INCEPTION: THE PORNO

So Thursday at lunch, I'm on the eliptical listening to my work-out playlist when a song from the "Inception" soundtrack comes on. Immediately (and naturally), I started thinking about what the porn version of Inception would be like. I thought about it for so long I spent ten more minutes on the eliptical than I normally would have! Who says burning calories is boring?

• Obviously the title would be "Insertion" in America and "Insemenation" abroad.


• The plot of the movie would be this: one of the most powerful CEOs in the country hires the Inception crew to turn his daughter (who is a lesbian) into a heterosexual. To do this they are going to enter her dreams, through some mix of technology and drug that is never fully explained, and implant the idea that she should like dudes. But since the mind is so tricky they have to do it in a wet dream within a wet dream within a wet dream.


• Since all the action takes place in a dream, there is no real stakes/tension to all that is going on. So to counter the fact that you don't give a damn that they can't get hurt, I'm going to add some form of emotional investment : the main character Cock, (Leo's character is named Cobb...what else would I pick) wants to get back into the US of A to see his children (just so he can say "I just want my kids back" a la Tom Jane in Arrested Development). The reason he can't enter is because the FBI thinks he killed his wife. You see, Cock and his wife kept doing it in the dream world. They did it there so much, that the dream world and the real world blurred together and the wife realized she left the oven on in the kitchen. She needed to wake up, but Cock was distracted and couldn't make her come. The only other way to wake up from a dream is to die, so she jumped out the window. Turns out she wasn't in the dream. Because of his penis' failure to deliver, Cock blames himself for his wife's death. However, the powerful CEO promises Cock that he will erase the charges against him, as long as he can turn his daughter straight....INSERTION!
  
• Rather than the subconscious being a bunch of people attacking the protagonists, the subconscious is a bunch of people trying to have sex with the protagonists!


• The dead wife keeps popping up in the dreams because she's a part of Cock's subconsious; she keeps trying to bang him but if he submits then he'll wake up and never see his kids. In the wet dream within the wet dream within the wet dream he gets rid of her by faking an orgasm.


• The gravity-free/rotating hallway fight scene becomes a gravity-free/rotating hallway sex scene.


• That annoying bitch from Juno isn't an architect but a lingerie-designer.


• One of the characters has a premature ejaculation problem so everyone on the team is like "You can't do this mission; you'll only last a second and that will jeapardize us!" and he's like "Don't worry. I got this." And to do that he get's drunk.


• The identity-forger dude turns into Rosie O'Donnel in one of the dreams, to scare the lesbian into becoming straight. That sex scene will be gratiously eliminated from the movie.


• Inception was in IMAX....so will Insertion.


• The movie ends with Cock in the wet dream within a wetdream within a wetdream. He fakes the orgasm with his wife (eliminating her as the antagonist) and then finds the CEO's daughter and gives it to her so hard and well that the idea she should be straight is incepted in her mind. Also, she comes at the same time as the car in the first wet dream hits the water and the hotel room dropping in the second dream. Try that for dramatic montage/climaxes!

Best idea ever! I know! And you're welcome.

Lady Gaga at Lolla / Bonnaroo Flashbacks

So last Friday I went to Lollapalooza. While walking around Grant Park I experienced two Bonnaroo flashbacks:

• There's nothing scarier than being drunk at night and trying to walk through drug-induced girls who are dancing via the use of hula hoops. I remember Tim and I having two manuever through some during Stevie Wonder and I was positively terrified; it was like when Sean Connery had to go through the boiler in "The Rock"...except the stakes were higher at Bonnaroo.
• Chris was blown away by how many girls were at Lolla. I agreed and pointed out that at Bonnaroo they were less clothed (sometimes even naked) and actually of age. Which made assimilating back into real life even more difficult becuase I would walk down Bardstown Road and pass girls and think "why aren't they in bikinis and slurring their words?!" It also lead to constant cleavage withdrawal.

