Things I could do Without

I consider myself somewhat knowledgeable when it comes to pop culture, literature, and movies and a lot of people know realize that about me, whether or not it's true. Because of this, I can sometimes be consider a nerd or a geek or whatever -- apparently things like knowing all the lines to STAR TREK II carry a stigma. Go figure.

Anyway, because of these things combined and my own pursuit of my own interests, I often find myself face to face with little portions of pop culture or nerdiness that people assume I'd care about, but really I could do without. So here's a list.

ANIME

There was a time, back in high school, where I tried to get into Anime. Back before the Internet got super awesome, it was hard to get your hands on good Japanese Animation unless you confined yourself to the handful of popular flicks the video store might have or were willing to pay top price at Suncoast. So, I saw a couple of the ones everyone claims are great (they were okay) and soon realized each of them had ten million derivative sequels with increasingly dumb names that I couldn't keep track of and I gave up. The exception to this is the Miyazaki stuff, which is mostly aimed at kids, so it doesn't have all the creepy stuff in it that makes me feel weird. I mean, the Miyazaki flicks ARE creepy, but they don't make me feel weird. Now thanks to the Internet, this crap is everywhere. They even made a big budget Hollywood flick out of SPEED RACER (which no one saw).

MARTIAL ARTS FLICKS

I know I'm supposed to be into martial arts movies, but they're kinda like porn as far as I'm concerned -- you've seen one, you've seen 'em all. None of them have any plot to speak of, so unless you REALLY like the star of the movie or you REALLY like watching the fight scenes, there's no reason to watch. Look, I like ENTER THE DRAGON as much as the next guy but let's be honest -- even that flick you have to take with a grain of salt and it's the best one ever made. Right? I know, I know, all these new ones are supposed to be super amazing with their wire fu and all that crap but I tried to watch a couple of the ones that came out in the wake of CROUCHING TIGER and guess what -- all the same. No thanks.

ANYTHING ASIAN (except food, Akira Kurosawa and Ozu)

At the risk of sounding like an asshole (too late!), why not just admit it -- I can do without Asia. I'm sure the continent is full of great people but I can't get into their entertainment. I don't really like big rubber monsters, I don't like Anime, I don't like martial arts, I don't like weirdo porn, and I don't like non-martial arts Asian action flicks where dudes fire two guns at once. Again, there was a time back in high school where I tried to like John Woo, and sure, THE KILLER and HARD BOILED are pretty cool, but what has he done for me lately other than ruin Hollywood? Nothing, that's what. Oh, RED CLIFF, you say? Get back to me when there isn't a million different versions of it for me to keep track of and then maybe I'll watch it. But probably not. Oh, and give me a break with your "horror" movies, too, please.

LUC BESSON

Speaking of ruining Hollywood. I can do without this guy. Early on nerds were supposed to like him because of THE PROFESSIONAL. All right, again, I was suckered in on that one back in high school. But you know what THE PROFESSIONAL and a bunch of other nerd stuff has in common? Sexualizing young girls. I mean, watch THE PROFESSIONAL today and TRY not to get creeped out by Natalie Portman. She's great and all, but I think there's some nerd wish fulfillment going on here (and in Anime) stemming from the general nerd inability to get chicks, and therefore presenting sexuality as something you can take advantage of because it doesn't know any better. But that's just a minor complaint, pun intended -- Besson went on to make. . .

THE FIFTH ELEMENT

. . . which I can also do without. Holy Christ. What a loud, obnoxious mess. And everyone loves it for some reason. Not me. After that he went on to do a bunch of increasingly insane action movies, defined by how implausible the action sequences got and how many guns the heroes could hold simultaneously. Okay, two, but still. I've had enough of guys holding two guns. Oh, that reminds me, I can also do without

MOVIES WHERE CHARACTERS ARE JADED, CYNICAL PROFESSIONAL KILLERS WHO ACT LIKE MURDERING PEOPLE ISN'T A BIG DEAL EVEN THOUGH THEY'RE SUPER-NATURALLY GOOD AT IT

The one exception is Tarantino flicks -- he does it the best, so he gets a pass. Everyone else can go screw. I know before I even see these movies that I'm not going to like them, and sometimes I get tricked into going anyway, just in case. Anyway, I think these appeal to nerds, too, for wish fulfillment purposes -- they want to be the best at everything, and these flicks are about people who are not only the best at everything, but don't even care that they're the best at everything. Here's a trick -- if a movie has to tell you how cool it is, you know it has already failed at being cool. If white guys in their twenties swear it's the best movie ever made (BOONDOCK SAINTS), run the other direction.

