March 31, 2008
Movie meme
Updated: Another quote for #6.
Updated: All done. Clearly it was too easy.
I give. It's not like I've been posting anything else, and Hiromi, Karl, Syl, and DN have got me hooked on this movie quiz thingy.
Fifteen movie quotes. Guess the movie the quote is from. Answer in the comments. First one with the right answer gets fame and/or fortune and/or a cookie. (Note: being mentioned on my blog counts as fame.) For bonus points, tell me the actor and the character name.
And no cheating. Yes, Google and IMDB and anything else like it are cheating.
1. "Nice guy? I don't give a shit. Good father? Fuck you! Go home and play with your kids."
GlenGarry Glen Ross, guessed by ttrentham.
2. "No. It means I was drunk yesterday."
School of Rock, Jack Black, guessed by mikesmiley.
3. "Oh...you are sick."
Eraserhead, guessed by Peris.
4. "Come in through the door!"
Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Barry, guessed by Chilly Bill.
5. "If you're going to shoot, shoot. Don't talk."
The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly, guessed by dt.
6. "It's a mother beautiful bridge, and it's gonna be there."
6. Quote #2: "Woof woof woof! That was my other dog imitation."
Kelly's Heroes guessed by Chilly Billy.
7. "I rule!"
American Beauty, Kevin Spacey guessed by fredlet.
8. "Right side. And with...intensity. OK?"
Lost in Translation, guessed by Syl.
9. "I walk into someone's place of work, they shit scared. They know I'm not a cop. Think I've come to kill 'em."
Repo Man, Lite talking to Otto, guessed by Pat.
10. "What's wrong with the way I talk? What's the big idea? Am I dumb or something?"
Singing in the Rain, guessed by Syl.
11. "That's fuckin' blasphemy. Elvis wasn't a Cajun."
The Commitments, guessed by Darkneuro.
12. "...do the right thing. Stay out of the way of the bullets. And bring your hiney home all in one piece."
Apocalypse Now, guessed by Hiromi.
13. "May the Blessings of the Bomb Almighty, and the Fellowship of the Holy Fallout, descend upon us all. This day and forever more."
Beneath The Planet of the Apes, guessed by ttrentham.
14. "I'm gonna take this right foot, and I'm gonna whop you on that side of your face, and you wanna know something? There's not a damn thing you're gonna be able to do about it. "
Billy Jack, guessed by Karl Elvis.
15. "Are they slow-moving, chief?" "Yeah, they're dead. They're all messed up."
Night of the Living Dead, guessed by Peris.
Posted by ray at 2:37 PM | Comments (25)
December 7, 2007
Mrs. Cora Foster's house
Mrs. Cora Foster's house, slow-mo demolition in progress.
August 2006, right after salvaging some family heirlooms and giving up on gutting halfway through due to the structural unsoundness:
October 2007, I drove by to see what it looked like. Of all the houses I've done, this was one of the special ones because of the history involved:
Karen said she saw Mrs. Cora's daughters approving the demolition a couple of months ago, so I wasn't sure it would still be there, but this is what it looks like today:
The foliage is coming back, somebody has ripped the porch roof half off, and somebody pushed the front window right out of the frame. I thought about climbing in and looking around, but I didn't have a mold mask with me (the mold is still really bad), and something about that open window said "crackhead" to me.
Apparently the city's demolition plan is to let vandals and crackheads and the elements take these houses apart over a series of decades, so that we can all grow old watching it while we pass around Klonopin and Zoloft in candy dishes.
I harbor this fantasy that one day I will happen to drive by and they'll be knocking it down, and that back closet will be ripped open by a backhoe, that closet that we could never search well because it was on the other side of a collapsing floor and a head-high ramshackle pile of moldy rotting bedroom furniture. And the demo contractors will listen to me explain what might be in that rubble, and instead of having me arrested, they'll let me dig through the pile and I'll find all that documentation on Buddy Bolden and Honore Dutrey from the Smithsonian that we never found.
And I harbor this other fantasy that one day Karen says "Ray, whatcha doin' today?" and we just fucking go over there with some masks and trespass and go Katrina-spelunking and take one last crack at finding it now that the house is a little bit drier.
If I'd had a mask, I might have been tempted today, but it's not a safe house to be alone in. At this point, I imagine it's haunted. Buddy Bolden was a crazy motherfucker at the end, and they're making a movie about him now so his ghost is probably on the prowl.
