This is what I see when I am up during the late hours of the night. Not sure what was wrong with this guy, but thanks for the following movies of my childhood:
The Lost Boys
Lucas
License To Drive
Silver Bullet
Fast Getaway
LOS ANGELES -- Actor Corey Haim has died at the age of 38, the Los Angeles Police Department has confirmed to KTLA.
It's believed Haim died at 3:30 a.m. Wednesday of an accidental overdose, police said. He was found unresponsive at an Oakwood apartment, near Burbank, police said. His mother was at the home at the time.
The actor, who has struggled with drug addiction, was pronounced dead Providence St. Joseph's Medical Center in Burbank.
Haim was a teen heartthrob in the 80s and appeared in several movies, including "The Lost Boys" along with fellow teen idol Corey Feldman.
Something strange happened to me today. I was up all night as I usually am, working on website related things. I then eventually got myself into bed to sleep around noon after all my tasks were done. I then have a dream. A place I have not been to in years.
I am in the home of my grandparents in Alabama. For some reason I am in the front yard and my brother Robert and uncle Rob are there too, and they have these digital cameras on tripods. I am not sure what they are shooting. Then they suddenly go inside the house and I am still out in the front yard. They leave these expensive looking cameras just lying out there. For some odd reason they tipped the tripods with the cameras attached, and laid them on their side on the ground. One on the grass and one on the cemented driveway. They just left them there. Why?
I walk into the house through the front door. It looks different. The same... just now there are little differences. I haven't seen, been to, or even dreamed of this place since 2003. I am first to admit that I am horrible with keeping in contact with family, so while this home was familiar to me, some things felt changed and not quite what I remembered.
As I walk in the door I announce aloud that they left their cameras out front and they may get stolen. They seem to not be bothered by that at all, and say not to even worry about it. I turn and look out the window of the den that faces the driveway; the cameras are still there. I walk into the kitchen. It is that same dim kitchen I remember, it always had poor lighting and I remember it being so small. No one is in there, it is clean and tidy, but very very dim and dark. I walk through and into the dining room. It is lit by the old chandelier that has hung over the dining table for years and years. All the bulbs in working order and shining brightly. My grandmother is sitting at the head of the table as she always would during the day. With her ashtray and cigarettes on one side, TV remote for the TV at the far end of the room, and a game of Solitaire in progress on the table before her. Although, now... She is just sitting there looking at the cards. There is still no sign of my brother or my uncle.
Rather than go into the hallway which leads to the back of the house where the rooms are, I walk out the sliding glass door into the back yard. This was always my favorite place to play as a child. This backyard has a huge cement patio that was covered so you could easily be out side in the rain. To the right is my Grandfather's garden where he always grew his own vegetables. In this dream I didn't really look into the garden but I know it's there. No one on the patio. I walk to the left, that leads to the back end of the driveway coming into the back yard and a mysterious utility closet. This closet is the place where my grandfather keeps his tools and projects and many other things I am not aware of. I was never allowed to go in there as a kid, but occasionally when my grandfather was in there he would have the door open I would get a few glimpses of the stuff inside. As I walk by the closet I see that it is open, the door cracked enough to let me see partially what is in there. But still feeling like I did when I was a kid, I respected his privacy and did not enter. I think he was in there. I didn't see him but felt his presence as I passed by the door.
I walk down the three steps off the patio and into the grassy/dusty ground of the back yard. There has always been two structures in the backyard. A large garage-like building called "The Shed" by the family which was painted red and had an old basketball hoop on it. I see it now, it is falling apart, in decay and disrepair and the only thing that seems to be keeping it standing is God's will to allow it to stand. The other structure is a smaller aluminum-built storage shed, called "The little shed". This one seemed to not be in as bad shape as the larger building but still looked weathered and aged.
