Millennials are like ants. We may be classified as “small” players because we’re still finding our footing in the professional world. Our paychecks are generally smaller, our Netflix binges are generally longer, and within some demographics we have a reputation as self-absorbed children who would rather get high and drink away our parents money than form serious opinions about economic issues. But ants find power in numbers. Much like a swarm of ants can literally consume a living person as they flail helplessly (at least that’s what they do in jungle-themed horror flicks) so can we “narcissistic youths” make a difference.
The millennial vote is a priceless commodity. With elections coming up, I’ve put together a list of 5 stratagems guaranteed to get 20-somethings to the polls. For the sake of morality, I shall assume that neither party will claim these election-winning incentives as their own. But then, that might just be my Gen Y naiveté.
Nothing makes a party like some really sweet favors. Stuff reusable shopping bags with enviable booty, like Reese's Cups, condoms, and tiny bottles of liqueur. Advertise this incentive on every social media platform and dole out one bag per voter. Anyone who’s anyone will make it a point to be there, and to share their swag selfies via Snap-story.
Win a Day with Beyoncé
With all due respect, who’s really calling the shots around here? If the options are the Commander in Chief vs Queen Bey, I don’t think any politician wants to hear the answer. Because she’s universally adored, raffling off a chance to spend the day with this feminist force is guaranteed to up poll attendance. Sweeten the honey pot by adding specific activities on the itinerary. Since the “Feeling Myself” video dropped, all any of us want to do is eat a burger while linking elbows with the Global Empress.
Twice the Tweetage
There’s no stronger punch to the gut than the realization that your witty, perfectly worded tweet comes in at 150-some characters. We millennials are all too familiar with the red-zone woes. Strike a deal with Twitter and give every voter a coupon code to up their character-allowance to 280. Two times the tweet power, especially if it lasts the full four years, will make a bigger difference than you’d think.
Dock the Shipped
At the risk of inciting a bloodbath, here’s the strategy most likely to pit party against party. Shipping, as I have oft-explained to my parents and older relations, is the act of rooting for a relationship. These relationships can be between actual people or, more often, between fictional characters. Shipping can be viscerally upsetting, especially when a show or movie refuses to give you a happy ending or even a taste of contentment. If, say, the showrunner of Sherlock agreed to finally unite Holmes and Molly Hooper pending a certain turnout at the polls, I would likely drive shuttles between retirement homes and voting stations myself. The obvious issue that could arise would be showrunners guaranteeing results only in the case of victory for one candidate or the other. While millennials are intelligent and logical, fandoms are united by passion. The passion of the fandom is a beautiful thing, but also a dangerous force. We do not, I repeat, DO NOT want to set the Whovians against the GoT addicts. United we stand, divided we LARP a little too aggressively.
The Pizza Party
I estimate that 98% of college graduates have studied Pavlov’s dogs, so most of us recognize that conditioning is a powerful thing. In elementary, middle, even high schools across the country, one incentive has proved its worth time and time again: The Pizza Party. For Gen Y, The Pizza Party is a source of joy and nostalgia. It was a reason to complete summer reading challenges, to sell the most wrapping paper for the holiday fundraiser, and to collect the most box tops. Today, The Pizza Party can be raffled off at each individual voting location or be shared with all attendees as their post-polling treat. Either way, just hearing that phrase in all its delicious alliteration is sure to trigger a Pavlovian response.
Viva La Pizza Party, viva la USA.
***photo from the fab Gabrielle Cuadra***
When Kayla is not making art, Kayla feels very much like a husk-person. Luckily, she currently has a not-so-secret project in the works! While it’s not a totally hush-hush operation, there hasn’t been any concrete form of hinting at the project just yet. So here we go with the hint, hint, hint.
Prepare, ye multi-media-ophiles! This project has everything! I wish that Stefon was here to reiterate the everything that this project has! Music! Music Videos! Comedy! Comedy Music Videos! References to Tinder and dorm sex and drunk eating and Elizabethan English and more drunk eating and maybe even puppets!