VIDEO GAMES

I mean, what are video games these does other than a giant amalgamation of everything I've listed above? They're all trying to be too cool, make the players think they're experts at stuff they know nothing about (warfare, survival, etc), feature mindless cynical killing and violence, martial arts, and they're all made in Japan (kinda). Also what's the deal with making systems hard to get and pricey? All it does is make me not want one anymore. There was a time I wanted a Wii. They were impossible to get, so now I don't want one, out of spite.

ONLINE VIDEO GAMES

Even worse. Nowadays, you have to get online and play video games with strangers. And grown men do this. Grown men with wives and kids. Maybe I'm behind the times, but if I was a chick and I was looking at marrying a guy and he was obsessed with WORLD OF WAR CRAFT, I would head for the hills. To me, that's a giant red flag. You don't need that shit. There's plenty of perfectly great guys who don't know shit about video games. Why marry a dude who's going to sit on the couch or office chair all day (or night) playing let's pretend? Speaking of which. . .

ROLE PLAYING

I've never been into it. Never played DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS or any of that other stuff. A little too obsessive for me. I can hardly play Texas Hold 'Em without getting confused, I don't need dice with more than six sides or giant graphs with lots of numbers and stuff. I'm too dumb and slow and easily confused to be into that stuff. Which reminds me. . .

POKER ON TV

Thanks to the geniuses who ran out of shit to show on sports channels and turned to poker for programming, everyone thinks they're a pro. Ten years ago you never heard anyone talking about Texas Hold 'Em. Now everyone talks about the river and the flop and all that bullshit. Once again, people acting like they're experts on things they barely understand. Or maybe I'm projecting. Maybe just because I don't understand it doesn't mean other people can't. Maybe that's worse.

U2

Everyone loves U2. Not me. I think U2 is okay. Normally that'd be fine, except whenever I tell someone who asks that I think U2 is okay, they misinterpret me and go, "You HATE U2? How can you HATE U2? Hey, everyone, look at this douche over here, thinks he's too good for U2." No, thinking something is okay is different from hating it. Look, I just don't love U2 the way everyone else does, all right? Maybe if all their songs were as good as "All I want is You" I'd change my tune but until then they're just okay.

THE DAVE MATTHEWS BAND

I don't know how I missed out on this one. Seems like everyone my age and background LOVES this band. Even my own sister LOVES this band. Where was I? Again, I don't dislike them or anything, it's just kind of beyond me -- I couldn't name any of their albums, have never really found myself sitting around and listening to them. I somehow just missed it. Kind of like how I missed

THE CHICKEN DANCE

Somehow everyone knows and loves the chicken dance and busts it out at weddings and shit. Where was I when everyone learned this thing? And why does everyone like it? It's annoying and stupid.

I'm getting a little off base here. My premise was pop culture and nerdy stuff you'd think I like that I actually don't like. Now somehow I'm talking about the Chicken Dance of all things. All right, let's reign it in a little. How about. . .

TRON

In your face. I never saw it all the way through as a kid and I don't care that there's a sequel now. There. I said it.

THE DARK CRYSTAL and LABYRINTH

I thought both were boring and never want to watch them again.

SHORT CIRCUIT

Guess what? When you're not 7 years old, it sucks.

WATCHMEN

I never read it and I'm never going to. And it's not a graphic novel, it's a COMIC BOOK.

BELIEVING ALL SOURCE MATERIAL IS ALWAYS BETTER THAN WHATEVER ELSE IS BASED ON IT

That's for the birds. Come on, the novel JAWS is nowhere near the classic the movie is. And that's only one example.