I used to play behind the sheds as a kid and even befriended the dog in the adjacent yard behind there. I walk back there and I look through the fence. As I stand there and I whistle for the dog, my grandfather comes up behind me and stands by me. The dog finally comes to the fence and I pet him through the chain link. This is not the dog I remember from the other yard. It is Pee-Wee, a dog that belonged to my grandparents along time ago that lived a long and happy life in the backyard. He died and I remember he was buried in the back far corner of the yard. The family loved Pee-Wee and so he was buried in the yard and the grave was marked. Here he is right in front of me, the same kind, sweet and gentle little black dog I remember from my childhood.
I am petting Pee-Wee's head and saying to him as my grandfather stood there with me silently watching, "I have to say good bye now. Because I don't think I will ever see this place again in my life. I am going to miss you." Pee-Wee just looked up at me sweetly and did that thing that dogs do where they lazily blink their eyes and stick their tongue out an inch or two for a second while they are getting affection.
The last thing I remember is the person that lives in the house of that yard on the other side of the fence comes and tries to shoo me away from the fence. My grandfather then touches my shoulder and suddenly he is on the other side of the fence in the other yard. He looks at me and then at Pee-Wee. I wake up.
I woke up three hours ago. I check my phone for calls and emails. There were several missed calls. Texas, Texas, Alabama, Alabama, Alabama, Alabama. One Text from my brother Robert. One email from my father and step mom. The messages all instruct me to call my mother in Alabama. I am fearing the worst. I get a sinking feeling in my gut. My mother tells me that My grandfather is in the Hospital. The family is there with him. He is slowly slipping away. It started with his gall bladder, then pancreas, next the kidney function drops sharply, and his heart is going. It is a matter of time before they put him on life support and he is no longer running under his own steam as his organs are giving up one by one.
My grandparents share one heart. They have been together and in love for decades. When everything in life seemed to disintegrate and fall apart around me or when nothing felt constant or real or hopeful, I would always look to them for hope and security. They were the definition of harmony and teamwork for me. I knew this time would eventually come but I could not help but feel like they will always last forever and how in a life of shifting variables and values they can be the one eternal constant in my life. They never changed. Never Evolved. Never Shifted into a new or different state of existence. Until now.
So I sit here and ask myself as I wipe away my tears, "Why did I dream that and how did I dream that?"
Anytime I see a link or ad for a RED BAND TRAILER, I say... hmm I am either going to hear fuck or see tits. I clicked. The Title KICK ASS was a promising start.
It looks like a movie that doesn't take itself too seriously, pokes fun at the superhero genre, but still manages to deliver on action. This RED BAND trailer opens up with a seemingly sweet scene with father and daughter, when sweet little daughter drops the good ol' F-Bomb with dad. Nice. Then the action and humor look top notch too. Let's see if the whole movie delivers on wowing me like the trailer did.
It's called "KICK ASS" (I am happy that racier titles are becoming commonplace as 20 years ago I would have had my mouth washed out for even saying these titles to my parents... e.g.: Smith's Zack and Miri Make a Porno and Tarantino's Inglourious Basterds)
It stars Nicolas Cage (I guess Popehat won't be seeing this one), Mark Strong (who will be in the upcoming Robin Hood and Green Lantern), Chloe Moretz (500 Days of Summer, Bolt), Aaron Johnson (Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging, The Illusionist) and Christoher Mintz-Plasse (It's mother-fucking MCLOVIN).
Directed by Matthew Vaughn, from a screenplay by Jane Goldman & Matthew Vaughn, and based on the comic written by Mark Millar and John S. Romita Jr. Lionsgate and MARV present a MARV Films / Plan B production.
In Theaters April 16, 2010.
Below is the Red Band Trailer, and under that I have included the longer Green Band Trailer that features all the characters.