Posted by ray at 5:48 PM | Comments (5)
October 24, 2007
Control
[Minor spoilers ahead for people who don't know anything at all about Joy Division.]
The other night I got to see Control, the new biopic about Joy Division vocalist Ian Curtis, who took his own life in 1980 at the age of 23, thus sealing his status as an eternal rock legend.
I first learned about Joy Division from reading about his death in Creem Magazine, the summer after my 16th birthday. In fact, most of the cool music I first learned about was music that I only read about and never heard. I knew gobs about obscure bands like Joy Division and Panther Burns and Siouxsie and the Banshees and Gang of Four and the Alley Cats just because I'd read about them, because Robert Christgau had an opinion about them, and I rarely heard them because it was stuff that it was hard to hear at the time even on WTUL, and I didn't have much of a budget for buying music, especially expensive imports. But the short Creem blurb about Joy Division, their music, and Ian's death, accompanied by this haunting photo, really stuck with me. It felt like the Quadrophenia thing I talked about the other day, but taken to a much darker place, a place I hadn't been to yet but could see from here.
In college, I became one of those kids who lived in the Joy Division world a little too deeply. When I was 19 I used to say, in all seriousness, that I hoped I didn't live to see 30 and that I would make sure I didn't. I was moody, I was depressed. (And chicks dug it, at least a few of them, which was an added bonus. Mysterious moody bad boy. Until they would get sick of my morose shit and dump me, which then further fed the beast.)
Seeing Control was a big deal for me. And on the heels of last week's Quadrophenia epiphany, on the eve of my teetering sobriety anniversary, it affected me deeply.
From a pure film critic point of view, you could probably pick it apart for a lackluster ending, for the lack of depth of character of the other band members.
None of that matters to me. Greg Peters has called this, with a hint of derision, "The Passion of the Christ", but for me, in trying to newly process my memories of my life as a 19-year-old vaguely suicidal alcoholic, it really was exactly that. I needed to see inside Ian's head. I needed to understand. I needed to know why.
And why, as it turns out, was a simple garden variety love triangle. Ian got married too young, before his art and his importance had flourished, and he fell out of love with the mother of his child and in love with somebody who would have been his soulmate if only he had waited a few more years to meet her. And his epilepsy and other health problems prevented him from dealing emotionally with the complications of living in the fucked up situation he had place himself in. And one night, in a moment of great pain and pressure and confusion and weakness, he hung himself.
So when you see the movie and re-listen to the music in the context of what was going on in his life, you realize that what he did was pour his feelings and his doubts and his regrets into his songs. Literally. Literally in the extreme. When he writes in "Love Will Tear Us Apart":
When routine bites hard,
And ambitions are low,
And resentment rides high
But emotions won't grow,
And we're changing our ways,
Taking different roads,
Then love, love will tear us apart againWhy is the bedroom so cold?
Turned away on your side.
Is my timing that flawed,
Our respect run so dry?
Yet there's still this appeal
That we've kept through our lives
And love, love will tear us apart again
he is writing about his wife, and he knows his wife knows he is writing about her, and she knows that the whole world knows that he is writing about her. But he wrote and recorded it anyway.
As art, it is a profound piece of work.
As a way to treat a person you love...it seems morally questionable. Is inflicting pain like this somehow justified if great music or literature or art is the result?
Yet, if you strip out all the interpersonal relationship complications and all the regret and pain from Ian's lyrics, you're not left with fucking much else besides "dance dance dance dance dance to the radio". If all that emotional raw material was not available to him as a lyricist, then likely nobody would have ever heard of Joy Division, nobody would have ever made a movie about them, and I wouldn't be writing a blog post trying to explain why this is all so personally important.
So what the fuck does all this have to do with me?
Because I've been wrestling with these very issues for a long time. Some of you may remember that I did a big purge of some archives of my blog a year or so ago because I wrote some things there that hurt some people that I love very much, not expecting that they would ever read them. And so certain topics and certain people are no longer discussed here, because the risk is too great.
