His voice was a low rasping croak. “Ice cream.”
She looked up. “What?”
“Ice cream. It’s almost midnight, so I’m getting ice cream.”
She nodded slowly.
Sometimes I narrate my life in third person noir.
“Good God” has become my go-to expression of exasperation lately, thanks entirely to Jack Donaghy’s signature catch phrase on 30 Rock. So as I watched my overworked laptop play the show on Hulu as a stuttering, poorly synched version of an English-dubbed Japanese sitcom starring Tina Fey this afternoon instead of going on a bike ride like I promised motivated, self-confident Last Night Me, prompting a string of unintelligible cursing followed by a hearty, inflected “Good God!”, I realized the phrase had come full circle.
More importantly, though, why is there not a supercut of Jack Donaghy saying “Good God, Lemon!”??
21 Jump Street and laughter conditioning
21 Jump Street offers a smart meta-commentary on the buddy cop genre and overused Hollywood tropes in general, and also Jonah Hill falls down a lot. Both are funny, but unless you want to be obnoxious you should probably reserve your laughter for no more than two of these tiers of humor found in the movie:
1. Jonah Hill falling down
2. Subversion of Hollywood tropes (expected explosions not happening, socially and environmentally conscious try-hards as the cool kids, ect.)
3. Meta-commentary (basically everything Ice T says)
4. Side characters being “goofy” and/or falling down.
I went with 2 and 3 because I felt they weren’t getting enough attention at my theater (I saw it in San Antonio with my parents; a decidedly older and less savvy audience than my local Alamo Drafthouse in Austin). This probably says less about the supposed unsophistication of that audience as it does my own uptight smugness, but, like, whatever. In my defense, laughing extra hard at the less obvious jokes and references is what you have to do, as part of the hyper-aware 20-something fake-proud-nerd generation that the movie so cleverly pokes fun of, to prove that you “get” it.
But maybe I don’t, because Jonah Hill falling down is, ultimately, the most genuinely funny thing that can happen in a movie, sophistication be damned.
(Source: animalsthatdopeoplethings)
My parents sent me this from Philadelphia. It’s a half-pound of solid chocolate, which, to my knowledge, does not make this an authentic Philly cheesesteak, but I’ll take it.
You multiply NASA’s budget a factor of two or three and you give it a grand vision. You say, ‘We’re going back to the moon, we’re going to Mars. Oh, by the way, we’re going to be on Mars on this date, and right now we are looking at the elementary school children of the nation to see who has the right stuff, because by the time we’re ready to go to Mars, they will be the right age to be astronauts.’ You attract an entire generation of people into these epic projects. And to solve those problems that have never been solved before, they have to invent things. They have to have new ideas. New branches of mathematics get discovered. This feeds into society, into our culture. It’s a difficult sell, but I think it’s our only hope.
Old Folks sausage raises so many questions! Questions like, “what?” and “why?” and “has it come to a point already where our retired citizens must be made into food to sustain our bloated population?”
I am all for honesty in advertising, but they could have employed a little more subtlety here. Soylent Green at least led you to believe it was something plant-like and pleasant. These guys, though, I mean what kind of sick game are they playing here? “Let’s have old folks eating old folks!” “Yeah! And the oldest one, who’s clearly sick and frail, can croak her last words right into the camera—something like ‘it all began in the kitchen’” “—and BAM! It all ends in the kitchen.” “Brilliant. Killed and eaten by her own granddaughter.” “Beautiful. Poetic.” “For sure.”
To have this nightmarish image of a young farm boy angrily devouring the compressed patties of his grandparents forced upon my unsuspecting eyes is unsettling enough at the grocery store:
But to suffer these horrors on my own television, in my own house where I am just trying to watch Kentucky basketball and it’s 1996, oh no I will not stand for it!
Lionel Messi Never Dives.
This is true. It is known. He just does not have time for it. If he went down every time he was fouled, jiu jitsued, swiped at, cleated, hacked or bruised, he’d have no time to be the greatest player in the history of the sport.*
*That’s right.
Craigslist
Brand new east 6th-ish, HEB adjacent, fenced, 4 bed, 2 bath, washer/dryer equipped house for $472? Get OUT! Just kidding, move in tomorrow!
So close to HEB you could start referring to it as “the kitchen” and it might catch on as a roommate in-joke if you sell it well enough. There is an actual kitchen though, where one of us likes to bake (hello!) and the other two boil water occasionally. We French press our coffee here ‘cause we’re classy as shit. Think Downton Abbey but with a cat. Do watch out for that cat though, it melts into our stained concrete floors like a chameleon shadow yet still manages to look down on you. Come join us attractive 20-somethings (girl, girl, boy) and enjoy such activities as: -biking to nearby bars -walking our bikes home from nearby bars
Must love, be ambivalent toward, or fall somewhere in the continuum between, cats. Also SXSW is next month why are you not responding right now with a bit about yourself seriously stop reading start writing omg you’ve blown it jesus mary joseph what is wrong with you.
