Friday, September 24, 2010

AAAAaaarrrr, Meowy.

Pirate Kitten.

'Nuf said.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

You can bet yo last money...

Next week, I'm going to some shows. YAY! Deer Creek and Alpine Valley, here I come! This summer has been bittersweet, but I am looking forward to seeing it off with a bang. I just wanted to make a lil post about something I know has been bothering everybody for a while, now.

Why is it that in today's "urban" dancing movies, no one wants to just FOCUS ON THE DANCING. I don't mean that it isn't your protagonists' all-consuming passion, because it is. They just gotta dance, man. I mean the damn cinematography is friggin' annoying. It's all from above/from the feet/closeup of sweaty brow/from behind/closeup of shoes/closeup of boobies/from the front/and final pose. I mean, just leave the camera in front of the dance crew, let them dance, and then move it when they're done. I watched You Got Served twice, and was not sure who was doing the serving because the camera moved around so much. At least the director of Honey let you watch Jessica Alba fake-teach other people who actually DID some dancing. They should take a cue from the cheerleading movies. In Bring It On, they don't move the camera around during the cheerleading finals. All you see is their sweet, sweet art.

All this is precipitated by the fact that I am set to go see Step Up 3D this Friday afternoon.

I hope it does not disappoint. And if you want to know more about these type of fly movies, and study the link between old (Electric Boogaloo; aforementioned) and the new, please follow this link :
I will say, I don't fully support the inclusion of such movies as "Lambada" in the mix, purely because latin dance and what I consider Urban Dance are not the same, but it's a nice list, otherwise.

Anyway, I'll throw down some true OSD analysis in the next couple of weeks, but for the meantime, I'll borrow a phrase from the Master of Urban Dancers, himself, Mr. Don Cornelius.

You can bet your last money, baby, it's all gonna be a stone gas.

Friday, June 11, 2010

Whither art thou, dear Naptizzle?

My sweet, wonderful mom died on April 8th. So I haven't been feeling blog-tastic for a while. I know you were terribly worried about why I wasn't posting, but no worries. Hard times are the stuff of life. I hope to alleviate some of that, at least for myself, by posting stupid crap.

So, what have I been up to? I got a blu-ray player and a 32" flat screen. And a new car, and a new apartment, and a new-old cat (Mom's Treasure Paws). She is kyoot, of course. I shall post a picture so you can get the idea.

She is exceedingly wee. A total of 6 lbs at 2 years of age, so the tininess implied in this picture is not that far off the mark. My homestyle pirate likes to call her "Cow-cow Chickenhead" because of her white-with-black-spottedness. Don't ask, I don't know where he gets this stuff. Her name is Mandy (Amanda if you're nasty) but I like to call her Manders. Or Mandini, or Mrs. Manderson. Or Miss Thang. She considers the stroking of her fur grounds for finger-licking goodness. She will thoroughly lick your fingertips if you let her. She will also flee from a rapidly whirling ceiling fan, as I just learned in my new apartment.

So, now the catz outnumber the humans in my home. That was their plan all along, I assure you. Everyone gets along, so that's a bonus, but nevertheless, don't let them fool you with that feet-in-the-air innocent thing they do. They are of the opinion that they are the boss of you. And this Mandini is the queen of all these fools. She has my poor Clyde (orangestuff) completely in love and retarded (follows her EVERYWHERE) and she personally grooms Jasputin to woo him into thinking she's his servant, which she is not, as she will occupy his warm spot immediately on his departure.

AAH precious kitties. I love your soft bodies, but love not your nighttime peeping. And you should start WORKING to pay for all this litter and kibble I'm shelling out for. Wouldn't you pay Manders to shill something for you? Permakitten for hire! She'll up the value of any product! Consider the orange and the black and grey fluffy medium and large versions, as well!

Naptiger out!

Saturday, January 23, 2010

Jay Leno is a Giant Tool.

I just had to say, I will miss Conan for the next few months, and I think he was done wrong in the extreme. Leno has been supremely unfunny for time out of mind, and way less personable, too. I have literally never been amused by him. On the other hand, Conan makes me laugh regularly. So I give props to O'Brien for standing up for himself, and I look forward to seeing him again wherever he lands, unless it's on cable, cause homey can't afford that. I also propose a boycott of NBC. They don't have anything good, anyway. Except the Office and I can watch that online. So there, beeotches.
I saw a tear in his eye last night as I watched him say goodbye to his fans and the Tonight Show. And then, to my delight, I watched Conan O'Brien get on stage and play lead guitar for a performance of Free Bird with Will Farrell on the mike and Billy Gibbons, of aforementioned ZZ Top fame, on backup, along with Beck and Robert Randolph; oops! Ben Harper (I don't give a crap about either of those guys, so that explains my lack of knowledge, but thanks for the tip, dude) and some other guy I don't know the name of. Fly on, free Conan. I'll miss ya. And thanks for bringing a ZZ Top member into your send off. They don't get out much.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

ZZ Totally Awesome.

