Site News: Shippin’ Up to Sundance

I don’t know why I put a Motörhead song here.  I guess I hoped the hardcoreness of it might distract you from a post about me going to a fruity, farty, foo-foo film festival*.

So, without turning this into my own personal travel blog, I wanted to give a quick update on how things are going to work around here for the next week.  I’ll be in Sundance for the the next seven or eight days, rubbing shoulders, elbows, and possibly wiener tips with rich, famous movie stars pretentious hipsters. What that means for you is that Burnsy and Danger Guerrero will be picking up some of the normal news-posting duties. I’m a fan of their work, and I’ve unbound their hands and unzipped the mouth holes on their leather masks long enough for them to bring the funny, as long as they promise not to embarrass me by doing it too well (if anyone figures out how easy this is, I might not be able to afford these silk monogrammed wank rags).

Meanwhile and concurrently, I’ll be writing reviews, posting pictures, interviews, etc., and bringing you the latest from out here.  Actually, I have no idea what I’m going to get.  Der Sundance Ministry of Propaganda denied my press badge request for the second year in a row, so I’m doing this guerilla style.  Gayrilla style.  Whatever.  I thought about getting all offended and self-righteous blogboy about it for a while, but then I realized I’ve never let trying to look like a “serious professional” stand in the way of a good queef joke or cat photoshop, and quickly fast-fowarded to the final stage of grief, fat acceptance.  I made this bed, and now I have to sleep in it, even if the sheets smell like farts.  Oh dangit, now Burnsy and DG are making out. I KNEW I SHOULDN’T HAVE UNZIPPED THE MOUTH HOLES.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy getting the heads’ up on movies that might not be out for a year, pictures with funny captions, insightful observations, and maybe even interviews with people you’ve never heard of.  And if you’re here in Park City and you recognize me**, hit me up, I’ll give you a shirt. That’s what my dad used to do when the other kids wouldn’t play with me.  Mom got them free from the Hooters where she worked.

*also the name of my indie band, etc.
**I wasn’t even off the shuttle yet when the first person asked me if I knew I looked Luke Walton. I can imagine that getting annoying if I lived in LA.

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