Monday, 15 October 2012

Nick Kaminsky's Food Blog III: Pizza My Heart

This one took a REALLY long time to finally edit, I know. But it's ever so worth the wait! For the first time (on this blog, and in my life), here is Nick Kaminsky's patented HOMEMADE PIZZA; homemade sauce, homemade crust, homemade cheese*, the whole deal. Below the video we have the ingredients written out, as always. Enjoy the embarrassment that is my drinking problem!

*There is absolutely no homemade cheese in this recipe. I don't even know how to DO that.

1 Medium Yellow Onion
3-4 Garlic Cloves (make it as garlicy as you want)
1 Can tomato Puree
1 Can diced tomatoes
1/4 cup or so Red Wine (or wed wine vinegar)

1 packet dry active yeast
1/2 cup warm water
1/2 cup milk
4-5 cups flour, plus more for later (This was the part of the recipe that gave me a lot of trouble. I ended up using quite a bit of flour, possibly 6-7 cups worth. Just try it out yourself, you can always add more flour to the recipe as you need to. You just want it to look like a pizza dough by the end of it).
A drizzle of Olive Oil

Fresh mozzeralla cheese
Sliced Tomatoes
Sliced Mushrooms
Sauteed Garlic
(Use as much of these toppings as you desire. Have fun. Add your own ingredients. Get just as wasted as I did. Or don't.)

After I finished cooking and eating, I promptly fell asleep on the porch. But don't worry. After an hour or so I rallied and cleaned the shit out of those nice girls' kitchen. Thanks again Saoirse, Kate, and Colleen. I loved getting shitty drunk and cooking pizza in your home.


Wednesday, 22 August 2012

Catching Up. Broken Promises. Summer Movies. Autoerotic Asphyxiation Tips

Nope. No reason.

Hello's uh. Well, it's me again. I know I was supposed to call. No, I didn't forget. Look, I'm sorry that I have been a total dick lately. It's not that I didn't want to call you or anything, it was just tough. I've been busy with a lot of other stuff and I didn't have a struggling desire to come up with witty blog posts. But in the end I took the coward's way out, and just ignored the problem at hand (SYMBOLISM!!!) It was stupid Blogosphere, and I hope some day you can forgive me. I'm going to try to be better about it. I talk about how I want to write and blah blah blah, so why did I choose to ignore you? It was neglectful on my part, especially because I care about you so much. These are not excuses Blogosphere, but here are some of the reasons I stopped writing to you:

Work became busier - I get such relish in completing my blog posts during the work day. It's the closest I've ever gotten to getting paid for writing! But the warehouse race has just been kicking my ass, and I have not nearly as much time to muse about bullshit. Why don't I just write at home you ask? That is a very good question, and to be honest, I'm kind of fucking offended you asked. I guess that leads to point two:

Laziness - I have been very lazy lately. Very, very, lazy. And when laziness strikes, creative endeavors is the first thing to go out the window (upkeep of apartment, grocery shopping, and personal hygene are usually close to follow).

I am stupid - I have been spending my time doing and worrying about stupid things. STOP BEING A STUPID PERSON, NICK. (That was the comment I got on my fourth grade report card, incidentally. And after I lost my virginity).

I was afraid I didn't know what to write about - Sometimes it's hard thinking of clever and witty thigns to write about in blog posts 3-4 times a week. It can get stressful trying to rack my brain for more things to discuss and explore. But then. But THEN. I realized something improtant: Who gives a shit? This Blogosphere is probably 75% consisted of Nick Kaminsky anyway. What I'm trying to say here is: this blog is more for me than anyone else. Does that sound selfish? It should. I'm a selfish person and I think I am fucking hilarious. It's true, ask anyone. I am the goddamn most hilarious person ever in the entire world, according to me. So I don't need to worry about creating interesting topics or being "relevant" (whatever THAT means). I just gotta do what I do. Which is entertain the shit out of myself.

Well. There we have it. What else is going on?

The summer is almost over, so that means the Summer Blockbuster season is almost over as well. I have done my best to see as many movies as the shrapnel in my back pocket could afford, but sure, I definitely missed a few big name flicks. But what are you gonna do? Well, not see Dark Shadows, for one.

The Movies I liked:

Moonrise Kingdom - My favorite movie of the summer. It is almost like Wes Anderson is doing an impersination of a Wes Anderson movie, but it is still really great, and really quirky, and has shirtless Bill Murray holding an axe. We have a best movie of 2012 so far. "I love you, but you don't know what you're talking about."
Magic Mike - I had to see this movie a second time because the first time I was too drunk and fell asleep. I love this movie. It is legitmately good. And yes, I am half in love and half obsessed with Channing Tatum. C-Tates is the MAN. Throw him in with Academy Award winning and no-name-taking BADASS like Steven Soderburgh, and you got a straight up awesome movie. Also, Matthew McCounghaey playing Matthew McConnahey. Alright, alright, alright.

The Dark Knight Rises - Easily my favorite Batman movie of the new trilogy. It was the best told story of the three, and didn't have an absolutely awful third act. I appreciate that. Also, and I don't like saying this, and hope I will never have to again, but Anne Hatheway was probably my favorite part of the movie. I need a shower now.

The Avengers - Easily the best superhero movie ever made.

Men In Black III - Woah. Who the fuck saw this one coming? It took two years to complete due to production halts and budget problems, didn't have a finished script when production began, and the entire time traveling idea for the film was thought up by Will Smith himself. This movie should have sucked and it should have sucked hard (the second one is an abortion of a film), but it doesn't. This movie doesn't suck at all. In fact it's kind of...good?

Ted - Yeah, I did. I liked Ted. I can't resist Mahky Mahk. It was a totally competent comedy and it made me laugh.

Movies I didn't like:

Prometheus - Goddamn I wanted to like this movie, I really did (if for nothing else than Michael Fassbender and his big dong), but I didn't. I didn't think it was successufl as an scifi/horror action flick, and I didn't think it worked as a philosphical drama either. It fell flat. And I peed on it afterwards.

The Amazing Spiderman - I didn't hate this movie. But I didn't really like it. It couldn't decide on a tone, which, seems like a pretty important part of a superhero movie. It tries to be edgy and new, but still can't shed all of the silly playfulness and cheese that is Spiderman. That and it was too long. And the villain's motivations made no sense whatsoever. And also, WE JUST SAW THIS MOVIE TEN YEARS AGO.
Hi. I'm the only good part of this movie.