BELIEVING DARKER IS ALWAYS BETTER

Every time a sequel or remake or whatever comes out, nerds wet themselves gushing about how "dark" this interpretation is going to be, or how "dark" the original source material was and how it'll only be done right if it's done "dark" and how it better be rated R or else and blah, blah, blah. Enough.

RANKIN BASS HOLIDAY SPECIALS

Come on! These things are tacky, loud, obnoxious, and ugly. The only one even halfway good is RUDOLPH, and it's still tough to watch as an adult. I firmly believe most adults who claim to love these haven't watched them within the last 2 decades.

HATING KEANU REEVES, KEVIN COSTNER and TOM CRUISE

They're not that bad, and you love a bunch of their movies. Admit it -- it's not in SPITE of them. It's BECAUSE of them. Man, I could write an entire book about this one.

AYN RAND

Look, I'm sure she's the deepest philosopher who ever lived and everything but I'm never going to read any of her books so you can stop telling me how amazing she is. When a movie like DIRTY DANCING illustrates what a douche a character is by showing that he's into THE FOUNTAINHEAD, I cross it off my list of shit to read.

Anyway, there's a lot more where that came from. But I'm off topic again. Rand's not really a nerd thing. This is getting too negative. I started writing this to hopefully feel better and now I think I feel worse. What's some stuff I love?

Westerns, The Who, my iPhone, Star Trek, Steven Spielberg, Ed Wood, Charles Bukowski, my record player, Bettie Page, my recliner, the Laurelhurst, steak, beer, stand up comedy, podcasts. . .

And there are dicks out there like me who could do without all that stuff.

Okay, I feel better.

I Know Why the Porn Star Sings

Growing up, I had no older brother so I grew up without many things, chiefly among them R-rated action and horror flicks and pornographic magazines. I never even found porn among my parents' stuff. I was aware of stuff like PLAYBOY, and I remember asking one time what could possibly be in a PLAYBOY that's simultaneously so great, so forbidden and so accepted by society.

My mom couldn't answer, so instead she said to my dad, "Can we just get him a PLAYBOY and show him?"

"No," my dad said.

Linda Hamilton's boobs were probably the first ones I saw when I was old enough to know I was seeing something sexy. I'm sure I'd seen nudity before THE TERMINATOR, but it never really mattered until then. In retrospect the sex scene in TERMINATOR is more romantic than it is sexy, and only lasts about thirty seconds (if that). Still, when I was 12 (or whatever) it was pretty amazing. Now, if I'd had an older brother, chances are I would have seen TERMINATOR 100 times already by the time I was 12. But, I didn't.

I did have an older sister, though. That meant VICTORIA'S SECRET catalogues and lots of fashion magazines like COSMOPOLITAN and VOGUE were around the house. Back in the mid-90s, before the Internet got super awesome, that was enough for me -- a provocative Kate Moss ad here, a lingerie spread featuring Laetitia Casta there.

One time my mom caught me reading COSMO and, catching a glimpse of the smutty ads in the back of the magazine I was staring at, asked, "Is that a girly magazine?"

I had never heard the term before and had to think for a moment. COSMO was definitely girly. So I shrugged.

"Yeah," I admitted.

There was also cable. Of course, my family didn't have cable, and even if we did have cable, we wouldn't have had any premium channels, which meant -- no boobs. But, I did have a friend who had cable, and before I'd go spend the night at his place on a Friday or Saturday I'd check the TV guide to see what was playing that night. The back of the TV Guide had a listing of every movie and why it was rated whatever it was rated -- so you could tell the R-rated flicks WITH boobs from the R-rated flicks WITHOUT boobs. Before I even went over to my friend's house, I had an entire map of what I'd be watching that night. He always fell asleep first and the dirty movies didn't come on until late, so no one was the wiser.

