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Obsessed

It's been about two months since Obsessed became my most anticipated movie of the year. After what seemed a lifetime of waiting, it hit the dollar theater recently. Naturally, I had to see it during its opening weekend at the lice farm. Jordan and Melissa joined me for a screening.

We missed the first fifteen or twenty minutes of the movie, but I imagine successful hunk Derek was loving life with his wife Sharon (played by Beyond) for a good portion of it. At the point we began watching, Sharon was just visiting husband at work when Lisa, the office sociopath, dropped in to discuss some generic office duty with her way handsome boss. Derek is oblivious to the tension between his wife and Lisa, but Sharon knows better: She knows that Lisa is OBSESSED. Evidently Sharon isn't too concerned, as she still lets Derek attend the company Christmas party, which for reasons unexplained is a singles mixer, no Sharons allowed.

It's at the holiday gathering that innocent office obsession becomes white-hot after-work social event obsession. No longer satisfied with simply spying on Derek (by means of her massive Bluetooth earpiece), Lisa uses the warm Christmas spirit as an excuse to sneak up on her boss at the urinal, tap him with a piece of mistletoe, corral him in a bathroom stall, and attempt to assault him. She's a strong woman and she gets what she wants, but Derek's gotta wife.

I don't want to give away too many more details, because some of them are so terrific I'm considering a second viewing. All I can promise is that Derek is so embarrassed to talk about S-E-X that he avoids telling Sharon about the first and continued attempts by Lisa to have his baby, and things get very, very wild. Serious issues.

We're talkin'

GENDER

We're talkin'

RACE

We're talkin'

CLIMATIC FINAL BATTLE BETWEEN SHARON AND A BE-PANTIED LISA IN SHARON'S ATTIC




Obviously an:

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Don't worry, this blog's coma has nothing to do with:

-My tragic death
-My pregnancy
-My having better things to do

I pray those things will all come in time, but for now the world will have do deal with my laziness. With luck, this will eventually roar back to life and rip your head off, but I can't make any promises. However, I do have a sample of an All~Bran Fiber Bar and a single serving of All~Bran Fiber Drink Mix sitting on my desk. This could mean great things for fans of diarrhea and this: ~. Listen to some songs:

Compulsive Gamblers- "Your Happiness" (Nolan Strong and the Diablos cover)

YACHT- "Psychic City"

Harlem- "No True Love" (Dixie Cups cover)

Mars Real Chocolate Relief Act

I had no idea that my words on Strawberried Peanut Butter M&M's would create such a stir. I should have known better, as I learned long ago that there are three things one should never discuss in polite company: religion, politics, and artificial fruit flavoring. Chemicals parading as strawberry are only second to faux banana in the list of most volatile discussion topics, so it was only natural that opinions would be heated on these gimmick candy pieces. Throw in the talk of Transformers and it's a surprise no one has burned a cross in my front lawn. Outside of one person, those who expressed their feelings in the comments section either tried and hated these M&M's, or didn't try but imagined they would hate them. Fortunately, I have something to offer all parties: the Mars Real Chocolate Relief Act.

At some point in the last year, the Hershey's corporation decided to stop using the wax that the FDA considered chocolate in several of its candy bars in favor of wax that the FDA doesn't consider chocolate. Something about removing cocoa butter to cut costs, as far as I care to remember. This means they have to start labeling these candy bars as "chocolaty" instead of "chocolate," and as the Coke to Hershey's Pepsi, or the hungry lion to the wounded gazelle (for those of you who know your wildlife), the Mars people are attacking. And so arises the Real Chocolate Relief Act, a weekly promotion where you can sign up to receive a maximum of four coupons for Mars' chocolate, not chocolaty, candy pieces. Free. Free of charge. It's four to a household each Friday, so I signed up a couple weeks ago for these four people: Bridger Winegar, Bridgo Winegar, Richard Winegar, and Eric Winegar, and now I have the power to get four free bars or bags of pieces of my choice. This morning I signed up for four more folks, including myself, my imaginary wife, Samantha Jenkins-Winegar, my imaginary mistress Dana Teence, and someone else who Mars thinks lives in my house that I can't remember.

