Wednesday, August 28, 2013

No, fuck it...

Because everybody should see me in lady clothes.

Oh yeah, spread that love on thick.

An Adieu

Greetings blog land.  I've been quiet... but so has Starspider.  This is probably going to be my last post on this blog account.  The background's tacky and I think the source code wants to shove glass in my vagina.  Don't think on that, just accept it.  I am a gay man, and I have a vagina.  A vagina full of code glass.

So, for my last post I figured why be edgy.  Why be crude, or go on about how you can totally be asking for it, or wax poetic about how Miley Cyrus was wearing pants so tight the pvc was literally touching her anus.  No, fuck that.  I'm going for something a lot simpler, a lot more... personal.  Last night my boyfriend texted me at... god three something in the morning.  He'd googled my name.  And he found... *sigh* my elfwood account.

I can assure you, there is nothing that will make your asshole clench tighter than your significant other, out of no where, saying "Look what I found" and then showing you an account you signed up for before you were old enough to get laid without it being a felony.  I turned so god damn red the room was cast in a terrified, amber glow.

This... fuck.  This was painful.  I barely recalled what I had even posted as work... but something deep, deep in my gut told me that my memory had elided elfwood intentionally.  Maybe it was the fact that I signed up for this account when I was 17... or maybe it was because the more I thought on it, the more I realized I trotally tried to delete that once.  And, I mean, sweet merciful fucking Buddha my boyfriend, he read things.  Things I had long forgotten about.  Things I may be ashamed of; things I may want to hide like a dead prostitute.

Gems like this: 
"You know what sucks, dislocating both your knees, havign (sic) a fever, and being attacked by a cat that looks like a minion from hell and not being able to bat the little thing off. I plan on writing an epic poem about that...but since I am a lazy little man, I wont. I have decided it is time to stop bashing tolkein. I am not doing this because i am a fan of his work, nor because other fans get angry with me. I do it because it is time ot bash Laurel K. Hamilton. Now, i have read all of her work. I can say, without so much as a second though that this woman needs to find a man. Why you ask? Read Narcissus in Chains, Kiss of Shadows, Caress of Twilight, and whatever book it was that came out before Narcissus in chains. Now, I, like all human beings, enjoys the occasional steamy hot raunchy Faerie/werewolf/ratkin/zombie love fest...just not an entire book about it. Ok, lets see...msot recent bio. Yes, I know, the basics. 17, male, Pagan, sophomore, not angsty (i have been this way sicne i was two, my mom says I'm satan). I have not had a girlfriend since I was 11. This would bother msot people, but not me. We have established long ago that I not only lack emotion, but any semblence of, onto the men in pink dresses and hair curlers..."


Was... was I really that bad as a kid?  I remember myself being way smarter than this.  And an epic poem?  And... Tolkien?  I hated Tolkien?  I'll give myself this point, the guy is a boring fucking read.  But, hey, younger me, settle the fuck down.  Not about Laurell K. Hamilton, though.  That bitch needs to fire her editor and then hire a real one... and then she could actually benefit from finding a good source of steady cock.  I'm not even going to take the time to correct this bubbling horse shit for grammar and spelling rules.  I'm just so deeply, deeply ashamed of myself.  This is just the opening blurb about me, too.  It's not even the part where I tried to get creative, just where I wanted to be funny.  God willing I won't find this in 2025 and think to myself how much of a dumb ass I was.

That was so bad I needed to go take a breather.  What the literal fuck?  If only I knew what I know now, perhaps back then I would have had the ability to string together a coherent sentence.  Maybe?  Possibly?  God, probably not.  I know I certainly would have choked myself to death if I met 17 year old me today.  How have I never punched in the face?  I want to hit me, and I'm me!

Then I looked at the writings, and I found something I forgot I had ever even written down.  It was... so... I can't say good.  I want to, but I can so easily see the places I drew inspiration from.  I can also see myself making the kind of mistakes amateurs make.  Mistakes like giving somebody a feminine name without ever realizing it.  All the names were Celtic, so at least I had that going for me, I guess?

