What is the Pro Bowl? It's the NFL's attempt at an all-star game. Now most professional sports hold their all-star games at the mid-point of their seasons, when people are still paying attention to their sports. The NFL traditionally plays the Pro Bowl the week after the Super Bowl, rendering it completely irrelevant and almost universally ignored. I don't even know any NFL fans who actually watch the game. Mostly it's an excuse for all the players to take a trip to Hawaii.

Except this year the game will be played in Miami, the host city of the Super Bowl, the first time in 30 years it's been played outside of the Aloha State. They've also moved the game to the week before the Super Bowl, making it today. Already it's garnered more attention than any Pro Bowl ever.

But Prince still shouldn't watch it. I know. He was planning to watch it. He's printed up his Pro Bowl Party invitations and made a "Go NFC" T-shirt for Pork Chop to wear and everything, but I keep telling him it's a waste of time. Pro football is an intense physical game that's really only worth watching when something is at stake, when you can watch the best players in the world pushing themselves to the limits of their physical abilities and beyond. No one will do that in the Pro Bowl. No one's watching. Nothing's at stake. No player is going to risk a career-ending injury in a meaningless PR stunt of a game.

So don't bother, Prince. I know you're heartbroken, but you still might be able to return the Pro Bowl paper party plates as long as you haven't opened them yet.

[Alan Goy also blogs at Experiment Farm.]

Photo by Aaron Lee Fineman
(click to enlarge)

I don't know how many of you have toy collections, but I am proud to say that I have a nice little collection that I am growing. However, I had to put that collection away when my son was born.

In any case, earlier this month a couple of my photographs were published in the Encyclopedia of Toys and American Culture, written by Sharon Scott and published by Greeenwood Press. While this photograph of Sir Sean Connery's head from Anthony Bo Chan's collection did not make it into the final edit of the book, I wanted to share it with y'all. Because, let's face it, while most of us have (or at least seen) a decapitated Barbie before, I don't think too many people have done that to 007.

[For more work by Aaron Lee Fineman, visit www.aaronleefineman.com.]

Hey! They just closed escrow on the house next door: Meet your new neighbor!



Got meth?

[Louise Larsen also blogs at Louise on the Left.]

A good friend of mine sent me this clip that details how to be a proper ass-wipe in broadcast journalism. So, thanks to Pedro, from the Orange County Register for passing along the handy tutorial, "How to Report the News," for those of us considering a career switch from Blog Jockey to Broadcast Journalism any time soon. Watch:



[Louise Larsen also blogs at Louise on the Left.]

Does the following trailer for a real movie (not a parody!) titled Julie and Jack make you want to see the film? Or does it make you want to slit your wrists using the edges of Enya and Yanni CDs? If you make it to the "Special Appearance" credit and don't spit out your drink in judgmental exasperation, then you're a better person than I. Watch:

After a court ruled that he could keep his 10-month-old lion cub in his house, a Polish man expresses his joy with hugs and kisses. This is cute and all, but I just hope that lion never gets really hungry. Watch:

Some nights ago, Gabriel had a dream and I was in it. He explains in an e-mail to me (reprinted here with his permission):

You told me that you had some exciting news. You had just run into Arnold Sevrant Lee—a celebrity I didn't know, but who you explained was in Spike Lee's early films (because he was Spike's cousin) and was now known for playing an Urkel-type character in sitcoms. You knew him from some theater blah-blah years ago. As you're telling me this, I'm noticing your hair, how it's grown out a bit into kind of a 'fro, and then I realize that you're black and I'm looking at you, talking and thinking, "Why didn't I ever notice Prince was black before?" You're excited because this guy Arnold has told you about a position in a large theater company in Denver. They're seeking an Executive Director, and you think you'll get the job. I'm like, "That's great: Artistic Director." And you say, "No: Executive Director." And I'm like, "Wait. Are you even qualified for that job? Don't you need an MBA or something?"

Okay, dream-interpretation experts, have at it!

I'm not sure what's funnier—this baby doing magician-like hand gestures and odd facial expressions or the Japanese people laughing at him. Watch:



[Thanks to Brent.]

While driving to USC on Wednesday afternoon to moderate a panel discussion featuring Hollywood script readers, I realized that I had made a major fashion faux pas before leaving the house and that it was too late to go back home to correct it. I was wearing my fabulous brown Ben Sherman shoes and matching brown socks—but I had accidentally put on a black belt! What the hell was I thinking?! That's a basic fashion no-no that someone like me should know instinctively straight out of the womb.

I thought to myself, "I now know what it feels like to be a straight guy." The difference is, of course, straight guys are blissfully unaware of their fashion naivete, so they never would've gotten as panicked as I did, cursing at myself in rush-hour traffic.

Shortly before I had to show up at the venue, I pulled into the shopping center across from the USC campus. I rushed through the complex, looking for a men's clothing store. No such luck. I blew into a women's shop and asked the woman at the counter, "Do you have anything—anything—that looks like a men's belt?" She pointed at a rack chock full of fake diamond-studded atrocities. "There's no way I could pull that off," I thought and got back into my car.

On my phone, I searched for stores that might've carried men's belts. Nothing nearby. Damn. I decided to drive and drive.