This way, I ended up seeing low-rent cable flicks like THE OTHER WOMAN and BIKINI SUMMER 2 as well was recycled 80s teen comedies like SPRING BREAK. But the best of all was BLOWN AWAY. Not to be confused with the main stream action flick starring Jeff Bridges and Tommy Lee Jones. No, no. This was BLOWN AWAY starring Corey Haim, Corey Feldman and. . . Nicole Eggert.

I knew Nicole Eggert from BAYWATCH, the other porn substitute besides chick magazines that I was able to see in my non-cable household. She was the younger, more girl-next-door version of Pamela Anderson, even though she was still way too hot to actually live next door to anyone. Still, she got totally naked and had simulated sex scenes in BLOWN AWAY, which, to my young teenage mind, was the best thing ever.

Later, I went through a phase of attempting to rent every video in the comedy section of the video store with the word "Hot" in the title that came out in the 1980s and was rated R. I figured all of these would feature boobs. The 1980s were a glorious decade when boobs were allowed in mainstream films. These days, good luck finding boobs in a mainstream flick outside of the arthouse.

So, I saw shitty movies like HOTS, HOT SUMMER, HOT MOVES, HOT DOG and HOT RESORT, which had the extra benefit of starring pre-fame Bronson Pinchot. Almost all of these were about a group of four dudes trying to get laid during some kind of vacation. There was usually a hot dude with no scruples, a good looking dude with a heart of gold, a total nerd, and a fat dude. The main character was always the good looking dude with the heart of gold, and all the guys usually got really close to getting laid only to face horrible embarrassment or injury. Eventually, one or all of them would get laid. Along the way, you'd get a few boobs here and there, if you were lucky. AMERICAN PIE went back to this formula in the late 90s but left out the fat dude and dared to have (relatively) three dimensional female characters.

At this age I was also into movies for artistic reasons. That was convenient, because it meant I could rent otherwise seemingly harmless foreign flicks, classics and cult films that were all more free-wheeling with nudity than your average multiplex fare. This way I saw everything from the worst of the worst that made me ashamed to be human (I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE) to the best of the best that made me proud to be same (BELLE DE JOUR), all in the name of boobs. Well, not ALL. I mean, I was legitimately into flicks.

It was interesting the seemingly harmless places you could find T&A if you were desperate and obsessed enough. For instance, around this age I became obsessed with 50s pin-up queen Bettie Page (pictured above -- isn't she lovely?) who was having a resurgence in popularity. This had the benefit of seeming innocent, since she was antiquated and from a bygone era. That meant you could easily see naked pictures of her, because everyone these days pretends naked chicks didn't exist back in the 50s. I could have a pin-up of Bettie Page in my locker at school and it would look harmless, then go home and look at totally nude pictures of her in totally legit books for film nerds. Meanwhile it would have seemed suspicious if I was suddenly into Anna Nicole Smith.

Speaking of Anna Nicole Smith, when I was in Junior High a (kind of) buddy of mine stole her PLAYBOY video from the video store and let me borrow it. I call him a kind of buddy because I never really hung out with him outside of school, and met him for the first time in 3rd grade when he held his cast against my throat and stole my Chips Ahoys. For some reason, though, he respected me after stealing my Chips Ahoys, and became kind of a loyal follower. I guess it was kind of like a prison thing -- he stole my Chips Ahoys, I didn't rat him out. Respect.

Anyway, I took the Anna Nicole Smith video home and feigned illness while my entire family went to Izzy's to feast, popped the tape into the VCR and checked it out. It was the most female nudity I'd seen since TERMINATOR, but it was as alien to me as it was hot -- for instance, thanks to the giant (and artificially enhanced) boobs of Anna Nicole, veins were more prominent than my imagination had previously allowed. It was simultaneously more fantasy than I'd ever seen and more reality than I'd ever seen. Since it was a PLAYBOY video, there wasn't any actual sex and only a tiny bit of simulated sex, and focused a lot on where the girls were from and what they liked to do in their spare time. I didn't really get it.

I wanted to give it right back to the dude who stole it in the first place, to wash my hands of it, but I remember him rejecting my attempts. He didn't want it on him, either. I don't remember what ended up happening to it, but I only had it for a week or so.

