Category Archives: Alaina’s Friend Sarah Recommends

Alaina’s Friend Sarah Recommends: FDR: American Badass

So a weekend ago, I house-sat for my parents. While there, I attempted to do a Netflix Roulette, because a) I realized the last time I did a Netflix Roulette was when Amelia and I watched Two Girls, An Abortion, and a Pizza Place, and b) I could use my mother’s laptop for the Netflix viewing and type the entry on my netbook, because I have yet to enter the next generation of technology and have no other ways to access streaming Netflix. (Please send any gently-used X-Boxes, Playstation 3s, Wiis, RoKus, or streaming Blu-Ray players to: Netflix Roulette, c/o Movie’s Alaina’s Never Seen. Cash donations are also greatly appreciated.)

I say “attempted” to do a Netflix Roulette, because I grew extremely tired halfway through and had to go to bed. But never fear, dear readers: I have the post saved. I would have tried to finish that first if it weren’t for Sarah sending me this tweet yesterday:

And it wasn’t just me – she told EVERYONE. She live-tweeted her watching of it, she tagged people in her Facebook status about it; this was the biggest deal since Hobo With a Shotgun. BUT, she also told me that, unlike Hobo With a Shotgun, this movie would actually be enjoyable. (I can hear Sarah yelling at me through the twitterverse that the movie is actually delightful, it gives you exactly what the title tells you, how could I not love that movie with all of my heart, apparently I’m broken, blah blah blah OKAY THE HOCKEY SKATE WAS PRETTY AWESOME I’LL GIVE YOU THAT.)

So tonight, I have enough time to watch this while still getting to bed before midnight (she says, optimistically). Oh, I should mention: because I have to use both my laptop and my netbook? Well, a few years ago, the screen on my laptop died, so it’s hooked into a monitor, so basically, this is my setup tonight:

2014-07-17 21.02.06

For science!

Now that I’m ready to go (WAIT I JUST REMEMBERED I HAVE BEERS beers won’t make me hungover, right? I have to work in the morning here), let’s take a closer look at that synopsis.


After contracting polio from a werewolf bite, FDR and a team of historic figures seek victory in World War II by defeating an army of Nazi werewolves.









(Aw, it didn’t attach the tweet I did after, wherein I said “I’M NOT DENYING THAT – I’M EMBRACING THIS CASTING CHOICE WHOLEHEARTEDLY”)

Also, Ray Wise is in this. Holy shit. Robin Scherbatsky’s (second) dad is in this. The Devil from Reaper is in this. Man, I love Ray Wise so much, you don’t even know.

Okay, Sarah’s chomping at the bit (read: sending me tweets every fifty seconds making sure I’ve pressed play), so let’s let my shoddy internet buffer and LET’S DO THIS.

Goddammit, laptop, what do you mean I have to re-activate SilverLight? WHY ARE YOU HOLDING THIS MOVIE OF ALL MOVIES HOSTAGE!?

God, technology hates me.  Okay.  HERE WE GO.

We start with FDR narrating a couple of pieces of paper. I flashback immediately to when the titular Ghost Hunter narrated her chyrons, but the dulcet tones of Barry Bostwick make this much better. Plus:

“Badassery is not born, but often thrust upon you. The film you are about to see is dedicated to Badasses everywhere. If you have to ask yourself if you are one, you’re probably not.”



We come upon FDR having a laugh about Woodrow Wilson’s dick [“That was Wilson for ya – he just didn’t give a fuck!” So Woodrow Wilson is the honey badger of the presidents?] when something runs back and forth between trees a few times, giving FDR enough time to scan the surrounding area with a pair of binoculars, and they learn that the thing running back and forth a few times is a werewolf, who looks like (much like the presidents do) he shopped at LL Bean, judging from his sporty flannel shirt. He jumps the Wilfred Brimley lookalike (you know the one, he’s in everything), who moans, “Why me? I’m fat and weak!” OH MY GOD THAT’S GOING ON MY TOMBSTONE

And then the guy who’s dressed up like Indiana Jones’s dad says, “we got to get to the cabin, Frank – werewolves carry polio!” And I know I read that in the summary up there, but I guess it didn’t register back then, because I’m dying of laughter right now. WEREWOLVES. with POLIO. I mean – I know we had the conversation in college, about what to do if a werewolf had AIDS, but we never even thought about polio! Oh my god. Oh my god.

Also, that’s the shittiest werewolf mask I’ve ever seen.

FDR shoots the werewolf, but doesn’t have silver bullets, because who uses silver bullets on a routine hunting party? There’s a GREAT MOMENT where the werewolf kills another guy by ripping his innards out and throwing them at Indiana Jones’s Dad, and Dad asks, “Why even take the time to do that?” AND THE WEREWOLF SHRUGS. HE JUST SHRUGS, YOU GUYS!

Then FDR gets bit, and wakes up in a hospital with Eleanor exclaiming over him.


Some Dude: How do you feel, Frank?
FDR, American Badass: Like a bag full of dicks at a lesbian convention.

Oh my god.

And then, because Eleanor doesn’t like language, he repeats it in a sucky French accent.


“You’ve got the polio, Frank.” OH MY GOD “THE POLIO”. And all Frank wants to know is if his dick still works. Bless him. Also, true to Weird Other Form, Dr. Ethan Rom had one of the nurses test his tackle out. Good news, everyone! His cock still works. Frank winks at the pretty nurse over Eleanor’s head, and oh my god, why did this movie not make a jillion dollars?

Apparently, wherever werewolves bite people, that’s where the polio sits. Which his why his legs are — HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS VISUAL AID TIME


HIS TINY LITTLE LEGS. OH MY GOD. They are flailing around like Kermit’s arms after an excellent episode of the Muppet Show. FDR comes to terms with the fact that he’ll never walk again and kindly tells Eleanor to shut the fuck up.

Dr. Ethan Rom takes Indiana Jones’s Dad out of the hallway and tells him he wants to show him something. Indiana Jones’s Dad – actually, now that I think about it, dude’s dressed more like Marcus than Sean Connery, so I’mma start calling him Marcus. Sorry for the confusion. Anyway, Marcus takes a gun out and threatens to shoot Dr. Ethan Rom if he tries any dick business. Ethan Rom says that he has something important to show him – important to the fate of all mankind.

He takes Marcus into the morgue, and he dramatically lifts up a sheet to reveal: a dead dude with a squirrel stuck up his ass. Marcus says, “What the fuck, dude” in this “are you kidding me” sort of way, it’s priceless. Ethan’s all, sorry, my bad, that’s the wrong dead dude, and instead reveals the dead werewolf, now in autopsy mode.

They reveal: a perfectly tattooed swastika on the werewolf’s stomach. “How can you be sure he’s German?” “Oh, he just happened to have stuck up his ass a vinyl of Beethoven’s greatest symphonies, Mein Kampf, and also, a German-English dictionary.” Marcus and Ethan decide to hide the Nazi werewolf from Frank.

Frank doesn’t want to use the wheelchair, but then a ten-year-old kid who also has polio comes in, and inspires FDR to get in the chair. A of all, there is no way that actor is ten. Timmy/Tommy is 19 at best. B of all, MARCO POLIO OH MY GOD.

A douchebag reporter wants to know how FDR will feel as the first invalid president. I’m surprised he didn’t make a crack at William Howard Taft. (Oh come on, we were all thinking it.) But essentially, FDR decides to run for president. I WONDER HOW THAT’S GOING TO END UP.

Marcus tells Eleanor she has to ride up front on FDR’s shriveled little legs because there’s a dead werewolf in the trunk. HAHA wait what?


