Movie Etiquette

After years of being irked, in the words of Howard Beale embodied by Peter Finch, "I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore."

It is time that I deliver the 9 Movie Theater Commandments. I have seen hundreds, most likely closing in on a thousand films in theaters all over the country. From Reno, Nevada to Hilton Head, South Carolina. From New York, New York to Boise, Idaho. I have seen films in the large chain multiplexes to small art house cinemas. I like to think that besides seeing the films and learning something or other about the human condition I have also learned and mastered what it takes to enjoy and allow others to enjoy a film on the big screen. So without further ado, I present the 9 Movie Theater Commandments.

9. Please save the make out sessions for the car or a hotel. I do not need to hear two people sucking face while I'm trying to focus on the complicated plot of Inception. Yeah, it was funny on Seinfeld during Schindler's List, but that was a sitcom. In real life, stay in the parking lot and save twenty bucks.

8. I was in a sold out showing for Dinner for Schmucks and there was actually someone complaining to theater staff that her and her friend's seats were stolen. Saving seats is not illegal at the movies. It is a fact of life. But to avoid an incident like the one involving the schmucks, clarity is the best quality. Leave at least one friend to stand guard over the seats. Items of clothing are best used when distributed equally and visibly over the seats in question. And never respond to "Are these seats taken?" with something like, "Haha, uh huh. They are. Next time try working on your punctuality, movie geek." They might have really big friends who steal your friends' seats.

7. No throwing food. In the dark, and while sitting down, that big headed dork in front of you could be a Jersey Shore castaway tweaking on PCP. And those pieces of popcorn you threw at him could resemble napkins thrown up into the fan at D'Jais and then he starts fist pumping and hits you and ten other people and ends up ruining the movie for everyone.

6. If you have an annoying laugh please try to control yourself. If you don't know that you have an annoying laugh, chances are none of your friends want to sit next to you during a comedy, and the one who gets stuck next to you never ends up enjoying the movie. So please, do all of the movie watching public a service and save the comedies for movie nights at home.

5. I don't care what ethnicity a person is because this is not directed at any one race. I have seen people of all races and creeds who are guilty of this. With that said, stop asking questions or making suggestions to the characters on the screen. They cannot hear you and will never answer you. The only thing your questioning and suggesting does is annoy the hell out of the people in the theater and make you look and sound like an ignoramus. And if you are one of these people, an ignoramus is an idiot.

4. Pee before the film starts. If you need to go, I'm only letting you by twice; once to go and once to come back. Any more than that and I just might push you over the row in front of me.

3. Don't put your bad parenting skills on display by bringing your seven and eight year olds to see Predators. You're a horrible parent, and possibly a horrible person, and you are keeping the door to your kid growing up and becoming a mass murderer that much more ajar than it probably already is. Save yourself and society by checking out Toy Story 3 instead.

2. Nothing rips me out of a movie trance more than a damn text message or ringtone. How can you not realize that everyone within earshot and eyeshot wants to tear that phone out of your dead, rigor mortis-ed hand (they've all killed you) and shove it "where the sun don't shine." Silence is golden and darkness is preferred.

1. Babies. Everywhere else, cute as can be. In a darkened movie theater, a crying baby makes baby punchers out of nuns. Get a babysitter. Call your mom. Leave a bottle in the crib. Roll down the car windows. Give the bum on the corner a fifth of Jack and tell him you'll be back a little later. I don't care. Just don't bring the infant into the movie theater. It shows a complete lack of class, respect, upbringing, couth, caring, parenting, money, responsibility, sense; you name it.

Incoming Nuptials

Check out our Wedding Website. It's taken up my blogging time, but it has been well worth it. Below there are two pages from our site cut and pasted to the blog.

