Thursday, December 6, 2012

Eddie Visits Old Orchard Beach. Cougars Kick Him Out

Summer 2011
Old Orchard Beach, Maine

Ahhh Old Orchard Beach. Maine's answer to Cape Cod and the Jersey Shore. Except instead of uptight dudes with Boston Red Sox hats or orange Furby lookalikes running amok, you have middle aged parents escaping from their children to relive their golden years. The years when they could actually breathe and live a little.

But they're not alone. A warning about Old Orchard Beach: When the sun sets, be extremely cautious about what you say when interacting with anyone you don't know. I'm not saying that OOB is dangerous because it most certainly is not. I've lived within 30 minutes of this place for almost 6 years and have met a lot of great people in the area. But after the bars close, it can easily become a disgusting cesspool of the worst assholes the world has to offer.

Southern Maine gets a lot of tourism in the Summer. Russian parents send their children over to work the amusement park rides, French-Canadians vacation by car and then bicycle all over the area because they're afraid of airplanes and motorcycles (I assume), Vermonters are--well--sick of Vermont, and the swamp monsters from the northern outskirts of Maine put on disguises and come out of their natural habitats to see what the humans are up to.

[I've never been that far up north ... but I've heard stories]

And the one thing that all of these groups have in common? Everyone's looking to boink.

This means that the moment the bars close at the tender time of 1:00AM, the males go into a last-minute hunting mode. They've been unsuccessful in the clubs and bars all night, so they take their frustration to the streets. Hell, the only reason they wasted time at a club in the first place was to find someone to dry hump all night in hopes of taking them home to subtract the dry part.

Let me familiarize the mapping of late night OOB for you. It's a bunch of places to get drunk that surround a ton of greasy late night food places. Palace Playland is closed, because if it were still open, these goobers would be too busy playing skeeball and puking on the Galaxy Coaster to ever disperse. All of these establishments lead to the final yet most important ingredient to this catastrophic concoction: The Pier.

The Pier is the biggest club in the area, but when I say biggest club in the area, I mean it's Maine trying to be relevant as a club scene. Sadly, it ends up in a different category. The category of "Overpriced tourist traps that are only popular because they overlook a beach". A funny fact about places in Maine--If there's a cover charge, odds are the joint either A) Isn't worth the money and time it takes to actually step foot inside, or B) There's a band playing that's decent but will never hit the big time. The Pier falls under category A.

When the clock strikes 1AM, these bars let loose their demons into the night. Each bar has a different cast of intoxicated characters--and when they mix--it is highly unpredictable.

On this particular night, if there was an emergency, we had one of the best groups you could possibly assemble. Let's go through this story's cast of characters.

Nice dude but can hold his own. Sometimes says things that make you question your own sanity. He's now my roommate. This being said, I can confirm that jumping from our 3rd story window has crossed my mind.

Toast's older brother. Imagine Toast but a lot more logical yet volatile. When contents aren't shook, he can be a blast to be around.

Don't let his name fool you, he's a lot more solid than bread. Speaks his mind, but can understand when there's a dangerous situation looming and can play Daddy. Doesn't hurt that he does mixed martial arts.

Also trained in MMA. One of the nicest kids you'll meet. Although his smile isn't intimidating, he finds enjoyment in taking people larger than him to the ground--and can do it with ease. Luckily he has his girlfriend with him to keep him in check.

A good friend of ours who was visiting from Worcester, MA. This was a rare appearance for him, but he still found a way to make it into this particular story.

Then there was Chevrolet & I. Two wise asses who involuntarily stumble into trouble. We speak our minds and sometimes people don't like to hear it. Drunken Chevrolet a lot more so than me, but you'll learn that later.

This night seemed like it was going to be a drama-less night. Meet up at Toast and BigToast's house to pregame, take cabs over to Old Orchard Beach, walk to Hooligan's Landing for cheap beer, stay away from cougar hunting at the Brunswick, and then see where the night takes us. Everything was looking peachy.

We arrived at Hooligan's Landing relatively late, but had no problem making the best of it. Despite it being more packed than fudge, there was live music and good folk to keep us entertained. That was until the group realized that we were the youngest faces out of the whole bunch and that there were more attractive females to conquer elsewhere. So we ended up splitting into two groups. Most of the guys wanted to head over to The Pier for girl-scouting so BeerSkin, his girlfriend, and I went roaming the streets to locate a new spot.

We ended up at a small, shifty dive bar that had the population of 2 town folk in it and a total of 7 teeth between the both of them. So we did what we do best: Turn a despicable environment into a pleasant one. We ordered beers and began brainstorming ideas that would make this shit-covered popsicle actually edible. Pool table, television, arcade, drink deals, low-priced appetizers and wings. Every imbecile with an open mouth thinks they can run a bar when they're drunk. We were those imbeciles. Then the owner walked over. He didn't help his bar's case at all. He was the poster child for why this place deserved a proper burial. His lack of motivation for his own bar was the clearest example that he knew his bar was a crapsicle and that we should turn away--so we finished our beers and obliged.

It was around 12:30AM at this point, so we reluctantly decided to meet up with the rest of the group at The Pier. I couldn't believe how long the line to get in was. This wasn't my first rodeo here, so I knew what I was actually waiting for. I was waiting in a line of stragglers much like myself to pay a cover for a less than 15 minute indulgence in a packed club that has more sweaty dudes than girls and--odds are--I'm going to have to squeeze through a bunch of them to locate the overpriced light beer.

Total piss.

My excitement was at an all-time low. Then the bouncer announced that the cover has been raised due to capacity issues. Really? I now have to pay even more money for less than what I would have gotten by just arriving earlier?

That would have been the straw that broke the camel's back, but when the clock is inching towards last call and you have no time to make it to another bar, you learn how to suck it up.

I spent my time in line talking with a tipsy yet unintentionally funny French Canadian. I can't remember exactly what he mustered to say but I do recall him consistently asking about "de gurls" at The Pier. I stuck a "sacré bleu" in my response just because I'm extremely uncultured. I don't believe we spoke again after that.

The line shortened and we finally made it. We had time for one beer so that became the immediate priority. The bouncer pried the money from our hands and we headed in.

Then we reached the second line. The one at the bar. We once again had to stand behind an outlandishly ridiculous number of collared shirts; some of which were sadly popped. Luckily, some of our fallen soldiers were stuck in this commotion as well. We jumped ahead with them, grabbed a $5 Bud Light and $10+ shot, and went to the balcony overlooking the beach.

... In this moment, The Pier wasn't so bad. Staring off into the waves as they crash into the darkened sands. The moon shimmering off the ripples of the ocean. A cold, tasteless light beer in one hand and a shot glass filled with something that will undoubtedly burn because BigToast suggested it. A splendid moment.

