Magic Mike Was... Well... Magical!

*SPOILER FREE*

I can't actually write a true review of Magic Mike tonight because my head is still spinning and I can't seem to get this goofy grin off my face long enough to really sit back and think about what I actually thought of the movie.

Let's just say Channing Tatum has come a long way from this...

Ice, Ice Baby...

To giving stripping advice to David Letterman...

Am I the only one who can't stop staring at his crotch? I think I'm waiting for it to do some tricks.

I've never been to a movie with so much hootin' and hollerin' and clapping -- bunch of dirty 'ol women! And I'm pretty sure at one point I was laughing so hard, I did my best Jenny Jerkface snort. If you've already seen the movie, you'll know what I mean when I say that I can't wait for the DVD and the pause button.

Did you make it out to see Magic Mike this weekend? If so, what did you think? Please no spoilers for our friends who haven't seen it yet... I'll be putting together a more comprehensive review when my brain returns to my head after spending most of tonight in my pants.

PS. I want to thank whoever called me in the middle of the movie while my phone was on vibrate. In my lap. 

The Great Outdoors

As a kid, my parents took us camping nearly every summer growing up. We got to sleep in tents, cook over an open fire and pretty much run amok in the woods like the little wild hellions my brother and I were. I loved everything about it, right down to the bugs (except that time in Chincoteague Island with the swarms of black flies. That shit SUCKED.) I was one with nature.

 I'm the smaller boy.

While my love of sleeping in tents and enjoying the beauty of nature has not changed, actually doing it kind of has. It wasn't that I grew out of it, exactly. It was just that as I got older, I started to realize a thing or two.

Well, one, really. Out in the woods, opposable thumbs and a smart mouth did not secure my spot of number #1 in the Top of the Food Chain hierarchy. I suppose my dawning sense of mortality combined with a few frightening bear encounters pretty much made me think that perhaps sleeping in a nylon sack with glorified bendy straws for poles isn't exactly... "safe".

 Quite possibly one of my biggest fears...

Not that this has stopped me from doing it, of course. Every once in awhile stupidity wins out, like that time I thought it was perfectly reasonable to be wandering around Chinatown at two in the morning. Drunk. By myself.

That being said, ML and I are heading up to the Finger Lakes next month to spend a week in the woods with some friends. However, we're not doing the nylon sack and bendy-straw-poles thing this time, because we're grown-ups and there's just not enough room for all the booze we plan on bringing. This time, we're playing it classy and rented a house. On a lake.

On a lake. Oh. Fuck.

Fuck it. I'm not leaving the house.

If there is one type of the place where the human ranking plummets when it comes to Top of the Food Chain, it's bodies of water. For example, oceans may be beautiful but those waves are just a rhythmic Siren's call of death. Who knows what the fuck lurks under that murky water?

I do. My bloated, blue-lipped demise, that's what.

Not only are there all sorts of things that could potentially eat my limbs off, like sharks and the Loch Ness Monster, there are also a shit load of other things that will sting the ever loving fuck out of you or bite you and make your skin fall off in sheets or something.

Aww, look it's so cute-- OMG IT'S EATING MY FACE!!! I'm staying in the house. 

Plus, you can't do basic things in the water that I really, really like to do, like breathing. I don't know about you, but that's fucking important shit to me. I like taking breaths and not having my lungs fill up with water.

Even worse?

Bathing suits. Mother fucking ego-crushing bathing suits. I'm not sure what's worse, wearing a bathing suit or having a lunch date with Jaws.

You brought a snack...

Needless to say, I will still be jumping into that lake with all my fingers and toes crossed that there isn't a giant elusive squid eagerly awaiting to suck out my brain the moment my head goes under.

Because there is absolutely no way can I look like a scared little pussy in my front of my friends. As always, pride is an amazing and powerful motivator for me.

What are your secret (or not-so-secret) fears when it comes to Mother Nature?

A Magician Who Makes Clothes Disappear

Let's get it out in the open right now -- I'm going to see Magic Mike this weekend. And I'm ridiculously excited about it. Seriously, I don't even give a shit if there's a story to this movie, I'm going to see some half-naked, mouth-wateringly hot-ass guys.

At first, I felt ashamed that I wanted so badly to see this movie on the big screen. I mean, let's not mince words -- Channing Tatum ain't exactly Oscar material. But his abs, I think his abs are Oscar-Emmy-Tony-CMA-MTV Award worthy and then some. It should just be downright illegal for Channing to ever be allowed to wear a shirt. Ever. Even where the sign says "No Shirt. No Shoes. No Service."

Hey, your collar seems to be missing its shirt.

But it's not even Mr. Tatum (who at one point looks like he's wearing a nice frosty pink lip stick in the trailer) that I'm most excited to see hopefully more than half-naked and grinding it up on stage. Nope. I'm looking forward to Joe Manganiello -- Mr.-True-Blood-Uber-Manly-Wolf-Dude who makes my lady bits do Olympic-worthy tumbling. And I'm never about the Wolf, I always want the vamp so you know this canine is some fucking hot.

