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Category Archives: Craiglist

Ain’t Got No Draft Card (Burned It, Burned It, Burned It)

When I was a teenager, I was obsessed with the sixties. No, I don’t get it, either. No idea where it came from. No idea what planted the seed in my head or anything. Just that it was a full-blown obsession. It was all I cared about and all I wanted to read about and all I wanted to talk about. I WAS VERY ANNOYING. What? I still am? Yep, I know. But at least now I know when to shut it (at least in real life – on here I can say whatever because IT’S MY BLOG CHUMLEY.)

Things I was completely obsessed with, sixties related (not an all-inclusive list):

The Beatles
Bob Dylan
The Vietnam War
Arlo Guthrie
Hippies

One night, our local PBS station was showing Hair. I didn’t know this was even a thing. (In my defense, I wasn’t even BORN until the mid-seventies. And I’m from a small town where we don’t get a lot of culture. And my parents didn’t do the sixties. They didn’t protest, they didn’t care. They were kind of like the book-banning woman in Field of Dreams that Annie attacks at the PTA meeting: “I EXPERIENCED the sixties!” “No, I think you had two fifties and moved straight onto the seventies.”)

Our local PBS station would air movies, unedited, very late at night. Like, 3am late. All the cussing and nudity. It was awesome. I got Alice’s Restaurant and The Breakfast Club that way and watched them until the tape wore out. (And, by the way, when I finally got to see Arlo Guthrie live – which I’ve done three times now, because the obsession might be gone, but I still love Arlo – I bawled like a toddler who lost his favorite toy down the drain. It was totally cathartic.)

I watched Hair the next day and I was HOOKED. This was all I watched for about two years straight. I was completely in love with this movie. This was pre-internet, so I wasn’t overly aware that it had been a very famous Broadway musical adapted into the movie, or that the movie was completely different from the Broadway show.

You probably all know a little about the musical. In case you don’t, and just because it’s fun and I know WAY too much about it, here’s some info. It opened off-Broadway in 1967 and on Broadway in 1968. The original production actually starred Martha Plimpton’s gorgeous look-alike mom, Shelley, as Crissy.

The story, in a nutshell: a tribe of hippies, led by George Berger, lives on the streets of New York City. One of the tribe, Claude, gets drafted. He waffles between running away and serving, ends up going, and is killed in service. The music is wonderful and touching and, if done correctly, the show is wonderful and joyous and life-affirming, yet melancholy. (Side note: one of the songs, “What a Piece of Work is Man,” was always a little confusing to me. Very different from the language of the rest of the show. Until I began studying Hamlet in college. I started reading one of his speeches and said, out loud, in the library, “THIS IS FROM HAIR.” Well, no, actually, the SONG was borrowed from Hamlet. “What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god! The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals…”)

The movie is different. They rewrote it for the screen. Berger falls in love with a society girl for some strange reason; Claude isn’t a fellow hippie but a farmboy in town to sign up for the military who falls in with the tribe; and the ending is completely different. And I don’t want to be sacrilegious? But I like the ending of the movie better. In the movie, Claude goes off to training, and Berger and the tribe come up with a scheme to get Claude laid before he’s shipped off to Vietnam. Berger shaves his trademark hair and sneaks into the camp, switches places with Claude, and no one in Claude’s unit says a word because they’re scared shitless of being shipped off and could care less about who’s going with them. Claude has sex with the society chick in a field and then the orders come in: the unit’s shipping out. NOW. Berger can’t say a word: according to his paperwork, he’s Claude now. He knows that even if he says he’s not, no one will believe him. So Berger, the pacifist who spent the whole movie railing against Claude signing up for the war, gets into the plane, looking very scared and very small, singing a reprise of an earlier triumphant song Claude sang, “Manchester, England,” one of the lines of which is “I believe in God, and I believe that God, believes in Claude – that’s me.” Only when Berger sings it, it takes on a whole new ominous meaning. Because he’s Claude now. He looks right at the camera and his voice breaks a little and he sings, realizing, “Claude. That’s me. That’s me.

Berger dies and Claude takes over the tribe in his place and it is HEARTBREAKING. Yes, the ending of the musical is sad, too, of course. But something about that ending of the movie gets me every time.

