Last week I went to see Super 8, and I have to say that I wholeheartedly agree that it's a film that is extremely reminiscent of classic kids/adventure/monster movies, but mostly in the sense that I didn't care about any of the characters, I couldn't really see much of the monster during most of the movie, and when I did get a good look at it it was pretty much a disappointment. You know, just because I splashed out of my mommy in the early '80s doesn't mean that I have to get all nostalgic (gawd I hate that word) about anything that reminds me of that dreadful decade. For example, it was only a few weeks ago that I watched The Goonies for the very first time, and I kinda hated every minute of it. Anyway, for me, the creepiest thing about Super 8 didn't have anything to do with the big scary alien monster, but with a pretty little girl named Elle Fanning. When I found out that she is only 13 years old, and was probably closer to 12 when they shot the movie, it was a complete and utter shock. Maybe I was confused by the fact that she has the kind of talent most adult actresses would kill for, or that her character DRIVES A FUCKING CAR, but that's hardly an excuse. What I'm trying to say is, I have absolutely no problem with waiting patiently for April 9th, 2016, and I have a feeling that unlike Elle's elder sister, time will be extremely kind to her.
Sorry, there's no way I'm posting a photo of a 13 year old girl
So yeah, in the next couple of weeks I will be spending most of my time washing my eyes out repeatedly with acid for checking out the boobs of a child. Men really are disgusting.
Here are three handy flowcharts that simplify the thought processes required when dealing with three very important questions I find myself asking at least once a day. They're pretty useful, especially if you're me!
Did you know that drinking too much water, just regular, ordinary tap water, may sometimes cause excessive urination? While you're mulling that over, enjoy this crude gif animation titled False Alarm, in which a doodle believes it is about to sneeze!
I love you both with a deep, everlasting passion, I love you more than life itself, I love you like I love the hummus at Aba Gil (especially you, Ms. Brie), and so I would like to make this official, sincere apology for what I have done here, but as soon as I saw that GQ Women of Community photo shoot I knew that I would never be able to stop myself.
I'm so sorry.
Humbly yours,
Ben.
Before
The original photo:
A Closer Look
Alison Brie's chest:
Gillian Jacobs' chest:
Ms. Brie's somewhat hairy forearm (she is half-Jewish after all):
After
All nice and shopped (click for a better view of the smooth, unblemished goodness):
P.S.
I have a problem, I know I do, and I promise to get help just as soon as I find a new psychologist who isn't too expensive and doesn't make me want to punch them in the mouth.
The best dating advice I've ever got from anyone was from this guy I went to high school with who wanted to use my dad's place to get laid, and it went a little something like this:
"The fastest way to win a girl's heart on the first date is simply to shower her with sperm as soon as physically possible. And if you can't get it up, urine works almost just as well."
Pretty inspiring stuff. Now here is another crudely drawn gif animation!
One of my all-time favorite movie quotes is from a little known film called A Prehistoric Adventure in Orion IV: The Quest Continues, and today I'd like to share it with you:
"As luck would have it, it was only much later in the day that I realized that I had his dick in my mouth the entire time!"
Neat, huh? Now here is yet another crudely drawn gif animation!
Did you know that two glasses of cow's milk (about 500ml) have as much cholesterol as in a single grape? To take your mind off of this shocking truth, here is another crude gif animation!
So, which came first, the chicken or the egg? The easy answer would be the egg, because of, you know, dinosaurs and stuff. But assuming we're talking about chicken eggs, the real answer depends on how one defines a chicken egg, either by A, an egg that came out of a chicken's vagina, or B, an egg that has the potential to hatch a baby chicken or rooster. If we consider the first creature to ever walk this planet that was evolved enough to be classified as a chicken - let's call her Dee - then according definition A the first real chicken egg would be the first egg to ever come out of Dee's vagina, and so the first egg came after Dee, while according to definition B the first real chicken egg was the one that Dee hatched out of, and so the first egg came before Dee, the first chicken. So, which came first, the chicken or the egg? The answer is a resounding YES. Now here is a silly animation, in which a humble egg turns into an even humbler Benny!
This is me right before I went to see the SonicVision music show at the planetarium at the Eretz Israel Museum in Tel-Aviv:
And this is me 38 minutes later:
This is what planetariums were fucking made for
In related news: earlier this week I saw Moby, who mixed the original SonicVision soundtrack (which is supposed to be way better than the Israeli one), perform live at Bitan 1 in Tel-Aviv, and it was pretty damn awesome. He was even nice enough to take my picture!
