RUB YOU THE RIGHT WAY

12 Sep

 

1. Contagion/Warner                                    Wknd/$  23.1            Total/$  23.1

 2. The Help/Touchstone                              Wknd/$    8.7            Total/$137.1

 3. Warrior/Lions                                            Wknd/$    5.6            Total/$   5.6

 4. The Debt/Focus                                         Wknd/$    4.9            Total/$  22.0

 5. Colombiana/TriStar                                  Wknd/$    4.0            Total/$  29.8

 6. Rise of the Planet of the Apes/Fox         Wknd/$    3.9            Total/$167.8

 7. Shark Night 3D/Relativity                        Wknd/$    3.5            Total/$  14.8

 8. Apollo 18/Weinstein                                  Wknd/$    2.9            Total/$  15.0

 9. Our Idiot Brother                                        Wknd/$    2.8            Total/$   21.4

10. Spy Kids 4/Dimension                              Wknd/$    2.5            Total/$  34.2

 

THEY SHOULD HAVE TOLD PEOPLE SHE DIED IN HER LAST MOVIE TOO

Contagion opens at number one and if I’d known it was going to knock The Help from the number one slot, I’d have gotten my ass up to see it.  But I’m only interested in virus movies when they’re more science fiction based. Not that I want zombies or anything, but The Andromeda Strain is one of my favorite science fiction movies ever.  But they knew what they had to do in order to get butts in the seats: show Gwyneth Paltrow dying.  Let’s not kid ourselves that this didn’t account for at least half the audience who probably walked out once that scene was over.  Nice to see she and Matt Damon remained friends post Ben Affleck and Winona Ryder.

 

SHOOTIN’ OUT THE WALLS OF HEARTACHE

Opening at number three is Warrior and I didn’t see this for two reasons: 1) I’m obligated to see it with one of the legions of women who love Thomas Hardy and apparently that he’s openly bisexual only makes him hotter to them, and 2) could give a shit about MMA.  Sorry, but I’m old school martial arts and I look down on it the same way boxers look do as the choice of guys who don’t have what it takes to be either great boxers or great martial artists.  Yeah, it’s closer to “real” fighting but real fighting usually is just two guys rolling around on a bar floor which is dull.  Ironically it’s rules and regulations that make something a sport.  Because of them they require a discipline in their execution that makes them difficult and those who excel in them exceptional.  You can’t tackle people in baseball, trip them in track and even football draw limits on the sheer violence you’re allowed to inflict. This is how it remains a contest of skill.  Not a lot of skill in two guys rolling around on the ground doing whatever the fuck they want. Yeah, they could kick my ass, but it wouldn’t very interesting to watch nor would it be particularly skillful.

 

CHOSEN BY GOD BUT NOT BY US

The Debt drops to number four and do you think if this were a film made by and starring actual Israelis anyone would see it?  Of course not. We need Brits with Hebrew accents to care!

 

NOT EVERYONE CAN BE ANTONIO BANDERAS

Colombiana actually rises to number five and I can’t for life of me imagine why. It’s a bad movie, period.  Even for stupid action revenge movies.  The final climatic fight looks more like a really, mean tango than a struggle to the death.  The actor in question, Jordi Molla, who is apparently a big star in Spain must only do Hollywood movies when he needs quick cash, because they never do anything for him, be it this turd, the bad guy in Bad Boys II or the whimpering King of Spain in Elizabeth: The Golden Age.  Can’t imagine the latter went over well back home—unless the Spanish are more honest about how douchey most of their royalty really were.

 

BIG BOOTAY! BIG BOOTAY!

Rise of the Planet of the Apes is down to number six and also in this is Jonathan Lithgow I’d actually see this movie if I thought for one second he’d use the expression “monkey boy” with a heavy Italian accent.  And clearly he was right when he said whose planet it was.

 

ANYONE CAN SING, HONEY. TIME TO USE YOUR OTHER “GIFTS”

Shark Night 3D is down to number seven and if you don’t think the director is aware he’s making a piece of shit, know that he wanted to call this “Untitled 3D Shark Movie.” If only he could convey that same wit in his work.  On the upside you get to see that big boobed girl from American Idol a few years back die. On the downside, she fails to get topless beforehand.

