By Stephen Young
By Stephen Young
By Stephen Young
By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit. Damn. It. As you may have guessed, we just tried to listen to the aforementioned tape and, well, nothing is there. Unless you consider plenty of static "something." And if we had any plans of forming an ambient electronic group, we might. But since our assignment was to turn in a Q&A with the Hockaday graduate for Full Frontal, we are, as they say in the business, screwed.
While we try to figure out what to do here, allow us to kill some time with a bit of info about the series. Spider-Man picks up roughly a year after the events that unfolded in last summer's hugely successful live-action adaptation. Besides for Loeb, Neil Patrick Harris stars as Peter Parker/Spider-Man, and 90210 castoff Ian Ziering plays Harry Osborn. The animation, a combination of computer-generated and traditional imaging that gives the characters a 3-D look, takes some getting used to, but is pretty schweet once you do. And best of all, Brian Michael Bendis, the genius behind the Ultimate Spider-Man comic books, is a writer and co-executive producer for the show. We saw two episodes. They were good.
OK, now, if you'll bear with us, we'll do our best to reconstruct the ill-fated interview with Loeb.
Who do you think is a hotter Mary Jane: Kirsten Dunst or the animated version with your voice?
[Loeb has a point; the CG-version of MJ is the sexiest cartoon character this side of Daphne from Scooby-Doo, or, say, Betty Rubble. She added that what makes her MJ hotter is that she's so independent, doesn't need anyone else, that kind of thing. We were thinking it had more to do with the animators giving MJ, ahem, generous proportions and a wardrobe consisting of nothing but hip-huggers and belly shirts, paired with Loeb's breathy voice. For now, we'll just have to agree to disagree.]
Actually, that's about all we remember from the interview off the top of our head. We do remember kidding Loeb about her filmography (she says there will be no sequel to 1999's Serial Killing 4 Dummies--son of a bitch--and, in fact, has never even seen the movie), and she talked, at length, about her new project with boyfriend Dweezil Zappa. It's a new show for the Food Network that falls somewhere between Martha Stewart and Sharon Osbourne, following two people who "have everything from William-Sonoma but only know how to use a quarter of it, people who eat at The Mansion one day and Denny's the next." Oh, and she told us to say hello to Robert Wilonsky.
Hello, Robert. --Zac Crain
After two big Supreme Court decisions--diversity in universities and the overturning of the Texas sodomy law--the next big area of legal intrigue is supposed to be the idea of legalizing gay marriages. At least we think we remember reading that in Newsweek. In anticipation, the men of Full Frontal would like to present, in no certain order (well, from top to bottom), the Top 10 Dudes We'd Totally Marry.
George Clooney: We'd like to swim in Danny Ocean.
Alex Rodriguez: We're already in scoring position.
Brad Pitt: Hit us as hard as you possibly can.
Troy Aikman: Dude, he'd totally be into it.
Taye Diggs: Give us a big lump of that Brown Sugar.
Sam Shepard: This playwright has The Right Stuff.
Dave Grohl: We wouldn't put up a Foo Fight.
Mark Cuban: If only so we could get half in the divorce.
George Lopez: He makes us laugh.
Johnny Depp: Who's Eating Gilbert Grape? We are.
I Already Miss the Sumbitch
This is a sad time for us here at the Dallas Observer and especially for me. Carl Everett is gone.
Everett, who last week was traded from the Texas Rangers to the Chicago White Sox, had a unique relationship with yours truly. That is, he didn't like me much. Which is to say, he hated me. A lot. While covering spring training this year in Surprise, Arizona, and attempting to interview Everett for a feature I was crafting, Combustible Carl and I got into a heated argument in the Rangers clubhouse. Nose-to-nose, we shouted each other down in a conversation laced with serious expletives. Many spectators, reporters and players alike, watched with mouths agape. Fun. Naturally, media outlets from Boston to Big D picked up on the story, and for a good long week I was praised by some for standing up for myself and derided by others for being an instigator and a jerk. Also fun.
Alas, it's all over now. No chance for one more round with Everett, who, it should be remembered, asked me during our tiff if I wanted to box him. In one of the smarter decisions I've ever made, I declined.