Ég sá The Dark Knight á Mánudaginn og hún var sjúk, helsjúk. Hún var smitandi get ég sagt ykkur, svo smitandi sjúk að ég varð veikur á miðvikudaginn. Það er samt ekkert grín, ég gat ekki farið í skólann á miðvikudaginn. Það er samt djöfulsins synd með hann Heath Ledger þar sem það er nokkuð augljóst að hann hefði átt að koma fram í fleiri myndum, hann dó ekki í endann á myndinni, hvernig snúa þeir sig úr þeirri flækju... Johnny Depp sem djókerinn í næstu mynd, ég eiginlega vona ekki. Það getur enginn leikið þetta hlutverk aftur, Heath tók það, át það og skeit því aftur út, það er hluti af honum núna. Það er ekki hægt að snerta þetta shjitt... bókstaflega.
(það eru spoilerar í eftirfarandi texta, ekki mikli samt. Ekki mikið úr sögunni)
Myndin var samt geðveik, eiginlega meira The Untouchables en eitthvað annað en samt sem áður gríðarlega áhugaverð skemmtun. Það er nokkrir hlutir sem er vert að nefna engu að síður, hvað var málið með röddina hans Batman gamla, ég veit að hann er með eitthvað sjitt sem breytir röddinni hans svo enginn þekki hann, en hún er svo dimm að það mætti halda að hann eigi meira Whiskey en Johnny Walker... heyjó! Sorry. Röddin hans er samt virkilega fokked. Það var líka óþarfi að koma með þetta virkilega augljósa skot á Bandarísk stjórnvöld með vélina sem Batman býr til sem getur hlustað á alla síma í Gotham (a.k.a Chicago). "No one man should have this much power." Duh. "Hey, allir sjáiði. Við erum að grilla stjórnina, takið eftir þessu. Eruði að ná þessu, kommon. Aftur, Morgan, segðu eitthvað meira, bara aðeins minna dulkóðað í þetta sinn."
Allavega, nóg komið.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Spennandi Tímar
Það eru spennandi tímar í Vancouver borg þessa daganna. Af hverju? Bíðið róleg lesendur góðir, ég er að fara upplýsa ykkur.
Þannig er mál með vexti, börnin góð, að ég, ásamt nokkrum kvikmyndaskóla félögum mínum, er að fara að taka upp stuttmynd. Nei, ég skrifaði ekki handritið heldur góðvinur minn hann Colin. Myndin er um gæja sem kaupir sér nýjan sófa og heldur partý til þess að halda upp á það, en viti menn, það fylgir böggull skammrifi (eins og gengur og gerist) og hann verður alltof fullur og ælir á sófann sinn. Þetta er gull og ég er ekki að grínast.
Næsta mynd sem við tökum upp (ef þessi gengur vel) verður eftir mig og er handritiði byggt á smásögunni sem ég póstaði hérna upp á dögunum. Cool stöff. Ef þið viljið tékka á handritinu endilega spyrjist fyrir, annaðhvort hérna í kommentunum eða á msn (eins og maður gerir).
En ég er að spá í að bomba bara endanlegu útgáfunni af sögunni hér inn:
The Chronicles of a Hangover: The Headache, the Aspirin and the Porn Director.
“Some nights we got so drunk it’s like we missed the feeling of a never ending headache and a spinning ceiling.”
-Vast Aire of Cannibal Ox, “Painkillers”.
Try and wake up, try and wake up… eyes open… thank god I’m at home but where was I last night… That’s gonna be the question of the day… a shot of tequila and blank, nothing, zilch, zero… man my stomach is upset at me, it feels like I drank clay last night or some sort of solid liquidy substance… better try and fix my head somehow, aspirin sounds like a sound idea… I heard somewhere that sugar water helps to tide your stomach over… it better because anything I eat right now will be projectile in five minutes flat…
Spider monkeys are lucky they’re funny with their running around and screaming, discovery channel’s great when one’s got a headache that feels like Tom Arnold’s career… what the hell happened last night?... I feel like Arnie in “Total Recall”… that’s funny cos’ that’s exactly what I need right now, total recall, love the pun...