Alright, that last paragraph came off way too poetic. But I had a long night, dammit! I had every right in the world to be a softy--but we were far from done. In fact, our debacles hadn't even begun.

The bars declared closing time so we finished off whatever we had that was ingestible and stumbled out into the night along with the horny herds of Old Orchard Beach tourists.

But we were seasoned veterans to this region. We knew it was greasy food time. And I had a craving for french fries like you wouldn't believe.

I looked into my wallet. No dough.

The greediness of The Pier had squeezed me dry for every last dime I had. The establishment with the fries I desired only took cash. Woe was me.

I had to divert my attention before I lost my mind over those salty delights. So greasy food time transformed into a stereotypical white boy circle.

When BeerSkin, Toast, and I drink, sometimes we convince ourselves that we're the second coming of Run-DMC. Toast started beat-boxing. I added a few catlike noises. Then BeerSkin laid down the mayonnaise.

Here's an example from another night so you can get a good idea of what this delightful travesty sounded like:
Then a stranger-danger Caucasian male joined in. Somehow we must have forgotten that we were still in the whitest state in America and were going to attract all sorts of wannabe Eminems.

Don't believe that Maine is the whitest state? This is via ABC News:

"Maine tops the nation with 96.9 percent of its population described as white, while 96.7 percent of Vermont and 96 percent of New Hampshire are white, according to the census."

That's a losing statistic in my book. I can't believe Maine is whiter than Vermont. I also can't believe I just typed 'Whitest State in America' into a Google search bar. Anyways ...

This guy was terrible, but he was having so much fun that we couldn't stop him. It sounded more like monotone grumbling than anything mildly comprehensible. I'm not saying we're anywhere close to good, but this guy made us sound like the Beastie Boys. [RIP MCA]

BeerSkin, Toast, and I then shared a moment of realization. There was a very good possibility that we looked as ridiculous as this guy; especially now through association.

We quickly decided that our fun must come to an end and broke up the band. We started to walk away from this cluster of horny goats so that we could more easily wave down a taxi.

We were about 100 yards away from the center of Old Orchard Beach when suddenly I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around and spotted a wild cougar pouncing towards me. She was trying to catch up.

The best part--she was waving around a giant bucket of french fries! My optimistic yet sloshed mind went with "Hey! Some random woman wants my body! And she's going to feed me! What a doll!" It's like the Gods answered my prayers and sent this experienced angel to deliver to me what my drunken body truly desired. She's not of ripe age, but a man's got to do what a man's got to do in order to get his hands on that golden crispness. And I'm not talking about the overly tanned cougar's leathery skin.

She grew closer. Alright, she's not nearly as decent looking as she was when we had a football field between us. This was no Cougar. This was a certified Mountain Lion tipping the age-scale close to Saber Tooth Tiger. And I realized something--she didn't look happy.

Then the screaming began.

WildMountainLion: "Who the fuck do you think you are?! You have some kind of nerve saying that to us!"
Eddie: "Um, saying what? Is there a problem?"
WildMountainLion: "You know exactly what I'm talking about you little shit! I should beat your ass right here!"
Eddie: "Alright, calm down lady. I don't even know who you are. How could I have ever said something to you?"

Here's a tip when trying to calm someone down. NEVER actually tell the person to 'calm down'.

WildMountainLion: "You walked by us back there and said 'It smells like whores around here'!"

I seriously don't recall ever saying this statement. I mean, it's certainly something I would say to get a laugh out of my equally immature friends. I'm not denying that fact, but I would have never walked up to a group of strange mountain lions and said they smelled like whores--even though that's exactly what Old Orchard Beach smells like.

As I continued to fail at calming WildMountainLion down, the rest of the group took notice. BigToast was the first one over.

BigToast: "Listen , we don't want any trouble. This must have been a misunderstanding."

Now that's being the voice of reason. Sadly, BigToast wasn't the only one she heard. In fact, I guarantee she wasn't even listening to him, because behind BigToast was Chevrolet.

Chevrolet: "Who the hell are you, old lady? Get the fuck out of here!"

Oh dear, this is taking a turn for the worst. Chevrolet gave her exactly what she wanted--Something to actually bitch about. She took all of her anger that was being wasted on me and threw it in the direction of Chevrolet. Someone in our group told everyone to keep walking so that we could avoid this situation. WildMountainLion and her group continued keep pace with us. There's actually a video of this whole ordeal online:
Alright, you got me. That was The Lost World: Jurassic Park, but it's basically the same thing. I'm the people running and Chevrolet is Jeff Goldblum in a red convertible leading the beast away from me. Except instead of using his incredibly fast car and a baby dino to attract the mother, he's using generic insults. I assume you've figured out who the Tyrannosaurus Rex is portraying.

We needed a savior. Who in our group could possibly calm this lunatic down so that we didn't end up in a heated brawl with a gang of old cats who were each missing 7 of their 9 lives. Enter: Toast. With the most sincere of voices ...

Toast: "Don't be mad at my friend for calling you a whore just because you are one."

... Didn't help--At all. WildMountainLion devolved into RabidMountainLion. Her nonsensical yelling toward Chevrolet grew ferociously as her group stood behind her. But Chevrolet still had one card in his pocket. The card that most males refuse to use due to the drastic consequences that follow.

Chevrolet: "You know, I don't usually use this word but fuck it. YOU'RE A CUNT!"

This is the part where everyone prepares for the worst. We were in for the long haul with this one, boys.

No matter what a woman's level of insanity is at, you always refrain from using that word. Because that simple yet powerful four letter word can be the difference between a misunderstanding and a night in the pokey.

RabidMountainLion lost it and went for a more physical offense. The only weapon she had at her disposal was that delicious bucket of fries in her hand. She took that bucket, turned it sideways, and hit Chevrolet as hard as she could with it. Every greasy, ketchup soaked fry flew out onto Chevrolet's face and clothes. I no longer cared about the drama. In my mind, this situation was now a mourning of those golden beauties.

Chevrolet: "These fries smell like your vag! They're greasy like it too!"
RabidMountainLion "FUCK YOU! I'm going to get my husband to kick your ass!"

Pozzo was doing his best to calm everyone down, but would show quick glimpses of bipolar disorder every time he opened his mouth.

Pozzo: "Everyone, we have to calm down--BUT FUCK YOU, YOU'RE CRAZY!--We can't let this situation get out of hand--AND FUCK YOUR HUSBAND! WHERE IS HE? I'LL FIGHT HIM!"

A male who we assumed was the husband looked like he was about to step out of RabidMountainLion's shadows. BigToast walked over to him and gave a very stern look to the gentleman.

