Got out of New Moon a little while ago. Made several attempts to review it, and they all sucked. So I'll try to sum it up:

Not my favorite show. Somewhere between a B and a B-. Choppy editing, the soundtrack was utterly forgettable, and why wasn't Ashley Green in it a whole lot more...? Soooo hot.....

The first director was a thousand times better, the special effects, specifically the running sequences, were marginally improved and I still can't get over how Kristen Stewart is so beautiful on camera when she looks like hell in all of the movie premier and TMZ pictures I've seen.

The book was a letdown from Twilight, so I'll give that to the director, but a better soundtrack and less Pink Floyd scenes could have really added some depth to it.

To illustrate my point, I give you a compilation from the Lost Boys set to the signature track Cry Little Sister by G Tom Mac. This was 1987. Vampires up until this point had been the traditional tux and cape "blah blah I vant to suk your blood" type and Joel Schumacher (yeah, I probably misspelled it ass)using a timeless soundtrack and an act that only Keifer Sutherland could pull off, reinvented the vampire movie for us. The New Moon crew should have done a little more homework...

Engage Maverick Engage..!!!!!!

Taking you back to 1986 when Tom Cruise, Kenny Loggins, and Top Gun made aviators cool and shirtless volleyball games even cooler. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, STOP. Go rent Top Gun, take the time to ponder the message, and then come back. You know I'll be here. It's mighty cold and might dark. I sure ain't going outside...
My title is a reference to the scene in Top Gun where Maverick, still recovering from the death of his RIO Goose, finds himself outnumbered, and in the middle of a dogfight with the latest Russian Mig (which all my fellow nerds are saying to themselves, that's no Mig, its a T38 Talon).

Anyways, Maverick, blaming himself and his reckless flying for the death of his best friend Goose, has lost his nerve. Or edge, or mojo... Whatever you want to call it. In training dogfights, he just quits and walks away much to the chagrin of his comrades. (probably shouldn't have said comrades since he's fighting Russians)

Eventually, however, something clicks inside of him, he gets back on the saddle, dives into the fight, and sends the commies back to the motherland.

Getting back on the saddle isn't always easy... I can remember several times when I'd been out of the game for a period of time and getting back in was really difficult. The first long hiatus I took was for a period of a little over two and a half years. No dating, no parties, nothing. Just work. I didn't think like a guy on the prowl. I'd turned into an old man and didn't know it. Luckily I had some very good friends who helped to get me back into the game. I remember, one night, as we were about to go out. I'd gotten all dressed and cleaned up and was about to leave with the boys when my friend Mike stopped me dead in my tracks and said, "Dude, at least untuck your shirt..." I didn't realize until that moment, that the button down shirt, khakis, and dress shoes I was wearing, made me look like a dad. I untucked the shirt, grabbed one of my trusty casual jackets or vests (can't remember which, but we're talking about one of the big poofy outdoor vests that were in style at the time)

The next time occurred a couple of years later. I'd been in a very serious relationship with the same girl for almost a year when it abruptly came to an end. Having been out of the game for sometime, I floundered a bit. I'd forgotten how to do it. Luckily, I was once again surrounded with great friends; cheerleaders from the university I was going to. They were kind of like little sisters to me, and seeing my dilemna, took it upon themselves to help me. They hooked me up with one of their freshmen cheerleaders, a girl with dark hair and eyes that smiled when she smiled (I only mentioned that because I think great smiles are rare, and this girl had a million dollar smile that lit up the room) Oh yeah, and she was curvey and smokin hot too. Still at that fun, carefree age, and impressed by my age and social stature, I was making out with her in the parking lot the same night of our first introduction and many subsequent nights after that. Hate to use the term "friends with benefits" or "booty call friend"..........ok no I don't.... but that's what we ended up being. That girl was like a healing balm to me, and night after night she eventually restored my waning mojo. To this day, I consider her one of my favorite people and dearest friends from college, and I will always be grateful to her.

Now fast forward to the present. The big "D" happened a little over a year ago. During it, I became fat ass. After the papers were signed, I hung out with a few girls. Probably hooked up with six since the signing (including the ex a few times) But still haven't quite been able to get back on the horse.

When I go to parties, I still clam up, get nervous and look for emergency exits. In setups or one on ones, I'm not that much better. Kinda in a weird place in life, and so its really hard to make conversation. Bert has tried to help a few times, but for some reason, his setups feel like that time when we took our dog to the breeder and four or five of us sat out there in the back yard waiting for them to mate.

On Sunday, Bert invited me over to his lady's parent's house for Sunday dinner. Didn't know that they had also invited one of his girl's friends in hopes of some sort of setup. The friend was actually cute too. Really cute. My smooth line of the night was, after I found out we lived in the same apartment complex, "Oh yeah? You guys have really good parking out by your building. Much better than mine...."

Smooth like buttah right?

14 years ago, I was at a charity banquet with my dad where Miss America was the guest of honor. When I saw her, I thought she was really cute. I didn't see the sash, the big head table or the mayor sitting next to her. I just saw a cute girl that I wanted to meet. So I got up, walked over to the band, asked for a special number, walked up in front of all those people, and asked her to dance. It wasn't a dancing event at all. I made it one. She said yes, I escorted her down near the band, and in front of several thousand people, I danced with Miss America. Cool girl. *on a side note, several years later, I was talking to a buddy who was friends with a beauty pageant queen. The girl was friends with Miss America, and related a story to my buddy, told to her by Miss America, about a time when she was at a banquet and this guy asked her to dance in front of everyone, and how cool it was.

That was me 14 years ago. The me now, makes comments about a young lady's excellent selection of parking stalls behind her building and leaves parties after 20 minutes and a whole lotta flop sweat. I really hope I can figure out how to get back on the horse soon.

Anyways... here you go folks. Hope it'll work some magic....

