Getting All Wet For Wolverine

My brother and I just went and saw "X-Men Origins: Wolverine." It was terrible. Like Dagger of Lokin terrible. The entire X-Men franchise has been a complete let down for me, ranking second only to the Star Wars prequels as the most disappointing movies of all time. The X-flicks, like the Star Wars prequels, had all the potential in the world for being truly great movies, but ultimately failed because of poor plot lines and poor writing.

If you were planning on seeing it, don't bother. Don't even wait for it to come out on DVD. Just pretend it never happened. Trust me.

Bashing the movie however is not the reason I'm posting this. Really, who am I to criticize poor writing? No, the real reason is the girl who sat behind my brother and I during the movie.

I noticed her when she first entered the theater, being that she was female and I tend to notice when females are around. She was alone, and she came in during the previews and sat just behind me and to the left. In the brief time I had to check her out, my take on her was that she was a total dork, a classification I rarely attribute to girls. Guys can be dorks, whereas women who love comic books and Star Trek and playing dungeons and dragons are just oddly cool to me. Somehow their femininity offsets what would otherwise be dorky traits. Not with this girl though. She was a dork. A cute dork, but a dork. The chick had come alone to see a comic book movie, and her enthusiasm was readily apparent as she hurried to her seat and began tearing into a candy bar. It wasn't until the movie started though that I realized exactly how enthusiastic this girl really was for the movie.

Almost immediately the girl began to talk to the movie, or more specifically, to Wolverine. But I don't mean that she was commenting on the movie. She was literally talking to Wolverine. In the first scene of the movie (here comes a spoiler), Wolverine is a young boy who witnesses the murder of who he thinks is his father. Seeing the murderer standing over his dead father, his claws reveal themselves for the first time in his life, and he charges the murderer and impales the man with the bones protruding from his fists. As the murderer is dying, he tells Logan that he is in fact his true father. Oh my god, wolverine just killed his real father. Real good stuff, right. So while I'm snorting at the absurdity, the girl behind me is trying to console Wolverine.

"You poor boy. You killed your father!"

Had she said this sarcastically, I would have been right with her. But she hadn't. She couldn't have been more serious.

As the movie continued, her empathy for Wolverine and his trials grew. She was there for him, and she wanted him to know it. She felt his pain.

Then came the love scenes, and things really got weird. The romance between Wolverine and his great love Kayla Silverfox was a drawn out, cheesy depiction of a warrior settling down and leaving his violent past behind in order to start a new life with a super hotty who couldn't love him more. It was sappy and predictable, all for the purpose of showing us the severity of what Wolverine lost when the woman inevitable died.

Unlike with the rest of the movie, the girl was completely silent during the love scenes, except for her measured, if heavy breathing. I wasn't sure if she was jealous of Kayla Silverfox, or if she thought she was Kayla Silverfox.

Finally though, it was all too much for her. In the most sexual scene in the movie, Kayla slides on top of Wolverine (wearing a silky, sexy night gown), and begins kissing him in between reciting a story about the romantic escapades of mythological gods. I'm surprised I didn't get a chubby.

It was at this moment, with a half-naked Hugh Jackman putting his adamantium retracted claws all over lovely Kayla that the girl got up and left. She left and she did not come back.

Either she couldn't stand watching her true love Wolverine in the arms of another woman and simply had to storm out of the theater, or she went home and masturbated. I'm guessing the latter.

What a dork.

Random Thoughts

It's been a while since my last blog, but what can I say? I'm deVoid of opinions worthy of being posted for public consumption. For example...



--- I'm officially putting myself on suicide watch. Why? Because of Bret Favre, as always. Once again, good old #4 simply refuses to go away, assuring yet another off season of Farve drama for you (yes you, my helpless reader) and I to endure. For those of you who may have missed it (and my, what a lucky little sportscenter-hating bastard you are if you did), the scrappy, never-say-die #4 has decided to undergo arm surgery so that he can return once again to the NFL (which for Bret stands for will Never Fucking Leave). This time, he'll most likely end up quarterbacking the Vikings, who as far as I know, are the only idiots courting Mr. 1997.