BigToast: "Listen buddy, look at that man over there."

BigToast pointed at WonderBread who was now dragging Chevrolet away in a full nelson.

BigToast: "You don't want to fuck with him. And I guarantee that you certainly don't want to fuck with me."

That poor husband came to his senses real quick. He made the smartest decision of his life by stepping away from a situation that could have gotten a lot worse than it already was. Chevrolet was still screaming while WonderBread had him locked.

Chevrolet: "Dammit, I just bought this shirt today at the GoodWill! You owe me a new shirt!"

At that point, we looked like a group of guys being stalked by a few slabs of poorly cut leather. Innocent bystanders took notice. A cop pulled up and rolled down his window.

Cop: "What seems to be the problem?"

This is the first and only time in my life that I've actually been relieved to see a cop. To the untrained eye, we would most likely be considered at fault because we're 'young & stupid kids', but Chevrolet had the greasy red evidence all over his shirt which proves we were assaulted.

BigToast: "No, we're fine."
Cop: "Okay, have a good night."


I've never seen an officer so not interested in helping. He literally drove up to our traveling mini riot, asked one question, and drove away. We were on our own again.

Luckily, we reached her motel and she realized she was too pooped to continue berating us. RabidMountainLion stood in front of her motel and continued yelling wasted profanities at us while we just continued on with our lives.

This is the best advice I can give you if you're ever attacked by a wild mountain lion. Tire her out. Because--odds are--her stamina won't be remotely close to yours. Plus, sooner or later she's going to come to the conclusion that she'd rather be watching daytime soap operas and Judge Judy than be dealing with your young shenanigans.

We got far enough where we didn't have to listen to her terrible screechy voice. We found a cab and most of our group jumped in while BigToast, Pozzo, and I walked down another street in search of a ride as well.

Then--I saw it. Another bucket of french fries that was abandoned on the side of the road like an old dog. This was no mirage. It was calling me.

Fries: "Edddddieeee ..... Edddddiiiieeee ..... Eaaaaaattt meeeeee ....."

My hunger took over. I stumbled over to the abandoned bucket like I was a homeless person who hadn't eaten in days. I was going to eat those nasty leftovers. Thankfully, I had friends with me.

BigToast: "What the hell are you doing?"
Eddie: "Who just leaves a bucket of fries on the side of the road? I'm going to eat these."
BigToast: "No, you're not. That's disgusting. You don't know where those have been."
Eddie: "They were in someone's possession and now they're here. It's not like someone placed their bucket down and peed all over the fries so no one could have them. That's not logical. It's hobo food. Some genuine person just couldn't finish them and left them for someone who was hungrier--like me."
BigToast: "I can't let you touch those."
Eddie: "C'mon, just one fry."
BigToast: "You leave me no choice."

We both made a dash for the bucket. BigToast beat me to it and kicked it so it landed upside down. Once again, fries were wasted upon the pavement of Old Orchard Beach. Reality set in--I was a thirsty traveler stuck in the desert. I finally found my water only to have it taken away from me. On that eventful night, fries were not happening. I bitched a little bit, but deep down I knew that it was for the best.

We finally waved down a taxi and jumped in. We told the cabdriver of our adventures. Of course, he didn't give 2 shits. We had to be optimists though. We endured a mountain lion attack and lived to tell the tale.

We left Old Orchard Beach--as survivors.

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Eddie Gets Lost in Cancun. Later Found by Girls Gone Wild

March 2010 
Cancun, Mexico

I was a Junior at the University of New England in Biddeford, Maine, and I still had never experienced a true Spring Break. And when I say the words "Spring Break", I don't mean staying at your parents house in East BumFuck USA for a week as you spend a random assortment of unmotivated nights in your old high school buddy's basement drinking whatever cheap malt liquor you can afford. I'm talking about a REAL Spring Break. One where you go to a mystical land that is littered with a limitless supply of eager college girls and possibilities to ruin your future professional career. Where alcohol flows endlessly like the Waterfall of the Gods in Iceland. An exotic getaway where you wake up everyday to a liquid breakfast only because you made way too many terrible decisions the night before and have to be physically ready to do it all over again.

In 2010, I would finally experience my first Spring Break.

A family member with a connection to a travel agent informed me that she, her boyfriend, and a few of her close friends were heading to a resort in Cancun, and the more people who she could rope in, the cheaper the price was going to be. She said we can get it as low as $800 a person if we could round up the right group.

From afar, $800 seems like a hefty price, but let's put this into perspective. That $800 includes a week of meals, alcohol, housing, most resort amenities (gym, pools, beach, etc.), AND the plane tickets.

I'd have to be certified-cat-lady-crazy to say no.

So I took a peek at my checking account ... $124.78.

I was shit out of luck on financing this trip by myself. Luckily I have another family member who was a lot more financially stable and wanted to go. I found my in. He helped me finance the trip and the rest was history.

Our plane landed in Cancun while our dignity was left sidelined in the States. This was going to be a week where the only real rule we were going to live by was "Don't drink the tap water". And even that was a rule I expected to break. Dysentery is just something that our weak alcohol-battered bodies would have to endure so that we can truly experience what Cancun has to offer.

After stepping off the plane, we immediately came face-to-face with Mexico Fact #1: A lot of the country is poor and will do anything for a small tip. This airport was full of locals who were ready to suck the droopy dick of American consumerism just for some coin that will go towards putting food on their los ninos' plates. This fact became apparent when 2 locals quickly snatched our bags and carried them 10 feet to the designated taxi area. Both men stood with their right hand out as if they deserved recognition for this noble act of bravery. Lucky for them, they hit us at just the right time. We were silly tourists with our heads still in the clouds. Long story short: little Jose & Maria ate well that night.

Our taxi arrived at the resort and we received our official reentry wristbands, but we would then learn how unready we really were.

We flew out of Boston, Massachusetts where I believe there was still remnants of snow on the ground. As a result, when we walked across the resort's pool area, we were the only sweaty assholes still in jeans and with our jackets dangling around our arms.

Then we realized something ... we could begin drinking immediately.

We flamboyantly ran to our rooms. Of course we had that all too common moment where you walk into your new room and have to touch everything while commenting about how great or shitty it is. One person sits on the edge of the bed and bounces up and down as they comment on softness and noise control. The other complains about the high price of making a call to the United States through the resort phone. You know, the usual.

After completing this common act of human tomfoolery and changing out of our New England uniforms, we were ready for our first shot. It isn't hard to predict which kind of alcohol we began with. None other than the devil's water. The type of alcohol that has caused more irrational crime than any other: Tequila!