My Two-fer

Yep, that's right folks... I'm back. After that last post, I was still emoting, so I played a couple more Johnny Cash tunes on youtube which led me to Hank Williams Jr. to John Anderson, David Lee Murphy, Brooks and Dunn, Alabama, Alan Jackson......well, you get the theme don't you?

Treasuring my anonymity, I hesitate to share pertinent facts about #1, but I will share this much with you... I'm from the South. And my roots run deep too. Couldn't tell you how many generations back, but well before the Civil War. I'm an old fashioned Iron Eagle American. Love my country, and proud of my heritage

As I sat here, playing the different videos, I started to feel better. I guess I get a certain strength from my roots and its comforting to remember from time to time who I am and where I came from.

Along with that Southern heritage, which I treasure and would never trade, I was brought up with the belief that I was a son of God and that as his son, I could always call upon him when in need. Can't tell you how many times I got down on my knees begging for strength and comfort and how many times he answered me with his love. I was taught, from childhood, to believe in Jesus, and that belief became an anchor through everything that happened. I used to picture myself on a rock, out in the sea with a furious storm blowing. Wind, rain, waves pounding everywhere and on that rock was a curved bar, kind of like a handle. And as long as I held onto that bar, I stayed anchored to that rock, and the wind and the rain and the storm couldn't get me.

There were times that I felt so dark and so lost that I thought I would be swallowed up, and I didn't know what to do or where to go, so I would get down on my knees and plead and that anchor never failed. Sure, I got beat up a little bit, but that anchor of faith held firm and I'm still here. I will always be grateful to God for it.

If there was anything that I am glad my parents taught me, it was the knowledge of who I was and who God was. I don't quite have everything figured out. Some things in my life are still a mess, and I'm definitely an emotional cripple. But I'm still here. Sometimes it's all we can do to just ride out the storm....

Old Wounds Still Stinging

Gonna have to apologize beforehand folks out there in cyberspace, because today I'm going to deviate from my usual upbeat rhythm and rhyme...

Remember how, a few posts ago, I talked about the ability of a smell, a sound or some other trigger to take us back to a specific place and time? Usually, for the old soapbox, that's a good thing. Whole lotta great memories to relive at opportune moments. Unfortunately, those same triggers can sometimes take us back to unhappy places; a breakup perhaps or even the death of a loved one...

I saw a face today, just a picture actually, that took me back to my divorce last year. Yeah, I flunked marriage the first time around. Tried to get it right but it just didn't take. I've broken bones, gotten dumped, lost jobs, been arrested, heck, I've even been shot at, but none of that compares to the pain of being divorced.

You see, when you get married, part of the contract is that you will be loyal to each other first and foremost, and that the other person will be put first. Well, it didn't work out that way for me. Loyalty, along with trust and respect were never part of our not so blessed union. Wish I could blame everything on her, but there are volumes of things that I messed up. Don't get me wrong gang.... Old Soapie was never an abuser, never a cheater, and I didn't have some weird porn addiction either. I was just very new to the job and brought a whole bunch of imperfections with me. Things that I wish I could have done better.

What hurts the most, however, is the whole betrayal end of it... I found out from the start that my wife was never in my corner, and I found out (although I'd suspected all along) that her heart had reserved space for another, and after the divorce, I saw her eventually marry him. By the time we were ready for divorce, I was pretty done with her, but I still loved her, and when I found out that they were getting married, it pierced me to the very core.

The healing process has been slow, but steady and I've been feeling like my old self a little bit at a time until recently when I realized that I might have to face someone from that past in the near future. Thinking about it, what he'll probably tell everyone he knows (and mind you, they will be all lies) just puts a black pit in my stomach. Funny thing is, its not a problem of physical intimidation. I could knock the little bastard into next week. Its just having to deal with the gossip and false rumors about something that was already painful enough as it was.

It was such a dark time.... So many hours in painful silence or burying my face in pillows so that no one could hear my sobs. I never want to go back there again. I can't even begin to describe it.

Sorry if this brings you down, but it helps to talk about it abeit not in too much detail mind you... (I treasure the anonymity of cyberspace) Anyways, when it comes to pain, I believe in letting it all out, and music is a big part of that. So I thought I'd give you a taste of some of my depressed music.

Johnny Cash - Hurt
Uploaded by Dan_of_the_Land. -

Taking One For The Team

We've all done it. Call me and optimist, but despite all of the ugliness and evil that surrounds us everywhere, the Soapbox firmly believes that, beneath the selfishness, behind the backstabbing, there lies in all of us streaks of greatness and nobility... Whether it's telling the lady ahead of us in self checkout that she forgot her cash back in the dispenser, or not hitting it with the emotionally vulnerable friend who works at Hooters because she is genuinely trying to become a better person, to not giving the Hawaiian peace sign to the asshole in the minivan who just cut us off because he has small children in the car, I believe that there are times when all of us show glimmers of nobility that are far too often unnoticed and unrecognized...

Understanding the inspirational nature of the telling of these noble acts, I shall bless your lives by sharing one of mine...

"Just take one for the team..." We've all heard it. Most of us, unless you're pure evil, have done it. Like the urinal rule, it's one of those unwritten, but written in stone golden rule/kharma laws that men live by. Under "taking one for the team" a friend agrees to undergo humiliation, hang out with the ugly friend, get his ass kicked in a bar fight, all in the name of friendship and, with the understanding that the favor would one day be returned in like manner.