Weddingwire.com/warrenandalyssa

Wedding website 2 - weddingwire.com/warrenandalyssa

1. How do I pronounce the groom's last name? I'm glad you asked this question. I have been dealing with this problem my entire life and I continue to fight the good fight. My last name is Heede. You pronounce the last E. So phonetically speaking, it is Heedy or Heedee or He Dee. 2. What is the bride's first name? a) Alice b) Alyssa c) Alicia d) Beth If you answered b) Alyssa, you are right. Any other answer gets you dis-invited. 3. Why Pennsylvania? Because Skytop is a castle and I consider myself a prince and Alyssa is my little princess and that is what princes and princesses do. They get married in castles. 4. What is the groom's shoe size? Normally, I wear size 13 shoes. Nike runs a little large, so I wear 12 in Nike. Flip flops, boat shoes, and penny loafers all vary so I like to try them on. 5. Why is the groom so much taller than the bride? If I were closer to her height we would have to have a step stool in every room to reach the hard to reach places. Personally, I find step stools to be a waste of money. That's why I grew so tall. 6. What makes Alyssa so darn beautiful? Well, just like the old saying goes little girls are made of "sugar and spice and everything nice." Alyssa is made up of all of that plus a few secret ingredients that I'm not exactly at liberty to discuss. Alyssa would kill me. Plus, I don't know her little secret. She doesn't tell me everything. My theory is that she found the fountain of youth because she still gets IDed everywhere we go and complete strangers think she's fresh out of high school. But that's just a theory. 7. Why isn't Peanut in the wedding party? Peanut is an attention junky. She craves the spotlight and needs everyone's eyes on her. Since Alyssa and I want most of the attention at our wedding on us, with an 80/20 split favoring Alyssa, that leaves no attention for Peanut. She would never be okay with that. Peanut would undoubtedly make some sort of scene and have to be escorted from the premises by Skytop police. Since we plan on avoiding all of this drama, Peanut is not even invited. Sorry Nut. 8. Why do I go to the movies so often? Alyssa is a cinephile. I need to go to the movies in order to keep the relationship going. There is nothing I can do to curb Alyssa's love of film. I find her love and knowledge of movies to be quite alluring. 9. What is Rambo's first name? a) Ken b) Frank c) John d) Herbert The answer is c) John. If you answered this question wrong, you are not a true patriot. You need to stand up and say the Pledge of Allegiance and hum The Star Spangled Banner. Afterwards, you will be allowed to rejoin the wedding guests. 10. How was I able to land such a catch as Alyssa? Luck and timing and the stars aligned, I told a great joke and my hair looked really good that day, my clothes were freshly pressed and the odor eaters were working overtime. Besides all of that, Peanut didn't growl at me, I remembered the Axe, I brushed my teeth three times that day, there was plenty of change in my pockets, my political views were quite moderate at the time, and the sun was shining too. I'm sure some or all or none of the above had something to do with it; haven't really figured it out yet.

Wedding Website - weddingwire.com/warrenandalyssa

Our story begins one stormy lightning-filled night when Alyssa tried to set me up on a blind date with one of her friends. I didn't actually believe this to be the case and really thought she just wanted to see me. Turns out, I was absolutely wrong. She was trying to set me up with a friend. I showed up to Maxwell's where Alyssa was chilling and gallivanting with her friends. She tried to get me to talk to her friend and I was caught completely off guard because I thought her text to me about wanting me to meet her "friend" was code. I humored Alyssa with this "blindsiding" date for a while, but sadly, I was more interested in Alyssa. Sadly for her friend that is :-)

So I walked Alyssa home that night and we laughed and smiled and got drenched in the rain. Until we got into a taxi that is; unfortunately, that sped up the walk home significantly. Alyssa still regrets getting into that taxi because she was enthralled with my life story.

That was the start of something beautiful and fuzzy. Next up on the holiday party list was Halloween. I was in a bit of a jam because I didn't have a costume picked out. Alyssa had been preparing for this holiday for weeks. She was dead set on winning the costume contest at Onieal's. She was stunningly dressed as Kat Von D. I didn't have the slightest clue as to who that was. Some tattooed girl on the TLC channel. Why would I know that? Anyway, back to my tale.

Thankfully my mother, the sweetest lady ever, (tied with Alyssa's mom) decided she would help me out with my costume. With only a mere two hours until I needed a costume I was in dire straits. Finally, I had a brainstorm. Justin Timberlake from his infamous SNL music video, "____ in a Box". Now, being tied for sweetest lady in the world, my mom would never willingly participate in creating such a distasteful get up. She needed to be tricked. So I tricked her. I had her wrap the box and I did the rest myself.

To make a long story short, my mom was disgusted by what the costume turned out to be. Alyssa found it to be hilarious. And to top it all off, I won first prize at Onieal's and took home a gift certificate that served to pay for one of our first official dates. Thanks mom.

It was an unforgettable Halloween. The first of many.