One of the members of our group bought a bottle of Patron at the Cancun airport for a ridiculously low price. We would find out later that this price was actually expensive for Mexico. That was airport prices. I swear you can trade half-chewed fingernails for Mexican tequila. It is that cheap.

The Patron burnt my esophagus. We were now officially in Cancun and it was time to make our triumphant return to the pool area.

Let me explain an all inclusive resort to you. EVERYTHING is plentiful. Unlimited food, drinks, and characters surround you at all times. For individuals that haven't developed the ability to pace themselves, this is a recipe for destruction. I am usually good at knowing my own limits, but with these circumstances, I was in way over my head.

I sat at a bar in the middle of a pool. Half of my body was submerged in dirty pool water that contained a higher alcohol by volume percentage than Bud Light while the other half was waving for the bartender's attention. I was in heaven. And you know what goes good with heaven? Mai Tai's.

One of our group's females laid out the groundwork for our first night. We were going to head to the largest club in Latin America and we were going to have the time of our lives. Girls Gone Wild was scheduled to be filming there and it had all the ingredients to be very memorable. Boy, was she right but in the worst of ways.

Everyone left the pool area to get presentable. The guys were good to go in less than 30 minutes, while the girls continued to drag ass. So we decided to eat the time away at the dinner buffet.

We grabbed our food and sat at the first open table we could find. Then a cute Mexican waitress walked up to our table.

BonitaWaitress: ¿Qué quieres beber?
GroupMember: Wait, we can order whatever drink we want right now?
BonitaWaitress: Sí.

It was still taking us some time to realize how unrestricted we were. It's like withholding a bag of Halloween candy from a 8 year old for a month before finally giving him complete control over the contents. That 8 year old is going to ravish that bag the moment he has a chance.

This is right around the time that LMFAO's terrible party song "Shots" was playing all over the radio so we decided to go down the line.

Jager bombs!
Lemon drops!
Buttery nipples!
Jell-o shots!
Three Wise Men!
Fuck all that shit,
Give me some tequila!

Mexico Fact #2: No matter what alcoholic beverage you order, the bartender will somehow find a way to include tequila in it. We even ordered a shot of whiskey and ended up with tequila. And if you're drinking a cerveza (beer), everyone is still going to yell "Tequila!" in your face. It's just something you have to get use to.

We got through a round of flaming 151 shots, which surprisingly didn't burn any nasal hairs off of anyone, when the girls finally showed up.

The gentlemen are already deep in the bucket. We are teeter-tottering on insanity and it wasn't even 8pm yet.

Most girls would be annoyed, but these girls knew the drill and decided that catching up was a much better option than complaining.

So we went through the song again. We may have even thrown in a few rainbow shots due to the inclusion of females.

At this point the entire group is a sight to behold and turning into the entertainment for the entire resort restaurant. Across from us was a giant group of Asians sitting at a large table that resembled the Great Wall of China. They were loving us and doing that stereotypical shy Asian schoolgirl laugh where they cover their mouths and giggle after everything we say or do. We had found our first friends.

We stood up and went over to talk to them. You know that moment in the night where you change positioning and suddenly you're not the same person you once was? Every drink you've had throughout your escapade taps you on the back and reminds you that you're not Superman. This was that moment. We were officially not fit for public.

While walking the short 10 foot distance between the two tables, one of the male members from our group slips and completely eats shit on what I presume is a tequila-soaked floor. It was one of those dramatic falls fit for a Looney Tunes cartoon. Now, not only had we found our first friends, we had also found our first action to giggle hysterically at for the rest of the night.

Then one of the girls in our group reminded us of something... we were going to a club tonight--And the bus was leaving real soon. This meant we actually had to assemble ourselves so we could look and act at least half-human.

We got as far away from alcohol as we could with the intention to save our already savaged minds. We waited outside for the bus as one gentlemen took out a Cuban cigar and proceeded to share it with the group like it was a fat blunt being passed around a Cypress Hill concert.

Didn't help. If anything, it made things worse.

Then the bus arrived. If you've ever wondered why other countries hate us, take a ride on a bus filled with American Spring Break tourists in a land where they believe they have no consequence. Surprisingly, we were the quiet ones taking a back seat to these other drunken assholes.

This is that moment of clarity where you look at the other obnoxious Americans and wonder if that's what you've looked like all night. I took this moment in by quieting down and putting my life into perspective. Another member of our group, the infamous "WildCard", thought anger was a better solution. He went from happy drunk to "Everyone is pissing me off" drunk the moment he placed a foot in that bus. And I don't blame him. These people sucked, and even in my drunken state I could sense this.

Our group spent the whole bus ride calming down WildCard so that he wouldn't toss one of these jabronis through an emergency exit window.

The bus arrived at the club but the damage was done. The group's mood was tainted. But Cancun has a special way of fixing that. Everything was forgotten the moment we stepped foot into this club. This club is exactly what MTV and Girls Gone Wild commercials say Spring Break is suppose to be: Heavy-duty lazers, a thick coating of fog, beautiful & carefree women, crappy house music, belligerent dancing, and a destiny of craziness.

Suddenly we're all uplifted. The family member who planned this whole trip picked a table and proclaimed it home base just in case anyone got lost in the shuffle.

In order to put emphasis on our taking of land, WildCard decided that this was a great moment to revert back to his animal instincts and piss all over the spot in a club FILLED with people. How he accomplished this undetected impresses me to this day. I was positive that we were going to get kicked out of the club within the first 5 minutes.

Luckily, we trucked on. The girls were being like all girls and wanted to dance the excess sugary drinks off so we walked down to the first floor. Here is the moment where my night changed dramatically.

I've never seen a dance floor so packed. I had no idea how anyone could do anything except vibrate their head furiously to the beat of the song. It was that ridiculous.

I was in the front of our group leading them towards this diabolical dance floor so I decided to do my best Moses impersonation by parting this Red Sea of drunken insecurity.

This was right around the time when Jersey Shore was turning into a terrifying phenomenon. It was MTV's biggest hit since the days when they actually recognized and played music. Somehow this terrible show influenced my next action. I raised up my drunken, little hand like it was our nation's flag and imitated those Guido dweebs by fist pumping and rushing the floor just so my group could follow me into battle.

I guess I should have told someone else my plan before putting it into action. Because when I successfully got through this collection of future mistakes, I turned around to find myself alone. No one had actually followed my courageous fist pumping flag and I was officially stranded.

This had to be karma for fist pumping in the first place. No man should ever fist pump, even if you're using it as a survival mechanism like I did. Me getting lost was the world coming together and correcting my mistake.

I tried to follow my footsteps back to Go, but it was already a lost cause. Being in that state of mind, it was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. I bumped rigorously around the never ending ocean of douchery, but to no avail.