Where was I? Oh yeah. High school. In high school, about a year before I actually turned 18, I started getting real bona-fide porn from various sources. One was a buddy of mine (a real buddy this time) who wasn't afraid to yank stuff off of magazine racks. That's how I got my first PENTHOUSE, and my first couple PLAYBOYS. I realized at this time that porn had many faces. There was innocent stuff, just featuring the sheer joy of naked ladies. Then, there was more prurient stuff, that seemed to appeal to more sinister impulses including violence, misogyny and perversion. Unfortunately, a lot of times, all this stuff would be in one single magazine. Or, if not, there would at least be graphic ads for this stuff throughout.

I would hide the porn and then wonder what my mom (or anyone else) would think of me if they found it. I knew what I liked and what I didn't like -- the pages I lingered on, and the ones I skipped over. But, to outside prying eyes, they'd just see this magazine full of terrible stuff and assume I was into every single page no matter what, and I'd look like a monster. That was the problem with porn when it was contraband -- there was no quality control. You took what you could get, and the people who produced it and sold it knew that. It's what they call a "vice" product. They know you're going to pick it up one way or the other so the actual contents don't really even matter, as long as they can sell it to you. So, you had to take the good with the bad.

Quick example: PENTHOUSE went through a phase where they were really into chicks peeing. I, however, did NOT go through a phase where I was really into chicks peeing. Still, in every pictorial (or at least once in one pictorial per issue) there had to be a chick peeing in at least one shot. I don't know who made this editorial decision or why, but there it was. Now Bob Guccione's dead, so we may never know the truth.

Around this same time, I was also able to have friends older than me buy the stuff for me. Sometimes even chicks bought it for me. My favorite place to get it was the Greyhound Station, which was nothing more than a convenience store that the bus happened to stop at, because they had the stuff on a rack that was NOT behind the counter, so you could kind of look through it and didn't have to ask for it. Just plop it on the counter. Everywhere else in town you'd have to be like, "Uh, could I have that one? No, not that one, THAT one," while the clerk rolled his or her eyes at you and I couldn't blame them.

One time a chick bought me a copy of CLUB INTERNATIONAL and a copy of something tamer -- I can't remember what, off the top of my head. Either a PLAYBOY or PENTHOUSE, I guess. Anyway, she was looking curiously through the magazines and commenting on the artistic merits of them.

She was disgusted with the CLUB INTERNATIONAL but thought the other one, whether it was PLAYBOY or PENTHOUSE, was more acceptable.

"See, I don't understand what's so great about this one, I mean, it's just big close up shots of this chick's privates," she observed. "But this one, at least there's some good photography and it's interesting to look at."

What she didn't know was that I didn't really care. You don't buy a magazine like CLUB INTERNATIONAL because of its artistic merits, you buy it because it's refreshingly, unabashedly and unreservedly true to what it is -- naked chicks. Naked, naked chicks. Brightly lit, super naked chicks. No imagination required.

Soon after that I turned 18 and was old enough to buy porn, which is one of the first things I did. My friends took me to see LASER FLOYD around midnight, and on our ride home we stopped by the adult video store I'd seen a thousand times on the side of the road growing up. Most of them weren't old enough to go in, so they loitered outside while me and a buddy went in to check things out.

First thing's first: brand new porn is expensive! I didn't have $40 or more to throw away on a VHS tape of dubious quality. So, I went straight to the used wall and found a flick called DESIRE FOR SEX for $19 (or something). Again, quality control was out the window. I wouldn't know until I got home if I had bought a lemon, but hey, half the fun and novelty was in buying it, anyway. And, I guess, I could have tried it out in one of the booths, except 1) I never quite understood how those booths work and 2) that's the most disgusting thing ever.