If you ever wanted to see a Saturday Night Live All-Star Sketch, here is your chance. Directed by Ron Howard, this political ad is aimed at pushing support for the creation of the Consumer Financial Protection Agency. Whether you are for or against the idea, it is kind of fun to see Several SNL All-Stars (and one In Living Color All-Star) share a sketch. The sketch features Current SNL player Fred Armisen and recent cast member Maya Rudolph as Mr. and Mrs. Obama, Will Ferrell as President George W. Bush, Darrell Hammond as President Bill Clinton, Dana Carvey as President George Bush, Dan Akroyd as President Jimmy Carter, Chevy Chase as President Gerald Ford, and Jim Carrey as President Ronald Regan.
For more info on the Consumer Financial Protection Act of 2009, or CFPA, and what it means to you (The good and bad, make up your own minds) go to:
I felt commentary was necessary on this stuff, first because I am guy and this article was obviously written by a woman and needs translating, and # 2, it’s just begging to be ripped apart, and I have the Eye of the Asshole* this morning.So without further ado, I will take all the knowledge I have garnered via Sitcoms (the original wiki-pedia of relationships) and stand up comedians and apply that information to this list.Should be dead on.
He talks you up to all his friends.Friend of Smitten guys asks, “Hey, you still seeing that same girl.She seems cool.”Smitten guy replies, “Yeah!She’s awesome.Licks my balls and everything!Now spot me, I’m pushing 275 this time.”This more or less encapsulates “Talking up.” to guys.
He enjoys doing the most mundane activities with you.If by mundane task you mean watching me beat down some punks on Modern Warfare 2, then hell yeah, let’s ride that train together.
He'd rather talk to you than watch the latest episode of "24"... at least for now.Talk means blowjob, right?I do have to give the writer credit for putting that “for now” part at the end.You will lose out to explosions sooner or later.Most dudes have mastered the art of filtering out chick voice when something more exciting is happening, plus “24” has lots of action sequences where you can pretend to listen and not miss a major plot point.This could work.
He's not afraid to say, "I love you."No man should be afraid of those words.It’s the fastest way to get in the panties without Tequila.
He misses you. Always.I miss my dog.Always.Your point?This one is a double-edged sword.Missing you becomes thinking about you all the time.That becomes obsessing over what you are doing right now.Like Yoda said, “Obsession leads to anger, anger leads to stalking, stalking leads to masturbating outside your bedroom window, and then the cops show up.”Be careful when encouraging such behavior, ladies.
He takes it for granted that you have a future together.Every guy does this.Every dude assumes that his dick is so magical that you will keep coming back over and over and begging to get a taste of it.Heh…taste of it.Went blue on that one, but it’s more or less true.“She can’t get enough of this.” And points to crotch with the handle end of the croquet mallet I happen to be holding.
He goes the extra mile…for the pussy!ZING!But seriously folks…
He can't get over how beautiful you are.This could be true.But ask yourself something; how often do you do it doggystyle?The part he finds beautiful may not be your face. "He says I am the prettiest girl he has ever known." And guys never lie to keep you happy and bent over the kitchen table. Nope...never lie.
He picks you over the boys.The “boys” don’t usually suck my dick.I mean, there was that one time in Tijuana…but it’s not standard.
He's willing to be a total mush.I was originally going to write “all over you face” but that seemed vulgar and not in keeping with the highbrow satire you are accustomed to reading from me.So I’ll just say this; define “mush”!Is that that stupid baby talk, “Cubbzy wubbzy” bullshit that some guys do when they are euphoric on sex?Or do you mean a mushy pet name?“Hey Sugartits!I miss you.”“How is my little Candy-Poon today?”“This is my girl, Karen, but I get to call her Captain Swallows.”
* Eye of the Asshole is kind of like having the Eye of the Tiger, only it’s not a shitty 1980’s buttrock anthem and despite the name, you actually get punched in the face less often.
For the most part, I was daddy's lil girl, well until the munchkin showed up 5 yrs later...( my sister) ugh..
Just kidding... I learned to play catch, had racetracks and climbed trees. I also skateboarded, did the BMX thing and was pretty good for a girl. I guess by now you can tell my dad wanted a boy, but got....me Leisa.
