forever altered for me and Stanley after I stumbled across this recent picture of Amy Winehouse after she just woke up:


I guess there's rough and then there's Winehouse rough, which takes things to an entirely different level and gives me the Fear.

-BDS

No Juice Ever Again . . .

I don't recall where I was for many newsworthy events, but I do remember my circumstances vividly when O.J. Simpson was flying down the freeway in his white Bronco more than a decade ago.


During the chase, I was in high school and watching NBA basketball with a group of people at friend's house. We were drinking illegally and quickly because his parents were gone, and I remember the surreal feeling we all had while shot-gunning Keystone Light tall-boys as Simpson's Bronco sped across the asphalt.

But that was a long time ago. Now, I wish O.J. Simpson would disappear forever into a black hole as he is back in the news due to a robbery in Las Vegas hotel last week.

The Las Vegas Police Department's Captain James Dillon said Simpson had been charged with two counts of robbery with a deadly weapon, two counts of assault with a deadly weapon, conspiracy to commit burglary and burglary with a firearm while trying to reclaim memorabilia that the Juice maintains belongs to him.


The circus has started once again, although this time it is certainly duller, lamer and holds absolutely no interest for me.

Screw O.J. Simpson and everything having to do with that guy. He's not even an entertaining punch line anymore, and I wish he would be placed on an island somewhere far away from the media or anyone else who might talk about him.

I don't want to hear about his books concerning how he might have committed a double murder back in 1994. I don't want to see pictures of him playing golf or signing jerseys at some card show in Des Moines. Life is too short to dedicate any amount of brain space on Simpson these days and forever in the future.


I consider him to be a complete waste of space, which is unfortunate because he was excellent as 'Nordberg' in "The Naked Gun" series - but watching Simpson on DVD is the only place I ever want to see him again.

-BDS

Sun, Sounds, Sweat & Sex Appeal . . .

The litmus test for sex appeal at the Austin City Limits music festival tolled every day at approximately 6 p.m.


By this time, most people had already sweated through their clothes five times, consumed six beers and listened to seven different bands. And despite the presence of many hard bodies wearing little clothing, the brutal combination of an unrelenting sun and next to no air moving left you sweaty and splotched, stinking and swaying, yet forging a rally to continue walking to the next stage.

If a person could look past these unsavory conditions and still want to fall to the ground with someone and screw in the grass like animals, then that's love. Love.

But I digress. The Austin City Limits musical festival is an endurance test, an event that at the end of the day, is definitely about the music and not about fornicating among the limited shrubbery.

The music was excellent as I managed to catch various acts including Bob Dylan, Steve Earle, The Decemberists, Lucinda Williams, Robert Earl Keen, Billy Joe Shaver, Artic Monkeys, and others whose names escape me.




Saturday was easily the toughest day as I started at the festival around 2:30 p.m. and sweated like a whore in church until early evening when my Dad, my brother and I ran back to the car to drive home, shower and then leave to Stubb's to catch Bob Dylan at 9 p.m.

The venue only holds around 2,500 people, and it was packed tight. Dylan played for 2 good hours while I stood under a tree and drank Shiner Bock while listening to "Thunder on the Mountain" and "All Along The Watchtower." It wasn't quite as exciting as the following night when Dylan cut through "Like A Rolling Stone" as I stood among 60,000 people in Zilker Park, but I was glad I got both ends of that spectrum.

By this point, the day had already been rough, but pushing things further, we decided to drive across town to catch James McMurtry as the Continental Club at midnight. The place is tiny and was sold out when we got there as they were letting people inside only when others left.

At 11:55 pm, I thought we were screwed, but then, a small crowd came out the front door and we strolled in the doors just as McMurtry cut into his first song. Perfect.


By the time the concert let out and we found a cab (driven by a strange Nigerian man who accelerated/decelerated at consistently random times while singing along to a really bad country song), it was nearly 3 am and we staggered back to my loft and collapsed.

And then Sunday came when it was time to brave the heat and return to the festival.

It was another full day that only ended when Dylan closed the festivities around 10:15 pm and the crowd dispersed and flooded through Barton Springs and Lamar trying to find their way home. I eventually made it to the loft, and took a long shower to wash the grime off from a weekend that was great and terrible at the same time.

I need a weekend to recover from my weekend, I thought, but it was also semi-amazing that during one 24 hour period, I was able to hear Earle, Dylan and McMurtry who are three of the best songwriters alive today and that was only on Saturday. When you're able to do something like that, it's a special thing and the other discomforts and hassles melt away like a Dove bar during a 3 p.m. music set.