DESIRE FOR SEX turned out to be a quaint little story driven affair starring Asian-American beauty Stephanie Swift. At the time, she was an up and comer. Since then she's had a double mastectomy. No, she didn't have implants. Anyway, the flick was about a sex therapist and her porn producing husband. They start the day out by having sex, then each go to work. Before the sex therapist can get to work, her secretary shows up, impersonates her, and has lesbian sex with a patient. The sex therapist fires the secretary, then has sex with her next patient, who is having trouble getting it up. The fired secretary goes to try out for a porn flick and guess what? It's being directed by the sex therapist's husband. Anyway, they have sex. Then, the erectile dysfunction patient goes home and has sex his girlfriend (or wife, whatever) who happened to be the chick who says, "Is there any coke at this party?" in BOOGIE NIGHTS before overdosing. The end.

Later, in college, I'd see more porn -- compilation tapes with all kinds of starlets from the 80s and 90s. The interesting thing about being penniless and watching porn is you ended up being about 5 years behind the times, no matter what. So, the chicks you considered current stars might be out of the industry or all washed up at the actual time you were watching them. The current ones, you'd never heard of. It was kind of comforting to know that, no matter how much porn I saw, I was never up to date on whatever was new. I was always behind. That meant I could pat myself on the back and assure myself I wasn't too far gone. Only the real perverts were up to date. Not normal guys like me.

Right?

The older I got, the more mainstream porn became. I guess on one hand this is kind of to be expected. After all, the older you get, the more accessible it is. Once you're past the age of 18, you can go into any adult shop or strip club you want, or rent whatever video you want at the mom and pop video store. Still, it seemed to get more mainstream even outside of all that. Regular cable seemed to have more T&A on it, quasi-celebrities Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian used sex tapes to help become household names and pursue otherwise non-porn-affiliated careers, even video games got more and more risque.

The only entertainment sector that seemed to get more uptight was my favorite one, movies -- despite what conservative watch dogs would have you believe. Trust me, as a student of cinema, I can assure you, nudity and graphic sexual situations are far less common these days in mainstream flicks, even R-rated ones. Used to be, every R-rated action flick or comedy guaranteed you at least one set of boobs. These days the only boobs in EXPENDABLES belong to Sylvester Stallone, and even Sly wouldn't take off his top in RAMBO IV.

I guess part of this is thanks to the Internet. My first Internet porn experience was before the Internet was really good for porn, in a friend's basement. We sat and watched pictures download for what seemed like hours. Maybe it was hours. That was the olden days. We'd click on a picture, then go off to do something else while it downloaded. Check back in a while, it'd be half done. It was so suspenseful -- the pictures would invariably start downloading from the top to the bottom, so you always had to wait in suspense to see the interesting parts, almost in the order you'd get in real life -- first the chick's face, then slowly the boobs would be unveiled, and FINALLY you'd get her pants off.

That same basement also housed a book that was a treasure trove for my young imagination -- a big red picture book called, simply, THE BOOK OF SEX. Or was it THE SEX BOOK? I can't remember. It was like one of those books adults in the 70s got for themselves so they could feel all enlightened and edgy. It was a pseudo-educational book -- a kind of dictionary of slang and non slang sex terms, with big black and white photos to illustrate. It worked as porn insofar as the pictures were very graphic -- unabashed shots of genitals and boobs and couples in the middle of knocking boots. The book had plausible deniability, though, because all the pictures were in black and white and basically depicted normal-looking people instead of porn stars or models, and gave about as much attention to male anatomy as it did to female.

Still, when you're in your early teens and the hottest thing you can get your hands on is the SPORTS ILLUSTRATED SWIMSUIT EDITION, the big red book of sex was pretty awesome. But it was also frightening. As much as I wanted to see naked chicks in sexual situations, I didn't particularly want to read antiquated text about out-of-date slang terms, let alone imagine the circumstances under which this book found its way into my friend's house via his parents. Shudder.

These days you can watch full porn movies via streaming video for free at the click of a button. People have been saying for the last decade and a half, or so, that porn is readily available on the Internet and all that stuff, but I don't believe it was really that big of a deal until streaming video was perfected. Basically, as soon as YOUTUBE took off around 2005 or so, that was it for Internet porn -- the thing that had always kept me at arms length was basically the same thing that had always kept me away from adult shops in general, which was, the act of actually paying for and owning porn. As soon as streaming porn became available, there was no reason to download anything, pay for anything, or own anything. It was basically as easy as turning on your TV and checking out whatever was on, except, again, you didn't have to subscribe to anything. It was just there!

