May 5, 2006

There's not a lot of continuity to my obsessions. How can one lone girl purport to love vampires, Elves, Sharon Stone, NSync, Lord of the Rings actors, Kevin Spacey, Gina Gershon, and Star Trek: the Next Generation more or less equally? Easily, I say. But if the randomness makes you scratch your head and furrow your brow, consider this:

Hollywood is casting out of my brain. I'm not kidding.

Take the new movie starring Justin Timberlake (formerly of NSync fame) and Sharon Stone. Yeah, I hear you scoffing. But Alpha Dog is not something I made up. It's a real honest-to-god film. Starring Justin Timberlake and Sharon Stone. If I were a casting director... well, enough said. Just like Edison. The film starring Kevin Spacey and Justin Timberlake.

Then there's one of my favorite films ever, the brilliant noir L.A. Confidential, in which James Cromwell plays a great lead alongside Kevin Spacey. James Cromwell then went on to star with the cast of Star Trek: TNG in Star Trek: First Contact. Which, incidentally, also featured a cameo by Dwight "Howling Mad Murdoch" Schultz of The A-Team fame. Guy Pearce, another amazing L.A. Confidential lead, went on to star alongside TIGERS (gorgeous real ones) in Two Brothers.

The Lord of the Rings gang, of course, endlessly entertain and amaze us with literally hundreds of diverse roles. But the best ones are when they work together or with vampires. Van Helsing was an incredibly shitty movie but one cannot deny the camp appeal of David Wenham acting alongside VAMPIRES. Does it get better? Well... yes. A whole damn lot better, actually. But the idea was sound. And in The Bourne Supremacy, Matt Damon has to fight and kill both Marton Csokas and Karl Urban. (Naturally I was rooting for Marton and Karl but Hollywood continues to have no imagination and insisted on having "the hero" win. Boo.) In Russian Doll, David Wenham and Hugo Weaving are in love with the same woman. Oh, really, the list is endless. About the only thing that hasn't happened yet is Marton Csokas and Craig Parker being cast in a movie with Gina Gershon as a vampire heroine whom both are in love with but unfortunately have to slay by harnessing the power of NSync's music after tracking her to a nature reserve where her crypt is protected by tigers and also the starship Enterprise.

Fuck, admit it, that sounds WAY better than a remake of The Dukes of Hazzard or Dallas.

I'm in the wrong career.

May 3, 2006

Hackers are funny.

Maybe not if they hack MY page but when they hack other people's pages I generally find the result to be incredibly amusing. Of course, I also think Showgirls is a genuine piece of cinematic glory. Thus I allow that the amusement value of viewing the following link may vary from individual to individual.

Go here now.

The reason this is so funny is that is supposed to be the home of The Marton Csokas Archives which, unlike most fan sites, is Very Serious Website run by a Very Serious Marton Csokas Fan who announces right on the homepage of the site that he/she does not enjoy speculation into Marton's private life or personal habits, does not run a photo gallery for those just wanting to ogle Marton's physical glory, does not operate a fan forum for those wanting to trivialize Marton's Very Important Film Roles, and generally wishes that everybody would just praise Marton's ample acting prowess and undeniable talent with All Due Serious Respect. Period. I may have paraphrased but that's the gist of it. Which is why this particular hack is so genius.

If you dawdle and don't visit the link before it's fixed, you won't truly be able to appreciate the sight of a dumpy, sour-faced, red-headed girl in a one-piece swimsuit and purple swim goggles staring at you above the inscription: Hi, I'm Katie Bischoff - I write about Marton having sex with men. I write about Marton having sex with men, women, with two men at the same time, with anonymous people in dark alleyways, with leather and hancuffs, and things that your addled little mind couldn't even fanthom. And it isn't just Marton - I write stories about men and women and famous peple and people I just happened to sit next to on the Metro.

Oh lighten up.

I'm not saying I care either way who Marton sleeps with or how. His sex is his business. And he's a damn fine actor, of course. Damn fine. But it's still a funny hack.

*hopes VampireNomad avoids an instant karma hack in return for being amused*

May 1, 2006

Not much that wasn't dancing around like a looney to "Little Green Bag" off the Reservoir Dogs soundtrack got accomplished today. It's half-way through Week Four of The Longest Resignation In The World(TM) so I've started to go a bit batty.

Fine, yes, you're absolutely correct in saying that I've always been batty. (Stupid mortal peanut gallery always calling me out on my non-truths and half-lies.) Now, however, I'm also bored out of my skull by The Job That Won't Die(TM) along with being naturally off-kilter and it is choosing to express itself in random dance sequences to blaring music when I should be doing such riveting things as tallying lieu hours accrued by employees on the recent stat holiday and programming session times into the computer system. *sigh* God my job is GLAMOUROUS! I haven't the vaguest idea why you wouldn't want to be me.

I was also reminded, through some weird and circuitous thought pattern, of the time a large bouquet of technicolor flowers was delivered to my workplace. They were for me but they were not from my boy. They were from an anonymous suitor and the card attached rather cryptically stated "To the girl who works 60 hours a week. Call the right number and you'll be taken out for a drink." Despite the fact that I texted every male in my address book, none would own up to the gesture (though several, including the aforementioned boy, said they wished they could take credit) and to this day I have no idea who sent the flowers. That was in January. Let me take this opportunity to offer a sage piece of advice to would-be lotharios of the male variety. Anonymous gestures only help your cause if you eventually take credit or leave deliberate clues so you'll be "found". $50+ on a bouquet with an offer for a drink and no name or number (but with the vaguest whiff of Eau De Stalker by alluding to the fact that you watch me arrive at and leave work 60 hours a week) is not the fastest way to my or any sane woman's heart.

Though admittedly I'd even grasp at a lunch date with a stalker to make the next two and a half weeks go faster. I imagine flirting with danger probably makes time speed up exponentially. You know, the more danger you're in, the less time you have left. That sort of thing.

The Longest Resignation In The World(TM) is now one day shorter. I'd be ecstatic if I could muster the energy.

April 30, 2006

Dear Torch, Mrs. Torch, and Poe,

We'll miss you here. Good luck on the hell-drive to Cowtown.

Good luck with the new job and house and all.

Visit sometime, will ya? Don't be strangers.