Simplified, and with less exclamation: We are working on a comedy album. Most of the songs will debut in the form of ridiculous music videos. Eventually, we will drop a full, downloadable EP. I’ve written some of the songs, some were pitched and penned by my collaborators, and all of them boast high-quality hilarity.
THE BEST TEAM
You know the sports-movie trope where a rag-tag team is formed of unskilled misfits? My team is exactly the opposite of that. My team-building process was essentially just me Facebook Messaging the most talented vocalist I know, and then the most talented musicians and composers that I know, and them agreeing to join up without any sort of resistance. So that’s anticlimactic, I suppose, but it also means that we know this thing is gonna rock! Really, I’m probably the weakest link on my own team. But that’s OK, because when you’re the HBIC, you get to DWYW. (Also I just said that out loud and it’s way clunkier when spoken, goddamn double u’s! I’m just trying to DoWhatIWant!)
Most of the songs have already been written. For me, “written” does not necessarily mean that they have melodies, just that they're glorified poems. This is because I'm not a music magician. Thankfully, I have a team of real music magicians, so it’s all going to be ok. We are currently in the orchestration phase. Between the end of August and the beginning of September, both audio and video recordings will be made. So when can you expect to see some of these labor-fruits? Possibly in Sept, month of my birth, and definitely at least 1 or 2 videos by the end of October!!!
Is this still mysterious enough? Did I do a good job of keeping the enticement enticing? HOPEFULLY! Check back, keep up with the bloggings, and you will remain on the forefront of my artistic movements, I promise ye that!
I’ve taken care not to edit this too much, so that you get the whole, raw, sleep-deprived experience! Unedited sleepy hahas, a new brand of stream-of-consciousness eloquence...
1:47 AM - I’ve arrived home from my play’s (the play that I wrote’s) after-party. In the last few hours I’ve said, “Goodbye for quite a while,” to two of my favorite people OH MY GOD A THOUSAND LEGGER JUST RAN ACROSS THE CHAIR NEXT TO ME, everything I believe in has been a lie, I’ll never sleep again!
Ok, so I’ve always told myself that they don’t like furniture so they’ll stay away from my bed at night. Ugh. Sorry, I’m just panicking because EVERYTHING is a lie. Anyways, I said bye to two amazing friends, saw my show for the last time, and have been left with many feels. I also dropped ½ a cupcake’s worth of icing into my lap! So I'm doing great! And I'm now waiting as long as I can bear before calling Uber, trying desperately not to cave and unpack my laptop to pass the time. That’s right, this is totally being written out longhand.
2:03 AM - Standing in the biggest open space in my apt, eyes to the ground. Playing Everything-Is-Lava is like, the most anxiety I’ve had all day. And earlier tonight I convinced myself that my recent mental cloud is the symptom of a looming life-threatening disease.
2:07 AM - I may actually call the Uber soon because the tyrant Tyrannosaurus-sized bug is skeeving me out. But then, my flight isn’t till 5:30 AM.
2:10 AM - Ubers might be hard to get much later at night. I’ll at least wait till 2:30…
2:13 AM - Standing is OK. It gives me a reason to do my shoulder-unrounding yoga stance.
3:54 AM - Guess what you can’t get at an airport at 3:45 AM? FUCKING ANYTHING THAT’S WHAT! Even McDonald’s has failed me. I long for coffee and warm food, like, they might as well be the elixir of life and a food item so good that its actually better than sex.
Anyways, here are some things that I saw on the trek to Terminal B27, NOT including the various grate-enclosed breakfast establishments: a ginormous T-Rex skeleton (ooooh a natural theme is occurring in this text!). A realistic statue of a football player adjacent to one of a colonial dude.
I also had to take one of those airport subways to get here, the kind with a row of seats at each side. A family claimed each bench area and only myself and a hot dude (around age 27) stood in the middle of the car. Each of us a single traveler, this move seemed to highlight our youth, our strength, and our general virility. If all the world outside this airport was destroyed in the next hour, this alignment of action would certainly determine that we together, we should repopulate the planet. We are the alphas, we who choose to stand without even touching the standing-poles while the tram moves along. Plus, there aren’t many options for repopulation in a place this abandoned.