That said, this past weekend, as you all know, was Halloween, and I, the soapbox, being a true child of the night embrace the dark holiday often coming up with four or five amazing ideas well in advance of the magic night. Sifting through such awe-inspiring ensembles ranging from Weird Al in "Eat It", to Shonuff (my homage to this 80's martial arts/blaxploitation classic), to a member of the Black Panther Party, I'd settled on a last minute stroke of genius; Kenny Powers from HBO's Eastbound and Down. *for those of you not familiar with the show, it's the story of a redneck baseball phenom and his fall from grace. Picture what probably happened to John Rocker and there you go. Funny premise, and even funnier with Danny McBride starring as Kenny Powers, it's one you shouldn't watch unless you are extremely thick skinned. One episode can even leave the soapbox feeling a little yucky with its overboard vulgarity. I can only watch parts of it. You have been warned....*

Anyways, my idea was to wear all black, get a black gheri curl mullet, and let maybe 85% of the party crowd ask me who I was with 15% of the crowd instantly getting it, cracking up, and begging for a picture to post on facebook. Couple of problems with that, however; first, I wasn't going alone. I was going with my old buddy, Bert, who you might have remembered from the movie theater debacle... When going with a buddy, having a mutual theme always helps. Second problem was, the party we would be going to was a church party, meaning that the 15% of party guests that would recognize my Kenny Powers getup would be reduced to maybe 4%, which could be a blessing in disguise seeing that any hot girl that would recognize the outfit and the genius behind it would be a naughty church girl, but mainly being a problem as half the night would be spent explaining the costume to people who would instantly be offended or later be offended when they went home and looked the show up on youtube.

That being said, I talked to Bert, who said that his girlfriend and her girlfriends were going to take care of the costumes and that all I needed to do was wear all black. He wasn't 100% sure what the idea was, just said something about America's Best Dance Crew and his girlfriend's hot friends. It wasn't as cool as Kenny Power's, but Bert's my boy and the hot friends lessened the blow so I went with it.

I rolled over to Bert's at the appointed time dressed in the requisite black and having made lemonade out of the not-cool-as-my-idea costume with the promise of getting in good with the hot friends. When we went over to his lady's house, that's when my Halloween nightmare began....

Either the hot friends had decided to dress up as fat girls or I'd been terribly duped, because I walked into the house to find a whole bunch of broad backs being covered by a whole lotta costume material and not enough make-up. One of the ducers actually made a comment about wishing that she could do something about her waist. I was about to whole heartedly agree when I realized that she was referring to her costume.

As for the costumes.......... When he said America's Best Dance Crew, I pictured those Asian breakdancers, the Jabberwokies (forgive the spelling folks), and, remembering that they'd performed with Shaq and wore cool masks, was pretty ok with the concept. Apparently, old Bert hadn't been paying his phone bill and had bad reception when they were telling him about the costumes, because the idea was to be more like a "glee" club with homemade costumes and not like the one on TV with the hot cheerleaders. Everything not gay in me wanted to run far away, but Bert was my boy, and he'd just hooked me up with a bunch of lortab for my back (not a druggie folks, I just tweaked it working out and had been in severe pain) so I dutifully sat while the ladies applies fake suspenders and fuzzy bracelets.

I kept telling myself that it wouldn't be too bad, that it would be really dark, and that we could just disappear into the crowd. I was so wrong... So very wrong.

At a Halloween party, you want people to look at you. Dressed as Kenny Powers, I would have enjoyed the inquisitive looks of the innocent, the disapproving glances of the knowing, and the high fives from the very not innocent, but the looks I got as I walked into that room will haunt my dreams for years. Their eyes told stories of pity, of mockery, of "oh please don't come talk to me you weirdo", and I could feel every pair of eyes look at me in a slow, arduous social castration. The girlfriend's two friends that dialed in under two bills quickly disappeared into the crowd. My good buddy, who already had a girlfriend and guaranteed action proceeded to dance the night away. After a couple of attempts to socialize and explain my costume, I let the lortab take the wheel and found a quiet chair in the shadows for the last half hour of the party.

Looking back, I realized that Bert, since he already had a lady, didn't need me to take one for the team, and that Kenny Powers, offensive and unrecognizeable to so many would been a thousand times better.

With my mojo reserves back down to a critical level, I'm gonna take the next couple of days and regroup. Luckily the Yankees have opened up a can in the World Series, and a forecast of beautiful weather for the rest of the week will allow me to get in some good workouts.

In an attempt to illustrate what could have been and the hopelessness of my situation, and in keeping with my tradition of sharing awesome videos, I give you this masterpiece:

'nother Classic to Jam To - Milli Vanilli

Yep, that's right folks, it's that lonely little voice calling out from the depths of cyberspace into the great nothing, and that little voice, Moi, is feeling nostalgic... Not that you haven't noticed the recurring theme. Sometimes I wonder if I enjoyed these bits as much at the time as I remember them now, but no matter. A little smile when no one else is around, that little tap of the feet to the music, and yes, even the occasional tear trickling down the cheek could very well be constructs of both experience and imagination all tempered by time.

Today, tonight, whatever, as I listen to the night waiting for the storm to hit, I'm thinking about a group that took us all by storm, won our hearts, and then left us all feeling just a little bit betrayed... Well, not me, at least, but definitely those douche-bags at Rolling Stone and MTV (That's right, the 80's child called someone a douche-bag...Faggot, butthole, and queer aren't far behind, and they aren't so much a reference to fashion conscious men as they are indicators of an idiot or someone I just plain don't like)

When "Girl You Know It's True" came out, we were all awestruck by the catchy song, the new dance moves, and the style and charisma of Rob and Fab. We memorized the songs, attempted the dance, and sat by the radio with the blank cassette in, hoping to get that classic recorded on our mix tape....

Then, our world collapsed.... Milli Vanilli was a fraud. Two good looking black guys lip syncing to a tune sung by ugly black guys. We buried our loyalties, turned on the impostors and moved on to better music with more integrity....

Personally, I think it's retarded. That song, as well as the others, was awesome! The video rocked! And hopefully father time has worked his healing magic on us enough to look back and remember with fondness.... Ladies and Gents, I give you "Girl, You Know It's True"

Milli Vanilli - Girl You Know It's True
Uploaded by jpdc11. - Explore more music videos.

