Pop Culture Blog: Music, Movie and Humor

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Amazing Music Quiz In My Bloggy Absence.


in Musical

Loyal readers – listen to me very carefully. Right click here and then opt to save the file to your desktop. Prepare to take the coolest music quiz there’s probably ever been. What you’ll see when you open the file are hundreds of photos of bands – type the correct band name into the corresponding cell and get a point. I look forward to finding the time, any time, to really try my hand at this. Come back later and post your scores.

UPDATE: This is killing my bandwidth and I’ve removed it. If you’d like me to email it to you, let me know.

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The Tale Of Lemmiwinks.


in

I’m not feeling particularly like writing anything today, as I’m up to my ears in the week from hell. But this made me laugh hysterically in the midst of my ordeal, and I wanted to share. It’s a bit on the rude side, so watch your volume. Here’s hoping we all find our Sparrow Prince, someday.

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Friday’s Quizzlet: Quick And Definitely Dirty.


in Monday's Quotelet

Appetizer: Describe your week in one word.
Paradoxical.

Soup: Tell about a funny practical joke that you’ve played on someone.
At Vermont Academy, the boys dorm was located right beside the main classroom building. Fuller Hall also had an auditorium and – most importantly – a bell tower. The tower could be accessed by climbing a spiral staircase which was located off a locked prop room in the auditorium. We brow-beat one of the band geeks who had a key to this room until they ‘lent’ it to my friend Mark. After morning-meeting, Mark unlocked the prop room and took a rope up into the tower. He tied the rope to the bell pull, dropped it out of the steeple, and we all began a long school day worrying that our little prank-in-progress would be discovered. But nobody noticed the dangling rope, and after lights-out we dropped a similar rope out of our third floor dorm window. Then Mark snuck outside (an expellable offence) while the rest of us played lookout on various floors. Mark darted across the lawn between the two buildings and eventually tied the two ends of rope together – providing us with full bell-ringing access from the comfort of our own room. We waited until about 3 a.m. and started ringing the bejeezus out of the damn thing – waking the entire campus. Eventually we noticed the maniacal headmaster sprinting towards the scene of the crime. We simply dropped the rope out of the window and went back to our respective rooms. As a variety of teachers started bursting through doors in an attempt to catch the culprits, 5 naughty schoolboys giggled furiously into their pillows. Jesus that last sentence sounds filthy.

Salad: – Name someone you had a crush on when you were a kid.
A Mississauga girl named Michelle. The crush teetered precariously on ‘morbid obsession’.

Main Course: If you were a member of royalty, what would your title be?
Duke, Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl. Or maybe Little Lord Fauntelroy.

Dessert: What colors are the clothes you are wearing today?
Dark blue jeans, cobalt blue jumper, pink thong. What are you wearing, dear readers? And will it be wrong to print out your descriptions so I can masturbate to them later?

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Chris And The Big Sixy-Deuce.


in Movies

Happy Birthday to the crown jewel of American cinema. Walken is 62 years young today! In celebration, have a quick peek at this list of facts and trivia from his fascinating life. Among my favorites:

  • Always tries to work a jig (dance) into his movies.
  • Jerry Lewis influenced Walken to make show business his career.
  • Was George Lucas‘s second choice for the role of Han Solo in Star Wars
  • Worked briefly as a lion tamer in a circus at age 15.
  • Was on Natalie Wood‘s yacht the night she drowned.
  • Only Oscar-winning actor to portray a 007 villain, in A View to a Kill.
  • Along with Alec Baldwin, he has a standing invitation to host “Saturday Night Live” (1975) every year.
  • In his 35 years in film, he has acted in well over 90 films. He rarely turns down a part, under the belief that making movies (whether they turn out good or bad) is always a rewarding experience.
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The Video Cassettes Of Our Lives.


in Reminiscent

I have a couple of old friends in town who are staying at my apartment this week. They’re more like family, actually – Terry is my father’s friend whom I’ve known since I was 5, and Josh is his 13 year old son. I lived with them during my time in England and we all try to get together at least once a year. When they asked if they could come visit me, I didn’t hesitate for a second. ‘No,’ I said. Not really.

Those of you who have been to my apartment can imagine how tight the quarters have become. I borrowed a futon mattress from a friend and put it on my bedroom floor. So what happens is, the door is pushed open halfway (the mattress blocks it) Terry jumps in to the right and lands on my bed. Then Josh jumps in to the left and lands on the mattress. There’s no floor space to spare, and I’m cutoff from extra-curricular computer activities for the week (which may be a good thing). But they both claim they’re extremely comfortable, and we’ve been having a hoot. Couch city ain’t so bad, either. The gurgle of the fish tank is better than a sleeping pill.