After a few miles of wandering the city, I spotted a sign for a fashion outlet. I wasn't sure what that meant, really, but I went inside anyway, only to find a rack full of men's belts that were all black.

Next door there was a Rite Aid, and I remembered seeing belts at a Walgreen's once. Not an obvious choice, but, hey, they had 'em. So I went into the Rite Aid and found a bunch of made-in-China $2.99 belts. There were a lot of brown ones.

And here I encountered the greatest dilemma I have faced all year. Was it better to wear a cheap $2.99 brown belt (that was probably assembled by asthmatic Asian children) to go along with my fancy brown shoes? Or was it better to wear a classy, elegant, expensive black belt to go along with my fancy brown shoes?

In the end, I waltzed onto the USC campus with the brown belt. As Billy Crystal's SNL character, Fernando, used to say, "It is better to look good than to feel good."

Right? Right?!

(By the way, the panelists were insightful and engaging, and the event was packed. I think the Los Angeles Times highlighted it somewhere, so we had plenty of non-MPW students show up too. Ah, yes, expanding the empire—one fashionable event at a time.)

The following video is only six seconds long, but that's all the time you really need to laugh at a weatherman falling down on camera. Watch:



(I think this video is staged, but falling down is falling down.)

All right, this prize is freaking exciting, so cross your fingers or say your prayers or make your deals with the devil or do whatever it is that you have to do. I love Entertainment Weekly, and now here's your chance to love it too.

THE PRIZE: A 27-issue subscription to Entertainment Weekly. "America's most exciting weekly entertainment magazine. Stay on top of what's hot (and what's not!) in movies, videos, books, and more from Entertainment Weekly—winner of the National Magazine Award."

THE RULES: Leave a comment—any comment—by Sunday, February 7, 2010, 11:59 p.m. If you don't have an ID you can sign in with, you can comment anonymously and leave your name or your initials; when I announce the winner, you'll know if you won and all you have to do is e-mail me to claim your prize. One winner will be chosen at random. Residents of the United States may enter, even those people who have won before. (Sorry, Romanians!)

What if 24 took place in 1994, when today's technology was still in its infancy? This is some pretty funny stuff, and it gives me flashbacks to a time before I had e-mail. Watch:



[Thanks to Superbadfriend.]

By that title alone, you've probably guessed that we're now returning to the hilariously bizarre world of Japanese television. In the following segment, a variety of animals are unleashed to navigate through a maze. The gimmick? The maze is bordered by dominoes, and the animals must reach the finish line without knocking over any of those dominoes. Who will win? The turkey? The anteater? The tortoise? The armadillo? Place your bets! Watch:

I thought the repeated double entendres in this racy Axe ad would get real old real fast, but the following clip actually gets funnier and more absurd as it goes along. But, hey, what's with the black guy having the big...well...see for yourself. Watch:



[Thanks to Patty Hose.]

This French public service announcement for safe sex is chock full of animated vaginas on the walls of a public restroom. And one cock. Safe-sex message aside, I think what happens in this ad is an apt metaphor for what all my straight male friends are going through—chasing runaway vaginas. What a life. Watch:



[Thanks to The Bilerico Project.]

When I was asked to organize and moderate a panel at USC, I decided to gather a handful of Hollywood script readers—you know, the gatekeepers of the entire freaking industry—so that they can yell at you. Okay, they're not really going to yell at you, but wouldn't it be exciting if they did? I mean, academic panel discussions tend to be so intellectual and polite that I sometimes want to stand up and scream, "This is an outrage!," just to incite fistfights.

Anyway, if you're in the Los Angeles area this Wednesday and interested in screenwriting, then come on down to USC. The event is free, though parking in one of the campus lots is eight bucks. (Even I have had to pay for parking every time I go out there, so deal.)

The deets:

Hollywood Script Readers Reveal Tips of the Trade
A USC/MPW Panel Discussion Moderated by Prince Gomolvilas

Whether your screenplay ends up being read at a studio, production company, or talent agency, it's likely that the first gatekeeper you must impress is a Hollywood script reader. A reader's script coverage—which concludes with a "Recommend," "Consider," or "Pass"—often determines whether or not your screenplay will move on to the next level. How can screenwriters make a good first impression? What do readers look for most when evaluating screenplays? What are all the things readers have to take into consideration beyond the writing itself? The guests on this panel will dispense insider advice, talk about how coverage is written, share how they landed their positions as script readers, and speak about the state of the marketplace.

Featuring:

• Christopher Morrison, script consultant at GMI (Death Race, Bottle Shock, Open Water)
• Jiwon Park, creative executive at CJ Entertainment America (My Sassy Girl, August Rush)
• Elizabeth Passarelli, script consultant at Red Om Films (Kit Kittredge, Mona Lisa Smile, Maid in Manhattan)
• Noah Pohl, former script reader at Paramount Vantage and Bold Films (Legion, Bobby)

Wednesday, January 27, 2010
7:00 p.m.