Every sports show I watch, from Pardon the Interruption to Sportscenter, will have 24/7 Farve coverage from now until the end of the off season, thus ruining every TV show I love for the next four months (with the exception of HBO's Entourage, which will be ruined by a Tom Brady cameo).

Seriously, I'm gonna bathe with a toaster.



--- Reason #214 why I hate customers- their obsession with new money. A day doesn't go by that I don't have a customer request of me a flawless, fresh from the mint bill. Occasionally, maybe 10% of the time, the customer is about to leave the country, and needs the money to be new so that they won't have any problems exchanging it. Fine, I'm OK with that. It's not the customer's fault that other countries are so damn picky about the condition of our currency. It's the other 90% of customers, the gift givers, that make me want to unleash the mighty maw of my staple remover upon their faces. With these people, it's always the same. They want the money to be new because their giving it as a gift. Were the bill to be old, or if it had markings on it, or if was worn even just a bit, well that simply wouldn't do. God forbid that the high school grad receiving this gift should touch a tainted, cocaine-laced bill long past it's glory days. Oh, hell no. The bills must be virginal, their hymens completely intact. They must be as fresh and as clean clean as possible. They must pop pop pop! Are we green?

OK, I get it. New money looks better, it feels better, it even smells better. It's easier to slip into a stripper's g-string, or so I've heard. But in the end, will the person receiving it really give a flying fuck if it's new or not? Will they love it any less? Will they refuse to accept it? Nope. So just take the money I give you and get the hell out of my bank.



--- Vegas, baby! That's right kids, it's time for another Vegas trip. I think most of you out there know about this already, but in case you don't, Steph and I plan to hit up the greatest city ever the weekend of Halloween (Oct. 31st- Nov. 3rd). How cool will that be? Halloween has been quickly transforming into an adult holiday for years now. Well just imagine how crazy it'll be in Vegas. Why the hell didn't we think of this before? Plus, we'll be going in the heart of the NFL season, which means lots of easy money. Peeps, the donks are playing at Baltimore that weekend. And the Giants are at the Eagles. Need I say more?

--- I'm starting to think I'm not cut out to be a writer. Not just because I have no talent, or because my control of the English language is poor (which are both reasons enough), but because I'm the slowest writer to ever sit his ass in front of a computer and type. It takes me forever to write, whether its a blog, a short story, or a novel. It took me five years to write the Dagger of Lokin. I've been writing Hell's Elevator for what seems like forever, and it's still not finished. Could I really finish something if I was under a deadline? If a publisher wanted the Mace of Dominion finished in six months, or even a year, could I get it done? I seriously doubt it. Writing will always be a hobby, and maybe that's for the best.

--- A few weeks ago while Steph and I were in Boulder, I picked up a T-shirt making kit at a quirky toy store somewhere in the bizzaro world that is Pearl Street. Let me tell you, I am completely and madly in love with my T-shirt making kit. Already I've made three shirts, and I'm officially addicted. The only reason I mention this, my dear reader, is to warn you of the awkwardness to come when I eventually present to you your very own, specially designed shirt. Chances are you won't like it and that you won't want to wear it, but you needn't worry about that. You can use it as a rag the next time you wash your car for all I care, but you're getting the shirt. Like lesbian porn and boozing before it, making t-shirts is my latest, greatest obsession, and I highly doubt I'll grow tired of it any time soon. There, you've been warned.

Here are just a few t-shirt ideas I'm currently working on:

Abortion: It's why I found parking.

What's in your ham wallet?

Plays well with Boobs.

Great stuff, right? Sure. But don't worry, friends. If I do make you a shirt, it won't be of any of the ones above. It'll be designed specifically for you!

