Saturday, December 27, 2008


So I was being a dick to my ex-roommate via the Facebook wall of his friend and was drawn into a discussion of what movies are "timeless," their definition of timeless being something that people will still watch in fifty years.

This just seems pointless to me. There are movies that I seek out and watch that were made over fifty years ago. 40s detective shit that rocks (because nobody can disarm Peter Lorre quite like Humphrey Bogart). I may only watch Murder, My Sweet once, and then send the netflix back, but that's a movie I enjoyed that is more than fifty years old - so let's say some kid in fifty years gets really into old George Clooney movies and ends up watching The Perfect Storm or Batman & Robin or some other non-"timeless" shit. That doesn't make a shitty movie like The Perfect Storm timeless. And that kid would probably really like Confessions of a Dangerous Mind. One time. People are always going to watch movies. Not everybody will watch the older movies, but people like me, who are really, really into it, will.

Maybe the point is a movie that I myself would still be watching in fifty years even though I'll have already been watching it for fifty years. Well, in fifty years, I'll be seventy years old. I'll probably be willing to watch whatever the fuck my grandkids put in front of me as long as i have applesauce and a clean diaper.

While we're at it, where is the line drawn for a movie that's almost timeless, but doesn't quite make it? Is it a bad supporting performance? One redundant scene too many? Shit, what about "timeless" movies that get old after fifty-one years? It's pretty bizarre criteria for a movie to meet, and when you think about it, nothing in any art form really is "timeless" because human opinion is too much of a variable. Movies that people still watch in fifty years are the movies that got lucky.

I guess I'm just saying that I think whether a movie is "timeless" or not is completely irrelevant to any possible situation. Nobody's ever going to base their sunday night Blockbuster Video decision on which movie is "timeless." They're just going to pick whichever one their girlfriend feels like watching and hope she'll feel like sex that night after the movie. Timeless is a hyperbolic word that critics use to get their point across and get their names on movie posters and DVD covers. Who even cares?

That said, Robocop is totally timeless.

Mark my words.

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

the story of my holiday party. special edition.

i originally posted this a few days ago (sunday night i think), but then i removed it because i was nervous people would read stuff about themselves and be mad. this entry goes into more detail than would ever be necessary. however, i've decided: "fuck it". as a bonus, i've taken the time to include something i always originally wanted in this post, but didn't have the money for the first time around: more cgi dewbacks in the background searching for c3po and r2d2. enjoy.

so i got home last week sometime around midnight. andy holt is the yin to my bro-yang so he picked me up from the bus stop instead of my parents so that i could just drink like crazy and spend the night on his couch downtown instead of going home. the first thing he asked me when i jumped in his car was "hey, dude, wanna have a holiday party at my place?" yes, i did. "saturday or sunday?" megan wall, in the backseat, says "sunday! i want to hang out sunday!"

Megan, please, we're not in our late forties. saturday. then more girls will come.

An aside about Andy - sometime last week he asked me for relationship advice regarding his long distance girlfriend, Orchid, who is based in california. he was supposed to go visit her for a week starting friday, had the week off work, all was set, but he just wasn't really feeling it. what should he do? i told him if he cashed in his plane ticket we could spend a week in madison getting drunk every night with absolutely no responsibilities. "but it's totally your call." he cashed in his ticket and broke up with the girl.

that night we get all drunk and andy makes the facebook event, declaring the hosts as "Andy and Alex." He has two roommates. I am apparently hosting a party at their place. It's cool, though, because we invited them. thank god they didnt get out of line or else i'd have had to kick them out.

the next night Andy and I drink even more and both black out. My loving sister bought a glass boot filled with god knows what kind of beer and we all take turns chugging it.

I literally blinked mid-chug and when I opened my eyes it was the next morning and i am on my sister's couch. her roommate christine brings me water and turns on a dvd marathon of Are You Afraid of the Dark for me. i love christine.

i am able to retrace my night via receipts found in my pocket. all of my money is gone. i have receipts from two different food places and several bars. i only had two dollars last night. that's strange. bored with my sister and her roommates being hung over and asleep i get up and walk to the apartment next door where blake, chris, and billy live. billy has a final to go to. me, blake, and chris get drunk on Steel Reserve and watch a combination of Totally Awesome and until blake's bus to minnesota removes him from our care for the duration of the holidays.

i don't talk to andy until that night when my sister calls me and tells me that she heard through the grapevine Orchid just showed up in Madison at Andy's apartment. Fuck, I wanted a single best friend while I was home. I call Andy five times to no avail. An hour later he calls back without saying hello, just letting me listen in on the conversation that reveals Orchid's sleeping on the couch. The next day, Andy doesn't answer his phone when I call him. Ever. David calls me and tells me he called one of Andy's roommates, and the roommate says the party's still happening.

For some bizarre reason, this flared up anger in me. This is my party, god dammit, not yours, roommate. I'm not even naming you because I don't want to link to a picture of you. Burn in hell. Just kidding, Jon Fok (but not really.)

