Two installments of GuakTalk in two days?! What the deuce?!
I've been in a weird spot lately. A general feeling of blah. Maybe it was the weeks of rainy weather. Or the life of a Portland cab driver hasn't been all that profitable these last couple of months. I also suspected for a brief spell that I may be lactose intolerant.
Well, nice weather is finally here. Work is (slowly) picking up. And I'm definitely not lactose intolerant. Things are a looking a bit rose. Right now I'm doing better.
But the feeling still remains, even if it's diminished. I've had this idea, off and on now for several months, about maybe saying good bye to Portland for a bit. This urge wasn't as strong as it was this past winter, but recently it had crept back. My parents still on occasion suggest moving down with them to South Carolina to try it out. I don't think I could handle the summers there (heat and humidity are sworn enemies of The Guak), but the late fall through early spring is something else altogether. So I thought taking an extended vacation in late fall and checking it out could be a possibility. Or relocate somewhere else in New England. That way I would still be somewhat close to my friends and weather more agreeable to yours truly. But the thought of moving away to a place where I know few people, if any, terrifies me. Pook told me it wouldn't be starting over, just the beginning of a new chapter. In this case it might be a matter of semantics. Or it might not be. I don't know.
For the time being it's a moot point for I have decided to table the issue. Why? Because right now, this week, I'm okay with Portland. I may revisit this come late summer, though autumn in Maine is fucking tops.
Like many things in life, friendships ebb and flow, at least with me, and I'm sensing connections with some friends weakening. One close friend in particular and I have been drifting apart these last few months despite my efforts. About a month ago I decided to not hold on any longer. I stopped resisting change and just let go. Whatever happens happens. It bummed me out at first, but I'm okay with it now.
I have seen a few friendships wane, but I have experienced some deepen lately as well. There was someone I saw mostly a friend of a friend. This was super foolish on my part because we have a lot in common. Dorky interests. And I recently discovered we can talk for nearly two hours without a lull. This, for me, is no easy task. Good stuff. I guess there is some truth to the "when one door closes another one opens" adage.
So that's where I am in my personal life. And I'm hoping these things I had identified as the causes for my funk have been resolved in some fashion or another. At least for now. Perhaps if I combed the deep recesses of my mind I could find a few more reasons. But why dwell on shit when things are starting to look up?
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Friday, May 27, 2011
My Wednesday Night
I had been looking forward to this past Wednesday for about a month (probably even longer): the premiere bout at the Clash Of The Titans was Queen vs. David Bowie. Two of my favorites.
I had only been to one previous Clash: The Ramones vs. The Clash. The Ramones were great. The Clash...tried. I became frustrated because of these ridiculously long breaks the bands took between songs. Breaks which became longer as the night went on., prompting me to say "fuck it" and go to Ruski's. But I was informed that had been addressed and resolved (for the most part), so I was excited.
But first things first: Sofia had a rare Wednesday night off so she wanted to play some trivia at the public house. I wrangled up Pook, Scotty, and Krysta, and the five of us triviaed hard (yup, I'm making up words now). Not hard enough, however, to win the whole kit and caboodle, not even enough to place second, but we did get third place. Juuuuuust enough to score free alcohol (which we decided to save for a later date) There were three of four correct answers that Scott suggested that we didn't go with, but we were five points out of second so I don't feel so bad about that.
There was also a raffle at Boru's, and the +17 Holy Avengers ended up winning three tickets to a Neon Trees show. I'm not exactly sure any of us have any interest in attending so I might try scalping them in front of the State Theater the night of the show. I'm bad to the bone!
Trivia was done with, and it was time to head over to Port City Music Hall for some rock and roll. The line was fucking long, and we feared we wouldn't get in. We fretted needlessly: the queue was slow-moving due to an ineffectual ticketing system.
We managed to get in and had plenty of time to shoot the shit because, even though the show was scheduled to begin at 10:00 things didn't get started until 10:50. Lame. I'm getting tired of this super late starting shit.
I'm not exactly sure what the hold up was. It certainly wasn't due to the Bowie band squeezing in some extra rehearsal time. They were atrocious. Absolutely fucking awful. Every single instrument, and the vocals, were out of sync. And it's not like those guys were just some musicians that decided to team up for this one gig. They're an actual band! Shameful.
