Thursday, May 26, 2011

How I Single Handedly Defeated the Rapture.

I spent the last few days dying.

Or wishing I was dead.

Or being sick. It’s all pretty subjective really. Either way you can’t do me for it, I call diplomatic immunity, I have rights under the Hays Code, not to mention the Broadcasting Standards Authority will have something to say about this!

It's not fair, Disturbed made being “Down with the Sickness” sound oh so fun, with all their gettting up and getting down with the sickness, and that “oo wa a a a” noise they make in every song they've ever released. I thought it was all due to their excitement over being sick, and the fact that they were jumping around with excitement because they got the day off work, and could pusue leisurely activities like bowls and tea-drinking, the things you know wouldn’t exacerbate food poisoning too much but are still fun enough to prevent you dying from boredom.

That's not the case, so it would seem. The getting up and down apparently refers to the constant jogs to the bathroom, and that “oo wa a a a” noise is more familiar to that sound you make when you're trying not to get puke on your bedroom floor (ladies, can you believe I’m single, I sure can't).

Perhaps it was my own personal judgment day. God came unto me and said, “You’ve been a bit of a dick lately; have some sickness.” Whilst I am somewhat flattered that I was singled out for my own personal rapture (which was made worse by the fact that I missed two days of a job I actually enjoy), that’s a dick move. If there is a god that is, and while I don’t have scientific evidence (other than science as a whole, but y'know), it's quite possible there isn’t ( and the hate mail ensues... ).

All of this hate, just after he gave me a double yolk egg on Saturday,  is obviously a sign that I am special in some way.

Undeniable proof I was chosen. Even though it looks like I just cracked two eggs into a pan.

What I can't figure out is if Harold Camping was trolling (clickable word, I will replace Wikipedia in no time*) or just a deluded old man who read way too much into one of the most ambiguous books ever written, and found the date of an event that not even God's son, Timmy, would recognise (you thought I was going to say Jesus, didn’t you. He wouldn’t know that date either but God uses Timmy as more of a PA so he is more likely to know).

Oh well at least Mr./Rev. Camping gave stand-up comedians material for years to come, well at least until the Mayans kill us all.

But through all this we have learned that you shouldn’t really be hating me for not posting (I know you were, don’t deny it). You should be thanking me for singlehandedly taking on the rapture and, as long as I don’t have coffee, kicking its ass.

Also that I, as a human being,  am not that great.

In fact, if we want to do some math with this 'god'  who caused the rapture, I defeated the rapture. With some A = B logic I am > your chosen deity. Not blasphemous, just true.


P.S. Definitely going to hell. But It will be warm there so it's okay.

P.P.S. If you are religious I am sorry. I have nothing against you and I love each and every one of you (unless you A) force it down others throats or B) use it as a justification for killing and/or generally being a bad person). Belief is such a great thing, a trait I almost wish I was capable of having.

*Mwahaha. This one is an actual definition of trolling if you need one. I don’t care what you say, Rick Rolling is still funny. And I was proving a point, aren't I clever? Yes, yes I am.

Friday, May 20, 2011

5 Fast, 5 Furious. A Review

I broke a promise to myself.

None of you haters can say I already failed my 100 day challenge, I know, it hurts inside (not really but if you felt bad at all, then you’re a good person).

No, my promise was I went and saw something I didn’t think I wanted to see.

Two girls one cup you say? No.
Rebecca Black live? Does that exist? If so would assassination be a serious danger?

No. I'm talking a movie. A movie so bad it became good again, then bad.

I am talking about 5 Fast, 5 Furious.

These movies were badass when I was 15, when I could take my Toyota Corolla down to a gravel pit, rip the hand break and nearly write it off into a bank.

It was cool when I lived with car nuts and drifters and we went out in their cars worth more than our house and did stupid shit.

I thought "I am a dude. I know about cars. I can make one go forwards. I can change gear. I can put petrol in it. And if it stops working I can fix that shit, providing (and it is the case with my car) that the problem is that I have run out of gas." This movie will be awesome.

But they changed something. Like a porno directed by M. Night Shamalan, it had too much story and not enough action.

