What the Fuck was THAT?

Seriously!!
I just finished watching one of the most cracked out films I've seen all month. And this is coming from someone who just watched Zombie Strippers and Frankenhooker.

The movie is called Bloody Mallory. And its French.
What the Hell is up with the French?!

I found this little gem on Hulu to keep me company while the hubby is out playing WarHammer 30k (For those wondering, he has an orc army). The movie is an insane campy romp full of demons, over acting, and drag queens. And its awesome.

The story revolves around a trio of supernatural commandos made up of an angry bitch named Mallory, her drag queen pal Vena Cava, and Talkie Tina the child mute telepath. They have to rescue the pope from demons. A priest pops up later to help from someplace. There's also a wacky vampire chick and a succubus who appears to have a giant clitorus on her head.
Everyone in this movie has fabulous hair and wears leather pants.

I do believe a group of Japanese drag queens wrote this movie because its almost like a life action anime...in french.
The costumes are ridiculous, the story is insane, and the acting is pretty lame. But my god its hilariously awesome!
This movie isn't a gore fest or even scary at all. But if you're looking for a good laugh and some great camp. Check it out.
Here's the movie right here. Enjoy!

10 Minutes of Terror: Jaws. And A Bonus material!

Hey All!
Thanks again for sticking with us during this busy time.
We'll make it worth your while!
For example, we'll have to following reviews coming up from me.
Frankenhooker, Happiness of the Katakuris, Terror Firmer, and Habit
And a special live blog/joint review of Blood Feast 2 All U Can Eat by Stac and myself. Oh the hilarity! Oh the many "eating out" jokes to be had!
You know you want to stay tuned for our cude mouths.

Until Then we have 10 minutes of Terror!!!!
Sorta.

Okay so I wanted to focus on Jaws. Yeah yeah I know. We've all seen Jaws numerous times. Its become a cliche and I'm sure we can quote large sections from it.
But come on, admit it. You all pissed your pants as much as I did when you saw that first scene with the girl in the ocean and the screaming and the panting and freaking out and the wa wa wa ADMIT IT!
Despite the fact that Jaws has become completely mundane, at the time, that movie was insanely scary. Spielberg was at his finest in suspense and no frills film making. It still stands as one of my favorite scary movies of all time.
And you think such a classic film opening would be EASY TO FIND ON YOUTUBE!!!
Nope.
I could not find a decent looking version of that scene at all. So instead I bring this this loving re-enactment I found instead.
ENJOY!


I find that a little bit creepier than the original.

Also, as a bonus, I found out one of my all time favorite zombie movies [REC] is coming out with a sequel! Oh happy day! The teaser trailer is out and is only nine seconds. But its an awesome nine seconds.
Check it out!



And to end this post, here's a zombie eating a shark from the movie Zombie. I love the Italians.

Ghosts? Or Cocaine?

Courtney Love's Album Delayed By 'Paranormal Issues'

Click here for original article.

Courtney Love's Album Delayed By 'Paranormal Issues'
January 5th, 2009 11:49am EST

Courtney Love has pushed back the release of her new album after ghostly
goings-on in the studio delayed the recording.

Nobody's Daughter, the follow-up to 2004's America's Sweetheart, was due
for release through the rocker's website on January 1. But it is now scheduled for next month after "paranormal" events forced the album's producer Michael Beinhorn to abandon the studio.

In a posting on her MySpace.com page, a representative for Love writes, "The studio that Courtney and her band were using to record had some paranormal technical issues and had to be moved from one studio to another studio right around the holidays due to some technical sound issues that Beinhorn, who is a master and a genius, was not happy with.

"The room was a paranormal issue; Courtney and crew could not hear between guitars. Sound and vocal mixings have to be completed still to perfection. If Courtney had it her way she would have the studios sound-checked first but it was originally use (sic) as a hip-hop rap studio so the acoustics were all f--ked up."

VIDEO Courtney Love VIDEO

(This news article provided by World Entertainment News Network)


I have no idea how valid this news source is, but since when is faulty equipment proof of ghostly goings on? I could make the obvious joke about who's doing the haunting here, but I choose not too. Instead I'll call everyone involved in this a dork.

Fear Itself: New Years Day

Hola Peeps!
As Stac has said, life has gone a wee bit pear shaped on me but nothing I can't handle. So my entries will be brief until a couple things are fixed and a few skulls are crushed in the wake of my wrath. No need to fear for the husband. He helps hide the bodies.

Stac's freaky stories have been reminding me of the few weird ones that have happened to me. Unfortunately they're not half as entertaining as Stac's and probably double in the curse words. Perhaps I will share sometimes?

