Wednesday, April 01, 2009

Dear Charlie:

Though I've received several noteworthy name suggestions for the new wheels, I have yet to pick a name that fits. Stay tuned.

In other news, I apparently have a new diagnosis at work. Yes, since we deal with mental health issues day in and day out, we absolutely love to diagnose each other. Especially with made-up shit.

Like Missi, the MOSS (medical office support specialist, AKA secretary). She suffers from compulsive honesty, among other things. Heheh. She can't help but tell you if she's done something goofy or wrong or just plain fracked up. No one would ever know, but she just has to tell you. It's hilarious. It's like she thinks she's lying if she doesn't tell you.

Anyway, my new diagnosis? Passive-aggressive masochism.

Say that three times without hurting yourself. I dare you.

Apparently, because I subject myself to bad movies all the time, I'm basically a self-harmer who doesn't really want to self-harm, so I just force myself to suffer through crap films. Instead of cutting or head-bashing or hitting myself, I wince and squirm through inconceivable plots, atrocious acting, and godawful editing choices. Guh.

Passive-aggressive masochism. You can blame that mouthful on Jon and Darcalus. It's all their fault.

I'll tell you why the subject came up in a couple of weeks. Yes, it's because I made myself watch the entirety of a very bad movie. I mean horrible. Indescribably awful. Painfully terrible.

BAD.

And no, I'm not saying which one. You'd know it if you saw it.

No, it wasn't Watchmen. Haven't seen it yet.

But on to better movies, I had occasion to revisit Little Monsters, an old monster comedy from the '80s starring none other than Mr. Deal-or-No-Deal himself, Howie Mandel, and a fresh-faced Fred Savage. No, he wasn't the Mole. Not yet, anyway. Heh.

Now, this isn't a particularly great movie, but it's so much fun. Watching Mandel jump all over the screen as the ever-childish Maurice, making puns left and playing pranks right, is a riot. Seeing the obligatory '80s-style montage of Savage rigging his little brother's bed to collapse as soon as he's sure the monster is in the room while driving synthesizer music wails in the background is hilarious.

But better still are all the goofy monster effects. Boy is actively creepy, while Snik is the protypical school bully given monstrous powers and near-invincibility. And Mandel is a riot. Did I say that already?

So no, not the best movie. The viewer is subjected to quite a bit of bad acting, but none of it on Mandel's part and surprisingly little from Savage. Savage's mother is convincing, and Daniel Stern as Savage's dad is a riot. No bad acting from either of them.

But it is basically a kids' movie, and it is almost entirely populated by kids, so you're gonna get some missed cues and some monotone lines.

And all the '80s-style electronics-rigging-to-aerobic-video-music you can take. Heh.

My favorite lines from this cheese-o-rific classic of my youth? From Mandel's character, of course.

We take the shit. We smash the shit. And then we put the shit back! It's called monster ball.

We do the bashin'. You get the thrashin'!


Priceless.

Oh, and I totally faked at least 6 people out today by telling them that I'd wrecked my new car. Totalled it. Ran it into a telephone pole...after swerving to miss a midget crossing the road.

Great safety features, though. The car was totalled, but I only got a little rug burn from the airbag.

You'd be amazed how many people believed me. Even throwing in the midget. Heh. Happy April Fool's Day, everyone!

...

Speaking of, what do you call a midget psychic on the run?

...

...Wait for it....

...

A small medium at large.

Ha!

8 Comments:

At 12:22 AM, OpenID soleilnoir said...

Mind if I guess said horrible movie?

Shark Attack 3? Cool As Ice? Alien Express?

It can't be worse than those...it simply can't be. And if you've never seen any of those, well then I did my misdemeanor duty by feeding your Passive-Aggressive Masochism.

oo ooo! Can has diagnosis? *ggg*

 
At 9:00 PM, Anonymous Pesh said...

Tell me the uber-bad film...er, movie ("film" seems to imply too much quality) doesn't involve Uwe Boll. If it does, I'm guessing Pathfinder. That movie was so bad, an MST job couldn't make it amusing.

 
At 8:11 PM, Blogger GutterBall said...

You're both wrong, but Pesh knows good and well what it was. She's unfortunately watched it, too.

Guh. Just shoot me.

And yes, Soleil, you can definitely have a diagnosis. *snerk* Pick your favorite set of initials, and I'll make up something to go with 'em. Heheheh.

 
At 10:29 PM, Anonymous Pesh said...

O_o

Oohhh...hehehehe...

You sat through it again?

Diagnose me guilty as well.

*induces death by Tony Horton*

 
At 12:17 PM, Blogger GutterBall said...

No, not exactly. *sigh* I couldn't get past the "Show me something useful. Show me how to get the girl!" part.

*cries*

 
At 6:03 PM, OpenID soleilnoir said...

Hmmmmmmmm, favorite set of initials....Let's try SAM?

 
At 6:19 PM, Blogger GutterBall said...

Okee doke...you are hereby diagnosed as...hmmm....

Schizoid Anxiety Maladjustance.

Heh. Dunno what it means, but it sounds pretty fearsome! And pretty darn official, if you ask me.

The cure? Take two of Joely's novellas and call Gregar in the morning. Woo-hoo!

 
At 4:44 PM, OpenID soleilnoir said...

It DOES sound Fearsome! Now you just watch I try to make it apply in some eerily accurate way. *snerk*

And wow, if I'd have known having a disorder would give me more excuses to read books I might have played up on my teenage angst a bit more. *ggg* And Poor Joely, every one is after her muse, he of the perfect Arse.

 

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