At times they just flat out insulted the audience by introducing us to douchebags with cool cars, race challenges where issued, pink slips were put on the line, then just as you thought this might be getting awesome... they are at the hideout with a new car, no fucking race! Not pleased, not pleased at all.

The Fast and Furious movies have traditionally been one thing, car porn. Being awesome, without being good. And before you ask, there is a difference in my opinion; Good movies have everything going for them, storyline, characters, cinematography, and the sorts of things that win awards and you leave going “that was amazing.” 

Awesome movies, like Transformers, or really anything Michael Bay has ever done, appeal to something deep within us. That part of you that is always there but only small in some people. The part of you that loves explosions and robots and boobs. The sorts of movies that are strung together by a loose storyline, but for the most part know that they won't win any awards and go "let's just make shit explode".

If you're making a movie like this, here is my advice. Pretend you're making a porn film. No one gives a crap about the characters except girls and that’s not the audience you're trying to appeal to, is it. You’re appealing to dudes, and any dude that watches this sort of movie should be instantly transformed into the sort of meathead who tries to fight everyone on a Saturday night. They want action, cool cars doing cool stuff with pretty girls.

Simple as that.

P.S. The acting was pretty terrible aswell.

P.P.S. I think I said porn too much in this post, pretty sure my mum reads this, and I am pretty sure its now NSFW. Ah well.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

I Brought A Note From Home.

I know I fail miserably at my challenge. But I have an excuse this time, honest.

I didn’t think there was any point because of the whole rapture thing, will that do professor?  

Come on, eternal darkness. Everyone you know and love dying. All of that happening on Saturday! This Saturday at 6 o’clock! *Runs around the room screaming we're all going to die, stopping only to take breaths and drink my soda.*

Yay for low res Monty Python reference!

I hope that came across as sarcastic. I am not crazy, well, in the sense that I don’t think the world is going to end, I have never sought the help of a medical professional to explain the inner workings of my mind and never shall unless I start stabbing, but that is a slippery road to head down.

I don’t think the world will end. It won't happen, but if it does I will pay you all of the money in my bank account, which right now is a paper clip, two dead flies and a rather impressive lint ball. Honestly, that’s what it says on my statement, along with a photo from the bank manager pulling the fingers and a message scrawled at the bottom in what appears to be his blood, spelling “save some money, douchebag.” I will save, Bank-man, when I am good and ready and not earning somewhat less than minimum wage at internships.

So with the predicted rapture looming (as it has every 40 or so years since the beginning of time), and the fact that if this rapture doesn’t kill us the Mayan calendar will, and if that doesn’t get us there is supposed to be some sort of world war that will wipe us all out, or the predicted earthquake last week that was meant to wipe Rome of the face of the earth (I don’t know who was to blame for that but still), my calendar is fast filling up. It seems I won’t even be able to watch the re-run of Friends that's on Saturday night.

So while there will be (if I am not to busy prepping for the end of days) posts between now and then, I will be seeing you Sunday for a glorious 'I told you so'.

P.S. Is the rapture happening 6pm NZ time or are we going by GMT or PST? I don’t know what the big guy upstairs sets his watch to.

Monday, May 16, 2011

What Would Happen If David Attenborough Got Drunk?

Have you ever wanted to watch a car crash?

I both do and don’t. On one hand the level of destruction would be exciting, bits and pieces flying everywhere, babies being launched from carseats, tyres flying through trees and into nearby houses. not to mention the flaming debris landing in the nearby fireworks factory.

But then there's also the fact that people dying sucks, and if I saw a baby flying through a windscreen I would be scarred for  life, probably cry a little and then get hit in the face by a rogue roman candle from the aforementioned, conveniently located fireworks factory.

There is one car crash, however, that I have to watch. It's gruesome, at times very painful, though it has moments, rare moments, where it can be funny, endearing, all while simultaneously angering me to the very core of my being.

This particular car crash is televised, watched by millions, who I hope merely laugh at it and take solice in the fact that they, the viewer, are more intelligent and overall better as a human being than the people that take part in this menagerie of fake tan and fist pumping.

The car crash, or should I say the documentary I refer to is none other than MTV's  Jersey Shore. The show I love to hate. The show that makes me weep inside yet has the ability to cause me the utmost joy.