Eleanor goes to sleep in the guest room because she can’t share a bed with a cripple. Marcus goes in to check on Frank and asks him how he’s doing. He had trouble getting into bed – “I was as nervous as a ten-year-old in a whorehouse” (sooo, childhood Don Draper? ZING). FDR reads his announcement for presidency in the paper, and is appalled that there’s nothing in the paper about the fact that his dick still works. Marcus is more concerned about the werewolf being German and apparently Lincoln was also attacked by a werewolf before he ran for president? Oookay. Anyway, they’re going to keep the werewolf on ice until he becomes president.

FDR goes on a campaign trail, taking names, cracking wise, and letting eeryone know that his dick works. Until he gets to Jersey, when a dockrat starts telling a story about some guy named Tommy. Wait, wasn’t he the kid back at the hospital?

ACTUAL DIALOGUE TRANSCRIPTION TIME (I’m gonna make a banner for that… not tonight … next time.)

Dockrat: Tommy used to work on the docks. Union’s been on strike, he’s down on his luck. It’s tough.
FDR, American Badass: So tough. What happened to him?
Dockrat: He got so depressed, he tried to off himself.
FDR, American Badass: And who’s taking care of him?
Dockrat: His wife, Gina. Gina works the diner, all day. Workin’ for … [sobs.]

OH MY GOD. That was beautiful and completely unexpected; I LOVE THIS.


FDR, American Badass: I am not going to leave you living on a prayer!

Bless you, movie.

So FDR heads to Warm Springs, Georgia and meets a Clark Gable lookalike and his pretty wife, who not only has great melons, but her tits are perky too, and she offers to go down on FDR and Marcus. Clark Gable has no problem with this. I’m getting reminders of Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle with this.

And then there’s a scene about racism that’s actually quite funny, but transforming it into a liveblog might not translate well, so I’m just going to skip it.

Clark Gable – who is apparently Jimmy Carter’s uncle – takes FDR to the hot springs. He tells the story about how Clark Gable – whose name is actually Cleavon – got attacked by a werewolf years ago. He got a mild case of the polio, but he’s able to keep it in check with blowjobs from Peaches.

FDR offers Cleavon a position of Vice President in charge of Hot Tubs if he wins the presidency. This scene is going on entirely too long, but it highlights Cleavon’s ability to generate tears and spittle, so kudos.

Finally, it’s election night and FDR wins every state except for six plus Maine. Dammit, Maine, what is wrong with you?

The Roosevelts celebrate by … well … shit gets really fucking weird. Eleanor takes her bra off, Roosevelt’s son James shits in a vase … seriously, what the fuck is going on?

While Roosevelt gets driven to Washington, Hitler, Mussolini and Hiro Hito get on a three-way conference. Oh, and all of these people are werewolves. The guy playing Mussolini-Wolf looks familiar, which is really weird to me. Hold on. *To the imdb!* HOLY SHIT THAT’S STAN FROM IN PLAIN SIGHT! STAAAAAAAAN? WHAT DID YOU DOOOOO?

FDR makes his first radio speech, and it is full of excellent good stuff:
– “Hoover was great. They’ll probably name a dam or a vacuum cleaner after him.”
– “This is the Delano, signing off.”
– “I was freestyling son.”

And then there’s this, from a florist to James Roosevelt, who is again crapping in a vase:
“If your father wasn’t President, I’d steam your chest like Grover Cleveland!”

The Batsignal/Seal joke never EVER gets old.




holy shit you guys.

“My father was a midget so I’ll keep it short.” Holy shit, you guys. I want to hug this movie so hard.

“We’re the United States Government. Anything’s legal.”
FDR, American Badass: “Fuck yeahhhhh.”

Apparently alcohol’s being imported into America, and all of the booze is tainted with Werewolf venom. Anyway, Dougie Mack wants to outfit FDR, and does so, with….THE DELANO 2000. It’s a wheelchair with a shitload of silver bullets, plus two rocket launchers. That thing is fucking sweet.

Flash to Baltimore Harbor, where three Italian werewolf mooks are trying to unload some tainted wine. The werewolves make a lot of puns, which I love, and then FDR starts shooting the shit out of them. I’m assuming this scene is one big allusion to probably both Godfather and Scarface, what with the opera in the soundtrack, but a) I’ve never seen those movies (THEY’RE ON THE LIST), and b) anytime someone puts a lot of violence and blood over an operatic soundtrack, I just think of Hannibal and then a tiny piece of my soul dies because February is so far away, you guys!


FDR, American Badass: The Delano don’t give a fuck!

And then he rolls away on his wheelchair ahead of a big ass explosion. It’s kind of epic, you guys.

FDR ends Prohibition, and Mussolini calls Hitler, who is playing Beer Pong with what I can only assume is Naked Eva Braun. They get Hiro Hito on the line and try to figure out how to take over the world. They’re going to invade their neighboring countries and make everyone werewolves. It’s not as quick as turning all the college drinkers of America into werewolves, but it’ll work.

Churchill goes to meet with FDR and Dougie Mack, and enters into an alliance. Cleavon offers the lease of his wife (who looks damned familiar, but I’ll be damned if I can remember her from anything specific), and everyone is okay with this plan.

Churchill asks for troops to help out England, and FDR’s secretary offers to give him a massage. He thinks she’s talking about a neck rub, but she starts rubbing and licking his legs, which do not look very shriveled anymore. Then the secretary tells FDR that she was a hot-dog eating champion at Coney Island, and she pulls … mustard and ketchup out from her garters? and starts squirting the condiments all over his legs, and it’s weird. Eleanor walks in, and she says, “It’s time for Eleanor Roosevelt to strong-arm a ho.” OH HELL YES

Dougie Mack brings in Eisenhower (code name: Dewdrop) and they agree to go to war. FDR, still in his pajamas with his fedora, is stressed out, so he goes to the Oval Office, where his butler lets him know that George Washington kept pot in the third drawer on the right. FDR lights up a joint, and then MOTHERFUCKING ABE LINCOLN POPS OUT OF HIS PICTURE FRAME AND STARTS TALKING AND DID I MENTION IT’S FUCKING KEVIN SORBO PLAYING LINCOLN? NO I DON’T THINK I DID.

Before we know it, FDR and Lincoln are laying on the roof, passing the joint back and forth and stargazing. FDR feels slightly sorry for Lincoln’s plight, who replies, “Mary Todd had to go to that fucking play. Bitch.” Lincoln gives FDR a pep talk, and then he flies him around Washington. But then he wakes up in the Oval Office hugging a bust of a bald eagle.

The next day, he goes to speak to the smallest contingent of D-Day soldiers ever committed to celluloid. Seriously, this army only has seven dudes. But he tells everyone that he’s going to fly the first plane. Oh, so maybe this is actually the bombing of Hiroshima? I’m not sure. What I am sure of is that logic has no place in this movie, and I love it for it. FDR ends his speech by saying “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself. Now let’s go kick some werewolf ass!”

I’m not really sure where the Delano was fighting, but it sounds like the plane’s goin’ down. Eleanor asks Marcus for a drink, and he hands her a bottle. She chugs it, and all she needed to do was this and this movie may have supplanted Raiders of the Lost Ark as my most favorite movie ever (but she didn’t, so have no fear, Indy; you’re still number one:)


FDR struggles to get back into the Delano 2000, because with the rocket launchers he’d at least be able to land. It looks like a no go, but then! Cleavon Buford pops out of a trunk where he had stowed himself away, and he helps put Delano in the Delano 2000 and they both bail out.

As they’re falling with style, I see this


and immediately think of this


but because Cleavon isn’t wearing a parachute, he ends up dying. But he manages to find Hitler and shoot him to shit. Hitler fulfills his destiny by dying in a ditch.

But Frank manages to roll himself back to Washington, and he announces his return by asking, “Who ordered the honky with a side of polio?” Oh my god, you guys – this movie. Eleanor looks like she’s gonna strong-arm a ho again, but they end up reconciling. And by “reconciling,” she means he’s going to be – how’d she put it? – “ridden like a pony at the state fair tonight.”

