Friday, November 27, 2009

How to Be Rude: Burgers

**Let's go on ahead and exercise that inner jerk now shall we?

Order a VERY big meal, like a quarter pounder meal with twister fries, upsized, some chicken nuggets and a strawberry float. Have it for dine in, and then look for a very large person preferably eating alone. An obese woman is ideal; men just don't care about their fat asses or screaming waistlines as much as women do. Also, what she's eating counts: if she's indulging herself on a meal that's just as killer as what you're having, then forget it. Look for a large person who's eating a small meal, maybe a sprite and some fries no ketchup. Sit next to her, preferably opposite her so you can watch her... squirm. I suspect this to be the natural reaction when you're killing yourself on a diet plan while there are people who don't have no need for such narcissistic bullshit however healthy.

It's not my fault that I have a metabolism that creates sonic booms - so fast it breaks the sound barrier. It's a gift. It's not a super power meant to save the cheerleader, and then the world in consequence. Its not stopping time or walking through walls, and you can't imagine how such a blessing can be put to good use, so you might as well try to have fun with it. Which is what I'm doing. Now, it's important that this obese lady you're sharing a seat with knows what you are eating. Discretely look out for some semblance of acknowledgment, like an occasional glance from her at what's on your table. Feng shui counts, so make sure that your meal's well spread out to attract attention. Red sells, so you might want to have your nuggets, fries, and the strawberry float closest to her. Wait for her to steal a glance or two, and then go for the kill.

Eating, on its own, doesn't heighten the effect we're after. You will need to throw in as much theatrics as you can manage as you are indulging yourself in your heart attack lunch. Pick up your quarterpounder in one hand, hold it parallel to your face, and then slowly unwrap this meaty killer burger. Enjoy a few bites, love it!, before paying attention to your fries or nuggets, whichever you prefer. But the trick here is the ketchup. Take your half eaten quarterpounder down as you reach for a packet of ketchup. You know where to put the burger down (as visible as possible). And then, with the production value of a slow motion scene, proceed to bite that packet open, waay open such that it takes you about a few seconds to help yourself. However you garnish your burger is totally up to you, but we're after that great big pause.

Now, no matter what happens, try not to look at the subject of your torture. That totally defeats the discretion we're after. And that's just outwardly rude to begin with.

Pictures from here and here.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Horror Movie Review #34: Cloverfield

Directed By: Matt Reeves
Release Date: 30 January 2008 (Philippines)
Running Time: 85 minutes

Horror Type: Really big alien monsters.
Sex? - There was this one time, but it all drama. Pass.
Gore? -
Lacerations at best. Pass.

Must watch if you're not easily nauseous. Not because of the gratuitous gore or reckless dismemberment on account of this film's basically gay on those departments. Grab a bottle of strong ammonia because Cloverfield is the Blair Witch Project times ten. It's all that movement that gets to you. You probably have watched the Blair Witch Project, and you probably remember the vertigo caused by all that running and panicked screaming and overacting and what-have-you.

It doesn't have witches though, that would have been overkill, but it does have wonderfully rendered ginormous alien freakbeasts. We're out of the woods this time around; Manhattan's larger, and tempts varying degrees of vertigo. Okay, so the people are hot, and there might be some semblance of a story behind all that macho posturing, but its still shot using some gimmick that has seen better days. It maybe moderately engaging for the first thirty minutes, but you probably have an idea what happens after those monsters started to appear out of nowhere. The intensity simmers, and you might be feeling drowsy at that point.

You're rooting for the alien freakbeasts in the end. Just eat these people already.

Picture from Universal Causality

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Not a Review: Paranormal Activity

**It's more of an almost-there hunchback of a quasi-review.

So I went ahead and watched this movie under the impression that it's profitable. If it's profitable, then it must be good. But all the hype tells me its far better than good; it's so good it outsold the SAW series. Now that's big. Last time I checked, there was an impressive $20 million difference between total profit generated, and that's super big for some film that was shot with a $11000 budget.

It's profitable and it's big. So I went ahead and experienced Paranormal Activity to verify, for myself, if its really that good. Well, ninety minutes into this movie verified the PROFITABLE and the BIG parts; I'm still waiting for the GOOD part, but then final credits started rolling.

And that's basically the long and short of this moderately engaging haunting. So if you're watching this movie on a date, then at least make sure you're paying. At least there's some ACTION to look forward to at the end of the day, if you know what I mean.


Picture from

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

What is Erotic Asphxiation?

**So I learned me a fun, exciting phrase today. Kids, we now define: Erotic Asphyxiation.

Erotic asphyxiation refers to intentionally cutting off oxygen to the brain for sexual arousal. It is also called asphyxiophilia, autoerotic asphyxia, or breath control play. Colloquially, a person engaging in the activity is sometimes called a gasper.

You can call in sick, and there's your excuse! Well, it's either erotic asphyxiation or amnesia. On the off chance that your bosses wanted you to be more specific, then just tell them that there's something stuck in your throat. And you're really not in the position to be talking about it now because you feel like fainting in a few more minutes. Say it with attitude as much as possible because this kind of shit really wouldn't look good on paper, and you don't need them asking for a medical certificate of sorts.

I know the phrase itself leaves nothing to the imagination, or maybe a whole mouthful, depending on how kinky you claim to be. But then, inquiring minds want to know: If you were to choke on something during foreplay, then is that going to be a fine example of Erotic Asphyxiation? Aside from the calling in sick bit, I have yet to consider the practical applications of such an inquiry, but I'm sure it'll make for a good ice breaker.

See, you can choke on a lot of things during foreplay.

Picture from Marguerite on Deviant Art


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