True Confessions of an Originaljoesnake

There’s nothing more boring than a Friday afternoon when you work in an office.  Persons more important than you and making more money you have usually used their abilities to “get out of jail free” by the afternoon and time seems to grind to a halt much like it used to in middle school math class. There’s only so much internet surfing you can do.

I don’t know why, but lately I haven’t had the urge to write in this blog. Since starting True Confessions, I’ve felt that I had to write article style entries instead of the journal type stuff I did as a strapping young collegiate. Maybe I’ve been trying to be profound or something, maybe I’ve just come to grips with the fact that not a lot of people are clamoring to get updates on the more meaningless things in my life.

I used to like to write about sarcastic and exaggerated happenings in my life. I could fill you in on the crazy security guard in my building, Ray. Now that I think about it, I’m running into a lot of crazy people these days. But, I just don’t have the energy to capture their craziness. There’s a story in my mind about the different types you’ll run into at the public library, but to hash it out the way I’d want to would take a big dollar budget and months.

It’s funny how it happens with music or with anything that involves marketing and image. Side note: That’s why I’d love to get into marketing or advertising. I love the whole concept of consumer behavior- why people buy the things they buy. Some things we just have to have, some we just hate.

Take the example of Brady Quinn and Adrian Peterson. The Cleveland Browns with likely select one of these players in the upcoming NFL Draft this weekend. While Brady Quinn is probably the smarter choice for the Browns long-term, I don’t want to see him in Brown and Orange. I think he comes across as cocky and is overrated. Adrian Peterson on the other hand, seems like a bad-ass who’ll turn into the next LaDanian Tomlinson if Cleveland doesn’t pick him. I hope the Browns choose AP, not Quinn.

Adrian Peterson – True Confessions’ NFL Draft Comparison:

Player he could be like if picked by the Browns - William Green- gets hurt,  off-field troubles.

If picked by team that’s not the Browns – Eric Dickerson, Shaun Alexander.

Why? Have I watched extensive film on either? No. Minus sportcenter highlights, which both of the two had plently of, the only full games I’ve seen either one play is the beat-down Ohio State administered to Quinn’s Fighting Irish. Quinn’s sister, Laura, watched her brother get thrown around the field like a rag doll by her husband-to-be. Maybe it’s all those close ups of Laura Quinn with her stupid half OSU half Notre Dame jersey on and her mouth wide open, but I don’t want Brady Quinn playing for the Cleveland Browns. Which, doesn’t make sense because according the all accounts, Quinn is a good football player and he actually wants to play for the Browns (unusual).

Mrs. A.J. Hawk

According to the Cleveland sports self-fulfilling prophecy, it probably doesn’t even matter. Whoever the Browns take will play on mediocre teams get hurt just enough to give us give us small glimmers of what they could have been before ultimately being considered a bust (see Couch, Tim and Brown, Courtney). The Browns will probably pick Quinn because the optimism associated with grooming a new quarterback will buy Savage and Crennell a few more years before fans want their heads too.

I’m no anorexic tranny-vampire, I’m a songstress, dammit!

Oh yeah, back to Amy Winehouse. I mean look at her. OK, I found the worst picture of her I possibly could, but still. She looks incapable of doing anything right, let alone being an amazing songstress. That’s right, I used the word songstress. But, for almost a year I heard things about Ms. Winehouse but refused to check her out, assuming the worst about her music. Appearances can be deceiving. While listening to XM radio in the car one day, Rehab came on and blew me away. Now, I’m all about Amy Winehouse and her soulful, voice makes it seem like her skin color should be darker than it is in real life voice. I should have been listening to this crazy-looking-like-a crack-whore songstress a lot sooner!

Wanna see my ‘brella baby?

Then there’s Rihanna, who’s music I’ve never listened to either. Yet, by the looks of things, I’m strangely motivated to check out her newest single, Umbrella and it’s video.

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It’s a small and meaningless achievement, but enough to have made me smile inside since Thursday, the morning after the NBA regular season ended. I won my fantasy basketball league championship. Out of 20 teams, I was the best. For those not privy to the fun that’s fantasy basketball, or any fantasy sport for that matter, it’s like the stock market but with big, athletically inclined men as your stocks. You try to pick the ones that are going to score the most points, rebounds, assists, etc. and commit the fewest turnovers and fouls. I’ve always done well with the guys that fly under the radar and consistently get good, not great totals in every category. There’s always players that emerge during the season and I try to get them onto my theoretical team as soon as possible.