University of Southern California
Doheny Memorial Library, Intellectual Commons
3501 Trousdale Parkway
Los Angeles CA 90007

Free and open to the public

RSVP to mpw@college.usc.edu
USC directions and campus maps
Visit the Master of Professional Writing Program website

The woman in the red dress is drunk out of her freaking mind. And when you're drunk out of your freaking mind, you shouldn't pole dance on a pole that's holding up a wedding tent. Watch:

One of the most memorable and enjoyable Halloweens I ever spent happened when I was in college, but not for the reasons you might expect. Halloween that year was on a Tuesday, and I had a lot of class work to get done. Among my list of assignments was to read the book, The Werewolf of Paris, by Guy Endore. I was taking a class on monsters in literature, and we’d already read Dracula and Frankenstein. It was time to move on to the werewolf genre.

I lit a fire (yes, we had a fireplace in the townhouse I lived in my senior year) and read the entire book in one swallow. True, it’s not a long book, but for a slow reader like myself that’s still a major accomplishment.

Set in 1870s Europe against the backdrop of the Franco-Prussian War and the failed Paris Commune, the novel brilliantly turns lycanthropy into a metaphor for the struggle to maintain one’s humanity when surrounded by the inhumanity of war. But of course it’s also about sex. Twisted, sadomasochistic and yet deeply sensual, and somehow still mostly implied but starkly frank sex.

That is of course why Prince should read it. Because of its war themes. He likes war movies.

The novel reads like it could be contemporary with either Stoker’s and Shelley’s classics or with Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles. Instead, it was written in the 1930s by Guy Endore, a mildly successful screenwriter who would garner an Oscar nomination for writing The Story of G.I. Joe and then later be blacklisted for being a communist. (Don’t ask me how that works.)

Curiously, in spite of being highly renowned as one of the greatest werewolf novels of the twentieth century, it’s been largely out of print since the author’s death in 1970, save for a small reprinting in 1992 which afforded my professor the opportunity to make it required reading.

Centipede Press is due to release an expensive hardcover edition this summer, complete with a laundry list of extras including the screenplay of the first film adaptation. You can pre-order it either from Amazon or the publisher. In the meantime, it can be purchased for the Kindle.

Then, after I finished the book, I met up with my roommates and shoe-horned myself into a bar in Georgetown just before the fire marshal told them they couldn’t let any more people in. Ah…good times.

[Alan Goy also blogs at Experiment Farm.]

Photo by Aaron Lee Fineman
(click to enlarge)

With all this talk of people becoming depressed after seeing Avatar, I thought that I would share some artistic virtual reality from an exhibit by Yoshitomo Nara. Perhaps more people should go to art galleries and museums, or perhaps people simply need to stop believing that everything they see in the on TV and movies is real.

[For more work by Aaron Lee Fineman, visit www.aaronleefineman.com.]

Oh my freaking god, did you see Conan O'Brien's final goodbye on The Tonight Show last night? He got choked up while sincerely expressing his gratitude towards...NBC! After all, it is where he's spent most of his professional career (first as a writer on Saturday Night Live, then as host of Late Night). He then made a moving plea: "Please do not be cynical. I hate cynicism. It's my least favorite quality, and it doesn't lead anywhere." It was hard for me not to get a bit choked up myself—and I never really watched Conan. What a classy farewell. What a classy guy. Watch:



(Actually, if NBC pulls this clip (for some reason, it's not available on NBC's official site), you can probably see it here.)

A few weeks ago, I was on the set of Donovan and the Vast Ancient Conspiracy, a six-episode postmodern adventure series written and directed by Gabriel Fleming (The Lost Coast) and starring Donovan Keith. I have a small role in Episode Five (another IMDb credit!), and I decided to break out my flip cam to capture some behind-the-scenes footage, which includes a very brief but very special cameo by Pork Chop. While I didn't always know where to point the camera, especially when I supposed to be speaking into it, I hope you enjoy my little documentary anyway! Watch:


["Donovan and the Vast Ancient Conspiracy": Behind the Scenes on YouTube.]

By the way, the film that I mention in the video, Laundromat, can be seen for free online by going here.

I don't remember if I left my apartment today. I don't think I did.

What was the world like on the outside? Did anything happen? If I had died, would anyone have noticed? Or would I have been left here to rot, as Pork Chop contemplated eating me?

I'm not sure if the following news clip is from the same Taiwanese program that summarized the recent Tiger Woods story with animated gusto, but it's clear that the whole Jay Leno/Conan O'Brien kerfuffle makes more sense when it's a cartoon...and in Chinese. Watch:

I knew I couldn't go to a matinee showing of The Princess and the Frog by myself without seeming like I was either developmentally disabled or a candy-offering pervert, so I recruited my mother to be my movie-going companion a few weeks ago. While I would certainly revel in the hand-drawn Disney animation and the handful of Randy Newman songs (his 1988 album, Land of Dreams, is one of my all time favorites, and his score for 1990's Avalon is exquisite), I knew my mom would dig the story of a black princess with a simple dream of opening up her own restaurant in 1920s New Orleans. My mother, if you recall, has been waiting tables all her life and currently manages a small cafe on the lot of a car dealership. (And, by the way, her food-service career is all my fault—she had to drop out of school when she was pregnant with me, I am reminded time and time again. Asian Mother Guilt—you gotta love it.)

