Discovering Twin Peaks 20 Years Too Late

I never watched Twin Peaks when I was a kid. I remember hearing about it, mostly because when you hear someone say “Log Lady” you don’t just ignore that, but I was 11 when it came out and I don’t think it was a show my parents would let me watch. I was probably more interested in Cheers and Mr. Belvedere, anyway.

So yeah, now it’s on Netflix Instant and Ian and I have been watching. I fell asleep about halfway through the first episode, which was two hours long, and I was drifting in and out of the second one that we watched last night. Right now we’re watching the third and so far I’m staying awake much better, although I don’t really know what the hell is going on. I suppose I should read up on the first two episodes on Wikipedia.

But honestly, the only thing that keeps going through my mind is “God damn, Lara Flynn Boyle was really, really pretty before she went and fucked up her face with all that plastic surgery.”

Some deer inside the inflatable Meatwad

Some kids sitting on folding chairs inside of the inflatable Meatwad told me the deer were Meatwad’s brain. I told them they obviously have never seen an episode of Aqua Teen Hunger Force. They asked what that was. I shook my head and walked out.

As I was leaving, I heard them say, “That was weird.”

Yeah, I’m the weird one. You assholes are sitting inside a giant inflatable meatball and don’t have any idea what it means.

Nine years in four months, and I’m (almost) done with The X-Files

Agents Mulder and ScullyI finished the last episode of The X-Files on Sunday, which saddened me a bit more than I expected. I have been tweeting my way through the series since I started watching it back in late June, and I was going to paste all of those tweets in this post, but I think I’m going to wait. I started reading back through them and they are freaking hilarious. I was so naive back in the first couple of seasons.

I still have the second movie to watch, so I think I’m going to wait until I have a chance to watch and tweet that and then post all of the updates. I’m sure it will only be funny to me to read back through my reaction to nine years of a series watched in four months, but I’d like to have a record of the experience since I have so much time invested in it.

I’d also like to point out that Ian bitched out on me somewhere in the second half of season seven, so I’ve been watching the episodes by myself. With no one but the cats and the Internet to scream in despair to. The joke’s on him, though: I’m totally going to make him watch the second movie with me.

Feeding my addiction

My hilarious friend/co-worker Jamie had this surprise waiting for me when I got back to work on Monday: A Special Agent Fox Mulder action figure!! The note with him makes it even more awesome. I can’t stop laughing.


Every night for the last two weeks Ian and I have been watching at least three episodes of The X-Files, more if we’re not too tired. When I got back from my trip to Chicago for my sister’s pre-wedding festivities earlier this week, Ian and I realized that while I was gone we both had to fight the urge to watch more episodes. That’s love, people: Resisting your current favorite TV show until your spouse is home to watch it with you. And they say romance is dead!

We started season three last night and the show is still scaring the crap out of me. I had a moment of insanity the other night when I was downstairs shutting off all of the lights before bed. As I started to walk up the stairs, out of the corner of my eye I saw a dark shadow moving toward me (Link) and heard a creepy voice (Ian talking to Gordo upstairs) and I screamed a blood-curdling scream. I’m not even kidding; I freaked the fuck out. And then laughed so hard I almost pissed myself.

Good times, those X-Files.

Discovering The X-Files

Last Sunday Ian and I discovered Netflix has all nine seasons of The X-Files available for streaming, which might not have been the best thing for us to discover at the beginning of the summer. But then again it’s been in the high 80s or low 90s when we get home from work most days, so it’s not like we’re going to be doing a lot outside, anyway.

I don’t really know why I never got into the show while it was on, although I’ve always been behind the curve when it comes to watching popular TV shows. I didn’t get into The Office or Lost until last year, and I’m just now watching NewsRadio (which you might recall from 1995). It’s safe to say that Netflix streaming through Xbox Live has changed my life.

Anyway, back to The X-Files. Holy crap. See, here’s the thing: I don’t like scary movies. I cannot handle them. At all. I’m the type of person who will see a 30-second trailer for a horror movie on TV at 7 p.m. and then have nightmares and not be able to take a shower for the next three days without screaming at random shadows on the wall.

But The X-Files is a good enough show that I am willing to risk getting the crap scared out of me. And it’s not all horror-scary; the creepy factor and conspiracy theories appeal to me greatly. I don’t think about ghosts or extra-terrestrials very often, but I definitely can buy into the idea that the government is keeping evidence of their existence from us.

It also doesn’t hurt that Mulder is easy on the eyes—and Scully, too. I’m trying not to search for info on the other seasons but let’s just say I’ll be very disappointed if those two don’t board the spacecraft to sexytown. (I initially wrote “make their own sexfile” but then realized there is probably an actual sci-fi-themed porno out there by that name. Squick.)

