Wonder Land

You know when you really want to go on a water slide because everyone talks about it and you've been around water slides your whole life? You get really worked up and decide to take the plunge only to realize that it's the busiest part of the park because you went at noon, the warmest part of the day. So you wait in line and worry that you're not going to get on because of all the people also waiting but then somehow you get lucky and get on the slide. But then as you're on the slide you don't enjoy it as much and it's not quite as fun as you'd thought it would be. And then as you get to the bottom you see a bunch of people you know in line, all talking about how exciting the slide is going to be. You wander around the park and see how much fun people are having in the relatively small lines to the haunted houses and various roller coasters. There are obviously still lines but you're not part of the bustling crowd of people clamoring to get onto the ride. Your envy can't help but be stirred. So you trudge back to the water park and line up again and are disappointed by the people you see. You expected a different sort of person to be here. You thought you would be different but the slide doesn't change you and maybe that was the problem. You don't look forward to the slide that much. And the people who have seasons passes aren't as you expected them either. It seems like too much trouble to get out of line for the slide and try to line up somewhere else because you might be too short to ride the other attractions. But you're stuck in the park until it closes so you may as well do something. How can you explain to people that you don't want to go on any ride in the park? What else would you do? Just line up and make the best of it because it's a long way until closing time.

I Think I Just Leroy Jenkins-ed This Shit

Been a while. Lots of things have happened. Let's keep it short: worked a bit made a little money and am now in freakout mode. I went to some friends' wedding (the same wedding; they were both my friend, independently of each other) which was awesome as well. That was quite nice. But now it's just you and me again isn't it, Internet. I want to throw my concerns and worries into you like paper inside glass bottles being hurled into the sea. Back in the 20's sending out a message in a bottle would have been similar to writing a blog on the internet but with less assurance that someone (or anyone) would read it. Although, this blog in particular compares pretty closely. But I wonder if perhaps in the future unnecessary blogs like this would be considered littering, as messages in bottles would be considered today. There's a thought to consider. Another one to consider is this:

Biggest mistake ever or just staying the course to better things?

I'm actually probably more like Hamlet than Leroy since he doesn't do anything whereas Mr. Jenkins is obviously a go-getter.

I'm actually probably more like that one pretentious asshole you know (hopefully there's only one) who compares themselves to characters from Shakespeare. FML

And then he entered the room, suddenly...or did he?

The bottle of wine lay on the ground dripping frantically onto the ground, slowly pouring out the remnants of its livelihood onto the hardwood floor. The puddle of wine gained mass and the slight force of gravity on the minutely uneven floor caused the circle of red to trickle towards the white apron. The apron was balled up into a makeshift pillow under the head of Leroy Smolsky. He lay fast asleep upon the apron with his hands between his legs and the backs of his calves squished firmly against the backs of his thighs. He lay in a scrumpled ball on the floor, trying to conserve warmth as he slept. The wine menace snuck its way across the landscape to reach its inevitable target. The terrain between the wine and the man-ball was littered with crumpled paper, beer bottles, clothing and cigar butts. The wine precariously flittered around various objects as the path of lowest potential energy revealed itself. The puddle of wine was becoming a river. The initial pool now transformed into a tributary of terrible taint. The dark red stream oozing ever closer to the poor unsuspecting buffoon who snored quietly amidst a forest of garbage. The odd banana peel gave the floor an even dirtier feeling. Not to mention the lone piece of half-eaten pizza that was a Germany distance away from the relative North America that was Leroy. The ever persistent wine kept its snakelike action as it began to branch into multiple streams, dictated by the slight imperfections in the floor. The tiniest of deviations from a planar state in the floor caused the wine to follow its course. Leroy could always blame the floor or even the man who installed the hardwood or even the architect who designed the building or even the school that trained the architect or even the country that built the school or even the world that created the country or even...who was left? No one, I'm sure but let's continue. Where were we? Ah yes, the wine. Inching its way closer, the wine was now on the threshold of Leroy's personal space. Like a wooden horse at the gates of Troy, the wine now approached the event horizon created by Leroy's body. The overweight man caused a distortion in the floor's existence. The floor became bent around his body, due to his mass. This was part of the reason that the wine flowed toward him. He was to blame after all! His existence itself was the cause to his misfortune! A breakthrough! But alas, Leroy is ever on the floor. With the wine perched on the verge of soaking into the white apron inevitably waking Leroy up, causing him to swear loudly, causing the woman in his bed to stir, causing her to question her location and ponder how she got there, causing Leroy to remember the previous night just seconds after the woman in his bed did, causing a furious fight that fosters hatred in both parties, causing Leroy to do something he regrets, causing Leroy to distort the world around him, causing all the problems in the world to cascade down upon him like a waterfall of agony, causing him to wake up and swear loudly, causing him to start the cycle again.