When I got home from work yesterday, Terry had a great bottle of wine, stuffed peppers, bread and smoked proscuitto waiting for me. Terry is a bit of a gourmet, and he obviously loves the North End like you wouldn’t believe. We had a great chat about life, the universe and everything while Josh hacked away at my guitar downstairs. Think musical prodigy. Terry was the landlord of the pub I worked at during my 14 months in England, so his social group became mine. I met many multitudes of interesting characters, and I think we must have discussed them all. Then we got to talking about one guy in particular, who died recently, and I remembered all my damn videotapes.

I probably have 4 hours of video from those days – special events at the pub (New Years Eve, Burns Night, Weddings, Wakes) my trip to Stonehenge, my leaving party, etc. And Terry literally could not believe his eyes. We watched the whole damn thing, and it got pretty emotional at times because a lot of people on those tapes are dead, relationships have since failed, people have fallen out of touch, etc. People used to kid me during the years when I constantly had my camera out. But I always knew that someday they’d prove useful. Someday they’d make people very happy. And that day was yesterday.

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Loving Queens Of The Stone Age Right Now.


in Musical

Yes, it’s true – I’m officially a QOTSA convert. Monster and I went to the show at the Roxy last night, and I thoroughly dug the Christ out of it. Them boys can rock.

The new album is their best yet, and the loss of founding member Nick Olivieri hasn’t been the disaster that everyone dreaded. If anything, they’re better than ever and continue to evolve with each new record. The concert was amazing – I didn’t think the acoustics at the Roxy would be anything to write home about, but everything sounded great. Normally I associate the Roxy with house music and bridge and tunnel steakheads, but it’s a nice little venue. Josh Homme has cultivated a really unique guitar sound that really stands out from the pack, and their use of brass and piano completes the audio steroid package. Big fan.

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Easter Sunday Silliness.


in Heartwarming

I’m blogging to you live, all the way from my sister’s apartment in Medford. Jenny, Janet, Damaris, Steven, Aaron and the rest of the gang are currently gorging on Brie, 7-layer dip, Cadbury Creme Eggs and Hypnotiq. Our heavenly father would certainly approve.

Friday night the gang went out for Jim’s birthday and, of course, my camera was in attendance. Big fans of eachother for going on 15 years, my father requested over the phone that I “throw Jim down onto the floor, grab his nuts and then kiss him on the forehead” on his behalf. While that didn’t happen, it certainly was among the nuttiest of evenings. So please enjoy a couple of my favorite snaps as you celebrate this holiest of days.

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Friday’s Quizzlet: Go Back To Jersey, Ya Moron!


in Monday's Quotelet

Atlantic City was interesting to say the least. I made it back safely, and I’ll post some photos over the weekend. In the meantime, it seems the Quizzlet lady has recovered from her grave illness as I found the following questions in my mailbox this morning. Also, tonight is Jim’s birthday. Anyone who’d like to join the revelry, please give me a call.

Appetizer: What is the worst movie you’ve ever seen?
I’m notorious for liking some pretty bad movies, so I think anyone who knows me will take this answer with a big ol’ hunk of kosher salt. I do, afterall, own such classics as Tango & Cash, Evil Dead and Salem’s Lot. But to be honest, I didn’t have to contemplate this question for long. The worst movie I’ve ever seen is Fahrenheit 911. Not for reasons of poor cinematic craftmanship. Michael Moore is a talented director. The reason I hated this film is the way in which it was disguised – and worse yet, perceived – as an objective documentary. Triumph of the Will had less of an agenda. Please read this and then this, and I promise I’ll never mention this fetid pile of dung again.

Soup: Name something that reminds you of your childhood.
Photographs, a fear of wooden spoons and a plethora of mental scars. Speaking of scars, I’ve recently been asked several times, by different people, about the one on my eyebrow. While playing Starsky and Hutch at age 8 in Manotick, I slipped and fell whilst in pursuit of a dangerous criminal (Jennifer Snider). My head came flying down on a rusty trailer hitch of all things, and although I was fine I started bleeding like I’d been chainsawed. Jennifer’s older sister, Janet, was babysitting us at the time and the two of us decided to freak her out. I rang my own doorbell and was standing there absolutely soaked in blood when Janet opened the door and promptly screamed. It was the classic make-your-babysitter-think-you’ve-been-grotesquely-dismembered-whilst-under-her-care trick.

Salad: If you had to live in a large city, which one would you pick?
I would, and did, pick Boston. I could never live in the Urban Death Maze, and I don’t plan on heading back to Canada until I get my citizenship – although Vancouver is looking mighty attractive lately. I can only do what I do in a select number of cities, so my choices are fairly limited. As much as I’d love to move to Kentucky, where I could get an eight-story house for one month’s Boston rent, the only thing I could optimize there would be hate crimes.

Main Course: What’s a “big word” you like to use to impress people?
I used to run around with a guy named Andy Kirk when I’d go to visit my parents in Hong Kong. Andy worked as a bodyguard for some rich local, and was known absolutely everywhere to absolutely everyone. He showed my sister and I some of the greatest times of our young lives, acting as our personal tour guide over the Christmas holidays of 1994 & 1995. Doormen and club owners in WanChai, Central and Repulse Bay would look at us and say simply “Hello Mr Andy!” before letting our group cut the line and dodge the cover wherever we happened to be. It was an amazing way to see that mad island, and I’ll be forever grateful.