I most definitely wasn't the only one unimpressed. After the Bowie band's second song, a butchering of "Queen Bitch," people headed for the exits. I won't go so far as to say they fled in droves, but there was a bit of a mass exodus.
The singer and guitarist is something of a rock star in Portland. Or at his adoring fans, and himself, think so. I suspect he fancies himself a big fish in a small pond, but the man is more like a moderately talented musician in a relatively small city. I never understood the appeal. And I still don't. I hope after the poor showing folks will stop drinking the Kool-Aid.
The Queen band was better. After (I thought) fun quasi-punk rendition of "We Will Rock You" and a sloppy "Tie Your Mother Down" I wasn't all that impressed. But the fellers got better with each song, and they finally found their groove. The singer was Freddie Mercury enough, and the guitarist decent (though in no way comparable to my favorite astrophysicist (take that, Hawking!)). I was teased with some hot licks from my favorite Queen song, but a tiny taste was all I got. For those keeping track "Keep Yourself Alive" is the song in question.
I also ran into a woman that I had met months ago from an online dating site. We went out twice and then slept together. A few days later she told me an ex had come into her life, and she wanted to see where it might go (but I was still "great" though). Fun.
After only about an hour, I felt underwhelmed at best and nauseous at worst. My desire to eat a shotgun was growing by the minute. This is why I don't try new places. This is why I don't try new places. Luckily a couple of friends felt the same way so Sofia, Luke, and I made like bananas and split. We started for Ruski's.
Along the way I had the pleasure of urinating outside. I meant this in all sincerity because I really enjoy pissing outdoors. Coupled with a full bladder and the awesome feeling of release that ensues, the experience truly is euphoric. My favorite place ever I had to abandon years ago once it became the back entrance for an art studio for children. My conscience just won't let me empty my bladder where small kids might travel, though it's a frequent haunt of High-Steppin' Bobby so the doorway is probably getting its fair share of bodily fluids. But my second favorite place is still in play, so that is where I chose to relieve myself: under the staircase on the side of the Fire Museum. And it was as wonderful as I remembered it being.
The three of us made it to Ruski's, meeting up with Eddy and Allen, who was, simply put, shit-faced. An off-duty bartender was leaving as I entered. She gave me a long hug, and she told me she loved me. She then went to give me one of those kisses not quite on the lips but just to the side. Y'all know what I'm talking about. But I drunkenly turned my head for some reason unbeknownst to me, and the kiss was full on the lips. Oops! It was accident, I swear!
A comfortable, familiar place with good friends and ass cold Pibbers. Exactly what this guy needed to drive the memory of Clash Of The Titans out of my skull.
I had only been to one previous Clash: The Ramones vs. The Clash. The Ramones were great. The Clash...tried. I became frustrated because of these ridiculously long breaks the bands took between songs. Breaks which became longer as the night went on., prompting me to say "fuck it" and go to Ruski's. But I was informed that had been addressed and resolved (for the most part), so I was excited.
But first things first: Sofia had a rare Wednesday night off so she wanted to play some trivia at the public house. I wrangled up Pook, Scotty, and Krysta, and the five of us triviaed hard (yup, I'm making up words now). Not hard enough, however, to win the whole kit and caboodle, not even enough to place second, but we did get third place. Juuuuuust enough to score free alcohol (which we decided to save for a later date) There were three of four correct answers that Scott suggested that we didn't go with, but we were five points out of second so I don't feel so bad about that.
There was also a raffle at Boru's, and the +17 Holy Avengers ended up winning three tickets to a Neon Trees show. I'm not exactly sure any of us have any interest in attending so I might try scalping them in front of the State Theater the night of the show. I'm bad to the bone!
Trivia was done with, and it was time to head over to Port City Music Hall for some rock and roll. The line was fucking long, and we feared we wouldn't get in. We fretted needlessly: the queue was slow-moving due to an ineffectual ticketing system.
We managed to get in and had plenty of time to shoot the shit because, even though the show was scheduled to begin at 10:00 things didn't get started until 10:50. Lame. I'm getting tired of this super late starting shit.
I'm not exactly sure what the hold up was. It certainly wasn't due to the Bowie band squeezing in some extra rehearsal time. They were atrocious. Absolutely fucking awful. Every single instrument, and the vocals, were out of sync. And it's not like those guys were just some musicians that decided to team up for this one gig. They're an actual band! Shameful.