 

HERE THERE BE SPOILERS

Okay, I don’t do the scary and I hate these nausea inducing  “lost footage” movies but I was curious and I went to moviespoilers.com to find out just what the “monster” was in Apollo 18 (down to number eight) and it’s moon rock space spiders.  No I’m not kidding.  It’s killer moon spiders that disguise themselves as moon rocks.  Yes, you are dumber just for reading that.

 

THE END

Our Idiot Brother is down to number nine, followed by Spy Kids: All The Time In The World at number ten.

 

COME ON AND TOUCH ME, BABE/CAN’T YOU SEE THAT I AM NOT AFRIAD

So a few years ago my sister gave me a $50 gift card for a spa treatment and I sat it next to the unused $100 gift card for Bliss Spa because you know what a spa gift card for “x” amount gets you?  The opportunity to spend “x” more for anything substantial.  It’s a trap, my brutha.  Also as a control freak I’m not down on letting other people massage me.  Ironically, I’ve been doing it since high school to others…and by others I mean “women.”  Women who won’t normally let you near them have no problem stripping down and oiling up for a massage.  (especially dancers, thank you Zeus).  It’s not always a guaranteed success, but it seriously increases your chances.  But this never translated into me letting them reciproctate.  No matter what, my control freak nature kicked in and on the rare chance I let someone try (it’s very difficult saying “No” to a half-naked girl who wants to rub on you) all I could think was “You’re doing it wrong.” (except for one dude in college, but we’re not going to talk about that).  Unfortunately pain and vanity can overcome most anything so when what I thought was cramp in my back from July soon revealed itself as a muscle strain of some sort, something had to be done and taking it easy to just let it heal wasn’t working.  I’M OLD you see and the body just doesn’t repair itself the way it once did.  Not to mention I suddenly had craving for little powdered donuts so, not only am I inactive, but also I’m eating tons of shit.  In no time I popped on five pounds and this so disturbed me I dabbled in the greatest evil known to man: I ran as it’s one of the few exercises that don’t place a strain on my back.  So if I’m desperate enough to run, is it really worse than letting strangers touch me?  It was a spafinder.com card, so I did a quick internet search of nearby spas, which actually fill the stress-heavy midtown area.  Of course the one half a block from my house that I have walked by for years closed literally just last week.  This sent me up to 59th Street where they seemingly line up from 9th Avenue on over to the east side.  I checked out a few reviews and finally settled on Faina, which turned out to be in the same building as my insurance-covered doctor whom I’ve of course not contacted about an injury to my body.  Like most things in NYC, a typical non-descript office building can contain another world, be it an senses-staggering nightclub or a whorehouse.  In this case it was a soothing oasis against the world.  It was what you’d expect.  Attractive, young, accented woman at the front desk in a waiting area which was lightly incensed with a calming, new-agey-Asian-sounding music playing—though in this case it was the ill-advised soundtrack from Kill Bill, so while others may find it calming I could only see Uma Thurman and Lucy Liu about to hack each other to pieces.  My appointment was for 6:00 and while I arrived early, I still had to wait for someone to become free.  It turned out to be a slim, 5-foot Indian girl named Jenny (of course) who led me into a small, dimly lit room and instructed me to undress and lay face down under the sheet after we discussed that should would not be touching me below the waist (my underwear stayed on). Yeah, my legs were killing me after following up an evil run with a 34-mile bike ride the next day, but that just wasn’t a happening. I only had half-an-hour anyway and I needed the trouble area covered thoroughly.  I had two primary concerns during the massage: 1) that I wouldn’t be able to stop mentally critiquing everything she did (I did), and 2) that at 90 pounds soaking wet she wouldn’t be able to really get in an get those muscles, which also turned out to be somewhat accurate.  I do think I need either a dude or a large woman from Eastern Europe who represented her Soviet Bloc nation in the Olympics.  The upside is, thinking so much meant absolutely no unwanted erections.  It was anything but a sensual pleasure for me, thus continuing the trend of my life bein unfit for porn.  That said, it wasn’t an altogether unpleasant experience and I felt better leaving than I had all week.  Just in time too because aside from getting fatter, my new swim jammers arrived the mail, so pain or no pain, we’re back in the pool next week as otherwise that was wasted money.  But in case this strategy goes badly (and we know it will), I still have my $100 gift card to Bliss.

 

 

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