Movies I did not see beacuse eh:

  • The Dictator
  • Seeking a Friend for the End of the World
  • Brave
  • Total Recall
  • The Bourne Legacy
  • Savages
  • Expendables 2 (Okay this I do really want to see, I just haven't yet)

Movies I did not see because ew:

  • Dark Shadows (Fuck Tim Burton)
  • Snow White and the Huntsman (EW)
  • Madagascar 756
  • Ice Age 432
  • Rock of Ages (I worked at a maximum security prison for 7 years, and the trailer for that movie is still the gayest thing I've ever seen)
  • Battleship (Fuck Transformers at sea. Man, I'm not even sure why, but I do feel a little bad for Taylor Kitsch though. That dude took a pounding this summer. And not the fun kind)

My movies make no money. I bet it has nothing to do with my douchebag face.

  • Abraham Lincoln Vampire Hunter (how can you have a movie called Abraham Lincoln VAMPIRE HUNTER and give it no sense of humor whatsoever?)
  • Katy Perry 3D Concert (Hahahahahah)
  • Tyler Perry's Witness Protection (Michael Bay is the white Tyler Perry)
  • The Watch

Looking through this list I realize I should have seen more movies. Particularly the ones that looked horrible. I would have loved to include Battleship and Snow White onto my "movies I hated list." I would have hated both of those. Especially the one with Heartburn McBiteslip.

My movies make a lot of money. I bet it's because of my douchebag face.

So a few months ago I lost another iPod (I've gone through more iPods in the last 10 years than I have pairs of shoes), and in an angry decision to never shell out the big bucks for an mp3 player again, I bought a tiny 4 gig piece of shit. It's not like I need anything fancy. Just a small device that will hold 20-30 albums and some songs that I like to run to (this body didn't happen by accident). Simple enough. And for the 60 bucks I ended up shelling out on it (no I didn't shop around because MAN REASON SHOPPING IS DUMB), I figured it would definitely be able to handle the two simple tasks I asked of it.
You're a piece of shit, Derek!

But it couldn't. It's a piece of shit. And as a result I only have four albums on it. I have pretty much only listened to four different albums all summer. They are the following:

Funhouse - The Stooges
Maggot Brain - Funkadelic
Odessey and Oracle - The Zombies
Who Killed Sgt. Pepper? - The Brian Jonestown Massacre

SO. Really I could be in much worse company. Those are four pretty fucking awesome records. But still, it gets kind of repetitious. I mean, I love the Stooges, but I can't even hear 1969 (lame). But I will say, I have such a big goddamn appreciation for that Jonestown album now. I, like most people out there (I'd guess, I can't speak for everyone because 99 PERCENT), I had started to grow a bit weary with new Brian Jonestown albums. They are becoming stranger, more electronic, and way more European. But after listening to this album over and over and over (and over and over and over) I have come to love it so much. Each track, most stranger than the last, have such an interesting and undeniable energy to them. Oh yeah, that strange energy is a lot of drugs. This album was produced on and makes you want to do a lot of drugs.

And always have a spotter.

See you soon Blogosphere.

Friday, 11 May 2012

Nick Kaminsky's Food Blog - Episode 2: Drunk Scampi

O Glorious Blogosphere, how I have desired to suckle once again from your gentle bosom! That was weird. Well! Here we are with the second cooking video blog (or VLOG AS THE CRAZY KIDS ARE CALLING IT), made by the only man willing to stoop this low while cooking such high class food! Enjoy the madness that ensues, and the deliciousness that follows!



3 Medium-Large Potatoes, chopped into pieces
1-2 tbsp. Extra Virgin Olive Oil (EEVO)
Roast at 350 until browned and crispy delicious (about 35-45 minutes)


3 Scallions (Just the green part)
3 Cloves Garlic
1/2 - 1 Bunch Italian Parsley
1 tbsp. White Wine Vinegar
Red Chili Flakes
2-3 tbsp EEVO (Slowly drip into the parsley mixture while inside the food processor until you get a texture like in the video. It's awesome that way.)


2-3 tbsp Unsalted Butter
3 Garlic Cloves
2-3 tbsp. Parsley
1 tbsp. White Wine
1/2 Lemon

Assemble on plate. Add GOAT CHEESE LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!!!!! Enjoy.

Until next time Blogosphere!

Sunday, 29 April 2012

"Hick" starring Chloe Grace Moretz. Jesus.

Here is the trailer for "Hick," directed by Derick Martini (who has directed nothing else important and has a stupid name. Pssh. Derick). It stars Chloe Grace Moretz, Blake Lively, and the British kid from My Week With Marylin.

I want to see this movie twice.

Wednesday, 25 April 2012


Tonight I am once again joining with the evil forces of the culinary world to record another video cooking blog. A VLOG if you will. But that won't be done for a while SOOOOOOO let's put up a bunch of silly pictures of me cooking tacos! Okay, Nick! Thanks, Blogosphere!

So here is how to make an old school taco, with nothing but tasty meat (haha), onions, cilantro, and lime.

[Editor's Note: There are no limes in this Cooking Blog. I make the proper substitutes. Back off.]

You sure need onions! That's a small yellow onions. Onions are delicious! Did you know why onions can make you cry? Because you're a little bitch.

This is cilantro! It's delicious! It makes everything smell and taste so fresh! Those Mexicans sure know what they're doing!

This is chicken. Or as the Mexicans call it, POLLO (Pronounced Poy-YO, because Languages are crazy!) Here are two chicken breasts. They come from the chest portion of the chicken's body. We eatin' titties.

Calm, reflective, ready and willing, but not over-eager....but really, aren't I cute?

If you make tacos and you don't use cumin then I just don't understand you. I tried, and I don't.

Salt. Pepper. Whatever.

Tortillas. No big deal.

Okay seriously, everything about this picture I love. Cheese is optional for old-school taco. But. If ya got it, ya know. Fuckin' cheese rocks.

Sour cream, also not necessary, but delicious. I recommend adding three tablespoons (a healthy dollop) to your partner's chest before love-making commences.

Hey. Make it spicy, buddy. Make it spicy.


Seasoned! Cook the chicken until it looks like....

...this. And don't ever stop trying in life until you look as bad ass as I do. Just some advice.

I cut up the chicken using my mad knife skills. I got razor sharp skills and I got razor sharp blades y'all. Hater's gonna hate but that shit ain't mean nothin' to the hardest werkin' and twerkin blogger in da blogosphere yo! It's like mah boy C-Tates always be sayin', "It ain't whack to be dope, YO!"