I have coworkers who have found my blog. My wife's coworkers and derby friends read it. My parents and possibly my brothers and for all I know my kids friends from school read this stuff. So my blog slowly constricts down to that which is safe, which is inoffensive, non-worrisome, and family-hour friendly. Circe said to me a few years ago, "your blog is just brochure-ware now...you post about bands you like and movies you saw and you link to funny pictures you found on the internet, but you don't actually say anything any more. Your blog is just a brochure of Ray". As if I were a hotel chain now, and this is just an inoffensive and inviting protrayal about what a fun and interesting guy Ray is. Hotel Ray is kid-friendly, serves crawfish ettoufee in the main restaurant, has Mission of Burma karaoke every Tuesday, and shows all the Red Sox games in the Sporty Sport bar on the mezzanine.
But it's just a blog, right? I mean, who cares? But the same conflict holds true for any kind of writing, and that is where I am really struggling. I want to be a writer. Published and all. I have one published work under my belt, a humorous little memoir about working as a float grunt during Mardi Gras in the 70's, which was published right after the storm by Chin Music Press. That story worked because I am pretty good at telling true stories in a funny and entertaining and only slightly embellished way. I want to write more; I've got a short story in progress, and a short speculative fiction novel taking shape in my head. But I write best when I write what I know, when I base my writing, at least loosely, on things that have actually happened to me or to people I know.
But other than a handful of humorous anecdotes, the really important, real literature-worthy things that I've experienced, are things that must remain private.
I can't do what Augusten Burroughs did in Running With Scissors or Dry. I can't just let fly on everybody I know, burn every bridge, and let the chips fall where they may. There are people involved, people I love, people I don't want to hurt. I want to write painful stories, but those stories are painful for other people too, not just me.
So I don't write anything interesting. I'm crap for making stuff up completely out of whole cloth. I can't do pure fiction the way somebody like Stephen King or William Gibson can. There has to be some of me in there or the words just don't come.
I don't know the way out of this conunudrum. I wrestle with emotional issues as significant as Ian Curtis...different ones, to be sure, but just as significant...but I am bound by duty to family and friends, and by rules of social and workplace decorum not to write about them.
I think I'll figure it out. Maybe I'll find my fiction voice one of these days. But right now it's fucking hard.
In the meantime, I am going to try, try really hard, to not let this blog be brochureware all the damn time.
[P.S. I feel I must add that if you read the above and try to infer anything about my marriage or my relationship with any of my family members or friends or any of my past relationships...if you think you know what specific people or events or experiences I am referring to...you're wrong. You just read my blog. None of you really know me. Not all of me.]
Posted by ray at 12:30 AM | Comments (12)
September 20, 2007
The Origin of Species
Greg calls it "The Passion of the Christ". You might as well subtitle it "So THAT's why Ray turned out so fucked up".
Control debuts in the US October 10.
Posted by ray at 11:24 AM | Comments (0)
August 30, 2007
DVD coinkidinks
We're finally back on Netflix after taking a break for a couple of years, and the first two movies out of the gate both have weirdness to them.
Terminator 2: Has anybody ever noticed that the predicted Judgement Day when the world is destroyed by nuclear war is August 29, 1997? Fucken weird.
You're Gonna Miss Me: This 2005 documentary about the life of Roky Erickson and about his younger brother Sumner's struggle to get him the psychiatric care he needs is f-ing brilliant. You get to see a lot of footage of Roky's decline while under the care of his anti-doctor mother, and then a brief glimpse of the new Roky near the end.
The weirdness is in the Epilogue special features. There is footage from Roky's re-debut at the 2005 Austin City Limits fest, and Cassidy and I are in several crowd shots. And not in a "I know I was standing right about here" kind of way, but in a "holy shit, that's me and Cass!" kind of way. We were directly in front of Roky against the front of the stage; I blogged it here.
And then the other weirdness is in the same epilogue. They show Roky getting ice cream at the Amy's on 6th Street, the same ice cream place where I ran into him in August 2005. I don't remember cameras being there that night but there is a guy visible very very briefly in the background who kinda sorta might be me.
I'll be in Austin next week, and I'm going to Amy's to get the Roky special. I'll let you know how good it is.
Posted by ray at 9:15 AM | Comments (5)
July 16, 2007
Order of the Phoenix
The best part of last night's viewing of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is that I had popcorn for dinner.
The movie was an accurate representation of the book in that it was a long and tedious something that has to be slogged through to get to the more exciting stuff in chapters 6 and 7.