Song of the Day

I know, he's a freak, and he's got some stuff to answer for in the hereafter, but folks, sometimes, you just gotta put some Michael in.... So many masterpieces. Rating them would be an abomination... So why "Human Nature" Soapy..? Well, this song is, for me, one of those time warp nuggets, or time portals. A time warp nugget or time portal is anything like a song, a smell, or even a taste that takes you back to a specific point and time. Sometimes they aren't the best times, such as breakups, but time has a funny way of patching up the wounds and turning scars in to treasured memories...

You're probably wondering what magic moment this takes me back to... It takes me back to 1995, to a white Mitsubishi Eclipse, late at night behind my dorm. I was at a club earlier that night (or that week) and I saw this girl in a bikini contest. She won. I later found out that her name was Tiffany, and somehow, by some bizarre miracle, who knows, maybe the moon was making some funky things happen, but however it did happen, this little winner of the bikini contest (her's was white and yes, she wholeheartedly deserved to win), who I met later that night, had a thing for old Soapbox... Yep, she wanted my gear...

We ended up hanging out that night, or maybe a few nights after that. I have no idea what the activity was, but we somehow ended up in her car outside my dorm making out to the wee hours of the morning... Nothing naughty mind you. Not that she wasn't willing, but I was pretty inexperienced beyond the basic makeout.

Not sure the we clicked on an intellectual or spiritual level, but she was smoking hot and very into me. I remember going through her CD's looking for some tender music to put on, and the only one I could find that was remotely appropriate was Michael Jackson's Thriller album (on a side note, it's very cool that she would have that). And, being a Michael Jackson affictionado, I went right to Human Nature and probably hit replay on it 20 or 30 times that night....

It was just one of those fun, innocent times that we all have (at least I hope we all do) where the stars align and we have that one perfect night with another person (coupled of course with the fact that I, by some miracle, scored the winner of a bikini contest at a club who was light years out of my league)

So you can listen to it however you want, but as for me, I'm going to lower the lights, kick my seat back, close my eyes, and let classic transport me to that happy place in 1995..........



In case you're wondering, I never saw Tiffany again after that night. We parted ways amicably. I was heading in a direction that she didn't want to go, and she was going in a direction that I couldn't go. In talking about it to my awestruck buddies the next day, I later found out that her dad was the coach at their high school, and armed with this knowledge, I probably could have hunted her down, but I think I'll just let this perfect moment live in the untouchable past.....

Better Off Dead

So, I'm about to post about an 80's movie with an 80's pop soundtrack while listening to Straight Tequila Night by John Anderson, so if my review's a bit off, my apologies....

Better Off Dead tells the story of one Lane Meyer (played by John Cussack), a painfully average teenager who suddenly discovers himself dumped by his girlfriend who's looking to climb the social ladder by hooking up with the captain of the ski team.

Lane's family is a little off. His mother is kind of a Martha Stewart on acid-type, who's always experimenting with new dishes. His father, is a middle-aged attorney who makes feeble, misguided attempts to connect with lane. His younger brother, Badger, is a mute who occupies his time building space shuttles and picking up on grown women.

The plot of the movie involves Lane's methods of dealing with the breakup, his attempts at joining the ski team, and his getting over his ex.

If you watch this, don't look for a plot. Lane is a typical, abeit overexaggerated,
teenager who habitually underperforms and over-reacts. He is aided by his best friend, the guy who played Booger in Revenge of the Nerds, and by a french foreign exchange student named Monique (played by Diane Franklin, one of the princesses in Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure) who, grows on you as the film is played out. Monique's spunky spirit and gentle proddings eventually get Lane out of his depression.

I thought the cartoon sequences were dumb and the weird mom gag got a little old, but Booger had me rolling and the whole romance over time thing with Monique culminating in a date with cheesy music in the background really gets you. John Anderson and the effing loud thunderstorm outside may have tweaked this post a bit, but make no mistake, Better Off Dead is my number 2 for a very good reason. So order up a pizza, pop it in, and prepare to get transported back to simpler times my friends.............



I know it's pathetic, but I'm a huge sucker for the romance montages that are in most 80's movies. Here's the gay romance montage song from Better Off Dead...

Being Drunk is Never an Excuse

Forgive me if I deviate from the usual upbeat tone of my blog, but sometimes, a brother's gotta speak his mind.

Had a run in with a guy just a little while ago. He came into my place with a woman that was obviously not his wife and was giving giving me a hard time. My position is one where I am expected to that might not be in the best of spirits, and that's fine. But, even I, with the worlds longest fuse, wanted to clock this chump. I had to tell him to shut up, which I don't like, but it was more for his protection

Maybe someone out there (and yes, I know I'm writing to cyber ghosts and an invisible audience) can help me understand why people think it's ok to be assholes when they're drunk? BEING DRUNK IS NEVER AN EXCUSE

A nondrinker, I can't stand obnoxious drunks. They ruin everyone's night and then, if they have half a conscience, blame it on the alcohol.

That's pretty much the same thing as a hit man blaming a murder on his gun or a rapist blaming his act on...well... you know.

Take some responsibility folks.... If you've EVER been told that you can be obnoxious,"get a little loud", "go a little crazy", "a little out of control" take the hint and realize that whoever is telling you this, is trying to tell you that you have a problem. Are you that lacking in personality? Are you that mad at Mommy and Daddy or church? Are you that insecure?

Take up a hobby, go talk to a shrink, exercise more, but please, please, lay off the booze.....

Songs that get me pumped up even though they are kind of weird

Blame it on my sisters for exposing me to the evil that is New Kids on the Block, but whenever I hear the song "Step by Step", my head starts moving with the music, the world fades away and the catchy disco violins transport me to a 70's movie where I'm in a high speed chase, and I'm taking my full size Oldsmobile Cutlass sideways around a corner either running from or chasing the bad guys.

Fact of the matter is, there are a whole lot gay songs out there (and being a child of the 80's, I am using the word 'gay' in that period's general context) that I kinda dig.