Okay, I'm really sorry, but I didn't realize I didn't have limes until halfway through making these fucking tacos. So instead I put lemon juice on it. Okay? It's almost the same. I said I was fucking sorry.

Hey kids.

Put the meat, cilantro, onions, lime (lemon) juice (and cheese and sour cream if desired) into the tortilla. I guess you could heat up the tortilla or bake it a little or something too, but I was kinda drunk by this point so we just weren't little bitches about it and we ate em as is. Like bosses.

Deliciosity. Enjoy your tacos, you fuckers.

Mike Ortiz eats tacos! Mike Ortiz is also allergic to latex, I found out that night.

Mindi's gross. She's sexy and I want her, but she's gross.

Kristen steals Jake's taco! Jake seriously punched her in the face right after this picture was snapped. There was a lot of blood. He broke her cheek bone or something. I don't know I'm pretty sure she's fine now. Dig.

Saturday, 7 April 2012


This might not be the drunk cooking video blog you want, but it is the drunk cooking video blog you need. The recipe: cheeseburgers (Nick style). The vibe: sexy. Sit back and enjoy.

Here are the ingredients listed. Remember, these amounts are just rough guidelines. They are not "exact." Mostly because I'm not actually ever sure what I'm "doing."

For the Burger Patties:
1/2 lb Ground Pork
1/2 lb Ground Beef
3-4 Garlic Cloves
1 Shallot
1 tbsp Parsley

For the Sriracha Mayonnaise:
Curry Powder
A little lemon juice (eh?)

For the Onions and Mushrooms:

Olive Oil
Crushed Rep Pepper Flakes
(All good)


Wednesday, 4 April 2012

Another Dumb Fantasy Story: Part II "When Dark Night Falls And Blackness And Stuff" by Justin Bostian

I'm going to quickly preface the new chapter by saying this is the funniest fucking thing I've ever read. And also, nothing has ever more so convinced me that Justin Bostian is a bad person. Enjoy!

Chapter II

The blinding pain behind my eyes slowly passed as the sun rose, casting a long beam of light directly onto my face. I rolled off the small, foul-smelling couch that was soaked in what I hope was urine and tried to place myself. A quaint little cottage with a dome ceiling, low-hanging lamps burning orange, a dead goat-man in the corner. Shit, there we go, a goat-man.
“What’s up?” I said, crawling my way over to the prone smelly man-thing. He gurgled at me.
“Hey,” I said, poking him in the belly with my foot, “try not to swallow your own vomit like that.” Amateurs.
He gurgled until I picked him up and leaned him against a wall.
“So, seriously, where am I? I don’t really remember anything before a few days ago, when I started celebrating half-Veterans Day.”
The goat-man stopped dry heaving for a moment and gave me a strange look with his dirty goat-man eyes.
“That’s when I get drunk in honor of veterans that didn’t really do enough to matter on the real Veteran’s Day.”
He resumed dry-heaving.
“You know, like male nurses or anyone who was on a boat.”
As the goat slowly regained his composure and licked the vomit from his fur, I strolled around the cramped home, rooting through boxes of dusty bottles and magic-looking shit. I found a tall blue glass with a cork stopper, blew the dust off and proceeded to drink the shit out of whatever it was.
“Where’s this place?” I asked, kicking the goat-man in his stupid leg.
“Stop hitting me! This is my home!”
“Why is that, do you think you’re better than me? Is that it?” Whatever was in that bottle was fucking awesome.
“What? No! Are you drunk already?”
“Yeah, you wish you was like that.”
The goat-man stood to his hooves and shook his head. “You…you’re not making any sense. And great spirits, you smell like a mass grave!”
I took a swig from the bottle and laughed in the goat-man’s face.
“Where are the children?” he asked, looking around the small shitty goatpartment.
“What chilluns? You talkin’ about my wife? Are you?”
He was running around now, looking under blankets and tables, pushing over piles of books and scrolls and magic swords and other fantasy shit.
“The children you came here with! The ones you were watching when you all came through the wardrobe!”
I stopped flipping through an old, worn book that illustrated all sorts of crazy sexual intercourse between humans and strange sexy creatures. “I’m not following you,” I said, and resumed ogling an ogre-man-ogre threesome.
“You were supposed to be protecting them! We were going to consult Fandaragron, the Tree Wizard, about how to save the world, but then you…,” he paused and scratched his head, recalling last night as if through a thick, awesomely-drunken fog. “…you made us all shotgun three beers and—and—oh dear god, they’re gone!”
I tucked the dirty little book into my back pocket and lit up a joint that I rolled from some ground-up plant laying on goat-erson’s table.
“Look, man, I don’t really care about those kids. I don’t even think we’re related. Just by, like, marriage or something. Second cousins, maybe.”
“They could be anywhere! They could be in the hands of The White Queen!”
“Tall bitch with white hair? Cold blue eyes?”
The goat-man nodded his head and looked puzzled. “You know her?”
“Yeah, she’s got the kids. I’m sorta…I’m looking at them right now. Like, in a misty blue haze through time and space, I think.” I took another hit from the joint. “This is some killer grass.”
The goat-man slapped the joint out of my hand.
“Fool! You know not what you do!”
“I know exactly what I do,” I said, swinging my fist at his face but somehow missing and evaporating the misty-blue cloud where I saw the tall hot white chick with the three kids that were apparently my responsibility. Whatever.
“If you can see them, they can see you! You never know who’s watching!”
“Look, I don’t know how to make this any clearer: I don’t fucking care. Let’s go find that tree wizard you were talking about.” That would seem like a constructive decision, but I really just wanted to get the hell out of this guy’s house. It smelled like a wet dog got stuck in a microwave that was stuck inside of a septic tank.
“Yes of course!” the goat man shouted. “Fandaragron will know precisely what to do!”
“Sure, great, Fandargrar, swell.” I grabbed a leather bag that was sitting on the floor and pushed in an armful of vials—powders, liquids, herbs and glowing shit—because fuck yeah, free stuff.