I most definitely wasn't the only one unimpressed. After the Bowie band's second song, a butchering of "Queen Bitch," people headed for the exits. I won't go so far as to say they fled in droves, but there was a bit of a mass exodus.
The singer and guitarist is something of a rock star in Portland. Or at his adoring fans, and himself, think so. I suspect he fancies himself a big fish in a small pond, but the man is more like a moderately talented musician in a relatively small city. I never understood the appeal. And I still don't. I hope after the poor showing folks will stop drinking the Kool-Aid.
The Queen band was better. After (I thought) fun quasi-punk rendition of "We Will Rock You" and a sloppy "Tie Your Mother Down" I wasn't all that impressed. But the fellers got better with each song, and they finally found their groove. The singer was Freddie Mercury enough, and the guitarist decent (though in no way comparable to my favorite astrophysicist (take that, Hawking!)). I was teased with some hot licks from my favorite Queen song, but a tiny taste was all I got. For those keeping track "Keep Yourself Alive" is the song in question.
I also ran into a woman that I had met months ago from an online dating site. We went out twice and then slept together. A few days later she told me an ex had come into her life, and she wanted to see where it might go (but I was still "great" though). Fun.
After only about an hour, I felt underwhelmed at best and nauseous at worst. My desire to eat a shotgun was growing by the minute. This is why I don't try new places. This is why I don't try new places. Luckily a couple of friends felt the same way so Sofia, Luke, and I made like bananas and split. We started for Ruski's.
Along the way I had the pleasure of urinating outside. I meant this in all sincerity because I really enjoy pissing outdoors. Coupled with a full bladder and the awesome feeling of release that ensues, the experience truly is euphoric. My favorite place ever I had to abandon years ago once it became the back entrance for an art studio for children. My conscience just won't let me empty my bladder where small kids might travel, though it's a frequent haunt of High-Steppin' Bobby so the doorway is probably getting its fair share of bodily fluids. But my second favorite place is still in play, so that is where I chose to relieve myself: under the staircase on the side of the Fire Museum. And it was as wonderful as I remembered it being.
The three of us made it to Ruski's, meeting up with Eddy and Allen, who was, simply put, shit-faced. An off-duty bartender was leaving as I entered. She gave me a long hug, and she told me she loved me. She then went to give me one of those kisses not quite on the lips but just to the side. Y'all know what I'm talking about. But I drunkenly turned my head for some reason unbeknownst to me, and the kiss was full on the lips. Oops! It was accident, I swear!
A comfortable, familiar place with good friends and ass cold Pibbers. Exactly what this guy needed to drive the memory of Clash Of The Titans out of my skull.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Bride of Taxi Bits and Pieces!
One of my favorite regular passengers was a nice old lady name Miss Alice (see Sweet Miss Alice ). She was a client of the Regional Transportation Program, so RTP would contract Elite out to drive her three times a week from Southern Maine Dialysis to her daughter's house in Scarborough. But I haven't had her in my cab for months. It's not simply a matter of me not getting the assignment: she wasn't picked up by any of Elite hacks. I wondered if she died. Alice is in her eighties with deteriorating health, going from walking on her own with no help, to walking with some assistance, and finally only being able to walk with a wheeled walker. Despite this drastic change Miss Alice never lost her sunny disposition. I made her laugh often, and I liked that. Last week I drove to 1600 Congress Street, and while waiting for a fare I saw her. She was in a wheel chair and was pushed into an RTP van equipped to aid people with certain special needs. Her omnipresent smile was gone, and, in fact, she looked downright miserable. I am glad that Miss Alice is still alive but bummed out that she quite obviously has taken a turn for the worse, and that sucks.
Speaking of regular passengers that I like, last Tuesday I picked up one of my faves. He never goes very far. His rides are always $4 or less, and always gives $6 (sometimes $10 if he's really drunk). He got in Black Betty and told me I was his favorite cabbie. Later that night I pulled up in front of Blackstones to pick up a transsexual, and he was outside with his buddies smoking. And there he proclaimed me the best cab driver in Portland, and him and his friends started hooting and hollering. It was the first time I've been such appreciation by gay men since my rendition of "Dirty Deeds (Done Dirt Cheap)" during Sucker Punch Weekend.
The Eastland Park Hotel was the site for the senior dance for the ladies of St. Joseph's College (colloquially known as "St. Joe's Hos" (or is it ho's? hoes?)). I've never seen so many drunk women in formal wear wandering the streets. And they all needed help from their dates to remain on their feet.