I still remember the first time I heard Vanilla Ice on the radio. I was at home, listening to one of the local Hip Hop stations, when the announcer got on and said that he was gonna play this new song by this Vanilla Ice character. He was raving about how hot the song was and how cool Vanilla was. I don't think that he knew that Ice was white, originally named Rob Van Winkle, and that he grew up in the suburbs, not Miami beach. All he knew is that it was a good song. And we all listened to it. And everyone started wearing Miami Hurricanes gear and convertible 5.0 Mustang GT's became the coolest car on the planet. Then, one day, someone somewhere decided that Ice wasn't cool. And we took off our Miami caps, buried our newfangled Vanilla Ice "CD's" under Red Hot Chili Peppers and Nirvana "CD's" and tried to erase him from our minds. How many people proudly cranked "Ice Ice Baby" and "Play that Funky Music" for all to hear and then quietly turned down the volume, still ,quietly and shamefully, enjoying it after his fall from grace....?

Want another example? Despite the fact that it's a cheesy song, with a terrible music video, sung by malnourished english geek who, for some reason has the voice of a black R&B singer, I love "Never Gonna Give You Up" by Rick Astley. You can't even Rick-roll me because I Rick-roll myself (by the way, I think it would be awesome to Rick-roll everyone at my funeral).

It happens that because of the opinion of some bitter, lonely writer at some pop culture magazine, or because of a DJ or because it belongs to a particular genre, good songs are often labeled as being gay, or cheesy, or lame and are forced to bear a stigma that should not be theirs. Critics, who are these people, get it so wrong so often and nobody has the guts to stand up and call it like it is. I wish someone would have the guts to stand up and say that some of Beyonce's music blows, or Uma Thurman is really not that hot, or Quentin Tarantino makes as many good movies as the Detroit Lions win football games.

Yet, despite my pleas, we continue to faun over the mediocre and suppress greatness. It's a pipe dream to wish that one day, people will wake up and admit that Kurt Cobain only really made one good song, the Doors were over-rated, and the Olive Garden serves better food than most "Mom and Pop" Italian restaurants.

With that, I give you an ever-expanding list of songs, singers, movies, and shows that are awesome even though MTV or my trendy friends are too insecure to admit it.

SONGS, SINGERS, MOVIES AND SHOWS THAT, DESPITE WHAT THE TRENDIES SAY, ARE AWESOME:

1. "Step by Step" - New Kids on the Block
2. "Never Gonna Give You Up" - Rick Astley
3. the Thundercats theme song
4. The entire Rocky soundtrack
5. Cloak and Dagger
6. "MMMmmm Bop" - Hansen
7. Theme song from the cartoon "Silver Hawks"
8. "Ice Ice Baby" - Vanilla Ice
9. Star Trek Deep Space Nine
10. Condorman
11. Jersey Girl
12. Bobby Brown
13. Iron Eagle
14. Theme song to Neverending Story
15. Naughty Girls Need Love - Samantha Fox (although her hotness supersedes any cheese or gayness)

Dope Song of the Day

Here's a little bit of LL for you from the good old days...

LL Cool J - I Need Love
Uploaded by classics007. - See the latest featured music videos.

Piven's a Vampire

Most of us are familiar with Ari Gold, Jeremy Piven's over the top character from the HBO original show Entourage. Some of us are familiar with his work in PCU, Lucas, or even Better off Dead. Let's face it. The guy's got longevity. But while I was reviewing clips of Lucas to put in the previous entry, I realized something.... Jeremy Piven has had the same receding hairline, early 40's look to him for over 20 years...! What's up with that?

IMDB.com has him Piven listed as being 44 years old. Lucas, released in 1986 but probably filmed in 1985 would have put Jeremy at around 20 years old. The trailer I posted is awesome, so I have no problem inviting you to watch it again and tell me what you think. That's no 20 year old playing a high school kid. That looks like a middle age man. Something just doesn't add up...

Here's some more proof for you. This is a trailer for PCU, one of my favorites...

Movie Review: Lucas (1986)

Corey Haim's breakout role, Keri Green's pre-Goonies introduction, one of Charlie Sheen's earlier works, and even a minor role played by Entourage's Jeremy Piven, Lucas is one of those movies that will make you laugh, get you angry and maybe even squeeze out a tear.

Lucas Bly is a little different. A brain light years ahead of his classmates, social skills millenia behind, small, younger than the others, and just a little weird, Lucas kinda lives in his own solitary world, hunting bugs and wandering the landscape in his town. That is.... until he meets Maggie. Maggie (played by Keri Green) is the new girl in town and Lucas is instantly smitten. She's older, fun, and best of all for Lucas, she doesn't have any friends in town yet. For a short time, he has her all to himself and he lets her into his strange little world where the two form a bond.

Their perfect little existence is thrown into chaos, however, when high school starts and Lucas, because of his size and quirks, becomes the target of bullies while Maggie, pretty and unpretentious, garners the attention of the star football player played by Charlie Sheen. In any other movie, Sheen's character would be the enemy, but in 'Lucas' Sheen is a good guy and often acts as Lucas' protector.

While he might be more intelligent than the other kids, Lucas still has the emotions of a 14 year old, and begins to take drastic measures in an effort to win Maggie's heart.

I wasn't one of those guys who was shaving when he was twelve, and I'm still waiting for my voice to change. The wonder that is my brain has been able to block out a lot of the ugly things that I went through, but I still remember the awkwardness, trying to fit in, having a crush on a girl, not knowing what to do about it, and upon trying to do something about it, crashing an burning in a blaze of poetic Jon Bon Jovi glory. I dealt with bullies, wore glasses, tried to buy cool clothes and never could get it right, so when it comes to Lucas, I can relate.

And it doesn't happen later in the film, it's right there at the beginning. Something about the music and the intro and I was instantly hooked. Right from the beginning I felt like I knew this weird little guy and it was like that throughout the entire show.