Wait! We had a home base! I was surely saved!

I looked around for our pee soaked home base but nothing looked recognizable. I was so out of it that I was seriously convinced that someone had played a sick joke and completely rearranged the whole club while I was downstairs. There was no empty table so I assumed somewhere in this club was a group of overly-dolled up girls sitting in WildCard's piss while complaining about how the club smells like digested Dos Equis. Silly girls.

I was out of reliable options. So my next motion was to just wait outside until I ran into someone remotely recognizable.

Another dead end. Later on I would find out that WildCard was also missing in action, which is why everyone assumed we were somewhere looking after each other. The buddy system is an excellent concept, but this meant I was shit out of luck.

So there I was, sitting on a curb in a foreign land with my head in my hands. Lost, confused, and drunk. I lifted my head up from my palms and studied my surroundings--searching for an escape.

I saw hot chicks and a cameraman. Hmmm... not exactly what I was expecting but also not a bad sight.

As I was at my lowest point, Girls Gone Wild would coincidentally decide that this was a great time to film hot girls strutting into the club. I was in the background questioning every decision I had made that day, and by sheer luck, I became a background character for the crummiest booby extravaganza in the world.

I'm not motivated enough to mark "Buy a Girls Gone Wild DVD" off of my bucket list anytime soon, so I'm not even sure if this one sad moment in my life made it into their video. Hell, I haven't even seen one of their annoying infomercials in years to know if they're still doing what they do worst. If anyone out there is a GGW fanatic and has the deluxe Spring Break box set, which I pray does not exist, please let me know if this clip is somehow in there.

Anyways, back to the story.

Curb. Drunk. Lost. Foreign. Those are the primary elements in needing a taxi. Remember that part earlier where I said I was poor? Yeah, that was still in effect. I looked in my wallet and found a crisp $5 bill. The bus ride to the club from the resort was obnoxiously long, so I thought there was no way $5 could get me back there.

But in this moment, a nation's poverty level might save my life. I waved down the first taxi I could find with the beautiful American bill.

Eddie: Hola! Hola! Me lost. Have to go to mi casa... I mean resort-o!
MexicanTaxiDriver: Que?

Dammit, I wished I had taken Spanish I & II more seriously back in high school.

Eddie: Ugh... ugh... 5 dollars or pesos, whatever. How far can that get me?
MexicanTaxiDriver: Si, si.

I jumped in. He turned to me,

MexicanTaxiDrive: Que resort?

OH FUCK. I couldn't even remember the name of my own resort! Of all the tidbits I could forget, this was the highest on the list. I rummaged through my pockets looking for some kind of evidence. I had nothing.

Eddie: I... I don't think I know ...

At this point I raised my arms in confusion to break our speech barrier and show him non-verbally what I meant.

Then something caught my eye. The greatest invention in drunken tourist history was around my wrist. My own personal "If lost, please return to blah blah blah": My reentry wristband! I got overly excited and pointed frantically at it to the taxi driver.

Eddie: Oh! Hoteles Solaris!!! Hoteles Solaris!!!

Success. We sped off, but it didn't take long for me to return to an uneasy state. My mind raced:

What if there's 2 Hoteles Solaris' in Mexico?
What if he takes me to the wrong one?
What if $5 wasn't enough?
Would he drop me off half way?
I don't even know what direction I'm heading. How would I get back?
Would he bring me to the side of the road and steal my clothes?
How much are organs worth on the black market?
Oh no! He wants my organs! I know it ...

I sat in the backseat ready to defend myself from his first advance towards my precious organs. It was the quietest cab ride I've ever experienced.

He pulled up to the resort and dropped me off. I didn't even thank the kind man because I was that much on edge. Looking back on it, I really wish I had because that Mexican taxi driver was essentially my guardian angel. He's somewhere out there today--spreading his wings and guiding lost Spring Break souls back to safety. Either that or he was murdered by a Mexican cartel and had his own organs stolen. Either/or.

At this point, drunk recollection took over my body. Earlier I couldn't remember the simple name of my resort, but I could now somehow trace the correct path back to my room. The drunken mind is an astounding yet unpredictable thing.

I stumbled my way back to the exact room number. But--of course--I had no key card. I knocked loudly on the door. No answer. Everyone must have still been at the club.

Luckily, I was still in survival mode. I ripped my shirt off and rolled it into a ball. Tossed in on the floor and made a pillow out of it. In this mental zone, I could have eaten a Mexican rat for nutrition if I was starved enough.

I laid on my makeshift welfare bed.

Jager bombs Lemon drops Buttery Nipples Jell-o Shots Kamikaze Three Wise Men Fuck all that shit Get me some Gin

Jager bombs Lemon drops Buttery Nipples Jell-o Shots Kamikaze Three Wise Men Fuck all that shit Get me some Gin

There I was, laying shirtless in the middle of the night outside my room in a foreign country, and I couldn't help but start laughing hysterically to myself due to a realization.

This was only Day 1.

I woke up from my slumber to a member of our group kicking me in the side.

GroupMember: "DO YOU KNOW HOW FUCKING SCARED WE WERE?! Don't ever do that shit again!"
Eddie: "You were scared? I was lost in fucking Mexico!"

... I believe I won that debate.

Monday, November 26, 2012

Hi, My Name is Eddie Baldasaro

I have been working on this blog for over a year now and it's accumulated almost 40,000 page views. I find that number to be ridiculously high due to the fact that the content has never been packaged with my true voice.

Eddie B!og has been about marketing myself towards potential work and portraying a clean shaven & marketable image like I was taught to do in college.


The kind of writing I've always been drawn towards is about developing a voice and finding humor in your own life that others can enjoy and learn from.

Which brings me here ...

Hi, my name is Eddie Baldasaro, and this is the self-examination of a life-addict. I've been blessed with an ample supply of characters who are straight out of an Adult Swim cartoon. I've had interesting yet unpredictable luck that has always been dictated by consistent dilemmas. I've endured a life of harsh lessons that are just too good to keep to myself.

And most importantly, I accept and appreciate the hilarity in my shortcomings.

I'm a normal, outgoing male who enjoys pushing situations to the brink. I can be a pompous asshole just as much as I can be a great, loyal friend.

I've always tried to cover up my comedic tragedies, but at this point I can only learn to laugh at them. My track record looks different depending on how you type my name into a Google search bar, so I've decided to embrace it all. Because these stories have made me who I am today.

Comedy heals all wounds. If you can't laugh at yourself, then you can't fully understand the way your emotions work. Perfection bores the shit out of me, so how about we learn to praise our imperfections?

Let's start with a story ...

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

A Letter to America

Dear America,

Let me start off by saying, "Thank you petite Baby Jesus... the election is over."