Roosevelt rolls fireside to address the nation, and the final words in the movie are:
“Allow me to reintroduce myself: it’s Franklin Delano Roosevelt, motherfuckers!”

OH MY GOD YOU GUYS. YOU GUYS. I don’t want to say that this movie makes up for Hobo With a Shotgun (mainly because I don’t want Sarah to gloat about that), but it TOTALLY DOES. This movie is …. the only comparison I can make for it right now is by detailing it like a Stefon club recommendation. This movie has EVERYTHING. Violence, nudity, stoner Abraham Lincoln, L.L.Bean werewolves, a human valet service –

“Stefon, what’s a human valet service?”

– It’s that thing, where a midget with polio brings your wheelchair right to you at the end of the night?

ANYWAY. Thank you, Sarah, for recommending the amazing movie that is FDR: American Badass. I’d gush more, but I’ve got to be on the road to go to work in 6.5 hours, so I’m gonna go the fuck to sleep. If I graded movies anymore, I’d give it five stars. But since I don’t grade … make up something.


Posted by on July 18, 2014 in Alaina's Friend Sarah Recommends


Alaina’s Friend Sarah Recommends: Scrooged

Last week, I – along with 18 million other people – watched the live edition of The Sound of Music.  I watched because I liked the Julie Andrews movie as a child, and I knew it was different from the stage show, and since this was the stage show, I really watched it out of curiosity, rather than hate-watching or love.  And let’s be real for a second: bless Carrie Underwood.  She did the best she could considering she is a self-admitted non-actress.  She belted the songs out very well, and while she struggled with some of the emotional scenes, it’s not like she had someone amazing playing Captain Von Trapp, either.

But let’s also bless NBC (which is not something I would have thought I’d ever do) for showing live theatre on television again.  And that led to this exchange of tweets between me and My Friend Sarah:

(PS – Hey Sarah I’m sorry I never asked your permission to post your tweets on my blog but I figured I had tacit permission because you’re on the internet and I’m on the internet and we talk to each other on the internet and you must’ve figured this would happen at some point but if you want me to take it down just let me know and I’ll be a better person)

...this happens more often than you'd think. 

So no, I’ve never seen Scrooged.  Growing up, my Christmas movie of choice was The Muppet Christmas Carol.  Then it was A Christmas Story, and there are only nine more days until that marathon – prepare yourself, Mom!  And of COURSE there’s the best Christmas movie in the history of ever, Die Hard.  (I am also partial to Elf.)  And I almost thought my dad would have it on DVD, but the only Scrooge he truly loves is Albert Finney from Scrooge

Anyway, My Friend Sarah told me that I had to watch Scrooged, and since we were having this conversation during December and not, y’know, June, you’d think I’d be able to find a copy of it somewhere for free to get it off my list quickly so I could move on to the likes of Rubber and Dead Poets Society.

You’d think wrong.

How hard is it to find a movie?

Netflix has it – but only on DVD.  I don’t have Amazon Prime, because I’m po’.  When I tried out Hulu, their search engine asked me – and this is true – if I meant to type “crooked.”  No, I did not, but I have a feeling that may be a Chekhov’s Query?

When I checked if I could get it through OnDemand on the DVR, the result is that I would have to pay for it.  To which I give a resounding FUCK THAT SHIT! 

So this leaves me with two options: One, I could watch the first disc of Deadwood and then immediately get Scrooged on DVD, or … I could watch it on the only channel that is showing Scrooged in the near future, apparently.

That channel is ABC Family.

Dear God, why?  Why, of all channels, does it have to be ABC Family?  It takes four hours to watch one Harry Potter film – and the Harry Potter films are already three hours long!  And it’s Bill Murray – while some of ABC Family’s biggest hits deal with teen pregnancy and little liars that are apparently also very pretty, they don’t deal with a lot of swearing.

So here’s the deal: as much as I hate doing this, in the interest of time and the season, I taped it off of ABC Family, and will use that version to do this edition of the blog. 

HOWEVER.   If the movie starts by saying that it has been edited to run in the time allotted, FUCK THAT SHIT.  The whole point of doing this blog is to watch movies I’ve never seen, not 94% of movies I’ve never seen.  I can deal with being edited for content – I can imagine they’re saying things that are even worse! – but the possibility that there might be minute scenes that I would miss?  Well, that’s why I still don’t consider myself to have seen the Goddamned Shawshank Redemption, because while I’ve seen the last two-thirds of it, it was on AMC.  You KNOW AMC edits shit.

So … let’s give this a shot, shall we?  Fingers crossed!



I – I –

Okay, I just took something to calm me down.  (Thanks, Mom’s Peanut Butter Balls!  It’s not a Patterson Family Christmas until Alaina and Missy have fought over Mom’s Peanut Butter Balls!)  Also, I checked IMDB: the official running time of Scrooged is 101 minutes.  That’s barely an hour and a half.  This edition runs for 2 hours on ABC Fam – oh shit, they cut out like, what, ten minutes for commercials?

HEY WAIT IMMA PLAY A GAME: How much screen time do I actually see?  Fair warning, though: the minute I start getting pissed, all bets are off, I’ll watch Deadwood and then get the real thing on DVD, and tonight I’ll watch the winter finale of Once Upon a Time because REASONS.  (Namely, Hook & Emma.)

PS I’m also using my phone as a stopwatch because I can.  For science!

We open at the North Pole, apparently.  There are children and midgets dressed up as elves, and then there’s a meteor headed straight for the workshop, and everyone runs for the – for the gun cabinet??  And then Lee Majors shows up?? WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?


Also, Bob Goulet’s Old-Fashioned Cajun Christmas?  I – as long as he sings “Down Mexico Way” I am IN.

Oh, right, Bill Murray’s supposed to be a TV producer.  (Oh, and I totally stopped timing because I had to pause the TV to laugh at Bob Goulet getting chased by a crocodile covered in tinsel.)

“We spent $40 million on a live TV show – you guys have got an ad with America’s favorite old fart, reading a book, in front of a fireplace!  And now, I have to kill all of you!”  Now I know why Sarah was comparing The Sound of Music to this movie.  I get it now.

Is it just me, or is the guy in glasses telling Bill Murray that they’ve been showing the ads for a month a 1988 version of Charlie Day?

Christ, I would not watch Bill Murray’s version of Scrooge.  I don’t want nuclear wars mixed in with my Dickens.

Okay, seriously, who is this glasses guy?  I’m seriously getting a Charlie Day vibe. 

THAT’S FUCKING BOBCAT GOLDTHWAITE???  I thought he was fatter …

Hmm, I’m pretty sure Grace didn’t say “Aw Jeez” when Bill Murray said her bonus was a towel.  I’m guessing it was an “Aw shit.”

Programming for cats?  That guy has got to be the guy who told Mitch Hurwitz to have Michael teach George Michael “a nice lesson.”

Ooh, popcorn on a tree.  I have caramel corn.  Be right back. 

This is convenient, because we are 15 minutes in and we have our first commercial break.  Let’s take a moment and figure out who everyone’s lining up to be:

Bill Murray = Ebeneezer Scrooge.  Duh.  Not sure if he’s the Michael Caine Scrooge, or the Scrooge McDuck Scrooge.  But we’ll figure it out as we go.
Bobcat Goldthwaite = The Guys From the Orphanage (Dr. Benson Honeydew and Beaker)
Grace the Secretary = Bob Cratchit.  Interesting adaptation, as in this version, she is female and black.  Yay acceptance!
Grace’s Mute Son = Tiny Tim.  In 1988 it is apparently better to be mute than crippled.  (GUYS SERIOUSLY READ A BOOK, TINY TIM WAS A CRIPPLE IT’S OKAY FOR ME TO USE THAT WORD)
Bill Murray’s brother = “Nephew Fred.”  We see him for all of two seconds, and he asks Bill Murray to cook Christmas dinner and then he disappears again.