Anyways I just thought I'd share a little goodie that was suggested to me by my co-worker. My co-worker is a fellow horror fan and he consumes media and an uncanny rate. Seriously. I don't think the guy sleeps. I think he stays up all night and watches horror films, probably three at a time. He pointed me in the direction of a show called Fear Itself.
Has anyone heard of this show? Because I sure as Hell haven't. Its a horror anthology show on NBC much like the Masters of Horror series only made for network TV. This could be both good AND bad.
My co-worker said he found one episode pretty damn good. Its titled New Years Day and its directed by Daren Lynn Bousman who also directed Saw II and Saw III.
New Years Day is short film about zombies and its not half bad. I found myself extremely interested in the story. Since I can't embed the video here's the link to it.

NEW YEARS DAY

Check it out! Its not a bad watch. And the ending is...bizarrely sweet...in a horridly twisted way.

Back soon with stuff!

This is What Crazy Feels Like

Just a heads up; I'll be doing most of the posting for a bit, as Cins is having some real life shenanigans that are giving her a hard time. That, or she's drinking again.

I thought for this post I would share a real life experience of mine. I originally posted this on the somethingawful.com forums, in the winter ghost stories thread. This is all true, no fabrications. It scares me to think about now, but in a distant way, like I'd read a book or saw a movie that frightened me.

I need to preface this story with my mental state at the time this event occurred. To put it bluntly, I was not well, emotionally. I was supremely stressed out, to the point that I was manifesting physical symptoms like back pain, and at one point the muscles in my neck tensed up so badly that I couldn't turn my head. I started to have my first ever bouts with insomnia, and was just in a very bad place. I had no money, only one friend really close to me, my boyfriend was smothering me, and I was so poor I could either pay some of my bills for the month or I could eat.

I was twenty four when this happened to me. I'm almost convinced it was all in my mind, but there's still that little seed of terror that wonders if my fear just gave something a way in. I was living on my own for the first time. By alone I mean exactly that: it was just me and my cat, Remington. No roommates for the first time since I'd moved out, and for the most part I'm very glad that I opted to live alone instead of trying to find another person to live with. Part of this decision was due to the fact that I had no one to move in with me, and I couldn't face the thought of living with another complete stranger. I'm the kind of person who must have a "safe" spot, a place I can unwind in. It has to be my home, and I don't feel safe living with someone I didn't know previously.

I'm not sure what started it; maybe just the fact that I'm naturally paranoid. But I started to become very, very afraid of the crawl space in the ceiling of my bedroom closet. At first it was just general unease; I would have to make sure the closet door was closed completely before I could sleep, something that hadn't bothered me before. I would go into the closet to get dressed/whatever, and instead of doing the task I had set for myself, I would instead find myself staring up at the crawl space panel above my head. I would frequently be shocked to discover that I had wasted as much as twenty minutes a pop doing this, which is unusual for me as I am one of those fidgety people who must be doing something at all times. I can't even just sit and watch television: I'm usually drawing/reading/sewing/etc while I watch the boob tube.

I became fixated on this stupid crawl space. I would think about it when I wasn't home, and it was the first thing I inspected when I returned from being out. I had a recurring fantasy of peering up at the panel and seeing it drop slightly back into place. Then my obsession got worse, and I became convinced that there was a strange, ragged, long-haired man hiding up there, waiting to get me. Not convinced as in I called the cops, but convinced that somehow there was a strange show down that had to happen between us, and no one else was or could be involved. He was real, but I knew he was real only to me, if that makes any sense.

I tried several times to work up my courage and just climb on a chair with a flashlight, shove up the panel and see, finally, once and for all, if there was anything up there. The person I am now, and was trying to become then, would have done it. Would have lost patience, grabbed a baseball bat and a light, and had a peek. But I was so tired, and stressed out, and hopeless feeling that I just had no energy to get worked up. And part of the me was half afraid that if I looked, it would have been like Pandora's box; I would have let him out, and he would finally have been made real. It was a strange feeling, but I was convinced that he was trying to be born into the real world from my mind, but wasn't quite strong enough to leave the crawl space.

Then God smiled on me, and I ended up moving out of my apartment, and in with a friend. She lived with her father, who was planning to move closer to his girlfriend, and she and I would take over his mortgage payments in lieu of rent. Another friend of mine who was moving into town from across the country, was going to take over my lease. I was so relieved; I would be paying substantially less per month, I had another friend nearby, stuff was looking much better!

