The Informers.

It's hard to believe it, but someone is making Bret Easton Ellis' The Informers a reality. The pic will star Kim Basinger, Brandon Routh, and Billy Bob Thorton. Basinger will play Thorton's wife in the flick, Thorton playing a movie executive, and Routh playing a vampire who lures his victims care of a night club scene.

Now, I read the book. I've read all of Ellis' books. They're all film-adaption-worthy but this one isn't. It's a great book, but it's a collection of short storys that intertwine. I honestly don't know how they're going to play it off. I'll definitely fucking see the flick, but I'm curious to see a script on it.

Gregor Jordan, who directed Bufallo Soldiers is directing it, and a few more names being mentioned to star are Jon Foster, Lou Taylor Pucci, and Ashley Olsen (yes, that Ashley Olsen).

Thats it. If you haven't read the book, I would seriously recommend doing so. It's worth the read, and you could probably get it off of Amazon for like a penny with $3 shipping.

Vicks new Jersey number 921FDSA98.

Mike Vick recently (today) pleaded guilty to "helping murder 6-8 dogs." Well, la-de-frickin'-da. You know what, it's not like he's out there killing babies. He "helped" kill 6-8 dogs, which could me he was sipping a mohito saying "Strike it in the butt! Strike it in the butt!" a few times to get them riled up enough.

My problem with this is that everyone and their mother has been saying: "I hope he gets raped in jail." And I'm sitting here fucking astonished that someone could say that. I mean, the guy (like I said) "helped" kill a few dogs. I don't know if that's punishable by rape, but I don't think it is. Rape is a serious fucking offense against a "human being." If he raped the dogs first, I'd say sure...why not? But according to reports, he just "helped" kill 6-8 dogs. People everywhere make it seem like Vick is the one who strapped Jesus to the Cross, but you know what they're just dogs. And that might sound heartless and mean, but so be it.

This whole thing is rediculous. Slap him on the wrist, make him pay twenty-million dollars to a bunch of animal shelters (who will undoubtedly rename the shelters "Vick's Dogs For Less") and be done with it. Think about it in terms of what kind of flack the guy is already going to take without prison time. He's going to get shit thrown at him, he's going to get heckled, he's not going to star in any more fucking Nike commercials or Gatorade advertisements. All because some people jump on the bandwagon and start believing something that's ultimately ridiculous, that animals are just as important as Humans.

Now. Whoa. I'm going to get lynched for this shit. And just to be completely honest, I love my dogs. I am just not that angry about people killing these dogs. They weren't mine. Apparently Vick still owes some guy a trillion dollars for his dogs. I'm just saying that this is all crazy. Ruining a guys career over a couple of fucking dogs.

If you're terrible at your job, you deserve to get fired.

Such is the case with Bob "I blow saves like hookers blow cock" Wickman. The Braves (JD's favorite team) cut ties with Wickman today after he went 20 of 26 in save opportunities with a 3.92 ERA. Two options for the Bravos are Manny Acosta (Triple A 20+ saves and an amazing ERA) and Joey Devine. Acosta is apparently one of there stronger prospects, and could definitely fill the role. For now, the Braves will use Soriano as a Closer even though he's been a little sketchy as well. Honestly, this scares me.

JD's Solution to Movie Piracy.

Recently there was this article on Wired.com's blog. I skimmed it (I don't read Wired.com, because it sucks) and found out that the culprit behind those Transformers copies has been charged (he plead guilty). Whatever. Listen, you want to stop people from copying shit in the movie theatre? Stop upping the God-Fucking-Price. Jesus. In my lifetime, movies have gone from 6.50 to 11.50 and so on. It's fucking crazy. If people didn't demand such a high price to see a flick, people wouldn't download/videotape/pirate it. Piracy is costing studios somewhere in the vicinity of $18.2 billion dollars. Well, lets put it this way, if you stopped charging $11 dollars for movie tickets, and just charge, lets be reasonable, $6-7 bucks, then you wouldn't be losing money, because unless you're a really bad fucking scumbag, you can afford that. Plus, kids tickets are cheaper anyway, Senior Citizens get to go practically for free. I mean, $6-7 bucks for a flick is a reasonable price to pay. If I was a pirate (har-har) I wouldn't film if all I had to pay was $6 bucks to see a new flick. Of course, if you're seeing a flick in IMAX you're going to pay more (I don't know why...fuck it). Just be fucking reasonable, people are doing this, because other people would rather pay five bucks for a bootleg than $11.50 for a movie ticket.