Because now the commercial break is over and Bill Murray’s pouring a straight vodka in his office, screaming for Grace, and SERIOUSLY THIS WAS MADE IN THE EIGHTIES, DUDE HAS A BOTTLE OF VODKA AND A .38 SPECIAL IN HIS DESK DRAWER

Anyway, the creature rapping on Bill Murray’s chamber door is Bill Murray’s dead business partner who APPARENTLY HAS A MOUSE RUNNING AROUND IN HIS HEAD.  EW.  EWWWWWWWWWW!!!!  WHAT THE FUCK, PEOPLE?

(Damn, the Cryptkeeper sounds familiar.  Who is this dude?  HOLY SHIT THAT’S CHARLIE.  OF CHARLIE’S ANGELS.  WHAT THE FUCK, DUDE)

Please say something about angels, please say something about angels, please say something about angels

So what, in this version the ghosts come during the day?  That doesn’t seem very ghost-like.






This is how this conversation is going to go:

Sarah: Oh yeah
Sarah: She was in that.
Sarah: Much like Anne Baxter was in The Ten Commandments.
Sarah: But you never asked
Sarah: And it never came up
Sarah: But yeah, she’s in that.

No, you guys, we need to talk about Marion Ravenwood.  She is – well, I guess I’m not allowed to say ‘spirit animal’ anymore, but she’d definitely be my Patronus.  When I grow up, I want to be Marion Ravenwood.  Sure, she gets kidnapped, but she hits a couple of guys with frying pans first.  She is able to drink at least three different men under three different tables, and is canny enough to do so and try and maneuver an escape.  She gives great bicker, she knows her shit, and she doesn’t take shit, either.  I did a drunk!tweet of Raiders of the Lost Ark a few months ago, and #ProTipForDudes: if I offer to buy you a drink – y’know, a drink? – you had BEST keep both hands in your pockets and stick out your elbow for me to take, or else you are going home alone, buddy.

Also, in the apparently-highly-unlikely-event of me ever getting married, I will be wearing a modern version of the dress Rene Belloq gives to Marion in Tannis.  Just so’s you know.

Okay, back to the show.

Uh, no, be right back, I think my teapot is burning.

(No seriously, I have a hole in my teapot.  And I forgot to put “new teapot” on my Christmas list.  Oh well; guess I’ll see who reads my blog now!)

Okay, so, back to the movie I’m watching.  Marion Ravenwood shows up and apparently she is the Belle to Bill Murray’s Scrooge.  Before leaving, Charlie the Dead Guy dead-dialed Marion but didn’t let Bill Murray leave a message.  So she shows up at the studio the next day as he’s taking care of Scrooge business, and she shows up conveniently at noon.  DUH DUN DUNNNNNN

And now we have our second commercial break in about thirty minutes.  Well, at least we’re being consistent?  FAST-FORWARD

Bill Murray and his boss are ordering highballs when we get back from the break.  I would also like a highball, but probably not the same way those guys do.  Oh boy, I really hope my mother’s not reading this, the possibility of a new teapot notwithstanding.  Also, apparently they’re ordering highballs at noon, because Bill Murray seems to think the LA slimeball we saw earlier is his Ghost of Christmas Past, but he’s not, because there’s an eyeball in his highball, but it turns out it’s just a really big ball of ice.  Balls.

Bill Murray’s having hallucinations of busboys catching on fire.  Dude, chill, he’s just wearing an on-fire suit.  Although if he’s a cosplay enthusiast, then there must be busboys in Azeroth or wherever. 

Bill Murray runs out to catch a cab and it just so happens that it’s being driven by the Ghost of Christmas Past.  Bazinga!  The Ghost also steals Bobcat Goldthwaite’s whiskey, because Bobcat Goldthwaite’s having that kind of a day. 

The cab then proceeds to time-travel.  IF THE CAB GOES BACK TO 1955, I CALL BULLSHIT.  THAT, SIR, IS NO DELOREAN.

— Goes back to 1955 as Alaina predicted – BUUULLLL SHIT

Anyway, the Ghost has driven Bill Murray up to his childhood home, and his house is the only one with no Christmas Lights.  Bill Murray tries to pass it off as his father’s lack of doing, to which the Ghost says, “For Satan’s sakes, Frank, it’s Christmas Eve!”  For whose sake?  Because that totally sounded dubbed.

Frank had a very sad childhood.  Instead of a train, four-year-old Francis gets a shit-ton of veal from Brian Doyle-Murray, which is sad for so many reasons.  And then we go to another commercial just as Bill Murray chokes back tears.

When we come back, the Ghost brings him to Fezziwig’s Christmas party.  He leaves the party for some reason and runs into Marion Ravenwood who opens a door right into his face.  They have a meet!cute, which is apparently what people call them nowadays.  Aw, the cab company is named the Belle cab company.  Literary reference!

Marion Ravenwood gives Bill Murray an inscribed edition of the Kama Sutra, but she inscribed it in Sanskrit.  Which she learned when she was drinking people under the table in Nepal!!  My head-canon is coming together nicely!

Anyway, the last scene the Ghost gives us is when Bill Murray breaks up with Marion Ravenwood because she won’t break their plans for an evening with friends to have dinner with Charlie the Network President.  She leaves him to go back to being Frisbee the Dog (?) and the Ghost then drops him back in the studio, just as the cast of his Scrooge are rehearsing the scene where Belle dumps Ebeneezer for being too greedy.  FORESHADOWING.

Okay, took a break for the season finale of Masters of Sex and now we’re back.  Only to go right into a commercial break.  Goddammit, ABC Family, you’re killing me.

Okay, Bobcat Goldthwaite has just given blood for money and landed in a pile of garbage.  Bill Murray is screaming to himself as he walks down a sidewalk in New York.  Much like other crazy people in New York.  The people at the homeless shelter mistake him for not only a crazy homeless person, but Richard Burton? 

OH SPEAKING OF RICHARD BURTON everyone go pour one out for apparently not only the great and illustrious Peter O’Toole (who, if there is a God, is tearing up Heaven with Burton and his other pal, Richard Harris, and please God, when I die, I want to be a part of that crowd), but also the amazing and beautiful Joan Fontaine.  Seriously, dudes, apparently today is not a good day to be a favorite actor of Alaina.


Anyway, they’re asking Bill Murray to recite Hamlet and Night of the Iguana, and man, that’s a weird show.  Marion Ravenwood hears Bill Murray reciting Hamlet in Bill Murray’s Impersonation of Richard Burton, which is a lot of mumbling.  When some volunteers come up asking about fuses and turkeys, though, Bill Murray goes into some more crazy-town and tells the volunteers to handle it themselves, because he’s busy trying to woo Marion or something.  Except Marion (rightly) gets pissed at Bill Murray, especially when he tells her to fire her volunteers.

So he goes storming back to his castle (hahahaha that joke will be HILARIOUS in about two minutes) to have a run-in with the LA slimeball whose name I forgot, and then he goes right into his 2 p.m. conniption fit, right on schedule, where Carol Kane flies down from the rafters wearing an amazing pink fairy ensemble.  She’s advertising the Ballcracker Suite, and her “hello” to Bill Murray is a nicely-timed kick to the Benoit Balls.  Then she backhands him, saying, “Sometimes you have to slap them in the face just to get their attention!”  So true.

I like this Ghost of Christmas Present.  I always felt that Christmas Carols needed more violence.

Apparently Grace’s Tiny Tim stopped speaking when she witnessed his father’s murder.  But even after that tragedy, the family is still able to be amazingly happy.  Carol Kane Ghost gets a few more belts in and makes Bill Murray promise to give Grace a well-deserved raise, and then she kicks him down a flight of stairs and right into a commercial.

When we come back, they’re at a Christmas party at his brother’s apartment.  HOLY SHIT THAT’S WENDIE MALICK!  Also, HAHAHAHA I SERIOUSLY LOVE CAROL KANE “I know something you don’t know, I don’t know something you don’t know!”  And then she belts him with a toaster.