But the man in the crawl space wasn't done with me yet, apparently. The last night I slept there, something strange happened. It was just a little thing, but the effects were pretty potent for me. Most of my stuff was moved out; all that was really left was me, Remington, my bed, and general trash to clean up. There were plastic grocery bags all over the floor because I liked to use those to wrap my more delicate items in, and I has just gotten done with a box of figurines, a snow globe, things of that ilk, moved that afternoon from in my bedroom.

I had dropped off to sleep quickly, hot and tired from moving. I had been sleeping very hard when I woke up for a moment, something I do a lot of. But that night I had been so deeply asleep I hadn't even moved from the original position I had zonked out in; my joints were a little achy from not moving for so long. I was just starting to drop back off, when I heard the rustle of one of the plastic grocery bag. Coming from inside my closet.

It was like someone snapping their fingers; just like that I was wide awake, and my heart was galloping. I didn't move, and strained to listen and my mind sorted frantically through excuses for that noise to be occuring during the blackest part of the night. Remington, my mind latched onto. It was Remington, no doubt sleeping on one of the bags, as he liked to do. He liked to sleep in the closet, and I had been so busy cleaning and packing that I had totally forgotten to close the closet door before I had gone to bed.

I started to relax, my heart still beating hard, but the adrenaline was starting to fade. Goofy cat, I started to think, and then I felt Remington turn over. He was on the bed with me, sleeping cuddled up against the backs of my knees. Then the bag rustled again.

To this day, I have no idea what caused that. I don't know what happened next, because the next thing I knew, it was morning, and everything was once again normal.

What was it? What or who caused that noise? I don't know. I do know two things though: the only living things in my apartment that night were myself and my cat. An I know that I was not dreaming, though at the time I had badly wished I was. I don't know why I abruptly fell back asleep, either.

I also know that whatever fears I had in the apartment, I left there. After I moved out, I wasn't afraid of the man anymore.

Your Mother Doesn't Love You

The time has come to tell a tale, a tale of a mother who probably hates her kids. But first, some family back story! You're welcome!

My older sister is quite a bit older than I am; eleven years. There is the same amount of time between myself and my sister as their is between myself and my sister's oldest daughter, Jessi. Why did I tell you this? Because my oldest nephew (Jessi's brother) made me a fuckin' great aunt, and I'm feeling insecure about my age, dammit! Now, on to the tale.

Jessi is dating a really nice guy named, uh, Tall Boy. Boy is local to the little sparkling edge of Washington state that portion of my family lives in. He grew up on a farm, and as such had one of those bizzarro childhoods where you name the cow and then eat it. For some reason Boy's mom felt it imperative to terrorize her offspring. I've never met this woman but I can't wait to; something tells me she and I are going to get along like a house on fire. That we probably set ourselves. Apparently she once came home from a planning meeting, a touch tipsy, and informed Boy that she adored Jessi, but that she wasn't deaf. You can imagine my niece's delight, yes? Her sons also figured out that they could get out of being grounded if they found a nice juicy cut of gossip for her. Would that my own groundings had been so easy to weasel out of.

Apparently one of her favorite tricks, though, was to send her small children into the basement to get something for her. Being little boys they were of course, terrified of the basement; what little kid isn't? I used to sleep in our basement and I was afraid of it. Once the poor little munchkins had wandered down, she would lock the door and turn off the lights. Now, let me clarify. I work with kids while I'm going through college; I have for most of my life. I have been assured by most of these kids that I am pure evil, and I delight in the suffering of others. They dubbed me The Devil Aunt, and that is complete truth. The point of my little dissertation? Even I would never something like that. I wouldn't even do that to a teenager or an adult, and I have a much lower tolerance for those age groups than I do for kids.

Boy's mother would laugh while her sons pounded against the door and screamed. Making this even more surreal, Boy laughs his hinder off when he tells these tales. I have no idea if this is some form of "hard love" or something, but my suspicions are that she didn't actually want kids. I have told Boy this. He thinks I'm kidding.

The final tale (for now, I'm sure) is the story of the car's break down. Like most kids (myself included), especially those of the right age during a movie release, Boy and his brother were terrified of Freddy Krueger. Most parents would be eager to remind their children that not only did Freddy not exist, he didn't exist a long, long way away from where they were currently located. Not Boy's mom. Oh ho ho noooooo. One day, in the middle of winter, as a storm is heading in, she pretends the car has stalled out and died. They were out in the countryside somewhere, and had come to stop next to a large, dilapidated house, (I think Boy said it was probably abandoned) and informs her children that the car has mysteriously died. Oh, and see that house over there? Yeah, Freddy lives there, so they had better get the car started before he realizes that they are stranded out in his driveway.