So, suddenly, quality control didn't matter anymore. You could peruse as much as you wanted, totally free, and if you stumbled across something good, bonus! If not, no harm no foul. And there's nothing for you to leave behind to falsely incriminate you of being a worse pervert than you actual are. Of course, the only thing you have to waste is time, which, I guess, is at least as valuable if not more so than money.

Here's the thing, though. Given unlimited access to porn any time I want it, I have learned that the selfish search for the perfect piece of pornography is never-ending. It really is like "chasing the dragon" as a heroin addict would say. Back in the day, when I was forced to watch late night HBO, I'd think, "This is what I'm stuck with." Later, PENTHOUSE in hand, I'd flip the pages looking for the best pictorial and never find it. Now, given infinity, I've still never found the One Porn to beat all porn.

The lesson? There's no such thing! It all sucks. Sure, some is relatively better than others, and of course everyone has their own likes and dislikes. But nothing will ever be as good (or bad) as whatever it is you're looking for. In fact, sometimes I'm envious of my younger self, who could be satisfied with the clothed chicks in VICTORIA'S SECRET or a short scene in TERMINATOR, or especially back when I had a love affair with Bettie Page -- partly because I didn't know any better but also because of the fantastic promise of something better down the line.

I guess maybe I'd rather live in a world with unforeseen potential possibilities than a world with infinite access to definite limits.

Or, maybe it's just that I'm not a virgin anymore.

Either way, high five!

There's Nobody Holmes

"Some famous people come to the dance studio I work at," my friend said.

"Like who?" I asked.

My friend named a few names that didn't interest me and then ended with, "Katie Holmes."

About halfway through high school I fell in love with Katie Holmes. She played Joey Potter, the hottest chick on DAWSON'S CREEK. I loved it when she rolled her eyes and smiled her half smile and wore really short shorts to show off her kick ass legs. I'd often think Dawson was a tool for not being into her and being into Michelle Williams, instead. I mean, Michelle Williams is great and all, but she's no Katie Holmes.

This was before she married Tom Cruise, and I gotta say, I never quite understood what the big deal was about the Oprah / couch-jumping thing. I could kinda see where Cruise was coming from, because if Katie Holmes had ever married me I imagine I would have probably done something way stupider than that. Like pissing my pants, for instance. Or crying.

"You work the front desk, don't you?" I asked.

"Yes," my friend said.

"Then you have access to everyone's contact information?" I asked.

"Yeah," my friend said.

"Then you could get me Katie Holmes' phone number?" I asked.

"Maybe," my friend said. "I guess. I don't know if I should."

"Yeah," I said. "You're probably right."

Later that night, when I got home, there was a voice mail waiting for me, and it was my friend leaving a message.

"I got the number," she said. Then, she reeled it off. I nearly pissed my pants. Then I nearly cried.

I wrote it down. I couldn't believe it. I woke up that morning just my normal self. A few short hours later I was in possession of Katie Holmes' telephone number. I sat in my room alone and stared at the scrap of paper with the number on it. Then I stared at the phone. Then I stared at the number some more.

"What do I do?" I wondered. Let's examine:

1) It's annoying to call anyone out of the blue and bother them, let alone a celebrity.

2) It might not even be her number.

3) Even if I get her on the phone, what am I going to say to her?

4) Are there any legal issues here? I mean, is this stalking? What's the deal?

I mulled these questions over in my mind and pondered them in my heart. What Uncle Ben told Peter Parker in SPIDER-MAN was true: With great power comes great responsibility. Sure, I had the number. Now what? Decisions, decisions. Do I use my powers for good or evil?

Then, of course, there was the fantasy world of possibilities the phone number represented. Maybe it was Katie Holmes' number, or maybe it wasn't. If I never called, I'd never find out. If I never found out, I could always walk around believing I might have Katie Holmes' number and I could potentially call her any time I felt like it, whether it was actually her number or not. What was better -- a fantasy world of possibilities, or the truth?

