Yes, I blog infrequently. Mostly because I'm fucking lazy, but also because I share the "overexposure" fear with The Precious One. I write when I have something to say, and when I don't, I shrink back into obscurity and read fan fiction, other cool blogs or obssesively follow the cast. That's my dealio. Just so happens this week, I have shit to say.
Last Friday, I finally had the opportunity to see The Runaways, which is a biopic set in 1975 about the lives of Cherie Currie & Joan Jett, and the first all-girl rock band, The Runaways. I was nine years old in 1975 and the extent of my musical exposure was my mother's Neil Diamond & Barry Manilow albums and the occasional Roger Whittaker 8-track that rattled around the floor of my dad's 1969 Ford El Ranchero. (Which, incidentally was the locale for my first vehicular sexual experience, but I digress.)
Of course, since the movie starred Kristen Stewart & Dakota Fanning, both of whom I adore, I was excited when my normally lame local theater added showings for this past weekend, so I'd have the opportunity to learn more about the genesis of the female rockers. Plus, obvz....Joan Jett is a badass and I was curious to see just how Kristen would fill those enormous platform boots.
My review is short & sweet:
1 - Swiss-cheese script, so-so directing & the movie never gained a full head of steam
2 - KStew and DFann ROCKED the ever livin' shit out of their characters
3 - I was so impressed with Kristen's vocals I swear on my AC/DC Back In Black vinyl that I had tears in my eyes.
The movie should have had a whole lot more of that and less of Michael Shannon playing a raging cokehead with bad dental hygiene. Of course, the director Floria Sigismondi didn't ask me, but she should have. (Her name makes me think of a sigmoidoscopy which is a medical procedure during which a tube in threaded through your anus so the
ass doctor Proctologist can see your colon. Again, my digression leads us in strange places, but just go with me, ok?)
Final observation: Kristen and Dakota deserve to win "Best Kiss" on the MTV music awards, because that shit was HOT. If I'd seen this movie in my more formative years, prior to my exposure to peen, it may have convinced me that switch-hitting was the way to go. Just sayin'.
Also causing me to have a rampant case of the moisties this week is the panty-'sploding news that my favorite DILF on the planet, Billy Burke (a.k.a. Charlie Swan) will release an album this summer, and he's cool enough to let his fans preview an unmastered single from the album - song called "Removed". I'm not sure how long it will remain active, but as of 3:15 p.m. CST today, the free download was still available on Billy's new site at http://www.billyburke.net/ Go listen. The Burkemeister has pipes.
I have made no secret of my undying devotion to Billy Burke. To me, the man single-handedly made Twilight a palatable movie for those of us unable to survive on Rob's hotness alone. Billy brought actual acting chops to the movie and for the love of all that is manly facial hair, he gave us the Charlie Swan pornstache and a deep, abiding love for single law enforing dads struggling to raise teenage daughters with death wishes.
Here's an old vid from my YouTube Channel, an ode to the B-Man himself:
I'm sure by now, most of you know that the final cut of the Eclipse trailer will premiere on The Oprah Show this Friday. How curious. Really? I never would have guessed that Summit would choose that outlet to air this long awaited preview of the film, but whatever-the-fuck. Not much else they do makes sense either, so why start now? (Read: I'm still pissed about the dismissal of Rachelle LeFevre and yes, I'm the President of Grudge Holders Anonymous. We never have meetings because we just stay pissed off at each other.)
Yeah, I'll DVR Oprah, but I'm still trying to decide if I'll have the self control to refrain from watching it at work once it hits YouTube, or if I'll make at attempt at the more mature approach (questionable), and record myself watching the trailer at home & share it with y'all.