Speaking of Lollapalooza, Lady Gaga performed. To say he/she was awful would be an understatement. I could go into detail about the set list, the long breaks between songs, the "skits" that would make most mentally-challenged people read like Shakespeare, and her attempt to inspire the crowd, but I think I can summarize all that by saying this: Lady Gaga was so bad, her live performance should replace baseball as the thing that guys think of when they don't want to come yet. Just typing that has probably delayed my orgasms for the next decade. Gaga is many things, but boring as hell shouldn't be one of them

Also, apparently she is celibate because she thinks if she sleeps with a man he will steal her creativity through her vagina. That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Everyone knows only men can be creative. And the real reason is because she doesn't want anyone to discover her penis.

Tim and Me VS. Bonnaroo

Alternate titles: : Pilgrims in an Unholy Land and What I remember.

We woke up in Nashville at 6:00. It was the fastest I've seen Tim gone from sleepy/confused to excited back to sleepy/confused, although I'm sure it happens quite often when he has female company over.

All the gas stations were crowded with hippies except (shocker!) BP. It sucks what happens in the gulf...but not as much as it sucks being behind a bunch of hippies at a gas station. We pull into BP, fill up, get coffee and 8 bags of ice, and leave before the hippies at the Shell can even pull their cards out of their hemp wallets.

We hit Bonnaroo traffic around 7:20 or so. To establish myself as Alpha male, I throw on my Lakers/Fletch jersey (despite being warned by a Miss Abbe Wright that wearing jerseys at Bonnaroo is silly and unbecoming). The guys behind us notice my jersey and say they love Fletch. They are not hippies; they have a super hot blonde friend with them. I decide Bonnaroo is going to be alright after all.

Tim: "The girl driver in front of us is kinda hot." I look ahead to see the back of a brunette's head as she looks out the window. In my mind she looks like Alanis Morisette without the Canadianess. She turns around and has a soul patch. She is a he, and he looks like a mixture between Milhouse from the Simpsons and Anthoney Keidis (the RHCP singer) I immediately make fun of Tim and refer to the guy as "Tim's girlfriend" despite the fact I had thought it was a girl, too. In hindsight, the fact that their car had "boobs" written across the back should have been a giveaway that there would not be many females in the car.

Me: "There needs to be a word to describe guys that look like girls from the back"

Tim: "There is, it's called being a hipster."

It was around this time that we ran into a group that would terrorize us throughout the weekend...a despicable group that we would refer to as our "nemesises."

You see, Tim's girlfriend had a few friends in his/her car and they were with the group in the car in front of them. While stuck in traffic, one guy from the boobs car walks out and tries to haul one of those giant orange parking things into the car. He has a Jay Leno chin and a Bob Marley shirt on. I hate Jay Leno and reggae. I decide he must accidentally get hit by my car.

Then I remember all the advice I received about Bonnaroo...and by all the advice I mean everyone basically saying "Dawson, as a hippy-hating Republican with a Darcy-like social superiority you can't be rude to the dumb liberals just because all the weed they've smoked has destroyed their brains and turned them into smelly, anti-corporationy sycophants who'd fellate Obama if giving the chance." (At least that's what I assume people told me....I was too busy thinking about cleavage, speedboats, rum and/or when the lightsaber will finally be invented). To fight the urge to be myself (i.e. awesome!) I decided to embrace my inner-Matthew McConaughey: relaxed, chill, and not likely to bitchslap a white guy who likes reggae.

[Side Note 1: Tim recommended I should just act like Paul Rudd's character Kunu in "Forgetting Sarah Marshall" and to drive that recommendation home we did a shit ton of Kunu-quoting; the most frequent being "the more you do, the less you do" , "aw man you've got coral in your leg" , "hey look man if you get your leg bitten off by a shark are you gonna quit surfing?" and the mother of all Kunu quotes "Okay Monster Man!" No lie..."monster man" was said an average of 28 times a day. And that's a true statistic.]

[Side Note 2: Speaking of the deity known as McConaughey, I promise to finally put in writing my Tao of McConaughey that I've been bragging about for two years. Unless I got tired of this blog, and then you all have to wait for the book.]