Regardless, this knowledge doesn't help me as I sit at my desk this morning, trying vainly to get work done when my brain feels like pudding and my body needs about 12 straight hours of RIM sleep and a transfusion to rid itself of the Heineken and Shiner still coursing through my veins.

None of that will happen, however, so it's a damn good thing that I wouldn't trade feeling like shit for missing ACL, and I'd do it again tomorrow if the opportunity presented itself.

-BDS

Quick Hit Friday . . .

"Fuck you, that's my name. You know why mister? Cause you drove a Hyundai to get here tonight, I drove an $80,000 dollar BMW. That's my name." - Alec Baldwin, "Glengarry Glen Ross"


It seems like a slow week in Hollywood since the Britney Spears train wreck at the MTV Video Music Awards on Sunday, but before I start my weekend of music at ACL and other concert venues, let's cover other noteworthy stories like:

Kid Rock and Tommy Lee got in a mini-scuffle at the MTV awards show as Rock allegedly slapped/punched Lee, who was eventually escorted out by security.



I don't know the cause of the fight, however, if it was over who would be going home with Pamela Anderson that night, then I'm sure they both could have if they ever learned to share as children.

Actor Shia LaBeouf, who stars opposite Harrison Ford in the final Indiana Jones adventure, revealed that the film is called "Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull" this week.


I sincerely hope the actual movie is better than the title as this has been an excellent series.

Teen star Vanessa Hudgens has again sparked a whirlwind of publicity amid new allegations she sent naked pictures of herself to a Nickelodeon actor two years ago when she was 16. Hudgens recently confirmed that a nude picture that appeared on the Internet was her, and was intended to be kept private.


For Hollywood stars both young and old, the only thing you can guarantee is that if you ever take nude pictures or make a sex tape that it will eventually be leaked to the public. Think about it.

"The Daily Show" host Jon Stewart is set to host the next year’s annual Oscar ceremony for the second time after comedienne Ellen DeGeneres took her turn last year.


Stewart is an excellent choice, but I only hope that he can shorten the Oscars by at least 30 - 45 minutes as they are always as bloated as Rosie O'Donnell after an extra helping of Au Gratin Potatoes.

50 Cent announced a few weeks ago that if his new album, "Curtis," did not outsell Kanye West's new collection, "Graduation," during their first week in stores that he would call it quits. So far, West is outselling 50 Cent's CD by a wide margin.



Since I just can't seem to pick sides or care very much at all, I've decided to be like Switzerland and not buy either disc.

The White Stripes have called off their UK tour, just days after they shelved a string of US dates. The band announced on Tuesday that drummer Meg White was suffering from acute anxiety, leaving her unable to travel between concert venues.


I was going to see the White Stripes at Austin City Limits this weekend, and I don't find anything (a)cute about Meg's anxiety as I wanted to hear them for the first time.

But let's stay positive, and end with this:


Sometimes you feel the need to rebel, and other times . . . well, let's say I might conform to whatever she had to say. But in general, it's good to find your own path, so with that in mind, showcase your individuality or fight against something good and . . . Happy Friday!

-BDS

Preparing For The Onslaught . . .

"Three days straight I've been sinking
I ain't been doing what I should," - Ray Wylie Hubbard

What I should do is stop going to the Austin City Limits music festival one of these years as I generally loathe these mass events, however, this coming weekend will be the fourth one I've attended as the chance to see a consistently diverse group of bands has proven too hard to resist.

My tentative schedule for the band list includes Queens of the Stone Age, Steve Earle, Lucinda Williams, The White Stripes, Artic Monkeys, Kelly Willis, The Killers, Wilco, Billy Joe Shaver and Bjork (to see if she'll wear/do anything bizarre). Of course, I'll also catch Bob Dylan, who closes the festivities on Sunday night.






But this year will be even more brutal than the past ones as I also have two post-festival concerts to attend on Friday and Saturday night.

On Friday, I get to hear Robert Earl Keen, a phenomenal Texas singer-songwriter, at an intimate downtown Austin club where the acoustics are supposed to be the best in town. The following night, I just purchased tickets to see Bob Dylan at Stubb's open-air venue, another small-ish concert house and easily one of the tiniest places that Dylan is ever likely to play.