Falingrad’s place was deep in some woods, a dense little circle of trees surrounding a pleasant meadow. Bisecting the green plot of land was a river, crystal blue and fast moving. It was ten feet deep, maybe, and twice that across, and it stretched off into the distance both ways. The old man sat in a rocking chair in the middle of the circle, smoking some dank from a long wooden pipe, mumbling softly beneath his flowing white beard.
“That’s him,” the goat-man whispered. “The guardian of the sacred river. It flows all the way from the northern mountains into The White Queen’s capitol.”
“That’s convenient,” I said.
As we entered the circle of trees, the goat-man bent low. “Good eve, wise Fandaragron, keeper of secrets. We seek your counsel.”
The old man flicked his eyes up and glanced at the goat-man, then at me, before he lowered his gaze and continued to mumble, rocking slightly in his chair.
“Please, oh venerable one—“
“Lemme handle this, fool.” I stood in front of the old man and fished out a baggie of some purple herb that I swiped from the goat’s table. I dumped it into the end of the pipe and lit the old man up. He took a monster hit and exhaled a series of perfect rings, then a boat of smoke that sailed through the hoops, then a tiny smoke missile that followed quickly after, turning the whole thing into a smoky ball of smoke-explosion.
“That’s some solid shit, old man,” I said, pulling the pipe away from the mouth that I assume rested beneath the wicked ‘stache. “You help me, I help you.” I took a hit and the goat-man rushed over, tugging on the wizard’s sleeve.
“Please, Fandaragron, we desperately need your help! The world is in peril! The White Queen—”
“BITCH!” The old man leapt from his seat and thundered at the quivering, stinky little dick. “DON’T TOUCH MY MOTHERFUCKIN’ ROBES! PUNK-ASS GOAT!”
He threw the goat-man to the ground and yelled about his new sandals. “ALL SCUFFED UP AND SHIT FROM YOUR BITCH-ASS HOOVES AND SHIT! I’M A GODDAMN TREE WIZARD! I DO NOT NEED THIS SHIT!”
“Whatever, Voldemort, we lost some kids to some bitch and we have to get them back, I guess.”
He turned his rage toward me.
“Not my problem, Dumpledore.” The old man was getting pretty agitated. “Just get us a giant eagle or an invincible sword or something, I don’t know. I’m hungry and this place sucks, chop chop.”
The wizard took a step towards me and sucked in a deep breath.
“Dude, stop fucking yelling, I’m right here. And I don’t give a shit, just help us out and we’ll leave. Look, take the goat-guy, I’ll trade you.”
“You…you can’t do that!” the goat-man squeaked.
“Sure I can’t. Whattaya say, you give me some magical powers or forty virgins, I give you…” I glanced at the shaking, pitiful goat-thing, “…one virgin. Deal?”
The old man looked the goat up and down, hunger in his eyes. He licked his lips and slipped one crusty old hand inside his robe, vigorously rubbing his old tree-wizard crotch.
“Deal,” he said.
“Haha, gross. Alright, give me something cool.”
The tree wizard dug through the pockets of his robe and pulled out a wand. It was long and supple, made of dark wood with a gold end-cap.
“This,” he said, waving it about in the air, leaving a glowing red trail of light, “is a very good wand. It has a heart of unicorn-leg-tendon, very powerful, very old.”
“That’s coo—wait, unicorn leg-tendon? That’s…that’s pretty fucked up, man. Like, did they have to kill the unicorn to get the tendon?”
“What? Oh, yeah, probably. But the wand is—”
“No, man, I don’t want that thing. First off, it’s super gay. Like, c’mon, a wand? What am I, Harry Potter? Second, that’s fucking cruel. Maybe if I killed the unicorn myself, used every part of it…but not like this, man.”
“Just keep fishing around in that dress, Merlin.”
The old wizard dug around some more and offered me a gold pocket-watch that could control time.
“Gay,” I said.
A scarf that would change my voice to mimic anyone’s when I wore it over my mouth.
A ring that would make me invisible.
“Copyright infringement. And also gay.”
“Lower your voice and give me some magical hotness, Gargamel, or you can kiss your twisted goat-man fantasies goodbye.”
The old man licked his lips again, undressing the goat-man with his eyes, and said, “Okay, okay, here.” He produced a long walking stick, light knobby wood with a leather strap criss-crossing its length. “This,” he said, “is a very special walking stick.”
“Do tell,” I said, expecting it to turn all the world’s sadness into kitten breaths or give me the power to grow plants on rocks, something gay.
“Simply dip the end into any liquid and it will become…alcohol. The finest ambrosia ever tasted, the drink of the gods themselves.”
“Finally, some good news.” I snatched the stick and immediately made for the fast-flowing river.
“Wait!” the tree wizard yelled. “You can use it only once! It is very powerful! Very dangerous!”
“Yeah, sure,” I said, still walking towards the river.
“Any liquid it touches will be turned! And liquid the ambrosia touches will become ambrosia!”
“Yeah, well, it’s my stick now, so I say it becomes Justin Bostian’s Amazing Wonder Liquor And Super Boner Elixir.” I chucked the stick into the river and immediately the water around the ripples turned a deep caramel, amber, flowing honey.
“NO!” the wizard yelled.
Fish were already starting to float to the surface, belly-up. I chuckled, grabbed the goat-man and dove into the river.
“DAMN YOU, DRUNKARD!” the wizard yelled. “THIEF! THIEF!”
I laughed and floated down the wonderful 100-proof river using the undoubtedly-alcohol-poisoned goat-man as a furry raft. I drank the sweet water and finally, fucking finally, blacked out.

Wednesday, 7 March 2012


I could totally be a TV sitcom writer (he thinks to himself, smugly, daily, while sipping a hot cup of his own frothy piss). Writing for TV is not hard to do. It is hard to do WELL, sure, but have you ever seen sitcoms? They're mostly the worst (unless you're Community). It's all just following the same formula with each episode (unless you're Community), and trying to keep your viewers comfortable with the characters you've created (unless you're Community). With that in mind, I totally believe that I can come up with a few good pilots that could easily become decent TV sitcoms (read: Not as good Community, but still WAY better than Whitney). Oh look, it took me ten minutes and I just came up with three! (Note: None of these ideas came from my life. Or Community)

My First Marriage

Nick (totally not based on me, I promise) and his friend, the unfortunately named Ember, are both unsuccessful writers down on their luck financially and romantically. To help revitalize their fiscal saituations, writing, and lives, they decide to get married. The two think it's a hilarious notion, Nick being excited to "get that pesky first marriage out of the way." Both are sure it will mix things up perfectly, and give them new perspectives on relationships and friendship for their writing. Of course, nothing is ever that simple, and the two quickly find out they may have gotten more than they bargained for when they became "husband and wife."
Long Distance