Timber : More than a Dog

Losing a pet is never easy. Especially when that pet has been a member of the family for a decade. Timber started out as a dog Leanne and Mom impulsively bought when Dad was away on a fishing trip with Connor and Ryan and I was off at college. Dad was not pleased, to say the least, when he arrived home to see a white German shepherd standing on the couch filling up the living room picture window. He always joked that on seeing Timber when he drove into the driveway, he made the comment, "there's my boat." He went on to get a boat, but with mom and Leanne's purchase, he gained a friend. Leanne's ongoing complaint of Timber was that he was her dog but he liked Dad better than her. With Leanne being away at college for 4 years and Mom never very appreciative about the hair Timber left all over everything he came in contact with, Timber, perhaps instinctively, gravitated toward Dad. They kept the same hours, with Dad waking up before the ass crack of dawn and Timber there with him when he went out to get the paper. Dad also had the tendency to give Timber his leftovers. So of course the dog made the right choice.

Anyway, it is with a heavy heart, but one filled with fond memories, that I make a top ten list of moments shared with Timber, our family dog. (Family members were consulted for their thoughts)

10. The first time I met Timber. I came home from college for a long weekend and in the family room I waited for Timber to come in. When he did, he was a wild man on crack in the body of a dog. He ran so many laps around the room that not only was I dizzy from watching him, I was also exhausted. I have never, til this day, seen a dog with more energy.

9. If Timber was a human, he would have made a fantastic landscaper. In the second half of his life, Timber was so attached to Dad that he had to be outside if Dad was outside. And when Dad mowed the lawn, Timber followed him. Right behind him. When Dad reached the end of the yard and turned around, Timber did the same. He kept pace with Dad for the entire mowing session.

8. Timber kissing a coyote. Amazing things happen on good old Amaryllis Ave. One being that a coyote was roaming the street for a day. The coyote was in our backyard and Timber wanted to get outside to say hi. When he was mistakenly let out, the coyote jumped the fence, only to turn and attempt to stare Timber down. Timber, never one to be bashful, ran up to the fence and got nose to nose with the coyote. It was like he was meeting a long lost relative.

7. Timber, as scary and intimidating as he appeared when he was barking like a rabid mutt on the other side of the living room picture window, was a sweet heart and anxiety stricken. Much like babies have security blankets, Timber had his security bowl. Whenever he was nervous about a visitor, his bowl would be in his mouth. And nothing was funnier than Timber trying to be all intimidating by barking while holding the bowl in his mouth.

6. Timber had a nervous bladder. When he was young, he would lose control and pee whenever I would come home. He did this for a number of people. Mostly men. However, throughout his life, Timber held on to this tradition with Aunt Nancy. Even though this habit stopped for me and mostly everyone else, Aunt Nancy still tickled his sphincter muscle because he peed to years each time she came over. So much so that when she came in she would have to run straight to the back door and let him out.

5. Timber destroyed two of his cages. He loved his freedom. More than (insert racial joke). He loved his freedom so much that he figured out a way to break out of his second cage. When we tried to outsmart him with bungee cords, he outsmarted us and broke out with his revenge being pouring Liquid Tide all over the family room. Finally, we resorted to pad locking his cage. This only resulted in him pushing the bottom tray out of the cage which allowed him to walk around the house with the cage on his back. Eventually we gave up on locking him up.

4. Timber and I used to play ball in the backyard when he was younger. He would not stop running after the ball until I gave up or until I felt sorry for him because he was on the verge of throwing up. Anyway, on one such occasion of playing ball, Timber, somehow, stumbled upon a rabbit hole. Only because he couldn't catch the stupid ball and was pouncing all around the entrance of the rabbit hole while struggling to get it in his mouth. One baby bolted out of the nest. It got Timber's attention. The second little bunny wasn't as lucky. Timber just happened to be in the right place at the right time. He caught the little guy in his mouth. And it started screaming in bunny-speak. I freaked out. I tried to pry his mouth open to no avail. I yelled at him with no result. He ran up onto the deck and wanted to go inside while he had this creature in his mouth. I said, "No! Not until you get that out of your mouth!" He understood exactly what I said. So, he swallowed the little bunny whole. I was scarred for life (more like a week) and he was allowed in the house.

3. As a puppy, Timber got into a lot of trouble. He once stole a bottle of Wesson Oil from the kitchen and spilled it in the family room. Then, he thought it tasted so good that he ate the portion of the carpet that was soaked in Wesson. We covered that spot with a chair until we got new carpeting.

2. Leanne scared the poop out of him. Arriving home from a Bar Mitzvah with a crazy sombrero, Leanne ran into the family room. Timber was so frightened that he retreated backwards until he backed into Connor where he proceeded to poop. On Connor. I think he just used to sombrero as an excuse to poop on Connor. He always loved to mess with Connor.