I cannot wait to go to both of these concerts, yet the unrelenting days in the sun at ACL will drain the body and then the nights of drinking until the next early morning already has my body warning me that 3 days straight of punishment will cause a rebellion and potential shut-down of vital organs which simply wasn't there during college.

It's a sad state of affairs when you cannot consistently abuse your body, and expect it to rebound. Even if you can stagger onwards, you feel like a truck ran you over and then parked itself on your head which might split wide open if moved too quickly.


Sheer ugliness.

Sometimes there is a price to pay for late nights and debauchery. Hell, there is always some kind of reckoning, and I only hope that mine is not vengeful and shows a shred of kindness and human decency.

In the interim, I'll be taking a nap under my desk (like George on "Seinfeld") because I must prepare for the onslaught.

-BDS

Comeback Derailed . . .

By now, much has been written about Britney Spears and her maligned performance at the MTV Video Music Awards, where Spears seemed to forget how to lip-sync, dance and tone her body for 4 minutes of cavorting around like a sedated, slowly-writhing zombie.



Spears looked lost and unsure at the VMAs, and that is too bad because the venue has been home to some of the highest points of her career. My personal favorite was her breathy version of the Rolling Stone's "Satisfaction" before she changed tunes and ripped off her business suit to reveal a flesh-colored pantsuit underneath.


She oozed enough sex that I felt dirty watching as I distractedly shot a horrendous game of pool. I might have lost at 9-ball (couldn't sink the blue one), but it was worth it.

In later years, Spears turned in solid flesh-peddling moments while wearing green hot pants and using a large snake to her advantage. The kiss with Madonna and Christina Aguilera was a bit too showy for my tastes, but that staged lip-lock still found the pop star so much higher than she has fallen these days.



Sunday's VMA performance was supposed to signal that Spears could shake off her late nights, questionable parenting skills and alcohol-bloated body to announce to the world that she was still relevant.

Instead, it was another testament to her career grinding to a halt, and about as sexy as a BYOB strip club in Elko, Nevada (and for those who haven't witnessed that scene - Don't.) I take no pleasure in this because a train wreck is interesting on occasion, however, nobody except for moral deviants like to watch them all the time.

For Spears, it must be depressing to realize your career peaked by your mid-20s, a hard fact that might resonate if she had even a vague grasp on reality. Sad.

-BDS

Thoughts on "3:10 To Yuma" . . .

Worth A Matinee or Full-Price Ticket: Matinee. Unless you absolutely love Westerns, then "3:10 to Yuma" should be seen before night falls.

Will I Own It On DVD: Uncertain. I definitely won't buy this when it first arrives on DVD, however, I might pick it up if it goes on sale for $7.99 at Best Buy like some movies tend to do after awhile.


1) Most moviegoers either like Westerns or can't stand them. I understand both types of people, but I fall in the former category - at least for Westerns that rise above the basic genre to display excellent credentials like "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly," "Tombstone," and "Unforgiven." I wouldn't place "3:10 to Yuma" in the same category as those films.


2) Overrall, this was a solid piece of filmmaking, acting and action in every way, but I was still disappointed due to the amount of talent involved in the process. I just expect more from a movie that boasts the talents of Russell Crowe and Christian Bale.

3) In the acting match-up, I would have to give the nod to Crowe over Bale, but just by a few inches. Bale spends a majority of the movie looking pained (or vaguely constipated), while Crowe plays the outlaw with hidden depths (is there ever any other kind)with good humor. Both actors have fine moments, however, I favor Crowe because he just has more weight in every scene versus Bale, who sometimes appears flat or a bit too reserved.


4) In a supporting role, Peter Fonda does a surprisingly good job as a Pinkerton, who has a history with Crowe's band of outlaws. Luke Wilson is less successful, and his slacker-ish persona simply appears out of place in the Old West.

5) Nearly every great Western has a climatic final scene that can make or break the film. "3:10 to Yuma" has an above-average finale, but for some reason, it didn't give me the usual jolt that the all-time Westerns possess. This is mostly due to the sudden overhwhelming sentimentality that overtakes it, and lessens the appeal.

All in all, "3:10 to Yuma" is a solid addition to the Western genre with top-notch acting talent which helps raise a mediocre plot above its roots. The film isn't good enough to crossover and draw in movie fans who don't care for this genre, but if you're prone to liking this type of project, you won't be too disappointed with the results.

-BDS

Quick Hit Friday . . .