Two best friends, Nick (totally not based on me, I promise) and Brittany, have been back in the states for some time now. One lives in Chicago, and the other lives right outside of Columbus, Ohio. When they lived in Bangkok they both raged hard, but since being back in America, Brittany has calmed down and settled into a quiet (boring?) life with her new boyfriend. Nick on the other hand, is forever the partier (too much partying?) and living the single's life. The two talk daily (via text, phone, skype) to fill each other in on the details of their lives. They help each other get through and learn from the day to days of their extremely different post-abroad lives.
The Rev

A young musician, Nick (totally not based on me, I promise) is dumped by his longtime girlfriend for not caring enough about their future. After pining horribly over her, he resolves to win her back and prove he cares. Through misguided advice from his best friend and fellow musician Brett, he decides to become an ordained minister and begins performing marriages. But when he finds out it's going to take a lot more than that to win her back, Nick realizes he actually kind of likes marrying people. Through different wedding ceremonies each episode, he starts to learn more about relationships and himself than he ever thought he would.
See how easy that was (Of course you can't see, you didn't watch me type this. Or...did you)? That's three solid sitcoms right there, and I actually do think one of them could probably be turned into a halfway watchable TV show. Especially if they got someone young and fresh to play the main parts. Maybe someone familiar with the subjects of the shows. Someone who, while not professionally trained, knows personally he has quite the acting chops. Maybe he has long hair? Okay, okay, it's me! I should play the main characters! Or Danny Pudi. That guy is AMAZING.

Here are some awesome Community clips for your eyes and brain!

Tuesday, 28 February 2012

What's On Netflix Instant 3

In addition to Netflix Instant, I am also one of those people (read: lavish, decadant, and embossed in solid gold) who has real life DVDs sent to his house, adding to his viewing feast. I'm also one of those assholes who kept the same movie out for something like four months because I lost the red envelope and somehow kept telling myself I was one day actually going to finish Never Let Me Go (Spoiler Alert: I didn't). But I've finally gotten into a good flow of actually watching the movies they send me. And I also remembered that Netflix releases all new DVDs at the same time as the stores, so I fixed up my queue (I don't even know why I thought I'd someday watch The Book of Eli), and lately I have just been kicking ass at watching movies. Seriously, I'm really good at it. I watch all the good ones. I wish I could recommend those movies to you, because everyone should get a chance to see Michael Shannon stare creepily and feel undeniable dread for two hours. But I can't recommend that movie (I highly recommend that movie. It is a masterfully made film. Also Jessica Chastain) because it's not on Netflix Instant. So instead, here are some shitty things to watch on Instant!

Half Nelson (2006) - Ryan Fleck

So, Drive (Nicholas Refn-Winding 2011) is pretty much my favorite movie in a long time. It takes the awesome 80's pink & neon style and violence of Grand Theft Auto Vice City, and combines it with a French new Wave kind of anti-hero cinema. And what do we get? We get Ryan Gosling being the cutest, most endearing, skull-stomping criminal on the planet. I could watch Drive every day if the world would let me (or I bought the DVD). Drive is not on Netflix Instant. So instead, I rewatched the movie that put Ryan Gosling on everyone's radar, and proved he wasn't just that cute prick from The Notebook (they should call that movie, "The Boring Book!" Amiright? Sorry, I never even finished it. It is really boring). Gosling stars as a young (and dreamy) crack-addicted Middle School history teacher in the inner city of New York, who's life is pretty quickly spinning out of control. Goddamnit, Baby Goose, how do you do it? How do you keep taking these parts of extremely damaged, possibly psychotic characters, and still all I want to do is be your little spoon? The movie is pretty good, but Goose is the reason it stands out in anyway. Gosling was nominated for an Oscar for this role (which is the equivalent of a fart, yes), but he really is amazing in it. Check it out if you love Ryan Gosling. If you don't love Ryan Gosling, go to the doctor as soon as you can to get your heart fixed, you goddamn robot.

Dead Man (1995) - Jim Jarmusch

Speaking of skull crushing, you have to see Dead Man. I think this Jarmusch film is a little overlooked, and that's a damn shame because it is so bizarre, funny, and surreal. It was dubbed by its creator as a "Psychedelic Western." Are you fucking kidding me? If they made that into a clothing line I would staple the entire catalogue onto my body. Johnny Depp, who is actually playing a role I like, is William Blake. No, not that William Blake, just another William Blake who, around the turn of the 20th century, finds himself in looking for a job in the ass-end of nowhere. He's wounded and framed for murder, and quickly becomes the most sought outlaw in all the land. With the help of very smart Native American, Nobody, who mistakes Depp for the real William Blake, the two go on a journey through the human mind and the meaning of life and death. Sound heavy? If I didn't do a good enough job selling the flick, that's just beacuse I'm a stupid fucking white man.


"Pulling" (2006-2009) - Sharon Horgan and Dennis Kelly

I keep saying I'm not the biggest fan of British humor and then I keep recommending that all you bastards watch it (have you seen the ever seen the show "Spaced?" I hope not, BECAUSE I HAVEN'T RECOMMENDED IT TO YOU YET). "Pulling" describe it in the most unappealing way possible to ears, the British "Sex and the City." The night before her wedding, Donna breaks it off with her unimpressive fiancee. And from there she moves in with her two best friends, one is completely clueless and borderline a stalker, and the other a raging alcoholic. I know the phrase "a British Sex and the City" should never be uttered, but it's not just that. It's really raunchy and is actually more honest about modern day relationships and dating than most shows I've seen. It also has that inevitable, everything is going to go wrong vibe, which I don't normally find very funny, but works here. It's kind of like a British "Curb Your Enthusiasm." GOD, I HATE THAT SHOW TOO! WHY DO I LIKE PULLING?

Oh yeah, it's really fucking funny. And I have a strange Irish crush on Donna. I like her voice, and I like her downplayed sexuality. And I also like "The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Todd Margaret." Also, her breasts.

There's only two six-episode seasons and then a special episode concluding the series (a la the original Office series), so it's real easy to get through quickly. Which I always like.

Enjoy the flicks. Read the blog. ADHERE TO ME FOREVER!

Wednesday, 22 February 2012



FEB 19-25 : Van Halen @ United Center ?

With the money you would spend on this one concert you could see all the other shows happening in Chicago and have money for more than just PBR. In 2012 Refused and At The Drive-In have re-united to play shows so I guess I shouldn't be surprised that Van Halen is touring on a new album (A Different Kind of Truth) but who the hell is actually excited about this???