--- If there's anyone out there who reads my blog but doesn't read Daniel's, give yourself a hard slap across the face and go check out his blog. It's damn funny, plus unlike me, he consistently makes posts. Oh, and be sure to post a comment so he knows you were there. Tell him Triple L sent you. http://theashaman.blogspot.com/


--- I'm officially on the Nugget's bandwagon. Who want's to hit up downtown with me if they make it to the championship? I might finally get to check "getting sprayed with tear gas" off my things to do list.

The Diet Blog (Part 3)

For those of you who haven't noticed, it's been a while since my last diet blog. Two weeks in fact. I took a bit of a break from the diet, deciding (on a whim) to indulge in all the things I shouldn't when trying to loose weight. I got drunk a few times. I ate whatever the fuck was in front of me. It was great.

But the vacation is over, and it's back to being a super trooper. Despite my poor motivation recently, I still managed to loose a few pounds for the week. From now on though, I'm bringing it hard core.

Stats:

Starting Weight- 211 lbs
Goal Weight- 180 lbs
Current Weight- 202 lbs
Weight Lost- 9 lbs
What I Miss the Most- Steph dressing in caramel pasties and whipped cream panties.
Current Mood- Inhibited.

A Glimpse Into deVoid of My Mind...

Random Thoughts-

- As you may have noticed, my blog finally has a name. deVoid was the winner (though I had to write it as DE VOID since the settings page insists on capitalizing every letter in the title). It's a fitting title I think, considering how lame this blog is. It is deVoid of anything entertaining, which is why you're deVoid of interest. Yes, very fitting.

- Every time I hear the word "plethora" (which is usually when I stumble upon "The Three Amigos" on cable), I can't help but think that the word should mean something completely different than what it does. To me, plethora sounds like it should be part of the female anatomy. Like instead of the G spot, a woman's elusive pleasure point should be called the plethora. Or maybe plethora should replace labia. I don't know. But if a woman ever offers to show you her plethora, you damn well better say yes.

- I would never dream of telling the greatest football coach who has ever lived how to do his job. Far from it. But if I may humbly make a suggestion to Josh McDaniels, I think I have the answer as to who he should start at QB next year. It isn't Orton. It isn't Simms. It's both of them. Now before you start shouting about what a colossal failure multi-quarterback systems have been in the past, let me point out the opportunity the Broncos have here. This wouldn't be your usual multi-quarterback rotation. Oh no, not here in Denver. In Denver, we have something unique. Something the NFL has never seen before.
Here's what I propose- No matter where the Broncos are on the field, no matter what down it is, all McDaniels has to do is ask himself, does this situation require a spleen? If the answer is yes, you put in Kyle Orton. If the answer is no, well then I say get Chris Simms in there as fast as you fucking can. For instance, it seems to me that if the play called for a QB roll out, Orton would be better suited for the play because his body wouldn't be infested with all those redundant blood cells that Simms would have. But what if the play calls for a QB draw? In this instance, having redundant blood cells would help anchor Simms, thus giving him sturdier feet and making him harder to tackle.
All the Broncos have to do is spleen or no spleen their way down the field. It would be a touchdown bonanza. Super Bowl here we come.

- Usually when I blurt out random ideas that pop into my head, the best response I can hope for are a few rolled eyes and a declaration that I fuck off. It's rare that anyone likes one of my ideas, let alone that they'd want to do it. That's why I was shocked (shocked!) when Steph and Tad agreed to hold the first ever Iron Chef Carlton next Sunday! How cool is that? Here's how it will work- each of them will prepare a main dish for our family night dinner. The dish can be whatever they want, so long as it includes the "secret" ingredient that the judges (Zach, my mother, and I) picked. After the dinner is finished, the three judges will score the participants on originality, taste, and presentation (up to ten points per category). The cook with the higher score wins. Really though, I'm the one who'll win. Ha! I can't wait. Oh, for those of you who are curious as to the secret ingredient... tis goat cheese. I wanted it to be Alfredo, but Tad told me to fuck off.