I was stuck behind some slow motherfucker with Kentucky plates. The license plates also had "War on Terror" printed on them. Is the state of Kentucky a hotbed for al-Qaeda activity? I thoughty I heard a rumor that Mohammed Atta, Jr. was plotting to blow up Louisville's blue grass refineries.
I was dispatched to the Days Inn to pick up someone named "Chantal." I arrived and two women of color hopped in. They talked amongst themselves, and one made a phone call identifying herself to the receiver as "Caramel." I dropped Chantal off in Bayside, and she took off running. Caramel asked if I saw what she saw, and I did: Chantal's dress was riding up as she sprinted, her plump chocolate-colored rump exposed and bouncing. Do the kids still use "badonkadonk?" If so, this lady was sporting the badonkadonkest badonkadonk I had ever seen. I then dropped Caramel off and we spoke briefly...
CARAMEL: Sorry I won't be showing you my ass.
GUAK: My loss for sure.
C: Next time I'll wear a dress for you.
G: Now we're talking!
Six guys piled into my cab the other night. Five of them wore button-down shirts that were either white or pale blue. The sixth guy bucked the trend by wearing a blue and white checkered button-down. They spoke to each other about how they all had sex with the same lucky lady, two of them having her at the same time.
Last week I got a request to pick up the widow of the Second Best Cab Driver In Portland (see Willard Whitaker May 27, 1966 - April 10, 2011 and Willie Part 2 ). I picked Jenny up at her place of employment at the Mill Creek Shopping Center and drove her to her Parkside apartment. She mentioned that Willie sometimes visit her at night and keeps her company. He stays until she tells him to go be with his daughter (who died at a young age). I don't believe in angels or ghosts or any sort of life after death, but in this instance I hope Jenny's right: I would like to think this amazing fella still lives on in some fashion.
After what seemed like forever (but was really only about a month), my Friday night regular called me looking to bring her and two of her friends to the Old Port. I love those gals. I wouldn't call them cougars per se; they're not on the prowl (or at least not all of them are), but I reckon y'all catch my drift. The ladies are reasonably well-behaved, though one did ask me if I liked tag teaming.
I had the pleasure of transporting my favorite Dutchman to the train station.
Monday night I picked up two women at the Holiday Inn By The Bay. My mission, if I chose to accept it, was to drive them to the Florence House so they could pick up some things and drop them back off at Holiday Bay. The Florence House is the location for the city's women's shelter, but it also provides transitional apartments for women that are almost ready to live on their own (or at least with less government assistance). It's in these apartments where those two broads lived. I accepted the mission, and it proved to be an interesting one...
WOMAN #1: I don't know what you're wearing, but you smell good. It's making me hot.
WOMAN #2: Yeah, you're making our twats wet. I'm so hot I'm going to unzip my sweatshirt.
W #2: Don't let her! She's wearing nothing underneath!
I didn't need her warning because for some reason I glanced over and discovered that on my own. Woman #2 was in the front seat, and I noticed her girls were in all their naked...umm...glory? It's sad, a bit depressing even, that the first pair of bare breasts I've seen in months belong to a gross quasi-homeless woman with several missing teeth.
We got to the Florence House, and after a short wait I'm driving them back to the Holiday Inn. And the stimulating conversation continued:
W #2: Do you have a wife?
GUAK: No, I don't.
W #2: Do you want a wife?
G: Heh.
W #2: Do you want to fuck a bitch?
I can be a bit slow on the uptake at times. It was then I realized these two ladies weren't just fucking with me: they wanted The Guak to be the meat in their sandwich. They were giving me their room numbers and digits. They asked me if I wanted to hang out with "wild and crazy girls that like to party."
What happened next I'm almost ashamed to admit. I say almost because I only did it for the story and what's the point of a story if you're not going to share it? I assure you it's not all that scary and gross. So we pull up to their hotel and W #2 put her hand on my cheeks and positioned my face so it's facing hers. She said "come here" and went in to kiss me. So I obliged the troll lady. It wasn't making out, just a bit of a smack on the lips. Maybe it lingered a little long. It probably did. The gals went on their way, and I went back to work.
If I get tuberculosis I know who to blame. Myself.