I'm tired of the "everybody thinks Harry is a liar" plot device. I'm tired of random strangers wandering in off the streets every year to claim the most prestigious faculty position teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'm tired of Dumbledore stumbling through each chapter oblivious to what is going on around him.
Next time, more Tonks, please. I mean, woof!
Posted by ray at 11:12 AM | Comments (6)
April 5, 2007
Children of Men of New Orleans
While canvassing with Common Ground last month, I wandered briefly through Joseph A. Hardin Elementary in the Lower 9th Ward. It was a sad and lonely place, untouched since the storm.
Then last week, while watching Children of Men for the second time, I was reminded of it when the protagonist and his cohorts are sheltering in an abandoned school. It was a similar scene...art work on the walls from kids who are who knows where, writing on the blackboards from classes long forgotten.
What's weird is that it never occurred to me why there would be an abandoned school in the film. Everything in Children of Men has a purpose, every backdrop makes a statement. State-sponsored suicide kits, immigrant concentration camps, "foogees" and "fishes" and End-times cults...everything is exactly in its place. But it only just now occurred to me that in a future without children, all schools would be abandoned and desolate. I missed the point of it completely. It's like my mind just glossed over it, because abandoned schools are such a fact of life where I live now and so it seemed unremarkable in the movie.
Anyway, when Athenae of First Draft took a picture of the front of the Hardin school, and I mentioned to Scout that I'd been inside, she asked if I wanted to go back to take pictures and I jumped at the chance.
Scout's pictures are here.
Mine are in a flickr set here.
But here are a few samples.
These photos were all taken more 19 months after the storm. The blackboards inside still say "August 26, 2005". The school has not been touched.
And it's a school in a neighborhood which no longer has children, so maybe it's not so far off from the movie anyway.
Posted by ray at 11:46 AM | Comments (3)
March 1, 2007
Money quote
Between the ACOE lawsuit traffic jam on Leake and the Brad Pitt traffic jam on Napoleon and the roving Presidential motorcade getting in the way Uptown, not to mention all the traffic lights that are still broken since the f-ing storm, this is a good day to not drive anywhere, and just stay home and spend quality time with the dog.
And Gina says, "Gee, Ray, you've shown a real big interest in walking the dog ever since Cate Blanchett started filming down the street".
Yeah, well...
Posted by ray at 12:03 PM | Comments (2)
February 28, 2007
I'd hit it
The pooch and I went for a walk this morning down to Samuel Square park and got to see Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett filming a scene for whatever that movie is that they're filming here. It was fun seeing all the early 60's cars driving up and down Loyola St. in the background, and the little kids on the playground who must have been told "just keep going down the slide til I say 'cut'".
Afterwards Brad got his kid and got in his car and Cate went to get her hair redone. No Angelina that I could see, but having finally seen Brad from a distance of about 20 yards, I have to admit that I'd do him.
[Peeps me. It makes Charlotte happy: 25Peeps]
Posted by ray at 11:03 AM | Comments (4)
December 18, 2006
Trailer Mashup: Hitchcock/Capra
Following in the footsteps of the romantic comedy Shining and the legendary zombie flick West Side Story comes a new Christmas classic, via Adrastos: Alfred Hitchcock's It's A Wonderful Life.
Posted by ray at 11:36 PM | Comments (0)
November 22, 2006
The boy is a cynic
Watching Goblet of Fire.
Dad: "So every year, the whole school thinks that Harry is a cheat and a liar, and by the end of the year it always turns out that he's telling the truth and is battling Voldemort. Why don't they ever learn?"
Liam: "I don't know. J.K. Rowling can't think of anything else, I guess."
Posted by ray at 9:10 AM | Comments (2)
August 14, 2006
The Spike Lee Joint
I've got four tickets to the New Orleans premier of Spike Lee's documentary, When the Levees Broke, and I'm kind of torn about what to do with them.
Originally I was going to take the whole family. But now Gina is out of town on business, and so it would just be me and the two kids, and I'm starting to wonder if this is a good thing to take the youngest to see. He's nine, and it's only rated a modest TVPG, but the more I think about it, the more I think that it's TVPG for some random kid in Ohio who has never been to New Orleans, doesn't know anybody here, and whose only reaction would be "whoa, look at the wrecked houses!" and "wow, that lady sure cusses a lot!"