-“Hey, what’s up buddy?” I sound like Johnny Cash if his voice sounded like shit.
-“How’s it going? Man, you were pretty wild last night,” sometimes I hate this guy’s guts. He doesn’t sound hung-over at all.
-“Yeah, I can’t remember anything after that tequila shot.”
-Really? That was at… like… one o’clock?
-“Yeah, that sounds about right,” even if I have no clue when I had that shot.
-“Uhm, after that you met that slightly overweight actress and gave her some business card but before that I lost you for like a half hour and then you were giving everybody those business cards.”
-“Business cards? Better check my pockets. Do you remember who this chick is?” I really hope I don’t sound as worried as I am.
-No, she gave you some digits. Look through your phone.
-Yeah all right, see ya later.
-Later.
Checking my pockets…
1. Lighter (don’t know why that’s there because I don’t smoke)
2. Cigarettes (there you go)
3. Cell phone (better check that later)
4. 8 business cards reading:
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Adult entertainment Real Girls Real Action
Johnny Dumoine, Porn Director.
Phone no: 604 789 6789 jdumoine@realgirls.com
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I don’t remember this at all... the overweight actress may be the only person I can call, besides Johnny Dumoine, Porn Director… I’m not prepared to do that… a few text messages from somebody named Claire, that has to be her… calling this chick quite blindly.
-“Hi… uhm… I met you last night and, --“
-“Oh, Johnny, hi,” thank goodness she interrupted me. Her voice sounds kinda nice, sexy. Maybe it’s always like this or maybe she had 8 bottles of whiskey last night.
-“Yeah... Johnny, that’s me. Listen, I’m curious, I know I met you at Morrey’s but I’m having trouble recalling what exactly went down.”
-“You remember the Scepter, right?”
-“The ridiculously expensive hotel lounge? Yes, yes of course I remember that,” obviously I don’t, but sometimes you have to do what you have to do… what does that even mean? “Did I buy you any drinks?”
-“No, but --“
Hung up on her… didn’t need any more information… I can’t believe I went to the Scepter those are like $11 beers, completely outrageous… headache coming back, more aspirin needed… somebody ringing the doorbell, better go check that out… this guy looks about as smarmy as a senators son, wearing a suit that might be cheaper than my t-shirt… two women with him… I don’t see how they could possibly be wearing less clothes without being arrested.
- “Hi, I’m Johnny Dumoine, Porn Director,” he flashes a smile that would break the smarm-o-meter if such a thing existed.
- “Hi, Johnny. I think I have some of your business cards
- “You should have some of my cards. We made a business deal last night.”
- “Business deal?”
-“Yeah, I have a contract stipulating that we can shoot a scene in your house; it’ll only take like an hour,” he holds the contract up next to his face, smile still going.
…is that legal?… what can I do?... he has a contract… but I was drunk… I’ve got to take this, what else is there to do?…
- Okay, go ahead.
- You can watch if you want.
- No, I’m sorry. I have to find someone to sterilize my apartment.
What the shit is this?… it’s fucked up, I might have to move after this… I wonder if they’ll give me a copy of that movie… no, no, no, I don’t need a copy… of course I don’t need it, would I want one?... who cares?…whatever… I need to get out of here… but to do what?... maybe I can hussle some money of this dude to get some beers.
This bar sucks, there are like 8 people in here and if they all combined I would still have more teeth than them … this one’s finished, better order another… I have $10 left of the money I hassled out of Mr. Dumoine… since I’ve got jack all to and tomorrow’s a Sunday I might as well get assfaced tonight… I wonder what Claire’s doing?
“I don’t mean to be troublesome but I could sure use a quick shot of double rum”
-MF Doom, “Figaro.”
