paranormal activity: a review from someone who cares

i finally watched the efficiently titled paranormal activity, an $11,000 indie effort that wants to utilize the post-modern first person pov camera technique to tell the tale of a doomed couple and the unearthly presence that won’t let them be. i wanted to love it. i thought i would love it. considering the hype, i expected paranormal activity would at least equal blair witch project. however, this film has got to be one of the most boring and predictable horror movies of the year. how many times can a door creak? how many times can you hear booming foot steps? how many times can someone wake up screaming? overhyped to the point of hysteria and lacking anything remotely redeeming for the seasoned fright fan, paranormal activity is all smoke and one too many mirrors. it’s an accurate reflection of an audience incapable of separating truth from trickery, a waste of time in both concept and execution.

i certainly respect filmmakers who can make a movie for less than $11,000 — kudos to them. but; the more the film amps up the action, the less scary and involving the movie becomes. we´ve already established beyond any shadow of a doubt that there´s a demon, so what´s so frightening about seeing its powdery footprints or its shadow more than an hour into the movie? inevitably the film winds up in generic horror territory with the shrieking and the thrashing and the "oh my gods!".

the movie also raises some nagging questions. exactly how do these two lovebirds keep falling asleep so easily when they know there´s a freaking demon haunting them? why does micah need to keep proving that there´s a demon when he´s already proven it multiple times? (answer: because we have to fill out 90 minutes of screen time.) and most perplexing of all, how did this idiot end up with such a hot girlfriend?

the hand-held style of filmmaking does not bother me. sometimes it creates an atmosphere of tension. but, in paranormal it was an atmosphere of irritation. in order to keep an audience engaged with this realism style of shaky camera angles, you need consistent drama and a building of suspense that results in a climax — this wasn’t the case.

sorry. the emperor is naked. it was just an OK indie horror film with more shaky camerawork. is this really the highest standard we can set? there´s a lot to like here. just not enough.

dev jop's day off

after a stressful rollercoaster ofa week, i took a little day off to let off some steam. but i'm soooo high strung right now the ants in my pants had me seriously restless. so instead of just sitting here i...............


got up in the morning and went online before getting my caffeine fix

asked to borrow someone's pencil. then broke it in half

went into 'christian chat' and typed 'jesus sux!' then made my escape

went to the movies, sat in the third row wearing an extremely tall hat

talked on the phone with the same person i was sending an instant message to

pushed every button on the elevator when it was full. then laughed hysterically

stood silent and motionless in the corner, facing the wall, without getting off

called the psychic hotline from my cell phone and asked if they knew what floor i was on

ended my sentences with.....three or more periods.......

tried to hold up a gas station with a squirt gun

told mr officer i couldn't reach my license unless he held my beer

went into 'teenage depression' message boards, and told everybody what a great day i was having

ordered caviar at mcdonald's

ask people outside the door if they know where the local mcdonald's is

demanded to speak with that ronald mcdonald

got banned from mcdonald's as a result

told everyone that i'm related to the president

got fed up using the internet and tested what happens when you put a magnet next to the computer



phew! i think i deserve another miller

she dont put out, let her have hell

To the Girl I met at the bar last night (west)

Reply to: pers-855738396@craigslist.org [?]
Date: 2008-09-26, 3:30AM EDT



Hey tanned, tall blonde, aka future skin cancer victim, it's the 'asshole' (your words) who you spent time with last night.

I have a reason for cumming on your face, taking a dump in your bathroom, and then stealing your alcohol.

First, your vagina smells horrible. Get that checked, seriously, they have solutions for that. I woke up with morning wood, and was toying with the idea of waking you up for some play, but then I vaguely remembered how bad my fingers smelled, and decided to just take care of myself. It's customary for a guy to give a girl breakfast after spending the night, and that was yours. Which leads me to the next thing.

I took that dump on your bathroom floor because I knew it was going to be a huge one, possibly almost record setting, and I didn't want to clog your toilet. Plus, I wasn't sure how freaky you are, and thought you might enjoy a nice, high-fiber log as part of your breakfast, in addition to your protein-filled appetizer.