•  1st place, Ohio League:Team Harold Miner 

So, there it is. Team Harold Miner, General Manager and Coach was yours truly. The name reference, of course, is the former Heat and Cavs “great”, two-time NBA Slam Dunk Champion, Harold “Baby Jordan” Miner, who has literally disappeared off the face of the earth since his playing days. I beat the competition with guys like Charlie Bell, David Lee, Linas Kleiza, and David West and few blue chippers like Dwight Howard and Chris Bosh. I ruthlessly cut and exchanged players all season long to my benefit. Now, proudly, I add this nerdy and unsubstantial league title to my resume. All hail Team Harold Miner!

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Snow? What’s up with this snow?!? It’s April! One minute I’m enjoying playing basketball outside and taking walks in shorts and a t-shirt with my wife, the next the roads are covered in the white stuff and I’m slipping and sliding all the way home from the theater.

I don’t know what’s cooler: having a machine gun for a leg or being able to drive a chopper with a machine gun for a leg…

Tonight, I went to see the Robert Rodriquez and Quentin Tarantino double feature, Grindhouse. I knew this was another attempt to dive into an infamous genre by two ridiculously talented directors, like Kill Bill was to Kung Fu. I was worried that Lauren and her friend Courtney, from Paul Mitchell, wouldn’t be as into the movie as I was (you know because of the blood and guts), but by the time we left the theater some 3 hours later, they were as pumped about what they had seen as I was.

A lot has been said about this movie: it’s gross, bloody, action packed, etc. I was ready for all that, but yet the first movie, Rodriquez’s Planet Terror still caught me off guard with it’s over the top, ridiculous, oozing, puss, spraying blood, guts, and bubbling flesh- enough to fill an Olympic size swimming pool. This movie obviously does not take itself seriously! Let’s put it this way: Tarantino’s predictably horrible acting fit right in. Is it me or does this guy probably just act exactly like he is in real life every time he appears in a movie?

Planet Terror as a film is like The Naked Gun meets From Dusk ’til Dawn meets Dawn of the Dead meets Armageddon. It’s sumltaneuosly trying to gross you out and make you laugh at it’s slapstick humor and wit. Wray, the hero, tells Cherry, the heroine, who is discouraged after having her leg eaten off by a zombie but still dreams of becoming a stand up comedian, that some of the funniest jokes are about cripples. Rose McGowan has to be the sexiest amputee ever. There’s a jar full of testicles, kids shooting themselves in the face, and everywhere you look, zombies are eating people’s flesh. The camera wasn’t shy about catching all of this. I loved the part where the survivors were getting the caravan ready and Wray jumped on the mini-bike.

Although I loved the idea when I first heard it, the fake trailers really didn’t impress me that much. I can’t help but think if I had the resources these big name directors had, I could make something just as funny. There were a few chuckles, but maybe my expectations were too high.

It’s a known fact in marketing: Bullets have always sold magazine covers.

The second movie, Tarantino’s Death Proof, in my opinion was the best of the two. Planet Terror seems to receive all the buzz, but Death Proof was the one that made Grindhouse worth seeing again. Seemingly many elements of Death Proof’s plot haven’t really been widely publicized, because going in, a didn’t really know what to expect. I recommend you do the same and see the movie ignorantly if you can. I knew Kurt Russell was the main antagonist, that he drove a black muscle car with a skull on the hood, and that was about it. I couldn’t find many pictures from Death Proof, probably for this same reason.

These girls are about to go on a demon hell-ride even Wesley Willis would be proud of!

The characters, as usual for a Quentin Tarantino movie, were also amazing. I could easily see people saying that this movie was dull because there was an insane amount of time spent developing characters and a storyline that in the end had only a little bearing on the climax of the film. There were also the obligatory allusions to past Tarantino and Rodriquez works throughout both films and the mandatory Quentin foot fetish shots. The brief moment where Russell, playing the character Stuntman Mike, looks right at the camera and cracks a smile before he gets into his “death proof” car with Rose McGowan, also playing a small role in Death Proof is 100% Gold. The second set of girls we finally meet halfway through, Zoe, Abernathy, and Kim are sexy, bad ass bitches. Kim is kind of like a young, feisty, female stunt woman version of Samuel L. Jackson. While Death Proof started slow, (I was thinking OK, I know Rosario Dawson is like a main character in this movie where is she) it took a drastic turn about midway through. What resulted was one of the most intense, white knuckle, palm sweating car chase scenes I’ve ever seen. You always hear about how awesome the chase in the movie Bullitt is, but Death Proof’s chase blows it out of the water and in the process, after Zoe holds onto the hood for dear life, pays homage to that classic film. Definitely worth the wait.

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