We’re almost done with season one now, and it took me a few episodes to put my finger on something that has seemed odd to me. But I finally realized: This show, at least the season we’re watching now, was made before the Internet was used by everyone and their grandmother. When they are running all over a town or making 100 calls trying to dig up information on someone I keep wanting to scream “GOOGLE IT FOR CHRISSAKES!” or “Just Facebook him, GAH!” but I need to remember that in 1994 the Internet was some newfangled thing that very few people knew about. And even if Scully and Mulder had Internet access, if they wanted to use it to search for information they would have had to use Infoseek or Lycos.

And probably a 28.8k modem. Barf.

Look at this fucking corporate shill

So you know all those annoying hipster kids that run around drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon “ironically”? You know, the beer that the rest of us drank when we were broke-ass college students barely making rent and it was either that or Natty Light? The beer that fills the styrofoam coolers of our redneck brethren at family barbecues or tailgates? But these kids drink it because it means “anti-mainstream” and “I do my own thing, I don’t follow society’s rules”?

Back in 2004, Pabst executed a highly effective word-of-mouth campaign that made the long-declining brand an “ironic downscale chic” choice for bike messengers and other younger drinkers who viewed the beer as a statement of non-mainstream taste., as reported on


So all you kids drinking PBR because you think it makes you look cool and ironic and like you’re bucking mainstream? Yeah, you’re really just part of a corporate marketing campaign and you’re doing exactly what The Man intended for you to do.

Enjoy your shitty beer.

Best comment I’ve read in a while

From the Nashville Scene’s Nashville Cream blog post “Kings of Leon at The Sommet Center, 10/16/09”:

Can’t we all get along? Stop this arguing. There’s too much sand in your collective vaginas. This world should just be one finger-bangin’ party, where angular haircuts, men in capri pants or “lands end sweaters” and girls in fresh “American Apparel hoodies” and “tote bags bigger than their midsections” can cohabitate with rock critics and rock stars. You know, ride the minivan people–two fingers up front, three in the back!

Amen, brother. A-fuckin’-men.

The Michael Jackson that died yesterday is not the one you are mourning

I don’t understand the “He’s gone too soon” reaction to Michael Jackson’s death. Two days ago, Michael Jackson was a broke pedophile freakshow living in Dubai. We were never going to get another Thriller, another Off the Wall, even another Bad.

It’s always sad when someone dies, especially 30 or so years before normal life expectancy. But Michael Jackson wasn’t normal. Did we really expect to see him at 80 sitting in a rocking chair on a porch some day?

At one time, he was an extraordinary talent: He made incredible music and danced like no human will ever be able to perfectly replicate.

But the Michael Jackson that everyone is mourning today?

He died years ago.

A response to People magazine’s article about Sarah Palin

In case you missed it (and you probably did), People magazine ran an article Sept. 16 called “Five (More) Things You Didn’t Know About Sarah Palin.” When I saw the title I thought, “Oooh did People magazine get some dirt?” Then I slapped myself for being that stupid, and decided to just read the damn article.

Well, joyous day, you will not believe the goldmine of bullshit I discovered. I actually had to read the article twice, but I’m still not sure if People is being sarcastic. Does People do satire? Upon further review, I really think they are being genuine.

Which is why this country is doomed.

So, you ask, what are these five things I don’t already know about Sarah Palin? Well, here they are, presented in a game I’d like to call People Says/Megan Says:

People says she’s frugal because she gave someone a thank you card and didn’t sign it so the recipient “could use it again.”
Megan says she thinks too highly of herself to sign a fucking card. Why the hell would you give someone a card to THANK THEM for something and not sign your name to the expression of gratitude? Oh yeah, BECAUSE YOU’RE A CRAZY BITCH.

People says she’s a techie because she prefers texting to phone calls.
Megan says no one, NO ONE, who uses Yahoo! (or any other private email service) to circumvent the law and then gets the account hacked is allowed to call themselves a techie. Also, every 13-year-old girl on the planet prefers texting to phone calls. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say they are NOT doing this because they are technically savvy.

People says she’s a rock fan because she named her son Trig Paxton Van Palin because it sounds like “Van Halen,” a band of which she is a big fan.
Megan says she’s a REDNECK because she named her son after VAN HALEN. She named her SON after THIS.

People says she’s adaptable because she changed lipstick brands.
Megan says are you fucking kidding me?? Hey at any given time I have three different brands of shampoo in my shower. Can I be secretary of state now?

People says she’s a traditionalist because she’s against waxing her legs. Or rather, against her daughter getting her legs waxed.
Megan says she’s also against her daughter having an abortion even if she was brutally raped, she’s against two people that really love each other but happen to have the same genitalia getting married but is fine with her 17-year-old daughter marrying a self-described “fucking redneck” just because he happened to knock her up, and she’s against sex education even though it should be LARGELY obvious to her that abstinence-only education doesn’t work.

Yes, that traditionalism is working out just great.

Fuck you, People magazine, for making a mockery about a serious issue. Unless you were being sarcastic. But honestly, this country is made up of stupid assholes. Do you really think they’d all get the joke?

I guess we’ll find out in November.