Tickled to the point embarrassment by my desire to see The Princess and the Frog, my mom spent most of the afternoon speaking to me in baby talk. "Son, do you have to go to the bathroom before the movie starts?" "Son, do you need a napkin to wipe your mouth after eating your popcorn?" "Son, do you like it when mommy takes you to the movies?"

Anyway, The Princess and the Frog (perhaps a corrective measure to Disney's controversial—racist?—Song of the South, which has never been released on video or DVD due to said controversy) is a lot of fun, features great voice work by Dreamgirls' Anika Noni Rose (who wowed me when she was doing theater in San Francisco years ago, particularly in Athol Fugard's Valley Song), and a Dixieland-inspired collection of terrific songs by Randy Newman.

Listen to "Down in New Orleans," performed with verve by the one-and-only Dr. John, after a prologue by Rose:



By the way, I'm not naive to the fact that things like race relations and segregation are kind of swept under the rug in The Princess and the Frog, but, c'mon, people, it's a kids' movie.... At least that's what my mommy tells me.

An Oregon woman took pictures of her cat, who has a very special relationship with a deer that visits every morning. (That's a deer, right?!) I think they're just friends, but I wouldn't be surprised if "benefits" were involved.











[Thanks to Superbadfriend.]

So apparently Coca-Cola is setting up very special vending machines at secret locations. The first stop is a college campus, where students are treated to all sorts of goodies through the little slot. Now if I saw man hands pop out of a vending machine like that, my first instinct would be to scream in terror; my second instinct would be to unzip my pants and make the man hands cup me. You? Watch:



[Thanks to Aaron Lee Fineman.]

Oh, cute kitties, children's slides are fun, but you're going the wrong way! Watch:

Regular Bamboo Nation readers know that 24 is my favorite TV show of all time. In fact, I love it so much that, if I had to choose to eliminate either 24 or the complete works of Shakespeare from world history, then I would without hesitation declare, "Let those Shakespeare folios burn!"

However, I don't saturate this blog with 24 discussion as much as I want to because I don't think more than five people who read Bamboo Nation also watch 24 as passionately I. Or do you? Are you out there? Do you obsessively scroll through 24 discussion boards after each episode and deconstruct every plot twist while fingering the tape around your glasses? Do you have a regular rambunctious screen-yelling group gather at your house every week for some Jack Bauer ass-kickin' and pizza? Did you see the Season Eight premiere? Are there more than five of you?! Come out, so I can write about it all the time!

I've been following the whole Jay Leno/Conan O'Brien kerfuffle with particular relish because, damn, it's juicy. Much to my surprise (and delight?), I came across video footage of Leno talking about graciously passing The Tonight Show torch to O'Brien, saying, "Conan, it's yours." This was five years ago. My, my how things have changed, haven't they? Watch:

After randomly selecting an entry out of raggedy Staples bag, I have picked the winner of Bamboo Nation's latest contest. The winner is...Erica Lynn! She apparently does some blogging herself from time to time, and she's going to be able to curl up with good book that will perhaps inspire her to blog even more. Erica Lynn, e-mail me your mailing address to receive your prize. Congratulations!

Thanks for entering, everyone! More thrilling contests to come!

Photo by Aaron Lee Fineman
(click to enlarge)

[For more work by Aaron Lee Fineman, visit www.aaronleefineman.com.]

Just because I'm an Orange County mom who gets nervous about some people from some countries viewing her blog and just because Prince tricked me into calling Romania a "shithole" does not mean I'm xenophobic! (All the time.) Watch:



Zordon is a racist.

[Louise Larsen also blogs at Louise on the Left.]

The following video clip has more than one or two bright spots in it. The first entertainment gem is fairly obvious and comes early on in the clip, but you have to stay tuned 'til about 1:15 when Wendy has a production challenge of her own. Peter Pan's impromptu "happy dance" is worth noting as well.



Now, this is the kind of children's theater I could see time and again. (As long as my kids aren't in it.)

[Louise Larsen also blogs at Louise on the Left.]

ABC's One Life to Live recently unveiled what is purportedly this country's first gay sex scene on daytime television, and Middle America was treated to what looks like a softcore karaoke video, complete with scented (I assume) candles, an unintentionally funny shot of man hands as a shirt comes off, and the two lovers basking in a fireworks afterglow. Watch:



[Thanks to The Bilerico Project.]

Security cameras outside a hotel in Wenzhou, China, captured a heroic bicyclist in action. Watch:

I was so intrigued by an e-mail I got that I'm going to post it here:

I perform gender-deviant/multimedia/spoken word homo-hop under the name Athens Boys Choir, and this is a video for one of my songs called "EZ Heeb." "EZ Heeb" is a mix-tape, roller-skate fantasy date, directed by go-to queer music video director Ali Cotterill.

All right, so I viewed the video, and I don't really get it, though it is strangely watchable, especially the hotel-worker bed dance in the middle. Help me out, Jews! Is there anything to "get" here? Watch:

I just got word from Smart Like a Truck that Bamboo Nation's commenting feature hasn't been working properly for everybody ever since the new blog redesign, so you may have been unable to enter this morning's contest or to leave comments about any number of things that demand commenting. I think I figured out a temporary fix, so could you please try commenting again to see if it works now? Thanks.