Saturday. Game day. After my family (and by "my family" i mean kelly (my twin sister), chris (by the way he's her boyfriend), minyong, megan, david, and my dad) finishes taking in a celebratory holiday viewing of Die Hard, Andy picks David and I up to go buy liquor and then go to his party. Already in our festive christmas sweaters (David's had "NOW I HAVE A MACHINE GUN HO-HO-HO" written on it, which slayed me) we merrily skip down the aisles at the Woodman's Liquor Department with a shopping cart and buy every possible holiday-themed drink we can. I spend a lot of money. Fuck it, I'm hosting this party. My reputation's on the line.

We arrive at Andy's. I immediately put in my DVD that is an endless loop of a roaring fireplace. We drink. People don't show up for a while (save for the six that are already there). I get worried because on one of my previous nights in a drunken stupor I invited literally every possible awkward high school random person in madison I could, and nobody is even showing up.

An hour passes. John Boyer bets me that I can't go the night without yelling at anybody. I angrily agree to this bet, wanting to prove him wrong. Fifteen minutes later, I lose. Zog had turned off my fireplace DVD so that he could see the score of the football game.

Suddenly, in three separate but very close together waves, every Madison random shows up. And I'm already near-blackout drunk. The kind of drunk where I no longer have a filter on my mouth, so all of my speech is stream-of-consciousness. This is terrible because I have an encyclopaedic memory, especially for people. I'm the guy who remembers that girl showed up to high school one day with one red eye because somebody ejaculated into it over the weekend. I'm the guy who remembers that one time that dude was a total dick to me in the hallway. I have to say what took the cringe prize, though, was me talking to a girl I totally had a crush on in sixth grade (but never spoke to) about how I remember that she really, really likes Nirvana. Didn't get that phone number, no.

I also loudly referred to Orchid as "Andy's psycho ex from California that just showed up here in Madison unexpectedly" to everybody that asked who she was. In earshot of Orchid. Whoops. She was always really nice to me, too. Sorry.

I drink more and more. Soon I am just carrying around a bottle of Pumpkin Spice Schnapps and drinking from it straight while berating everybody I can. I don't remember what I said or did to my high school prom date but nothing i say or do to her has ever been positive since that fateful night so that can't have been good. Here there is at least a two-hour chunk of the night where I remember maybe one or two visual snapshots and nothing else. Another wave of guests arrive, all female and attractive. And I only already know one of them. Jackpot.

Unfortunately, that Alex Jacobs luck kicks in, and right around here, Ross pulled the building's fire alarm because he thought it would be funny. Madison's finest arrive. We evacuate the building while the firefighters do a search. I compliment the paint job on their truck. Vibrant red.

This ends the party right then and there, because who the hell wants to stick around during a fire alarm? Jamie Custer gives me a ride home and tells me he'll stop at Taco Bell. I only have four dollars, though, Jamie! "It's cool. I'll cover you this time." That's not what you tell me when I'm that drunk at the Taco Bell drive-through. I lean over Jamie and order around thirty dollars of terrible food. Jamie pays. I gorge. Jamie also does not stop me from drunk dialing pretty much every girl in my phone book, which, in retrospect, may have been his way of getting back at me for abusing his generosity like Tina Turner. While I remember talking to Allison Williams and it being generally positive, I did get a phone call from Katharine Kou this morning asking why I left her a voicemail threatening to punch her in the stomach. Hard.

My call log also tells me that I spoke with or left voicemails to Lindsay Porter (57 seconds), my sister (30 seconds), Rachel Maffitt (8 minutes 50 seconds), and Liz Cagle (4 minutes 0 seconds). I also sent Rachel Maffitt a text message at 2:37 am that just reads "Sweet, sweet boobs." She actually finds this funny. I'm a pretty creepy motherfucker.

This morning it took me two hours after waking up to make it out of my room and go eat breakfast. I then spent most of the day wrapped in a blanket and playing Gears of War 2 co-op with my brother. My phone rings a lot but I answer it for only a select few because my head really hurts and I didn't want to make my brother pause the game. Also, it really fucking rocked. There was a level where we seriously were inside of this giant worm and had to chainsaw all of its arteries so that it would die. There was blood everywhere. Our characters bathed in it.

Then he reveals that he set the drums up again in our basement. My dad jokes that we should get the Jacobs Family Band back together.

Within half an hour we're all downstairs. Our cover of Weezer's "Say It Ain't So" degenerates into my brother wailing on the guitar while I beat the drums like they owe me money and my dad calmly plays bass sitting down (because that song is boring without this stuff). This everybody-solo lasts a good five minutes. When we're done my dad gives me a list of songs to learn. I haven't played drums in at least three years so just this happening is enough in my day for me to do nothing else. I stay in and somehow convince my family (including my mom, who wanted to watch a movie with "no violence") that a good family movie for the night is Last Action Hero. Two hours later I'm happy as a pig in shit (even though the kid in that movie totally sucks.)

At 1:58 am, I get this text message from Andy:
"we need to talk soon. shit got more weird tonight. fuck. fuck fuck fuck."