Speaking of regular passengers that I like, last Tuesday I picked up one of my faves. He never goes very far. His rides are always $4 or less, and always gives $6 (sometimes $10 if he's really drunk). He got in Black Betty and told me I was his favorite cabbie. Later that night I pulled up in front of Blackstones to pick up a transsexual, and he was outside with his buddies smoking. And there he proclaimed me the best cab driver in Portland, and him and his friends started hooting and hollering. It was the first time I've been such appreciation by gay men since my rendition of "Dirty Deeds (Done Dirt Cheap)" during Sucker Punch Weekend.
The Eastland Park Hotel was the site for the senior dance for the ladies of St. Joseph's College (colloquially known as "St. Joe's Hos" (or is it ho's? hoes?)). I've never seen so many drunk women in formal wear wandering the streets. And they all needed help from their dates to remain on their feet.
I was stuck behind some slow motherfucker with Kentucky plates. The license plates also had "War on Terror" printed on them. Is the state of Kentucky a hotbed for al-Qaeda activity? I thoughty I heard a rumor that Mohammed Atta, Jr. was plotting to blow up Louisville's blue grass refineries.
I was dispatched to the Days Inn to pick up someone named "Chantal." I arrived and two women of color hopped in. They talked amongst themselves, and one made a phone call identifying herself to the receiver as "Caramel." I dropped Chantal off in Bayside, and she took off running. Caramel asked if I saw what she saw, and I did: Chantal's dress was riding up as she sprinted, her plump chocolate-colored rump exposed and bouncing. Do the kids still use "badonkadonk?" If so, this lady was sporting the badonkadonkest badonkadonk I had ever seen. I then dropped Caramel off and we spoke briefly...
CARAMEL: Sorry I won't be showing you my ass.
GUAK: My loss for sure.
C: Next time I'll wear a dress for you.
G: Now we're talking!
Six guys piled into my cab the other night. Five of them wore button-down shirts that were either white or pale blue. The sixth guy bucked the trend by wearing a blue and white checkered button-down. They spoke to each other about how they all had sex with the same lucky lady, two of them having her at the same time.
Last week I got a request to pick up the widow of the Second Best Cab Driver In Portland (see Willard Whitaker May 27, 1966 - April 10, 2011 and Willie Part 2 ). I picked Jenny up at her place of employment at the Mill Creek Shopping Center and drove her to her Parkside apartment. She mentioned that Willie sometimes visit her at night and keeps her company. He stays until she tells him to go be with his daughter (who died at a young age). I don't believe in angels or ghosts or any sort of life after death, but in this instance I hope Jenny's right: I would like to think this amazing fella still lives on in some fashion.
After what seemed like forever (but was really only about a month), my Friday night regular called me looking to bring her and two of her friends to the Old Port. I love those gals. I wouldn't call them cougars per se; they're not on the prowl (or at least not all of them are), but I reckon y'all catch my drift. The ladies are reasonably well-behaved, though one did ask me if I liked tag teaming.
I had the pleasure of transporting my favorite Dutchman to the train station.
Monday night I picked up two women at the Holiday Inn By The Bay. My mission, if I chose to accept it, was to drive them to the Florence House so they could pick up some things and drop them back off at Holiday Bay. The Florence House is the location for the city's women's shelter, but it also provides transitional apartments for women that are almost ready to live on their own (or at least with less government assistance). It's in these apartments where those two broads lived. I accepted the mission, and it proved to be an interesting one...
WOMAN #1: I don't know what you're wearing, but you smell good. It's making me hot.
WOMAN #2: Yeah, you're making our twats wet. I'm so hot I'm going to unzip my sweatshirt.
W #2: Don't let her! She's wearing nothing underneath!
I didn't need her warning because for some reason I glanced over and discovered that on my own. Woman #2 was in the front seat, and I noticed her girls were in all their naked...umm...glory? It's sad, a bit depressing even, that the first pair of bare breasts I've seen in months belong to a gross quasi-homeless woman with several missing teeth.
We got to the Florence House, and after a short wait I'm driving them back to the Holiday Inn. And the stimulating conversation continued:
W #2: Do you have a wife?
GUAK: No, I don't.
W #2: Do you want a wife?
G: Heh.
W #2: Do you want to fuck a bitch?