4:11 AM - I hope my dystopian boyfriend has a fun name, like Peeta, or Gayle. The other Hunger Games dude is Gayle, right? Thor’s brother?
4:12 AM - Changed my mind, I hope his name is Oprah. Maybe with dystopian spelling. Ohpra.
4:13 AM - Kaynya? Kayma? Mayla?
4:17 AM - It is a little depressing that my potential mate was wearing a backwards baseball cap and a tie-dye tank top. Like he was dressed by a middle school boy who pines after the LAX BRO lifestyle.
4:20 AM - There are no flight attendants/employees of the airline at this gate. They probs hide until the coffee is made available.
4:25 AM - If the world ends before the food places are un-grated, I have selected the man that we shall consume first. Never before this moment have I creeped on the tenderness of a grown man’s legs before. It’s like trying to catch a peek at a Victorian ankle. How silly most of their cargo shorts are!
4:35 AM - It's been over 45 minutes since I’ve seen Ohpra. May the odds be ever in his favor. Also most grown men have the saddest calves.
4:42 AM - The pilot just sat next to me. He is incredibly tall and silver-haired. He has the demeanor of a man who can calmly solve any situation. If someone goes into labor on this flight, I bet dolla dolla bills that he’ll the one to deliver the child.
4:45 AM - AN EMPLOYEE JUST PASSED W/A STYROFOAM CUP OF COFFEE!!!! From whence hast thou came, bitch? There’s something they aren’t telling us!
4:48 AM - BRUEGGER’S HAS OPENED.
5:16 AM - I just ate a breakfast sandwich that quelled my soul. Sausage, egg, and cheese, all toasted in a bagel. I sat outside of Brueggers and consumed the whole thing in 3 minutes (yes, I timed it) because my flight was about to board. I’m now on a very claustrophobic plane and I’m the happiest I've ever been because Coconut Coffee is being funneled into my mouth. Ohpra and I shall declare the Brueggers to be the holy ground of our airport colony. It is good to be Alpha.
5:22 AM - A voiceover just told us that passengers are not permitted to congregate at any time during the flight. And here I was, really into this being a cool, cult-like experience.
5:33 AM - I know full well how ridiculous this sounds, but I was just forced into first class. I tried to stay back because my bag was stowed above me, but the attendant just said, "It'll be safe." Yeah, I didn't doubt that. But I have less than one hour to transfer flights when we touch down and now my belongings are in two separate overhead compartments...Here we go adventure?
5:36 AM - I also have no effin’ idea what to do with this plastic wrapped blanket so I'm filling up that spare first-class-room by stuffing it into the seat next to me.
5:41 AM - Not only am I in first class, I'm first ROW, so I keep accidentally making eye contact with the flight attendant who is sitting directly in front of me, facing the rest of us.
5:46 AM - Welp, I'm drinking water from a stemless wine glass and I got a fancy pants meal bar. I also tried to make like one iota of conversation with the elderly man next to me but that's a bust. Someone's a grumpy grandpa...
5:50 AM - Opened my "Fig Bar." It is literally two biggish, drier versions of Fig Newtons.
5:55 AM - It's like a Fig Newton where the breading is infused with birdseed.
5:59 AM - I have not heard old man say one nice thing to the flight attendant. He could at least manage a thank you.
6:15 AM - The ACs in first class are so powerful that their hissing literally drowns out any in-flight announcements.
6:22 AM - As the plane works on landing, I must accept that my time with Ohpra is past. It can be hard to accept when a relationship becomes impractical, especially when you're as invested as I was in him. He had really solid scruff after all, and I'm at an age where patchy kid-fuzz just no longer cuts it. I shall never forget you, Ohpra.
6:29 AM - We’ve landed. Grumps has grabbed his bag and is standing directly in front of the attendant while we all wait for the doors to open. Never have I wanted to strike an old-timer this much. He just deserves a wallop.
6:39 AM - Cheerful me to a boy wearing a Pitt Lacrosse shirt, "Are you at Pitt right now?" He, with all the sass and disgust a teen boy can muster, "No."
6:48 AM - Another shuttle. I stand amongst the poles again. Too bad this shuttle is not the place to pick up my next co-dictator...