I was watching this CRAP movie the other day. I watch a lot of those (you have to sift through the chaff, right?) but this one pissed me off because it was billed as the next Office Space, which was a friggin cool movie with a kick ass soundtrack which I still listen to on the tapedeck in my tricked out 1997 station wagon. (If you haven't heard "Down for Whatever" by Ice Cube, you are missing out. It was my ringtone for like 3 years, until I switched it to Mary Jane by Rick James, and you can't really blame me for that, because that's one of the best songs ever.) ANYWAY, I was watching this crapfest, name of "Extract," which was directed by Office Space's Mike Judge, but which I won't go into explaining because that's not what this post is about, and they busted out a song that reminded me that I have to testify whenever I can. Testify about what, you ask? ZZ Top, man. That's right. I LOVE ZZ TOP. I have my whole life. I wanted the pumps/ruffly socks combo in that Legs video so bad I could taste it. I loved their beards, because as I might have mentioned before, I'm a beard lover. That biz just does it for me. That's why my boyfriend is a Hagrid/Grizzly Adams/Biker type. I love that stuff. Also, I love their whole Texas Blues sound, and their unabashed worship of the ladies. I saw them years ago performing in Savannah, Georgia, and they had Vegas showgirls up there on stage in addition to their fuzzy carpeted guitars. Now, if you are a person who is only acquainted with ZZ Top from early MTV, you may chiefly associate them with such tongue-in-cheek tunes as "Velcro Fly", "Tube Snake Boogie", or "Sleeping Bag." Maybe a hot song like "TV Dinners" off the Eliminator album. I don't even hate those, because I am a die hard fan, but you'd be really doing yourself a disservice if you didn't go listen to their best album, and perhaps one of the BEST ALBUMS EVER, Tres Hombres. It has songs like "Jesus Just Left Chicago" (SOOO GOOD) and "La Grange" (OMG) and "Beer Drinkers and Hell Raisers" which I would get on my license plate if it would fit. These are some of the best flipping songs I've EVER HEARD. It appeals to my love of the outlaw, I guess. But the best song ever by them isn't on Tres Hombres, it's on the (arguably, because when I think about it, it might be a tie) second best album by the Boys, Deguello. This album has songs like "I'm Bad, I'm Nationwide" (YES!) and "Cheap Sunglasses" (Thrifty!). It is the song I hope to play at my wedding someday. It is "I Thank You," a song which, admittedly, was first recorded by David Porter and Isaac Hayes (RIP) but was made my favorite by ZZ.
So, there's this scene in the crappy movie where Mila Kunis (who my BF has an annoying crush on, dammit) is driving her car and parking it outside a building, and they bust out I Thank You. There's no reason for them to play this song right there, soundtrack-wise, it is just a case of somebody who loves it as much as I thinking that they should put it somewhere in this otherwise stupid and dissapointing film. It's too much song for such a mundane scene.
I have posted a video below of Billy Gibbons, Dusty Hill, and Frank Beard (the only one without a beard, ironically, but he's on drums here, so you don't really see him) performing the aforementioned masterpiece, complete with spangled jackets, for you to enjoy. Feel the power of the Outlaw, my friends. And rock out.

Friday, January 8, 2010

My kitten is growed up and feisty.

I got this kyoot ass kitten a few months back. He was tiny, and orange, and fuzzy. He purred and curled up under your chin. He made tiny cat biscuits on your chest. He was the softest, warmest piece o' kittyflesh ever. He had an excruciatingly endearing face, with a pink nose and perky ears. His stripy legs and body showed the most exquisite marks in their downy fur covering. He peeped quietly when awake, and slept hard when he was sleepy. He played with stuff, but in a cute, baby-on-a-blanket sort of way.
Fast forward about 6 months. My kitten is HUGE. He is about as big as a full size cat, but I know he has a way to go, so I'm afraid he'll be as big as a dog when it's all over. That's not a big deal (big kittehs rock) but what is is the fact that while he is still a very attractive cat, he is possibly the most criminal kitten I have ever known. He thinks he's somebody, you know? He will find any small piece of plastic packaging, candy wrapper, receipt, barrette, paper clip, jewelry, check from somebody's dad in the mail, or other item that is somewhat small, and play with it. Not just play, but make irritating noises while playing, and then place underneath or behind furniture or closed doors where you will NOT find it. He also loves feet. Not just feet resting on the floor, but feet SLEEPING. And not just feet moving tantalizingly under the covers, but feet minding their own business. This kitten also has taken to spending time lying in wait to jump onto the toilet when you get up so that he can watch "stuff" go around and then drink from the bowl (EW.) This kitten enjoys sinking his claws into leather computer chairs that cost a pretty penny and ripping the upholstery with abandon. Why is this criminal, you ask? Is this not the behavior, more or less, of any good, red-blooded baby cat? Well, what's criminal is that he is old enough and has a stern enough Daddy that he is COMPLETELY AWARE of what bad kitties do and what will earn him a dousing with the squirt bottle and/or good whupping, but rather than avoiding these actions as a result of effective training tactics, he WAITS until we are sleeping/out of the house and proceeds to jump on countertops, drink from sinks, crawl on tables, remove things therefrom, and then destroy/hide them. That is a bad and diabolical boy. And also, he has a disturbingly large and bulbous ball sack. Just sayin'. It's rude, man. I haven't the time or money to get it removed right now, but boy I am hoping he is taken down a few considerable pegs when I do, because at this rate, he is going to destroy everything I own in short order, including my poor lacerated toes.
But, he does continue to make biscuits in the bedclothes, purr contentedly when napping, and be cute as the dickens, so I guess he's got that going for him. And when he crawls up on my boyfriend's chest and rubs his lil' pink nose in Brian's beard, it is disgustingly cute. So I'll let him live. Dunno about Brian. He has a short fuse for ill-behaved pets, but I did hear him say that he loved him in the other room a while back when he thought I wasn't listening.
So just a warning. Kittens grow. And get crazy. I think that happens with kids, too, but I don't have any. And, I'm pretty sure you're not allowed to cut their testes off.