I can be a bit slow on the uptake at times. It was then I realized these two ladies weren't just fucking with me: they wanted The Guak to be the meat in their sandwich. They were giving me their room numbers and digits. They asked me if I wanted to hang out with "wild and crazy girls that like to party."
What happened next I'm almost ashamed to admit. I say almost because I only did it for the story and what's the point of a story if you're not going to share it? I assure you it's not all that scary and gross. So we pull up to their hotel and W #2 put her hand on my cheeks and positioned my face so it's facing hers. She said "come here" and went in to kiss me. So I obliged the troll lady. It wasn't making out, just a bit of a smack on the lips. Maybe it lingered a little long. It probably did. The gals went on their way, and I went back to work.
If I get tuberculosis I know who to blame. Myself.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Thor! Huh, good god! What is he good for? Absolutely nothing?
Mad Wagon had amassed quite a stockpile of CineMagic (CineMagic: where movies and magic come together!). I think he scored them from his work. The passes each have a value of $7.50. Not good enough to get an evening show for free but worth just enough for a matinee.
I snatched three of 'em and took two of my friends to see Thor this past Saturday afternoon. I thought we would get there in time to snag some good seats. It was only playing on one screen at the Westbrook multiplex. This I found odd, but I figured a big blockbuster like this would be shown in one of the big-ass theaters. Y'know, one with a 56' screen. But I was wrong. Smaller theater. Smaller screen. What the hell was playing that the brain trust at CineMagic HQ thought would bring in more of a crowd? The Angry Birds movie? The film adaptation of Atlas Shrugged (no joke!)? The only thing I can think of is Fast Five. So we get in there with about five minutes to spare, and the place is packed. The only spot where we could find three empty seats together was the very front row, a mere 10' or so from the screen. But our options were limited. Other than my neck getting more fucked up than it normally is. I made do.
In my oh-so-humble opinion I give Thor a decisive "meh." A lot of the ho-hum feeling I got I accredit to Natalie Portman. I really don't get her appeal.. She's pretty enough I suppose, but I have never really been impressed with her. I liked her in The Professional (when she was thirteen), and she didn't bother me in Your Highness, but that's about it (though I admit I haven't seen Black Swan). I think of those scenes between her and Hayden Christensen in those StarWars prequels, and my brain hurts. A lot. She continued her lack of chemistry with her male co-stars with Thor. I admit I'm not completely familiar with the Thor solo comics (my knowledge of him comes mostly from The Avengers) so I don't know if her character was created specifically for the film. If she was, fuck you, J. Michael Straczynski. I tire of studios adding love interests to movies for no real reason.
Now I must warn you before you go further, gentle reader. While I contend I reveal no spoilers, some may state that I come dangerously close.
Here are some things I did like about it:
- The actors who portrayed Thor and Loki were decent.
- The special effects were solid, particularly the stuff involving Bi-Frost, the rainbow bridge. The effects certainly weren't mind-blowing, but they were cool to look at.
- It's always a good thing when Stringer Bell and Titus Pullo get acting gigs.
- I enjoyed the "Dr. Donald Blake" references.
- Though he's pretty fucking close to being a talentless hack, I enjoyed Stan Lee's cameo. As lame as he is I always like Stan's cameo appearances.
- The comic relief of quasi-sidekick Darcy, played by Kat Dennings, made me chuckle a few times.
- The presence of Thor's mom, Frigga, was minimal and frankly served no purpose. This is good because I do not care for Rene Russo.
- Kenneth Branagh given a shit load of money to make a movie.
- The brief appearance of a future Avenger who, sadly, will not benefit from a solo film.
Thor's origin gets messed with in a major way. I heard it was to not offend the "Harry Potter is evil because he practices witchcraft" crowd. It's a significant change, but it's done rather subtly. One of my companions didn't even realize it was tweaked until I mentioned it after the fact.
The dialogue was stiff, which works fine for scenes set in Asgard, but not so much between Earthlings ("Midgardians" if you will). Not quite sure why the denizens of Asgard speak with British accents either.
I also thought the inclusion of Thor's buddies, Sif and The Warriors Three, was pointless and in some instances stupid, at least to the extent they were featured in the film. I guess what I'm saying is that most of the supporting characters are unnecessary and ultimately detracted from the picture.