SERIOUSLY… there are some great shows happening this week.

Tonight in fact we have the haunting Zola Jesus at Lincoln Hall supported by the noise rock duo Talk Normal and Chicago's own Chris Connelly (of Revolting Cocks and Ministry). I think Talk Normal would definitely be worth seeing if you can dig the vibe at LH.

Or if your feeling nostalgic (if I was that is) you could catch the aging Promise Ring at the Metro with Joan Of Arc. If this seems like a strange pairing remember that Davey played in Cap'n Jazz. DUH. Just forget it. Wood/Water is still a decent record damn you.

Then again if you're like me and can't spare the $15 bucks to see such a high profile show there's always the donation based DIY option if you can even find the venue.

This Saturday one of my favorite local groups Wume a drums/synth duo are playing at the Dell's. Wume's spaced out jamz album Distance has been a friend to my record player for a couple months and live the drumming of April is always interesting and grooving. Keep your ear to the ground for this one.

OR Swan King & Anatomy of Habit at the Hideout (not a DIY space) would be a good one for Saturday if you can't find the Dell's or if you want to get heavy. Killer.

Tuesday, 21 February 2012


So I'm totally kicking ass at this blog, huh? Writing it weekly, sometimes even bi-weekly (LIKE A WEEK THAT DIGS BOTH GIRL WEEKS AND GUY WEEKS), always supplying my avid (rabid?) fan base with top of the line information and insight about art, culture, and the art of culture. Yeah, I do aaaaaaaaaaaaaalllllllll that. Get the schtick I'm going for? It's funny, because it's not true. I don't do these things. I keep forgetting about this fucking blog. I don't really forget about, it's just I keep finding myself at a loss for what to talk about that isn't just me wanking off in cyber space about what Michael Shannon movie you should be watching. The answer is any, but the more helpful answer is Take Shelter (2011) because oh my god it is so good it makes me just want to take my dick out, right here in this cyber space, and just start jerkin' it. Get it all over the keyboard. I don't give a fuck. It's my blog.

This here is a picture of Snoop Dogg on The Price is Right.
I think it is awesome. "Nah my nizzle Drew Cizzle, this gangsta ain't interested in this bogus-ass Showcase. Me and my homies ain't swimmin' in no above ground pool do ya hizzle? I'ma bid on a dune buggy mothafucker! Now get me my pimp glass while I smoke a blunt and have my bitches roll this big-ass bling wheel, ya jizzle with me?"

See? This is some good blog STUFF, amiright?

Boba Fett with titties. You're welcome.

I've been on a wine kick the last few days. I find it the most romantic way to get drunk (which is ironic, considering how much I drink it by myself. BUT WHO SAID ROMANCE IS DEAD? WHO'S TO SAY I CAN'T TURN ON SOME LUTHER VANDROSS, LIGHT A FEW CANDLES, SUCKLE ON A BOTTLE OF WINE AND MAKE MYSELF FEEL JUUUUUUUUUST RIGHT), and I find myself happier and lighter than when I'm whiskey-bombed. But the best part is I can still get as trashed as I would on whiskey, but not be as out of control. Oh, I kind of forgot to mention that this is in relation to my writing. I'm obviously one of those writers (i.e. alcoholic), but I just prefer to do my work with a glass or bottle right there beside me. Psh, that's probably the reason I decided to start writing in the first place, because it's the most socially acceptable job to hold and still be constantly sauced (except for, of course, Airline Pilot and Birthday Party Clown. God, I miss clowning).

But getting back on the subject (haha, like there's one of those), red wine has been a great companion for my writing endeavors. I feel more amarous to the page as I write, the red wine helping me to relax and not overthink things. Don't get me wrong, whiskey DEFINITELY helps me to not overthink (or think at all for that matter. PEOPLE LIKE IT WHEN YOU CLOSE TALK THEIR FACES RIGHT??? RIGHT?!?!), but I can only drink so much whiskey before I'm just a wreck. Structure is lost, sentences aren'tfinished, meaning is blurred, and I start using far too much slang from the fifties (I gotta try to cool it Big Daddy, I get all cranked because my bag really razzes my berries, but I'm not made in the shade just yet, I still got some gringles in my jingles).

So to summarize, whiskey good. Red wine, also good.

This is just...this just is. I love this kid. I want to invite him over and make nachos. I also want that really uncomfortable girl to come, and sit with her back just angled to us the whole time while she makes that nervous face.

Finally, and on a serious note, there is one more thing I need to bring to the attention of the Blogosphere (Blogosphere is also the name of a new Space-Themed Cereal I'm creating and marketing. "Blast Off With a Mouthful of Blogospheres, the Only Cereal That Tastes As Good Going In As It Does Coming Out!" Or I'm maybe thinking, "Blogospheres! FUCKING EAT 'EM!"). I bring this to your attention so that you fully realize the dangers I am putting myself, and my body in. It's bad. It's real bad. Ohhhhh, but it's good.

Justin Bostian and Nicholas Mallorie Kaminsky.

Have Purchased.
OOOHHHH SHIT. For those of you who know me (and for that, I am truly, deeply remorseful), you know I have a slight tattoo obsession. But not in a groovy, fully committed way that involves beautiful artistic pieces that consume generous portions of skin. I get tons of little, ridiuclous cartoonish tattoos in discreet (i.e. invisible unless nacked) places all over what I guess I call a body. I have countless tattoos (unless, that is, you learned how to count) around my legs, back, torso, shoulders, and I always want more. And more, and more, and more. And now I have a fucking tattoo gun? Jeeeeeeeeesus, my poor skin is fucked. I've already designated my right thigh as my "practice thigh." Once I get good enough (which is a relative, moot, non-term) I will venture out to other parts of my body, and Justin's body (that is what he said), and hopefully, if any of you are confident enough, ON YOU!

Free tattoos motherfuckers! Get 'em while they're hot! And by hot, I mean still relatively clean, because we are not buying new needles once we use up the ones they give us. Ha! A joke about unsanitary tattoo procedure performed by non-professionals. I think I broke new grounds of humor here tonight folks. I want to thank you as much as you want to thank me. This was a step towards something beautiful. Now who's ready to take the new convertible out for a spin? Maybe get some chimichangas and make fun of homeless people? Of course, boo, you can operate the fryalator...what else are boos for?