The movie was actually directed by Milos Forman (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, Amadeus, Man in the Moon, The People Vs. Larry Flynt) and stars: Annie Golden! I remember her from Assassins on Broadway (my favorite musical of all time, should anyone ask). She’s had bit parts here and there and always plays a crazy. She’s very distinctive with a kooky voice and I lurrrve her. Mrs. Garrett (fine, for those of you too young to remember her from Facts of Life, it’s a young Charlotte Rae)! She plays a socialite Berger rubs all over. It is awesomesauce. Nell Carter (middle person)! Gimme a break, her voice is fantastic. Mrs. Griswold! She is the socialite chick that bangs all the hippies.

And…as Berger, my hot boyfriend…before he got old and was in some show on the CW that I never watched and refuse to investigate the name of because I JUST DON’T CARE… TREAT WILLIAMS. Just look at him. You totally want to lick him. It’s ok. You can. You’d really be a fool not to.

ANYWAY. So, I have the cassette of the Broadway musical (which is as close as I can get to the recording of my beloved movie, isn’t young me a total philistine? And, Bee Tee Dubs, I STILL HAVE IT AND LISTEN TO IT TO THIS DAY DUM DUM DUMMMMM) and I get to college and, my senior year, the theater department puts on Hair. WELL! This is exciting. Since I left all of my credits until the last minute, I had to work on every single show they put up, so I was the head of the costume run crew.

Claude was a very handsome man who knew how handsome he was and therefore treated those around him with total and complete disregard and disdain. There’s a nude scene at the end of Act 1 (oh, did I not mention? Yes. The musical Hair is famous for the nude scene. End of Act 1, just before intermission, the tribe disrobes and stands there in all of its filthy naked glory. It is wonderful) and Claude didn’t put any undergarments on when he re-clothed himself during intermission. And we had a very quick change at the end of Act 2, because Claude runs off in full hippie regalia at the end of one song, puts on a FULL MILITARY UNIFORM, and comes back on (head shorn, which always gets gasps if the wig was a good one) to tell the tribe goodbye. I had approximately 45 seconds to go from hippie to inductee and, as the head of the crew, I was in charge of it since it was the most important change.

The first dress rehearsal night, Claude was having NONE OF IT. He said, “I’ll dress MYSELF” because he didn’t want me seeing him naked. “TURN AROUND” he hissed at me. Listen, sure, he was pretty, but he was also a dick (n0 pun intended), and I didn’t want ANYTHING to do with him. I was crushing pretty hardcore on a pale poet at the time, if I recall correctly. So he came on about five minutes later and I got read the riot act and he LET ME TAKE ALL OF THE HEAT. Because he was a COCK.

The next night, I prepared myself. He ran offstage and grabbed for the costume. I stopped him, knelt, and yanked down his pants. His dick in my face, I said, “I’ve seen a LOT better. Can we just get you onstage in time tonight?” He never looked me in the eye again, but he damn sure never fought me for changing rights. And we had him ready with time to SPARE from that point on. We had a SYSTEM DOWN. It was perfectly choreographed. I don’t think I’ve ever had something go so smoothly in my life.

Moral? Scare the shit out of someone and sometimes they will let you get done what you need to do. Them being naked helps.

Our production was good. So good, in fact, I didn’t see another staging of Hair until this year. The touring company came through Schenectady in the spring, and I went. And I don’t think I’ve ever been so jazzed about something in my life. It was FANTASTIC. It was done well, it was heartbreaking, it was cast perfectly, it was costumed perfectly (some of the original costume pieces, actually) and Berger – oh. Um. Yeah. Berger. This was our touring Berger: And listen, his name is STEEL BURKHARDT. I mean, can you GET any hotter than this? He was charismatic and I pretty much would have totally joined a Koolaid cult were he leading it.

All of this is prelude to the following: this weekend, I went to see another production of Hair. I’m not going to be mean. I’m totally not. I also am not, however, going to say where it was. If you know me, you can probably find out pretty quick where it was, but like I said, I’m not going to be mean. They tried REALLY HARD. Here were my issues.