The thing is, I read it.  I read the whole damn thing.  I had talent.  It was raw, admittedly, but it was talent.  My boyfriend even commented it wasn't bad when he read it.  I, naturally, want to go back and just fix the shit out of it.  Replace every fucking thee and thou with the proper ye and you, remove a few things I don't like... add a ravaging sex scene.  Good shit like that.  At least maybe make it a little easier to read past the 4th paragraph without cringing at myself.

I judged myself hard.  Really, really hard.  I cringed, I winced... then I read the single comment.  And I discovered something.  I was reading a story that I wrote when I was 11.  Fuck me running.  I already felt kind of old.  Now, after seeing something that was actually scribed down in the 90's... now I felt like this decrepit  withered old husk.  How do women in their 50's handle this?

I'm rambling now, but there is still a point here.  Delete your shit.  I don't care my boyfriend found this, but sweet Christ what will happen the day he finds my FTP porn stash?  What of the day I find it again?  I never, as a kid, thought I would look back on this shit and feel a twinge of embarrassment.  Seriously, delete your shit.  All of it.  Delete it.  And then drink till you forget. 

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Rambling... ramblings

So, it's around 3:20 in the morning and I been thinking; why is it so hard to maintain a blog? I mean, when you think about it, it's not difficult. Not really, at least. Still both starspider and I seem to have perpetual trouble remembering two, you know, update it.

This is something that's been kind of bothering me recently, so I figured I should do something about it. What I decided to do about it is learned to dictate. Dictation isn't exactly hard; I think this way I'll probably update a lot more. So this will be the first post, and maybe the last, where I am just going to speak it and let the stream of consciousness so forth.

So everybody is clear, this post is going to be a shitty movie review. The shitty movie in question is Ted. We all know how this goes; I blatantly spoil the plot for you and you guys, my devout puppet audience, sit there and take it. You take it and you like it. This review will be no different.

So, what is the plot to Ted? The plot itself is actually pretty simple and, well, shallow; the titular character, Ted, is an animate teddy bear brought to life by the power of wishes. Yeah, you read that right; wishes. The film itself stars Matt Damon as a barely functioning man baby, sort of like Will Ferrell only somehow more crass. Mila Kunis stars as his girlfriend who is, like, at least nine leagues above him, and clearly quite interested in marrying down. Oh, and the animate magical teddy bear? Yeah, that horror right there, he's Peter Griffin. It's cool too; Seth McFarland totally acknowledges that he's not that original.

I have to admit something here people, I was actually expecting this really be maybe a little funnier. Don't get me wrong, this movie was funny! Or I expecting just a funny movie that would've been fine, but I wasn't. I was expecting "the funniest movie of all time". Now I know what you're thinking, "dude, it's just review on the box seriously. Don't take this shit so seriously." Well, you know what, fuck you in the mouth.

That's really pretty minor gripe though. Truth be told I don't really have many genuine gripes This movie – I mean, yeah, it had some pretty stereotypical RomCom goals towards the end, but so did The Hangover. This is Hollywood we're talking about; everything here is formulaic and ultimately just the same old rehashed crap. We don't release to see something new, that would be frankly retarded, we see movies because fuck it we want to be entertained.

Here's the real secret to watching a movie like Ted. Are you ready for this? Yeah, you're ready for this. You have to you stoned out of your fucking mind to really get this movie. The best part is, in my humble opinion, the fact that it's not that hard to keep up with Ted the animated teddy bear. Oh, did I mention that? Yeah, so that magic wish fueled teddy bear that should not be also has a crippling drug problem. Apparently Ted, in his youth, was quite the celebrity; now that Ted's matured into a repugnant self-centered Antichrist, he's gone the route of so many child stars before him. This is around that eventually leads to hard drugs, but that's okay, because that itself as a gateway to an illustrious job selling cars. Okay, that is entirely true; Ted starts work at grocery store but the moral is ultimately the same.