"If all the animals along the equator were capable of flattery, then Thanksgiving and Halloween would fall on the same date." - George Clooney, "Ocean's 12"


That was easily the best line in that movie, but it makes me laugh every single time. Laughing is a good thing, and I'm in a good mood since it's been a short work week and before the weekend begins, let's tackle serious news items such as:

In Blonde Ambition: The Untold Story Behind Anna Nicole Smith's Death, a new tell-all tome by former MSNBC talking head Rita Cosby, the author makes a series of potentially reputation-damaging allegations against both Larry Birkhead and onetime paternity challenger Howard K. Stern — allegations against which Birkhead has already threatened legal action.

Per a press release sent by Grand Central Publishing, "eyewitnesses say they {Birkhead & Stern} were caught in a compromising position." The position in question was allegedly one that involved oral sex.


Just reading that statement and allegation is a severe compromise for my eyes, which I plan to wash out with bleach if any pictures ever arise.

Brad Pitt and his partner Angelina Jolie are ready for another child, the actor said Sunday as he was promoting film as Jesse James at the Venice Film Festival.

Pitt and Jolie already have four children including a 15-month-old girl, Shiloh, born to the couple. Jolie has also adopted three children close in age from Cambodia, Ethiopia and Vietnam.


I admire Pitt/Jolie for their efforts, but Pitt must be half-crazy because if I was living with Jolie, I wouldn't want any additional kids around to make her tired and cut down on "adult time" in the bedroom.

Heath Ledger and Michelle Williams have reportedly split up after three years together.

A People magazine source said: "It was rocky for awhile. They did what they could to make it work", adding that the split was amicable.


Williams is reportedly moving back to New York while Ledger was last seen in the vicinity of "Brokeback Mountain" yelling something about being "able to quit you bitch."

While Jerry Lewis raised millions of dollars during his annual Labor Day telethon, he also caused a bit of controversy after he introduced an unseen family member with a description of "the illiterate faggot."


I bet Lewis wishes the person in question was both deaf and illiterate after tossing off that asinine statement.

Police arrested Jude Law for allegedly attacking a photographer outside his London home, British media reported Wednesday after the 34-year-old actor allegedly tried to grab the photographer's camera during the incident.


I guess Jude found out that nobody was above the Law this week. Ouch. Horrible pun.

Moving on, Halle Berry revealed she is expecting her first child with partner Gabriel Aubry, a male model, this week.

"Gabriel and I are beyond excited and I've waited a long time for this moment in my life," she said.


I feel sorry for that poor kid because with Berry and a male model for his gene pool, that child is going to be one ugly bastard.

Tobey Maguire married his baby mama, Jennifer Meyer, in a secret ceremony in Hawaii this week as the parents of 9-month-old Ruby Sweetheart, were reportedly hitched in a sunset ceremony on Maui.


This story is so boring, I'm not really sure why I even mentioned it.

Luciano Pavarotti, whose vibrant high C's and ebullient showmanship made him the most beloved and celebrated tenor since Caruso and one of the few opera singers to win crossover fame as a popular superstar, died Thursday. He was 71.


I am not a big opera fan, but Pavarotti always seemed like he would be a fun guy to share a bowl of pasta and some red wine with and it's too bad that he's gone.

A California judge on Wednesday formally ordered the former husband of Jennifer Lopez to pay the singer-actress $545,000 for trying to publish a tell-all book about their relationship.

The ruling affirmed an earlier arbitrator's decision in the case, which included awarding Lopez a permanent injunction barring her ex-spouse, Ojani Noa, from disclosing information about their relationship for personal gain.


Now that Lopez is getting her money, she can send me the $9 she owes me from subjecting the world to "Gigli."

Since I'm in a good mood, let's end with a gold image like:


I'm no masochist, however, sometimes euphoria leads to perversion and a little discipline is needed. So, with that in mind, rule with an iron fist today, keep your nose to the grindstone and . . . Happy Friday!

-BDS

Stinkin' Showers . . .

Nearly every day of the week, I take a shower at my gym before work. I equate this ritual to one of life's necessary evils, and enjoy it roughly as much as taxes, taxidermy and ritual floggings.

This morning, however, I entered my individual shower and was immediately hit with a stench from the previous occupant that almost knocked me down with its awful olfactory power. It smelled like a decomposing warthog was in the shower beside me.


After taking a quick look around, my theory didn't hold up, which only made me more disgusted that some other human being smelled that badly. I sweat at the gym, but if you apply a few quick hits of deodorant before working out then you don't end up stinking like rotten cheese and old feet mixed together.

