Showbiz
or
Screw This Noise, I'm Running To Hollywood

As anyone who has frequented my blog can tell, a few months in my life is a very long time. Mountains crumble. The entire surface of my daily landscape erupts, liquefies, and hardens into something unrecognizable.

I'm a creature of violent change. As always, my writing drops off like a frayed piece of twine, pulled too taught by the tectonic forces surrounding it. Forgive my silence.

Everything has changed.

My fiance, Greg, and I are no longer engaged. In fact, we don't even speak to each other. I left his domicile in Saint Louis on December 6th, 2010. Anyone who so much as utters his name will have their nipples torn off with red-hot iron pincers, and the raw wounds remaining shall be filled with rock salt and sewn shut with uncured pig-gut. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?

I'm like, over it, and stuff. Promise.

I no longer live in Las Vegas. One day, I simply packed up my things and left. I left my roommate of 5 years (Arturo), my cats (with him), and most of my worldly goods behind. I took only what I could carry, and drove off into the desert for Hollywood.

Not for fame, gentle readers. I'm not a fool. But perhaps for fortune, should she favor me.

I moved in with a friend who lives in Hollywood, a mere walk from the boulevard. We have a pleasant apartment big enough for the two of us, with cafes and shops nearby. He is kind to me, and we share an excellent friendship and working relationship. Together, we're producing his first feature film. (You can find out more about it here.)

For work, I've been freelance modeling. Don't laugh. I'm actually pretty good at it.

There are things I miss about Las Vegas, but I couldn't stay there. The city and it's horrible inhabitants were killing me. Moving to Los Angeles is the best thing I've ever done for myself.

More updates will follow, but I figured it was 'bout time I brought this picture up to speed.

Naturally Juicy
or
Yet Another Reason Why I'd Rather Live In Europe.

I'm usually not much for "Furries," but there is something about Orangina's latest ad campaign that I really dig. It's sexy. It's downright scintillating.

Why can't we have attractive, original advertising like this in the USA?

Oh yeah. Because we're a nation of prudes. We wouldn't "get" it. Orangina's sales would plummet because the American people can't handle a visually stunning stylistic comment on the animal nature of human sexuality that also subtly lampoons modern advertising tropes. Too deep for 'em.

Thank god for the French.

This first one - for Orangina Red - is my absolute favorite. It's also the most inaccessible for an American audience:




I think I'm in love with that black panther Domina.

This commercial is brilliant. Everything from the voice acting to the expression on the pudgy businessman's face is spot on. *Cough, not that I know anything about BDSM, cough* It's funny. It's entirely memorable, with viral video potential, and the viewer remembers the product with ease. Fantastic work.



This next one is the first ad I ever saw from this particular campaign. It's made its rounds on the internet pretty thoroughly, but it deserves a re-post, for being so beautifully done. It's a joy to watch.



I love the details in the animation. The deer woman's ears prick up and wiggle with emotion. When the chameleon man kisses the flower woman, excitement causes his skin to suddenly pulse with every color of the rainbow. The lighting throughout is natural, warm, and radiant. The ad is gorgeous to look at, perfectly scripted, and full of vibrant, sexy energy. A real winner in my book.



Next, a series of ad spots under 15 seconds. I love the way that they poke fun at common themes in advertising. So meta, I just want to kiss whoever came up with them!



In just 3 days, Orangina will clear up your skin! No artificial colors or flavors!





Active bears don't always have time to shower. That's why he uses Orangina!




This one speaks for itself. Also: It's so damned refreshing to see gay men acknowledged in everyday advertising. Fuck you, America.





Orangina is her secret for silky, shiny hair.


I want to applaud the firm that came up with this campaign: Fred & Farid. Yeah, their blog is in French. I apologize to the non-francophones among us. Use Google Translate or something.

Hope you guys enjoyed. I encourage you, gentle readers, to comment.

Memoirs of a Robogeisha
or
Rectal Exsanguination

B-movies, gentle reader, make life worth living. There is no room for debate on the subject. If you don't agree with me, then I have no idea why you're still reading my blog.

The latest installment in Judas Phoenix Science Theater 3000 is a tale of sibling rivalry, the search for self-identity in a post-humanist cyborgian world, traditional Japanese arts, and mindless slaughter - all topped off with a heaping, gooey dose of sexploitation. Thanks to director Noboru Iguchi, I can satisfy every aspect of my "so-bad-it's-good" movie craving in one straight shot to the lizard brain.