What would the effect be on a nine-year-old boy who is so far adjusting to life pretty well in his new home? Would I be doing harm, subjecting him to four hours of The Passion of the Crescent City, when I know he sees those debris piles and empty houses and search team X's on so many houses in his own neighborhood? Would he think of the movie every time his parents started talking about the latest tropical depression in the Atlantic?
I want him to understand what happened here. But there is such a thing as too much reality for a kid that age, and although thousands of kids his age have suffered a whole hell of a lot in the past year, there's no point in inflicting worry on him needlessly just because I'm a big fan of Spike Lee.
But if he can't go, and I don't have a sitter, then I can't go and my teenage daughter can't go. In which case I should just give these tickets away to somebody who can go.
Or am I making a big deal out of nothing?
What to do, what to do...
Posted by ray at 1:37 PM | Comments (5)
July 18, 2006
When the Levees Broke: A Spike Lee Film
Spike Lee will be present at the world premier of his HBO documentary When the Levees Broke, at the New Orleans Arena, Wednesday, August 16, at 07:30 PM.
Free tickets are available from Ticketmaster.
The show premiers on HBO on August 30.
Posted by ray at 10:50 AM | Comments (4)
July 3, 2006
A Scanner Darkly
I just saw a preview for A Scanner Darkly on Comedy Central, and one of the review tags said "Linklater's funniest film in years!"
I beg your pardon?
It's been years since I read the book, and yeah, all of Dick's stories have a sort of wry cynical humor to them, but they're more edgy than hyukster funny. Did Linklater or somebody else with the purse strings need to dumb this down and tart it up for a modern idiot audience? The original work explored complicated ideas about consciousness and awareness and reality vs. perception, and this was supposed to be the film that would finally faithfully represent Dick's vision on the screen. It'll really break my heart if we end up with Total Recall on rotoscope.
My books are packed, but I'm going to have to go buy another copy and reread it before I see the film, just to firmly replant the book in my brain like I did with War of the Worlds.
The book is always better. Always.
Posted by ray at 11:29 PM | Comments (9)
January 10, 2006
And there was much rejoicing
Scarlett Johansson doesn’t believe in monogamy.
Posted by ray at 6:50 AM | Comments (4)
October 9, 2005
Corpse Bride
The songs were tedious.
The corpse bride was a hundred times hotter than that mousy, vacuous little live bride.
And for them to tease us with the obvious threesome setup for twenty minutes and then not deliver is just unconscionable.
And that is all I have to say about that.
Posted by ray at 4:40 PM | Comments (3)
October 3, 2005
Polite conversation means death!
Yesterday was apparently Father/Daughter Tripout Movie Day, as evidenced by both Karl and I each coincidentally taking our oldest to see Mirrormask, the new Gaiman/McKean/Henson movie. (Minor spoilers ahead, if you can call them that.)
It is a stunningly beautiful film. The whole time Cassidy was talking to herself, alternating between "this is so weird" and "this is so cool". Thematically very similar to Labyrinth...teenage girl has growing-up conflicts with her parents, ends up in a dreamlike fantasy world that looks a lot like her real-world passions, meets a quirky but helpful character who becomes her guide and friend, goes on a long quest meeting many strange and wondrous creatures, battles an evil monarch, and eventually comes back to the real world with her family issues resolved.
Mirrormask is much more adult in appearance than Labyrinth, however. I've been out of the comics thing for a long time, but the style looked very familiar to me, so a little googling jogged my memory. Neil Gaiman and David McKean created Black Orchid, which I read a little of many years ago, and McKean's been compared to Bill Sienkiewicz, the author of Stray Toasters, which I absolutely loved.
Cass was also hip enough to notice that it looked a lot like Coraline...figures my daughter actually started reading Gaiman before I did.
And much as I would like to say this is a wondrous, stupendous cinematic event...it's actually kind of boring in spots. It's so beautiful to look at that it's almost self-conciously beautiful, like a gorgeous woman who thinks that all she has to do is sit there and look pretty to keep my attention. There's a lot of "look what we can do" footage...seemingly included just "because we can" rather than because it advanced the plot or filled out the characters.
Stilll, you definitely need to see it. I predict it will drop pretty quickly from sight...it's only playing in one theatre in Austin, the Dobie, and that was only one-third full at the showing last night, so I doubt more than a few hundred people have seen it locally. But I predict cult-film status for it in the coming years.