Fuck the MPAA too. Christ.

JD

Damn it.

Of course after I wrote that I found that I had an e-mail from Dashboard Confessional stating they have a new song off their new album (In Stores October 2nd) called "Little Bombs" up on their myspace page it's actually pretty damn good.

Sorrrrrrrrrrry
jd

Three bands that have changed my life for the better.

Seriously, it just dawned on me how much I've loved these guys, and they've been around for a fucking decade! Holy shit. I remember when they first came out with their song Push and Thomas was sporting the black nail polish on the finger nails. I thought to myself "What a fruit...?" and then the band came out with one of my favorite songs ever written "3AM" God. Jesus Fucking Christ. I might sound stupid and immature, but Jesus Christ, the song is amazing. I can't explain why I love the song, and I shouldn't have too. The music came at a time in my life, when I was influenced upon by everything around me. Matchbox Twenty, Third Eye Blind, and Eve6 were all influences on me. Therefore, within the next three days, I'm going to write three separate entries for these three bands. All unique in their own way. Some aren't around anymore (Eve6), Some have fought the test of time (Third Eye Blind), and others have disbanded and come back together (Matchbox Twenty).

Matchbox Twenty will (hopefully) come tomorrow. Whereas I throw out there my love for a band that is seldomly remembered because Rob Thomas went out to do pop music, only to come back and put out a fantastic single called "How Far We've Come." I would write this first article now, but I am tired as hell. Therefore it wouldn't be as good if I did it now; And I want it to be good.

Thanks.

The Farmingdale Trip: Part 3 (The Finale...I hope)

I've gotten sick of writing this recap bullshit, honestly, I have better things to do, and the fact is no one reads this shit anyone, but I'm going to do this recap regardless.

I don't actually know where I end in the previous installment, but we'll start with Marc and I arriving at Theresa's party on Saturday Night. Basically, we're there and we know three people. Theresa, Gina and Lauren (very briefly). There is beer pong played, and this night JD sucked at Beer Pong. I couldn't hit a cup to save my life, and Marc couldn't hit a cup to save himself from the utter humiliation. I hit most cups, Marc hit a few, but basically we got our asses handed to us.

Now, the fact of the matter is, I do not suck at Beer Pong. In all actuality I'm pretty damn good at Beer Pong, I've beaten my brother "The Barry Bonds" of Beer Pong on more than one occasion, but that Saturday I was borderline gimp. Tossing that ball around, I felt like a complete jerkoff, three inch wide cups with an inch wide ball. Christ.

Anyway, to move on, the Party was Theresa's it was for her birthday which happened to be last Monday. Marc, however, began to get utterly obliterated. He was tanked by the time he left, and to be honest, I don't remember what time that was. He was hitting on everyone, this girl Charlie (whom had the palest legs I've ever seen) and Theresa's friend Lauren, not only that, but he hit on Gina too. Now, I say "Hit on" in a very relative way. Hitting on someone is an art, and Marc is not nearly and artist. If you could count slurring antagonist things at people, hitting on someone, then Marc was definitely doing that. Marc will probably be pissed at me for writing this, but there was a moment where everyone was saying that "Marc is going to fuck " and he would giddishly smile and give a half-hearted wave. The object of Marc's offection that night was not a woman, however, it was Jose Cuervo's signature blend of Tequila.

