Thank you for bearing with me while I was on vacation. I had a great time in the woods fighting bears and building log cabins while watching the Olympics and drinking scotch.
Today, I got to celebrate my return to Chicago by watching another Roger Corman movie.
Feels like home.
Shitty, boring, terrible home.
Sorry about last week, guys. It was Dillo Day. You know how these things go.
And if you don’t, it’s pretty much what you’d expect from a college holiday named after a random-ass animal.
To make up for it, I’m going to have something special for you next week. For now though, we have Red Banshee, and Cherry 2000.
It’s solidly that time of year now where it’s uncomfortable to hang around your home or apartment without socks or slippers on. In the spirit of that, I chose a nice warming beer, and a wintry movie.
It was kind of a picturesque night at the beers and b-movies HQ, still and silent. The purply darkness of the winter evening seeped in through the windows, peaceful, covering me with a pleasant coolness, swaddling me. As the lights dimmed and I sat by the soft glow of the television, it was as if the whole room was frozen in time. Perfect. Untouchable.
I was like, fuck that noise.
So I cranked up the volume on the TV until the fragile stillness of the night was completely shattered and replaced by the screams of Swedish vacationers, the grunts of Nazi zombies, and my own outbursts of “Oh shit!”.
Much better.
Mother Nature is confused, apparently.
The weather here is ridiculous. Chicago didn’t get the memo that it’s winter, and it’s messing with my mind. I had my fucking air conditioner on today. I couldn’t help myself. I had to watch a shark movie. And, I guess, drink a shark beer?
Jesus. 40 degrees in January does strange things to a man.
I’ve been waiting on this one for a while.
It was an odd decision to review this movie. On one hand, it’s a pretty high-budget foreign film, so, like Crank, it’s not really a B-movie.
On the other hand, it’s called Kung Fu [fucking] Dunk.
I’m not proud of the decisions I make sometimes, but I rarely, if ever, have regrets.
I’m only sorry that my choice to show up naked and drunk to my ex-girlfriend’s thanksgiving dinner party to beg her to take me back got me shot with tranquilizers and charged with drunken and disorderly conduct, for which I was held without bail for 2 months.
Now that that unpleasantness is over, I can get back to drinking alcohol and watching horrible movies.
Today is Halloween, which means that the next 24 hours will be filled with copious amounts of alcohol, candy, and law enforcement, at least if previous experience has taught me anything.
In the interest of not spending Thanksgiving in jail for a drunken disorderly, I figured it might be nice to curl up with a nice beer and a slasher flick and take it easy for the night.
Wrong choice.
Oh wow, look at this guy, following up on his promises. Almost like he’s trustworthy or something. What’s up with that.
Anyway, here’s a beer made by priests and a movie that stars one.
So tear into a box of communion wafers and pour yourself a shot of holy water, and join me after the jump.
So I haven’t been here for a while. Sorry about that, but that’s over now. You know I’m here for you, baby. And because I like ya, a lot, in addition to a timely update a week from today, you get two posts tonight.
And one is epic. And not overused-internet-epic, I mean epic in the Homeric sense.
Like if the Iliad starred two buddies that spoke in high-fives and pop culture references.
What better way to restart this blog than with an explosion of alcohol, meat, and friendship?
Let’s get this thing started again. Again.
Don’t call it a comeback. I never left. And like the Terminator, I’m back. Also like the Terminator, I’m confused, naked, and have an unnatural urge to ride a motorcycle.
Let’s get this thing started again.