Loren bought me Dagoba hot chocolate, a fancy (borderline pretentious) drink mix that is Fair Trade Certified and that declares "Dagoba is dedicated to The Art of Chocolate Alchemy: transforming exceptional cacao into edible gold." All right, it's a bit over the top, but I'm fine with it.

The directions, however, enter the realm of the absurd: "We recommend slowly heating one cup of milk or milk alternative on the stove top while stirring continually until hot. When vapors rise, the milk will be at its most receptive to accept chocolate into its embrace."

Uh...what?!

Hey, I think drinking hot chocolate is sensual as much as the next guy, but I don't like the image of my chocolate powder making sweet love to my milk and leaving stray love juices in my drink.

Anyway, Dagoba hot chocolate is very good and very chocolatey, and I have decided that the company should send me free products so I can review them here while making fun of the text on their packaging. How about it, Dagoba?!

(I swear, I think the only reason Loren bought me this in the first place is because the name of the product reminds him of Dagobah, that Star Wars planet. Dork.)

For someone who refuses to champion books because he's too busy making Zac Efron photo collages, I sure do give away a lot of books, don't I? Well, you'd better savor these literary prizes because no one's getting any of my collages.

THE PRIZE: A brand-new copy of The Underneath by Kathi Appelt, with drawings by David Small. "One kitten's one moment of curiosity sets off a chain of events that is astonishing, remarkable, and enormous in its meaning. For everyone who loves Sounder, Shiloh, and The Yearling, for everyone who loves the haunting beauty of writers such as Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings, Flannery O'Connor, and Carson McCullers, Kathi Appelt spins a harrowing yet keenly sweet tale about the power of love—and its opposite, hate—the fragility of happiness and the importance of making good on your promises." National Book Award Finalist; ALA Newbery Honor Book; PEN Center USA Literary Award for Children's Literature.

THE RULES: Leave a comment—any comment—by Friday, January 15, 2010, 11:59 p.m. If you don't have an ID you can sign in with, you can comment anonymously and leave your name or your initials; when I announce the winner, you'll know if you won and all you have to do is e-mail me to claim your prize. One winner will be chosen at random. Anyone in the world can enter, even those people who have won before.

I don't know how audacious comedian Ricky Gervais keeps ending up on Sesame Street, but here he is again, bantering with Elmo and strumming a lullaby that's not as soothing as it should be. Watch:

Adam Gwon's new musical, Ordinary Days, is so damn good that it makes me want to touch myself (as all good things should). I went to opening night at South Coast Repertory in Costa Mesa, California, this past Saturday, and being in Yes-on-8 country didn't even phase me one bit—before the show, I boldly walked through the mall giving people looks like I wanted to spit on them. (Just kidding, Orange County—you know I love you.)

Ordinary Days is a small-scale, four-actor musical in the vein of Jonathan Larson's small-scale, three-actor Tick, Tick...Boom!, which I loved. (Um, hello!, Joey McIntyre in the lead, and he touched my shoulder afterward! Shut up!)

I was resistant to Days at first, thinking, "Oh my god, if I have to watch whiny New York artists sing about their problems for 90 minutes, I'm going to punch myself in the stomach." I'll only watch whiny New York artists sing about their problems if it's Rent or the aforementioned Tick, Tick...Boom! (I am a preteen girl—so what?! Shut up!) I was also thinking, "And if they start 'talk-singing' because composers these days love love love Sondheim, I'm going to punch my theater companion, Louise, in the stomach."

But you know what? The songs are great—catchy music, clever lyrics. The actors do do some of that 'talk-singing' (do you know what I'm talking about?!), but I didn't mind it because Gwon also has a terrific ear for melody. You get the feeling he listens to pop songs too. I mean, don't you sometimes wonder if theater composers listen to anything other than Sondheim CDs? Jesus Christ, that's why people cream their pants over things like the Green Day musical. Pop music is fun.



You know what else? The New Yorkers in this show have problems, sure, but I wanted to listen. You know why? Gwon's worldview is so heartfelt and refreshingly uncynical (snark needs a break, after all) that you want to root for these characters. The show features parallel plotlines involving one guy pining to make his girlfriend his wife and another guy pining to make a stranger his f@g hag. I never really thought you had to court f@g hags, like it was something you had to do on the level of romance, but, hey, things are tough in New York.

And you know what else? Jesus Christ, the guys in it are hot. And they can sing like it's nobody's business. (So can the women, but you'll have to go to another blog to hear about their hotness.)

I heard through the grapevine that one of the actors, who also has a singing career, has a significant cougar following, (well, he posts shirtless shots of himself on his website, so it was inevitable, I guess), and I realized how great it must be to be able to say, "I have a significant cougar following." I don't know what his aspirations are, but he doesn't need to have any. He has arrived.

As Louise and I left the theater, I did ask her if the women characters sometimes came across as a bit shrewish to her. They did, and we speculated as to why that was so. My guess? When you put that much guy hotness on stage, it creates a shift in the space-time continuum and it distorts all women who get caught in its crossfire.

Oh, look, cheap bastards, Pay Your Age Nights!