“The bitch hit me with a toaster.”  HAHAHAHAHA

Anyway, he’s down in a frozen sewer or something.  He finds one of the homeless guys from the shelter, frozen dead in the sewer.  Bill Murray starts to feel regret and wants to escape but when he tries to barrel through the door he barrels right back onto the Scrooge set, and manages to kick a barrel right into the censor that he hit a couple of acts ago.  Good going, Bill Murray.

“Break a leg, everybody!  I feel real weird about tonight!”  I am going to start saying that every day.  Why hasn’t that become a thing?

Okay, SHENANIGANS.  Charles Dickens’s immortal classic was A Christmas Carol, not Scrooge.  Scrooge was a character, but Dickens did not name the novella after his character.  I might be nitpicking, but hi, my name is Alaina and I’m a literature nerd.

Scrooge starts, Bill Murray goes upstairs to his office after a run-in with the actor playing the Ghost of Christmas Future in the show, and opens the present from his brother: a picture frame of the two of them sharing a childhood hug.  Awwww.  Commercial.  DAMMIT, ABC FAMILY, WAY TO RUIN THE MOMENT.

Bill Murray’s drinking vodka and Tab – so Eighties, right there – when the Ghost of Christmas Future is about to pick Bill Murray up and take him to the future when Bobcat Goldthwaite comes into the office with a shotgun, and I’m a horrible person, but the first thing I thought of was Jonathan Levinson from that episode of Buffy

Bill Murray runs into the elevator and right into the Ghost of Christmas Future.  He thinks he’s the actor, but it’s not – it’s the real deal.  The Ghost brings Bill Murray to an institution where Grace’s Tiny Tim is locked up.  He promises to fix it because he knows the head of pediatrics at NYU, and then he finds Marion Ravenwood all dolled up like Joan Collins in Dynasty.  She’s ignoring poor children because thirty minutes ago, Bill Murray told her to scrape the poor children off her so she can save herself.

And then he thinks his brother died, but as anyone who’s ever read or watched any version of A Christmas Carol knows that he’s pulling a Tom Sawyer and watching his own funeral.  As he’s burned alive, he promises to make everything better.

When he returns to the real world, he almost eats Bobcat Goldthwaite’s shotgun (and there’s a sentence I never thought I’d type), and he rehires him and then they take off because they haven’t missed Christmas yet and hopefully this is the final commercial break.

Two things about commercials:

– Whoa, L.L. Bean: did you really just use your return policy as incentive for gift-giving?  Yeah, that won’t blow up in your face later.
– Dear Whoever Thought The J.C. Penney Carolers Were a Good Idea: I will kill you when I learn who you are.  You, sir, are the WORST THING about Christmas.  (I feel comfortable calling this unknown entity a ‘sir’ – no woman would have thought changing the lyrics “Fa la la la la” to “shop shop shop shop shop” was a good idea.)

Bill Murray has taken over the broadcast of Scrooge to do his own version of Ebeneezer’s moment of understanding.  Bobcat Goldthwaite receives a phone call from the president, and he wants to talk to the idiot that put ‘that moron’ on the air.  Meanwhile, I just learned what happens when an idiot leaves a 12-pack of Diet Coke on a very cold porch.  In other words, I have a 12-pack of exploded Diet Coke, and I’m out three bucks.

Marion Ravenwood races to the studio, and Bill Murray has an amazing speech that is too great for me to transcribe, and then Grace’s Tiny Tim comes up (because he was watching the production from backstage), and he pulls on Bill Murray’s coat and Bill Murray asks, “Did I forget something, Big Man?”  And Tiny Tim nods and says, “God bless us, every one,” and when did someone break into my house and start chopping onions?  I mean, there are a lot of onions being chopped up in here.  Even Bill Murray can smell them.

And in another Christmas miracle, a cab did manage to take Marion Ravenwood all across New York in three minutes.  Does anyone have a prettier smile than Marion Ravenwood?  Seriously, she has one of the best smiles.

This movie started off a little slow, but I think I’m going to blame ABC Family for any bad feelings I had about it. 

Thank you, Sarah, for insisting I watch this.  Please don’t be offended at my rant.  I was yelling at ABC Family, not this movie.


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Posted by on December 16, 2013 in Alaina's Friend Sarah Recommends


Alaina’s Friend Sarah Recommends: “Hobo With a Shotgun”

Sarah, this one’s for you.  As such, expect to be quoted.  A LOT.

Sarah and I have a history, in that she pushes me to read and/or watch things that she KNOWS is bad, all because she wants to hear my reactions.  Usually — I think I’m right in this, but feel free to correct me if I’m wrong — because Sarah and I think the same things about the same things.

I think the first thing she made me read and/or watch was — well, technically, it was The Boondock Saints, but I’m not going to count that because a) of all, I would have ended up watching it on my own, but most importantly b) of all, that movie is fucking fantastic and easily on my Top Ten List.  So really, the first thing was DecadentI believe the —

Uh, hold up.  I realize I need to take a momentary digression.

Dear People I Used To Work With Who May Read This Blog But Probably Don’t Follow My Book Blog (Especially the Male Friends): Yeah, I read erotica.  Deal with it.  Hey, go ahead and read the review – you’ll laugh your fucking ass off.  Which, once you read either the next paragraph or that review, you’ll realize that I may have just saved your life. 

Oh, and just so we’re clear, Aforementioned Friends and Everyone Else: the ONLY way I will EVER read Fifty Shades of Gray is if Ian Somerhalder is cast as the dude in the movie.  That is an iron-clad dealbreaker (heh – iron-clad, BDSM — I get it).  I won’t ever read it otherwise, so don’t even try to make me.

ANYWAY.   I had just finished reading another book by Shayla Black, and Sarah messaged me, and I believe the conversation went: You HAVE to read Decadent.  There’s a line in it, swear to God, that says: “Fucking her ass, saving her life.”  And I went, “No WAY is it THAT bad.”

But lo, it was.  Thanks, Sarah.

So in the midst of this project known as Movies Alaina’s Never Seen, Sarah and the rest of the H2 crowd have been pinging me with movies I need to watch that aren’t necessarily on Empire’s Top 500 List.  (And I’ll be talking about that at a later date.)  So forthwith, the conversations between me and Sarah getting me to this point tonight:

Last night, while the Roommate and I were watching Two Guys, a Girl, and an Abortion Clinic –
Sarah: DUDE!  HOBO WITH A SHOTGUN!  WATCH HOBO WITH A SHOTGUN!  I want to read what you write about that film!
Alaina: READ MY CAPSLOCK WE’LL WATCH IT TOMORROW We can’t get out of this Romanian film – we need to know how it ends!
Sarah: Dude … once you watch Hobo with a Shotgun, you are going to regret not taking my advice tonight.  Just sayin’.
Oh, I have plenty of alcohol.  I’ll get liquored up right tomorrow.

My sister on Facebook: why … WHY WOULD YOU CONSIDER WATCHING HOBO WITH A SHOTGUN!!?!?!?!?!?! Don’t do it — for your own well-being, I’ve seen the trailer – just walk away!
Alaina: It’s a social experiment.  My pain is funny to other people.  Sarah is making me.  Because of the name.  For science!
My sister: well then for the name of sanity, get a bottle of tequila.
Alaina: Please.

Sarah: We’re watching Hobo With a Shotgun again so my roommate’s BF can watch it.  I want to hear your reactions!
Alaina: I’m finishing my recap of Great Expectations for the book blog but will be watching it before bed.  Promise.
Sarah: Dude.  History has thousands of assessments of Great Expectations and none whatsoever of Hobo with a Shotgun.
Sarah: You’re basically Batman right now.  The world needs you and your reviews.
Sarah: I’m going to stay up until you’ve finished this movie.  I need to hear your thoughts and impulses and rage hahahaha

So I could be incredibly mean and see if Sarah meant that she literally would stay up until I watched the movie and then wait a week, but I love my friends and it’s well-established that I’m a masochist.  So I’ve poured myself a Weevil (my name for Pear Vodka and Cranberry Juice, because no, Brad, it’s not a Fogcutter, and since you’re wrong and haven’t named it yet, it falls to me to name it, and I’m naming it after myself and my Veronica Mars counterpart because we are both awesome) and tweeted Sarah to alert her that it’s beginning.