What's weird though is that the movie itself tries to sneak a bull ship message in there with funny. It is a terrible job of this mind you, but it's there. I think that's what the entirety of my review really is. I don't want to spoil this movie for you, and more importantly I won't spoil it for myself. Ted is sort of like Harold and Kumar; you'll watch the movie time and time again but at the end of every screening your not quite sure if you actually watched it. Maybe that's because you're drunk, maybe it's because you're stoned, maybe it's because the movie is a steaming, heaping pile of fly struck horse shit. I can't with any real certainty say. What I can say is this; I did actually enjoy this movie. There you go that's my review.

Fuck this, I tried. Maybe it's because I have to talk so slow, I don't know, but this software that I'm using a makes it seem like kind of a burdensome process. It's not to when I really think about it. I've actually been able to talk at my normal pace and for the most part the system has never keep up with me. What's weird though is trying to compose out loud. That when I'm not such a huge fan of, but I think I'll get used to it.

So yeah. I think this will be new to the blog. I'll be doing all my post by voice from this point forward. Dictation is just way way way way way way easier, and you know if I wasn't so inebriated last time I actually watched a movie this might have been a good review. As it stands I don't think it's bad, but I guess it could be way way better.

I also feel the need to know that it is 4:09 AM, and I should probably be getting to bed. Unfortunately, Star Wars the Old Republic is still down for maintenance. This means that I can either sleep or stay away for the next three hours until it actually comes back up. I think I'd rather sleep. Yeah, sleep. That sounds totally hot.

Thursday, November 1, 2012

Crappy Movie Review: Black Dynamite

Here we are again.  It's been a while, but I'd like to think the wait makes these posts all the better.  I wanted to write one of these a week, but it is amazingly hard to find a good B movie when you've become so jaded to their... uniqueness.  I thought so, at least.  Last week I watched a movie that joins the blood sucking clown monsters on my list of favorite crappy flicks.  The movie in question is Black Dynamite.

BD is not a good movie by any stretch of the imagination.  The characters are flat, the acting is terrible, the shots are all poorly done, and the overall quality is so low it has to have had a budget of roughly $45 and a can of 4loko.  This is intentional, by the by.  BD takes all the hallmarks of a good Blaxploitation film and mocks the shit out of them.  Michael Jai White is so good as Black Dynamite (yeah, that's the lead character's name.  Stop acting so surprised) one might make the mistake of assuming he is legitimately a bad actor.

Only jive turkeys underestimate Black Dynamite!
So, plot synopsis?  Black Dynamite's brother gets killed by the mob and Black Dynamite leaves a river of blood finding his killer.  Oh, and there is malt liquor in there too.  Seriously, that's... that's basically it.  It's not deep, but again that isn't the point.  We're looking at a parody here, done by the man who played Spawn.  It is ridiculousness if the very essence of ridiculousness could be distilled down and injected into a b-list action hero like steroids into the ass of an aging Sylvester Stallone.  What comes out is greater than the sum of its parts.

Also afros wide as a midday sun.

The entire movie is action sequences, diner scenes, and weirdly fitting stock images from 40 years worth of blaxploitation.  Oh, there is also that whole malt liquor shrinks your dick so the man can keep you down angle.  For the record, I'm white, I work for a major corporation, and I am male.  So... that makes me the man... and I love big black cock... so I am not entirely certain where this weird ass rule-them-with-tiny-penises angle comes from.

Ok, now I'm rambling.  So, let's wrap this up; just go rent/pirate Black Dynamite.  Just go do it.  I can't give a synopsis that does this masterpiece justice.  I mean, I could... but not without a boat load of work and the creation of some weird ass new words.