Monday, 13 February 2012

Another Dumb Fantasy Story: Part I "A Fancy Adventure" by Justin Bostian

A Fancy Adventure

When we first stepped into the wardrobe, I thought for certain that my three young cousins were about to drag me into some stupid kid games. I was quite happy to be as drunk as I was; my days of imagination-filled adventures are behind me, and I have long since preferred the blissful silence of inebriation to dragons or unicorns or dragon-corns or griffo-plorps. Babysitting is a tough gig and you can’t expect sobriety from a properly trained child-care professional.

I’m not one for delving into other people’s closets, but these three spunky kids pointed out the old house on the hill, screaming things like “It’s our grandfather’s mansion!” and “We should go exploring!”

They kept mentioning a wardrobe, some big old closet that their “grandfather” kept in the attic. I’m pretty sure the little bastards were lying, but I was six beers deep and, honestly, I just don’t give a shit anymore. After breaking a few windows and rooting through drawers for pills I could sell, we made our way to the attic and found the wardrobe. We pushed through the dusty coats and unidentifiable furs that were tightly packed in the antique wooden box. Peter led the way, his blonde hair and Aryan features making him the ideal lead character. The little girl followed close behind, dangling a ratty teddy bear from her tiny hands. Directly in front of me was the boy with shifty eyes who eventually turns evil but redeems himself through courageous actions or something. I think his name is George. I brought up the rear, cracking open another Modelo and cursing them beneath my breath.

“This is stupid,” I said.

“No!” yelled Little Girl, “It’s an adventure!”

I bit my tongue, half because I didn’t want to scream obscenities at a child and half to make sure I could still feel things, and the temperature in the wardrobe suddenly changed. The stuffy, dusty smell was replaced with crisp, fresh air and I could see my breath. The scratchy wool coats we waded through became pine branches, sharp and sticky with sap. That shifty little bastard George let a branch whip back and hit me in the face, and I was about to punch him in the back of his little head when a burst of sunlight temporarily blinded me.

“What the fuck,” I yelled, ignoring the innocent ears. The children were frolicking in the snow when I regained my vision, and if I wasn’t so bitter and jaded I would have marveled at the fantasy wonderland that lay before me. We were in the midst of a beautiful forest, trees stretching to the impossibly blue sky, everything covered in a fine layer of clean white snow. It was so pretty that I felt like vomiting. I mean, I did vomit, but I can probably pin that on all the Taco Bell that I slammed before my morning Four-Loko.

“Where are we?” squeaked Little Girl in a passable English accent. Peter, being the oldest and therefore noblest of the children, brushed a golden lock of hair from his forehead.

“We must have crossed into a magical world!” I rolled my eyes and threw an empty beer can at a squirrel.

“I think we should back,” sniveled George. “It’s cold and

“I agree with the weasel-faced kid. It’s cold out here and I double-parked my car.”

“But you didn’t drive,” Magical Protagonist Nazi Boy said. “You took the train t get here, right?”

I shot Mein Kampf an icy look but he was busy lobbing snowballs at his siblings.

I had to follow them through the forest, hating myself all the way. After countless stops to look at cute animals and observe beautiful vistas, we came to the end of the trees and looked out at a vast landscape, littered with fantasy stereotypes. There was a castle shining in the distance, an ominous mountain churning smog and bringing darkness into the world, and, directly next to us, a bright eyed half-goat half-man.

“Hello-o-o-o-o children! Welcome to the magical land of…”

“Hey, goat boy, shut up for a second.”

“I…oh, I didn’t see you back there, skulking in the shadows. Usually…usually only children can pass through the magic portal."

I lit a cigarette and blew smoke into his stupid goat face. “Yeah, well, I have the innocence of a child. Or maybe your time machine doesn’t work anymore. Either way, I don’t really give a shit. Where can I get something to eat around here?”

“Well,” the goat-thing said, “you could come to my little cabin, dug into the side of this beautiful grassy knoll! I’ll make elderberry pancakes and chocolate mousse! We’ll drink fizzy tea and discuss the grave political matters that plague our fair nation of..."

“Yeah right,” I said, taking a knee and placing my hand on Little Girl’s shoulder, “let’s follow a strange animal person down a hole in the ground. No horror movies start like that.”

The goat man wrinkled his nose and narrowed his eyes. “I assure you good sir, I am a noble faun. We treat our guests with respect and…”

“It’s an adventure!” the kids yelled in unison. It’s like a prolonged migraine, the joy of children, so I popped a few Xanax and we made the hike to Goatlinger’s place.

On the journey in the middle of our journey to some other journey, the fucking kids kept singing songs to the tune of our goat-guide’s fruity pipe. It took everything in me not to just drop my pants and engage in an old-fashioned pants-free goat killing session. The only thing that kept me from committing trans-species murder was the thought of eating that goat-person once we got to his place.


Wednesday, 25 January 2012


You know, as the curator and chief correspondent of one of Chicago's most underwhelming-slash-barely-tolerated blogs in the entire blogosphere (or is it pronounced "blog-ESP-hire"?), I truly see it as my responsibility to share different and exciting new forms of media, and to write about a menagerie of entertainment. It would be self-indulgent to just write mindless (and parenthetically prominent) movie reviews, and simply insisting you watch the things on Netflix Instant I tell you to is just sheer flatulence (sp?). So with that note, and your best interest for original material in mind...I'm going to write another blog promoting a rock and roll show I am playing in!!! Go creative expressionism!
But in all seriousness (BECAUSE I'M VERY SERIOUS), tomorrow, THURSDAY THE 26TH, there is going to be an all-night audible assault on the senses of rock music, heavy vibes, screeching feedback, and a healthy dose of chords and mash. KILLER MOON, THE MULTICOLOURED MIRRORS, and THE CLAMS @ 9:00 pm, THE BURLINGTON 3425 W. FULLERTON. It's only 5 bucks (or maybe 7? The invite is certainly not clear), so if you don't have anything else going on, you owe it to yourself, your friends, and your ears to get the fuck down The Burlington, buy a few beers, and shake your head till your neck hurts with some no good burnt out psych-nics. Let's get our hands dirty shall we?

