After my last gambling experience, I felt there were some wrongs that needed to be righted, so I agreed to meet my dad and Jason at Foxwoods today for a boys’ day out.
I hit the blackjack table soon after arriving, went up $35, felt confident (and hungry), so I took a break for brunch.
Perhaps I jumped back into the action too quickly, because I promptly lost that $35 and then about $95 more.
But, luck was with me today. Continue reading
Will it be Kelly Taylor or Felicity Porter?
Brandon Walsh or Ben Covington?
The Peach Pit or Epstein Bar?
These are the questions that occupy my mind now, since the good people at Comcast have added SoapNet to my cable lineup (no, I didn’t ask for it). As I’ve previously revealed, my Saturdays don’t begin until 12 noon every week because I sit on the couch watching Felicity reruns on the WE channel from 10 a.m. to 12. And now, with Beverly Hills, 90210 on SoapNet from 9 a.m. to 12, I’ve got a real problem.
Yes, I realize I’m male and straight and I’ve got much better things to do with my life. But these two shows are great guilty pleasures of mine, and to be totally honest — at the risk of total embarrassment — I’m quite excited about this addition to my Saturday morning plan. But what will I do? Please help me decide.
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If you’re like me, then you just can’t wait to see the new flick Snakes on a Plane. But maybe you know someone who isn’t as excited to see this movie as you are. Maybe Samuel L. Jackson needs to send a message that he or she should be excited, and should go see this movie. Just click here, follow the simple instructions, and Sam the Man himself will call your friend or sister or brother or fiancee or husband or wife or coworker (etc. etc. etc.) and send a personalized message that SoaP is a movie not to be missed. (No, really. He will.) Speaking of missed, didja get that link? It’s snakesonaplane.varitalk.com. Now do it … now!
With temperatures nearing (but not reaching) record highs in Boston today (I mean, it was so hot), I figured the only sane way to deal with it was to break out some Christmas music. So that’s what I did. Rather than a playlist full of songs like “Surfin’ U.S.A.,” “Margaritaville,” or “Beautiful Day,” I was grooving to tracks like “Jingle Bells,” “Let It Snow,” and “Winter Wonderland.” Admittedly, it didn’t really keep me cool, but it sure was fun. Damn, though. It was really hot out!
“Man it’s hot. It’s like Africa hot. Tarzan couldn’t take this kind of hot.”
— Eugene Morris Jerome, Biloxi Blues
Women think they have a pretty easy solution for dealing with a skin blemish.
All they do is apply some makeup, or strategically style their hair, and voila! the blemish is gone. (No, that’s not a sweeping generalization or stereotype. Not at all. Ha ha ha.)
Well, I like to think men have just as simple a solution. It’s a game I like to call “Fun with Facial Hair!” (Yes, the exclamation point is part of the trademarked name.) Continue reading
If you turn to page 82 of the new Improper Bostonian (with Josh Beckett on the cover), you may see a familiar face smiling and standing in front of the Bronson Gates on the Paramount Pictures studio lot (and yes, holding up a picture of the Improper).
It’s me (big surprise), and it’s a picture taken during my recent trip to L.A.
That picture in particular was taken by Todd when I visited him at work. (He actually had to take it twice until I got it just right. This one here is the other one we took.)
Alright, so it’s not the “Improperazzi” or the “Proper Bostonians” section (which I still would love to be in one day), but this has to be the next best thing, right?
It’s definitely better than the “Improper Impersonals,” that’s for sure. I’ve already been in that section (against my wishes).
Yes, I’ve done it again. Went to the beach yesterday — specifically, Wingaersheek Beach in Gloucester — and used that Coppertone spray stuff (it was SPF 30 this time).
But despite the almost perfect weather (not beastly hot, not blindingly sunny), I still wound up with a bad sunburn.
And it’s a bit worse than the last time: my back is red (or at least the right side of it is), my upper lip is burnt (I actually went out and bought Blistex for it), I’ve got a red neck, and my face? Well, someone this morning asked me if I’d slept in a radiation zone last night because I’ve got that redness below my eyes again.
But since I haven’t scared any young children yet, I’m going to say he was just exaggerating. Continue reading
Pick your journalism-related intro: “Breaking news” or “You read it here first.” Either way, Scarlett Johansson can’t act. That’s the real downfall of Woody Allen’s latest, Scoop, which I suppose isn’t sooooo bad, but considering Scarlett is the lead and is in most every scene, well, that definitely downgrades the film. And given how good she looked in Woody’s last film, the director really does her a disservice here. Otherwise, I laughed a few times and enjoyed the rest of the performances (well, other than Woody Allen’s, which was grating at times), but the plot is pretty thin and it gets wrapped up too easily at the end. So I guess Scoop for me is just a slightly above average movie (which is being a little bit generous). And that’s why it gets a C+.
Martin's Musings 