Monday, June 4, 2012

Crappy Movie Review: Killer Klowns from Outer Space

Right off the bat I have a confession.  I love really terrible movies with a passion almost unparalleled by all but my love of weird food.  Naturally a movie about blood drinking monster space clowns (klowns?  I guess the spelling might matter in a universe specific sense) was a first choice.  I adore Killer Klowns from Outer Space in a very special way.  The titular Killer Klowns are a race of extraterrestrials who at first glance just so happen to resemble the Whiteface clown we are all familiar with.  As with all terrible low budget B-movies disbelief needs to be suspended.

The plot synopsis is actually pretty simple.  Predatory aliens land in a small town, harvest the locals, and are dispatched by a motley crew of teenagers and a cop.  The clowns wreak as much havoc as you would expect with a few ridiculous clown powers they use to capture/kill people.  As far as sci-fi horror movies go, this one doesn't stand out for its top notch characters, expert level acting, and complex plot.

What shines, you may ask?  It's by the Chiodo Brothers (Elf, Critters, and Team America are all under their belt), and they are unmatched in puppetry.  The clowns themselves are upsetting to look at.  They are a monster version of a clown with makeup more befitting skin patterns than grease paint.

"I've also got a pretty serious drinking problem..."
See that picture up there?  Sexy, right?  For such a low budget movie, though, the clowns are pretty damn good.  An interesting tidbit: a couple of the clown heads were re-purposed in Earnest Scared Stupid.  As an adult the clowns still bother me a little bit.  They look so menacing, so much like a person but just not.  They hit that special part of the uncanny valley where they look like corpses and monsters at the same time.

The characters are pretty special, too.  They are all one dimensional archetypes.  You've got a jaded elder police officer and his younger, roguish superior officer, a helpless '80s blonde, a typical every-man roped into it all, and a couple of high school dropouts cum ice cream truck drivers.  They're all acted just shy of passably but that adds to their charm.  The clowns all have their own special personalities too.  My favorite has to be the ugly bastard above.  He's the midget.  They are all acted surprisingly well.

They've also got British teeth.

There is a menace to these guys as the movie progresses too.  What we see first is a space ship they may have just had to land out of emergency.  The clowns stumble out of their ship and into the town.  They nab an old man and his dog and terrorize the main characters on their way out, but they don't yet really convey any signs of genuine malice.  As the film progresses we see a clown luring a child out of a diner.  He is the first sign that these clowns know what they are doing.  He doesn't just try and sneak up on her, but goes to the length of playing pee a boo with her through a window.

The main character eventually theorizes that these clowns come to earth every so often and harvest us as food.  In the KKfOS universe it is apparently important to note that our modern clowns were originally based on these space horrors.  At least enough so to make the leading male say exactly that.

The movie itself is a gem.  I can't give it praise based on genuine cinematic worth, but it doesn't need that.  This is a movie that was made to be just terrible.  It's funny, the characters are amusing, the clowns are terrifying and the plot is easy to follow.  If you like cheesy movies or just need something to feel up your date to you've got a perfect one right here.  The bonus is the few parts of this film, components if you will, that are genuinely upsetting.

Like this thing.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Gruit: Or, the problem with bitters