###

Ordinary Days by Adam Gwon runs through January 24, 2010, at South Coast Repertory in Costa Mesa, California.

###

By the way, I've been to a bunch of shows over the last few months, but I somehow didn't get around to blogging about them and I probably never will. (Oh, the demands of celebrity!) But it occurred to me that I should probably log them here for personal future reference:

• And God Created Great Whales by Rinde Eckert, University of Southern California, Los Angeles, California
• August: Osage County by Tracy Letts, Ahmanson Theatre, Los Angeles, California
• The Conquest of the South Pole by Manfred Karge, The Smith and Martin Company, Los Angeles, California
• F*cking Men by Joe DiPietro, Celebration Theatre, Los Angeles, California
• Grace Kim and the Spiders From Mars by Philip W. Chung, Lodestone Theatre Ensemble, Burbank, California
• Po Boy Tango by Kenneth Lin, East West Players, Los Angeles, California
• Songs for a New World by Jason Robert Brown, Yes and...Productions, Los Angeles, California
• Stop Kiss by Diana Son, Rogue Machine, Los Angeles, California
• Tree by Julie Herbert, Ensemble Studio Theatre, Los Angeles, California

This can be seen as an incredibly cruel prank, but, man, oh, man, is it hilarious. An Asian-American teenager (?) gets busted after his sister tells their parents about the 12-pack of beer that he's hiding in his room. He decides to get his revenge by posting his sister's "hook-up list" on Facebook and tag all the guys she's given blowjobs and handjobs to. Click the image to enlarge:



Some questions and thoughts:

• What's the "deadline" all about?
• "Maybe HJ"?! How do you not know if you've given someone a handjob?!
• What's a "V-Card"?
• I agree. Haircuts are nice.

Yes, I feel guilty for laughing. But nothing cures guilt faster than a good laugh.

[Thanks to Howard Ho and Peter Varvel.]

Romania may or may not be a shithole, but Sweden definitely rocks. (I mean, hello!, it's the country that gave us ABBA!) The following video takes a while to load, but it's worth the wait. It's awesome in ways that I can't describe to you here without ruining it. I cannot embed it here, so go to this link to view it or click the picture below:



(And, yes, it's fully customizable for your own devious purposes.)

[Thanks to Gabriel Fleming.]

When I was in Luxembourg this summer, I borrowed an old French phrasebook from one of my co-workers before I went to Paris for the weekend. It was a 1982 reprint of a 1968 British edition published by Penguin.

As you can surmise, this came in terribly handy. I mean, I was on vacation. I didn’t need to know how to say anything related to cell phones, the internet, computers, or anything else that’s happened in the last 28 years.

Instead, I was able to wow the French with my command of their language by saying such things as “There’s no ashtray in my room,” “Do you have flash bulbs/cubes?,” “Do you sell lighter fuel/flints?,” “A box of paper handkerchiefs, please,” and the ever useful “Do you sell sanitary towels/tampons/cotton wool?” (The implications about hygiene habits 30 years ago made by that last one, I care not to think about.)

Prince should read it because of the comprehensive “Going Out” section. (I tried not to imagine why my co-worker’s copy was neatly broken at the spine at exactly this page.) The phrases on this made me nostalgic for a more innocent time, a time when these phrases didn’t seem freakish and weird.

Let’s take the first phrase for instance. You spot an attractive man or woman, saunter up to them, and say in your deepest stalker voice, “Are you waiting for someone?” If they don’t run screaming, the phrasebook then offers you some more normal ways to ask the person out. But you don’t use those; instead you ask, “Would you like to go for a drive” (in my van out into the woods)?; “Can I bring a friend?”

Let’s say the object of your affections acquiesces to a more conventional first date. You sip coffee under the Paris lights and as the evening winds to a close you ask him or her, again in your deepest stalker voice, “What time do you have to be back?”; “Can I give you a lift home/to your hotel” (in my van via the dark woods)?; “Where do you live?”; “Do you live alone” (because I don’t want to have to kill any witnesses)?

Fortunately for me, I was going to Paris to propose to my girlfriend and didn’t need the “Going Out” section, but I’m sure Prince could use it to stalk some nice virile Frenchman.

[Alan Goy also blogs at Experiment Farm.]

Photo by Aaron Lee Fineman
(click to enlarge)

At the the Barnes and Nobel in NYC's West Village.

[For more work by Aaron Lee Fineman, visit www.aaronleefineman.com.]

We all know Oprah can pull this kind of stunt off, as evidenced in this previous Bamboo Nation post, but my real question is: Can Pork Chop pee in a toilet, too? And, if so, would he also sound like Adam Sandler?



[Louise Larsen also blogs at Louise On The Left.]

Did you know that Bamboo Nation's favorite North Carolinian, Michael DeAntonio, who I have been sexually harassing for a year and a half now, is now making video blogs? Yes, he's using the kind of shitty camera that gives his videos an amateur-porn look. He, unfortunately, doesn't take off his clothes or anything, but the amateur-porn quality of the video is all that's needed to get me worked up. Anyway, for those of you whose concept of Michael has been confined to his written words, the following video shows how hot, charming, and funny he is in the actual flesh. I especially enjoy his letter to to Joy Behar at the 2:37 mark, even if it does reaffirm his heterosexuality, which is a step backward in my opinion since I've been trying to gay-educate him. Watch:

Those of you who tried to watch the quit smoking commercial that I posted yesterday were greeted with a YouTube page that announced that the video was set to "private." Apparently, the makers of the drug don't like people like me making fun of their ad. Oh, but I must because it's so goddamn funny! Anyway, I found the same commercial elsewhere, so try watching it now. Again, I can't embed it, so go to this link or click the picture:



[Thanks to Andrea Apuy.]