1. Timber loved us. As rough as we played with him he knew his limitations. He would play extremely rough with us. No matter who was playing. But, each time he would go to bite our arms or legs, he would make like he was all ferocious and rabid, but it would be the most gentle bite ever. His teeth would be primed for the biting except he wouldn't bite. It felt more like he was gumming us. And then he would lick our arm or leg and then our faces. We could terrorize him and he would take it. He would lick us, kiss us, jump up on us, and that was it. He knew he was the stronger one in the fight, but he never tried to win the fight. He cared for all of us too much. He loved us so much. He knew when we were sick, or sad. He would be sad whenever any of us was leaving for an extended period of time. But he was never happier when we came home. If I could have one wish right now, it would be that when we get home from vacation, I'd get to see my doggy happy one more time.

MacGruber

If you are in the mood for the best male buttocks and hairy man belly button love scenes ever, go see MacGruber. Is it stupid? Yes. Is it inane? Yes. Childish, moronic, and stupid? Yes to all three. And I intentionally have put stupid twice.

But, it is funny. On SNL, "MacGruber" is a one and a half note joke with the exact same punchline every time. The latest installments have built on each previous minute sketch to add to the funny, but there really aren't any surprises.

MacGruber the movie is chock full of surprises, cameos, and "that just went a little too far" moments. But they all miraculously work. It funny just to hear a character previously forbidden to utter any four letter words, let all the curse words available fly out in unexpected ways.

I mean, Val Kilmer's evil mastermind is named Cunth for Pete's sake. (Hey, Pete, how is San Fran treating you?)

If you are in the mood for a stupid R-rated comedy there's only one man to call. MacGruber!


Heed the Dub

Day ???

It's me again. I do not know how long it has been since my last post on this running thing. I am too exhausted to check the date of the "Day 2" post. Obviously, it has been a while. Sorry.

Here is the update. I was only one half mile behind the leader last week, I think. That was after I had only run about four miles for this dang competition. But the tide has run red with nipple burn. Unbeknownst to me, I was dealing with legit, real deal, "I run at 5am", pro-am 5k competitors.

It was not like I was bragging and boasting, and shouting from the flagpole or over the P.A. system during the morning announcements about my four miles. I wasn't. Seriously. If anything I was downplaying my early boost in the ratings, slightly suspicious of what my opponents were capable of. I was correct to be wary.

As of this morning I was at a meager 11 miles and in third place. There was absolutely no sign of the women in front of me because they have exponentially increased their paces. Over one weekend, one runner, let's call her Sleeprunner, ran like nine miles to take the lead. Myself and Runner 2, let's call her Trackstar, whose idea it was to start this God forsaken, "all for the fun of it", six month marathon, were stunned. But then the next day, Trackstar chalks up four miles for herself and I am left holding the plastic, bronze medal that everyone receives even if they don't finish the race.

I was demoralized and downtrodden to say the least. What was I to do? But a small spark went off in my belly after watching Jack Bauer disembowel a Russian assassin Monday night. That spark grew to a flickering little flame when Jack agreed to accept the responsibility of guarding The Island and drank Jacob's Kool-Aid. And Wednesday when I saw that Sleeprunner was almost at twice my total and Trackstar was only a few behind her, I decided enough was enough.

Then Alys took the wrong train Wednesday and wound up in Glen Rock. She needed a ride back to Nutley. She had crossed the county line over to the Bergen side and was out of her parents' jurisdiction. I was needed and unable to turn my little flickering flame in a fire.

Thursday. Enough was enough. Got on the road and my feet carried me all the way to good ol' River Dell High School. Two miles each way! I was not done. Got back and ran another mile around the neighborhood. Then to vary things a bit, I did a half mile shuffle stepping. The bonfire was a' burning!
Talk about in the zone! I did another half mile and called it a day.

Saving up a little some'in some'in for tomorrow.

Heed the Dub

Iron Man 2

Go see it. It is quite a ride.

Only one complaint: The final showdown at the end with Mickey Rourke's Whiplash ended a little abruptly. I would've liked to see more.


Heed the Dub

House Hunting with a Crazy Critter

Alys and I were house hunting because for some reason we had yet to find a place to call home. We entered a large three bedroom colonial somewhere that afforded a large yard near a wooded area. The tour of the house was going fine. We seemed to be liking it and each room we entered was better than the last. It wasn't until we walked out the backdoor onto a patio that overlooked the verdant lawn and the adjacent wilderness that this house hunt took a turn for the worse.