- I think the US government hates me. I'm not exactly sure what I did to piss them off, but they clearly don't like me. Why else would they decide to make a second series of state quarters? Are you fucking kidding me? Apparently one quarter for every state and territory just isn't enough. Nope. It was so much fun the first time they decided to do it again. In the wise words of Tyler Durden, paint the walls with my brains.

- Starting tomorrow I am committing myself to a strict writing schedule. From now on I will write every day for at least half an hour. Poor you. Expect a new short story to be posted soon.

The Diet Blog (Part 2)

Only one week in and I'm already tired of this damn diet. You'd think I'd learn to keep the weight off so I don't have to keep doing this shit. I'm officially an idiot.

As with my previous diets, the first week proved rather successful. That initial surge, even if it's mostly due to the reduction of excess water in my system, always gives me hope that my diet won't take as long as it inevitably will.

Damn you false hope.

Stats:

Starting Weight- 211 lbs
Goal Weight- 180 lbs
Current Weight- 205.5 lbs
Weight Lost- 5.5 lbs
What I Miss the Most- Philly Cheese Steaks
Current Mood- Disgruntled

On Second Thought...

Coach Josh McDaniels is a fucking genius.

He's so much of one that I had to drop that f-bomb, not only to prop up my weak writing, but to demonstrate just how serious I am. To leave it out would have been disrespectful. It would have been sacrilege, and Josh deserves better.

McDaniels is, without a doubt, the greatest football coach who has ever lived. No, I'm not being sarcastic. For those of you who read my previous blog, this may seem like a jest, but I assure you it's not.

Just hear me out.

Everything I've said previously about McDaniels was wrong. My opinions of him were ignorant and foolish, and I take every one of them back. McDaniels is far from the idiot I tried to portray him as. In fact, he's the Albert Einstein of NFL coaches. He's the Alpha and Omega of gridiron strategy. Josh McDaniels is a coaching god.

OK, maybe implying that McDaniels is the second coming of Vince Lombardi is a tad much. What can I say? I love hyperbole. That being said, I'm not really joking.

How else could you describe the man who single handedly, with but one ingenious move, did the impossible? Josh McDaniels, by simply hinting that he preferred Cassel over Cutler, has exorcised the ghost of John Elway from the city of Denver forever.

Let that sink in there for a minute, bronco lovers, cause it's true. That's exactly what he did.

In one brilliant move, Josh found a way to allow Broncos fans to love again without feeling ashamed. By letting go of Cutler, Josh has taught us how to let go of John.

You see, Josh understood exactly what he was getting into when he accepted the Broncos head coaching position. He knew what he was up against. Not only was he facing the near impossible task of building a championship team in Denver, but he was going to have to do it just as Shannahan had tried to for the last ten years. Under the menacing shadow of the greatest quarterback who ever lived.

Bubby Bister, Brian Griese, Gus Frerotte, Steve Beuerlein, Jarious Jackson, Danny Kanell, and Jake Plummer-- they were all starting quarterbacks for the Denver Broncos after the departure of Elway, and they never stood a chance. No matter what they did, no matter how well they played, it was never going to be good enough. Never. Because they weren't John Elway.

As talented as Cutler is, he's no Elway either, and he knows it. In Chicago, he need only live up to his potential to be a success. In Denver, he would have had to out class the Duke, and that was always a losing proposition.

McDaniels though has changed all that. Elway's ghost is gone, free to roam the hall of fame heavens, and it's not coming back. Kyle Orton, Chris Simms, or any other future Denver quarter back need not attempt to out duel #7. Elway is no longer the standard. Now, it's Cutler.

Do you see now the supreme genius of McDaniel's move? By simply hinting that he might prefer Matt Cassel to Jay Cutler, McDaniels set into motion a series of events that would lead to the crybaby Cutler forsaking our mighty Broncos and demanding a trade, thus turning him into the villain this city needs. Cutler, that back stabbing Judas, is now hated as much as Elway was loved. He is the antagonist in a story of cowardice and deception, a story that now needs a hero. In wanting to see Cutler fail, Broncosnation is finally ready to do what they never thought possible, to let go of Elway and embrace another quarterback. A quarterback who needn't be greater than the greatest of all time, but simply better than the whiny-ass bitch who we just sent packing.