Lastly, I didn't STEAL all of your alcohol, we DRANK the Patron last night. Hell, you were drinking 3 shots for every 1 I took. You should thank me for not letting you get alcohol poisoning. God damn. I haven't seen a girl drink that much tequila since that time I got crabs in Tijuana. I took your 12 pack of Natty Ice because I felt you were going to abuse it in the future, and wanted to prevent you from ending up in the emergency room with a tube down in your stomach.

Looking back, I think I enjoyed my self a lot more alone, with your unconscious body, than I could have with you being active. I got my rocks off while providing you with breakfast, took a nice healthy dump without clogging your toilet, while leaving you a hearty meal on your bathroom floor. Then I was worried about your little alcohol problem, so I prevented you from having another bad night and possibly a trip to the hospital, while getting some ammo for my next night out on the town.

In the end, your morning definitely could have been a lot worse, and my night could have been a lot better.

you lose, you lose

actually you didn't jess, and that's hilarious



what if others followed suit?







but the biggest loser issssssssssssssss......
lohancumcrackwhore!!!!!!!!!
*applause*



you're so silly

i decided we wasn't gon speak so why we up 3am on the phone????

i would like to say that dealing with an ex is easy. well, NOT. my ex as nice, friendly, and involved as he appears, gives such a false perception to other people.

i am sure he has his own insight and yes there are always two sides to every tale, but this is my blog, let him get his own blog.

dude was beyond bipolar. he's tripolar. i mean this is the only guy i know that can literally have a health power shake in one hand, a crackpipe in the other hand and reading the bible at the same time. he was a mess.

this has been going on for yearsssssssss. i met him in 2000, and little did i know what i was getting myself into. i knew he had inner problems and i always tried my best to help him, love him, care for him, etc. for some reason, i was still in love with that guy i first met and it took a loooong time for me to forget about him, to get over him completely.

and every time i'll try to move on, he'll be there...following me. he's now in atlanta and we haven't seen each other in forever, thank the freaking universe. but even though i've blocked him on myspace and facebook, changed my phone number (well, planning to), my e-mail, he still finds a way to contact me.

before, i'll actually give him the chance of talking, of explaining whatever he needed to explain. it always ended the same: arguing and immense bullshit. he has always tried to ruin my relationships in certain ways as well (emotionally cause he was my first and last boyfriend), and the impact he's had in my life has been tremendous. i've learned so, so much through my experiences with him (both good and bad). so, i'm thankful for that.

but sometimes i wonder if all that pain was worth it. i've forgiven him (kinda), i've tried to reason with him but all goes to shit. i've told him a million times how i feel and he never understands that i want him out of my life forever.

now.........after almost six months of not communicating, here he is again. making another profile and sending me message(s) titled "well hello!," and "please read." i'm so, so fucking tired of him and i wish he just disappeared from the face of the earth.

why? why can't he just leave me alone? why doesn't he just go away and live his own life? i know those answers are probably obvious and already answered, but they still roll around in my head over and over again.

i effin' hate it.

now, i keep telling myself, NEVER AGAIN.

thank you for reading.

out with the old

in with the new

r.i.p hott neighbor hellrooo methylbenzoylecgonine

feeling a bit lackluster, writing-wise but i thought this picture was worth posting:





not much has been happening lately, work is going and busy, and i am just somehow uninspired to rant about bitchy l.a. girls, or washing the floor, or incompetant coworkers, or tomato vespers, or the accidental porn.....sigh.

maybe it is the cold-hot-cold weather but i have not been very motivated, energetic or engaged over the last 2 weeks.