So. Corey hates bitter. I’m trying to find him a beer that he’ll enjoy so we can find a beer to make and the only things that I can find are mild ale, Gruit (flavored with not-hops) or developing some bastard brew technique that doesn’t leave the hops in long enough to make the brew bitter, but does leave the hops in long enough to sanitize.
Ugh, okay, let me explain.
As opposed to making wine or mead, beer classically has way less alcohol content. While wine classically has enough alcohol in it to “keep” indefinitely (the alcohol acts as a preservative) beer normally does not. When you smell stale, sour beer, it’s because the sugars that are leftover from the fermenting process (and what has all those delicious, empty calories) can spoil as the alcohol content isn’t high enough to keep the drink from going bad.
Enter hops. The essential oils and whatnot in the humble little hop-flower and its associated parts not only act as a flavoring agent (yum) but also as a botanical preservative. Add in the fact that the other job that this plant performs is to add a little bitter to counterbalance the sweet of the malted barley (or whatever grain) and you get a beverage which is complex and delicious on the palate.
So, let’s say you dislike hops, or (bless your poor soul) are allergic. What do you do? Well, there’s Gruit, which is beer made with the same principle as regular beer but instead of using hops, they use other botanical ingredients. There’s apparently some historical controversy involving the church but basically the facts are this: Once upon a time we got all our preservative for beer from botanicals other than hops. Sometime during the castle-and-peasant-burn-the-witch time period (Look, we’re not discussing the dark ages or the middle ages and what is what, we’re just not, okay? Let it go. It’s not going to happen.) somewhere in Germany (apparently, plz not to crucify, Mister Internet, thx) a movement came about and tadaa, we started using hops.
Lots of people these days prefer to make their homebrews with Gruit, which is all well and good! I’m totally down with that, but the problem is this: It’s not the hoppy flavor of flowers and grass and aromatics and citrus that Corey doesn’t like. It’s the bitter.
Fuck. Me.
Okay. Okay. We can do this. We can look at the math and sit down and figure out how long and in what stage to add what botanical, be it hops or fucking heather or whatever to make the beer just a little bitter. Just a little. Just enough to be clean, just enough to be sweet and light and balanced.
I am so swamped with halfassed information that I can’t begin to tell you guys where we’re going to start. So, for now, as is the truth with all beer brewing, we must start with beer drinking.
We need to get some good milk stouts and I dunno, a mild ale, or just say “fuck it” and do us up something he can’t possibly bitch about and devote some serious time to making a lambic. HAHA. IT WOULD BE EASIER TO MAKE FRUIT WINE BUT NO. NO.
Corey has the palate of a seven year old. And hey, he’s a lot of people. Lots of folks can’t take the bitter and honestly it’s something you have to let grow on you. An acquired taste.
But for the love of God, if he can come to terms with the nasty ass cheese he’s always buying (Look, cheese shouldn’t be runny and smell like something died in something else’s butt, okay?) and trying to foist on me he can come to term with something complicatedly simple and bitterly delicious.
Or, you, my dear readers, are going to be treated to a lot, lot, lot more swearing as time goes on.
Anyway, cats and kittens. Until then I shall get back to trudging through the muck and trying to find a resolution to this conundrum.

Sunday, January 1, 2012


I mean, it’s been a while, right?

It’s been a long while since I’ve really sat down and posted and I really wanted to let you guys know what’s been going on. House Blarg/House Quiet Chaos has split up some, and right now it’s just myself, Corey and Geoff living the life in a tiny little apartment a stone’s throw from my office. The bad news is the walls are thin and I hate apartment living. The good news? Why, I’m Dana’s neighbor!


Swing by and say hi to Dana. She loves new posters. In case you guys don’t know, Dana’s this lovely writer and fantastic blogger (and drinker of that vile substance, tah-kill-ya) whom I happen to have the dear honor and joy of living near and working with. Her blog is chock full of geological fangirldom ramblings, excellent music choices, and atheist, free-thinking kickassery. She’s a partner in crime and an all-around good time. Maybe someday we’ll get her over to do one of the podcasts—which reminds me….

The podcasts are coming back. I promise. They’ll be a little less shout-y, and maybe a little more write-y, on account of being in an apartment complex but with one as huge as the one we just moved into, you never know who you’re going to bump into at the mailbox.

It’s been a long, hard, unpleasant year in some respects, but an adventure in others. I have to remind myself that my life is filled with beautiful wonderful people, and that where I live is paradise. Is it an even trade off for some temporary discomfort? I have photographic evidence.

And here it is.

But for those of you who don’t believe in following links, here’s a sample:

173 (Medium)

161 (Medium)



002 (3) (Medium)

027 (Medium)

049 (Medium)

043 (Medium)

065 (2) (Medium)


Just a little taste. Too many beautiful things to show in one simple post. I just wanted to say thank you all. It’s been a beautiful, educational year. Painful, terrifying, upsetting, but in the end, I am stronger for it.

All my love,