Sucky Summer Cinema

Sex and the City: the story of four women and their pet horse.
-Numerous clever fucks

Advisory: If your date wants to see "The Human Centipede", have a long talk with yourself about who this person really is.

-Roger Ebert

There aren't a lot of great summer movies for you to choose from this year. What you have to ask yourself is this: "How much I want to puke my pants at the movies?" You have to know analyze your taste in film and ask yourself which is more effective for this purpose. *Slight spoiler alert*

Will it be:

A. Watching an Asian man defecate into a woman's mouth, or

B. looking at Sarah Jessica Parker's face for 146 minutes?

If you chose A, go see The Human Centipede and seek therapy if you enjoy it.

If you chose B, go see Sex and the City 2, but do make sure you have a female escort unless you want your ass kicked. By me.

Disclaimer: I had the opportunity to see The Human Centipede in theatres and I loved it. I will not take my own advice and seek therapy because I would most definitely be prescribed medication that mellow my ability to hate sufficiently to write my blog. Cheers!

Secret Life of the American Victim of Abstinence-Only Education

Look out, ABC Family, Anniehilation is looking your way.

I'm not going to lie to you, I missed most of the second season. However, I was fortunate enough to see all its events montage-ed in the first episode of the third season. As soon as I have seen the most recent episode (302) I will be kind enough to provide a thought-provoking post about it.

Keeping You a Secret

I know it's not Anniehilation's job to rag on anything she dislikes. I'm here to rag on stupid things that everyone else likes. So why, then, am I going to review the Julie Anne Peters young adult novel Keeping You a Secret when we all know that most of the 13-18 year old crowd lacks the ability to read? Answer: To show just how much reverence people can have for a poorly written book. (I know that Twilight is the first thing that came to your mind, but that series has given me far too much material to organize for publication right now.)

Let's begin with judging a book by its cover. A blue image of a girls head leaning on a shoulder - the other face is mostly out of the frame but the lips that we can see definitely look like those of a girl. The tagline reads "Is it worth falling in love if you have to keep it a secret?" I was like, okay Peter, I'll bite. But was it worth reading this piece of shit to find out? Not really. But I'll be polite enough to indicate that this is where the *spoiler alerts* start just in case any of my readers feel like putting themselves through this.

Our main character's name is Holland Jaeger, and that is the only cool thing about this book. (Then again, if that's not a name that gives off the almost the same feeling as Aryan Nation, I don't know what is.) As we get to know Holland, we learn that she swims for her high school team, doesn't like having sex with her boyfriend but fulfills her obligations, is applying to Ivy League schools, and is not a likeable character in the least. Nobody in this entire book is likeable. The first thing that Holland did to piss me off was refer to her stepsister as a walking freakshow because she's "into Goth right now, which is just sick after Columbine." I sincerely hoped, for the author's sake, that it was the character who was this naive and not the author herself.

Anyway, guess what? Our all-American protagonist Netherlands Jaegermeister starts to get all tingly about Cece, the new girl at school! Here is the passage of realization, the entire inner struggle, that you get from the book that's been so applauded for its realism.

Ms. Fielding, in German class. I was so in love with her. I used to pretend I needed help so I could stay after school. She wasn't gay, I don't think. Just beautiful. And Leah. God. I had a torrid crush on Leah in sixth grade . . . My pulse quickened. Was I? Gay, I mean? If so, what was I doing with Seth? Maybe I was bi. That would explain it. An open heart, willing to give and accept love wherever it came from. The feelings, the stirrings, the awakening senses with Cece, though, I'd never experienced those with Seth. With any guy.

So how long did it take you read that paragraph? That, according to Julie Anne Peters, is exactly how long it takes to figure out you're gay. Did you notice how she even went through the intermediate bisexual stage before she went over to the dark side completely? That must be the realistic part. And since when does internal monologue sound like that? I can't quite remember the last time I thought to myself, "Am I? Hideous, I mean." Sorry, I just think the girl who is accepted to Stanford later in the book could have thought patterns a bit more coherent.

So moving on to Amsterdam Weinerschnitzel's girlfriend, well, she's a bitch. Cece has just transferred from a different school for "health reasons" - her health was endangered by all the gay bashers at her old school, you see. So instead of keeping things on the downlow and trying to get through the rest of school without dying, she wears a different lesbian-themed t-shirt every day and tries to start a GLBT club at school. To be clear, this isn't the part I hate about her. It's actually kind of noble. The thing is, when she's told her only chance to have her club at school is to make it a non-discriminatory Gay-Straight Alliance, she says no. According to Cece, straight people can't possibly understand the real issues. That's a pretty cunty thing to say when you're asking for acceptance.

So how does their relationship go down? Well, after Cece demands that the relationship be kept a secret for Holland's sake, it takes them about a minute and a half to fall "so unabashedly in love." Nothing about how different it is to have sex with a girl, no worries about who gets to wear the pants in the relationship, no feelings at all really. Why was Peters in such a damn hurry writing this book, I wonder? Now I know that some people believe that the gays don't really love each other and are just satisfying their perverted urges, but you will change your mind after you read Cece's profession.