I took a deep breath and ignored Leno chin....then two other guys exited the car. One was the size of a VW Bug (which explained why the car was so low to the ground), wore a purple t-shirt that probaly could have clothed a family of six, and gym shorts (not because he went to the gym frequently but because elastic is the only way he can get those torso-sized legs through a pair of shorts). He walks past and cordially (to his only defense) offers us a toke (I think that's how you spell that word, I don't speak pothead) of his joint. I don't smoke but even if I did I wouldn't have taken a hit, because anything coming from his mouth probably reeked of KFC. With the purple shirt on this guy looked like the offspring of Barney the Dinosaur fucking Harry Knowles (google his image for a laugh/fright).

Jabba's friend was roughly half his weight...so he was still really fat. Also, he was topless and had dreadlocks....a trifecta of pure awfulness. He, too, was smoking weed in public. You could probably take a picture of these two guys and it would be an effective anti-drug poster. If there was a God he (yes, in my world God is a he...he's also asian) would have thrown a boulder on the car. The only good thing about them was watching them try to run and catch up with the car when traffic moved quickly.

Anyway, Tim and I spent a good three hours ripping these people from the privacy of our car. We kept bumping into them throughout the weekend; seeing them in a crowd was awful...it was like being the Jews in the basement at the beginning of "Inglorious Basterds" (am I going to hell for that comment? What? I'm already going? Okay). The best part is, Tim and I freaked out everytime we saw them and I'm sure everytime they saw us they were like "Hey, it's those guys that were in traffic behind us. They seem pretty nice."

After miles and miles of country back roads we finally got to the entrance. Pulling up, one of the Bonnaroo staff asked us if we had any illegal materials in our car. We both said no and realized we were probably the only people there that could have honestly said "no" to that question (who says being an alcoholic isn't honorable?).

Once we arrived at our parking/camping spot we sent up the tent (which I'm proud to say covered our area, a good portion of the people to our left's area and almost 3/4 of the people to our right's area; that may sound bad but I read in prison you need to immediately display your dominance....that and my tent is badass).

With our Four Seasons of a tent set up, Tim and I sat out on our front porch (yes, the tent has a front porch...also the tent's name is Cougar! Ha! I should probably set it up outside of Jimmy Porter's one night) and had a beer. Then we had another beer. Had another beer. Had a Long Island Iced Tea. Had another beer. Debated between another beer or a road beer, before settling on both, and then headed out into the wild world of Bonnaroo.

And this is what I recall.

• Lots of girls walked around topless the whole time. But none of them were attractive. That is so not Raven.
  
• Best live act: Jay-Z. I don't like rap and I was sober and it was freaking amazing. His two hour set went by in what felt like half an hour.
  
• 2nd best live acts : Local Natives, the National, Stevie Wonder.


• Best song: Weezer did a combination cover of MGMT's "Kids" and "Poker Face" by Gaga; it shouldn't have worked but it did.


• I discovered that one of my superpowers [the others being drunk-speed and Wolverine-style fast-healing (as displayed by my speedy recovery from the body injuries sustained as a result of Free Vodka Hour at Rock Bar)] is the ability to get through any crowd to the front of the stage. I'm the Michael Jordon of crowd-navigating. And I'm not a one weekend wonder in this department; I've showcased it at Downs after Dark and Forecastle Fest....hire me...it will cost you one beer an hour.
  
• I also discovered Tim has a slight fear of horses, which (in addition to being flat out hilarious) lead to this conversation

Me: "I wonder what it was like when the first human being decided to get on top of a horse."

Tim: "Yeah. 'Hey, there's a wild animal....let's go jump on it."

Me: "I kinda want a time machine just so I can go back in time and see that."

• Which led to this conversation, and by conversation I mean I talked out loud and Tim may or may not have been paying attention.

Me: "That would be a kickass show. Me going back in time and seeing stuff for the first time. Me going back and seeing the first time someone got on a horse. Or me going back and finding the first white guy to put his hair into dreadlocks."

Tim: "And then you punch him."

Me: "Hahaha. Me going back in time and punching people who do things for the first time. Best show ever."