There's Leroy, all alone on the floor. Two disasters about to befall him. Mayhaps if the boisterous and arrogant neighbour, Richmond were to knock on the door at just the right time. In his swede sport coat, elegantly faded jeans and designer shoes Richmond could put an end to all of this. He could check his watch and see the time is 8:54am and decide to grab a coffee before he ventures out into the world. The sunlight would stream into his apartment, it would sneak its way around dust in the air in a fraction of a second. An onslaught of photons would set the stage for this drama as Richmond checked his sugar tin and realized he was out of the white, crystalline substance. Here it is, the potential redemption of the mess next door. Richmond's apartment stands in stark contrast to his neighbour's. The very definition of order is personified by Richmond's apartment. After all, without order, what are we?

Richmond never knows how vital his role is. How he could save everything. It is not known. Does it happen?

Does Leroy ever wake up? More importantly, can he wake up without the wine staining the apron?

He is doomed, his salvation rests on a well-dressed man's dietary desires. His damnation rests in the crimson swirls on his floor, creeping like the hand of Death to grab him and drag him to Hell. His salvation and end also lie in the olive and pearl-white entanglement in his bed. A slender leg and a mash of cotton contained in a silk sheet. He was never the instrument of his own salvation. He is always the tool of his demise. He is always on the floor. He is caught amidst the chaos that surrounds him. He hears and sees nothing relating to the man next door, the woman in the next room. There is no sound. There breathing is silenced over the torrential roar of the wine, dripping onto the floor, making a mess.

I Recommend "The Invention of Lying" Because I Enjoyed It

I was on a plane and decided to tickle my fancy with the onboard entertainment; particularly a movie called The Invention of Lying. I anticipated that the movie would be a lark and I would bother everyone else on the plane with my raucous laughter and chronic knee-slapping. However, from essentially start to finish there was not even a whisper of laughter from my lips. My knees were not even CLOSE to being slapped and everyone on the plane had an enjoyable flight.

Except for me.

I was so disappointed at what I had assumed would have been a hilarious movie.

Ricky Gervais + Louis C.K. = hilarious [1]

This was the equation that I thought I had but upon rigorous analysis it was actually this equation:

Flaccid Penis + Vagina = Bad Sex [2]

The whole movie was basically like I was excited to get laid only to realize that my sexual partner was not attractive at all but then I was forced to have sex against my will. I just wanted it to be over to see if at least the ending would be good but it was not. Watching this movie was just like constantly thrusting my limp member into a relatively taught cavity without joy for an hour and a half with no sweet release at the end. Then I just felt ashamed and regretted ever watching it.

Where were the jokes? All the comedy was based on actors' reactions to various stimuli thrown into the movie. There were no written jokes or if there were I missed them.

I waited for the movie to get better but it didn't and then it went into a bizarre twist when it started going down a religious route. Mark Bellison's lie that invents the notion of a happy afterlife to cheer up a character who is dying takes the movie down a weird path that I wasn't expecting. A large portion of the movie then focuses on the lie of "The Man in the Sky" and proceeds to make other religiously themed jokes. I was confused, not entertained and soured to the whole movie.

Here's the thing. When I read The Chronicles of Narnia when I was a kid I never knew there were religious undertones to the series. I just thought it was a bunch of talking donkeys killing each other and was totally into it (because I was a kid and followed the relation in [3]). Even though C.S. Lewis intended it to be a religious series of books, I didn't like it for the religion when I was young. I didn't root for Aslan because he was Jesus; I liked Aslan because he was a badass fucking lion who took none of the White Witch's shit.

I wouldn't want to watch a movie that was blatantly pro-religion under the guise of being the next The Hangover.

Bruce Almighty was a similar type of movie. It was shitty for a number of different reasons but one of them was that it threw too much religion in your face (mainly secular, spirituality, Deepak Chopra shit). However, Bruce Almighty was about God. It never made any claims to not be about God. It was what it was in all its shitty glory. If I had known about the apparent large role that religion played in The Invention of Lying (like when Ricky Gervais looked like Jesus) I would have expected something much different.

I was disappointed because I expected a lot more funny and a lot less religious commentary. The only things I can conclude about life/this movie are as follows:

Kids = Dumb [3]

Title of this blog entry = Lie [4]