I have four coupons for free candy bars sailing through the air towards my house, and I haven't even exercised my first four. I have eight or more free candy bars in my future, and so can you. So if you're feeling uneasy about spending .60 cents on something you may not enjoy (who isn't?), prepare to sign up for one to four of the 250,000 coupons that Mars will be giving away each Friday until September, and then get off my case.

The link in case you weren't able to catch it earlier in the post:

http://www.realchocolate.com

Strawberried Peanut Butter M&M's

It's been over a week since my last post, and my advertisers are getting antsy. They say my audience isn't just dwindling, it's been cut in half. So, now that you and I are alone, I'd like to divulge a secret.

In 2007, I joined my father and brothers for an Independence Day viewing of Transformers. At the time I had no interest in the movie, but I figured it would be a great opportunity to spend some quality bonding time with the other males in my family without having to engage them in conversation. Little did I know, Michael Bay would be treating me to a front seat in the loose stool splash zone of modern cinema. Transformers wasn't innocent, dumb summer fun; it should have been preceded by a "CHARRED BRAIN STEMS ONLY" disclaimer. Tears filled my eyes, I gagged, my ears bled for several seconds, and to this day I have flashbacks of robot potty humor. I swore to myself that I wouldn't again be associated with the franchise until it saw a reboot featuring a young, troubled robot facing his parents' death head-on while training with a League of Shadows somewhere in the Himalayas. It was a perfectly attainable goal. Of course, the people at the Mars corporation couldn't keep from meddling in my personal affairs-- they just had to release Strawberried Peanut Butter M&M's to coincide with the release of Transformed: Revenge of the Falcon.

The rise of these limited edition candy pieces left me feeling confused. I didn't know how something became strawberried. I had no idea what connection there was between Michael Bay's latest mass rape and strawberries (or M&M's, for that matter). All I knew was that trying a new variety of M&M's was a decent excuse to betray my trust and break the promise I made to myself two years ago.

During one of the many times I spoke poorly of the original Transform! picture, I compared it to lapping diarrhea out of a urinal (The power of understatement). Naturally, I had reservations about about anything related to the series that would be entering my mouth. The gimmick of tiny chocolate PB&J sandwiches was too much excitement to resist, however, and I proceeded with the trial, in which I learned that Strawberried Peanut Butter M&M's aren't only delicious, they're a bargain. Currently, Mars is trying the recession-proof idea of selling M&M's at $4 a bag by tacking the word "premium" in the title and adding flavors to the shells. As a leading consumer guide, I can tell you that's a genuine scam, especially now that you can buy these Strawberried pieces, which are essentially the same idea at a fraction of the cost. Each morsel has a smack of strawberry built in, transforming (is this the connection I seek?!) the regular sugar-flavored shell into something a little more useful. The triple punch combo of chocolate, peanut butter, and not-nauseating strawberry is everything I'm sure the Transformé sequel wont' be: tasteful and truly unique. I think they're an:

Taken

At some point between wishing for a pony and wishing to become a pop songstress, Liam Neeson's retarded daughter hears "Beautiful Day" in a dentist office waiting room and decides to follow U2 on its European tour. Liam's uneasy, but according to his ex-wife, all the teens are doing it. Not wanting to be outshined by rich stepdad, Liam relents and daughter runs off to Paris with arms flailing like a toddler chasing bubbles. Within a few minutes of the European vacation, daughter gets snatched up by a pack of mysterious men in Shoes For Crews. It's here that Liam doesn't disguise himself as a lovable old nanny to win back his family, but instead uses his "particular set of skills" (one being the "superhuman" skill) to kill everyone. It should also be noted that a non-plot featuring a superstar chanteuse named Sheerah bookends the picture.

Thankfully someone realized how insane all of this is and did nothing to reign it in. It moves along very quickly, so instead of being pretty bad and slow, it's ridiculous and not boring. Good hotel watching or $1 rental:

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Shelley

There will be a slight interruption in service as I try to reconcile my new life as a Harlem gang member (I'll shoot anything in a pair of red shoes) with my former existence as a sweet-natured, service-oriented small town youth. I'm also in pursuit of two or three particular things to try, which will be complained about before you know it. Here are some songs:

Destroyer- "Trembling Peacock"

Free Energy- "Dream City"

Mark Sultan- "We're Sinking"