Oh gawd... the fireman's uniform. *dies*

Yeah, yeah... there's a few other pretties gracing the screen that I'm sure will be to your liking. Alex Pettyfer looks purty yummy but he makes me feel a wee bit like a dirty ol' woman since he's so young. I can actually say I'm old enough to be his mother. Gross.

Grrrrr... why you so young, pretty one?

Then there's Matthew McConaughey looking, well, like he always does, just a little older and very shiny. Not that this has anything to do with this post, but can Matthew do any other accent besides that southern drawl? Whatevs. I'll still stare at his nicely formed pectoral muscles.

Cowboy hat. Original. Oh hello, pectorals.

So without further ado... and more babbling from me about all the pretty men, take a gander at the trailer for Magic Mike. I dare you not to smile or drool on yourself. Or both. Like I did.

Are you planning to make a trip to the movies this weekend with your bestest girlfriends for a little man candy? I'm going to hard pressed to not start chucking wads of cash at the screen. I really wanna know what a $20 will get me. Just sayin'...

Almost all photos jacked from Just Jared.

Disturbance in the Forks: v. 2012

Back when we first started this crazy Twilighty ride, I said I would never go to Forks. And then I did. And I said it would just be that one time, and I would never go back again. Until we did... This year? Yours truly and the rest of the Twitarded lllllaaaaaiiidies will not be in attendance (unless we win the lottery or score a Sugar Mama), but you can still go and hang out with a bunch of like-minded Twitards this October!

That's right - it's the 2012 Twitarded-y excursion to the Pacific Northwest! The lovely Double Dippin' is heading up the charge this year. Count your blessings - if JJ and I were in charge, we would double-bill it as the "Twitarded Master Cleanse Trip" and instead of figuring out how many pizzas and nachos and pieces of corn and barbeque chicken a hundred or so people can eat, we would just be serving up pitchers of cayenne/maple sugar lemonade and call it a day. Some of us might keel over from lack of calories, but think of all the fun we could have wreaking havoc on the plumbing at the Forks Motel and discussing our epic bowel movements!

 This + some booze = The Twitarded Spa Diet at Forks.

Er, anyway - if you have never been to this area and are looking for an excuse to go, do it! The PNW is a definite "don't miss"/bucket-list destination in my book, and as soon as I figure out how to coax Mr. Snarky on to a plane (or how to afford a tricked-out Airstream), I am absolutely going back there again. It is THAT awesome.

You never know who you might encounter in the woods...

 image from here.

If I didn't adore my home town to pieces, I would seriously consider moving to Seattle in the hopes that Vitamin R70 would invite me over on the weekends for bacon and brunch cocktails...

Here's the low-down on the trip so far, compliments of Double Dippin' -

So Foorks so far is a small group of about 30 give or take. Some are meeting in Seattle early in the week to sight see. Myself and a few others are staying the night in LaPush on Thursday and Forks Fri-Sun. We are looking into meeting up at the Mill Creek Tavern one night and the Forks Bowling Alley the other, as well as hiking and the beaches. We are gathering 2nd weekend of October so for me Oct 9-14th. We do have a Public Forum here and anyone that wants to join us is more than welcome!

You can go to the forums with questions or to find out about sharing rides/rooms/Edward Cullen standees for the trip... And if you stay in "our room" at the Forks Motel, make sure to pour a lil' bit of your cocktail out for your Twi-homies who couldn't make it! {{{sniff}}}

May the Forks be with you...

Lost & Found: A Sippy Cup's Story

Remember when you were a kid and someone in your family would go away on vacation or a business trip and bring you back something amazingly awesome? I used to love that shit. My dad was an office supply salesman and used to spend a lot of time traveling. He never disappointed with the gifts he returned with.

 Presents, presents, presents! Gimme, gimme, gimme!!

As a kid, I tended to cherish those trinkets and t-shirts more than any others I owned. So when one goes missing, it's like the end of the fucking world. Seriously.

My grandparents went on vacation to the Alamo one time and brought me back the coolest t-shirt. I'm sure it was a cheap-o they picked up at a $5 stand the day before they left, but to me, it was if it was made of gold. I was nine. Bite me. And then I lost it during a sleep over at my cousins' house. I was crushed. I thought about that t-shirt often over the next several months and each time was hit with a pang of regret over not taking better care of it.

 Yeah, my Alamo t-shirt looked nothing like this. Way cooler.

No one brings me vacation tchotchkes anymore so I'm relegated to buying them for myself. I have a hard time leaving a place without at least a t-shirt, or a sticker, or something. It seemed to be worse when we went to Forks. I can't believe all the stuff I crammed into my suitcase to make the trip back east.

