We’ve Been Watching A Lot Of Documentaries Lately…

… and I’m not sure why.

Maybe Netflix is starting to get more lame than usual. I mean they just took Planes, Trains, and Automobiles off the Instant Streaming – just how in the shit am I supposed to watch it at least once a week now?

Really I think it’s that we go in cycles as to what kinds of movies we watch. Sometimes we go for marathon cartoon shows, like the Simpsons. Twenty episodes in one day and all that. Other times we go for scary movies or funny movies. Or new ones.

I should mention that we don’t watch regular television at all, with the exception of sports, so it’s either movies, On Demand, or Netflix…

Or nothing. Often it’s nothing.

ANYWHO, so we’ve been watching a lot of documentaries lately. And I’m not sure why. And all of them have a little bit of weirdness to them.

Here are the three we’ve watched this weekend:

Mansome

My husband and I watched Mansome Saturday night. Of course anything Morgan Spurlock and/or Jason Bateman is going to be a necessary win, though it was a little horrifying in and of itself in content.

I mean it was all about men and their grooming practices. And their balls.

It also prompted me to look up Jason Bateman on Wikipedia. You know, while I was sitting there next to my husband. I wanted to know if Bateman was in fact “happily” married. You know, while I was sitting there next to my husband…

So he is. And I didn’t realize that his older sister was the one that played Malory on Family Ties. No shit, right? Well I clicked on her Wikipedia page and BOY… does she look awful now. The 80s and Family Ties and show business really did a number on her…

Back to Mansome. So the best parts of this film were when they interviewed this total weirdo with a really long, red beard. Which was totally different in color than the hair on his head, I might add. He won some European beard contest – a little weird to travel across the world to participate in, but whatever gets you going.

And I should mention that – sure – he was all up on taking care of his beard, but in the scene that showed him getting in his car we learned that he wasn’t quite as enthusiastic about taking care of his car.

I’m saying his car was a total piece of shit. Maybe not relevant, but maybe it is. I mean if a guy is worried so much about his beard but not his mode of transportation…

The other completely off-the-hook part was when they showed the product creator and the focus group for this product called Fresh Balls. Basically it’s a gel that men rub on their junk to stop chafing and “batwings” (which I had no idea existed until watching this highly educational film).

And I suppose close seconds in terms of “greatest parts” of the film were when this totally closeted gay guy has his eyebrows threaded to remove five rogue hairs (he called himself metrosexual … I mean, who does that?); and, when the professional wrestler has his friend shave his ass with an electric razor.

Talking Heads: Stop Making Sense

This afternoon, my husband decided he was going to force all of us to sit down in front of the television and watch this.

He said it would be an experience. That it would be a musical experience we all should appreciate.

Now I can appreciate the nostalgia of remembering a few of the songs. And I can appreciate the aesthetics of the post-punk, avant garde era that made up the Talking Heads of the 80s.

But after a while it just got old. Very, very old. And could that bass player be any more doped out, in her 80s pantsuit that had its own wings? Obviously not batwings, because she didn’t (I don’t think) have testicles; but wings flapping out the side of her pants that just made me think of the whole batwings thing. Then I laughed out loud and my husband got mad.

Thanks a lot. Bitch.

At a certain point in the whole charade going on in this concert film, the tall, skinny, lanky, wiggly guy that is the lead singer just randomly started running around the stage like a complete moron. I’ve never seen anything like that before in my life – he just started jogging. Then sprinting. Then jogging a little bit more. Then at a point he got on the ground and sang while dry-humping the air. Then he went back on another jog around the stage.

It was just too bizarre for words.

Microcosmos

Finally, this evening, I was bored and we had nothing else to do but vegetate like broccoli. So I decided we would turn on another documentary.

Because you know. The others weren’t enough for the weekend, or anything.

I decided on Microcosmos for no reason other than I was seriously fucking tired of scrolling through the Netflix que. For those of you that do not know of it, this is a French documentary that utilized miniature cameras and specialized microphones to film bugs.

Insects. You get it? Fucking tiny little bugs. Spiders and flies and shit.

Here were my responses:

“Those caterpillars are complete morons.”

“Bees can seriously kiss my ass.”

“Jesus, could those snails suck face any harder? Need to get some Barry White up in there.”

“I think I have eaten one of those beetles on accident.”

“Hey look it’s like the 405 [freeway] only with bugs.”

“What’s so scary about those things is they’re fucking ugly.”

