A relatively uneventful weekend for myself. I saw Dawn of the Dead with my brother last night. FOR FREE. Having friends at the theater kicks my ass. I was pretty disappointed with it, though. Maddox said that it "stomped so much ass they had to import colons just to meet the demand." Not so. It was too typical, adhering too faithfully to the "rules" of horror films.
- The arrogant/sarcastic dick must die doing something characteristic of himself, e.g. fucking others over. Which seems appropriate...in theory. But a) it's just TOO fucking typical, and b) it would make more sense for him to cling to the others for help than to attempt to run off by himself.
- The heel who makes a face turn mid-film must die doing something heroic.
- Anyone with less than ten lines must serve as zombie chow.
- The hot chick who shows her tits for seemingly no reason must die in a fucking rad way. She's just too damn fine to meet a half-ass demise.
- If a character is part of a couple (husband and wife, etc), one of them must die. Unless this union forms during the course of the film. Love may conquer a lot of things, but flesh-eating ex-mortis will RUIN IT'S SHIT.
I'm more of a traditionalist when it comes to zombies; I'm more partial to the slow-moving, uncoordinated ones. But I could excuse the fact that these dead bodies could sprint despite the absence of a heartbeat and muscle function. But the infection seemed to grant them abilities far beyond what they would have been able to possess when living. For instance, this fat bitch dies, is reanimated, and is suddenly running around like she DOESN'T eclipse Star Jones. Total bullshit.
The characters also did a lot of illogical things. I mean, c'mon, a teenage girl runs out among thousands of zombies to save a fucking dog she's known for two goddamn days? Doesn't make sense. And this other dipshit who was left to fend for himself was taking potshots and pissing away ammo on zombies that didn't pose an immediate threat. I'm glad his shit got eaten.
Anyway, as far as entertainment value goes, it was stellar. When I think about it in the context of the zombie genre, they could have done a helluva lot worse. But there were a lot of things that could have been a shitload better.
Oh, and the ending sucks my ass.
Other than this, my weekend didn't consist of much at all. I went to the gym on Saturday and talked to this chick who works there. I went to highschool with her and she was the sexual fantasy of nearly every dude then...and she still is now. Except she was dating the womanizing douche bag who everyone secretly detested. So, anyway, I'm talking to her, and the combination of just having finished working out and being nervous as hell caused small bits of foam to form in the corner of my mouth. Ya remember when Christopher Reeve was recently rendered immobile and had to eat through a tube and that white shit would gather on his lips? Yeah, that's probably pretty close to what I looked like. I was constantly wiping the corners of my mouth, trying to rid myself of the irksome little beads of bad fortune...to no avail. The conversation lasted only a few minutes and consisted of the usual bullshit smalltalk where she pretends to give a shit about me and I imagine her with my last name. Haha. Woe is me.
I start another quarter of classes tomorrow. That will certainly yield some interesting stories for future journal updates.
Check out my buddy,
spiderbait, a future Suicide Girl for sure. She's a fox.
- The arrogant/sarcastic dick must die doing something characteristic of himself, e.g. fucking others over. Which seems appropriate...in theory. But a) it's just TOO fucking typical, and b) it would make more sense for him to cling to the others for help than to attempt to run off by himself.
- The heel who makes a face turn mid-film must die doing something heroic.
- Anyone with less than ten lines must serve as zombie chow.
- The hot chick who shows her tits for seemingly no reason must die in a fucking rad way. She's just too damn fine to meet a half-ass demise.
- If a character is part of a couple (husband and wife, etc), one of them must die. Unless this union forms during the course of the film. Love may conquer a lot of things, but flesh-eating ex-mortis will RUIN IT'S SHIT.
I'm more of a traditionalist when it comes to zombies; I'm more partial to the slow-moving, uncoordinated ones. But I could excuse the fact that these dead bodies could sprint despite the absence of a heartbeat and muscle function. But the infection seemed to grant them abilities far beyond what they would have been able to possess when living. For instance, this fat bitch dies, is reanimated, and is suddenly running around like she DOESN'T eclipse Star Jones. Total bullshit.
The characters also did a lot of illogical things. I mean, c'mon, a teenage girl runs out among thousands of zombies to save a fucking dog she's known for two goddamn days? Doesn't make sense. And this other dipshit who was left to fend for himself was taking potshots and pissing away ammo on zombies that didn't pose an immediate threat. I'm glad his shit got eaten.
Anyway, as far as entertainment value goes, it was stellar. When I think about it in the context of the zombie genre, they could have done a helluva lot worse. But there were a lot of things that could have been a shitload better.
Oh, and the ending sucks my ass.
Other than this, my weekend didn't consist of much at all. I went to the gym on Saturday and talked to this chick who works there. I went to highschool with her and she was the sexual fantasy of nearly every dude then...and she still is now. Except she was dating the womanizing douche bag who everyone secretly detested. So, anyway, I'm talking to her, and the combination of just having finished working out and being nervous as hell caused small bits of foam to form in the corner of my mouth. Ya remember when Christopher Reeve was recently rendered immobile and had to eat through a tube and that white shit would gather on his lips? Yeah, that's probably pretty close to what I looked like. I was constantly wiping the corners of my mouth, trying to rid myself of the irksome little beads of bad fortune...to no avail. The conversation lasted only a few minutes and consisted of the usual bullshit smalltalk where she pretends to give a shit about me and I imagine her with my last name. Haha. Woe is me.
I start another quarter of classes tomorrow. That will certainly yield some interesting stories for future journal updates.
Check out my buddy,
spiderbait, a future Suicide Girl for sure. She's a fox.