When my wife and I discovered that our in-production kid #2 was, in fact, going to be kids #2 and #3... a lot changed quickly. Our house suddenly became too small. Our car suddenly became inadequate to the task of hauling around our unnatural number of children. Our plans for a neat and orderly future suddenly went up in flames. And - perhaps most important, surpassing even the knowledge that "the twins" was no longer going to be an acceptable metaphor for breasts - every movie we'd ever seen about twins suddenly became a training ground for the years to come.
So, I watched Taylor Swift host Saturday Night Live last weekend and I thought she did a pretty good job.
Of course, this is the kind of confession that's going to get me shunned by my peers, banned from certain websites and dropped by all my Twitter followers that aren't porn. (Thanks for sticking with me, '@Watch_me_ride_me_Misty.")
I'm going to tell you a secret and then immediately after this post is published you'll probably never hear from me again because I'll be whisked away to a secret location and killed or be forced to undergo extensive plastic surgery and a total identity change. Kurt and I are the same person, much in the same way Janet and LaToya and Michael Jackson were the same person, just with different hats. Kurt and I go to see the same movies because we are one and the same. Then we have differing opinions on said movies just to mess with you.
I'm pretty sure this is true. Or maybe the trailers that I saw before The Men Who Stare at Goats got to me.
Before I get into this, I want to remind you that I will not tolerate any Snuggie haters. Snuggies are awesome and if you can't deal with my luxurious, ultra-soft fleece, get out of the kitchen. Or off of my couch. Whatever. I'll cut you and your trapped hands.
Well, not really, but in a viral promotion video for a short film collaboration between the two, Jonze answers the eternal question that Rick James reportedly posed to Charlie Murphy one night, long ago, in the China Club. That question, of course, being, "What did the five fingers say to the face?"
Before Harry Potter took over the world, there was a small, made-for-TV movie based on a series of children's books called The Worst Witch. It featured some well-known British actors (Diana Rigg and the fabulous Tim Curry) and a young, up-and-coming actress named Fairuza Balk. HBO started playing it throughout October in the mid-to-late 80s and it was an instant favorite of mine.
A few weeks ago, I invited you to peruse the first episode of HBO's latest comedy Bored to Death. I watched it, as well, and I found it...okay. First episodes are always kind of awkward in their expository nature, so it often takes at least two episodes for me to determine whether or not I like a show.
Also, I realize that I tend to get a little fetishistic about HBO shows (I'm pretty sure I was the only person who like John from Cincinnati and am one of maybe a dozen people who laments the abrupt cancellation of Carnivale), but I'm telling you: Bored to Death is really good and I'm worried that not enough people are watching it.