LULLABY OF CLUBLAND

1. Paranormal Activity/Paramount Wknd/$ 22.0 Total/$ 62.5

2. Saw VI/Lion’s Gate Wknd/$ 14.8 Total/$ 14.8

3. Where the Wild Things Are/Warner Wknd/$ 14.8 Total/$ 54.0

4. Law Abiding Citizen/Over Wknd/$ 12.7 Total/$ 40.3

5. Couples Retreat/Universal Wknd/$ 11.1 Total/$ 78.2

6. Astro Boy/Summit Wknd/$ 7.0 Total/$ 7.0

7. The Stepfather/SG Wknd/$ 6.5 Total/$ 20.4

8. The Vampire’s Assistant/Universal Wknd/$ 6.3 Total/$ 6.3

9. Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs Wknd/$ 5.6 Total/$ 115.2

10. Zombieland/Sony Wknd/$ 4.3 Total/$ 67.3

GHOSTS HATE FRAT BOYS

Paranormal Activity jumps to number one and supposedly there’s a warning tale of sexism here because while the couple is warned about their haunting and the girl is terrified, the boyfriend disregards her fear and continues the tapings that make up the film. I think we know what happens to people who are warned not to fuck with the supernatural…

SAW XVI IN 2019

Saw VI opens at number two behind a movie that’s been out for over a month and is in a thousand less theaters. Are people finally turning away from the torture porn for a horror film that relies on actual skill? You wish. This only cost $11M to make and made $14M opening a week before Halloween. Imagine what it’ll make next week. Look for Saw VII next year.

AND NEVER EVER WHEN THE MOON IS FULL

Where the Wild Things are is down to number three and nope, I still haven’t seen this. Now that football has started I’ve pretty much lost Sunday as a movie day, because I just don’t go during the week. Or at night. Or on days with an “R” in them. Just kidding about that last one, but not that week thing.

TRULY HOOKIN’ A BRUTHA UP

Law Abiding Citizen is down to number four, followed by Couples Retreat at number five and Faizon Love must be a buddy of Vince Vaughn and Jon Favreau (he was in the Favreau directed Elf) because there’s no other reason this fat non-acting bastard has this role which requires something requiring acting skill. Think of all the other talented Black actors who missed out on the “One Black Friend” role.

SIT IT RIGHT NEXT TO GODZILLA AS JAPANESE CONCEPTS WE CANNOT DUPLICATE

Astro Boy opens poorly at number six and this is one of the most famous anime characters of all time and if you don’t know that, well that says it all about why it opened the way it did. I can honestly say I’ve never really seen any Astro Boy cartoons though I’ve known about him all my life and always wondered what the hell was up with him running around in a pair of shorts and nothing else. He’s a little boy. Could you be more creepy? In any case, in the original story Astro Boy is a robot created by a scientist to replace the son he lost in a car accident (notice how he’s got no motivation to recreate his wife). When he realizes the robot will never replace his son, he sells him to the circus where he’s eventually rescued and begins his adventures fighting evil robots and alien invaders. One huge mistake the film makes is actually letting us meet the boy Astro is based upon, so we have to watch him die. Seriously. We see the kid killed. What. The. Fuck? Why would you do that? This only serves to place all our sympathies with his creator Dr. Tenma (voiced by Nicholas Cage). Then there’s the matter of how he uses a hair from his late son to build Astro, technically making him a bit of a clone, but this isn’t played up, which is also a mistake. Also, Astro Boy was an adventure manga and cartoon. He fought evil robots and aliens. Know who he fights here? The leader of the city who’s trying to start a war to get reelected. Yeah, exactly. Sure there are robots used, but it’s not the same. You need a real bad guy. Real bad robots. And for the luvva Pete, a cute gang of orphan kids? Really? Do we really need this still!?!

HOW NOT TO MAKE A CAREER IN ONE EASY LESSON

The Stepfather is down to number seven and the question is which Gossip Girl cast member will be able to use the show’s heat to their advantage? Well, judging by the performance of this film, it ain’t Dan, aka, Penn Badgley. But if he needs a warning about how not to make the most of a hot show, he’s got Sherry Stringfield here in the cast. Remember her from e.r’s white-hot glory days? She walked away from the show at its peak apparently for love---only to return a few years later, not that anyone was still watching to notice.