6:50 AM - The realization that you've had this same red lipstick on for 12 straight hours.
6:51 AM - After re-evaluation, there is actually one acceptable source of genes-a-la-shuttle, though of the two of us, he would be the Beta. That's fine with me. Ours shall be a matriarchy.
6:55 AM - Apparently my next flight is so obscure that they had to bus us away AND my gate is a combination of three gates. There is one bathroom in the whole terminal. And when you’re traveling alone and carrying-on, using the bathroom is a special level of Hell.
7:06 AM - Caved. Wrestled my luggage through a bathroom break. My, how lovely to look in the mirror after all these hours.
7:55 AM - Riding the clouds in the smallest plane OW MOTHER EFFER my ears just popped! But f’real this thing is teeny and that is not the safest feeling thing to me. Additionally, I'm fucking DEAD.
8:09 AM - I have ordered coffee from the hostess and am trying not to pull my hair out by the root or wail uncontrollably while my insides self-destruct. Oh, fountain of life, wash me clean and free from bullsh!
8:16 AM - The coffee has come and I feel as though I might cry from relief. The adorable little girl next to me is drinking apple juice with ice cubes in it. Her family is from Utah, which seems like a different country right now.
8:24 AM - It feels like all my facial tissue is dead. I do not know how to proceed, as I had put my faith in the goddess, Caffeine. Wow. Caffeine is a pretty pretty name.
8:37 AM - Stuck in descent and there are so many things that I'd like to do. Use a bathroom, but only without all the baggage drama. Lie down and sleep forever, because my body is so tired of sitting that I could cry. Also, I'd just like to eat the hardiest meal. Like stew by Hamburger Helper or my Grandma's Mac and Cheese.
9:13 AM - Out of the furnace and into the inferno, I've gotten picked up and now I get to drive for like another hour!!!
9:19 AM - Dad says, "Oh, we have water in the car!" *drive for five minutes* "Dad, can I have some water?" "Oh, it's all locked in the trapdoor under your seat." Mom smiles, "It's like Gringott's!"
10:34 AM - I've been informed that we cannot go for food until noon. I had breakfast at 4:55. Plus that fucking "Fig Bar" an hour later. At this moment, it seems like I haven’t consumed nutrients in decades. My body is running off reserves, essentially all the alcohol and Nutella that I've consumed over the years, the stuff that refuses to leave my insides. Perhaps I can forage outside the restaurant while we wait for the rest of the family. Some berries, mustard greens, or an older man's leftovers. I may be tired but I can still bat my eyes. In fact, I'm sure that kind of gesture would be terrifying as I'm this pale, bloodshot, and sporting under eye bags worthy of their own caddies.
12:18 PM - Kayla tries to order a cheeseburger, because that's all in the world that she wants, but the family is having that for dinner. She panic-orders an omelet instead. A fucking omelet. That's like, Pterodactyl food.
12:37 PM - Rico says, "This is my special, fancy plate. There are many like it, but this one is mine" *Kayla slowly extends a pointer finger and presses it down in the center of the plate* *Rico looks completely dumbfounded for several seconds and then yells* "ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?!?"
3:04 PM - It is so so hot and we have been locked out of the beach house because it has to be cleaned. Hiding in an ice cream shop now, and looking about as sweaty and disgusting as possible. Zombiesque, but no rest shall come yet.
3:33 PM - Update: My cousin Drew is the best human I know. Literally, I will try to arrange his wedding like he was my own grandson. I plan to carry his picture in my wallet to show it to eligible singles once he is of marrying age.
6:05 PM - FINALLY I am in pajamas, drinking wine, ready to eat burgers and artisanal key-lime pie. Fighting to get all of this typed up, struggling with my charger, and having my cousin, Gabe (now entering grade 9) proclaim, “What is that? A laptop charger from the 70’s?” I look forward to the sleep and the week away, and more importantly, I survived. The circles under my eyes may tell a different story, but I actually think I’m doing ok.
Hopefully I will actually recharge here...we shall see.