I still keep in touch with Andy, who currently lives in Manchester England, and a few years back he toured with Oasis as Noel Gallagher’s bodyguard. He IM’d me recently to tell me to get the Familiar to Millions tour DVD as he appears on it several times. Needless to say I ran out and got it, and sure enough – there’s Andy in a few scenes looking all big and bloody mean. Anyway, Oasis plays a great song called Acquiesce during the concert. I had never heard of it, as it was an obscure B-side to one of their later singles. Eventually I got around to looking up the meaning of the word – as prior to hearing the tune I had no idea it even existed. The simple definition is to “consent or comply passively or without protest.” So watch for me attempting to slip that word into conversations in the near future. And then beat me unmercifully when I do.

Dessert: Describe your hairstyle.
Tragic. I recently bit the bullet and had it cut after attempting for a few months to grow it out. When I was told last week that my hair resembled Bill Murray’s in Scrooged, I knew it was time to seek out that striped pole.

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Is Easter Still Politically Correct?


in

I don’t want anyone to feel as though I’m pushing my religion on them, so please don’t take offence when I wish everybody a very Happy Easter. Unless you’re an insurgent Islamic fundamentalist – in which case I wish you and yours a swift death at the hands of an Apache Longbow.

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Well They Blew Up The Chicken Man In Philly Last Night.


in

My first foray into Atlantic City kicks off in about 8 hours, and I’ll be without access to email or my precious blog for a couple of days. Whether I’m in an important business meeting, writing an addendum to our proposal or getting slapped around in the back room of a casino – I’ll be thinking about each and every one of you.

So go on without me, dear readers, and I’ll see you on the flipside.

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Boston’s Beloved Bartenders


in Heartwarming

This year’s Improper Bostonian Beloved Bartender Edition hits the stands tomorrow, and I’m scanning the bejeezus out of my advance copy as I type. The SideBar‘s very own Sharon Cannava graces the cover of this year’s edition, and we’re all buzzing with a ‘local girl does good’ sort of a feel (and 4 Juicy Peaches). Regardless – way to go, girl! But I’m actually dreading all this new found publicity because the place will be even more jammed than usual from here on out. At least I’ll be able to tell my Grandkids I was hanging out there before it was cool – before then telling them to hurry up and change my dialysis bag.

The little SideBar blurb is surprisingly accurate, and really captures many of the things we regulars dig about the place: “Between the career networking and hooking up that goes on, the bar fosters friendships that give it a Cheers-for-twentysomethings feel” I’d wager that the author must have been there after 6pm, however, cause if they’d been there during the day it would have been much more of a “depressing hangout for-career drunkards who spend their welfare checks on Bud Lite Drafts feel“. Still, we love that shite hole dearly.

If Sharon’s being featured wasn’t enough of a treat, my old Concord Carlisle class of 1991-mate Mark Tibbets was also chosen for his undying work and devotion over at The Harp: “I just can’t give it up. These people are like my family“. What do you mean by that, Mark? Harp customers disowned you and made you sleep in the garage? And, of course, frequent Pye In The Face contributor P-Cip made the list again as usual. So congrats, all you Pernod pushers and peach schnapps peddlers – It’s a tough, thankless and curiously addicting racket. We salute you.

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A Concord Sabbatical.


in

I went out to C-Town on the spur of the moment Friday night, and stayed until late Sunday. I didn’t click a mouse, drink anything other than seltzer water, worry about work or otherwise obsess for about 36 hours – and it was lovely. I abandoned any additional zany St. Patrick’s day related plans, after the debaucle that was Thursday night, and I decided to get all ‘small-towny’ for the remainder of the weekend.

I lived in Concord from 88-95 and have developed a real affinity with the place. To this day, I like to try and get out around once a month – Many of my friends still live in town and there’s always people to see and places to stay. It’s amazing how much fun hiking, dog-walking and bonfire-building can actually be. City living must be getting to me after 5 years.

I guess I’m feeling more and more like it’s time for me to stop bathing, move into a secluded cabin in the woods and start writing my manifesto. The accompanying letter bombs and anthrax Fed-Exes will come in due time.

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Friday’s Quizzlet: Hit Me With Your Best Shot.


in Monday's Quotelet

Here is what I found when I sought the quizzlet this morning:

“This week’s Friday’s Feast is cancelled due to my having a terrible sore throat, fever, and headache. Come back next week for Feast 40!”

What a friggin’ wimp. Anyway, the last time I started asking myself questions, I was strapped to a mattress and placed under observation for three days. So I invite you, dear reader, to supply me with quizzlet questions today. Post a comment, and I’ll get back to you.

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