AWWWW, FREAK OUT

Cirque Du Freak: The Vampire’s Assistant opens at number eight and clearly not every book about a teenage vampire is going to take. First of all, where’s your teenage girl so they can long chastely for one another? I know nothing about this and like most people I’ve no interest in learning and honestly, playing up the teen vampire thing actually put me off. I was more interested in a kid joining up with a freak circus than that.

THIS WEEK ON ZOMBIELAND: GEORGE WENDT STOPS BY FOR A CHEERS REUNION

Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs is down to number nine, followed by Zombieland and believe it or not, this was originally pitched as a TV series. Seriously. Who the fuck wants to watch a zombie comedy week after week!?! So know there are built in sequels coming. Also in this is Amber Heard, who has apparently built a career on based on websites like TheSuperficial and Egotastic, because it’s the only place I’ve ever seen her name. She’s also “the girlfriend” in The Stepfather, so if you need an up and coming pretty girl to just be that, she’s your go-to right now. She must have been on at least one Maxim cover by now. Her one starring role was All The Boys Love Mandy Lane, which had a lot of buzz but never got a theatrical release.

WHAT THE YOUNG PEOPLE ARE DOING WHILE WE’RE WATCHING SNL

So last week I was hanging out in New Jersey with an ex-boss and this weekend I was hanging out with another ex-boss in final outing of her “I quit” trifecta. She resigned and arranged for multiple “goodbye” outings. Hell, she took us out for drinks just to tell us she was leaving. The first outing was for drinks at a Mexican place where sadly, I was the first casualty. How does that happen? Well, I’ll tell you how. First, I had no idea I’d be drinking that night so I couldn’t do my prep, which is usually a heavy, greasy lunch. Wendy’s has always been my go-to choice for before a night of drinking. But this time I had a very light lunch. So when I not only drank my tequila shot but the shots of a few other people (I remember four, maybe five) along with the margaritas I was drinking…it wasn’t long before someone was helping me into a cab and I was taking up my traditional slot wrapped in comforter on the hallway floor in front of my bathroom. It’s been a while since I’ve been that drunk. In fact, the last time was when I first started my job and again, it was tequila, my bitch goddess. I woke up 12 hours later, went to a movie, and then burned off my hangover with a bike ride. The next outing was a week later at a local bar on her official last day and with the memory of the previous outing still fresh in my mind, I drew the line at one shot and just drank from the “tower of beer” that we kept getting refilled. That’s when I discovered another problem: I can’t eat crap like I used too. The bar food which came in great quantities began to affect me almost immediately. Since when have nachos and wings and spring rolls been a problem? I tell you when: if they’re frozen and not fresh. A recent bad experience with frozen chicken pot pie has taught me that even though my diet doesn’t seem that great, it’s not packed full of preservatives like this crap and its effect on me was devastating. So I wasn’t the first to leave, but I was done by 9:00, which is usually unheard of. This final night out I did my prep with a nice turkey burger and soda from Lucky’s. As it turns out my now ex-boss was once married to a DJ and was quite the club hopper, so the final party was at a club called Rebel on 30^th street between 8^th and 9^th. We got in free and by “we” I mean me. With the exception of her nutritionalist and her personal trainer and his friend, everyone else seemed to bail because of the weather. I felt for her. When I’m your only attendee on a Saturday night, your party has truly failed. That said, the club was interesting. It was two stories divided into three spaces. The first space was the ground floor and they were playing more Depeche Mode sounding work, which was empty and remained so. On the mezzanine was a small lounge area and coat check. On the second floor were the two remaining dance spaces, the largest being the “house” room with a central dance floor surrounded by booths, one of which was ours, which was oddly next to a booth filled with a group of hearing-impaired people. Um, okay. I guess you can feel the beat if you can’t hear it. The "house" room had the largest crowd, but frankly I find that repetitive music boring as hell. But apparently you can dance to it and text at the same time, which made it clear I come from another generation. The final, smallest room was the hip-hop room, where we wound up because that’s the music my ex-boss prefers---along with her love of black men. Oh, yes. The things you learn while out drinking with co-workers. But that thankfully never applied to me because people (men and women) with a preference for Black men usually like them to be hypermasculine, borderline stereotypical. Professional athletes and rap stars. You know, like the way Madonna liked her bruthas. Not geeks like me. And basically once her nutrionalist left there she was in the hip-hop room with a bunch of black guys and at one point sandwiched between two of them on the dance floor. But she wasn’t the only one. There was another white girl there with her black boyfriend who pretty much lapdanced for her pleasure while she sat back sipping her drink. And then there was there was the white girl there in the mini-skirt and knee-high boots with her tall, gawky, crewneck-sweater-wearing boyfriend and when he stopped attempting to dance, she kept going---with the black girls who came in, much to their surprise, but they rolled with it because we tend to like white people who are very enthusiastic towards us. As much as I do enjoy the people watching it grows old without someone to do it with and since Chasing Amy had blown me off yet again, I packed it up around 1:30, which is pretty early as far as clubbing goes. I can’t remember the last time I actually set foot in a club, so it may be another million years before I do it again.