It's a common courtesy that somehow eluded this rank individual.

Matthew McConaughey is a famous example of someone who refuses to wear deodorant as he has claimed that he doesn't want anyone's scent on him but his own. The problem with this argument is that nobody who sweats for extended periods of time smells good naturally.


I tend to like McConaughey, but he's dead wrong here as I have a strong suspicion that he is no exception to this rule.

If you sweat, you stink. You stink less if you wear deodorant and if you subscribe to some "all-natural" odor doctrine, then kindly stay the hell out of my shower stall because your stench should not linger long after you're gone.

-BDS

The Greatest Sex Around Part 9 . . .

{This is the ninth in a semi-regular series of posts regarding great cinematic sex scenes as defined by me. This is completely arbitrary and open for interpretation, but so is life.}

Like the majority of Oliver Stone's atrocious film, "Alexander," the sex scene between Colin Farrell and Rosario Dawson is unintentionally hilarious, overwrought and yet still vaguely entertaining.


This film looked good on paper with a cast including Val Kilmer (sporting one-eye and yelling a lot), Angelina Jolie (displaying a bizarre Transylvanian accent for no apparent reason) and Anthony Hopkins (collecting a paycheck) along with Dawson and Farell, yet the acting is nearly as bad as Farrell's putrid dye job, an oversight that left Alexander the Great looking like he dipped his head into orange Kool-Aid.


But let's not distract from the sex scene, which earned a place among the elite due to its sheer entertainment value rather than the erotic qualities, which are minimal.

Even Dawson's curvy body and nudity couldn't save this one, however, as the mood is irrevocably altered when the pair start making growling noises at each other. I realize they are supposed to be imitating animal passions or something like that, but it doesn't work.


Instead, all the growling and scratching leads to more laughs than anything else. It also doesn't help Alexander's case for world domination that it appears that Dawson could have torn him limb from limb in this scene as Farrell lacks a commanding presence both on the battlefield and in the bedroom.

In the context of the overall film, this scene fits nicely among many others of questionable talent and skill, but for the purposes of this series, it earns a place among the all-time greats for being infamous rather than great.

-BDS

Overheard At A Sports Bar . . .

I don't go to Sports Bars for stimulating conversation in much the same way that I don't drive to strip clubs for the $3.99 steak and shrimp platter (despite the quality of the lunch menu at the Yellow Rose).


Typically, I prefer to invite people to my loft to gorge on barbecue and beers while watching college football. But for UT's opening game this past Saturday, I found myself holed up inside a sports bar in downtown Austin for nearly 6 hours watching many games with a group of noble savages.

By the numbers:

Pitchers of beer ordered: 12


Mini-corn dog platters: 2
Cheese-Fries: 1
Shots ordered: 8
Jokes made concerning said chicken sandwich and questionable manhood: > 14
Chicken sandwiches ordered: 1
Trips to the bathroom: > 7
Waitresses serving us: 3
Approximate number of people at the bar: 500

As I mentioned, I'm not striving for conversations about N. Korea's pledge to shut down their reactors, the ongoing shift in the forthcoming democratic primaries or the far-reaching subprime mortage meltdown on College Football Saturdays.

Those topics can be handled during the week, and I enjoy turning off my brain to allow for creative-thinking and indulge in healthy bombastic buffonery that would still leave me about 50 IQ points higher than Miss Teen South Caroina.


That last part is neither here nor there, but at some point during the day, I started to hear snippets of other bar conversations which were pretty damn funny, especially as the hours continued passing.

The conversational tidbits overheard included:

"Man, I want to take those mannequins home and fuck them silly." - In fairness, they did have some hot mannequins promoting the t-shirts and underwear the bar had for sale.


"Goddamn, my ass is asleep."

"Why do all chairs have 4 legs? It's like some kind of weird conspiracy."

"That bitch in the bathroom looked like a total whore." - This was from a woman dressed in a tight denim skirt that stopped 1/2 inch below her pelvis, a half-shirt and cowboy boots.

"My girlfriend called me a loser. Then she started crying and passed out."

"I'm not going to Nicaragua. If I can't spell it, then I'm not going there."


"You just pissed on my foot."

I'm really going to miss those conversations next Saturday when I have people back at my place to watch the UT-TCU game, but then again, it's possible some of those statements originated from my table.

Sometimes it's best not to think too deeply about these matters.

-BDS