It isn’t so much a reality show than a manual for how one should probably not live their life. Unless you're a cast member of course, making millions for acting like a d-bag, getting drunk, gettting laid and going to the fair. Then I'm sure it's a brilliant way to live your life.

If you haven’t seen the show, I firstly ask you why you haven’t, and mentally compare you to a child who says they don’t like a certain type of food, only to try it and love it. I know many who passed their judgement without setting eyes on the show, and this will not do. But for the sake of keeping you informed, the show follows the lives of a group of guidos spending their summer on the Jersey Shore (oh, so that’s where the name comes from).

It's an all-round cast, with characters like the hateable yet oh so lovable "Situation", the crazy drunken dwarf that is Snooki, the car-crash relationship that is Sammi and the giant gorilla of a man Ronnie, Vinnie and Paulie, the lovable twosome that are the funniest things in fake tan I have seen since the original Oompa Lumpa Dance, Angelia, who left after two seasons with a vow to never return, her replacement Deena, and of course who could forget the fake-boobed bombshell that is JWoww.
An example of how much a part of our society they have become.
Kickin' it with Obalms

The show in itself is just a chronicling of their exploits. Drinking too much, getting a little something-something, pranking each other and GTL-ing (for those of you in the dark, that’s the art of going to the Gym, going to get a Tan and doing their Laundry. Brilliant system, right?). 

This show has a huge influence on me, not in the sense that I want to be like these people, but instead in the sense that I have found myself and many people around me using lingo from the show, such as GTL, grenades and FTD (fresh to death, didn't you know). And the one thing I actually do do (hehe) like them, is the shirt before the shirt. This is the art of not putting the shirt you intend to wear out until just before you go out, so there is no chance of it not being pristine.

Another opinion I have in regards to the show, though many may disagree, is that in some ways, it sends out a postive body image message. Obviously the fake tan isn’t that great, but the fact is you see them all looking after themselves, never see them using steroids, undereating or having eating disorders. So there is at least one thing positive coming from it (I know I will probably get hate mail for that and will most likely have to write a whole blog justifying my opinions but hey, that just means more content).

So I’m not saying watch it, I sometimes hate that I love the show as much as I do. But if you do give it a chance (though you will have to give it a few episodes), don’t watch it as a bunch of fist-pumping guidos dancing around. Instead, view it as a documentary about how others live. And maybe, just maybe, it will teach you something about yourself you never knew.

Image from the fun factual site

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Lazy, Like A Sunday Blog Post.

Like a crack addict who was shoved behind bars, forced to kick his chemical addiction then cast back out into the world, I am back here, just like I always was, blogging and trying to post at least once a day.

Of course Blogger going down on Friday caused me to use my desk for it's intended purpose (a pool table, that is) more than I usually would, and also led to me actually doing some work.

This post, due to it's being a weekend post, I feel will be a little bit half arsed. This is because in New Zealand (where it's currently winter), we are all curled up under blankets reading by torch light as the elements batter us, whereas if you're in the Northern Hemisphere you are probably out climbing trees and pushing a hoop down a dirt road with a stick.

Nevertheless, I said I would write each day (yesterday doesn’t count because I assumed Blogger would still be down. I didn’t have anything to go off. If the PSN debacle is anything to go by I could have been down for at least a year, or four weeks, however long it has been),  and write I shall.

However I do feel as though by writing everyday I am losing something, diluting down what could be comedy gold into comedy silver or another precious metal that is only slightly less valuable than gold. I never want to be one of those people who feel the need to update their blog, Twitter, Facebook and any other contraption that the kids use these days, to tell the world they had a soda or that their cat shat itself on the rug (although to be fair a cat shitting itself on a rug could become a viral video on Youtube so, for the purpose of taking over the interwebs, that may be situational).

What I thought I would have for you today is an ad.

There's a compettion in the ad world that sends young creatives to the Cannes Advertising Awards and late last night I was browsing the briefs that they had online, and had an idea that I thought could be okay.

I tried to film it but alas my lack of knowledge meant I spent an hour trying to work out how I would film it (it seemed so simple in my head but how do you film finger shadow puppets straight on without getting the camera in shot?). I tried a few things, but ended thinking I needed to call up Peter Jackson and see if Weta Workshops could hook me up with a crew.