I have NO IDEA what this movie is about, by the way.  But I presume it involves a hobo and, possibly, a shotgun?

Sarah: Hobo Drinking game: anytime someone swears, any instance of gratuitous violence, any instance of “WTF?!” dialogue
Sarah: I dare you to play the drinking gane AND not black out
Alaina: Challenge accepted!

Okay … let’s do this.

A bum rolls into town hoping to start over, only to find his adopted city saturated in violence and ruled by a vicious crime lord known as the Drake.

The Drake … like, from Darkwing Duck?  Does the Hobo fight a duck?  PLEASE LET THE HOBO FIGHT A DUCK

Okay … Sarah, you’re kidding me with this, right?  It’s Canadian?  From Nova Scotia!?  There are too many jokes, not enough time for this, and I’m three seconds in.  Do I go the “Canada, you ruined this” route, much like Barney Stinson every time Robin says something particularly Canadian?  Or do I reference the New Scotlander Revolutionary front from that episode of Archer?  (“IS THAT BABOU?!  HE REMEMBERS ME!”)

So Rutger Hauer – which is a name I should be able to place in another, less obscure movie, but can’t for the life of me – is a hobo pushing a shopping cart through apparently the worst neighborhood in all of Nova Scotia.  He sees someone break into a person’s car, and guys, what kind of idiot parks their car in Hobo Alley?  As he continues to push his cart and mumble about spare change, he comes upon a bumfight.

A BUMFIGHT.  BEING VIDEOTAPED BY AN ASSHOLE who wants Rutger Hauer to join in for a measly ten dollars.  That’s Canadian dollars, by the way.  And all I can think of is: Logan Echolls!  How the mighty have fallen!  And also, LOOK WHAT I DID THERE I’ve already come full circle with the Veronica Mars reference and I’m only three minutes in.  I think that deserves a drink.


Alaina: How did that idiot get his face stuck in a manhole?! #heheheh #thatswhatshesaid

And then this little guy who’s like the Canadian Joe Pesci in a white suit shows up and puts Manhole Guy in a manhole and apparently Manhole Guy’s name is LOGAN WHAT THE HELL VERONICA MARS and talks some shit about how nobody messes with The Drake, and apparently the Drake is not a duck?  Fuck.  ANYWAY, they put a barbed wire noose around Logan, and then Drake’s punk nephew Ivan drives off in his truck with the noose attached to it and WHAT THE FUCK THEY JUST RIPPED THE GUY’S HEAD OFF but worst of all this random chick in a white bikini and a fur coat fucking DANCES IN THE RAIN OF BLOOD THAT IS SPEWING FROM LOGAN’S NECKHOLE


Apparently Rutger Hauer really wants a lawn mower?  Why does he need a lawn mower?!  HE DOESN’T HAVE A LAWN

Uh oh – some punkass just spit on Rutger Hauer’s Lawn Mower Sign.  Will the Shit start to go down now?

Oh my god that old guy looks like Leonard from Community!  I love Leonard!  Unlike Jeff, but — HOLY SHIT THEY JUST SMASHED LEONARD’S HEAD IN BETWEEN TWO BUMPER CARS WHAT THE FUCK And then Ivan’s beating up on some kid who reminds me of Fat Neil, also from Community, and this blonde chick comes up and tells Ivan to let it slide.

Ivan: The only thing I’m going to let slide — [extreme dramatic pause]
Alaina: “Is my dick”?  He’s going to mention his dick.
Ivan: Is my dick, into your pussy.
Alaina: CALLED IT.

And then Ivan and his other dick brother or whatever puts their sunglasses on in this wicked dark arcade, and then there’s a fucking cocaine orgy.

The blonde chick turns out to be a hooker — of course.  And when she and the Ivan brother start making out, it is even more awkward than a Decadent sex scene.  And that’s saying something.

The hobo comes out of hiding and tells the Ivan brother to take his filthy paws off her, you damned dirty ape! Ivan-brother says no, Hobo hits him in the head with his Hobo-Cane and says something about writing welfare checks on the Ivan-brother’s skin.  Ivan-Brother makes a crack about writing a check to Mother Theresa, at which point the Hobo says:

Sorry — the vodka’s kicking in. *like a See and Say* [Brrrp] The Hobo Says:
“Mother Theresa was a goddamned saint!”

And Alaina laughs her ass off.

OH MY GOD “WELCOME TO FUCKTOWN”!!??!?  So the Hobo goes to the police station and tries to talk reason to a cop, and then the cop asks if the Hobo’d been welcomed to their quaint little town, and when the answer was no, the cop stands up, points his gun in the Hobo’s face and screams “Welcome to Fucktown!!” All I can hear is Gob leaning over Stan Sitwell in Arrested Development while trying to sell the idea of a housing development called Fuck City.

“You’re living in Fuck City…”  You are indeed, Hobo.

THE PRINCES OF FUCKTOWN?!  Well, with the 1980s hair, members only jackets, and the sunglasses at night, they do resemble Prince a tiny bit.  And then the Drake sons of bitches STAB THE HOBO AND TOSS HIM IN A DUMPSTER.

And then he goes home with Abby the Hooker and she takes care of him and he heals enough to be able to be back on the street the next day, where he fights in enough bumfights (WHICH INCLUDES EATING GLASS, WHAT THE FUCK) to make enough money to buy the titular shotgun.  Wait, is he buying the lawn mower instead?  I would assume not, because otherwise the name of the movie would be Hobo With a Lawn Mower, right?

And then, of course, the one pawn shop the Hobo decides to frequent gets robbed.

Do it …. DOOO IT, HOBO!  KILL THE GUYS WITH THE LAWN MOWER!  I see you looking at it — oh, no, there’s the shotgun.  That works too.

So he buys the shotgun, and then goes on a Rampage.  But the worst part is that they missed the opportunity for the Hobo to go running through Fucktown yelling RAAAAAAAAAAAMPPAAAAAAAAAAGE!!!!!  Also, when the Hobo uses his shotgun, all I can see in my head, for some reason, is the dog from Duck Hunt. 

Actual Dialogue: “I’m Slick!  No one’s supposed to fuck with me either!”
Alaina: Uhhhhh…. ?

DID THAT DUDE JUST KILL A GUY BY FUCKING TOSSING A HOCKEY SKATE INTO THAT DUDE’S CHEST?!  WHAT THE FUCK?!  (You know you’re watching a Canadian crime film when a hockey skate is a viable weapon.)

Um, what happened to the cop the Hobo shot?  Because it looks like when Judge Doom got rolled over by the steamroller in Who Framed Roger Rabbit – deflated, like the bullet popped him like a balloon?

Oh my god, I’m exhausted, and not even a little bit drunk (because NO, I KNOW I said Challenge Accepted, but I think staying up long enough to actually watch this movie is Challenge Enough).

So now, the Hobo and Abby the Hooker are going to skip town and start a lawn mowing company!?  Jesus CHRIST.  HOW IS THERE STILL HALF AN HOUR OF THIS LEFT

I mean, look, I watch a lot of shit, okay?  I rented One For the Money willingly.  But friends of mine: could you please hold off on the Forcing Alaina to Watch Bad Movies for a while?  I’ve still got The Empire Strikes Back to tackle.