a list of things to run to that will give you a jolt when things are feeling "blah":

exercise, then

5 hour energy, then

ben-gay on your balls,then

babysit 3 kids for five minutes, then

fight your way through sunset, then

streak through the ron hubbard center, then

light hair on fire freebasing cocaine, then

organize abstract house night at the lacma, then

copulate with your computer to completion, then

start typing

notorious: a review from someone who cares

those trailers on youtube may look promising, but don't believe the hype. "notorious," a biopic about the life and death of notorious b.i.g., feels like biggie's wikipedia page reformatted for the big screen. no era of the iconic brooklyn rapper's 24 years goes untouched, making a frustrating dash from the playground to the grave, all in less than two hours.

notorious suffers from biopic-itis, that regrettable tendency to reduce complicated lives to a greatest-hits assemblage of melodramatic highs and agonizing lows. the performances are a mixed bag. naturi naughton captures lil' kim's strange combination of brazen sexuality and unexpected vulnerability, and woolard has expressive, fluid eyes and a melancholy air that belies his mountainous physique and brash charisma. the usually unimpeachable bassett is saddled with the film's hoariest hood-movie clichés in the form of overwrought speeches about the dangers of street life. in spite of a handful of stellar performances and infectious wall-to-wall music that conveys the wit, musicality, and verbal dexterity of b.i.g.'s oeuvre, notorious feels depressingly like a vh1 tv movie.

if this all sounds sketchy and unrevealing, so’s the movie, which seems more interested in drawing a largely sympathetic and superficial portrait in a flashy style than in providing any serious insight. in the process it fails to explain, or even lay out with great precision, what’s happening at various times, and what the import of it was—simply to follow the story, it’s really necessary to study up and bring some background knowledge to the picture with you. a great rapper deserves a great biopic, but b.i.g. fans will have to settle for this merely passable one.


maybe in 70 years, when all those involved in the story are dead and the truth can finally be told, a more incisive, less glorifying film can be made of the notorious b.i.g. with notorious, despite energetic performances from woolard, naughton and mackie and a vibrant soundtrack, all we get is a factory-issue biography, making little allowance for the quirks of the actual life story it's telling.

idle hands spend time at the genitals, and you know how much God hates that

i keep seeing this guy walk'n around.
i dunno, he just keeps turning up.

wrath of someoe drinking glasses filled with hateraide: 2008 edition

1. twilight

this book is about vampires. this book is about a girl named, yes, isabella swan. (stop snickering. i haven't even started.) this book contains many, many ellipses. and for you parents of teens out there who are worried about your daughters becoming engrossed in a vampire love saga, let me quell your fears. this book contains no sex. that's right. no sex. which begs the question: is this actually a vampire novel?

2. the price of beverages in vending machines

i’m sorry, but it doesn’t cost $2.75 for a bottle of coke, especially with an exclusive deal with coca cola.

3. dane cook / george lopez / blue collar comedy

maybe my level of sophistication is beyond what it would have to be to find any of these guys funny, maybe they are just stupid. either way, i truly hate their “comedy”. when i was a child, i would find physical humor to be funny, but i also used to tight roll my bugle boy jeans and listen to milli vanilli. i grew up.

in the same vein of maturation, i outgrew my enjoyment of stereotypical humor. it doesn’t make me draw comparisons and bring me closer to different cultures. if anything, it accents the differences and fuels the fire of racial tension. it’s not the kind of thing that i choose to celebrate or laugh along with. F.Y.I. if you are within earshot of jeff foxworthy saying, “if you…..you might be a redneck”, then there is no “might” about it.

4. unimaginative local newspaper headlines

come on, that's not a headline, that's just the first sentence of the article in a really big font. and OK, i appreciate you have to be sensitive with these things, but a little pun isn't going to hurt anyone, is it?

i'm thinking 'meat head,' i'm thinking 'chop shop', i'm thinking 'heads will roll.' i don't know, not my job. but give me something.

5. hollywood

i resent your stars for acting as if their opinions are well-informed or even significant; i resent your publicists for convincing the public that this is in fact the case. but most of all i resent your producers for bankrolling space chimps and beverly hills chihuahua.