Now that that's out of the way, it's time for a vintage Eddie sized rant.

I'm not a republican or a democrat; just a dude who sits back and watches. Someone who isn't easily swayed by media propaganda, but still secretly loves to see people ricochet off a wall of conflict developed from personal political beliefs as they morph into an entity that's so passionate towards an agenda despite the fact that they haven't actually stepped back to fully understand it.

That was a mouth full, huh?

I'm not saying America is dum and stewpid. I'm just saying that a lot of our beliefs don't manifest from our own morals but instead are spoon fed to us by our favorite news station and "big brother" social figures. References that someone else might call misinformed... just because it isn't the same message spewed as their own dictated references.

I've most likely written this somewhere else, but it's relevant for my political views as well: My primary law in life is "Do what makes you happy as long as it doesn't affect the happiness of others." Short & sweet. This rule has always made sense in my world and I've tried to keep my humanity by using it in the daily situations I encounter. Am I perfect? Hell no, but that's what makes the human race so beautiful. Because if everyone was perfect, what would we have to talk about? Who wants to watch a show where everything goes according to the protagonist's plan without any conflict when they can watch Honey Boo Boo and laugh at her family's imperfections? Where would Jersey Shore be without smush drama? I'm not sure, but I can tell you one place it wouldn't be: On the air.

What I'm trying to say is that the whole political race was a real life television show and we all were characters within it. A majority of the political posts I see on Facebook and Twitter are made in the heat of the moment. People who are so caught up in the social tornado formed from the newest episode of American politics. Their good guy versus the opposing party's bad guy. And no one likes to see their hero lose.

It's easy to lose our cool in battle, but during a political debate with a friend is just ridiculous. It's to a point where some people won't look at an acquaintance in a positive light if they have differing political affiliations. You call that the "American spirit"?

If you feel as if you're a winner and that anyone associated with the "wrong"  political party is a loser, then you are feeding into one of America's many dilemmas. We are a nation divided, and conflicting politics do nothing but separate us as a whole. Half of the people who dedicate themselves to a specific party can't actually tell you why. They'll stick to one fundamental belief and use it as their prime argument. "Obama has been screwing with my gas prices! Support Romney!" "Romney has a demolition crew waiting on the outskirts of Sesame Street! Support Obama!" You can call it following the crowd or handy-down information from popular social butterflies, whatever. When it comes down to it, we just love being apart of a team. We like feeling needed. Hell, that's why "hipsters" dress like other "hipsters" even though they're trying to be unique. Because they're still apart of a team, despite this rebellion to the common ideology and fashion sense of America... but let's get back on track.

This election proves that we have quite a distance to travel before America can ultimately be called a team again. All we've done is proven that America is more divided than ever. We've lost the American dream and have replaced it with a cup filled to the brim with insecurities, fake personalities, and realities filled with misconception. The worst part is, there's no one person or corporation to blame. The media is feeding into their audience's demand of drama with a more than sufficient supply, while corporations toss money around in the shadows for future gain. That last sentence makes our nation sound so corrupt but to me it sounds like the foundation of America. We're a business and that's the way a business works. Is it frustrating? Of course, but as of now there isn't a whole lot we can do about it.

If you've done you're homework on all of the candidates, and your selection has virtue and is truly the person who represents your beliefs, then I'm proud of you. That's your guy and you should stick with him until he offends you. But if you're the type of person who comes home from work just to sit and stare at the glowing box in your living room; waiting for your favorite leaning news station to report something terrible that the opposing candidate said, then you need some positive light in your life. This image is such a downer for society because it actually represents a lot of our cynical population.

If I'm coming off as furious in this post, then know that this wasn't my intention. I'm just an observational kid who puts his fingers to a keyboard whenever he feels the spark. If I believe the finished product will create conversation, brain activity, or interest between people, then I post it here.

To put this into perspective: I work mostly on TV shows even though I don't have cable. Because society is my TV. I love listening to the rustling and turmoil going on around me because it inspires me to create silly little things like this. Such a funny way to get inspiration, right?

Is this a pessimistic look due to yesterday's election results? Not even close to that. We should be constantly looking forward no matter who our president is. This post is just trying to encourage more people to think outside of the box when it comes to politics. And when I say "box" I'm talking about that same box in your living room that has become the loudest member of your family.

Or we can just move on. I mean, it is that time of year to be all American-like and start opening our wallets & purses for the holiday season. These big businesses could use the extra change after investing so much money into these campaigns...

... Man, I'm such an asshole.


Eddie Baldasaro

Tilly and the Wall
"Heavy Mood"
I’ve got the power cuz I live like I want
Ain’t listening to you, I only listen to my heart
No you can't bring us down
We’re way too strong, we’ve got muscle, we are tough

Monday, November 5, 2012

Best Horror Movies on Netflix (2012)

Well I really dropped the ball on this one. I was trying to rate one Netflix streamed horror film a day during the month of October but fell off the bandwagon once work started to pick up. I hate leaving projects unfinished so I'm at least going to end this escapade with the promised list of the Top 10 horror films on Netflix.

If you're one of the 100+ [hey, that's not bad for an old post with zero advertising] who read my list from last year, then prepare for a completely different one. Many personal favorites vanished and have been replaced by classic, indie, and foreign films that are gems in their own sense. So ladies and gentlemen... let's piss ourselves: [how many readers did I lose with that one?]

10. The Burning (1981)
I didn't give this film a great rating, and I ripped into it a bit for the writing... but dammit I can't stop thinking about it. I had so much fun watching it just because of how campy it was. I have a list of other great films that are more deserving of this spot, but The Burning is the one that remains stamped to my brain.
Way to go, George Costanza
9. Hellraiser (1987)Disturbing. That's the best way to put this cult classic. The acting wasn't great, but luckily we have those demonoid looking things to keep us shaking. Freaky lookin' sons o' bitches. I never watched these films as a kid because I remember being terrified of the Pinhead character. Before I turned 10, I'd watch horror classics with the usual terrifying entities: Freddy, Michael, and Jason... but for some reason I always stayed away from Pinhead. Luckily my balls dropped [just lost a few more readers] and I was able to conquer it.

8. The House of the Devil (2009)
I fell hard for this film during the opening credits. The filmmakers did such a great job of masking the movie to look like it was created in the 80's. I couldn't stop myself from annoying the hell out of my roommates with compliments towards the tactics they used. Buuuut [yup there's always a but] there were many times I felt myself just infuriated with the stupidity of the characters. Then again, maybe that's the ultimate tip of the hat to 80's horror films... because the 80's were filled with moronic characters.