I FINALLY UNDERSTAND THOSE WOMEN WHO DON’T KNOW THEY’RE PREGNANT

I can be spectacularly obtuse at times, so when I began to feel uncomfortable in my clothes I genuinely had no idea why. Suddenly, my belt was hurting me, pushing in against my stomach. How? Why? These are the questions I asked myself…AS I MADE A BOWL OF MOLTEN CHEESE! Seriously, it never occurred to me that eating a cheese dip made from butter, white flour, whole milk and half-a-pound of cheese every week for two straight months would result in even more gut. My belt wasn’t suddenly pushing in, I was suddenly pushing out more. So this weekend there was no cheese dip. Nor were there frozen margaritas. And then the ultimate step: I rejoined a fucking gym which is why I’m just one mass of aching flab right now (if I don’t stop taking Advil I’m going to be like that girl on Grey’s Anatomy who took so much to work out it killed her) Yeah, I could have gone back to kung-fu, but I’m still not there mentally yet. My discipline is weak. I still need to be on my own schedule. Not to mention this is a lot cheaper (a third of the cost) and there’s a pool. I have missed the water more than kicking people in the head. Sadly, the beautiful pool set up at Crunch is a thing of the past. They were another recession victim so a pool on third floor with thousand foot ceilings and giant windows to let in the sun or see the stars is a thing of the past. Now I’m under fucking Worldwide Plaza in the basement at Ballys. Sigh. And if leave-nothing-to-the-imagination yoga pants were dangerous in the street, they’re going to kill me in the gym when I’m hoisting weights over my head. Lady, we get it: your ass is a thing of wonder. Can you put on some baggy sweats now? And raven-haired Russian girl in the pool? If you’re killing it in your little bikini (and you were) and the guy you’re talking to still won’t give you more than “I’ve been busy. I’ll call” then he’s just not that into you.

OCEAN’S 1

One thing I like about the shows on the USA Network is that they’re usually about smart people who are very good at their jobs but with a cynical sense of humor. Burn Notice and In Plain Sight are like this and now White Collar joins the group with an exceptional thief and con man partnered with the FBI agent who caught him. It’s very much fantasy fluff, but it’s the kind I like. Of course the only reason he breaks out of jail is for love. Of course when he’s told he had to buy his clothes at a thrift store he runs into Dianne Carroll donating her late husband’s designer wear to charity. Of course they fit him perfectly. Of course when he’s told he can’t live anywhere that costs more than $700 a month she’s got a room for him for just that much in her $100M mansion. Of course her beautiful granddaughter sometimes stays there. But the show is self-aware enough to have the FBI Agent be upset that all these things just managed to happen for him. The lead is best known to some of you as Bryce Larkin from Chuck and while I like Chuck well enough, I do prefer my heroes to be good looking and they don’t come much prettier than this guy and there’s at least one scene where he must show off his chiseled torso. But we all like a good pretty boy thief with their heart in the right place, going back to Cary Grant trying to clear his name in To Catch A Thief, to Robert Wagner working for the government in It Takes a Thief to George Clooney and Brad Pitt just plain old stealing in the Ocean’s movies. Plus, they have my great weakness: they clearly film it here in NYC.