6. bravo’s cookie cutter tv shows

did any of you ever have the toy where you could interchange a doll’s hair, torso, and lower body? regardless, it seems that the executives of the tv network bravo have taken this approach to developing shows. they have a hit with project runway, but it doesn’t mean that i want to have “formula a” applied to every new show that comes along. granted, it’s fine for top chef, but that make me a supermodel show is just a whip. i can’t wait to see how jessie spano, i mean elizabeth berkley (cough, cough, SHOWGIRLS!) does when bravo applies the formula to dancing. will i watch this show? i highly doubt it. now if they decide to apply “formula a” to hot guys working out, then i’ll most definitely pull a 180 concerning my feelings towards the formula.

the other formula that they utilize is to make a reality show out of the most uninteresting things. i don’t care about housewives in california, housewives in new york, personal trainers, or millionaire matchmakers. i do, however, enjoy watching shows about male hairstylists that cry during every show (blowout) and gay real estate flippers (flipping). unfortunately, neither of those shows is on right now. so that’s why i hate bravo’s “formula b” right now.

7. miley cirus

her overabundant use of peace signs.
she sounds like a man.
her youtube videos are incredibly stupid and pointless.
she’s a closeted hoe.
she can’t count.
she brings religion into everything.
she won’t come out of the closet...

8. the amount of garbage dry cleaning makes

staples, tickets, we ♥ our customer hanger wrappers, the hangers themselves, plastic bags.

9. the jonas brothers

before you freak out, understand this: i like the Jonas Brothers. in fact, i love the guys. i love that a group that admits openly that they're christians has gained such popularity, and given pre-teen music fans clean music and christian role models.

but i hate the jonas brothers commercial empire.

they're treated like little more than money-making machines. right now, these guys open their mouths and dollars falls out, and the label execs will ride that train as long as it has steam. i don't like watching teens being treated like commodities.
the focus on making money over artist growth breeds mediocrity. ok, so they have a couple of catchy songs on their albums and whatever they're doing certainly drives young girls crazy. but did you see them perform on the finale of "so you think you can dance?" they sounded off key and looked like they were on stage for the first time. lack of talent? it's hard to tell, since their only job right now is bounce around on stage and drive girls crazy.
i am also glad that i don't have a pre-teen living in my house - because there's no telling what kind of mental state i'd be in if i had to listen to the jobros all the time. i grew up on "puppy love." "mmbop," i could hande. but "bb good?" not so much.


and most importantly

10.

your friend and humble narrator commenced another year without being asked on even ONE date

like really guys?

REALLY?????????

it's not so bad

go go gadget optimism!

i put two and two together, and decided that you're pissing me off

this dude back where i worked at the, uh, styrofoam peanut factory, like he converted the toilet into like a bong, and you just sort of put your face over the seat. it was pretty badass. i went in there, someone had used a number two, so i fish it out, load it up. gotta do something to get through that shift. later on, when i became an adult, i was thinkin', you know, "that's gross," but, man that bathroom was so awesome in high school

moderation for the nation

my body is a temple. unfortunately for me, it is the temple of doom.

indiana jones wouldn’t be able to sort this mess out! i don’t have anything resembling a 6 pack. i have a small(ish) brewery for a stomach.



“drink in moderation”. the phrase sends a spine tingling sensation down areas that aren’t even my spine. ho-kay, so sometimes it feels nice and makes me happy, but we are getting away from the point here. it is a phrase that is all too often used by those who have no real grasp on reality that tell you to not do one thing and then go gorge themselves on gnomes.

via the informative medium i call “my sister”, can i offer this snippet of information to anyone that tells you to drink in moderation:

moderation? absolutely! according to the dictionary, it means “ensuring consistency and accuracy and eliminating extremes.”
therefore if you remain consistently and accurately drunk whilst eliminating the extremity of sobriety, no one can moan at all.

i hope that is of some help to you in putting someone who needs it in their place.

if you scratch my back, i will eat your sandwich.

i hate advertisements. but, because god hates kittens, especially the really cute ones, they are a part of our every day life and we can't escape them.

so as you can't escape them, then at least have an input into what you would like to see.