The little kids, understandably, Lose. Their. Shit. Mom climbs out, puts up the hood of the car (so now they can't see her, but can still clearly see The House that the Child Killer Built) and pretends to poke at the engine. Miraculously, she "fixes" the problem, and drives triumphantly away. According to Boy, this was so she would be the hero; Mom saved them from Freddy Kruegar!

WHO GIVES FREDDY A PERMANENT ADDRESS IN THE FIRST PLACE?!

Boy thinks this story is hilarious, and laughs uproariously as he tells it. After hearing this for the first time I was forced to inform Boy that his mother either didn't want kids or simply didn't like the ones she got. I seriously can't wait to meet this woman; I'll bet if no one was looking she probably would have simply consumed her children when they were infants.

Back From The Abyss! Oh, and Zombie Strippers.

So we have returned from the dark abyss known as the holiday season. But I got lots of swag and managed to spoil my 8 month old nephew so it was a good time.
Hopefully we haven't lost any of you peeps out there. If so, perhaps we could lure you back with cookies?
If not, how about a review of Zombie Strippers?

Will that work?
Come on all, lets ring in the new year with fake titties and gore! Who could ask for anything more?!


I honestly think I'm one of the very few women who wanted to really see this movie. Seriously. I jumped up and down on the couch, grabbed my husband's arm and yelled 'WE HAVE TO SEE THIS!!" to him when I first saw the trailer online. After that moment I was granted the title "best wife ever" which I wear with pride. Unfortunately, we couldn't find a showing of it in our city so we had to wait until DVD. And that moment was last night.

And lemme tell ya, it was one hellava ride!
Here's a taste of the movie if you have no idea what I'm talking about.



The long and short of Zombie Strippers is as follows: The government created a chemical to create super solders. But unfortunately due to a long paragraph of scientific sounding words that really make no sense, it turns people into zombies. The marines are called in to take care of things, one infected escapes, hides out in a strip club then bites Jenna Jameson on the neck during a performance. The infection both kills her and turns her into a super zombie stripper which drive the men folks wild I tells ya! WILD! But lil' Jenna unfortunately has that hunger for human flesh and it creates a bit of chaos as the weeks roll by. Before you know it, we're all sitting on the edge of Armageddon holding paintball guns and trying to guess which breasts are real and which ones were store bought.
This, my friends, was an awesome movie.

Zombie Strippers is pure fun. The cast obviously had a blast making it. The acting was porn star level but what do you expect when you have a porn star as your leading zombie? And to Miss Jameson's credit, she was fantastic. The woman cracked me up. She had no problem playing something mildly disgusting and even poked fun at herself and her porn persona. But of course, for that horror touch of class, Robert Englund elevated this movie from B to all out cult classic. I love this man. He makes what probably would have been a throw away part as the strip club's sleazy yet germophobic owner into a role that completely steals the show.

But the biggest star of this movie was not Englund or Jenna Jameson's boobs but the clown gore. OH THE GLORIOUS CLOWN GORE! There were some fantastic gags in this film. We have a head being torn in half, a peen getting bit off, Jenna Jameson staple gunning her throat back together, a zombie stripper catfight, and probably the funniest joke involving ping-pong and billiard balls ever. And these are just a few of the highlights. CGI was minimal and they relied on good old fashioned makeup and blood effects which just made this movie all the better.

The big question I'm sure is "But Cins, this movie lacks your favorite angry bitches! Wouldn't you be offended by this?" Well, being a woman zombie fan I obviously when into this film for the zombies and not the strippers. But do I have something against boobies? Nope. I have a pair myself. I love my pair. I respect my pair. And if there are women who have no issues showing their pair off on film while rubbing them against a pole, then so be it. Go with God, fair titties! The stripper characters were such cartoons that I found no offence in them at all. Not to mention the men folk were just a dim as the women folk so there was really no "Men are superior and women are only good for their titties!" vibe to it. Surprisingly enough, I found the strippers in Zombie Strippers MUCH less offensive that any of the "dancers" in the movie Showgirls. At least in Zombie Strippers it was played for laughs. Besides, if you rent a movie called Zombie Strippers you should damn well know what you're getting into. So no, I was so not offended one bit. I love crazy camp.

This movie was all kinds of win and awesome. If you like over the top gore, total camp, and complete unapologetic stupidity, put this on your Netflix now.
I do hope they create a sequel... Zombie Male Strippers. That would rule.