Masterful, isn't it? McDaniel's exorcism of Elway's ghost alone is a triumph of the ages, but the brilliance of his plan goes yet further. Ridding Denver of the great one's shadow, though a tremendous accomplishment, was not the only difficulty Josh would have to overcome. The 2008 Denver Broncos was a disaster, and when you inherit a team that became the first in history to blow a 3 game division lead with only 3 weeks to go in the season, there's no choice but to shred the roster to pieces and start anew.

Next to losing though, reconstruction is just about the worst scenario an NFL head coach can face. Fans don't have the patience for rebuilding, especially when it seemed as though their team was on the verge of greatness. Enter the traitor Cutler, whose immature pouting has made him the scapegoat, allowing McDaniels the excuse to build a team in his own image without fear of reproach. What choice does he have but to rebuild, thanks to Cutler?

Beautiful, isn't it? The genius is in its simplicity. Not only did McDaniels free us of Elway's ghost, not only did he set up Cutler as the fall guy for reconstruction, but in trading Cutler for two 1st round draft picks (giving the donks four 1st rd picks over the next two years), McDaniels can infuse the Broncos with new talent in half the time it would normally take. Reconstruction will be a breeze, so much so that it may not seem like the Broncos are rebuilding at all. If Josh is genius enough to do all this, who says he can't get us to the promise land as soon as next year?

That's right, true believers. You heard it here first. Broncos will win the next Super Bowl. If you plan to be in Vegas any time soon, you might want to throw down a bet. Go on, get paid.

Thank you, Josh. Thank you for showing me the error of my ways. I am, thanks to you, forever a changed man. No more will I be a naysaying Broncos fan. No longer will I doubt. From this day forth, I will be steadfast in my belief that they will triumph. And should they not, there will always be next week, or next year.

It is only a matter of time before the Broncos are great again.

The Predominately Orange Apocalypse Has Arrived

Repent all ye Broncos fans, for the end is nigh! The predominantly orange apocalypse is upon us. We are all doomed.

Don't you read Revelations, people?

REV 11:15- The Seventh angel sounded his trumpet, and there were loud voices in heaven, which said: What on earth is McDaniels thinking? Trade Cutler to the Bears? For Kyle Fucking Orton? Pro Bowl quarterbacks just don't grow on trees. Not even in the Garden of Eden they don't.

REV 6:12- I watched as he opened the sixth seal. There was a great earthquake throughout Broncosland. The sun turned black for all predominantly orange of heart, like sackcloth made of burnt Cutler jerseys. The whole moon turned blood red like the uniforms of the enemy chiefs who would now vanquish the once proud donks forever more. And the stars in the sky fell to the earth like the tears of children whose dreams of watching Cutler strong arm balls between helpless cornerbacks while wearing the orange and blue were forever blighted. The hopes of Broncos fans to see another championship receded like a scroll, rolling up, and every possibility for playoff appearances and gridiron domination was removed from its place.


OK, maybe comparing the pending Cutler trade to the end times is a tad much. What can I say? I love hyperbole. That being said, I'm not really joking.

The Cutler trade is a huge mistake, an epic mistake that I predict will have lasting consequences for the Broncos. Of course, there's nothing that can be done about it now. Cutler is gone. The brat didn't want to play for a team that hurt his feelings, and his refusal to communicate with the donks forced their hand. Despite his crybaby antics though, Cutler is not the one to blame. McDaniels is the architect of the Broncos demise, as he was the idiot who thought it a good idea to try to get rid of Cutler in the first place.