yesterday i was doing stuff. it was fun. when i say fun, i mean mind numbingly boring. and while being mind numbingly bored, i had a misfiring synapse that stimulated a part of my brain seldom used, thus giving me a genius idea of untold proportions…which has probably been thought of a thousand times over.

over time, fertilisers…erm…advertisers will need to come up with more and more ideas to keep us interested (and when i say interested, i mean to watch the TV ads rather then jamming a fork in your eye during the ad breaks). so i have one. advertise a totally different product to the one you are selling.

genius huh?!

but stay with me. this is not as mad as it seems. say for instance a kebab shop. no person with a sober brain generally eats kebabs. but once the wonders of alcohol are introduced in to the system, it is kebabs all round. you can't possibly advertise a kebab to a sober person, but a person with a love for alcohol…well…

this could work on so many different products. unfortunately, all the ones in my head seem to revolve around alcohol.

kebab shops - advertise beer. show a before alcohol shot of the kebab, then a “several pints later on the walk home” shot. that same kebab now has a sparkly glow and is being eaten by a bikini clad woman.

fatty foods (bacon, sausages etc) - advertise beer. get in to the mind of the viewer how good that next morning fry up is when you have breath like a randy elephant.

even makers of bread can get in on this. advertise beer. show how good a bacon roll looks the next morning, or how when you go home but not via the kebab shop, that jamming a ton of carbs in your body before you lay down ready for the room to spin can have good effects on your overall well being.

the list is almost endless.

he was a quiet man

i am so lucky to have blog readers who think i'm cooler than i really am.

i was the shy kid at school.
i am still the shy kid as an adult.
but i fight it every day.

Got to Give It Up - Marvin Gaye

i relish in solitude. i know that a majority of our personalities came already programmed when we were born, but i believe that you can learn the skills necessary to compensate for interactions in the real world. when i was young my parents would excuse my behavior by telling others "well, she is just shy". i began to accept it, claim it, and hide behind that label. i now mask it well, i am a careful listener, ask great questions and can chat with anyone, anytime. i had to develop this skill in order to survive with a career in the public eye. most who have recently met me would never know how truly difficult social situations are for me. i now try to sieze the opportunity not only to seek out others who i do not know, but to gently begin training myself in the art of friendship and conversation.

if only it were so easy

it could go like this:
me: "hi, i'm devin, want to go shopping?"
stranger: "sure. let's be best friends."
me: "okay."
end scene.


well, maybe not. that would actually be pretty weird.

police nabbed my dad

black don't crack

just kidding

praise santa

christmas always triggers nostalgia from some movie in your youth

what was it for you?

did you totally want an official red ryder, carbine action, two-hundred shot range model air rifle, with a compass in the stock and 'this thing' which tells time?

do you shed a tear remembering the moment uncle drosselmeyer fixes the nutcracker?

when i think of christmas............

i hope you like pain

seven pounds: a review from someone who cares

muccino, who balanced humor and pathos so well in happiness, goes too heavy on the melodrama this time, at the expense of practically any other emotional shadings.

the intrigue of putting the clues of the plot together is fun in the beginning but becomes tedious midway through. the whole thing ends in what's meant to be a spectacular act of selfless generosity -- but really plays as mad, messianic egoism.

muccino lays on the melodrama so thick that i felt like i needed a shower by the end, and instead of shedding a tear, i couldn't wait to get out of the theater.
....a well-intentioned misfire. give smith credit for taking chances, but that's an A for effort, not for the actual film.

go home roger

thinkin' bout another pet peeve of mine.

you know when your GROWN ASS starts whining about how someone bit your steez. you were saying that first, wearing it first, being gay first etc.

who really cares

the only reason people ever get mad is cause the other person is doin' it better, or there's money being made without you being a part of it

personally, i agree that imitation is the greatest form of flattery.
the group smashbox once claimed they don't really listen to other music to keep their work original. guess what???????

THEY SUCK

who's going around talking bout how warhol was a sycophant par excellence of his time?

me

but i'm a total hypocrite