  1. I love the show so much that it would really have to be stellar to live up to either my college production or the touring company or the movie. So that’s on me. Sorry, you guys.
  2. They JUST DID IT in Schenectady. Those people were PROFESSIONAL ACTORS. That’s so fresh in people’s minds! If they had waited even a year or two, it would have been such a better move! Let people forget Steel Burkhardt (you have to imagine that name with angel sounds, please) a little! (Yeah, right. As if I’ll ever forget Steel Burkhardt.)
  3. The costumes and actors WERE CLEAN. OK, this is a major pet peeve of mine, but I dig verisimilitude. And these are HIPPIES. Who live on the STREET. Would their bodies and clothes be Tide fresh? NO THEY WOULD NOT. Also, for no reason I could ascertain, one girl was wearing a chain-mail sleeveless floor-length cape thing. She looked like an escapee from a Renaissance festival. It was off-putting.
  4. Berger was trying SO HARD and I am really not trying to be mean but I don’t know if this was an actor thing or a director thing but listen, Berger is these people’s Charlie Manson, and did Manson’s followers follow him because he was nebbishy and kind of bothersome but eh, whatever, I guess he’s ok? NO. They followed him because his pores OOZED CHARISMA. The closest this poor Berger has ever come to charisma is masturbating to old episodes of Angel. (Shit. That was mean. I promised not to do that. Sorry, Charisma Carpenter.)
  5. OK, here’s my biggest problem. Since it wasn’t living up to expectations, I found a show boyfriend. This is what I do when I am not interested in a show but I have to finish it because I paid for it. I pick one person and I pay attention to their performance and they are my show boyfriend and, depending on my mood, I either just ogle them, or I make up elaborate scenarios of romance in my head with them, or something. Because, BORED. But there are RULES to show-boyfriendiness. For example, it can’t be the hottest guy in the show! Because EVERYONE would want him. And he would be out of my league. It can’t be someone very young, because that’s icky. It can’t be a girl because they don’t have a dick. (Although, let me tell you, it’s swung that way before, in a REALLY awful show. Bad shows have turned me into a lesbian. True fact.) It can’t be someone I know in real life unless I already have a little real-life crush on them because it’s easier to have a show-crush on a stranger. So, Claude was out because he was too pretty and therefore EVERYONE’S show-boyfriend; Berger was out for obvious reasons; Woof was out because seriously, you guys, I don’t think the kid went through puberty yet, when he had to sing “Sodomy” I felt SO BAD thinking of him at home at night looking up the nasty words and shuddering; and then I found my hot boyfriend. Random tribe member. With a beard. Oh, did I not mention my new obsession? Beards? It has only hit since I became old on my birthday earlier in the month. Last week, had a random crush on someone? Full beard. Today, show boyfriend? Full beard. I don’t know. Have never liked beards before. It’s an odd new thing and I don’t know either where it came from or if I’m down with it. Anyway, new bearded show-boyfriend. He was kind of adorable. And kind of looked like this only younger. I was smitten.

I am aware of the irony of me wanting to bone someone who resembles an actor from a show I hate so much it gives me hives.

So I stared at Al-but-not-Al-from-Home-Improvement throughout Act 1 until I realized a couple of things. 1 – I had a ROCKING seat. Second row house left, no one in front of me, no one in my row. Like, so close adorable Claude pointed and smiled at me in one song, and Sheila gave me a flower in another. 2 – NUDE SCENE WAS FAST APPROACHING. And I was right up front for all the action. THIS WAS MY LUCKY DAY. THE GD STARS WERE ALIGNED BABYYYYYY.

They all got in position. Some people chose to stay clothed – not my favorite choice, I feel like if you’re in Hair, you should embrace nudity, but whatever, their body, not mine – and realized Al-but-not-Al-from-Home-Improvement was THE CLOSEST GUY STRIPPING IN FRONT OF ME. It was kind of dark, though. Like, there were no lights on. So I waited for the light booth to get it together while I squinted trying to check out little Al (OR WAS IT? WAS IT LITTLE? ONLY TIME WOULD TELL!) from my seat without looking like a total perv. (Um. Too late. I know.)

The lights never went on. At all. THE NUDE SCENE WAS DONE COMPLETELY IN THE DARK. Luckily, due to my awesome seat, and the fact that the band was directly in front of me and had little lights on so they could read their sheet music, I had enough ambient light to see a little bit – some lovely breasts, and the fact that Al would most likely not be disappointing anyone in the near future (but I would like ACTUAL LIT CONFIRMATION OF THAT, whoever makes such decisions. I mean, would you buy something online without reading the reviews? No, you would not. THIS IS THE SAME THING. What do you MEAN it’s not at all the same thing. OF COURSE IT IS.) Hair = nude scene. Why would you even have them take their clothes off if it’s going to be dark when they do it? There have been productions of this without the nude scene. It’s been done. It’s not unprecedented. That’s like smoking fake cigarettes onstage. Do it right, or don’t do it at all. We know when you’re faking, actors, and it SUCKS.

