Why I Will Not Be Seeing "The Losers"

(Editor's note: If you haven't noticed already, I - like others - at times have strong, one-sided opinions on things I have no idea about. We all do, but at the same time we are all entitled, as long as we realize this fact. It makes us comfortable. It validates something, I guess. Naturally, most everything stated here is based on opinion and experience. I've never let anything get to the point of personal insult, and believe that in normal circumstances as long this unspoken rule is applied, anyone should be allowed a rant. That said, feel free to continue, and as always please take anything I say with a grain of salt.)

I have so far seen a few films this year that I thoroughly enjoyed - and by "thoroughly enjoyed" I mean that I didn't want to get up and walk around as a result of being antsy and irritated. I'm honestly not the biggest movie person you'll ever meet, but I pick potential favorites like I pick a pair of shoes or someone to get to know better - show me something good and (while never guaranteed) it's possible I'll buy. Favorites I have - Donnie Darko, Fight Club, Eraserhead, Little Miss Sunshine, Coraline and others - just don't ask me to be excited over, I don't know, Hot Tub Time Machine. I won't write it off completely but likely will enough to rent it eventually. There are still a number of films that I intend on seeing this year but as it has stood since I was last a hopeless doting fangirl, unless I expressly show interest I will likely want to do something else.

Therefore, as mentioned, I will not be seeing The Losers, the most obvious reason quite possibly being the trailer. Because of it I've already seen the best parts of the movie, and don't find it logical to spend $15 on a plot I'm no longer interested in seeing unfold. Also, like Wanted before it (the Fight Club rip-off that it is), I honestly can't believe that someone of Zoe Saldana's stature can kick ass in the way that she's supposed to - just like I couldn't believe Angelina Jolie's stunts. Both actresses are effing beautiful, have appealing figures and dirty mouths; I get that - that didn't keep me from laughing so hard during the latter film. I remember having received complaints from the neighbors. I share the same sentiment for Saldana as I did for Jolie: just have sex with the lead already and be done with it.

Aside from the fact that it looks super contrived and unnecessarily over-stylized (advertising is everything), the biggest reason I will not be seeing The Losers - at least in the theater - is because, well, I'd much rather throw my money towards one of these, or perhaps these. I really want new pedals and grips for my bike. Hell, I'd like a bowl of matzoh-ball soup from Greenblatt's or to get either my rook or daith pierced. You know what I'm saying? Any of the aforementioned is likely to be far more pleasurable an experience than sitting through a two-hour bleh-fest. The threat of a kick in the teeth would probably produce more adrenaline. Different strokes for different folks, I guess - and that's all I have to say about that.

I Like It Rough

Sunday morning I woke up just after noon feeling super sore. Sore toes, sore calves, sore knees... sore thighs, hips and waist. Sore shoulders, arms, forearms, wrists and jaw. No, I hadn't gone on a bicycle ride, or worked out (with the exception of a 5-mile run earlier in the day). I certainly didn't meet anyone special. Rather it was the collective result of a typical Saturday night involving friends, much laughter, and a pair of lace-up leather heels. Choose your own adventure, much?

Which brings me to the pain, the type that was very reminiscent of intense weekend bicycle rides that, admittedly, I haven't partaken in for quite some time. It's been hard getting people together and coinciding schedules, but to be honest there's no excuse not to get out there on my own. In training for next year's LA Marathon (I believe in taking my time), I've been running and building muscle, getting used to the good, deserving type of pain that requires a clench of the jaw, controlled breathing, and a deep stretch before bed. But there's nothing like the good pain of a long bicycle ride.

Although I haven't done so in a while, I enjoy that (with enough water and the right pair of Novara padded shorts) I can hop on and go for hours. I intend to do a 35-50-mile ride this weekend, and this is the event I'll be partaking in this June. Only 70 miles. Eventually I'll work my way up to 100.

I'd totally quote Madonna's "I'm Breathless" right now, but that might be toeing the line a little more than I originally intended.

It's A $in

I'm not a fan of Ke$ha - not a real fan, anyway. I actually think aside from her hair, she has a very unkempt look and perhaps I could get an STD just looking at her. What a horrible thing to say, yes, but what can I tell you? She's grody. However, a few days ago I downloaded two of her singles - "Tik Tok" and "Blah Blah Blah", the former after its constant assault on the radio; the latter after watching Kevin of The Kevin and Bean Morning Show on KROQ's parody of just how effing ridiculous she is. And she is. I am not denying that fact.

I write music reviews and feature bands on semi-regular basis - schedule permitting - and as a result am open to new things. A lot of new things, however, sound the same, and Ke$ha is no exception. She's going for an edgy sound that falls short tremendously, causing everyone to write her off as delusional. Perhaps that's her goal? I've streamed the rest of her album Animal elsewhere, and it just gets worse... with the exception of "Backstabber". I don't know what to tell you, but as buzzed-in-the-club music, it works to a degree. Can you tell how confused I am?