The night was over, people were packing shit up, and there was this ass clown who I'll call Fatrick, because I don't remember his name, but he reminded me of the nerded guy on The Class from CBS last year. He had this whiny, and apparently wants Theresa. He came up to me and asked me if I was with Theresa, whereas I aptly responded yes. He went on to say that he is friendly with everyone and that I shouldn't take what he does seriously. I said "Alright, man" and walked away. I spent the night at Theresa's house, and the next morning I find out that this Fatrick fucktard was asking all kinds of questions to Theresa's brother about me, here, and us. And basically, her brother wanted to hit the kid, but he didn't. Oh well.

After an awesome breakfast, I split, because I feel like total shit. I know I got some people sick while I was home and I apologize. I drive around with Marc or whatever to do lunch, and try and find out of if I can buy this Dwight Gooden auto jersey, but the guy had just sold it. Fuck. Anyway, prior to that, I bought a signed Canseco ball, and a Superbowl 25 vintage helmet. Whatever.

That day pretty much ends in blur for me, because I was feeling like total ass. I don't know if I was the change in temperature, or something, but Christ, it's carried over to PA. I brought this shitty LI plague back with me, and I still wake up feeling like shit every morning. I'm sure it has something to do with Marc's house being a trillion degrees every night, while my house (at current time is somewhere between 55-70 degrees. It might be Marc's room that doesn't get circulation, but who the Eff knows. All I know, is that after the first night I felt like I woke up swimming a marathon. A marathon of sweat.

I know I left some shit out, but fuck it. I can't even remember back that far.

Things that are Awesome...

Here's an article about Michael Cera, who played George Michael Bluth on Arrested Development and more recently starred along side Jonah Hill in Superbad.

Thanks.

Superbad was fucking fantastic by the way.

Greatest Song...Perhaps EVER

The Farmingdale story.....

I can't wait to hear about Saturday. That should be fun, I need something to fill in the blanks I have in my head.

The Farmingdale Trip. Part 2

Okay, when I said I was going to be stopping in the middle of writing said blog I didn't think I was actually going to end it prematurely with "To Be Continued." Therefore, I half-heartedly apologize for it, I can't apologize fully, because no one reads this fucking blog anyway.

So, yes, I finish watching Die Simpsons (German) and I go out with Theresa as she's buying stuff for her party she's having (her birthday was Monday, but she had a party on Saturday) and I went along for the ride. Before we go shopping we go to Marino's Pizza, home of the greatest fucking Bufallo Chicken Pizza known to man, and Theresa demands that she pay, since I paid for Applebees, so I let her. I wasn't too happy about it, because I like paying. I'm one of those types of guys. There's seldom of us left. After we polish off our food, my mouth burns like a whores AIDS ridden vagina.....We arrive at Costco, or Buy-A-Lot, or BJs, I can't really recall (maybe it's because all of these bulk companies look the same) and we wind up buying nothing, because in a stark-realization, Theresa realizes that she doesn't 150 red cups, or 35 potatoes, or 85 hot-dog and hamburger rolls. I concede, because unless they're selling a lifetime supply of BottleCaps (the delicious candy) I do not want any.

After the Bulk-Buying (or lack there of) is done; we shoot to Pathmark, where I run into Chris McCrory, whom I haven't seen in at least five years. Five fucking years. The dude has been living somewhere other than New York (NH...I can't spell) and he's got this baby in the cart. The only thing I can think to say was "Is that yours?" and immediately after saying it, I felt stupid. I felt like a surge of stupidity rose up into my throat and spat out this ridiculousness. He said "Yes" and he said "He's cute" and in all my blunder of stupidity, I forgot to introduce Theresa - and just kind of stared at the kid for a moment, and Chris McCrory, who was buying shit with coupons. I notice, right then, that I am not ready for kids, or coupons.