Writing a general summary is boring, so if you really care about the general "plot" of this glorious piece of trash, feel free to read this paragraph stolen from IMDB:
Yoshie, the younger and ill-treated sister of a renowned Geisha, is discovered to have natural strength and fighting ability. She's recruited into an army of Geisha assassins by the rich and powerful owner of a steel-works, Kageno. During training large (and interesting) parts of their bodies are altered into weaponry directly linked to their brains. Yoshie soon realizes that Kagenos real plan is to have his robotic castle throw a new and very powerful nuclear bomb into the centre of Fuji-san, effectively destroying Japan entirely. With the help of other 'Kageno defectors', she sets out to stop him and his Tengu warriors.

Sounds pretty dry, no? In all truth, I'm impressed that anyone could make Robogeisha sound so coherent.

But we don't watch these things for riveting story lines, do we, gentle readers? No! Never, I say! We watch them because they're hilarious. We watch them for the shitty special effects, pulpy dialogue, and tits 'n ass. We watch them because they don't take themselves seriously.

Without further ado, I present some screenshots for your enjoyment:


Here's the Tengu warriors terrorizing a Japanese businessman:

I suppose that explains the angry, red dick-noses.

Those dick-tits aren't just for show. They mean business.

Defacing a nurse. Just because.

Our heroine prepares to strike at her sister.

Or maybe the sister is about to take a smack at our Heroine? They look so much alike, I couldn't tell for most of the movie who was who. WHAT? I'm not being racist. It's the pancake geishaface makeup. Geeze.

Ah, sibling rivalry. Big Sis gets a boob-gun . . .

Behold, the birth of a new fetish. A nation wanks . . . uh weeps. Weeps.

. . . so Little Sis has to get arm-pit swords . . .

Her pits shave themselves.

. . . and then Big Sis gets her head rewired . . .

I smell turquoise in here. 'Scuse me Mr. Nice Man, have you seen my mommy?
OH GOD, I CAN'T REMEMBER MY DOG'S NAAAAAAAAME!

. . . which means Little Sis has to turn into a tank . . .

No shit!

. . . everybody decides to get buttswords . . .

I'm going to invest in buttsword futures now, before buttfencing
becomes the national sport of Japan.

A schoolgirl also gets a sword in the butt. Not quite the same thing.

. . . asshurikens . . .



. . . and you know what they say: it's all fun and games, until someone gets a shrimp in the eye.


I know what you're thinking. Where's the guy in a monster suit, lumbering around a pint-sized mock-up of Tokyo? Here you go. A castle robot. This is a new one for me, too, and that's saying something.

Japanese skyscrapers have circulatory systems. No wonder their manufacturing
industry surpasses ours. BUY AMERICAN BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE.

Looks like a lot of fun, huh?

I give it an 8/10 for the genre. Go see Robogeisha. It's Japanese - so you know it's good!

Catsup
or
A Mell of a Hess

Very well, gentle readers. I see that you want an explanation of where I've been, and who I've been doing. Very well. For now, I shall give you the facts.

- Yes, the rumors are true. I was married to this guy Zack for a year or so.

- Zack and I divorced. He has a new life now, as well as a kid. Amazing, considering how he always told me how much he hated children. I don't have to rag on my ex husband. I'm sure his daily life is hell enough.

- I dropped out of Wash U. I wasn't enjoying my time there. Wasn't good for me. I think the stress shaved about half a decade off my life expectancy.

- I've been living by my wits and wiles ever since.

- I'll be going to mortuary college in about a year. I want to become a Mortician. This shouldn't surprise anyone.

- Las Vegas is my current base of operations.

- I'll be moving back to Saint Louis for a few months in August . . . so my friend can finish his degree.

- I feel like such a tool for facebook linking my ex husband. I want you all to know that.

- I am now an F cup. Haters can suck it. I love my big fake tits, and no one can spoil that for me. You will worship them, or get the fuck out. Ridiculous rack FOR THE WIN.

- My breasts weigh 2lbs each now. I subtract that when i weigh myself.

- My cat died. I'll do a memorial post when I can look at his pics and not cry.

- I got a new cat to fill the void. He's probably the messiest animal I've ever cared for. We nicknamed him "Puppy Cat" because he eats like a Labrador, wags his tail when pleased, and is easily 16lbs. Bigass tom cat. His name is Forest. I named him after Forest Whittaker, because he's big, black, cuddly, and has a messed-up eye. YA RLY

- Brazil nuts are loaded with selenium.

- I recently went to disneyland and rode all the thrill rides at least twice. I also proposed to Greg. Like I said, more on this later, with video.

Comments/questions are highly encouraged. I miss my old readership.