I Absolutely Fucking Love The Title of My Page

That's not just ego. I really, really love it. It's considerably shorter than the old title (Film Essays- The Redheaded Stepchild of a Cynical World) and a rather direct statement aimed at some of the people who come over here from the Best Site On Earth (see sidebar). So, I figured that if I was going to have some fun with re-titling the site, then I might as well throw a new template onto it, because that last one was fucking ugly like no website has been since the invention of Mosaic. Blind people loaded up my page and their browser-to-speech program went, "Aw, damn! Be glad you're blind, brother!" Of course, seeing how many people come over from the Best Site On Earth (again, sidebar), I'm trying to figure out how it is that the blind could get anything out of those Jenna Von Oy pictures. ... But, then again, Playboy has a Braille edition.

So I'm talking to one of my friends today. Her name is not Elaine, I swear. Don't go looking up Elaines in the local phonebook, because this isn't her. Anyway, "non-Elaine" is telling me about her burgeoning eating-disorder, in that she really wants to eat, but refuses to. Apparently she told her boyfriend, who we're going to refer to as "non-Puddy" (because it goes with non-Elaine), that her friend gained a ton of weight after getting married, and non-Puddy says that's why he's never getting married, because he doesn't want his wife getting fat on him.

I could've phrased that sort of statement better, myself, and that's saying quite a bit, given that I was born without a sense of tact. Three kidneys, but no tact; it's very sad. Anyway, so here she is just starving herself to make sure that she doesn't get fat, because she says she looks at a cheeseburger and her jeans begin to feel tighter. Me, I get that same effect from looking at melons. (cue laugh track) ... So, here we've got this girl who's not eating (or rarely eats), because she wants to look good for her guy, and, here's the world's smallest violinist playing just for her. After all, when Valentine's Day rolls around, he'll be able to sweep her off her feet (because she'll weigh eighty pounds) and they'll be able to dance to everyone's favorite song, "Close To You."

Now. If you understand why "Close To You" is funny in this situation, give yourself a pat on the back. No, it's not because it's a bad or old song, and no, it's got nothing to do with the movie Parenthood. If you don't get it, you just don't get it, or you think that anorexia isn't funny, whereas you've got a valid point, but your point is wrong.

On the flipside of the coin, the winner of the Best Documentary prize at the Sundance film festival this weekend was a movie called Super Size Me in which a guy eats three meals a day at McDonald's. You might think it sounds easy, but wait until a few days in, like when this guy started complaining of having "McGurgles" and "McGas." By the end of the film (by the end of the month), he'd put on twenty-four pounds and his cholesterol count ended up being about equal to your SAT score.

And the Superbowl is apparently going to have three commercials for drugs like Viagra and Levitra. That's right, drugs that treat Erectile Dysfunction. This is like that old George Carlin skit, where he's talking about the various titles of 'shellshock' through the ages, and I think this whole Erectile Dysfunction thing is just another one of those crocks of shit. All right? You know what? You're fucking impotent, you dumb bastard! You just call it Erectile Dystfunction, or -worse yet- abbreviate it as 'ED' (congratulations to you if your name actually happens to be Ed) to make yourself feel better, because you're free of the whole stigma that comes with the word 'impotent.' After all, Erectile Dysfunction just sounds like a wiring problem in your house, whereas 'impotence' sounds like your fuse box caught fire and burned down your entire fucking neighborhood.

I really don't know where I was going with that. I'm going to bed.

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