“That’s not a salamander, that’s an underwater dinosaur.”

“Wow look at that bird eat those ants… it’s like a trip to Hometown Buffet!”

“Is it weird this movie is making me hungry?”

So I highly recommend that you guys check out these movies. I’m not sure why. Probably because after all this poking fun and making random commentary I’m afraid of the legal ramifications by the filmmakers. Just kidding, I actually think you should watch them. If anything, for a good laugh.

Now here’s Snail Beauty, or as I like to call it Two Snails Get Busy.

All I Want For Christmas Is An Animal Carcass

hipster-taxidermy

Is that weird? I think it might be.

I keep seeing all these commercials about what men should get their wives for Christmas. Get her diamonds, they say. Get her a kitchen appliance, they condescend. Get her gift cards to the mall, they suggest (as if I wouldn’t spend all my husband’s money at the mall anyway).

I want none of those, though. I want an animal carcass.

For a few years now I’ve been on this organic, nature-y decorating kick. Two years ago on our anniversary I got my husband to buy me a set of moose antlers, which are now covered in leaves and sitting on my bookcase. I made a ‘birds on a wire’ decal to put around our kitchen window. I even got a breakfast table that had iron branches and birds for table legs.

Don’t mistake this for me being into the outdoors, though. I fucking hate the outdoors. I’m allergic to pretty much everything. In fact, I can’t even walk to the laundry room without sneezing. I’m also easily terrified by things in the wild – birds, possibly poisoning plants, bugs. I’ll never forget that one time at Girl Scout camp when we had to use a rope to climb up a relatively small hill and I was so horrified by everything we climbed through that I vowed to never enter the woods again.

And besides those few times in high school (which compromised my Proud to be a Dare Graduate t-shirt, as well as my virginity), I’ve stayed out of them since.

So it isn’t about loving nature. It’s also not about loving animals. I think animals are so gross. First and foremost, they piss and shit. Sure, all living beings do but not typically on my carpet or bed or hand. The majority of them are out to murder people and each other and shit too. Survival of the fittest and all that, right?

Not to mention that if I actually loved animals, it wouldn’t be shown by hanging their large carcasses and various body parts in and around my home. I’m also not really an animal murderer, per se, either; for Christ’s sakes, I was a vegetarian for six years.

You faithful blog followers are probably asking yourself now just why? Why the animals? Why the nature? Why the carcass?

I have three, very specific reasons why I am really into decorating my apartment with animals and nature shit now, and why I want to complete our home with a large animal head or carcass, mounted on my bedroom wall.

#1 Animal and nature decor provides topic for conversation

It should be no surprise for me to describe myself as a little misanthropic. That’s actually putting it really, really nicely. I fucking hate people. I hate having to put on a smile and fake pleasantries with people that I know are not always pleasant. And I hate having to figure out small talk topics with people that either (a) have no brain to speak of, or (b) think they are better than me, for whatever reason they think that.

Having a piece of an animal hanging around provides ample conversation topics. So does bizarre, nature-themed decoration.

#2 Body parts of deceased animals implies I own guns

I don’t own guns. I wouldn’t ever allow them in our home. But I still would love to scare the shit out of people that might be interested in stealing and/or attacking me.

Say robbers walk into my house. They see body parts everywhere. Taxidermy on the wall. Antlers on the bookcase. They trip over my snake-skinned ottoman. This implies that were they to get caught, they’d also get shot and wind up with the same fate as the many animals that adorn my home. It also totally deters them from attempting to kidnap or rape any of us, because who knows? I may be sleeping with the guns I probably killed all those animals with. Or what if I murdered those animals with my bare hands and a knife, that I happen to keep strapped to my leg at all times?

There are so many implications that come with a house full of dead animals.

#3 Possibility for permanent chastity

What could be a bigger turn-off to Poor Nick than having a large animal staring down at him? Judging him for those awkward thirty seconds. Questioning him. Implying that he is less virile than the dead animal on the wall.

Having kids changes your sex life, but not permanently. And my razor-lined chastity belt always comes with the risk to my own hoo-ha.

But the head or entire carcass of an animal – any animal – would serve as two wins for this lady. It would complete the organic, nature-y feel I’ve been going for in our apartment, for years now. And it would provide permanent chastity.

So who’s going to call Poor Nick and tell him to get this lady the carcass of an animal? Or maybe just a head. I’ll take any animal, really. Zebra. Lion. Bear. Deer. I’d even take a minx.