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When you enter a video store, it’s usually to buy the latest, greatest hit, or the newest pornographic wonder. There is the kids section, the adults section, the family section. Then there are the comedy, action, horror, thriller and romance sub-sections. But they are all the same, shelves of back catalogue videos and DVDs that no one watches anymore. Unless you’re like me, of course. Guys like me are the classics. They listen to jazz on Radio Three; they watch music videos on VH1 classic and surf the web via an old, one GHz steam powered PC. On America Online. Also, these guys like dusty old movies that nobody has ever seen, or necessarily wants to see.
So here I was, in the video store, looking for a cheapish video to add to my increasingly growing tasteless selection. I enjoy the movies Humphrey Bogart wished he never made, the ones your grandma doesn’t remember and the ones people choose with the time tested “eeny-meeny-miney-mo” method. This is my domain, the place where I belong, believe it or not. It’s this back-catalogue, never-before-seen-for-popularity-reasons video-store where my name has been stamped in blood.
Today was quite different, however. Regardless of all the classic, crappy pictures available, I couldn’t figure out which one to buy. Yes, buy. Renting is not the way I do things. I don’t know why, but it isn’t. Not knowing what you really want is irritating, not as irritating as the time I lost my entire English paper due to a lack of computer expertise and the “overwrite” key fiasco, but still pretty damn close. Through my steamy glasses all I could see was utter nonsensical films, based on ridiculous ideas and far-fetched theories on all sorts of tired genres. Nearly all of which had an age-restriction due to unnecessary bodily exposure. They seemed to wear their 18 sticker as a badge, proudly proving to all that they defied normal, acceptable culture by being overtly vulgar and obscene.
This has been a collection of paragraphs, detailing a non-existent man’s pleasures and displeasures in the video-store. There is no point to this, except that I enjoy writing and I like to share my idiotic opinions with the world.
By Nash
So here I was, in the video store, looking for a cheapish video to add to my increasingly growing tasteless selection. I enjoy the movies Humphrey Bogart wished he never made, the ones your grandma doesn’t remember and the ones people choose with the time tested “eeny-meeny-miney-mo” method. This is my domain, the place where I belong, believe it or not. It’s this back-catalogue, never-before-seen-for-popularity-reasons video-store where my name has been stamped in blood.
Today was quite different, however. Regardless of all the classic, crappy pictures available, I couldn’t figure out which one to buy. Yes, buy. Renting is not the way I do things. I don’t know why, but it isn’t. Not knowing what you really want is irritating, not as irritating as the time I lost my entire English paper due to a lack of computer expertise and the “overwrite” key fiasco, but still pretty damn close. Through my steamy glasses all I could see was utter nonsensical films, based on ridiculous ideas and far-fetched theories on all sorts of tired genres. Nearly all of which had an age-restriction due to unnecessary bodily exposure. They seemed to wear their 18 sticker as a badge, proudly proving to all that they defied normal, acceptable culture by being overtly vulgar and obscene.
This has been a collection of paragraphs, detailing a non-existent man’s pleasures and displeasures in the video-store. There is no point to this, except that I enjoy writing and I like to share my idiotic opinions with the world.
By Nash
I only watch during "Classic Rock" though. Not "Classic Hits".
Get the Godfather 3.
Then forever hold your peace against bad films.
Then forever hold your peace against bad films.
Blank wrote:
> Hey, I do that, you b#stard!
Well, so-rry!
> Hey, I do that, you b#stard!
Well, so-rry!
NashX wrote:
> On America Online.
And that!
> On America Online.
And that!
NashX wrote:
> they watch music videos on VH1 classic
Hey, I do that, you b#stard!
> they watch music videos on VH1 classic
Hey, I do that, you b#stard!
When you enter a video store, it’s usually to buy the latest, greatest hit, or the newest pornographic wonder. There is the kids section, the adults section, the family section. Then there are the comedy, action, horror, thriller and romance sub-sections. But they are all the same, shelves of back catalogue videos and DVDs that no one watches anymore. Unless you’re like me, of course. Guys like me are the classics. They listen to jazz on Radio Three; they watch music videos on VH1 classic and surf the web via an old, one GHz steam powered PC. On America Online. Also, these guys like dusty old movies that nobody has ever seen, or necessarily wants to see.
So here I was, in the video store, looking for a cheapish video to add to my increasingly growing tasteless selection. I enjoy the movies Humphrey Bogart wished he never made, the ones your grandma doesn’t remember and the ones people choose with the time tested “eeny-meeny-miney-mo” method. This is my domain, the place where I belong, believe it or not. It’s this back-catalogue, never-before-seen-for-popularity-reasons video-store where my name has been stamped in blood.
Today was quite different, however. Regardless of all the classic, crappy pictures available, I couldn’t figure out which one to buy. Yes, buy. Renting is not the way I do things. I don’t know why, but it isn’t. Not knowing what you really want is irritating, not as irritating as the time I lost my entire English paper due to a lack of computer expertise and the “overwrite” key fiasco, but still pretty damn close. Through my steamy glasses all I could see was utter nonsensical films, based on ridiculous ideas and far-fetched theories on all sorts of tired genres. Nearly all of which had an age-restriction due to unnecessary bodily exposure. They seemed to wear their 18 sticker as a badge, proudly proving to all that they defied normal, acceptable culture by being overtly vulgar and obscene.
This has been a collection of paragraphs, detailing a non-existent man’s pleasures and displeasures in the video-store. There is no point to this, except that I enjoy writing and I like to share my idiotic opinions with the world.
By Nash
So here I was, in the video store, looking for a cheapish video to add to my increasingly growing tasteless selection. I enjoy the movies Humphrey Bogart wished he never made, the ones your grandma doesn’t remember and the ones people choose with the time tested “eeny-meeny-miney-mo” method. This is my domain, the place where I belong, believe it or not. It’s this back-catalogue, never-before-seen-for-popularity-reasons video-store where my name has been stamped in blood.
Today was quite different, however. Regardless of all the classic, crappy pictures available, I couldn’t figure out which one to buy. Yes, buy. Renting is not the way I do things. I don’t know why, but it isn’t. Not knowing what you really want is irritating, not as irritating as the time I lost my entire English paper due to a lack of computer expertise and the “overwrite” key fiasco, but still pretty damn close. Through my steamy glasses all I could see was utter nonsensical films, based on ridiculous ideas and far-fetched theories on all sorts of tired genres. Nearly all of which had an age-restriction due to unnecessary bodily exposure. They seemed to wear their 18 sticker as a badge, proudly proving to all that they defied normal, acceptable culture by being overtly vulgar and obscene.
This has been a collection of paragraphs, detailing a non-existent man’s pleasures and displeasures in the video-store. There is no point to this, except that I enjoy writing and I like to share my idiotic opinions with the world.
By Nash