Thanks to my friend, Nate-- who I can always rely on to watch soft porn with me-- I saw Swimming Pool. It's a British film that shows you can "get off" on living with loose women.
The main character, a mystery writer, has lost her interest in her detective storylines, and wants to write something new and exciting. Her publisher sets her up at his home in France to give her new inspirational surroundings. The publisher's daughter unexpectedly comes to the house and disturbs the writer's peaceful environment, only to enhance it with excitement, nudity, sex, and mystery.

When you've been a band for 20 some years, how do you continue to make original music without repeating yourself? How do you keep from falling into the trap that so many bands like AC/DC and Aerosmith fall into-- making the same album every two years? Each song becomes interchangeable with the next. Someone from those bands should ask Queensryche.

This review is a little hard for me because it's about something I like. That's right! I actually liked something! Can you believe it? Me neither.

What can I say in this review of a rock band pushing the SoCal sound that I haven't said before? Hmmm,.. I could mention that these guys aren't from California. Rather, they hail from Miami, Florida. Or I could go on and on about how, at times, the lead singer from Glasseater sounds like a punk rock DeBarge. I could talk about how all the songs on their new release from Victory Records start to blend together after awhile. Hmmm,.. what to do, what to do?
Alright. I've got it:

Debbie: Alright, we're doing a review of the Deadstring Brothers' new, self-titled album. And what we're gonna do is, we're gonna talk about the album real quick here, while it's playing.
Claire: Yeah!
D: Oh, my friend Claire is here. She's a lot more sensitive and emo than me, so she'll probably love everything about this album that I hate.
C: Yeah!
D: Are you just gonna say "yeah" for the whole review?
C: Yeah! (laughs)

This morning, I woke up in a blazing Asian love den. As the lurid swirls of opium smoke gave way to light and form, I realized I was surrounded by lovely, naked, dark-haired women. They rolled atop each other drowsily, their pert bodies tanned and moistened by the voluptuous heat of the Laotian sun. The scene was so pleasant, I didn't bother to question my own curious nudity.