… and then I fell asleep.  I saw Abby and the Hobo take Abby to the hospital, and I saw the Hobo scaring the infants when he was talking about the next generation, and then I think this was the climactic fight and Abby’s almost dead and so is the Drake, and then the Hobo kills the Drake and then the evil townspeople kill the Hobo, and in the background, Abby the Hooker screams “nooooooo!!!” and it sounds like a farm animal squealing in pain, and then this song that sounds like … like if Huey Lewis and the News was a girl band, and CREDITS.

Sarah.  You know I love you dearly and would do anything for you.  But please, I beg you: give me a break before finding the next Netflix Roulette you want me to watch.  I swear, I have the need to watch something extremely intelligent or twisty or thought-provoking.  Like, The Prestige or, Chinatown, or maybe Kiss Kiss Bang Bang again.

And in spite of this, I feel that I’m missing a seminal hobo joke.  But I’m too tired to find it right now.  (I need a lawn mower.)

Grade for Hobo With a Shotgun: WHAT the FUCK was THAT!?


Alaina’s Friend Sarah Recommends: “Death of a Ghost Hunter”

What’s this?  Two entries within 24 hours?  What’s with that, you ask?  Well, my roommate is spending the weekend out of town, and, let’s be honest for a second: I don’t really have any other friends in the area I can hang out with (*sniff*), so I may as well kill some things on the TiVo.

Although this title is NOT on the TiVo.  For my readers who have not yet sampled Death of a Ghost Hunter, some background:

Every year, me and a bunch of my college friends descend upon Rhode Island like a bunch of very cool locusts — we are only there for one night, but there is much carousing and shenanigans.  This year, there was Disco Dodgeball!  Well, I was running late (thanks, Annapolis training), and by the time I arrived at the President’s Day Eve party, everyone else in attendance had already watched this gem, discovered by Jennifer on Netflix Instant!Watch: Death of a Ghost Hunter.

Thus, the entire rest of the day — and two months after the fact — my dearest friends who do not live close to me have had in-jokes about excessive timestamping, and … well, that’s really the only joke that stuck. 

[Although, even though I have not yet pushed play on this thing, I have to ask: it won Best Screenplay in something?  I have a feeling I’ll be making fun of that as the night goes on.]

Netflix describes the plot thusly:

A famed ghost hunter is hired to investigate paranormal activity at a house where, twenty years earlier, Joseph Masterson and his family were murdered.

Oh, another thing I should mention before I get too far in.  Yeah, there are a lot of movies I’ve never seen.  Shut up, all of you.  But there’s one genre of which I typically steer clear, and that is horror.  I can’t remember if I’ve listed it (and I’m not opening up another tab to actually check the list, so again, shut up), but I’ve only seen the first twenty minutes of The Exorcist, I’ve never seen Night of the Living Dead or even Night of the Dead Living (wait — that was an episode of Homicide.  That I have also never seen).  Nightmare on Elm Street, Halloween, the other one that I can never remember … I don’t like horror movies.  I really don’t.  I know the point of a horror movie is to feel uncomfortable and scared out of your wits, but … no thanks!  I really kind of hate them.

So why am I watching Death of a Ghost Hunter, which is squarely in the horror genre, alone in my apartment after midnight with all the lights on?  Because I have been reassured by my stalwart team of friends — AND by an ACTUAL GHOST HUNTER that I met at work this week, HA BE JEALOUS — that it’s not that scary or gory or gross.  And while I don’t like horror, I have gone to see “stupid” horror movies.  Notably, my favorites were Final Destination 2 and The Grudge.  The former, I went with my aforementioned college friends, and I distinctly remember Emily and I standing up, giving the slow clap to the screen after a guy got cut into three equal pieces by a projectile section of barbed wire fence (and in the same moment, Sarah steadfastly refusing to join in or even acknowledge our existence, because she felt we were being assholes).  The latter, I saw with some hometown friends, and I was the asshole that kept telling Buffy to just fight the fucking demon, why is she running when she should be kickboxing the shit out of it?  (Again, Amelia steadfastly refused to acknowledge my existence.)

So I’m hoping that I can add Death of a Ghost Hunter to my Assholey Horror Movie genre.  Game on?  OH WAIT I’M GONNA NEED ALCOHOL FOR THIS.

Oh, right.  I promised Jen I’d timestamp everything.  Heh heh heh.

12:14 a.m.
Alaina pushes play.  And takes a swig from her bottle of premixed margaritas.

Wait a minute — this is a production of Ominous Productions?  Seriously?!  That’s what they decided to name their company?  Oh, god, who’s the asshole that decided that?  *drinks*

In 1982, Minister Joseph Masterson and his family were murdered inside their home.

And then they go to somewhere in Arizona in 1982 and show some woman going out of a house with a stake in her hand WAIT ARE THERE VAMPIRES and then she’s sawing the arm off a guy? and bringing a gun into the house and then drowning a baby and can I just say, Fakest Baby Ever, and then she shoots herself, and guys, have you never heard of white balance?  Why is everything green?

‘Ghost Hunting’ is the process in which paranormal investigators use modern technology to obtain tangible evidence regarding the existence of life after death.

12:25 a.m.
Alaina makes a snotty remark: “Thanks for the definition, Dirk Dictionary.” And takes a swig of her alcohol.

In 2002, renowned ghost hunter, Carter Simms, was offered $5,000 to perform a paranormal investigation of the Masterson House.

Okay, FIRST OF ALL.  You do not need a comma after the word ‘hunter,’ Ominous Productions.  You can just say “renowned ghost hunter Carter Simms.”  Secondofly, why is Carter Simms underlined?  Why?  What’s the point?  And thrice, five grand — that’s it?  That seems kinda lame.  But what do I know — I have a real job.

Her investgation stands as the single most tragic paranormal inquiry in American history. 

Really?  In ALL of American history?  Are you sure?  Surely, someone investigated the Winchester mystery house and ended up dead.  And hey, speaking of the Winchesters, what about Supernatural?  Or when people investigated the Titanic?

It ended with her death.

NO SHIT, SHERLOCK.  Hence, the title of the damn movie.

This film is based on the journal entries she made during her investigation.

And then it proceeds into — oh, Jesus Christ. 

12:31 a.m.
Alaina attempted to take a screenshot of the TV with her phone, but sinceshe didn’t want to get off the couch and her phone is a piece of shit and doesn’t have a zoom function, she said ‘fuck it’ and — say it with me now — took a swig of her drink.

Anyway, this Carter person — a girl named Carter?  Okay, sure.  I mean, I once had a character named Toby where ‘Toby’ was a nickname for ‘Elizabeth’ — proceeds to READ THE SCREENSHOT.  Like we’re illiterate.

She narrates something about deciding between taking the coastal route from Oregon to Arizona or taking Interstate 5 or something and holy shit, is this really happening?  I am nowhere near drunk enough for this.  Wasn’t someone supposed to give me the drinking game rules?

She arrives in Arizona and meets the owner of the house.  This whole ‘journal entry’ is intercut with shots of her coming out of the shower, her sitting on her bed in a tiny bathrobe — like, dudes, this is supposed to be a horror movie, not Skinimax — and Seth Masterson making some reference to a movie that she hates that apparently I have never seen, because what movie is “step into the light” from, and why is he speaking in that creepy voice?  And what man whose family was MURDERED twenty years ago would be joking about EVIL POSSESSION MOVIES?

Y’know, in 2002, I was journaling on a laptop.  Why is Carter using a legal pad?  And wait, is she a skeptic?  Is her job to debunk or to prove?  Does she even know? 

This premise is turning into a prime example of how NOT to write.  “Here’s a haunted house.  Let’s call in a paranormal investigator and have her prove that there wasn’t a haunting, and we’ll pay her $5,000.  Oh, but here’s A TWIST: she has to work with a film crew she’s never met before.  How could this POSSIBLY go wrong?”  Jesus.  *chugs*

Also, Dear Director: why are you using such extreme close-ups?  Have you never heard of a mid-shot?  A two-shot?  Why are you up in their nostrils so much?