7. Dead Snow (2009)
Nazi Zombies & foul Norwegian dialogue.
Enough said.
 6. Red State (2011)
The story might be my favorite part. Because religious nuts terrify me, and this film exploits the hell out of that. The scenes showcasing John Goodman with the ATF (Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, & Firearms) were filled with questionable writing and a hidden agenda by the director, but I did my best to put that behind me and still enjoy the film. It starts off by trying to get you against extremists, then you find yourself hating the government, and finally you just hate everyone. It's almost like the writer/director couldn't make up his mind on who the bad guys really were. Wait... Kevin Smith did this?!

5. Insidious (2011)
Not the most original film on this list yet gets the job done... and then some. There's elements of Poltergeist sprinkled all over the finished product, but it's still filled with scares, twists, and drama to please most horror fanatics as well as a wider audience. Plus, it's one of those horror films that isn't filled with blood, guts, and sexual exploitation, which means you can terrify your whole family with it.

4. The Thing (1982)
The Thing drops 2 spots to #4. This doesn't mean I think any less of the film. It's just I watched a few films that had such an impact on me that I decided to place them a bit higher. Last year I wrote: "Absolutely love this film. So suspenseful yet holds back just to be a dick. Just to keep you on your toes." That is still my feeling.

3. Tucker & Dale Meet Evil (2010)
Not your traditional horror, but it's still greatness. Again, I have to emphasize the fact that I love the concept. Backwoods boys trying to have a fun time at their new cabin, while camping college kids mistake them for serial killers. I have nothing bad to say about it. This film would be even higher on my list if it was actually scary. Sadly, it stands as more of a comedy and spoof of classic slasher films.
 2. Grave Encounters (2011)
"Jeez Eddie shut up already about this film"... I'm going to leave it at that. Just search my blog for the title of this movie and you'll understand why. I'm amazed no one has come up with a conspiracy theory that I'm actually one of The Vicious Brothers trying to market it...

1. The Evil Dead (1981) & 2: Dead By Dawn (1987)
Well here's a bit of cheating. Both of these films weren't streaming throughout the entire month of October. I was a little annoyed yet excited because the list was going to have a new film at the #1 spot, but The Evil Dead returned just to make sure no other film stole it. I included Evil Dead 2 as well even though it's the original that has always had a place in my goosebumps [does that even make sense?]. Also, why not take this chance to plug the upcoming remake? Sure, it won't come close to the original, but that won't stop me from at least trying to stay positive:

A list of horror films with no signs of Paranormal Activity, Saw, or Human Centipede. I proclaim this a triumph. But there were many great foreign films that I never got around to watching. They'll remain in my instant queau so maybe next year they'll make it in. If you want to check some of them out for yourself, here's 5 to give you a head start:

Dream Home (2010)
Kidnapped (2010)
Santa Sangre (1989)
The Host (2006)
A Tale of Two Sisters (2004)

TV on the Radio
"Wolf Like Me"
Now that we got gone for good
Writhing under your riding hood
Tell your gra'ma and your mama too
It's true
We're howling forever

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Horror Films on Netflix 2012 (Part 3)

And I'm back for 5 more films to quench your thirst for horror. [Insert rest of witty intro here] Don't forget to catch up with Part 1 & Part 2.

October 11th: Poltergeist II (1986)
I have to start by stating that the first Poltergeist is a personal favorite. That fact alone set the bar of expectation for this installment very high. It wasn't particularly bad; I just couldn't get behind some major details. The new Native American and evil cult leader characters were stereotypically goofy. They would have benefited from a darker feel that didn't make them look like such cartoon characters. Then again, these films were always made to be "Family Horror" so I guess we're stuck with this.
October 12th: Nosferatu (1922)
Surprisingly creepy. Though this isn't because of excellent film making. Nosferatu is creepy because Max Schreck is naturally creepy. I know it's a classic and perhaps ahead of it's time, but I would have shown way less of the Nosferatu character. That way we can relate more to other major characters. More build-up would have gained Nosferatu a lot more mysticism and would make for a great reveal. Instead we get a few awkward scenes of Mr. Nosferatu walking slowly with his finger nails up. A lot of it seems like the director walked around a set saying "Ooooh, this place is creepy. Max should walk down these parts!" I'd give this film 5 stars due to it's impact on the horror genre, but I guess I must be in a bad mood or something. Sorry Nossy...
October 13th: Hellraiser (1987)
Hellraiser gives goosebumps. No comedy, just a lot of dark, twisted horror. Something a lot of 80's horror films could have used. Not the best acting, but at this point, do we even expect great acting in horror films? I don't usually say this, but this is one of the few horror classics that could use a grand reboot. Pinhead has taken a backseat to Jason, Michael, and Freddy and has been mostly forgotten by today's youth. It's time to raise some hell.

October 14th: Grave Encounters (2011)
Maybe it's because I've always wanted to work on a ghost hunting show, or maybe it's because I can relate to the whole "reality" TV production background. For whatever reason, I love this film more than I should. I'd be the first to say how much the horse has been beaten by "Blair Witch knockoffs", but it comes down to one question: Did your hair stand on the back of your neck? I'd have to answer that with a big "Yes". Sadly, these films don't have much replay value since the jumps are best when unexpected. In fact, the only replay value they really have is watching them with friends to see their reaction. Very "2 Girls, 1 Cup-esque". Gross, I know. But Grave Encounters does a fantastic job of taking it's viewers for a strange ride. Oh, and there's a sequel...

October 15th: The Faculty (1998)
What do Frodo Baggins, Jean Grey, The Daily Show, Shooter McGavin, Hyde from That 70's Show, and Usher all have in common? They're all in this film. And I haven't even mentioned Josh Hartnett or Salma Hayek yet. This might be the strangest assortment of actors I've ever seen. The film is fun but in no way scary. A good way to describe it: Aliens invading the set of American Pie. If I wasn't so familiar with the entire cast, I might have lost all interest within the first 10 minutes. Luckily I get a kick out of seeing actors in a worse state.

Yadda yadda yadda, witty witty witty. Bridge to Halloween music. End Scene.

Marilyn Manson
"Sweet Dreams"
Some of them want to use you
Some of them want to get used by you
Some of them want to abuse you
Some of them want to be abused.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Horror Films on Netflix 2012 (Part 2)

And here we go again with the next installment of Horror Films on Netflix 2012. If you missed the first part you can catch up by clicking here.