After Pathmark, we buy stuff, that I can't remember. We have a conversation about the lovely Cookie-Club that Pathmark used to have, and then we leave. After Pathmark, we head to the Sunrise Mall, which is basically the same piece of shit that it was when I lived on Long Island. You're upper-classing a mall that's filled with black people, spanish people, and stupid white people. Blah. Regardless, we go into a few stores, nothing to write home about, and I wind up buying another XM Radio from Wal-Mart. I bought it, mainly because, the price tag was wrong. The price tag read "34.97" when in actuality it was "58.97" or whatever. Customer is always an asshole, therefore, I got my shit for $35 bucks, and not some inflated crazy $60 beans.

After Wal-Mart, I feel bad, because Theresa's taking me all over the World. And to explain it unlike an asshole, I mean, that she's just asking me where I want to go, and not thinking about herself. On a side note, I don't know why people do this to me. I don't understand why I have to be the voice of fucking decision, I can't decide what socks to wear in the fucking morning, let alone where I want to eat lunch. We go to the Comic Store, Serious Comix, where I talk to Chris for a few minutes, before leaving, because it fucking depresses me to go there once, when I used to go every week. Other than the people, I think I miss that place more than anything. Seriously. After that, we go somewhere, Best Buy maybe, where I buy King Kong 2-Disc, Northern Exposure Season 1, Orgazmo, and Dave Chappelle's Block Party. I have the most dis-interested Best Buy cashier pull up my Best Buy Credit Card info, since I forgot it, and she obliges (half-heartedly) and rings me up for my sale.

After Best Buy, I don't even really know what happens, I could be wrong, but I think that Borders came before Best Buy, but my days are skewed, because of my impending sickness, that I'm probably fucked in the head. Anyway, after Best Buy, or after Borders, Theresa drops me off at Marc's house, whereas I am greated with Steak, and burger. Awesome steak and burgers (not like the Dads, but close) and then I drive Marc and myself, somewhere, I don't know, Circuit City, Target, Toy's R Us, Liquor Store, etc. All things happened, not necessarily in that order. Anyway, at the liqour store, I swear that I recognize the dude, I don't know his name, but I swear to fucking God, that I know the kid. So, I whip out the PA License which is such a piece of shit, I'd say it's a fake, and the kid takes a look at the ID, and I tell him that if it was fake, it would have a "Lock" emblem on the ID and not all of the fucking County names. He gives a (half-hearted...seems to be a trend) laugh and sells Marc and I booze.

We head back towards Marc's house, it's very possible that Target came after the Liquor store, but I really don't remember. I do remember drinking myself stupid, literally, drinking any liquid (not alcohol) I could get my hands on. If I knew that this was JD getting sick, I would've fucking wrapped myself in a blanket and shivered somewhere in a dark cave. After getting back to Marc's house, we pop open a bottle of this "Zombie" shit, and pour it over ice. Now let me explain what this "Zombie" shit is; it's premixed to a sickening perfection that leaves you wanting more of the blue-water looking murder. It's disgusting, and wildly fantastic. After you drink one glass, the second, third, and fourth go down like...water. The drink is actually topped with a rum (supposedly 151, but no fucking way) that's nearly as strong as 151. I don't have a bottle of the crap in front of, because I don't drink much liquor, but I was feeling pretty good about getting fucking wasted so I ...went for it. Anyway, a short time later, TMK aka The Matthies Kid, calls and tells me an interesting story. A story so interesting, I can't write it here (consider yourselves lucky). I, without hesitation, say that the hot tub needs to be had, so TMK comes over and Marc and I go into the sweltering hot tub two days in a row.

I haven't seen TMK in a while, and I was so fucking bombed that I barely remember seeing him this time. And I think the fact that I was drunk and in a hot tub, made me sicker. I could be wrong, but the next morning/afternoon, I felt even worse. Anyway, some interesting conversation is made in the hot tub, but what's said in the hot tub stays in the hot tub.

To Be Continued (SORRY!)

The Farmingdale Trip; Part I.

Now, I know you're saying to yourself..."There's going to be two parts?" Fuck. I don't know. I don't know how "into" this blog I'm going to be midway through, therefore I might cut it off.