2:00 p.m.
The investigator stands on the porch and pushes her sunglasses warily onto the top of her head before going into the house.

Wait — she instantly draws a connection between the two stuffed birds in the Random Birdcage and the House, as if they were “stopped in time”?  That ain’t Miss Havisham’s wedding cake, Carter — it’s two stuffed parakeets with no additional meaning.

[If it ends up having additional meaning — I don’t really care, actually.]

3:30 p.m.
Colin Green nearly got kicked in the balls.

Yvette’s kind of a bitch, isn’t she?  Is she the first one that gets killed?  I really hope so.  Because in addition to being a bitch, she’s also a horrible actress.

Mary Young, the spiritual advisor? has a very oily face.  She looks like a bitchier, more pious verson of Tara Reid.

Why does Carter keep talking about the five thousand dollars?  Speaking as someone who has more bills than disposable income — and not knocking the idea of a five thousand dollar payday — in the grand scheme of things?  It’s not a lot of money!  Five HUNDRED thousand dollars, and the plot might be a bit more believable. 

I love the emphatic eating of the celery.  And no, that’s not a euphamism.

Oh.  Carter does call herself a skeptic.  That makes me feel a little better.  A little.  Not much.

This scene is one big info-dump.  Bor-ring.  It’s five minutes of “how to be a ghost hunter.”  Damn, Carter is a bitch, what with her dumping on the videographer.  Are we sure he doesn’t kill her?  And if she’s reading her journals, why is she explaining what she’s doing?  I HATE THIS MOVIE.

I ALSO HATE YVETTE.  Just let the ghost hunter do her job without trying to interrupt and ask questions.  The sooner she gets done, the sooner I get to go to bed and have creepy nightmares.

Why does Mary Young look familiar?  Seriously, she looks like a younger Rebekah on The Vampire Diaries.  But it’s not — and thank god.  I’d hate for there to be a connection between the show of my heart and this piece of crap.

Oh good, everyone feels cold.  Thank goodness everyone feels the same cold and heaviness in their chests.

Oh, is this the part where the religious person gets possessed and starts killing everyone and apparently also gets her period?  What — okay, this is where I go into my “I’m going to bash the shit out of this movie” mode and, much like when I was forced to watch The Evil Dead and my sarcasm forced my friends to turn the movie off because I wasn’t scared enough, tonight’s sarcastic bitch line is: this is going to be the worst PMS ever for you, Religious Girl.

[For those wondering, my Queen Bitch Ass line from The Evil Dead: the girl gets raped by the trees.  She manages to return to the cabin, and then proceeds to turn into … whatever it was, zombie? mass-murdering psycho?  I remember the gang of friends locking her in the basement, and there’s this shot of them all standing up, and no one says anything.  In that silence, from the couch, Alaina proclaims: “Well.  That’s one hell of an STD.”]

What just happened to the chair?  Because I’m going to go with ‘earthquake.’

Question: if the ghosts make sounds that can’t be heard by human ears, why are we spending so much time watching her listen to white noise?

WHOA — Religious Girl turns out to be Racist Girl!  I would have said “saw it coming,” but … duh.  Also, they’re in Arizona. 

Is there a reason why Mary Young’s microphone is turned down whereas Yvette’s microphone is turned up? 


So now, they’ve established Yvette as a druggie slut.  She’s going to get her throat slit.  And that has nothing to do with ghosts and everything to do with being in Arizona.

Seriously, guys — how are you not figuring out already that Mary Young is the baby that didn’t actually drown?  Oh, right, because you didn’t realize that there was a baby that didn’t drown.  Kudos.  CAN I GO TO BED NOW, because I have a feeliing that either the acting’s going to get worse and/or the characters are going to get stupider, or it’s going to stop being stupid and start getting creepier, and I’m not sure I can take either of those options.

Okay, hold on, because I’m totally getting distracted.  So there’s, like, ten minutes of Yvette and Colin acting like whacked out idiots, and then there’s an actual ghost event, where a ghost runs through Carter, and then, she proclaims in complete melodramatic fashion, “She went THROUGH me, and I FELT her.”  And I Tweeted that, followed by “Nice read, Velma,” which is of course a quote from Archer.  And I’ve been scouring the interwebs for a clip of that from “Skytanic,” and of course I can’t find it, but you know what I did find?  Some awesome idiot has taken the virus that wrecks the ISIS computers and made a 57-minute long loop of it.  And I may have used that as background music while I typed up this paragraph (I DON’T REWIND, but I do pause so I can get my thoughts down before moving on to the next thought).  It’s scarily mesmerizing, and I think I just found a new game.

Also?  Totally found the Captain Lammers scene!  [Fast forward to 2:03 for my favorite scene in season one]

Jesus — I have now had the movie paused so much so I could type [read:got distracted by the interwebs] that I could have finished the damn movie by now if I had just paid attention.  But since I refuse to finish watching it in the morning, you’re just gonna have to deal with my insomnia and my distaste of the movie.

Dammit!  Just when I start to get bored with this movie, they go and do the one thing that would make like it just a little bit — they go to town and start slapping the shit out of each other.  What have I been saying for years weeks now?  Face-slapping makes everything better.

Dear Colin: you can’t call it a ‘fist fight’ if people don’t punch each other.  The word you were searching for was ‘bitchfest.’

And seriously, again — who didn’t call that Mary Young wasn’t actually supposed to be there?  And again — not having any preconceived notions about the movie aside from the excessive use of timestamps — we have to know that Mary Young is actually the sole survivor of the Masterson killing.

“I’ma find out about this bitch.”  Jesus, Yvette  Learn to read your line.

HAHAHAHA they taped the chair!  Brings to mind Jen’s wedding when Sarah and Marc were moving the cake but didn’t know where to move it to because there was no tape on the floor.  Ah, theatre.

Oh shit, the doorbell.  And it’s Mary Young.  And she’s going to kill everybody, right?  Seriously, I am falling asleep. 

WAIT — DID HER HEAD EXPLODE?  IS THAT HOW RELIGOUS GIRL DIES?  Because I admit that I’m half asleep as it is, but I get what the helment was for, but the gun was downstairs and not in her hand, right?  Which means that HER HEAD EXPLODED?

Okay — that was cool.

Wait — that was it?  No gore, no … just a quick turn around, a stab to the eye, and then you’re done, dead?  That’s — are you — WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT

So obviously, Mary Young ended up being the killer, and now, let me guess — Carter is waking up and realizing that she is a ghost, and not only that, but she’s stuck in the house that she was investigating?  That’s a fitting end for a ghost hunter. 

And now, I’m going to make a reference to both Lord of the Rings: Return of the King and Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, and please know that I hate myself for making the reference: this movie has the same amount of endings as Return of the King, which is the mark of having a bad narrator. 

Also, they can afford the wacky special effects to show her as a Ghost Face, but they can’t afford corn syrup and red food coloring for more blood?  Because when I watch a movie called Death of a Ghost Hunter, I expect there to be buckets of blood.


Many in the Ghost Hunting Community consider the evidence gathered by Carter Simms’ investigation of the Masterson House to be proof of the existence Life After Death… Since the events in 2002, the Masterson House has been regarded as one of the top Ten most active Hauntings in America.  In 2003, holy men from several denominations were asked to bless the house .. It is believed that their efforts were unsuccessful.

You know what was unsuccessful?  THIS MOVIE.  And granted, I probably would have enjoyed this a lot more if I had been playing the drinking game and discovering the badness along with everyone else but … JESUS.

(Good find, Jen.  Good find.)

BigDamnHerosSir: bahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha just copy that tweet.  You’ll need it again, I promise.
WillBeFunOrElse: But I may need to emphasize different words.  What the FUCK was that?  What the fuck WAS that?  What the fuck was THAT?

Grade for Death of a Ghost Hunter: WHAT the FUCK was THAT?!