The small varmint gave no hint of malice at first. He was milling around on the edge of the trees, scrounging the grass for any bits of grub. No ill will at all. Alys and I were far enough away to just point and casually comment on the odor this little beastie would leave behind him, but then the innocuous creature turned and stared. For the briefest of moments I could feel his eyes upon me and I swear I saw him lick his lips. All conversation ceased and then silence. There was a faint sense of a breeze but the leaves remained still and birds no longer chirped.

A stick cracked somewhere off in the woods.

As if it was a starter's pistol, the skunk made a bee line skampering dash in our direction. We snapped out of our momentary freeze frame and turned towards the backdoor. The sound of this ferocious little gargoyle was a mix of a child suffering an asthma attack and a grizzly bear. Quite jarring. I slammed the sliding door as the mad skunk crashed into the glass. Thankfully it held. We shared another eye to eye, man to monster, stare. Then it looked to its left and I swear it smiled.

It took off running and suddenly, it occurred to me that this emmin-effer was going for the garage. The realtor had disappeared conveniently enough, and Alys and I bolted to the door that led to the garage. She hit the button for the door to close as I stood watch. When it finally shut we stood there in silence, questioning each other if this was really happening. A false sense of safety overcame us and we let ourselves relax for about three seconds. Then, there was a scratching noise in the far side of the two car garage immediately followed by a mammalian hiss. I was close to the four door sedan so I jumped in. Alys swung around to the other side of the door leading inside and closed it just enough so that she could still peek out.

The car was hot and leather. I peered out the window, looking out onto the area from which the sound came. I saw nothing. The car had been backed into the spot so through the windshield I could see Alys. She began to shout in a whisper something that I couldn't quite make out. But it wasn't long before I knew what she was trying to tell me. The skunk (don't ask me how) had opened the trunk to the car. I realized this when I heard the little bugger clawing its way through the backseat. As its head popped through the center of the leather backseat, I let out a shriek and stomped on it, sending it flying back into the trunk. I exited the car and met Alys at the door, but the skunk was right behind. It had its best opportunity to land its rabid claws into my legs and its bloodthirsty teeth into my buttocks, but it went for the spray attack.

One of my dream's parameters for skunk attacks was that a spray assault could only be carried out by being immobile. The skunk had to stop to shoot its stench. And his aim wasn't all that accurate. We narrowly escaped by turning the corner into the kitchen, though now, we were in an unfamiliar house that we had only once toured with a rabid skunk deadset on our extinction.

TO BE CONTINUED...


Heed the Dub

Day 2

Ouch. Succeeded in running another mile and a half but at what cost. So to lift my spirits, here is an oldie but a goody.



How do you fit a 500 lbs. man into a size three dress?

Here is a hint.

Take the F out of fat.
And take the F out of weigh.

You are absolutely right. There is no F in weigh.

Get it?


Giggle a little while I ice myself.


Heed the Dub

Day 1

The challenge: Accumulate as many miles as possible running on whatever surface is available. Three teachers have accepted this challenge, all of whom will remain nameless, but I'll give you three guesses to figure out one participant.

A chart has been posted that records miles accumulated in total by all those involved. I joined the competition on Friday and I am already losing. Big time. I did nothing over the weekend, exercise-wise, but it was not my fault. I will accept the blame, however. Walking in today I saw that I, of course, was still at zero, but, more importantly, that my competitors racked up four and two miles respectively. And they are both women. Not that this makes any difference. Except for the fact that I am losing to girls. They mean business. Big time.

I prepared myself for such an arduous challenge the best way I knew how. I exercised a total of zero times over the past six months. For all intents and purposes, I planned on making this challenge every thing it could be and more. Of course I didn't find out about this running accumulation thunderdome game of death until this past Friday, but I knew my lack of physical preparation would come in handy eventually. I have always believed that a man could run a marathon on sheer will and gritty determination, which still could be true, but that man is not me.

Not even close.

I chalked up one and a half miles today on feet that have not seen or heard from my sneakers in months. They haven't called or emailed my feet in the longest time. And my feet are so dang stubborn that they aren't willing to be the ones to make the first move. But through some back channels and some mutual acquaintances, they reconnected. It wasn't easy going until about a quarter mile in but once The Black Eyed Peas Now Generation came one the good ole Zune, they were friends again.

Afterwards, it felt like my calves exploded in my legs. Stairs were now daunting. My hamstrings taunted me with cramps and my lower back spasmed out. And I'm sure my back just wanted some attention because it did very little of anything during the run.

