Posts Tagged ‘costco’

Smallville blues

Friday, 21 March 2008

I’m trying like hell to stay interested in Smallville because I love the Superman mythos but I’m only fooling myself, the show is a fucking travesty.

Due partially to 2008 being one big Kryptonite enema for me, I’ve missed the last 4 or so episodes and would have missed tonight’s had I not bothered on a whim to poke around the worthless CW website (watch full episodes of CW shows! But only the crap ones)!

I don’t know how dead fucking Jor-El keeps meddling all the way to the point he can strip superpowers away like God, or why this same omnipotent ghost-in-the-machine can’t/won’t do anything to stop Clark’s many foes (at least 3 have actually been in the Fortress so far). Why can’t Ghost Jor-El ever explain to Clark what the fuck is going on?   Because a more complex plot would require good writing, and the lazy, sloppy hacks are content to simply drag things out while violating the logic of the Superman universe.

The last ep I saw was the one where Jor-El punishes Clark via Kara/Stuporgirl (the UNstacked blonde), inflicting her with amnesia and beaming her to Detroit, a plot twist even I found tacky and subtly racist. Oh look, a pretty blonde White woman be lost on deh mean streets of Motown! YOU KNOW WHERE YOU ARE? YOU’RE IN THE JUNGLE BABY!

While away I’ve also missed key moments like the return of Pete, who drove into town solely to pimp Stride gum.

Later Chloe and Lana hop into Chloe’s impossibly clean and detailed car (commercial) and drive away. I wouldn’t mind these in-show ads (a la Truman Show) except a) they’re badly blatant and distracting and B) unlike the Truman Show concept, there are still regular commercial breaks.

The cheap CW motherfuckers are also skimping on the effects…we’re lucky to get a minute of action per episode anymore.

If you look at the numbers, Smallville peaked in its second season, when it was Smallville High and everyone was still young enough to look like a teen at age 24 and there was always a reason for a girl to be in a bikini or cheerleader outfit and the plots were simple Freak-of-the-Week fun. As the show progressed they knew it wouldn’t last, yet when the time came to deliver More, the shit writers seemed to have been caught completely unprepared. More likely, they just didn’t give a shit.

I don’t know if this is the final season of Smallville. I believe so; if not it should be. Both Welling and Rosenbaum seem tired, with a fullness of face signaling the arrival of early middle age.

Some day, if I’m still alive, I’ll end up dropping a hundred at Costco for Smallville: the Complete Series. It’s sad that I want them to get it over with rather than celebrate what was a great idea in its prime. Smallville fans (I’m the only one I know) and the Man of Steel deserve better.

Niacin nitwit

Tuesday, 4 December 2007

I woke up early for having a day off.

Two hours later at the gym my neck and arms felt like they were on fire. I could literally feel my blood “boiling” in a human version of Pon Farr. Only Mr. Spock had it worse, experiencing the same intense burning + extreme horniness.

I wasn’t horny and anyway there was nothing around to fuck, so I kept working out, first the treadmill then the weights. Plenty of energy throughout but something was seriously wrong.

In the car I started itching like a motherfuck on top of the fiery heat; fortunately it was confined to only a few areas as I raced home and did the second worse thing you can do for the itch after exercising, take a shower.

As the water crashed down, doing nothing for my burning scalp, chest and arms, I realized it was the niacin, normally taken at night with no problems. Now during the day I was feeling the fury of a fully armed and operational niacin flush.

I went on-line to find a “cure”. The flush is actually good thing for cholesterol but the agony screamed otherwise.

I hopped back in the car and zoomed to Costco for the giant offset walk-in chamber for fresh produce they keep near-frozen. I flashed my membership card and hauled ass for the back of the warehouse, stopping only to eat free samples of soup, tortellinis, sorbet, crab, Bagel Bites, mashed potatoes and more crab.

The itching was mostly gone by the time I entered the cold room. My fiery bloodshot eyes felt soothed by the sight of sleeping broccoli, blueberries and carrots…I imagined the itching sensation fading as icy air from the high-above ceiling washed over my skin. I walked around slowly so my skin would slice against cold air.

Fucking niacin!

I stared in bitterness at the needle of the friendly round-faced thermometer, “frozen” at 40 degrees, so much better than the warm December afternoon in fucked-Florida outside.

Nothing ever worked properly, everything had to be fucked up. It was the law.

I left Costco with a single item: a bottle of vitamins.