The other thing I needed was the voices of an army of small children, and for said children to make some cool shadow finger puppets (is there a shorter name for those?).

So time ran out and now, as the deadline looms due to it's being a 48 hour competition, I won’t be handing anything in.

But there's always next year; though by that time I will own the internets, the youtubes and have all the awards I will ever need, sitting in my ivory tower thinking  “I am the greatest.” And then crying, because no one ever visits me.

Thursday, May 12, 2011

Its What I Do.

Much like any other night I woke up last night with random ideas buzzing around my head, some random, some for what I am working on here and work.

However today, after waiting on a briefing for far to long I decided it would be simple enough to slap together in photoshop. 

I may make this a thing. Advertising Thursday but cooler, it really needs some alliteration. Make a logo (as you can see below I have a special skill for logo design.)

So here is an ad I made for you.

Just you, yes YOU!

My main inspiration came when I thought up the name of the car company I would one day own and run. 

Dont you think their catch phrase encapsulates everything it is to be a car  owner or manufacturer.

I know their are a few mistakes in the copy, and Hugh never even looked at it so the art direction is a little off but hey, I've only been doing this a few months now so shhhh.

Disclaimer: I have never worked on any car accounts in a real agency. 

Oh and shut your mouth I know this isn't a real "Car Company" car.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

How Do You Sleep At Night?

I have an annoying habit of having an overactive mind. It won't let me sleep much of the time, which leads to my being tired much of the time.

It's a bit shit really.

Usually I just write something vaguely interesting, or a stupid story and then I can stop thinking.

Here is one such story, a musing if you will.

Live every day as if it were your last.

I have always found this to be a bit of a stupid statement for many reasons.

Firstly because it doesn’t elaborate enough on why it is your last day. Is it everyone’s last day? Or just mine?

If it is everyone’s, and they know it, the streets would be an orgy of chaos. A sanctuary for the seedy underbelly of the human mind. People would be looting, shooting and doing all that stuff you kind of wish you could do but were always afraid to.  Of course this situation also has positive sides, for example you would finally ask out that girl you like... But then you would also bitchslap that dude in your office that you hate, too. You’d pop caps in various asses just for the hell of it. You’d take up crack because you wanted to know what it was like but you were always too busy being a functioning member of society.

And then how would the planet end, huh, wise guy? Would it just cease to exist? Would we just vanish into nothingness in a strange reverse of the way we were created all those million years ago, a single catastrophic bang casting us back from whence we came?

Or would a meteor hit? Like the movie Armageddon would we hang around watching the skies singing either Aerosmith’s “Don’t Want to Miss a Thing” or “Que Sera Sera”, depending on whether you’re A) in the movie Armageddon or B) a Simpsons nerd.

Or would it just end for you. Would it be merely your life, nudged from this mortal existence. To be, to live, to breath no more.

Do I have an illness, spouter of this annoying statement? Must I spend this last day in a bed, attached to machines, or maybe wacked out of my mind on painkillers because to spend this last day sober would be too painful?

I have always felt that this statement should be changed to something more relevant. Something that doesn’t conjure so many questions in my mind and that doesn’t annoy me for merely existing.

My new version, which I must admit I did not make up, but because of the fact that I read so much on the Internets and listen to so many different podcasts, I cannot attribute to its coiner.

“Live your life as though it was a story you’d want to tell someone.”

This partly means that you should do things you'll remember, or at least want to remember. And you should realise that no matter how stupid, crazy or how much you don’t want to do a particular something, one day, when you have your own popular radio show/blog/dinner party, you can tell that story and people will think “Well gosh, that sounds cool, I wish I was there.” And if you can do things in your life that can make people think that then I think you succeeded.

And you don’t have to die tomorrow.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Day 2: already phoning it in?