Not only was I a tomboy but a princess too! I took tap, jazz and ballet lessons till i was 18yrs old. My childhood was pretty strict, Usually because my mom was the one to enforce the rules..and for some reason or another, that till this day i cant fathom, why I was the one who always got grounded! It wasn't like my terror of a lil sister never did anything to get in trouble, but that i was the one who seemed punished all the time.
But I knew sooner or later my dad would come save the day and by Saturday, I was off the hook....time for me to go hit the skating rink with my friends. My dad knew how to read me...he knew when I was calculating some way to break out of doing chores, when I was depressed, and when I blasted Queen meant I was pissed about something or another.
There was a point in my life, that I made some mistakes, and low and behold my dad had my back. There was nothing that his little girl could do wrong....he knew how to fix everything with a kiss and a hug.
My dad fell about 16yrs ago...on those dumb white elephant planters that usually sit on the porch...you know the ones that Hispanic families believe bring good luck...well in this case, my dad needed to have neurosurgery because he was bleeding in the brain. On the table he suffered a major stroke which he NEVER recovered from. His mind was now of a child.
From that moment on, I felt abandoned.....I now knew what my friends who had an absent parent felt like. I could no longer run to my dad for advice or encouragement or the consoling I desperately needed from my dad. As the years have past us by....i visit my father and he looks at me with eyes of a stranger then there are those moments he greets me with a smile of acknowledgment. It has been hard...for my own selfish reasons, but he is still my dad.
He sees my daughter playing outside and he shouts to my mom" look at Leisa" not knowing that in fact I'm grown up and that is my child he sees. That's when I knew he still remembers that i was daddy's lil girl.
This past November my father fell again and broke his hip. No one knew he was hurting, remind you he cant voice how he feels... let alone what hurts. he also suffers from dementia.....he has been in and out of the hospital since then. We recently found out 2 weeks ago he has advanced Parkinson's disease and any medical treatment will not make him better. This Tuesday he went back in the hospital for pneumonia and sepsis of the blood. Here i am again reliving the moment that I was told my dad would never be the same.
I visited with him today...he knew who I was. i reminded him of stories from the past and he would laugh.. we watched a movie...It was then that I realized that the roles have changed and I'm in my fathers shoes.....consoling a child trapped in my fathers body. My father is whithering away..and there's not much we can do...but to see my daddy look at me with those eyes...and smile....i knew I'm still daddy's lil girl forever........
”Hack saw or machete? I just can not choose please help!” - Razor Blade Kisses
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Unfortunately the answer to that question depends on your application. Then again, knowing you, I’d bet that you’re probably using those tools to make something smaller in order to properly dispose of it. It is going to boil down to how much time you have to work with.
Let’s start with the machete first: Machetes were originally developed for hacking through overgrown forests to create paths/roads. With a sharp enough blade and enough physical force behind it, it’s possible that a machete could chop through something as hard as a bone but realistically it would be best used to separate bones at the joints. Such an impact would however create a splash of “mess” and a brief but loud noise. Your largest left-over pieces would be up to 20-inches long.
Hacksaws, on the other hand, use a fine-tooth blade held under tension to maintain a rigidity to the blade. Although less singular-effort is needed to use a hacksaw the time it requires and the constant force to keep the blade sawing back and forth could cause greater fatigue. Pieces could be cut down to an inch or less but now we’re talking about some serious time allotment. While less messy overall than the machete, a hacksaw would create a low-level grinding noise which would be constant during the duration of usage.
Between those two options, I believe I would be more inclined to use the machete just so I could be done quickly. However, since I am the Mob Boss and I have unlimited funds I would probably end up using an 18v cordless reciprocating saw (i.e.: Sawzall). Although slightly louder than a machete, it would allow the pieces to be made smaller and therefore more portable. Smaller mess than the machete and less time. Then it’s off to the Everglades for “vacation.”
Most important: make sure you dispose of the tools you use properly. Never keep anything and never leave any tools with your disposed pieces.