One particular souvenir was what I adoringly refer to as my Lake Crescent sippy cup. You know, those plastic tumblers that have their own twist on cover and straw? I fucking love this thing. All summer long it gets filled with various cold beverages -- both alcoholic *gasp* and non.

 MY TREASURED SIPPY CUP!!

I filled said sippy cup with some Arnold Palmer* for a golf tournament last Friday (fitting, right?) and promptly left it in my golf cart. I didn't realize it was missing until I was home. Oh, the horror! I was crushed. I was certain that the boy who cleans out the carts either (1) mistook it for trash and threw it away, or (2) stole it for himself since it is so amazing.

Ask anyone who had the displeasure of emailing me Friday afternoon, I was distraught. Suicidal even. I couldn't stop lamenting on what might have happened to my poor, awesome sippy cup. I was seriously searching for prices on airfare to Seattle (even though I know deep down that if I called the Lake Crescent Lodge, they'd probably ship me a new one.) Maybe it's just that my trip to that particular place and the people I was with hold such a dear place in my heart. I didn't want to lose part of that memory.

I heart my Twitarded family sofuckingmuch! (Missing TK *sobs*)

So Sunday afternoon, I found myself back at the same golf course and happened to pop into the Pro Shop to ask about their Lost and Found. I described my "lost" to the kind, golfer-y gentleman and it didn't seem to ring a bell as he started searching the area obviously dedicated to such items.

And then I spotted it. Sitting on the counter directly behind where the man had been standing -- MY SIPPY CUP!! I nearly squealed as I pointed it out to him. This find completely made my weekend and turned my frown upside down.

 I was totally THIS excited!! Maybe even more.

I happily skipped out to my car and took my sippy home for a nice warm bath as it didn't appear that anyone took the time to properly wash out the dried up Arnold Palmer. I shall treat this tumbler with much more respect and maybe leave it at home from now on. I can't go through this shit again.

Do you have a favorite souvenir? Maybe it's something you got on a recent trip to Forks with Twitarded? Or something you've saved from your childhood?

*If you don't know what Arnold Palmer is, it's half lemonade and half ice tea. I did NOT chop up Arnold Palmer and put him in a blender to make an old man smoothy. Although I'm sure my preceding reputation might make you think that.

Cancer Still Sucks.

I'm going to apologize at the outset for not having a better title. My brain is not even functioning on the lower levels. I'm not sure I even blink anymore. And if you really want full disclosure (pretend you do), I've showered three times in the last thirty-eight days. Four, if you count that time with the baby wipe. The usual TK dramz have kicked it up to a whole new level. Baby TK went back in the hospital last month and now she is on a feeding tube. It's been about as much fun as you can have without having any. She's going to be ok, but I have to hook her up to a machine that we've nicknamed The Matrix five to six times a day, and do math (because fuck you, America, for not getting with the metric system), and wield a stethoscope, and order medical supply deliveries like I used to order shoes, and pin a baby down on the regular to shove a new tube down her face and ohmahgawd what happened to my life? But I digress...

 This is me right now. Except with unwashed hair.

If there's anything that will flip your life upside down and put everything in perspective, it's having a sick kid. Right before Baby TK went into the hospital, a friend of mine told me her best friend's four year-old was diagnosed with stage four neuroblastoma. I'm not even sure how a parent processes those words. It makes me physically ill. I would have a lot more words for it if my brain weren't mush.

 Also me right now.

We have a special kind of hate for all things cancer on this blog, and this little boy's story just really hit home with me. My friend Ali has sent up an account to help pay for his medical bills. Trust me when I say you can have the best insurance and the bills are still crushing and never ending. The person who brings you a pillow is different from the person who brings you meds, and a whole different person takes your blood pressure right before a different person takes an x-ray, etc, etc, etc and they all bill separately. Not to mention all the other things insurance doesn't cover, like parking, and meals for the parents (when you have time to eat), and gas for when you want to visit your house, and new books and toys to keep your sick kid occupied, and your stupid mobile phone bill because having damn near unlimited minutes seemed like enough before you spent 24/7 on the phone with doctors' offices, insurance, family, and friends.Again, I digress.

Ali is selling shirts and bracelets too. All the info will be at the bottom of this post. I know times are tough, but please consider donating. No pressure. (Just know God will kill a kitten AND a puppy if you don't. He'll take out the cute ones too.) Either way, be sure to hug your kid today, or a friend's kid. But not a stranger's kid because that leads nowhere good.

The PayPal account for direct donations is nathanscause@gmail.com.

Happy Saturday! Time Warner Cable's Twilight-Inspired Commercial

Time Warner Cable has hopped on the Twilight train. I guess their trying to get a piece of the action before the Saga comes to its *sniff* conclusion *sniff* in November. I saw this commercial for the first time this morning and laughed right out loud. I will admit, it does make me hate them just a leeeeettle less and will probably decrease the amount of times I want to hurl a brick at my television. Maybe. Well played, TWC.

Happy Saturday!!