So, Thursday Morning, I work my shift of 9:30-4pm, and blitzkrieg my ass out of RS, and head to the Malibu (which I drove) I am listening to O&A at this point, and find that I sat in the car with the air conditioner on for twenty-minutes listening to these two ..guys talk about random shit with Bob Kelly - while not fucking leaving. So I leave, I go home, I take a quick shower (which took twenty fucking minutes because of course my brother has to take a shower ...in the middle of the fucking day) and get everything ready to go. Luckily I was packed beforehand, I did wind up leaving my pillow behind, but that was pretty much it (other than my Best Buy Credit Card).

Finally I get on the road, it's fucking 5:15pm, and I'm cruising (not literally, I don't speed per say, I just drive quickly) and then its starts raining all types of bat-shit crazy. I mean, it's raining so fucking hard that I can't see out my windshield. So, I'm sitting in this fucking torrential down pour and listening to the entire replay of O&A's Thursday Show. I find the show hilarious, and it actually kept me awake thankfully.

I'm screaming though, at people who are driving around me, because when it rains I believe people just lose their fucking minds. "OH SHIT...OH CHRIST...IT'S FUCKING RAINING OUT...I'VE GOT TO GO THREE HUNDRED MILES AN HOUR TO GET TO WHERE I NEED TO GO!" And to this, I say, fuck you, you fucking dickheads. God. I've never seen such bad driving. Here I am driving normal, abiding the laws, speeding up when necessary, and braking (more than necessary) in order to stay alive. Not only that, but if you've ever driven on I81, you know that there are tractor fucking trailers EVERYWHERE. And as if the rain is not bad enough, the fucking tractor fucking trailers are kicking up what seems to be more water! I really thought I was going to die.

However, I did not, the feeling of death reoccurs later in this lovely diatribe. Anyway, the storm actually passes, and I get to Long Island in fucking RECORD time. Four hours it takes me, even with the bat-shit crazy rain storm. I couldn't believe it myself. Marc calls me from his store and tells me to come by, that someone brought something into his store that he needs to take care of, so I take a little detour and hop on Meadowbrook to Merrick Rd and get to his store in Merrick. Whereas, I have to pee like a fucking homeless person in line to get free food at church. I go inside, and the fucking-bastard won't let me use the bathroom. I legitamately thought he was kidding with me. I had to pee so fucking bad, that I actually left his store to go to a CVS down the street where Golden Boy works, and he let me use their bathroom.

So, finally, Marc finishes his shit up, and we go to his house where I get all my shit in his house. And we go and meet Theresa at Applebees. Applebees was good save for the retard-Met-fan that came over and berate, heckle, or make himself look like an asshole. I don't know what he was actually doing...I was kind of confused with what he said, and still am to this day. I don't
if he was actually being serious. Oh well.

After Applebees I try to con Theresa into coming back to Marc's house to go in the hot tub, but she refuses. I don't know, I love hot tubs, they're relaxing as hell. So we get back to Marc's house, and five minutes later we're in a hot tub that's bordering on 104 degrees. And to be personally honest, I've taken showers hotter than that. The heat, honestly, didn't both me. It was weird. The next day, I felt like total shit, when I woke up at like a 10:45am. I take a shower, and quite a few shits (because of the beer and applebees) and finis h up Jim Norton's Happy Endings. The book was a hilarious diatribe on sex, sex, and comedy, and ridiculousness. After that I actually watch The Simpsons Movie on Marc's computer. Marc's computer which happens to be an HP connected to his massively large (I don't know specifics) television. The quality isn't great, but it's pretty damn good, and watchable.

To Be Continued. . .

Apparently I'm not allowed to just hate people anymore.

I've been told I need reasons. So here it is ladies and gentlemen, a list of 20 specific people or types of people that I hate:

1. Lindsay Lohan - Coked up whore
2. Paris Hilton - Coked up skank
3. Nicole Richie - Skinny, bulimic whore
4. Britney Spears - crazy fucking bitch
   
5. Hilary Clinton - For ruining NY State
6. People who don't speak english - They don't speak english. This goes for all languages too, not just spanish people.
7. People who listen to country music - I'd rather listen to Lance sing Chocolate Rain than lsiten to country music.
8. Jennifer Lopez - She can't act or sing, but yet she gets paid to do both because apparently she has a fantastic ass.
   