But, tomorrow I get to shade in one and a half boxes. I'm sure my two fellow runners will have more boxes to shade in as well. Putting even more space between us, but I have joined the class of runners once again.

It feels good to be back.


Heed the Dub

Obstacle Course

For students, the passing time between classes is a time to get in some quality time with friends, catching up on old times because it has been 3 periods since they've seen each other. Or it's squeezing in a quick make-out session with a boyfriend or girlfriend because Lord knows this is the only place (the crowded second floor hallway) where the two of them can get any privacy and be alone. Or, if it's the Napoleon Dynamite of the school, it's a mad dash to the cafeteria to be the first to get some tots, scarf them down, and then continue to stare at the wall while his hand unconsciously doodles drawings of Castle Grayskull (update to Pokimon).

It is different for teachers.

When that bell rings and a teacher is actually afforded another class in the same classroom, all is right with the world.

When that bell rings and said teacher needs to vacate the classroom in order to go to another classroom, or even worse, go to the cafeteria for duty (high school students still laugh at this word, duty) it's like the American Gladiator Gauntlet Challenge. And there is a time limit.

Students do not move out of the way for teachers anymore. It is unheard of to get out of a teacher's way. Crowds of students congregate in hordes as if their sole purpose in their adolescent lives is to serve as an obstacle in the gauntlet. Students have the innate ability to sense a teacher on their tail and make a point to hit the brakes abruptly to suck some face in the middle of the hallway. And, if a teacher points out to a few star crossed students that the middle of the senior staircase isn't really the appropriate place to become intimate, how dare that teacher invade their privacy and get all up in their bid-niss.

The backpack gangs are always looking to pull off teacher hit and runs. These are the good students moving faster than they ever do in phys ed, whose backpacks are twice their sizes, and who, I swear, load them with bricks. They are professional hallway Froggers, flying by teachers at breakneck paces, dodging, weaving, and ducking in the smallest gaps possible, but somehow manage to whack at least two educators with each pass. They blindside adults without missing a step. It is an amazing feat to witness.

That's it. Just some observational awareness.

Heed the Dub

A Behanding in Spokane

Christopher Walken is hilarious. He started his career out knee deep in dramatic rolls, but now seems to have made a complete cross over to strictly comedic performances. At first his choices seemed to rely heavily on his unique voice tone and his delivery of lines, but seeing him live on Broadway has convinced me that his weird inflection choices are all conscious decisions. Whether he has just decided to embrace the laughs he receives from how he sounds, or if he has consciously known all these years how funny he can make the most mundane lines sound does not even matter. He is eff-in deliriously funny.

A Behanding in Spokane is a dark dark comedy of the absurd. A man who lost his hand in a horrible accident 47 years ago has been looking for his stolen appendage his whole life. A young couple has an aboriginal hand that they are dying to pawn off. And a hotel receptionist has unresolved issues with his job title and a gibbon from his past. Absolutely absurd.

Joining Walken onstage for this merry-go-round of absurdity is Sam Rockwell, Anthony Mackie and Zoe Kazan. Rockwell and Walken both seem to relish in how outlandish the plot is and bounce off each other, seemingly riffing back and forth, trying to steer the audience around the next unseen curve.

No part has ever fit Walken so well besides, maybe, his character in Pulp Fiction.

This play is rife with foul language, racial slurs, homophobia, grotesque props (amputated hands), and more Walken-isms than you can count. If none of this is too offensive for you, you will have a laugh-a-second good time.


Heed the Dub

Wedding Dream

This was a pretty weird dream. Let me set the scene. For some reason, unbeknown-st to me, the date of the blessed nuptials was moved up to this summer.

It was the day of the union, the morning more specifically. I was being told to get ready and I was all confused. I didn't understand first and foremost why the date had been moved up. I was most concerned about whether or not the bride-to-be was aware of the date change as well. I didn't want to be getting into my monkey suit if the bride wasn't getting all dolled up too.

I remember saying, "Does she even know about this??? She better be getting dressed too because I don't want to be doing this all for nothing!"

I couldn't comprehend why it was nine in the morning and I was getting suited up for a wedding that started at five. It was boggling my dream mind. It seemed so stupid. I was asking about the wedding coordinator and if this date change was her doing or some other shadowy conspirator. There was no explanation to be had even though I was demanding answers.

But there was one concern that I had that trumped all others in the dream. Nothing, not Eydie, the wedding coordinator, who was nowhere to be found, not the bride's awareness of the change in date, and not even me getting my suit on at nine in the morning for a five o'clock ceremony, bothered me more than the fact that I had forgotten something...

my golf clubs!