• Since it takes me a long time to get drunk my weapon of choice over that weekend was the Long Island Iced Tea, which Tim and I agreed would make another cool go back in time episode to see how the first Long Island Iced Tea was invented. Because it had to have been a guy with vodka, rum, gin, tequila, and coke, wondering what to make before saying "ah fuck it" and throwing them all into one cup. I salute that man.


• This one time...at the beer tent, Tim bought two beers for me and him and I did the same accidentally. We double fisted them and then proceeded to drink in this manner the rest of Bonnaroo.


• Kings of Leon and Flaming Lips (covering Dark Side of the Moon - hell yeah!) were playing on the same night. While pregaming for Kings, Tim and I got in an argument about who the villian should be in the next Batman. We kept arguing and drinking when, from a distance, we heard Kings starting their set. We never did make it but I don't really regret it (accept for when I heard them do the cover for that Pixies song in "Fight Club" which sounded amazing). I can see Kings live whenever I want, but the times Tim and I can bullshit about movies while drinking in Tennessee is probably limited to seven times. And yes, we made if for Flaming Lips and they were awesome (aside from Wayne Coyne's cliche political rantings which he says verbatim at every Lips show I've seen; I guess all his creativeness just went to music and not political ranting).
• One day I survived off only Long Island Iced Teas and Gyros.


• We brought a box of Franzia and then forgot about it. The week after I remembered we had it the whole time and relayed me disappointment to Tim who said "miffmurray@gmail.com: we could lose a whole day to slaping a bag of chilled wine, walking around campgrounds." Next year, Bonnaroo, next year...


• The night of the Kid Cudi concert is arguably the greatest tragedy ever. I won't repeat what happened but it involved a blonde Canadian, a puddle, Tim and I almost dying, and Gyros. It's like the Hamlet of sad music festival stories.


• Bonnaroo ended with Dave Matthews Band. How awful is that? I have nothing against Mr. Matthews, his music was awesome to make out to in the back of cars in high school, but to end Bonnaroo?! That's like ending your honeymoon with a handjob. A long....drawn out....painful....hand job.

In conclusion, Bonnaroo shouldn't have been fun for me (I hate live music, humidity, hippies, and not showering three times a day) but I had an amazing time. I think getting out of your comfort zone every now and then can be therapeutic and fun (that's why Bear Grylls is always happy). Also, having Tim Murray and a GINORMOUS (that's an actual word that means big enough to fit two dead hookers into) cooler stocked with booze helps, too.

This February when they announce the lineup for Bonnaroo 2011 I'll start recruiting more people to go because it was amazing. And because Tim and I need to use our experience from this year's to make next year's even better.

Like after Tim pointed out we could have played slap the bag with the Franzia:

me: "WHY DIDNT WE THINK TO DO THAT! be one of the top ten regrets of my life"

tim: "hahahaaaa this was our bonnaroo trial run think of it that way"

me: "bonnaroo begins"

tim: "yes"

me: "next year: the dark weekend"

tim: "thats a bingo"

2011 Bonnaroo can't come fast enough.

Blog Begins

Well I'm not one for introductions, so I'll be mercifully brief. The whole blog thing might be "so-2006" and adding yet another blog might be like opening a fast food restaurant in Texas (there's already too many, just makes people fat, makes the rest of the world hate America even more), but I digress. I have a brain (or so I've been told), a big mouth, tons of opinions and a unique perspective on life, not to mention a group of friends who have provided me with a wealth of hilarious stories full of mischief, drama, and all around epicness. So rather than repeat a story, opinion, or life lesson to my friends I can now simply point to this blog. What's the worst that can happen? People can know my stance on Avatar, Twilight, and Dave Matthews sucking. What's the best that can happen? My half serious, half silly, completely amused approach to life and love will make me the male Carrie Bradshaw....only more clever and with a face that doesn't look like Eight Belle's after she faceplanted into the turf.

Also, a head's up to my friends. This thing is definitely going to make me pull the Barney Stinson "haven't you been reading my blog?" comment an average of 2.7 times a week. Don't hate me.