October 4th: The Fog (1980)
Who let that creepy old sailor near those kids? This has John Carpenter's fingerprints all over it from the feel to the pace. It doesn't even come within a stone's throw of the original Halloween but it still is efficient enough to get the scares that audiences desire. And I use "scares" loosely. I was never on the edge of my seat but the story was intriguing enough to keep me interested. Sadly, if John Carpenter wasn't the director/writer/music behind this film, I have a feeling that it would have been forgotten with time.
October 5th: The Thing (1982)
Sorry to all the dog lovers for that video, but John Carpenter redeems himself with this instant classic. And no, I'm not talking about that new prequel. The original has such a suspenseful feel to it so you'll have no choice but to get involved with the story. You'll be teased with potential scares over and over again until you just can't take it anymore and develop anxiety. Last year I had The Thing ranked as the #2 horror film on Netflix. Maybe it'll take the #1 spot for this year???

October 6th: Tucker & Dale vs. Evil (2010)
Genius! While watching this film, I had the sudden urge to rip the concept off and do my own movie just for fun. I love the idea of having a friendly pair of rednecks who just want to enjoy their new vacation cabin in the woods but are terrorized by neighboring college kids due to stereotyping and a lot of bad luck. The action is ridiculous at times but you can't help but feel for these two backwoods boys as they go through this hilarious yet unrelenting ordeal.

October 7th: Atrocious (2010)
Another one of those "Oh look! A camera! I should videotape everything until I die in the not so distant future!" kinds of movies ... except it's in Spanish. Very slow despite it having a short running time of 1 hour and 13 minutes. I understand why the filmmakers were spending so much time developing the vastness of the maze, but I found my interest getting just as lost as these characters. The payoff was decent though. It ends on a scary note but had nothing original to add to the popular "Oh look! A camera! I Should videotape everything until I die in the not so distant future!" sub-genre of horror. Official name?

October 8th: The Burning (1981)
I got into this a lot more than I should have. My rating is based purely on how well the film was made, but if I factor in my love for 80's slasher films, it would be a little bit higher. I enjoyed the characters despite their goofiness. Plus, it has a young, less bald George Costanza. I would make some changes though. I would have trashed the story behind the burnt killer going to the hospital to ultimately turn into a psychopath when he kills a New York prostitute. Either advance his depth of character by showing more of his metamorphosis or keep it as an old campfire story. Or maybe turn the nerd into a schizophrenic, revengeful killer who is mistaken for the burnt man. But it's from the stereotypical 80's so we're stuck with a predictable Friday the 13th rip-off.

October 9th: Trick 'r Treat (2007)
Well this sucks. Trick 'r Treat was just recently pulled from Netflix. I was prepared to go on a rant about how I've watched this film multiple times after my first viewing. Last October, I had it at #6 on my Top 10 Horror Films on Netflix, but now it's become my new favorite Halloween film. It's very entertaining and I can't get enough of it. I assume it'll be back streaming once finishes it's 24 hour Halloween marathon of the film, but who knows. How bout we get that planned sequel out?!
RATING (despite disqualification):

October 10th: Creepshow (1982)
Not a film to scare, just entertain. The tagline almost gets it right when it proclaims Creepshow as "The Most Fun You'll Ever Have Being Scared". Basically what we have here is a horror anthology directed by the great George A. Romero with a screenplay from the just as great Stephen King. That makes it's easy to get behind despite it's real lack of horror. The entertainment factor hasn't stopped this film from becoming a lovable classic though. Plus appearances from Ted Danson & Leslie Nielsen can't hurt, right?

Another installment of spooky thrills finished. Just 20 more films to go before we go ahead and make a Top 10 out of these bad boys on Halloween. In the meantime, here's another tune to keep your mind indulged with the spirit of Halloween.

Rob Zombie
"Living Dead Girl"
Crawl on me
Sink into me
Die for me
Living Dead Girl
Blood on her skin
Dripping with Sin
Do it again
Living Dead Girl

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Horror Films on Netflix 2012 (Part 1)

Ladies and gentlemen, it's officially October, which means I've gone horror movie crazy. We're already 3 days in and I'm 3 films deep with a whole list of potential Netflix gems that will keep my mind satisfied until Halloween. And as long as my freelance work doesn't pick up again (looking like it might), I'll be updating this blog regularly throughout the month with reviews and suggestions.

So lets start this bucket of filth off right. The first few days I've decided to ease myself into the process with movies that aren't the scariest or best, but definitely have their perks.You'll see what I'm talking about...

October 1st: Fido (2007)
A Zombie War that ends with Zombies enslaved as the humans' servants? What an interesting Canadian film. I love the concept and alternate 1950's timeline, but I thought the Cinematographer could have done a better job of imitating the filmmaking style of the 50's. I'm not saying it was bad in any way. It's just the music, acting, and writing all fit the content but the cinematography, minus the opening shown above, just didn't do the same for me. Still a great satire on American values and the media with enough zombie fun to please most enthusiasts. Wait a minute... isn't that Trinity from The Matrix???

October 2nd: Killer Klowns from Outer Space (1988)
"What are you gonna do, knock my block off?!" Let me explain my mindset throughout the film. First I started with some laughter for the horrible writing/acting and ridiculousity [new word alert] of everything. Then there was a bunch of "WTF's" let out during certain scenes. My laughter would dissipate... and I slowly dozed off ... I woke up for the not-so-climatic ending and with a negative impression stained to my mind. On a positive note, the clown costumes were incredible for the time. And according to the directors, they're planning a sequel next year. Will I watch it? ...Eh, why not? "Damn". 

October 3rd: Dead Snow (2009)
Well if this doesn't make you want to play a round of Call of Duty: Nazi Zombies then I don't know what will. Basically a Norwegian Friday the 13th installment, but instead of the young, horny campers being terrorized by an undead Jason Voorhees on Camp Crystal Lake (or in Space... ugggh), they're attacked by an undead army of Nazis in the snowy mountains of Norway. I had a lot of fun watching this film. Ridiculous at times, but that was expected. I wasn't too excited about having to read subtitles for 88 minutes, but the actors do a great job of carrying the film despite the language barrier. Thoroughly enjoyed.

Well that be alls I got so far. And just so you can have a sneak peak of what's in store, here's some of the films that made it to this month's Queue:

The Burning
Children of the Corn
Creepshow 2
The Faculty
The Fog
Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer
The Host
House on Haunted Hill (1959)
Land of the Dead
The Last Exorcism
Poltergeist II
The Prince of Darkness
Santa Sangre
The Sentinel (1977)
Session 9

As you can see, I've really dropped the ball by never seeing some mandatory cult hits (Candyman, Children of the Corn, The Fog). I've also fallen behind on the foreign horror scene, which is some of the best right now. And note the lack of Human Centipede films. Take that for what it's worth. Oh, and I might as well keep this month's "Tasty Track's" consistent with content...

The Misfits
Bonfires burning bright
Pumpkin faces in the night
I remember halloween
Dead cats hanging from poles
Little dead are out in groves
I remember halloween