I recently got my first tattoo and am itching for a second. Because I've spent most of my human existence not hiding under a rock, I have heard the phrase “Think about will that look like in 50 years!” Unsurprisingly, I have a counter-argument! I argue that being the kind of person who casts judgement on other people’s body modifications will have far more jarring repercussions than a little ink ever could.
Bitchery does not age well. Let’s dive in, shall we?
The Mouth-Pursing Grimace
Ah, the weird half-pucker of half-repressed disapproval. This move is also commonly enacted by some of the older generation when they witness something scandalous, like a same sex couple holding hands in public. But oh, how those lip-crinkles will wrinkle. In 50 years that thing will be more wrinkly than your bum-hole. And, if you’re somehow unaware of this, your bum-hole is all wrinkles.
The Furrow-&-Scowl of Irrational Fury
Every person exacts their judgement differently. Possibly the least-sensical form of judgement is the rage some people feel about things that have nothing to do with them. There’s just so much passion inside them, passion that can attach itself easily to any issue! I’ve recently seen this expression when certain humans get super irate about Caitlyn Jenner being called brave. Well, in 50 years, this much misplaced anger will result in something worse than Resting Bitch Face. You’ll reach a new level of RBF: Resting Bulldog Face. Drooping and denting in all the least attractive places, this fate proves that it’s truly impossible to hide who you are on the inside.
The Head-Cock of Condescension
After years of tilting your cranium’s weight to one side, it will start to lean on it’s own. We’re talking cartilage wear and tear, a total posture implosion, and, eventually, the possibility of you getting stuck that way. With enough muscular atrophy, anything is possible! A word of kindness, because that’s the point of this whole damn list: if you’re stuck in that limp, asymmetrical state, make sure not to shave your head or wear a rain jacket. Ever. You’ll instantly look like a walking case of whiskey dick. Hilarious for everyone but you, assuming you’ve spent the last 50 years shitting on them from your high horse.
Yes, I know, all of this might be hard to hear. And no, it was not delivered in the nicest possible way, but then I was always the kid in pre-K who beat up the bullies. Regardless, I hope that think twice the next time you feel that jonesin' to judge. It hurts you more than it hurts them.
Don’t be a dick, cause that scowl can stick.
***background photo copyright timies_art***
My first encounter with Amy Schumer came about two years ago. We were introduced by my father. I was on a break from school, where we only watched internet TV, and my dad told me he'd seen commercials for a new show he thought I’d like: Inside Amy Schumer. At this point I had discovered my love of screenwriting. I was gearing up to shoot my first short film and my parents had pretty much accepted the struggle and financial hell would be (currently is) my future (my life) as a starving artist. They accepted me for who I am and the kind of comedy that I strive to make: full of unapologetically in your face moments, uncomfortable real-life situations, and, ideally, many opportunities for me to eat on camera while not wearing pants. Thus my dad realized, only from a commercial or two, that Amy was someone I needed to watch.
This past Saturday, my dear friend Mike Zolovich and I went to see Trainwreck. We laughed voraciously for 90% of the film, fell head-over-heels for Bill Hader, and left full of that buzzing excitement that overtakes theatre kids when they experience good art. As we left, Mike explained his surprise at the movie's raunch-factor. He was totally unfamiliar with Schumer’s comedy and had expected Bridesmaids-style humor. After all, so many of the funny women we love tend to make work with a unified tone. (We're regular attendants at the altars of Fey, Poehler, Kaling, and Wiig, #bowdownbitches). Schumer’s brand of comedy is different, which has resulted in reviewers losing their minds across the board.
At this point we all understand the whole Hollywood-Boys-Club thing. We also understand that countless female writers, directors, and actresses are proving that kind of male domination to be a bunch of bullshit. We live in a world where it’s still newsworthy for a woman to write a box office smash that isn’t classified as a “chick movie.” And now here’s Trainwreck, written by a badass chick whose sense of humor is anything but lady-like. This film is just as raunchy as Superbad or any Rogen/Franco collaboration. Its cringeworthy-sexual-encounters can hold their own against those of any film in Netflix’s “Late Night Comedy” category. But I think we’re beyond being surprised that a woman’s script can swing that way, aren’t we?