Today is day 2.
The familiar feeling of tiredness that comes with my body not being used to getting up consistently early once again washes over me.
And it may feel as though I am phoning today in.
I assure you I do not mean it to seem that way, it is something that I have been meaning to do for far to long and that I am sorry has not come sooner.
What I am referring to is the corrections to the film idea that I posted months ago (look I have links, Its like I’m Wikipedia.).
Mere minuets after I posted that particular post Joe, emailed me to tell me I had it all wrong, unlike me I know but he had a list.
And so without further adue here are his corrections to the summer blockbuster that will never get made until one or both of us is recognized as a brilliant writer (of course I am in more of a position to do this but I doubt I will ever get asked to write a screen play (if you would like me to write a screen play I’m sure I can get in touch.))

People may say they told me there was already a TV show with the same title and well there is.
Still... Its a movie so it must be different. Right?

Okay a few mistakes here.
1. The 3rd guy causes the meltdown and during the movie is trying to discover a way to get them back to normal, while at the same time he is trying to find a way of telling his friends it was his fault. Emotional stuff I know.
2. The bodies actually take part in the robbery, which leads me on to the next plot point I have just recently come up with.
3. The bodies are being tracked down by a detective, think Morgan Freeman in Seven.
4. They only have a certain amount of time to get their bodies back, maybe they are slowly decomposing? Maye too graphic? But we definately need a ticking clock for the big action concluding spectacular! at the end.
5. In one scene they travel around on a tandem bike, its funny cause there is only one of them with three heads! 
Three's Company! (Three heads are better than one!) I know it's gold, will practically sell the movie for us.

Monday, May 9, 2011

The first day. Again.

So after two weeks of blissful freedom, where hours were mere trivialities to be flittered away, I am working again.

The new job begins, like many on a Monday morning, in a room that looks straight out of a movie.

It has a pool table, a dartboard,  and many photos from the days of yore when men were men, and a photo of moose or an old sea captain and far too many mirrors were what passed for d├ęcor. There is also, strangely enough, a skull of a long since dead animal, and less surprisingly a TV with a PS3 and a Nintendo Wii hooked up... I don’t think much work is going to get done in here. Or who knows the sea captain in the photo, whom I shall dub Captain Graham Phillipstein (He is a very proper captain, none of this hippy Jack Sparrow bullshit), may inspire thoughts within me I never thought possible.
Gaze upon His Majesty. May he bring me luck and the ability to grow
a beard such as his. Glorious.

Despite his grim outlook after leaving our last place of work, Hugh, my friend and art director is here, playing pool after being left alone in this room for a grand total of about two and a half minutes.

I want this room in my house.

But anyway, I wrote this the other night to begin my new challenge.

You know those nights where you can't sleep, so you just stay awake singing one word over and over (or a Justin Beiber song)? You throw a tennis ball against the wall repeatedly, wondering if anyone can hear you, and curious to know if you could throw the tennis ball hard enough to go through a wall. You don’t try because, even though I’m pretty sure not even Batman could do it (Superman could obviously but what do you expect from the man of steel, he could throw a pea through a wall. I don’t even know why I’m talking about it because it’s so obvious), if by some miracle you managed to, you; 
A) don’t know how to explain that you threw a tennis ball through a wall just to see if you could and
B) You cannot be arsed trying to be Tim ‘the Tool Man’ Taylor and fix it (unless, of course, you had the assistance of Al ‘the Pointless Reference to a Sit-com’ Borlan). You can't tell me no one else has nights like that.

I am writing this at 1:07am. I cannot sleep. I have a job interview in the morning and I would like it to go well even though I have a job already lined up (Present me: That’s the one I am at today).

But the main reason I am writing this post is because I haven’t written one for a while. As a result I feel I must, in order to keep the ‘I blog’ thing on my Facebook profile or face being placed in jail for fraud and misrepresentation of myself on Facebook (because no one does that) and it is frowned upon in society. And so help me God, I will not have society shun me.

But more importantly as part of my new job I will be undertaking a 100-day internship (I always say job... it's not. Like my place at Mojo, they could just be using me for my ideas then say there are no full time positions; cries.)So I have decided that without fail I must write a new blog for each of those hundred days. My proofreading department may hate having to take time out of their busy days to do it but I don’t care because it's a physical challenge.

So let my hundred days of nonsense begin. Take the journey with me. Subscribe, click all the buttons that I put at the bottom, despite the fact I am not yet sure what they do. But they have to be good, all the bloggers I look up to have them.