Þannig er mál með vexti, börnin góð, að ég, ásamt nokkrum kvikmyndaskóla félögum mínum, er að fara að taka upp stuttmynd. Nei, ég skrifaði ekki handritið heldur góðvinur minn hann Colin. Myndin er um gæja sem kaupir sér nýjan sófa og heldur partý til þess að halda upp á það, en viti menn, það fylgir böggull skammrifi (eins og gengur og gerist) og hann verður alltof fullur og ælir á sófann sinn. Þetta er gull og ég er ekki að grínast.
Næsta mynd sem við tökum upp (ef þessi gengur vel) verður eftir mig og er handritiði byggt á smásögunni sem ég póstaði hérna upp á dögunum. Cool stöff. Ef þið viljið tékka á handritinu endilega spyrjist fyrir, annaðhvort hérna í kommentunum eða á msn (eins og maður gerir).
En ég er að spá í að bomba bara endanlegu útgáfunni af sögunni hér inn:
The Chronicles of a Hangover: The Headache, the Aspirin and the Porn Director.
“Some nights we got so drunk it’s like we missed the feeling of a never ending headache and a spinning ceiling.”
-Vast Aire of Cannibal Ox, “Painkillers”.
Try and wake up, try and wake up… eyes open… thank god I’m at home but where was I last night… That’s gonna be the question of the day… a shot of tequila and blank, nothing, zilch, zero… man my stomach is upset at me, it feels like I drank clay last night or some sort of solid liquidy substance… better try and fix my head somehow, aspirin sounds like a sound idea… I heard somewhere that sugar water helps to tide your stomach over… it better because anything I eat right now will be projectile in five minutes flat…
Spider monkeys are lucky they’re funny with their running around and screaming, discovery channel’s great when one’s got a headache that feels like Tom Arnold’s career… what the hell happened last night?... I feel like Arnie in “Total Recall”… that’s funny cos’ that’s exactly what I need right now, total recall, love the pun...
-“Hey, what’s up buddy?” I sound like Johnny Cash if his voice sounded like shit.
-“How’s it going? Man, you were pretty wild last night,” sometimes I hate this guy’s guts. He doesn’t sound hung-over at all.
-“Yeah, I can’t remember anything after that tequila shot.”
-Really? That was at… like… one o’clock?
-“Yeah, that sounds about right,” even if I have no clue when I had that shot.
-“Uhm, after that you met that slightly overweight actress and gave her some business card but before that I lost you for like a half hour and then you were giving everybody those business cards.”
-“Business cards? Better check my pockets. Do you remember who this chick is?” I really hope I don’t sound as worried as I am.
-No, she gave you some digits. Look through your phone.
-Yeah all right, see ya later.
-Later.
Checking my pockets…
1. Lighter (don’t know why that’s there because I don’t smoke)
2. Cigarettes (there you go)
3. Cell phone (better check that later)
4. 8 business cards reading:
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Adult entertainment Real Girls Real Action
Johnny Dumoine, Porn Director.
Phone no: 604 789 6789 jdumoine@realgirls.com
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I don’t remember this at all... the overweight actress may be the only person I can call, besides Johnny Dumoine, Porn Director… I’m not prepared to do that… a few text messages from somebody named Claire, that has to be her… calling this chick quite blindly.
-“Hi… uhm… I met you last night and, --“
-“Oh, Johnny, hi,” thank goodness she interrupted me. Her voice sounds kinda nice, sexy. Maybe it’s always like this or maybe she had 8 bottles of whiskey last night.
-“Yeah... Johnny, that’s me. Listen, I’m curious, I know I met you at Morrey’s but I’m having trouble recalling what exactly went down.”
-“You remember the Scepter, right?”
-“The ridiculously expensive hotel lounge? Yes, yes of course I remember that,” obviously I don’t, but sometimes you have to do what you have to do… what does that even mean? “Did I buy you any drinks?”