Everything involving Ms. Portman aside, my single biggest issue is the same as my beef with Ironman 2: too much of Thor was spent building up to The Avengers film. I have no doubt this movie, especially with Joss Whedon at the helm, is going to be the bee's fucking knees, but these characters deserve chances to shine on their own. These movies should be treated as individual stories and not merely prequels to a future franchise, but to be fair Thor isn't as bad as Ironman 2 in this regard. Some build-up is cool and even encouraged, but when a considerable chunk of screen time is spent advertising another film it's a disservice to the viewer. It's lame bullshit.
Oh, and make sure to stick around for the stuff after the credits. There's appropriate teasing of things to come at an appropriate place in the film.
I'm hoping Captain America isn't as mediocre.
I snatched three of 'em and took two of my friends to see Thor this past Saturday afternoon. I thought we would get there in time to snag some good seats. It was only playing on one screen at the Westbrook multiplex. This I found odd, but I figured a big blockbuster like this would be shown in one of the big-ass theaters. Y'know, one with a 56' screen. But I was wrong. Smaller theater. Smaller screen. What the hell was playing that the brain trust at CineMagic HQ thought would bring in more of a crowd? The Angry Birds movie? The film adaptation of Atlas Shrugged (no joke!)? The only thing I can think of is Fast Five. So we get in there with about five minutes to spare, and the place is packed. The only spot where we could find three empty seats together was the very front row, a mere 10' or so from the screen. But our options were limited. Other than my neck getting more fucked up than it normally is. I made do.
In my oh-so-humble opinion I give Thor a decisive "meh." A lot of the ho-hum feeling I got I accredit to Natalie Portman. I really don't get her appeal.. She's pretty enough I suppose, but I have never really been impressed with her. I liked her in The Professional (when she was thirteen), and she didn't bother me in Your Highness, but that's about it (though I admit I haven't seen Black Swan). I think of those scenes between her and Hayden Christensen in those StarWars prequels, and my brain hurts. A lot. She continued her lack of chemistry with her male co-stars with Thor. I admit I'm not completely familiar with the Thor solo comics (my knowledge of him comes mostly from The Avengers) so I don't know if her character was created specifically for the film. If she was, fuck you, J. Michael Straczynski. I tire of studios adding love interests to movies for no real reason.
Now I must warn you before you go further, gentle reader. While I contend I reveal no spoilers, some may state that I come dangerously close.
Here are some things I did like about it:
- The actors who portrayed Thor and Loki were decent.
- The special effects were solid, particularly the stuff involving Bi-Frost, the rainbow bridge. The effects certainly weren't mind-blowing, but they were cool to look at.
- It's always a good thing when Stringer Bell and Titus Pullo get acting gigs.
- I enjoyed the "Dr. Donald Blake" references.
- Though he's pretty fucking close to being a talentless hack, I enjoyed Stan Lee's cameo. As lame as he is I always like Stan's cameo appearances.
- The comic relief of quasi-sidekick Darcy, played by Kat Dennings, made me chuckle a few times.
- The presence of Thor's mom, Frigga, was minimal and frankly served no purpose. This is good because I do not care for Rene Russo.
- Kenneth Branagh given a shit load of money to make a movie.
- The brief appearance of a future Avenger who, sadly, will not benefit from a solo film.
Thor's origin gets messed with in a major way. I heard it was to not offend the "Harry Potter is evil because he practices witchcraft" crowd. It's a significant change, but it's done rather subtly. One of my companions didn't even realize it was tweaked until I mentioned it after the fact.
The dialogue was stiff, which works fine for scenes set in Asgard, but not so much between Earthlings ("Midgardians" if you will). Not quite sure why the denizens of Asgard speak with British accents either.
I also thought the inclusion of Thor's buddies, Sif and The Warriors Three, was pointless and in some instances stupid, at least to the extent they were featured in the film. I guess what I'm saying is that most of the supporting characters are unnecessary and ultimately detracted from the picture.
Everything involving Ms. Portman aside, my single biggest issue is the same as my beef with Ironman 2: too much of Thor was spent building up to The Avengers film. I have no doubt this movie, especially with Joss Whedon at the helm, is going to be the bee's fucking knees, but these characters deserve chances to shine on their own. These movies should be treated as individual stories and not merely prequels to a future franchise, but to be fair Thor isn't as bad as Ironman 2 in this regard. Some build-up is cool and even encouraged, but when a considerable chunk of screen time is spent advertising another film it's a disservice to the viewer. It's lame bullshit.