The most amazing thing about Trainwreck isn’t that it fits this genre, it’s that it fucking destroys it. Yes, it is raunchy as hell, full of moments that make your insides recoil with empathetic pain, but it ALSO makes you have all of the emotions. Literally all of them. I wanted to hug the shit out of John Cena. My insides melted when Amy cried over her nephew’s Minecraft drawing. And that funeral speech? That was real-world beautiful. No so-called Late Night Comedy has ever gotten me that close to tears.
This review isn’t about gender equality. Schumer just stepped into a genre that has been carved out by men, a boy’s club within the boys club, and did it better than I've ever seen it done. There’s equality and then there’s superiority. The fact that this superior party happens to also be a powerful lady is just icing on the cake.
Thanks for the inspiration, Amy. I’ll think of you next time I’m in front of the camera holding a bag of wine, sporting smeared makeup, and, probably, without pants.
They may be funny, but these are functions I would seriously love to have at my disposal.
The Spastic Last Minute Wave
Really, why does the Facebook Poke exist? I have all of one person (Madam Kristen Ottens) who I poke-exchange with once in a while as a way of saying hello. That makes me smile. But literally EVERY other poke I’ve received has been creepy as hell. The Spastic Last Minute Wave would have a similar design, plus an actual purpose! You know when you see someone on the street, but too late to wave? And then you try to wave but it’s more of a flail, and they don’t even see the flail so it’s doubly uncomfortable? With this button you can let that acquaintance know that you saw them and in no way meant to snub them, all without the embarrassment of spasming into the abyss.
The Food Filter
The internet is a dangerous place to explore when you are nauseous. Whether you’ve had too much to drink or accidentally consumed a whole jar of peanut butter in front of your laptop, this filter will erase all food-related imagery from the page. This adblock-esque function is all about preventing the upchuck, and who doesn’t want to avoid the consequences of their shitty American eating habits? When I down a tub of icing because I “just can’t even,” I prefer to forget the damage done ASAP. This application should be adapted for Pinterest and Instagram as well.
The “Dude That Sucks” Button
I think that if every post had a dislike button, Facebook would become an even cattier place. However, when someone says that their dog died or that they lost all of their hair in a freak bleaching incident, you should have a way to show wordless solidarity. The Like button becomes a treacherous gray area in such cases. With the “Dude That Sucks” button, the poster could check a box that reads something like, “Does this thing suck?” If so, the site could tally something more appropriate than raised thumbs. Perhaps those slanty-frowning faces, shirtless pics of Ryan Gosling, or chocolate bar emojis.
Buy You A Drank
You can now securely send people money via Facebook Messenger. Why? Who knows. But this opens the door to all kinds of monetary misadventures! After a rough day, and me whining incessantly about it to my dad via FB Messenger, I would appreciate it if he bought me a drink. One problem: my family is far far away, nestled in Lancaster county. With the Buy You A Drank function, my dad could click a button and send me a drink coin. I could then take my phone to any participating bar, a real in-person one with real in-person liquor, and redeem the gift. It’s a comforting gesture that can bridge any distance!
The Bigot Bye-Bye
Hey, if Siri can correct Caitlyn’s pronouns (as incorrectly stated by the close-minded drones of the world) then a program could automatically clean out your friend list, right? I know I’m not alone in deleting FB acquaintances because they post something homophobic or transphobic. Wouldn't it be nice if I could click a button and have all the offending parties rounded up in one fail swoop? This is obviously the most difficult of my ideas to engineer, but I have faith in the coders. Plus, you can always scan through the list of names before accepting, “Are you sure you want to say bye-bye to these bigots?”
So, Facebook, consider this post my copyright. We can discuss my consulting fee later.
As a writer, I'm hypercritical of TV and film scripts. I have many of standards for my Netflix obsessions. I watch shows that are decidedly feminist, both in their percentage of female characters and in their undertones and themes. I prefer shows that celebration all of humankind. Diverse, global works that feature characters of every sexual preference and gender identity. Lastly, I need to feel something. I want to see meaningful reflections on what it means to be a human, things that are surprising yet uber-relatable. It can be as visceral as Viola Davis removing her makeup on How to Get Away With Murder, or as hilarious as Michael Bluth burning away a small fortune because he can’t communicate with his father. In the banana stand. Goddamnit.