That said, the two previously mentioned singles are great walking music - and I walk a lot. It's not necessarily dance music, but it's icky pop, and I don't know what to tell you (yes, I'm aware this is the third time I'm using this phrase) - the tempo for each song is about the same and the songs are so full of air that I can't put any lasting thought into dissecting them. I can't help but smile at how silly it all is, and what "talent" is now defined as. At the same time, her persona reminds me of the Facebook photos of some girls I knew and wanted to be when I was younger. Let's just say that the grass is dry and brown on the other side as far as I'm concerned. Ugh. Greasy hot mess.

Ke$ha needs to stay in the studio and never come out. (Some people might object to the first portion of that statement, but I digress.) If she were some faceless individual I might be able to tolerate what she and her people are going for, but the fact that she comes out trying to be an actual performer is what's sad and embarrassing. The troll belongs under the bridge. And that's all I have to say about that.

Haven't I Seen You Somewhere Before?

I've been taking the bus somewhat regularly for the past twelve years, starting when I got my first job as a student aide at age thirteen (previously mentioned in this post). Initially my mother would take me to work, but she understandably got tired of driving the ten or so miles - which I found interesting because she pushed me to apply for the job in the first place, but I digress. Long story short, for the benefit of both parties she taught me how to take the bus. She told me which one to take and at what time. She also told me to have a book handy if in the event that I got bored. The most invaluable piece of advice she gave was that I not draw undue attention to myself or talk to strangers. I took this as an opportunity to observe the hell out of who came through the doors at nearly every stop. This I could do. This I did, happily.

I grew familiar with a number of people in my first year on the bus: the older gentleman of about ninety with the jet black hair, the big n' tall woman who sometimes smelled of chicken noodle soup. One particular day in winter, however, a man came on the bus that I would never forget. His head was bald, his face shaven, the corners of his mouth soft and drooping. He was all dressed in dark blue save for a pair of brown shoes spotted with age. He carried a big rolling bin draped in a black plastic bag with a Linus-blue blanket on top of it. The handle had duct tape wrapped around and through it. That wasn't enough, of course - he wore a pair of yellow goggle glasses that literally magnified his eyes to the size of silver dollars. That day he stood in front of me, grabbed onto the bar overhead for balance and inadvertently or otherwise proceeded to bore out my soul as he towered over me. I was already tired and cold that morning, but at that moment, I quickly became frightened for my life.

Over the years we would see each other again - he would board the bus, and I would sit further away from the front, where he generally liked to sit or stand. This guy and I probably shared a space every day for the next five years thanks to that East-West bus each morning.

Fast forward another six years to 2010 (read: this morning) and to my taking a North-South bus as part of a regular commute. Who should I see board the bus just like it was yesterday? Creepy Mangnify-Eye Guy, that's who, except for one difference - he was wearing a khaki green hat. Still had the rolling bin. Still shaven, eyes still big as saucers. He could afford to be cleaner, but at least he looks healthy. Actually, he hasn't aged a bit. Perhaps he's Death.

What? You were expecting more?

A Pedestrian's Review of Kick-Ass (contains pseudo-spoilers)

I saw Kick-Ass last night.

A lot of critics said that what really bothered them about the film was the fact that young people/children were shown killing relentlessly, and at a few points were being beaten to a pulp. To be completely honest, neither of those things bothered me. Aaron Johnson (Kick-Ass/Dave Lizewski) and Chloë Grace Moretz (Hit Girl/Mindy Macready) handled their roles like pros. Seriously, everyone and their mother knows Moretz killed it. She's amazing. And no matter what anyone says, Johnson was great in his role. Of course it helps that I find him insanely attractive (those lips!; that hair!; those eyes!), but I digress.

So yeah, it wasn't the shootings through-the-skull/out-the-chin that bothered me, or somewhat watching a guy be microwaved to death (although, as a friend noted, I jumped at the blast). It wasn't Hit Girl calling the bad guys see-you-next-Tuesdays. It wasn't even Frank D'Amico (Mark Strong) later kicking the shizznit out of her that bothered me. Before I continue, I need to explain that I'm not an advocate of crass language or overt violence, but rather find it can be "appropriate" when "in context" (as "appropriate" or "in context" as one can get). I thoroughly enjoyed 300, Kill Bill Vol. 1 and 2, Sin City, Gangster No. 1, and all other such clever, bad-ass, blood-laden films. Don't dare ask me why. Don't criticize the directors, producers and screenwriters as to why. Do consider the R rating.

That said, there were two things that rattled me, at least longer than they probably were supposed to. One scene involved Nicolas Cage. The other involved a hit-and-run. Both scenes were painful to watch, but I'll leave it to your own devices to figure out which one bothered me more.

Rating: 9.75 out of 10

From the View of the Street, Part Two

In addition to riding my bicycle, I utilize public transportation to get around, whether for responsibility or leisure. Sadly, Los Angeles doesn't have the most reliable or available or service, but for what it is, it's okay. I've been taking the bus regularly since I was thirteen - to school and to a part-time job with the LAUSD - so there's something to be said about its overall impact on my life. For instance, if people ask me how to get from Point A to Point B, I like that I can list off a few lines going in their direction. I like knowing this information myself. I also like the relative freedom of hopping on, taking a seat, and getting where I need to go.