Watch Lucas when you have some quiet time. When you're in a pensive mood or maybe you haven't had the best day. It's not a big group movie but perfect for one or two people. I always tell people, 'give Lucas five minutes' if you're not hooked, we can change it out for a crappy Adam Sandler movie, most of which aren't all that funny, but I'm convinced people laugh out of social pressure kinda like when they spout off about their enduring love for the outdoors.

Here's a little clip. Trust me....

Third Times the Charm

But Soapie, you've already posted twice today..! Isn't three times a bit much? Well folks and folkettes, that's the beauty of this blog: first, it's mine. I can post whatever I feel like posting. Second, I'm the Lonely Soapbox, and it is my job to stand up tall and proclaim important things. And third, well, it's a lonely soapbox for a very good reason.... Anyways, here's my beef;

Berry Gordy's The Last Dragon

Unoriginal Hollywood blasphemers have once again chosen to defiled a classic piece of cinematic perfection with their remake of Berry Gordy's The Last Dragon. Now, I don't know details, but the little I do know is enough to make a billygoat puke (First Blood quote). They have picked nonother than over-rated, over-exposed, poser-extraordinaire Samuel L. Jackson to butcher the beloved role of Shonuff, Shogun of Harlem... Adding insult to injury they're installing flavor of the month, who they pretend is a 10 when she's actually a 6, Rihanna to play the role of Laura Charles previously played by Prince protege Vanity. Now if you haven't been blessed to behold the ethereal perfection of Vanity, I am including the trailer from the original movie below.

Samuel....they let him redo Shaft, they dared to put him in Star Wars, and now this..?! A thousand actors known and unknown could have pulled it off and we will get stuck with Jackson. That's just depressing.....

In case you need a refresher, here's the original trailer:

Dope Song of the Day

Candy Girl by New Edition

One of New Edition's earlier songs, immortalized by Salma Hayak in Dogma creating a fantasy that will most likely never be fulfilled especially since I broke it off with the one girl that could have properly fulfilled it several years ago and haven't been able to restart that fire since.

So, it stings just the tiniest bit, but give it a listen, and let it transport you back to simpler times my friends.......



Thankyou Kevin Smith, and thank YOU Salma.......

Movie Review: Dream A Little Dream (1989)

Not your typical 80's movie, Dream a Little Dream tells the story of Bobby Keller, a classic underachiever and perennial wingman who crosses paths with Coleman Ettinger, the grouchy old man who lives across the street from the high school.

Coleman, a romantic and an academic, has lived a long, happy life with his wife Gena, and realizing that the whole "til death do you part" phase of the marriage is coming up soon, starts experimenting with the subconscious dream state hoping to make it possible for him and Gena to enter the dream state together, and consciously, and thus live forever. Is it weird yet? Yeah, I know. You gotta give it a chance.

They go on with Bobby trudging through his high school existence in love with his best friend's girlfriend and facing a life of assured mediocrity, and Coleman, desperately trying to find a way to stay with his beloved Gena beyond the grave until one night, fate intervenes and puts Coleman, Gena, Bobby, and his love interest Lainie in the same place right in the middle of a crucial point in Coleman's experiment. Somehow, their lives become intertwined: Coleman wakes up in Bobby's body later to find out that Bobby has entered the dream state. Gena, not having been fully committed is partially in the dream state, but he later finds out that part of her consciousness resides in Lainie.

In order to get Gena back and get the reluctant Bobby back into the conscious world, Coleman has to fix Bobby's life.

Corey Feldman does a great job in the lead role as Bobby Keller, and Corey Haim slides slurprisingly well into the role of Bobby's sidekick Dean. Somehow, they got seasoned veteran Jason Robards to play Coleman, Piper Laurie to play Coleman's wife Gena, and underated 80's hottie Merideth Salenger to star as Lainie.

They motley cast, and magic mushroom storyline are complimented by a soundtrack that includes Richard Marx (Rock On) and Mel Torme (Dream a Little Dream of Me). Not what you would normally expect out of a "two Coreys" movie, Dream a Little Dream has pleasantly surprised everyone I've shown it to. Give it a shot....

DREAM A LITTLE DREAM TRAILER

Soapbox's Top 25 80's Movies

Nothing deep or introspective today folks. I came upon an 80's movie website a few weeks ago that has information on over 500 80's movies. It's called fast-rewind.com and it's a lot of fun. Has trivia, links, soundtracks. All kinds of stuff from what was for many of us, a magical era.... Anyways, using this website, I have compiled a list of my top 25 movies from the 1980's. Now mind you skeptics and critics #1 these are my picks. They might be a little different than yours, but rest assured, mine are much more correcter... and #2 There are some movies, namely the Star Wars, Star Trek, and Rocky saga's, that I consider to be timeless and they were not included in my evaluations. From time to time, I will review, and post some fun links to some of these classics.

Here goes:

SOAPBOX'S TOP 25 80's MOVIES

1. 16 Candles
2. Better off Dead
3. Can't Buy Me Love
4. Dream A Little Dream
5. First Blood
6. Lost Boys, The
7. Lucas
8. Rambo: First Blood
9. Risky Business
10. Say Anything
11. Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure
12. Bloodsport
13. Breakfast Club, The
14. Coming to America
15. Fast Times At Ridgemont High
16. Ferris Bueller's Day Off
17. Goonies, The
18. Karate Kid, The
19. Last Dragon, The
20. Outsiders, The
21. Platoon
22. Predator
23. Pretty in Pink
24. Rad
25. Real Genius


Here's a taste. This is the original trailer for numero uno, John Hughes' masterpiece, 16 Candles:

Crashed and burned hitting on the cute girl at the movies...

I almost forgot... So, I've been out of the dating game for sometime now. Probably not much of a stretch for you to imagine considering that I like movies and blog till the wee hours of the morning...