Pro bowl quarterbacks are about as rare as women who like porn. The odds of finding one are slim. Yet McDaniels decided that Cutler was expendable. So now the Broncos are truly attempting the impossible- to find a pro bowl quarterback after throwing one away. And they have about as much chance of doing that as I do of getting published.

See! I just started a sentence with a conjunction. And I do it all the time! I'm a horrible writer. You can't start sentences with conjunctions. And you can't treat a franchise quarterback like they're a journeyman QB, such as say Kyle Orton, who ironically is now the Broncos #1 man.

The worst part of all of this though is that most of Broncos nation is siding with McDaniels. He who has caused the predominately orange apocalypse is the one getting the benefit of the doubt. All day long at the bank today (both before and after the news of the trade), the imbeciles (err, I mean customers) I helped were ecstatic that Cutler was getting the boot. Good Riddance, they said. He's a whiny bitch, they said. Can I have my balance, they said.

What bullshit.

A year from now these people will be calling for McDaniels' head. Three years from now they'll claim they were against the trade the whole time, and that they always knew that Cutler was the man. Fast forward twenty years from now, and those bastards will be telling their imbecile children all about how the McJaygate Curse started, leaving out of course the part about how they were cheering Cutler's departure.

Yeah, I said it. Curse. That's what we're headed for, true believers. Trades like this one are exactly how sports curses are born. It's karma. You can't just dump a player with Cutler's talent without serious repercussions. The football gods will not allow it. McDaniels not only fucked this year's squad, he fucked all the squads to come.

If you've got a goat, you should think about sacrificing it now.

The days of Broncos championships are over. The Broncos, thanks to McDaniels, are chumps, and they will be for a very long time. Barring some kind of miracle draft (like the donks find the next LT or something), the donks are headed for disaster. You need only look to the Detroit Lions to see the difficulty of defeating a culture of losing. With one of the leagues worst defenses and with an offense now in shambles, losing is exactly what the Broncos will be doing for quite some time. Maybe even permanently.

Even worse than the losing though will be the knowledge of what could have been. Jay was our quarterback. The playoff wins he will inevitably have with the Bears should have been ours. The 4000+ yard seasons should have been in orange and blue, not orange and black. His rings should have been won in Denver.

Instead, Cutler will rise to glory in Chicago, leaving Broncos fans with only Kyle Orton to face the predominantly orange apocalypse to come.

The end is nigh.


Predictions of a Naysayer-

I wouldn't so much call these predictions. More like prophecies. Here now is a glimpse of the future.

-- McDaniel's will be fired after his second year. Broncosnation (including the morons who cheered Cutler's banishment) will rejoice at the evil one's demise. Their joy will be short lived however, as the inept team that McDaniel's leaves will continue to wallow in mediocrity for years and years to come.

-- In Chicago, Jay Cutler will dominate. In his first five seasons, he will have more Pro Bowl selections than the Broncos will have playoff appearances. He will get the Bears to the playoffs in year one of his career in the windy city, and eventually he will win them a Super Bowl. The Broncos didn't just trade a top five QB, they traded away a championship.

-- The Broncos will suck so bad over the next five years that Bowlen will finally decide to sell the team. Unfortunately for the incoming owner, the McJaygate Curse will pass to him with the purchase.

-- Eventually Broncos fans will come to look at Cutler the same way Colts fans look at Elway. They won't remember that Cutler was a crybaby bitch. They won't remember that he abandoned the team. By the end of his career, Cutler will be a Super Bowl champion, and Broncos fans will be left to imagine how sweet it could have been.

It's times like these that I question the irrational love affair I have for a sports team. Why the hell should I care? What does it matter? I could logic it to death though and it wouldn't change a thing. The donks are my team, and they always will be, no matter how many times they kick me in the nuts.

But damn it, it stings.

One last thing- for those of you who aren't glued to espnnews, it's fucking Christmas in Chicago right now. Bears fans are collectively creaming their pants. Meanwhile in Denver, we're stuck with Kyle Orton and a handful of draft picks we will inevitably waste.

Who do you think got the better end of the trade?