My recent post, "Romanian Cinema Is the Worst Thing to Ever Happen to the Romanian Tourism Industry," sparked an insightful, amusing, and sometimes funny comments thread that featured various readers chiming in with their thoughts about Romania and whether or not it's a shithole. A few Romanians even joined the discussion!

Read the comments thread for "Romanian Cinema Is the Worst Thing to Ever Happen to the Romanian Tourism Industry."

For some reason (and this is a tangent unrelated to this Romania discussion), I am reminded of that scene in 1984's Top Secret!, where it shows a bunch of people supposedly singing the East German National Anthem, circa the 1940s. Watch:



Apparently, some YouTube commenters don't know that Top Secret! is a comedy, and are outraged by the "inaccurate" depiction of the East German National Anthem. Ah, yes, another great comments thread.

Some guy named Matt Bateman has drawn a delightful analogy between James Cameron's Avatar and Disney's Pocahontas. What he did was take the straightforward plot synopsis of Pocahontas and substituted that movie's character names with names from Avatar. Brilliant. Click to enlarge:



[Thanks to The Huffington Post.]

Two grandmothers sit in front of a green screen that's projecting a computer-animated roller coaster ride. Um...WHAT?! Watch:

Man, this boy really wanted an XBOX. You only need to view the first 30 seconds to get the gist of the video. Watch:

In the Bullseye section of the latest issue of Entertainment Weekly, they ask this about Susan Boyle: "If she's sold 2.4 million albums, how come we don't know anyone who's heard it?" Well, it's because all your friends are music snobs who spend their days clutching on to the hope that Bjork will release a comprehensive multi-disc collection of B-sides, outtakes, and screaming sounds, and they won't dare admit that they've listened to Boyle's full-length debut, I Dreamed a Dream, and actually thought it was good.

Well, I'm not afraid or too snobby to admit it. I've been listening to the Susan Boyle album for weeks. You know why? This woman can sing. I know that there's a whole mythology around her that may positively influence my appreciation of her, but what are music artists except for songs, performances, and mythology?

I will be the first to pass on her cover of The Rolling Stones' "Wild Horses," but she belts out excellent interpretations of the jazz standard, "Cry Me a River"; The Monkees' "Daydream Believer"; Madonna's "You'll See"; and, of course, "I Dream a Dream" from Les Miz. My favorite track is the album's only original, titled, "Who I Was Born to Be," which had an interesting genesis. The lyrics were penned by 25-year-old singer-songwriter Audra Mae, born in Oklahoma and now living on Los Angeles, where her star is rapidly rising because of the Boyle song and a just-released EP.

Listen to the beautiful and stirring "Who I Was Born to Be." And admit it—it's good!:

For those of you who have been greatly anticipating each and every installment of "Pork Chop's 15-Week Weight-Loss Challenge," I have some bad news. The scale that I use to weigh Pork Chop is broken, and his weekly diet updates will have to come to a stop until I manage to make it out of the house and purchase a new one. This may take a while. Now I personally don't think Pork Chop himself broke the scale, but I can't be sure and I don't want to accuse him of doing something he didn't do. So don't spread nasty rumors, gossipers!

This real ad for a prescription drug that helps people quit smoking has perhaps the most unintentionally hilarious disclaimer I have ever seen—I didn't think it was ever going to end. Yeah, in the commercial, everything seems all fine and good at first, but, when you hit the 1:10 mark, let the good times roll! They won't let me embed the video, so click here to watch it or click the picture below:



[Thanks to Andrea Apuy.]

Hey, I laugh at guys who get hit in nuts as much as the next person, but, when it happens as the result of an elaborate well-designed prank, I not only laugh but I also fall out of my chair in hysterics.The following prank takes the childish "stop-hitting-yourself" gag to a brilliant extreme. Watch:

After I saw 2007's 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days—a stark, depressing, nerve-jangling thriller about two women in hot pursuit of an illegal abortion in 1980s Romania—I left the theater thinking, "Man, Romania is a shithole!" (By the way, I had to see that film by myself because none of my friends wanted to join me when I asked them, "Do you want to go see that Romanian abortion movie?" Apparently, the words "Romanian abortion movie" are a turnoff.)

But I was of course willing to give modern-day Romania the benefit of the doubt. Surely, things have changed—politically, socially, economically—since the 80s, right?

Well, I just saw Police, Adjective, a new police drama set in contemporary Romania that won the Jury Prize at Cannes last year and that critics have been creaming their pants over (100% from Top Critics on Rotten Tomatoes), and I left the theater thinking, once again, "Man, Romania is a shithole!"