Overall, listen, it was NOT the worst thing I’ve ever seen. Like I said, they tried really hard. And they seemed to be having a really good time. Claude, Jeannie, a few of the tribe members (coughAl-but-not-Al-from-Home-Improvementcough) and Sheila were quite good. The choreography was good. The singing was solid, overall. The set was nice. It was just poorly timed. And it didn’t seem like it had much at stake. This is a play about someone dying in a war we had no right to be in, that we had no reason to be in, that we were sending children to fight in, as well as homosexuality and teen pregnancy, and it played like children on a playground playing at hippies in Halloween costumes. And that was sad. It was Hair with any import erased. No consequences. No danger. Candy colors without substance.

I know. I’m a little tougher on this than the average theater-goer. I love it without reservation and when it doesn’t live up to my impossibly high standards I put on my cranky-pants. Sorry, cast and crew. Listen! THEY TRIED REALLY HARD.

Also, Al-but-not-Al-from-Home-Improvement! Research (and ahem, SIDEBAR, does no one put their Facebook settings to private anymore? I mean sure, it totally makes it easy for me to stalk you, but then again? IT MAKES IT EASY FOR ME TO STALK YOU. I mean, listen, Al-but-not-Al-from-Home-Improvement, we’re going to have to talk about this once we’re all coupley, because it’s worrisome. I could see EVERYTHING on your page. EVERYTHING) tells me you are WITHIN MY TARGET AGE RANGE, STRAIGHT, AND SINGLE. Ahem. I LIKE BEARDS, Al-but-not-Al-from-Home-Improvement. Also, you can use my new salt and pepper shakers. I WOULD LET YOU DO THAT. AMONG OTHER THINGS. I AM TOTALLY A GIVER. I would do a Craig’s List missed connection for you but listen, only CRAZY PEOPLE do those. THIS IS MUCH SANER. Spoiler alert, though, buddy – lights are staying on for our nude scene. Go big or go home. (I’d say that wasn’t a metaphor? But I’d be lying.)

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I kept hearing that lyric "I got one hand in my pocket" in my mind. I know. I’m sorry.

I know this is going to shock and awe you, but until recently, I had never seen a Lifetime movie in its entirety. I know! Don’t I seem like the kind of person who would eat these things up? And with titles like Mother, May I Sleep With Danger? and She Woke Up Pregnant HOW CAN YOU GO WRONG. (And now that I know about it, I NEED TO WATCH SHE WOKE UP PREGNANT. How have I not seen this? What an awesome teaser. How did THAT happen? Oh, hello, a baby! When I went to sleep that was not there, but now that I have awoken, it is there!) But no, seriously, I have never sat all the way through one. I’ve seen bits and pieces. Once I saw part of one with Meredith Baxter-Birney (although I think she’s not hyphenated anymore because she got divorced and married a woman? Meredith Baxter, then?) and I think she was an alcoholic or something and was crashing around and fell down in the pantry and this seemed like something Mrs. Keaton WOULD NOT DO so I turned it off. Me not watching a full Lifetime movie is mostly due to the fact that I have insane ADD. Like, I can barely sit through an hour-long drama without getting up and running around like Tom and Jerry chasing each other around the apartment at least four times. I get SO BORED. Even if it’s good. This is part of the reason I don’t see a lot of movies in the theater, because running around like a lunatic? Kind of frowned upon in there. What? Oh, yeah, I’m totally off topic, WHY ARE YOU ACTING LIKE YOU ARE SURPRISED.

Anyway, because I thought, hey! Everyone should see at least ONE Lifetime movie all the way through in their lifetime (ha! that was kind of almost a joke! I know, I know, I’m totally the funniest person ever, you don’t have to tell me because I’m aware of my total domination of hilarity!) And also, Lifetime is television FOR WOMEN. Well! I AM a woman. So it’s like it’s MADE for me. That’s like someone giving me a FREE TAMPON. I have a use for that! BECAUSE I AM A LADY!

For my viewing pleasure, I chose a very excellent movie entitled The Craigslist Killer.  This was for a number of reasons, which I will lay out for you in a handy bullet-pointed list because everyone likes both bullets and lists:

  • Craigslist is absolutely enthralling to me. Everything you could ever want is there. Free chairs! Crap for sale! Things to do! A man who wants you to stomp on his son’s train set while eating crab meat! Missed connections! And so many perverts. Like, a meeeelion perverts. Perverts love posting for free, you see.
  • I am obsessed with killers. There. I’ve said it. Listen, I’m not at all proud of this. And I’m not saying I’m one of those people who marries a serial killer on death row, or anything, but I am fascinated by what drives a person to become a serial killer. In another life, I’m pretty sure I was either a profiler, or a victim of a serial killer. Not a serial killer, though, because I just don’t have the energy. You have to think of SO MANY THINGS. What to bring! What to wear! When to show up! Planning, planning, planning! I am not good at minutiae. I would get caught driving away.
  • I was on vacation, and there’s no cable, so anything seemed like a good idea.
  • The Craig’s List Killer story was one I followed pretty avidly, because, as mentioned, obsessed with killers, but it was so bizarre to me that I couldn’t look away. Also, the killer went to school in the town where I live now, so it was everywhere on the news here. We’re pretty proud of our hometown heroes.