The Clams, a groovin' Chicago local rock band I have had the pleasure of playing with before, are starting off the night with healthy doses of DRONE, DRUMS, AND DIG. Their songs span decades with countless influences and infusions of sounds, but never stays too comfortably in one genre. But don't misread me when I say these fuckers rock, because they do. But within their tripped out jams drenched with plenty of screeching goodness, they can still surprise you with droney audio panoramas and thrashing, unforgiving drums that put their own interpretationon psychedelia and garage rock. I like to just close my eyes and let the rush of their rock and roll vibrate through the walls and the floors and me all at the same time.

The Multicoloured Mirrors (THAT'S THE BAND I PLAY IN) is a sonic train wreck of sounds. Local Chicago DJ (Name Deleted Upon Request of DJ…although I promise she DEFINITELY isn't sleeping with one of the band members) said, "Seeing the Multicoloured Mirrors is like waking up from sleep paralysis. You've tried so hard with other bands, but you can finally move it and shake it to some rock and roll that isn't afraid to push the limits of the sound barrier. This shit is loud and fresh." (Ohh, isn't that nice? Thanks Alli.)

The Mirrors in 2009. Oh. We're hammered by the way. Also, don't be alarmed by the whole "GSMD" thing. 2009 was a much more free and loving time.

The Mirrors have grown out of my altar-ego, The Sea Green, over the past few years. Personally, I love playing with those sons of bitches. Gets my dick wetter than a fire hydrant. But things like stressful work schedules, lack of funds, bombardments of previous commitments, lead singers leaving the country for a year and a half, and one member's (who shall remain private) sex-change operation, have kept The Mirrors from being a consistent act in the Chicago (or at least Logan Square) psychedelic rock scene. But with more shows like this one we plan on changing that. Then we plan on having sex with your face and ears and body via our loud-ass music.

Killer Moon (or The Killer Moon to their friends) headline the night with what is sure to be another explosion of the darkest, heaviest psychedelic sounds to ever smash your head into an oblivion. I love Killer Moon, I party with Killer Moon, I live with Killer Moon, I have already written about Killer Moon on this blog. Read about it here. Everything I said is still true.
So come get weird with us at The Burlington. There is a pretty good chance you won't regret it that much at all.

Monday, 23 January 2012

What's On Netflix Instant 2

Okay, I know this one has been a long time comin', but hey don't get too worked up with me about it. I'M JUST ONE MAN. No, no, I'm sorry, this is MY fault, not yours. I'm sorry baby, I haven't been as good to you as I know I should be. Can you forgive me? Please? Awww that's right, you know I love you. You know I only want you to get Netflix Instant recommendations from me, not from any of those OTHER blogs...they don't care about you like I care about you. What's that, sugar pop? Of course I like what you're wearing, you look fantastic. No, I always like what you're wearing. Well I didn't say anything because I didn't know it was new! I didn't know it was new beacause you have a whole closet full of fucking clothes! Look, if this is how you're going to be then you SHOULDN'T be surprised when I drink a six pack on the train ride home from work EVERY NIGHT. Oh GOD don't cry!

Here are some recommendations.

The Vicious Kind (2009) - Lee Toland Krieger

The Vicious Kind tells the story of a family of asshole during a Thanksgiving Break. Peter (Alex Frost) is taking his new college girlfriend (Brittany Snow) home with him for Thanksgiving. They get a ride from his older brother Caleb (played by Adam Scott, who was the reason I watched this movie, and also why the movie is awesome, and holy fucking shit I LOVE ADAM SCOTT). Caleb is a complete asshole. He thinks he's better than everyone else, and feels cheated by life that that the world has not acknowledged his obvious superiority, and is instead a construction worker who talks about architecture and states simply, "I build homes." He won't speak with their father (the wonderful J.K. Simmons, who is also a complete asshole, but in a different way), chain smokes, drinks too much, and has insomnia.

Caleb wants to protect his younger brother Peter (who is the least asshole-y of the family, and therefore the most unrealized character) from possible heartbreak from his new girlfriend, but ends up becoming infatuated with her himself. It's a pretty fearless movie. It says things and has characters act in ways that are sometimes shocking and extremely mean-spirited. But it's funny. And it's well written and smart enough for it to never seem too mean beyond redemption. I really dug this movie. Eeeeeehhh, quick sidenote the end actually kinda flounders a bit and is lame. It's the one part of the movie where the writer/director stops being fearless in exchange for a more conventional ending. It is a shame to see him end it like that, but it's still a really good flick and worth your time and ADAM SCOTT!!!!

The League (2009 - ) - Jeff Shaffer, Jackie Marcus Shaffer

The League is a comedic television series about a group of friends who play Fantasy Football. BARF. I hate football--well, all sports really, but football is definitely one of them. And the only thing I hate more that football is FANTASY football. So months ago when Netflix isntant told me I would like The League I told it, not even in a joking tone, to fuck itself. Then about 8 months later I was suuuuuuper hung over and didn't know what to watch. I was reminded that Mark Duplass is one of the stars of the League, and I really like Mark Duplass. I decided to watch it. Holy shit. I love The League. It's really just a comedy about friends hanging out and dealing with every day life of work, relationships, kids (original I know). Let me preface and say that I could not find many great Youtube links for the show. Just trust me and watch a few episodes.

Oh and it's Chicago based. Not too shabby.

Southland Tales (2006) - Richard Kelly

I can't possibly put it off any longer; it was only a matter of time before I mention this movie in my blog. I have to strongly recommend Southland Tales to EVERYBODY IN THE WORLD. If you know me (and for that I am truly sorry) there is a good chance you've heard me talk about Richard Kelly's bizarre amalgamation of a film. It is a religious allegory, a political satire, an action film, totally sci-fi, a slapstick comedy (it has several MadTV and SNL actors in it because why not), and even has some musical numbers. After his success with Donnie Darko, I must imagine some studio execs were like, "alright Richard, ya did good with that Rabbit movie, so we're gonna give you 17 million dollars (actual budget) to do whatever you want." And I imagine little Richard Kelly shot his load right there in his pants. He had all these ideas for a movie, his true opus, and must have decided "fuck it! I'm gonna MAKE ALL OF THEM!"

And he did.

It stars Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson, Sean William Scott, Sarah Michelle Gellar, Justin Timberlake, Mandi Moore, Holmes Osbourne, Amy Poehler, Cheri Oteri, John Lovits, Shawn Wallace, Kevin Smith, and Will Sasso. That might not seem like a great cast to you. You might be wrong (except Kevin Smith cuz fuck that guy).

(I also realized through making this blog that both Southland Tales and The Vicious Kind are available in full on Youtube. So if you don't have Instant you can still watch both these gems!)