But anyways, as I was saying, I've been sitting on the sidelines for some time now. I got slightly divorced last year, and getting back into the game hasn't been smooth or beautiful... A couple of booty calls, one or two attempted dates and facebook.

Some people make the transition back to single pretty easily. Some people make the transition back to single before they are single. I tested the waters once or twice after the big D, decided I wasn't quite ready yet, and have been on sabbatical ever since... that is.... until I went to the movies.... It was actually that same night that I went to see Inglorious Basterds with my buddy Bert. It was a quite weeknight, and neither of us had anything important going on, and since I let him decide on the movie, I got to choose the theater.

We went to my theater which located at the top of a hill and off the beaten path. It's brand new, but it's not in a high traffic area, so not many people know about it. It's always empty and I love that. This particular night was no exception. It was empty, no lines. We were running a bit late and didn't have time to stop off for food so we had to go through the concession stand (I don't do movies without treats) and that's when I saw her....

She was short, dark haired, curvy, and was some sort of a manager, and thus, of legal age.... I accidently made eye contact with her while heading over to the coke dispenser and she gave me a smile and just sort of stared at me... I sucked in my gut and took my time filling my cup so that she could behold my greatness. When the cup was full, (mine that is) I was surprised to see that she was still looking at me and smiling. I was in a good mood, so I said hello. She asked what movie we were seeing blah blah blah I wasn't paying attention to the rest of it because by then I was trying to check her out while not appearing to check her out. Then she said something that brought me out of the gutter..; "Well, come find me after the show and tell me what you think..."

Having watched The Pickup Artist on VH1, I recognized this as an IOI (indicator of interest)as I walked into the theater... My buddy Bert, was standing there the whole time, saw and heard everything and said "Dude, she was totally checking you out. She wants you man. You have to go talk to her after the show..."

DUH, of course I was going to talk to her after the show... She was pretty obvious and even in my social hybernating state of mind, I could tell she wanted to visit more.

So, the world's longest movie started, I forgot about her and spent the next three hours rolling my eyes in the dark at Tarantino's latest cocaine-inspired brain fart. As the crappy movie ended, and the credits rolled, I made a few whiny comments and quickly remembered the events of the ten minutes before the movie and remembered that I had a mission to accomplish. Unfortunately, I had no game plan, so I figured I'd just say hello on the way out, give her a whiff of my Brute cologne, and just let the seed grow, because it was my theater, and I'd be back anyways. Bert had other plans....

Bert's a "Feely" A feely is a is a guy whose into feelings and empathizes easily with others. Feely's like chick flicks, gossip, and talking about their weight, and they are easily engrossed in the drama of others. Bert is also in a relationship right now, so, being a standup guy, he doesn't hit on girls, but that doesn't stop him from living vicariously through others. As soon as the movie ended, Bert was in my face prepping me for round 2 of the encounter with the movie girl telling me how to be smooth, what to say, etc; all of which sounded nice, but all it really did was make me start thinking about what I was going to say. Some guys work good when they plan things out. When I think things through, I'm a goner. I get nervous, the heart starts pumping and my brain runs a blank.

To make it worse, Bert had to tinkle after the show giving me another two minutes to tense up and build up some impressive flop sweat... We walked out of the can and up to the concession stand, I had to lean over the counter to get her attention (that would be less-than-smooth-move #1) I then decided, I would make an excuse to leave, get to the point (digits) and get out of there. She was visibly excited to see me. You think it would have relieved some of the pressure and diverted some of the blood back to my oxygen-starved brain.... Nope, it got diverted elsewhere...

She asked what I thought about the show and I said something to the effect of "Well, maybe I'll tell you about it sometime. I just need your phone number (flips open phone and leans over counter way too aggressively)"

The smile went from happy excited to talk to cute guy smile to uncomfortable creeped out smile. The hands went up and she immediately said that she had a boyfriend. I was there but not there. My subconscience watched the entire encounter in slow motion horror quietly yelling out "NOOOOOOOOO...!!!!!"

But it was too late. Bert quickly tried to recover for me, made a hasty excuse, and we got the hell out of there. The second we got outside, he said, "Man, that was a disaster. You came on way too strong blah blah blah..." He then went on for the next five minutes critiquing my trainwreck. I think that, since he was, after all, living vicariously through me, that part of him was pissed at me for messing up an easy encounter.

I blamed part of it on him getting me all worked up and nervous, but at the end of the day, it was all me.

You see, I've been rejected hundreds of times. It never phased me before. I was a man on a mission back in the day and getting blown off was part of the game and I didn't care either way, and that was my ace in the whole. When you don't care, you project confidence or its equally useful cousin, indifference. Once you care, once you start to think about it, you're dead in the water.

I knew my first couple of forays into the wild would be a little ugly, but I didn't think it would be this bad. Hopefully it won't be so bad the next time. I'll keep you posted.

So, as a salute to getting thrown off the horse and as a salute to my current love life, I give you "We Don't Have To Take Our Clothes Off", Jermaine Stewart's ode to platonic love...

Inglorious Basterds (2009) v. Monster Squad (1987)

I like movies... I live in an outdoorsey place where people live to hike, mountain-bike, ski, etc. Whenever you ask anyone here what they like to do, whether it's a manly girl in a Subaru, or a fat guy with food stains on his shirt, you will inevitably, at some point in the conversation, hear the phrase "I love the outdoors" Try it...

I think the outdoors are just swell, I can appreciate the occasional hike, and I definitely have no problem going out on a ski boat (ski boats here are like crack cocaine for hot girls with bikini's; they just can't say no), but if you ask me what I like to do in my free time, and the way we spend our free time defines us; I'll tell you that I like to go to the movies. Walking into the cool, dark theater, cargo pockets full of contraband treats, a giant coke in one hand and a sweatshirt in the other (you never know if it'll be chilly in there) and I am a happy camper. I don't need parties. I hate clubs. Just give me a good movie and a buddy, and life, for those two hours, is just about perfect.

