Hotel boredom

Why am I watching a relationship movie featuring Fisher Stevens? Why is HBO airing a relationship movie featuring Fisher Stevens?

I looked this movie up (Nina Takes A Lover, and no movie with that title should be sans nudity in its first five minutes) on imdb and it said there was male frontal nudity at some point.

Grandmother of all holy fuck, if I even catch a glimpse of Fisher Stevens' manroot out of the corner of my eye, I might take a stroll on to the interstate just outside my room and headbutt a Peterbilt.

The one time, THE ONE TIME, I was going to purchase a pay-per-view movie (There Will Be Blood), my fucking low-rent hotel doesn't offer it, and HBO has had one of those nights were they send some intern into the back of their warehouse to grab-ass at whatever they can get their hands on.

Some piece of tripe called Pathfinder was on earlier. I didn't know what the fuck was going on. I seriously thought it was German, since there's, like, nine words of dialogue in it, and that it was some Wagner-ish sword-and-sorcerery epic about some dumb ass Teutonic tone poem passed down from old Swabian rune or something that I could give a fuck about.

Turns out it was aboot Vikings fucking up native Americans' shit in Newfoundland back in the Leif Ericsson day. It was filtered through that 300-ish prism that makes history safe for the testosterone-deficient.

Don't get me started on the fact that all of the gas stations in the city I'm in have those insipid plastic cups where your ice and soda mind-meld in the span of 10 minutes. Fuck.

At least I got to listen to AT40 on the way down here. No. 1 song? David Bowie's Let Dance!

 

God almighty, Fisher Stevens just sniffed someone's panties. That Peterbilt is going down.

 

Oh man, if we get to start hotel boredom threads, I'm going to be at 10,000 in a heartbeat.

 

Sadly, this isn't my first.

This stupid movie has all the dumb ass trappings every relationship movie has. Stylized, shadowy lighting, mousy, yet somewhat attractive female protagonist (Laura San Giacomo), a kiss scene on a rooftop in the moonlight. Oh wait! Here's the romantic dinner at a Caribbean joint, a metaphor for a no-strings attached affair!

And of course, it features Fisher Stevens' schlong.

(I can't confirm that Stevens' schlong actually appears in this movie, nor will I if true, because I'll be pancaked on I-24 if it comes to pass)

 

I was going to suggest watching porn, but that doesn't even sound like an option. Bummer.

 

Too bad you didn't get there in time for another AT40 live BLOG!!!!!

Of course, my wife was home tonight, so that probably wouldn't have flown.

Her: "Where are you going?"
Me: "To live blog an American Top 40 from 25 years ago with someone from SportsJournalists.com."
Her: "I'm going to my mother's. For good this time."

 

Although, Bubbler, if your next fantasy team is named anything other than "Fisher Stevens' schlong" I'm going to be seriously disappointed.

 

Hey, Bill Simmons is somehow still married after live blogging just about everything known to man, so women must be more forgiving than we give them credit for.

 

No it's not. And the reason I'm watching this at all is because this low-rent dump I'm at can't even provide me with a functional remote.

I'm beginning to think I'm going to be saved from Fisher Stevens' pants goblin. Instead, I think it's going to be this annoying British bloke San Giacomo is banging, which isn't much better.

Noonan from Caddyshack is in this. Total woodwork.

 

nothing on skinemax?

 

If it makes you feel any better, last hotel room i stayed in had a chicken bone stuck to the wall.

 

how the fuck did a chicken bone get stuck in the wall?