I finally decided there was no way I could possess Katie Holmes' number and NOT call her. I knew even if it was her there was no chance anything cool was going to happen. I figured, I'd just call, see if it was her, make some excuse, and back out of the call. Or, if I got her machine, leave a message and see if she called me back.

So, I dialed. The phone rang.

And rang.

And rang.

Suddenly, it picked up! My heart stopped.

"Hello. . .," a voice said.

It was an answering machine. I breathed a sigh of relief. The best of both worlds -- I called, but I don't have to deal with any actual humans. I can simply confirm whether or not it's Katie Holmes' number and call it good.

". . . you've reached the DAWSON'S CREEK production offices. . .," the voice continued.

I hung up. So, Katie Holmes, realizing the girls who work behind the counter at the dance place would give her number out to their pervy friends with questionable motives, had left the number for the DAWSON'S CREEK production offices.

Well played, Katie Holmes.

Mirror, mirror

There's an alternate universe out there that consists of stuff I almost wrote on this blog and then decided not to for whatever reason. I'm reminded of this fact every time I go to edit a post I've just written. A big list of posts comes up and it includes the ones I started but never published, and in some cases never finished. They're always things I totally forgot about.

Anyway, here's a list of things I almost wrote about but then didn't:

1.) My love of Jim Henson, George Lucas and Steven Spielberg as a kid -- three white dudes with beards.

2.) How I always thought Duckie from PRETTY IN PINK was a homosexual individual, so it surprised me there was an alternate ending where he hooked up with Molly Ringwald.

3.) How much I loved getting my wisdom teeth out, thanks to drugs.

4.) More small talk at the u-scan, this time about the check out clerk getting dumped by his girlfriend.

5.) More stuff about JON & KATE PLUS 8, this time about how I saw a promo where Kate harshly scolded her kids for using the word "paparazzi" (really, Kate?).

6.) The making of the (never finished) VIVA EL DIABLO POLLO trilogy

7.) People (including me) mistaking other bands for Nirvana

As I read these over, I kind of love all of them. I wonder why I didn't hit "publish post"? Oh well.

Your love is like playing spit with a new deck on a hardwood floor

The last release from The Charming Fixtures was a little bit of a disappointment. After years of rumors about the epic double concept album that would some day be released, we got a small selection of mostly previously released (via bootleg) material on an EP called "Moon Base Outpost 300."

This was a lackluster follow up to The Charming Fixtures' original burst onto the scene with the insane (and genius) concept album "Claw Foot Bath Tub" about an alternate universe in which Rod Serling became an interior decorator to the stars, including both George Reeves and Adam West with Bettie Page making an appearance as a pizza delivery girl.

Now The Charming Fixtures have bounced back with an amazing new album that will forever change the face of music, a "concept love story" sonically evoking the pain, nostalgia and excitement of young love. The first Charming Fixtures album recalled "Pet Sounds" with the sheer amount of musicians on the record who weren't actually in the band. This new album evokes "Pet Sounds" in every other way possible.

Accomplished actor, art department assistant, cinematographer, boom operator and author Ryan Gorman guests on most vocals and almost every instrument, with the exception of drums. Drums by The Charming Fixtures.

The track listing is as follows:

Your Love is like playing Spit with a New Deck on a Hardwood Floor

a concept love story by The Charming Fixtures

Side A

1.) Song for the girl who kept a secret from herself part I

2.) Your hair gets in my kiss

3.) The ending writes itself

4.) You're the only one like you I think I've ever met

5.) Maybe I'm your mistake

6.) Like scrambled cable porn at 2:00 am

7.) Your love is like playing spit with a new deck on a hardwood floor

Side B

1.) It's not what my neighbors can hear

2.) Portland is holding onto fall

3.) Rain falls like plucks on a harp

4.) Play in someone else's yard

5.) You (thousands of miles from anything you call home)

6.) Song for the girl who kept a secret from herself part II