-“No, but --“
Hung up on her… didn’t need any more information… I can’t believe I went to the Scepter those are like $11 beers, completely outrageous… headache coming back, more aspirin needed… somebody ringing the doorbell, better go check that out… this guy looks about as smarmy as a senators son, wearing a suit that might be cheaper than my t-shirt… two women with him… I don’t see how they could possibly be wearing less clothes without being arrested.
- “Hi, I’m Johnny Dumoine, Porn Director,” he flashes a smile that would break the smarm-o-meter if such a thing existed.
- “Hi, Johnny. I think I have some of your business cards
- “You should have some of my cards. We made a business deal last night.”
- “Business deal?”
-“Yeah, I have a contract stipulating that we can shoot a scene in your house; it’ll only take like an hour,” he holds the contract up next to his face, smile still going.
…is that legal?… what can I do?... he has a contract… but I was drunk… I’ve got to take this, what else is there to do?…
- Okay, go ahead.
- You can watch if you want.
- No, I’m sorry. I have to find someone to sterilize my apartment.
What the shit is this?… it’s fucked up, I might have to move after this… I wonder if they’ll give me a copy of that movie… no, no, no, I don’t need a copy… of course I don’t need it, would I want one?... who cares?…whatever… I need to get out of here… but to do what?... maybe I can hussle some money of this dude to get some beers.
This bar sucks, there are like 8 people in here and if they all combined I would still have more teeth than them … this one’s finished, better order another… I have $10 left of the money I hassled out of Mr. Dumoine… since I’ve got jack all to and tomorrow’s a Sunday I might as well get assfaced tonight… I wonder what Claire’s doing?
“I don’t mean to be troublesome but I could sure use a quick shot of double rum”
-MF Doom, “Figaro.”
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
kanadadagur
Það er Kanada Dagur í dag, a.k.a Canada Day og miðað við útlitið á flestum niðrí bæ þá er líka Hawaii skyrtu dagur. Það er eitthvað sem ég er miklu mun spenntari fyrir. Til þess að fagna þessum merkisdegi þá fór ég niðrá strönd með einhverjum peeps og drakk bjór þangað til mér var tjáð að það mætti ekki drekka bjór úti og löggan kom og bað okkur um að hella bj´ronum okkar í sandinn. Djöfulsins synd verð ég að segja en ég tók niður punkta fyrir verðandi fyllera:
1. Bakpoki.
Ekki mikið meira, það lítur út fyrir að bakpoka fyllerí sé möst hérna í bresku kólumbíu.
Ég var að sjá að James Posey ætlar ekki að vera með Boston á næsta ári, djöfulsins málaliði er hann. Hann vinnur titil og beilar síðan. Ég sá líka að Lakers væru að spá í að fá hann, ég veit ekki alveg hvað mér finnst um það. Á einn bóginn er fínt að fá einn gaur sem maður veit að á ekki íbúð í Choke City eða heimsækir borgina oft (ég er virkilega að draga þess Choke City myndlíkingu niður í svaðið) en á sama tíma þá drap hann mína menn í úrslitinum helvítið af honum. Ég er á grindverkinu enn sem komið er varðandi Posey.
Bara að segja þetta gott.
1. Bakpoki.
Ekki mikið meira, það lítur út fyrir að bakpoka fyllerí sé möst hérna í bresku kólumbíu.
Ég var að sjá að James Posey ætlar ekki að vera með Boston á næsta ári, djöfulsins málaliði er hann. Hann vinnur titil og beilar síðan. Ég sá líka að Lakers væru að spá í að fá hann, ég veit ekki alveg hvað mér finnst um það. Á einn bóginn er fínt að fá einn gaur sem maður veit að á ekki íbúð í Choke City eða heimsækir borgina oft (ég er virkilega að draga þess Choke City myndlíkingu niður í svaðið) en á sama tíma þá drap hann mína menn í úrslitinum helvítið af honum. Ég er á grindverkinu enn sem komið er varðandi Posey.
Bara að segja þetta gott.
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