For all the "no muss, no fuss" experiences I've had, there have been some serious "WTF?!" moments as well. This entry will cover some patrons' habits that - while extraordinarily general - fall in the middle. That fact, however, doesn't make them any less annoying and discourteous.

My biggest observational peeve involves those who take the outermost seat in each row of two seats. This I can understand if the bus is empty, but even then I don't really. Perhaps it's just preference, but I'd rather sit by the window so that should someone take a seat next to me, (a) I don't have to slide over and/or (b) they don't have to crawl over me. Which brings up another point - if you're not comfortable with being surrounded by people, then you might want to get a car. If you find yourself taking public transportation in Los Angeles for as many years as I have, you will inevitably experience having someone's crotch in your face, and it won't be mutual.

Pulling the cord for a stop shouldn't be complicated, but I can understand if you've forgotten your stop was coming up and you yank the thing with an unintended force. Realize, however, that pulling it once is all that's necessary. There are these flashing signs on the trains/buses now that say STOP REQUESTED, and for some reason in between flashes some patrons re-yank the cord with just as much gusto, sometimes causing the thing to break. I have been on buses before where the cord legitimately didn't work before, so at times it's justified - but in that case, a little "Driver, next stop, please" works just fine. And if he/she doesn't listen/didn't hear you, an impassioned "STOP!" never hurts either. I guess that's why they installed those red STOP buttons on the newer buses now. They got tired of people yelling at them.

I realize that we now live in a modern age where men don't have to necessarily be chivalrous, as in giving up their seats for women, women/men with children/shopping bags or the elderly - but I'm a 25-year-old woman who will give her seat up for a man who looks like he's 60. I will gladly stand unless he says no. My point is that it should be common courtesy to think of others. I guess that's what this whole thing is about, actually. Sometimes I admit to being a little aloof - either I've had a really crappy day or my iPod is turned up a little too loud - but it's rare that I miss out on an opportunity to make someone's moment a bit easier. It's my little give and take with the universe, what can I say?

To be continued...

From the View of the Street

(Editor's note: I am writing this during the early hours of Tuesday morning and I have not yet gone to bed; therefore, it is still Monday in my mind. Forgive any references to "today" or "yesterday" as Monday and Sunday, respectively, as technically they will be one day behind.)

(That said, this is not an anti-car blog, neither is this an anti-car entry. I have owned two cars in the past, and one of these days life might result in my getting another car; I still have a driver's license in case of emergencies - I just believe that people sometimes forget how much control they actually have. Ironically, it has taken being a pedestrian and cyclist for me to realize that. These are observations on ridiculously haphazard driving habits that are considered by some to be normal. As BikeSnobNYC has so eloquently said, "idiots travel by foot, car, and bicycle"; rest assured that I have plenty of material lined up for the "foot" and "bicycle" portions, which will soon follow. Thank you for your understanding. Without further ado:)

Traffic-wise, the last two days have been particularly adventurous. Sunday brought the rain, while today threatened rain but instead brought pockets of unexpected traffic not abnormal in the West Valley[-ish area]. I'm not exactly certain what it is about either situation that brings the worst of driving habits out of people. While somewhat influenced by outward elements such as slick roads or too many cars, there is a degree of selfishness and disregard that seems to compete for being the utmost reason behind such habits. (Seriously, someone should make a bumper sticker that says something to the effect of "One a$$hole decision, a lifetime in traffic.") For example, it seemed during the last couple of days that most drivers were either not looking both ways (for other cars, pedestrians, or cyclists), were cutting in front of other cars, speeding towards stop signs (leaving skid marks and smelling of rubber), or trailing behind left-turning cars well after the opposing light had turned green. It was almost as if their inner jerk hadn't seen the sun for a while and was making up for lost time.

I appreciate being observant when it comes to driving trends and habits as much as I don't because it tends to anger me. Actually, what tends to anger me as much as frighten is when I see indicating factors that a car accident has ended on the sidewalk, not on the road - already horrible in itself. I recently saw one of those new bus benches - thick, ridiculously heavy beige plastic - smashed to pieces, bent, and broken. The middle seat was nowhere to be found. Now, I understand that life or the universe or God (or whatever) allows what eventually happens to happen (and should the worst happen we have to deal the best we can [if we survive]) - but when it boils down to it, we have a say as to whether the decisions we make are for the better of all or for the better of our need to get somewhere a little faster. That said, I'm so glad that I wasn't sitting on that bus bench. Blood belongs in the body, not on the pavement.

Cars are machines. They can be efficient modes of transportation, or they can be weapons. I have a feeling that if more people really and truly realized the power source behind the operating mechanisms (read: the general you) we would see a sizable percentage decrease in what are considered relatively avoidable accidents. Let's face it: such accidents are as much a result of oversight or being in the wrong place at the wrong time as they are a result of being a f#$!%ing jerk. The sooner the latter is realized and dealt with, perhaps more accidents can be avoided.

To be continued...