I was dead set on playing golf that morning, but because of the sudden change with the wedding date, the clubs were forgotten. AHHH!!!


Heed the Dub

Let's Get Schooled

Obviously, teachers can use all the help we can get.

Thanks to everyone who voted to pass the school budgets out there. Education is an uphill battle everyday. Just remember how you, your friends, and/or all the other kids treated your teachers. Square that by ten. You have no idea how many cell phones and Ipods I would love to throw out my second story window. So I thank everyone who voted the opposite of what Fat Fatty wanted. You saved more jobs than you know.

Heed the Dub

Emancipation of Education

So with all the positive energy our dear Governor is supplying the teachers these days, I thought it was time for a wake me up. The Potbellied Govercutter wants to chop a hell of a lot out of school budgets. Times are tough, but teachers have it hard as is.

Besides having the poo storm of cuts coming down from high up on Mt. Olympi-Trenton, teachers still have to tend to the "little pretties" day in and out. That's all of them. Smart ones, semi-smart ones, street smart, book smart, gym smart, lunch majors, lunch minors, the zombies and the malcontents. For those Ferris fans, that includes "the sportos, the motorheads, geeks, sluts, bloods, wastoids, dweebies, dickheads" - teachers have them all.

So, point in case: math teachers put up with some crazy poop. I completely understand why my high school math teacher had more than just coffee in his mug every morning and why he was 3 sheets to the wind by 4th period. If he wasn't he'd have run head first into a wall years before I got there.

After 7 and a half months of teaching Algebra to freshmen, here is a sample of what we deal with everyday. And I put extra emphasis on every

Real Question on a math quiz:

Joe has 7 fish. Every month the fish double in amount. How many
fish will Joe have after 3 months? --Take a second or two. A little math in your head and carry the one, and you get: 56

Actual answers given by students:

a. 36,407
b. 3,524
c. 49x^6
d. 207,351

This is absolutely, 100% true. I saw the quizzes.

Heed the Dub

Kick-Ass

This movie is not for everyone. There are specific requirements to enjoy it. They are a love of:


1. Comic book movies
2. Bloody and Over-the-top action
3. Ten year olds with trucker mouths


This is Spiderman if Spiderman didn't have any super powers, beat the bloody hell out of the bad guys, and instead of using corny insults that just annoy the villains, he tells them to 'go poop themselves'.


This is a fun movie as long as you can handle the absurd. Believe that a well trained ten year old is capable of beating a guy to a bloody pulp and you will love this movie. Believe that a few steel plates and some numb nerve endings are all you need to survive a Louisville Slugger walloping and you will love this movie. Believe that Nicholas Cage purposely sounds like Adam West and you will love this movie.


This is your typical super hero origin story without your typical superhero. Somehow, not having genetically mutated spiders and relying on only one kid's desire to no longer look the other way when someone is in trouble, the film grounds itself so that Hit-Girl's acrobatics and butchery with the blade are believable.













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Rent This!: The Slammin' Salmon

Broken Lizard is back with The Slammin' Salmon. This is definitely a welcome return for Broken Lizard whose Club Dread left a bad taste in some people's mouths (not mine) and whose Beerfest was just a little too goofy for those who didn't spend their college days playing all the drinking games. It isn't a classic like Super Troopers, but you can kind of smell it.

The Slammin' Salmon is the nickname for Michael Clarke Duncan's character, a former heavy weight champion of the world who is now retired and owns his very own restaurant. (a la Rocky Balboa) The Broken Lizard troupe make up his kitchen and wait staff and, as in all of their comedies, all have their own idiosyncrasies flying around in full force. The plot for the film is basic. Slammin' Salmon needs to make $20,000 in one night to cover a betting expense so he entices his employees to push the cod and swordfish like mad and whoever/whomever (throw an English teacher a bone) sells the most at the end of the night wins $10,000. The loser gets a broken rib sandwich.

Mayhem and laughs ensue. Be patient for the first ten minutes or so. The film takes its time getting to the laughs, but as soon as Duncan gets on screen it is on. The Broken Lizards are funny, but the big man steals the show. I don't want to give any of his lines away because it would just be wrong. Needless to say, Michael Clarke Duncan hasn't been this funny since The Green Mile. And I guarantee that if you enjoy this film it will just get better after each viewing.

