I got news, comrades. I’m branching out. Or, well, I’ve been branching out. I’ll explain:
Julius Bloop, of Julius Bloop.com, asked me a while ago to write grumps for his comedy site.
“But I already write reviews, man. I got my own blog thing. You’ve seen it,” I explained. As he tried to retort, he tipped his martini glass too far and an olive dropped in my lap.
“I know, good shir, but thish shite is a comedy shite,” he slurred between hiccups. “Show you sshould write reviewsh of comedy moviesh onlyy.” He took a moment to belch, and I sat there thinking, rolling the estranged olive between my thumb and forefinger. I wasn’t sure if he was drunk or doing a poor Sean Connery.
Well, it couldn’t hurt, I thought. I can always link to them from Grump Factory. Each time I post a review on Bloop I can make a post here, alerting the common folk to its existence. A sort of symbiotic relationship, as it were.
I shook Mr. Bloop’s gloved hand in agreement, surprised to find his fingers bare. (Surely, the gent must have gloves with the fingers still attached somewhere.) After wiping the excess grease from our handshake on my handkerchief, I stood, dropped the oliva back in his drink, tipped my hat and took my leave of the establishment. Judging from the discordant music and screaming of the manager behind me, Mr. Bloopfound the place’s piano. I hurried my pace.
And that brings us to the present. His site recently relaunched with a fresh new coat of paint, along with my latest Comedy Grump available to read there – The Hangover.
It’s sort of a mystery movie. We don’t see the fun night in Vegas, we see the aftermath, when the friends are left with a bunch of baffling questions – where’d this baby come from? Where did their friend disappear to? Why are there guys shooting at them?
The movie stays fresh as your favorite muffin as they try to recount their night, discovering new leads and clues in their pockets and along their path of drunken destruction. Plot threads and gags get introduced constantly. It’s like a dumbass investigation movie. If Old School is the stupid, frat boy version of Fight Club, Hangover is the stupid, drunk version of Memento.