And as for the National Goth Month predictions...maybe the gothlings don't come on Sunday nights, because the predominant stereotype at the Dobie last night was Unix hippy.
Posted by ray at 1:36 PM | Comments (3)
September 28, 2005
Gaiman and Whedon
It's National Goth Month, according to this great interview with Neil Gaiman and Joss Whedon.
Mirrormask looks awfully cool.
And now that they mention it, I do feel a lot like a dolphin lately.
(Thanks Merrick.)
Posted by ray at 11:47 AM | Comments (4)
September 19, 2005
How I Spent Talk Like a Pirate Day
"You must swear, legally swear that you will not kill that shark, or whatever it is, if it exists."
"I'm going to find it, but I'll let it live. What about my dynamite?"
I can't believe that once in my life I actually thought Bill Murray was a Chevy Chase wannabe.
In celebration of Talk Like A Pirate day, we all sat down to watch The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou, since it has, like, actual pirates in it. Although they're all Filipino and carry machine guns, so not a lot of arrrrrr.
This movie is indescribably awkward and charming and funny and sad. Almost reminds me of Boogie Nights, in the way it portrays a grouchy but loving father-figure running a dicey business venture with a bunch of eccentric strays who he treats like family. Including a guy whose main activity consists of sitting in the background singing old Bowie songs, in French, with an acoustic guitar. Bowie does for this film what Kevin Shields did for Lost in Translation. Bowie is good.
I am now suddenly consumed with the desire to rent every single movie Bill Murray has ever made.
This was the second R-rated movie for each of the kids...Cass has seen Lost in Translation and loved it, and since when I first watched this one the other night it seemed obvious the R was mostly for the rare naked boobies and liberal cussing, we figured it was OK for her to watch. Liam just kind of tagged along because there was popcorn, but after we figured out that he was totally bored with the movie and only hanging around for the novelty of all the unbleeped F-bombs, I yanked him out and took him upstairs to watch some baseball.
The Astros were playing....
...wait for it....
the Pirates.
A complete day.
Posted by ray at 9:07 PM | Comments (6)
July 20, 2005
Wonkavision
"Whipped cream isn't whipped cream at all unless it's been whipped with whips. Everyone knows that."
I went into the new Charlie and the Chocolate Factory movie with a mix of excitement and skepticism. Skepticism because, well, I almost always hate remakes. Excitement because I thought (before I saw the previews) that maybe they were going to make something a little more true to the books than the Gene Wilder one.
Well, surprise on both counts. OK, I confess, I remember almost nothing about the books, but I'm pretty sure that lots of the new movie wasn't in them. But it didn't matter. This movie rocks.
Gone are the 45 minutes or so of sappy songs that precede the entry to the chocolate factory, the parts that everbody fast-forwards through. (Admit it, you know you do.) Gone is the simpering little blonde-haired wuss version of Charlie Bucket. And gone are the grotesque orange-painted oompa loompas.
I don't want to give too much away, so I won't, but the oompa loompas are perfect. The Salt family, the Beauregard family, the Gloop family, are all perfect. The Wonkavision homage to 2001 is brilliant. And the chocolate factory is as wondrous as you'd expect given that CGI has replaced all of the teetering styrofoam sets from 1971.
Depp's Wonka takes some getting used to...a psychologically-damaged, socially-inept, foppish recluse instead of Gene Wilder's smooth wise-cracker.
But the more I think about this movie compared to the old, the more I realize that the only thing the old movie had going for it was Gene Wilder. Take him away and it's a sappy, weak, grade-B musical. The new film is more of a complete package.
And Doxy, you need to get it just for the scene in the first ten minutes with the chocolate palace in India. You'll have to change your panties afterwards, but, well, most things that are worth it have a similar price.
We saw it at the Alamo Drafthouse, and when I saw the menu special I couldn't resist. The Violet's Gum Special: tomato soup, roast beef with baked potato, and blueberry pie. Plus a glass of fizzy lifting liquid...sadly, I had to get the kid-friendly one instead of the champagne drink and I only got two rather lackadaisical burps out of it.
But better than the alternative. We tend to yell "Fart, Charlie, fart! It's your only hope!" when we watch the old one at the house. We're like that around here.
(And no, I did not turn violet, Violet.)
Posted by ray at 7:51 PM | Comments (0)