Remember his accent in this film? L-M-EFFIN-A-O


Heed the Dub

Post 24 Post Lost Life

What am I going to do? I mean, really, what the poo am I to do?!? Where else am I going to be able to satisfy my All-American Hero brave crave after Jack Bauer rides off into the sunset??? Poor Renee (tear, sniffle). Can anyone name a character on TV right now who is any more bad ass than him?

SIDE BAR: if you stopped watching for whatever reason-- Dana Walsh's side story started to suck, e.g.-- I've got news for you: 24 got great again. It is "Gosh-darn-I'm-proud-Jack-Bauer-is-a-fictional-American" great again!

So please let me know, who can supply the same bad-ass-ness each week that Bauer gives each second that dang clock ticks on down? Google me this!

You will be missed, Renee.


LOST. Floating LOST title and all. This one isn't so much of a brain teaser. I've heard good things about Fringe. And V has stoked my attention. But the key to Lost is that it has gotten me to care about those castaways. It's done a better job than Gilligan's Island. Whether they are the Oceanic 6, the "lost" castaways, the 'others', or the other 'others', I care.

Character development, you tricky little "fatherless baby", you got me good. I'm hooked like Homer is to Duff. And for that, eff you. You are my heroin crack speedball fix. If that actually is something that exists. If not, you are my helium balloons. Every Tuesday night all my problems go away. It feels so good...so...good...ahh...


Where am I?? Oh, it's Wednesday. Crap. Strung out from my combined Monday-Tuesday 24-Lost fix again. I do not want to crawl out of a toilet like in Trainspotting!


SIDE BAR: Kate looks pretty hot as a lego.

Help me. Please. This is the first step. Admitting to my addiction. But I need to find another great show (at least one) that can settle my nerves. Shoot me back (I mean up) something that will tuck me in at night and make the demons sing sweet lullabies.



Heed the Dub

IKEA Mario Kart

A trip to IKEA is a real life version of Mario Kart on good ol' Nintendo 64. More specifically, it's like a one lap race at Wario's Stadium. Let me explain.

We went there looking for a rug. Just a rug. Nothing else. So that is the precious lightning bolt that will shrink all other racers. We walk into the store and the arrow is right there on the floor telling us which is the correct direction to move in and just for safety precautions, I grab a map.

And, we're off. Right away I can see my main competition in this race. There is a family of poster children for what the stars of the Jersey Shore are going to look like in 6-8 months. Tats, hair weeves or extenders or whatever they're called and one toddler tricked out in the same Reebok running suit his father(?) is wearing. I say father(?) because there are definitely some quesitonable traits missing from one to the other.

Anyway, Alys and I get out to an early lead and I am confindent that this will be a quick half lap, hit the short cuts to the rugs and then the escalator to check out. Not so lucky. Damn that red-shelled Manstad Gobo couch with matching love seat for $699. We do not have a room ready for any furniture yet, let alone a Manstad Gobo or the Poang birch veneer rocker right next to it.

My little Mario Kart is spinning after getting shelled and The Situation and Mini The Situation zoom by us. We get our act together and start moving. I pull out the map to try and find a short cut when luck would have it my map is in spanish! What the eff??? I wish I knew then what I know now and that is that Camino Corto means short cut. But I didn't know that so I headed to the Salas and the Modulos de Pared. GREAT!

But Future Jersey Shore is stuck checking out the Hasto Chaise and Headrest ($179) and we zoom on by. I actully cut through the entire Chaise section off the beaten path, making my own short cut, and things are looking bright.

Until I have to hit the brakes and make a complete 180. The flashing "wrong way" appears on my screen and there is nothing I can do about it. I head back to find Alys at the Tyda Handle display. Handles for cabinets that we will not be putting anything into and in turn using said handles to get anything out of for at least 2-3 months. J-Woww passes by with her tanned crew in tow.

We grab 12 handles at a bargain price and actually spy a real short cut. We go from Kitchen & Dining right to Children's IKEA! Nothing here that we need so we fly on over to the escalator. Even better news is Snooky and Paulie are tangled up with Mini The Situation's attention distracted by all the kid crap.

Downstairs we get to the rugs, finally. Trouble is they do not have any Strib in stock. We almost pick up two Lusy Bloms, but Alys, bless her heart, thinks twice about it. I check out the Lottorp, Trampa and Ritva, but none of those pass the Alys miss test.

Off to check out where I dodge a Karlskroma on a hand cart that almost takes out my shins. We succeed in hitting the lightning bolt block, shrinking the Jersey Shore and the Desperate Housewives of Bergen County, who made a last ditch effort out of the blue to beat us, and cross the finish line into the parking lot.

Heed the Dub