9. Penelope Cruz - she's not hot. She's been in ONE good movie, and yet people still talk about her. WHAT THE FUCK.
   
10. People who talk during movies - Hey asshole, shut the fuck up. I didn't pay to hear you.
    
11. People who are constantly on their cellphones, especially those who have the bluetooth headsets on like constant like they can't ever stop talking to someone for like 2 seconds and even though there must be tons of DEAD AIR, they still don't hang up - I think that person is pretty specific.
    
12. People who are obsessed with their pets - Hey, asshole, you don't have to bring them everywhere. They aren't children.
    
13. People who play World of Warcraft - Yeah, fuck you.
    
14. Guidos - www.getoffourisland.com
15. People who wear socks with sandals - Asshole, just wear shoes.
    
16. People who eat popcorn at a baseball game - Asshole, eat some crackerjacks. Popcorn is for MOVIES.
    
17. The following bands and or/singers and the people involved in/with them - POD, Missy Elliot, Sean Paul, R. Kelly, Lifehouse, 50 Cent, James Blunt, Nickleback, Insane Clown Posse, Slipknot, Creed!
18. Old people - They slow everything down and don't understand anything ever. Especially old women. And old men who drive with hats on. They are the worst drivers in the world.
19. People who ride motorcycles - Hey asshole, get off my road.
    
20. People who take forever to order food from a fast food establishment - I'm pretty sure you know the menu, fuckface. It doesn't change much.
    

Who do YOU hate? Leave me a comment. And make it good, because anyone who writes, "YOU" as in referring to me is either dumb or retarded.

Paolo Nutini's Last Request (Things that are Awesome)

I don't know what it is about music. Something just happens to me, and I'm taken over. I love music. I always have. From Barry Manilow to the Beach Boys to the Arctic Monkeys, I just love music. Paolo Nutini is no exception. He incorporates an amount of soul and acoustic sound that's almost too good for words. His song "Last Request" had me mesmerized for a moment while I watched the video on VH1 the other night. I don't know why it too me so long to write, but regardless said song is fantastic. I will definitely attempt to buy the album too, because yes, I do buy albums occasionally.



JD

COOLEST. SHOES. EVAR.

That's right. I said evar.

Motherfucker, I want 2 pairs of these.

http://www.votemoojj.com/stuff/shoes/index.html

Tennis still sucks.

So, today at work I'm marveled by a sport I don't often watch: Tennis. John Isner vs. Tommy Haas. Isner is the pure-bred looking American Pretty Boy who I would've probably heckled in highschool, whilst Haas looks like he could beat me to death with something very large.

Now, yes, I'm at work, and no, I won't tell you where I work, but I don't do much stuff. Especially if it's not asked of me, so while my Manager is interviewing someone (to no-doubt replace the bumbling idiot watching television constantly) I watch tennis. I don't know why, but I was really getting into it. I found myself rooting for Isner, despite the fact that I loathe the ground he walks on, and I don't know why. Maybe it has something to do with the Nazis, and the German, but fuck if I wasn't cheering on this Isner guy.

The match went like this Isner taking the first set 6-4, Haas taking the second 6-7, and Isner winning the match after a grueling tie-breaker in the third set 7-6 after a 6-6 tie.

Maybe why I was so enthused by this is because of the tie break. It went on for a good ten minutes or so, going back and forth, continually matching points, until Isner finally got his second wind and finished off the German in the third set 7-6. Something, however, that I would suggest is that they change what these players wear. I'm kind of against watching a 20-plus American dude sweating through his white shirt. There's no need to see nipples on ESPN....unless of course they're attached to a swimsuit model.

JD

Teixeira is an Atlanta Brave - and I have proof!

Baseball. I know you all hate it, but fuck you. I'm excited!