Oh, and make sure to stick around for the stuff after the credits. There's appropriate teasing of things to come at an appropriate place in the film.
I'm hoping Captain America isn't as mediocre.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Taxi Bits And Pieces
Here are a few things seen and/or heard while working this past week...
On Tuesday I saw a large bearded standing near the soup kitchen. He was wearing two tank tops and a plaid skirt. Not a tartan. Most definitely a skirt made for a woman. The man sported makeshift legwarmers. They were also plaid and clashed horribly with the skirt's pattern.
"If those were my kids I'd give those punks an ass warming." - taxi regular who wears a scent that smells of Coco Puffs
I picked up a man at Maine Medical Center and drove him to the Oxford Street Shelter. He said he was a chopper pilot in 'Nam and had a horrible acid trip while at an AC/DC concert in the late '70s.While near the corner of Cumberland Avenue and Mellen Street and he spoke...
MAN: I just got out of prison after serving six years for OUI. (points to a building) Right up here I fucked a girl. I called her up and I said I've been in prison for six years and she said "come over and I'll take care of you."
GUAK: Nice lady.
M: She's only 26.
G: Well done, sir!
M: And it only cost me $60.
"My favorite part about The Wedding Singer was Adam Sandler's character." That's a bold stance, Frank FM DJ.
Speaking of local radio personalities, I was listening to The Blimp's "Red-Eyed Rocker" Rick Brown. I missed the set-up, but the punchline involved players of Dungeons & Dragons players not getting laid. Your are as funny as you are relevant, Rick.
Speaking of local median personalities, Friday night I drove two to J's Oyster. One of them wasn't even close to being as hilarious as he thought he was (though, admittedly, he did make me chuckle). He spoke of smoking fatties with the other and then he started riffing on Somalians. I was not impressed with his tip.
"I danced with two fat girls. Someone's got to." - Fraternal Order of Eagles octogenarian
"That girl's ass is so great I want to suck a turd out of it."
While driving a load of six men and women to the strip club, one of the ladies asked me how many faces I had blessed with my ejaculate. She was not impressed with my answer.
Last night I picked up a leather daddy. He vocalized how he was on the prowl and after striking out at Blackstones he was going to try his luck at Styxx. During the ride he called me "babe" "honey" and "sexy." He gave me $5 for a trip that cost $4.60.
On Tuesday I saw a large bearded standing near the soup kitchen. He was wearing two tank tops and a plaid skirt. Not a tartan. Most definitely a skirt made for a woman. The man sported makeshift legwarmers. They were also plaid and clashed horribly with the skirt's pattern.
"If those were my kids I'd give those punks an ass warming." - taxi regular who wears a scent that smells of Coco Puffs
I picked up a man at Maine Medical Center and drove him to the Oxford Street Shelter. He said he was a chopper pilot in 'Nam and had a horrible acid trip while at an AC/DC concert in the late '70s.While near the corner of Cumberland Avenue and Mellen Street and he spoke...
MAN: I just got out of prison after serving six years for OUI. (points to a building) Right up here I fucked a girl. I called her up and I said I've been in prison for six years and she said "come over and I'll take care of you."
GUAK: Nice lady.
M: She's only 26.
G: Well done, sir!
M: And it only cost me $60.
"My favorite part about The Wedding Singer was Adam Sandler's character." That's a bold stance, Frank FM DJ.
Speaking of local radio personalities, I was listening to The Blimp's "Red-Eyed Rocker" Rick Brown. I missed the set-up, but the punchline involved players of Dungeons & Dragons players not getting laid. Your are as funny as you are relevant, Rick.
Speaking of local median personalities, Friday night I drove two to J's Oyster. One of them wasn't even close to being as hilarious as he thought he was (though, admittedly, he did make me chuckle). He spoke of smoking fatties with the other and then he started riffing on Somalians. I was not impressed with his tip.
"I danced with two fat girls. Someone's got to." - Fraternal Order of Eagles octogenarian
"That girl's ass is so great I want to suck a turd out of it."
While driving a load of six men and women to the strip club, one of the ladies asked me how many faces I had blessed with my ejaculate. She was not impressed with my answer.
Last night I picked up a leather daddy. He vocalized how he was on the prowl and after striking out at Blackstones he was going to try his luck at Styxx. During the ride he called me "babe" "honey" and "sexy." He gave me $5 for a trip that cost $4.60.
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