As usual, I am the dude on the right with the all ugly rubbed off of his face
The gorgeous and talented Kaki King also played on stage that night, and I had a really nice time staring at the way her boobs and thighs jiggled as she jumped around the stage. Personally, I found the fact that her haircut made her look exactly like Justin Bieber (only with much nicer boobies) way more hilarious than her name. Also, her music was pretty great, and the way she handled all those guitars totally made me squirt in my little panties. It's always a thrill to be in the presence of a classy lady whose fingers are so delicately skillful that she could probably use them to probe my nether regions without causing any extensive damage.
Yesterday I watched America's Most Hated Family In Crisis, Louis Theroux's follow-up film to his 2007 documentary about the Westboro Baptist Church. It was pretty creepy to watch, just like the first one, but it did have one piece of really good news: one of the members of the church said that if and when they'll be driven out of the United States, their plan is to move to Jerusalem! Well, my love for comically sexually repressed women is no secret, and so, should this actually happen and the Westboro Baptist Church actually relocates to the Holy Land, I hereby make a public solemn vow to take a bus to wherever they'll be picketing at and proudly hold the following sign up in front of the flock's more attractive specimens:
Hopefully by then some of the girls shown in the film would become a little more, well, legal.
Why is it that it's only socially acceptable for small children to appear in public embracing stuffed animals half their size? It always seemed so arbitrary to me, and just plain unfair. If the pure, loving relationship between a grown man and his stuffed animals is wrong, I sure as heck don't want to be right.
Today I watched Infestation, a horror/sci-fi comedy about giant insects from outer space that is funny and gory and just really really good, but the point I'd like to make today is this:
"You know what you look like to me, with your good bag and your cheap shoes? You look like a rube. A well-scrubbed, hustling rube with a little taste. Good nutrition has given you some length of bone, but you're not more than one generation from poor white trash, are you, Agent Starling? And that accent you've tried so desperately to shed? Pure West Virginia. What's your father, dear? Is he a coal miner? Does he stink of the lamp? You know how quickly the boys found you … all those tedious sticky fumblings in the back seats of cars … while you could only dream of getting out … getting anywhere … getting all the way to the FBI."
Best. Pick-up line. EVER.
And I'd definitely memorize a bunch of classic movie quotes for Brooke Nevin
Last Friday I went to see German heavy metal band Grave Digger perform live in Tel-Aviv, and I guess I had as much fun as I possibly could, considering that only three hours earlier I found out that someone who has been very close to me in the past 13 years had passed away the previous week. And don't get me wrong, I like Grave Digger just fine, but the way that young people these days can get all worked up over a musical genre that has been basically irrelevant for years now was pretty surprising, if not to say a tiny bit pathetic. I did learn two very important things about Death that evening: he plays a mean keyboard, and he insists on keeping his thick, dark cloak on at all times, even in the disgustingly hot Tel-Aviv summer. Oh Death, you're so silly!
Are those bagpipes under your kilt, or are you just really into skanky metal chicks?
So.... it's so weird when someone you know dies. I don't even know where to begin. At this time my only response would have to be this following doodle:
Last Thursday I went to the Indie City music marathon (14 indie bands in 5 hours playing back to back on two stages), which was part of the yearly White Night in Tel-Aviv. The main reason why I went was a band called Jack in the Box, which as you can clearly tell by the following video are 37 different kinds of awesome:
Their music is super-mega-crazy-über cool, their lyrics are the kind that's interesting and deliciously weird and just plain good (and in Hebrew, no less!), and best of all, their adorable singer has that specific brand of dorky sex appeal that I like so much. Like, just the way she put her hands to her ears when the music on the stage got too loud was literally the cutest thing I've ever seen in my entire life. So yeah, I've had a pretty bad experience with that sort of thing, so I won't go into all the disgusting, filthy acts I'd like to perform upon her person, but I will say this: I definitely wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life with her and stuff. Man, if I ever find out that she doesn't feed on the flesh of the dead I am going to drop dead on the spot with big fat stupid smile of my big fat stupid face.
I love you Yael Birenbaum, let's make out!
In related news: I've read many times that Eatliz were good live, but I had no idea!
Their performance at Indie City was nothing short of spectacular, and their rendition of Björk's Army of Me was pure musical bliss. Unfortunately, their singer is just too damn cool for me to develop a serious crush on, so I'll just stick with the lovely and talented Ms. Birenbaum. Thank you Channel 8 for a great evening, and thank you Mr. Invisible Grandpa Who Lives on a Cloud for coming up with the initial concept of smoking hot music chicks!