The following are 5 of my favorite new Netflix-ready series. Please note that I know my subject matter. Post grad life offers a lot of spare time for internet TV.
Grace and Frankie
This show has been available since May 8. I watched all of it within 48 hours and am already considering going back for seconds. In the first episode, Grace and Frankie’s husbands leave the women so that they can get married. To each other. The show follows Grace and Frankie, who really despise each other at the beginning, through depression, temporary insanity, and their healing, unlikely relationship. The storylines of their children are really enticing, all the performances are bow-down-bitches worthy, and Lily Tomlin’s Frankie is the woman I want to be when I grow up. Also the yam farmer...damn. This show is hilarious, heartwarming, and hopefully getting a second season.
This suspenseful sci-fi show takes a while to get really warmed up. Prepare for the first
2 - 4 episodes to be more confusing than illuminating. I consider that part of the show’s charm. Additionally, this is the most global series that I’ve ever seen. The 8 main characters live scattered across the globe. They speak in many languages, showcase their many nations, and yet, are all connected on a fundamental level. This connection, and what it says about the connection between all human beings, is the theme of the show. Sense8 will give you all the feels. Shoutout to my fave character, Hernando, whose wit and unbelievable ability to throw shade are as perfectly pointed as his jaw line.
Thank you, my dear friend Charles Kronk. You have given me such a gift. If ye readers enjoy campy, ridiculous humor, prepare for a treat. This ragtag international team of agents sets out every episode with the same goal: kill Hitler. I guarantee this is unlike any other WWII period piece you’ve seen. Season 1’s Pierre is the light of my life. One caveat: I HATED the second season. Mostly because I was constantly disappointed in the ways that it shifted from the first season. Still, season 1 is a gift to us all.
Agents of Shield
I avoided this one for a long time, mostly because I love superhero movies and I thought that this series would be a cheap knockoff. The thing that changed my mind? Joss Whedon. I only discovered Whedon’s work in the last year and I’ve never been disappointed. This show is funny and smart, but has the kind of shocking twists that Whedon is known for. I was legitimately surprised by so many plotlines. The relationships in this one really kept me watching. Just wait, you’ll be rooting for the scientists to "shut up and kiss already" with a level of screen-screaming usually reserved for World Cup Soccer. Plus, two seasons!
Here’s a throwback, and another example of my love for Joss Whedon. Another sci-fi show that packs a healthy heap of mystery. This one centers around a secret laboratory/human farm. At least, that’s what it seems to be in the beginning. Buffy fans will recognize the leading lady, Echo, as Eliza Dushku a.k.a. Faith. There are tons of well-choreographed fight scenes, a super-versatile cast, and obviously, because Whedon, twists out the wazoo. Again, a 2 season show of which I immensely prefer the first season.
So that’s my breakdown! I hope you found something new to binge, or maybe even a few things. Check back soon for my thoughts and feels on Amy Schumer’s Trainwreck!
In under one month, I will be moving out of my Pittsburgh apartment and entering the transitional purgatory that is living with the parents. The following photo sums up how I feel about that.
In my pursuit of a starving artist future, I have decided to freelance as a "day job." The quotations are important because I will probably end up doing most of that work between the hours of 1 a.m. and 6 a.m. I could pretend that I prefer that late-night silence, but really I'm just an insomniac.
Freelancers are supposed to have blogs, so here we are. Luckily, I think that this will be fun and I'll mostly be writing goofy, off-the cuff shit. And yes, there will be profanity. And yes, there will be TMI. This is just the way of my world. I will not pretend to be a manicured, perfect specimen of femininity (a concept which I have hella issues with anyways) and you can simply not read if that is a problem for you.
I hope that at least one of you out there on the web will appreciate the weirdness that's yet to ensue. Just one is enough for me, so long as they aren't a stalker, because I'd prefer that I'm the only one who gets to wear this skin suit.
Let's make some content.
-- Film-Maker --