So last week, on my day off, my buddy Bert calls me up to see if I want to go to a show, I, of course, say yes, and then for some reason, let him talk me into seeing Tarantino's new flick Inglorious Basterds. Unlike everybody from California and most self conscious people, who I secretly believe are lying about it, I'm not a Tarantino fan. I think he tries too hard. The quirky 60's-music soundtracks, the trendy stars, the word-smithing, it just get's old after a while.... This one was no exception.

Most guys like Red Dawn, and whether we admit it or not, think it would be cool to be invaded by the Russians and have to live in the mountains and fight back as guerilla warriors. Most girls love Jane Austin and would love to be Elizabeth Bennett falling in love with Mr. Darcy and dancing to chamber music. I think Basterds is some sort of Jewish WWII fantasy where a team of mostly American jews takes revenge on the Nazi's slaughtering them left and right and sowing fear throughout the Reich, and eventually, taking out Hitler in a bloody gun battle. It's not a bad fantasy either my jewish friends... Got no problem with the concept. I love the Hebrew and love the idea of him giving back to the filthy Hun hoards.

What I didn't need was three hours of dragged out scenes, three hours of Brad Pitt putting on some accent that was neither funny nor realistic, and slow closeup scalp scenes. Q could have shortened the ultra long parts, made Pitt talk normal, sped up the scalping, kept his weird soundtrack and unlikely storyline and walked away with a decent picture. It was downright painful to watch...


Quentin should take a cue from Monster Squad... That's right, Monster Squad. A short, funny 80's movie starring mostly unknowns about a group of kids that take on Dracula's gang as they try to take over the world. No attempt whatsoever is made to bring any authenticity to the storyline or the setting. Dracula, Frankenstein's monster, and the wolfman are campy, cliche, and predictable. The soundtrack is cheesy at best, the acting is subpar, and it's politically incorrect enough to make a college humanities professor weep, but it's a great movie.

It doesn't try to be anything but fun. There are good guys, bad guys, a tough guy, a fat kid (who they actually call Fat Kid) a pretty girl, and all kinds of bathroom humor jokes that will have you rolling in your seat because they are the same kind of jokes that we told when we were kids.

Contrary to popular belief, there is such a thing as too much violence, too much language, too much skin, especially when it becomes a scene, or a film's only selling point. Slow graphic scenes of men being scalped is like cinematic peacocking... You're trying to hard man..! I'm not saying don't scalp nazi's and don't kill Hitler. That stuff is cool. I'm just saying tone it down a little. We'll still get the picture.

Anyways, to all of my zero followers, here's a little Monster Squad courtesy of youtube...

Park Freaks

Got home from work around 8:30 am. Yeah, I work nights. Long story, but the the short version would be that it's the result of a whole myriad of bad decisions and bad luck. That's a story for another day. Anyways, I got home from work around 8:30 am hell bent on getting in a good solid run so that I could meet my weigh in goal for the end of the month. Yeah, weigh-in goals are either chick goals or professional fighter goals, but I work nights and need something to pretend to look forward too. I'd planned on eating a light snack, taking a short break, then hitting the track. The light snack turned out to be McDonald's sausage biscuits, a bag of Pepperidge Farm Distinctive Milano Double Chocolate cookies, and a whole bunch of milk. The short break turned out to be four hours of youtube and ABC Family episodes on my computer because I couldn't get Hulu to pull up. After I felt good and rested, I headed to the my favorite park for a short run. Generally, it's one of my favorite workout parks of all time. It's usually empty during the day, the weather is perfect, the run trail is in a circle, it's hilly, and it measures out to a little over a mile. It's the kind of place where I can take off my shirt, put on my headphones, and sweat it out because the only people that are there are moms, hippies and blind old people. So I started running (mind you, I use the term run rather loosely) and within a few minutes, I'm lost in my run and baseball music. When you're hot, and in pain, your mind's gotta go somewhere. Today it went to Yankee Stadium where I was the star rookie hitting against that Lincecum guy, that pitches for San Fransisco, in the World Series. The World Series came to an abrupt halt; however, as I realized that my 64 ounces of Lime Diet Pepsi were kicking in (I didn't count it in my earlier snack breakdown because lime-flavored Diet Pepsi is my lifeblood) and I was wearing those megatight Underarmor drawers that keep me from chaffing so when I started to feel it, it came on pretty quick and intense. Being a classy park, about a mile into the run, there is a well-appointed public restroom that I use from time to time, so I knew I was ok. As I got to the little building though, I noticed that I wasn't the only one headed in. Not that big a deal, except that this guy wasn't dressed in park attire, AND he was looking at me. Every guy knows that one of the unbreakable men's room rules is that you never make eye contact with another man in the restroom. This rule extends to about thirty feet before the door, and yet this guy was looking at me. Nature didn't give a damn though, and so I went in anyways. Luckily, the weirdo obeyed the urinal rule and used one of the side urinals leaving the requisite one urinal space in between us. Slightly releaved, I took care of business. As I was taking care of business, and starting to think about hitting one out of center field again, I noticed, on the wall at my urinal, an advertisement. Public stall walls are kind of like a gay craigslist, and this was no exception. I can't remember the services offered, but I know it gave me the creeps, so I hurried and got out of there lest I get all Sea Bass'd.... Walking outside, shaking off the willey's, I was almost run over by a park maintenance worker who didn't seem to be in a good mood. I would have shrugged this off, but this park worker had an odd look about him just like the other guy. Kind of a Will and Grace vibe. For a minute there, I wondered if maybe I hadn't interupted someones "meet-cute". Put together the first guy's puzzled look, the personal ad on the wall, and the unhappy park worker and I just might have a point.... Whatever... It's amazing how good sports entry music can transport you to to another world. I was listening to Candy by Cameo and soon I was back in the Bronx.