"No, I only get up at the butt-crack of dawn so I can pretend we're having breakfast together at our lockers. I don't even have a seven o' clock class, you know. I dropped it after the first day . . . Then I have to haul ass down three flights of stairs to pass you in the hall between third and fourth period. And I stall around outside the restroom by the art studio so I can watch you walking down the hall. I'm late to algebra every day . . . I drive by Children's Cottage after school to see if you're there yet, to see if I can catch a glimpse of you in the window. I go by your house on the way to school. Sometimes from the library, I'd watch you guys leave for lunch. A couple of times I even followed you so I could maybe find out what you liked to eat." [hint: it's pussy.]

Look, if any young adults are out there, please listen to me. I don't care who says this to you, whether it's your brand new gay lover or a sparkly vampire or the guy you met on Craigslist. The appropriate response is running and possibly calling the cops, not swooning.

The secret love doesn't last long, obviously. Soon, Holland is outed to everyone at school, and those who hate her for it out her to her own mother. The important thing to know about Mama Jaeger is that her parents disowned her when she got pregnant in high school. Having vowed to give her daughter a better life, she attempts to beat the shit out of Holland and throws her out on her ass upon finding out that she's a lesbian. The whole situation is a little bit surreal though. I don't know many people who, if their mother was asking in a very serious and angry way whether or not you're dating someone of the same sex and sleeping with said person, would respond, "Well, actually, [*smirk*] we don't get a lot of sleep." I'm sure that helped her case. To make things even more confusing, Mrs. Jaeger is in the middle of frosting a cake when she confronts Holland. We never find out why. Holland wonders whose birthday it is, but she never finds out. Is this some kind of meaningful juxtaposition of the happiness of cakery and raging homophobia? I've seen the Ace of Cakes get pretty stressed over a deadline, but I have never seen someone frost a cake angrily. Where was I? Oh yeah. Holland has to move into a shelter for abandoned gays.

The best part is when homeless Windmill ThirdReich has to give up all her dreams now that her mother won't so much as look at her. She registers for community college just after finding out that she was accepted to Stanford, and begins working two jobs just to support herself. But I guess we're supposed to infer that it's all worth it or something because she's found love.

I am not saying that the book should have ended happily. Things like this do indeed happen, so I suppose that's where the realism comes from. But when it comes down to it, there's really no closure. Holland's life sucks, and it doesn't even necessarily suck for love. It sucks for the sake of a stalky high school girlfriend who she's known for two or three months.

If this book exists to teach gay teens anything, it's this: Don't come out until you're independent. Shit will get way too real. Be terrified of people's reactions.

So hopefully Peters wasn't trying for, "Be yourself no matter what!"

Chasing Cars? More like chasing down a better grasp on the English language.

Take a listen to this bullshit. Just the chorus will do for the point I'm about to make.







The fundamental problem here is that the vocalist asks a hypothetical question about what would happen if he was to "lay here" but never states what object he intends to lay. Certainly he is not implying that he means to recline somewhere, intransitively. Because you know, then he'd say "if I just lie here." Curiously, he asks the person to whom this song is devoted if he or she would lie with him! I really do not understand how it can be possible to make this mistake once, and to correct oneself in the same sentence. Was the writer in a lyrical race, questioning which verb was correct and using both in an attempt to get half credit or something? If so, this would be the result (click to enlarge):

The Second Short Life of Bree Tanner

Stephenie Meyer will never give up.

Steph has written exactly five books thus far: one entitled The Host and the four epics of the Twilight series. Every time some socially awkward and/or braindead teen girl goes out and buys one of these paperback monstrosities, she [unknowingly?] makes a donation to the Jesus Christ Church of Latter-Day Saints. I'm not entirely sure what that means, but hopefully for Steph these saints are so latter that she'll be able to get canonized after the Breaking Dawn comes out - 10% of the profits from all the Twilight bullshit should keep all the Prop 8's and Prop 1's of the U.S. strong for years! Thanks Steph!

Anyway, on to the reason Anniehilation's hatred for Smeyer has flared up this week: The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner. I saw an ad for this in the window and Border's and thought, huh, she's writing another book. Maybe it'll have a plot and not suck so hard this time. And then I read the subtitle: an Eclipse novella. I really didn't know she could sink this low. Steph's first attempt at exploiting how incredibly stupid her disciples are was Midnight Sun, which is Twilight from Edward's perspective instead of Bella's. Seriously, she thought her fans were so dense they'd want to read the exact same book over again. (She was right.) Anyway, it was never formally published because one of her trusted beta readers posted it online. Her second attempt is basically the same damn thing, replace Twilight with Eclipse and Edward with Bree. There's nothing wrong with whoring out your creative gold for fan service, particularly if it's going to keep your income nice and steady. God forbid Steph try anything new, it might not be as well received.

Oh, that or she doesn't have an original thought in her head. At least The Tales of Beedle the Bard and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them were metafiction written under pseudonyms. Not Tom Riddle’s fucking first-person orphan sob story.

Don't worry, Twitards, it doesn't have to ever end. I assume that immediately after you've all grown tired of the Bree Tanner book, film, broadway musical, and theme park, there will be something else on the shelves. Perhaps we could do New Moon from Alice’s perspective, revealing her hardcore lesbian crush on Bella, or Bella’s entire childhood narrated by her mother! Maybe I can ghostwrite what it was like to suck so many delicate little teenage necks from Carlisle’s point of view. Actually, everyone should read that one. Sounds like it’d answer a lot of questions.