What's wrong with my shoes?

Why are my fucking socks blue?

What's wrong with me?

I was at the Beverly Center today and I stopped in some store to check out the Chuck Taylors. Right now I'm basically living on Top Ramen and BERRY COLOSSAL CRUNCH cereal--did you know you can squeeze ten whole meals out of a single three dollar bag? You do now!--and I definitely don't have money to waste on stupid shoes.

I found a Smurf-blue pair I really liked...but again, there's the money thing. Namely the fact that I don't have any. So I reluctantly put the shoes back on the shelf...and that's when I saw the sign.

FREE SLURPEE FROM 7-11 WITH EVERY SHOE PURCHASE

We're not talking jumbo-sized, either. This is the regular 99 cent Slurpee. The lil' guy.

And yet somehow my brain managed to convince the parts of my body that control reaching for wallets that A) not only was this a major bargain, but B) with a deal like this, I would be a big stupid asshole NOT to buy the shoes.

So. Slurpee time.

There's something very wrong with me.

And one day I shall make that gorilla my bride.

Here's why I have the greatest job in the world.

In my new spec, there's a chase sequence that takes place in Griffith Park, and the rotten thing just...wasn't...working.

At the risk of stating the obvious, there are really only three ways to end an action scene: a great gag, a character beat, or something that's just plain badass. We can all agree on that much, right? Well, my scene didn't have any of those things. It just ...ended.

Hmm. So instead of having the chase conclude on the streets surrounding the park...what if it spills into the Los Angeles Zoo instead? Okay, that's a little better.

And what if the climax somehow involved monkeys? We're definitely getting warmer.

And what if we included a monkey-rape joke?

Mr. Hammond, I think we're back in business.

Except I had no idea if there was any conceivable way to move the action inside the zoo. So I decided to do some location scouting. Which is a roundabout way of saying I hung out with a bunch of cool animals today and it was all tax-deductible. How great is my life?

Considering the heat, I was surprised how many animals were out and about. I watched a demented otter perform at least 20 consecutive backflips off the side of his tank. I had a staring contest with the world's laziest meerkat. I saw what has to be the biggest orangutan on the planet--seriously, he looked exactly like Ludo from LABYRINTH--fling himself onto some dangerously thin mesh webbing directly above the heads of a bunch of tourists, a gesture which can only be interpreted as this monkey wants all of you fucking dead.

But the greatest part of my day was hanging out with Rapunzel the gorilla.

I'll be blunt: this gorilla LOVED me. The way bees love honey and babies love tit. We're talking full-fledged King Kong obsession here. There were at least 20 other people on the observation deck with me, but my gal Rapunzel only had eyes for me.

First she would clap her hands, then I would clap mine. Next she would blow a kiss, and I'd blow one right back. She would pat her head, I'd pat mine. Fart noises? I'll see your fart and raise you a raspberry.

But here's what was great: every time I mimicked one of her actions, she would throw her head back and hoot laughter. The more I copied her, the more she laughed. Pounding her hands against the ground, rolling back and forth on her haunches, gasping for breath.

I can't explain how weirdly gratifying it feels to make an animal laugh. I can't even begin to try. But I know it made my day.

You rock, Rapunzel.

Flicks of Shame

The new site from Dan Whitehead, better known as the guy who was actually funny on How to Write Screenplays Badly.

Check it out here.

More depressing news.

Still don't believe me that the horror genre is deeply and hopelessly fucked? Now the latest casualty is Michael Dougherty's TRICK 'R TREAT, which is by all accounts a really fun little movie. And it's getting unceremoniously dumped by the studio.

It's depressing that we may never see this flick on the big screen where it belongs...but after THE RUINS' weak opening, it's hard to argue with the studio's logic. There's just no market for R-rated horror right now.

And that sucks.

THE RUINS

...is one hell of a horror flick. Visceral, smart and nicely disgusting. Well done, guys.

It deserves your money this weekend, and not just because it's loads of fun. Go see it because the horror genre is in trouble.

If you look at the upcoming slates, there aren't many horror films on the horizon. And judging by anecdotal conversations with studio execs and other writers, it feels like there aren't many in development either. There have just been too many SAW wannabes and J-horror remakes that have underperformed at the box office; it feels like everybody is holding off on greenlighting new projects until the next big thing comes along.

The worst case scenario will be if THE RUINS flops and that abysmal-looking PROM NIGHT remake succeeds. Because then we're looking at a slate of bloodless PG-13 remakes. And nobody wants that. Except for 13 year old girls, I suppose. And fuck them.

So if you give a damn about horror, speak with your wallet this weekend.

Nintendumb.

I have an embarrassingly bad memory. I forget faces, and I'm even worse with names. I routinely get lost driving to places I've visited dozens of times. My apartment is littered with the kind of notes you'd give an autistic kid trying to live on his own for the first time: BUY CAT FOOD. PAY TRAFFIC TICKET. MAIL TAX RETURNS. It's like the first act of MEMENTO if Leonard was lazy and dumb instead of brain-damaged.

Anyway, last weekend I finally hooked my Wii up to the internet and downloaded a few old NES and Super Nintendo games. Mario 3, A Link to the Past, Super Metroid, that sort of thing. And these are games that I literally haven't played in, what, 15 years? Maybe longer?

And I remembered EVERY. DAMN. THING.

I'm not talking about "Oh, hey, it's that lava level. I remember this." I'm talking about knowing there's an invisible note block hidden right there that will catapult me to the clouds, where I can collect a bunch of goddamn gold coins. Or bombing the base of a certain Chozo pedestal to reveal a secret passage. Or instantly knowing the attack patterns of every single boss.

I couldn't draw you a map of the neighborhood where I currently live, but yet somehow I remember the exact path through the Lost Woods in Zelda. We're talking about a complicated, purposely confusing maze that I last played in 1992, for chrissake, and I could have navigated that bitch blindfolded.

Meanwhile, ask me what my previous phone number was. Or my jersey number from high school football. Or any of the streets I grew up on. I probably wouldn't be able to name all the pets I've ever owned, but I bet I could rattle off those fucking Koopa Kids.

So basically, either I'm legitimately brain-damaged...or the most significant events in my life have all been Nintendo-related.

Frankly, I don't know which would be worse.