Before I expound further on Romania and its shithole factor, I should say a few things about Police, Adjective. If you took out all the parts of the movie where nothing interesting happens, the film would be mmmmmaybe 30 minutes long. Seriously. The remaining hour and a half of footage consists of a cop walking a lot, standing a lot, sitting a lot, and eating soup. Seriously. There's a whole scene dedicated to him serving himself soup and bread and then eating all of it. That's all that happens in that scene. There's another scene that features a five-minute long static shot of the cop sitting and waiting to be called into his boss's office, while the receptionist types. Five minutes. The camera doesn't move. Seriously. The most exciting thing that occurs in the entire movie is the climax. What happens during the climax?

[BEGIN POSSIBLE SPOILER.]

The cop spends five minutes reading entries from a dictionary out loud. Seriously.

[END POSSIBLE SPOILER.]

The reason I wanted to see Police, Adjective in the first place is because I thought the title was intriguing and I thought it was supposed to explore the ambiguity of language. Plus, since the film was definitely not a "Romanian abortion movie," I knew that the climax of the film wouldn't be a lingering shot of a dead fetus. (Yes, that's a 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days spoiler, but I don't give a crap.) But Police, Adjective's observations about the gray areas of language (which, you see, reflect the gray areas of police duty, personal morality, and conscience) don't warrant two hours of exploration, especially in the simply boring way the movie is executed. I mean, sure, I get that the film also wants to show you the very real tedium of police work, but it's possible to show the tedium of police work without being tedious. 2007's Zodiac is about the tedium of police work, but that movie is fucking riveting.



But enough about Police, Adjective. I want to talk about Romania. Is it really the shithole that Romanian Cinema seems to suggest it is?

The Romanian Tourism Board, if there is such a thing, should be outraged that two of the most visible Romanian movies in the past couple years paint the country as a bleak, rundown Eastern European hell. And, look, I don't need to hear about how the communist regime in Romania was one of the last to fall in Eastern Europe and how the country is just trying to find its footing. That has no bearing on the fact that I think Romania is a shithole, and I would never want to visit. I want to be wrong. I really do.

Has anybody reading this ever been to Romania? Is it a shithole? And, look, I don't want to hear about how there's one city in Romania on the coast that's beautiful and lush. What about the country as a whole?

Are there any Romanians reading this? Care to jump to your country's defense? Or do you hate it and want to get out? I checked my Google Analytics, and during the course of 2009 this blog received a remarkable (considering) 344 hits from Romania! (Five of those hits are from the town of Vaslui, where Police, Adjective is set!) I know some of you are reading! I want to love your country! I really do! Make me love your country! And demand that your filmmakers start pumping out hilarious Romanian comedies! (Um...wait a minute...Police, Adjective IS a comedy? Seriously?)

Maybe Romanian-born NPR commentator Andrei Codrescu can clear things up for me? Mr. Codrescu, is Romania a shithole?! And was that Romanian abortion movie a comedy too?!

Two movies that were released theatrically in glorious 3-D and that I wrote about previously are out on DVD today. One's great, and the other made me want to slam my head against a concrete wall. I'm sure you lose a little something not seeing these in three amazing dimensions, but that's what you get for not catching these months ago, you lazy homebodies.



Excerpt from my original post about Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs: "An epic disaster film filtered through the Disney Channel and Food Network." Read original post here.



Excerpt from my original post about The Final Destination: "This one sucked." Read original post here.

With a post headline like that, you just know that we're going to visit the wonderfully bizarre world of Japanese television. I swear I watched that chimp poke that penis like six times, and I laughed hysterically every single time. Anyway, all the wackiness builds to a suspenseful climax. Will the adorable ape get to have his cake and eat it too? Or will he be thwarted by the bulldogs? Or the angry bird? Watch:



By the way, today I had to look up the difference between chimps and monkeys.

So New Year's Eve happened, and I, uncharacteristically, got so fucked up (aren't you proud of me?!) that New Year's Day basically disappeared. It's like it never occurred. So now I'm doing a bit of catch up, and I'll see you back here on Tuesday. I really wanted to start off the first full week of the new year with a bang on Bamboo Nation, but you're going to have to wait. I need some sleep, and I need to contemplate my life.

Photo by Aaron Lee Fineman
(click to enlarge)

Here's to a great 2010!

[For more work by Aaron Lee Fineman, visit www.aaronleefineman.com.]

Sorry I missed the 6 a.m. deadline for "Louise's Saturday Videos" for Bamboo Nation, but it's January 2 and I can barely figure out if that means it's Monday or Wednesday.



Three of Cups Tarot Card: Meaning and Symbolism
The Three of Cups is a joyful tarot card full of images of celebration and abundance.
In general, it is seen as a card symbolizing bounty and abundance, as well as socialization and casual friendships. It means, eat, drink, and be merry.

And, so my very plausible explanation for my late posting is due to the simple fact that since this year began I ate, drank, and was merry. That's why.

You see, in terms of numerology, this year is "a 3 year." (2010 adds up to 2+0+1+0 = 3. Got it? Good.) And this connection reminded me of the Tarot card for "3 of Cups."

So, I'm going with the "Eat, Drink, and Be Merry" theme because, well, because, let's face it, last year sucked. For everyone. Across the board: Sucked.