So, The Craigslist Killer. First – you remember this story, right? Fine, upstanding med student, engaged, living in Massachusetts, is secretly meeting up with people advertising “erotic services” on Craig’s List, and then, for some reason, decides screwing around with them isn’t enough, so he starts robbing them, and then gets a gun and kills one of them. Then the cops catch him and he goes to jail and his girlfriend was very “stand by her man” for a while, and we were all, “whaaa? HOW COULD SHE NOT KNOW” but then I guess she got wise to, oh, I don’t know, the TONS OF EVIDENCE IN HER APARTMENT, and she broke up with him, and then he killed himself in jail after scrawling her name all over the walls in his own blood, therefore cutting short the state’s plans of trying him for the murder.

Now, The Craigslist Killer movie. Well, it was similar to the true story, I think, for the most part. It had that going for it. The bare bones were there. The facts were there. But there were some missteps.

After watching this, I came to a very important conclusion: there is now no need, no need at all, to ever watch another Lifetime movie again as long as I live.

I took some notes so I could share them with you, because I was watching it somewhere where there was no internet or cable.

Transcribed from my notes:

This is the WORST. (It is important to note this was written five minutes into the movie.)

If you want to school at SUNY Albany, you would probably not pronounce it SUNY AAAHL-banny, with a long “a” at the beginning. Because NO ONE SAYS THAT. And we’d slap you if you did. It’s ALL-bunny. I know. It kind of looks like it should be pronounced as it’s written – like the man’s name Al, and then “bany” pronounced like “banny.” But that’s not the case, and people who went to school here FOR FOUR YEARS would know that. Or they’d have been beaten up a lot while living here.

He said it again. STOP SAYING ALBANY LIKE THAT.

What is going on? OK, he’s having these – um, I don’t know, episodes? Where it looks like he’s having a personal earthquake? But nothing else is shaking, just him? Are we to assume that’s the demon inside him trying to come out, or he’s epileptic? THIS IS VERY CURIOUS.

OK, this is where the small amount of credibility I have just left me, because he just went into what seems to be a combination Big Lots and survivalist store and filled a cart with duct tape, rope, and disposable cell phones (and asked the guy stocking the shelves, VERY secretive-like, “So, um, these are, like, the ones no one can EVER EVER track, right? Like, ever? No matter what cross your heart and hope to die?”) And he went to the counter, and a very unfortunate checkout woman was checking him out – and also checking him OUT, if you  know what I mean? And as she rang up the tenth cell phone – I’m not even exaggerating – she said “You know, you could program MY number into one of these.” Um. Well! How about you also tie yourself up with his rope and tape your mouth shut? Because if someone is buying a cartful of that stuff, without even sticking in some Fruit Rollups and some tampons, or something, like as a beard? RED FLAG RED FLAG HE IS A SERIAL KILLER. Oh, and he didn’t even put her number in one. He just grimaced at her and had another personal earthquake and sped out of there with his bags of killin’ goodies.

A whore! Oh, I can see the whore’s microphone box underneath her negligee. WHO ANSWERS THE DOOR IN A NEGLIGEE. Whores, apparently.

So, I know I’m the most sheltered human being alive, but people really advertised on Craig’s List for erotic massages? And people showed up for them? This is really distressing to me. And also kind of gross. What if you showed up and the masseuse was just icky? Would you go through with it? Or would you just leave and totally hurt her feelings? Or what if you really just wanted a massage and misunderstood the subtext? AWKWARD.

BILLY BALDWIN IS A COP IN THIS. Oh, Billy Baldwin. This makes me feel SO BAD FOR YOU. Do you throw darts at photos of Alec at night when you go home and weep and gnash your teeth and say, “But I was the pretty one! I was supposed to be living the dream, too!”

The fiancee’s mom (also, the fiancee’s nickname is “Pocket” and this is stupid) has Michele Bachmann crazy eyes and was the mean girl who stuck magnets on Phoebe’s back brace in Romy & Michelle’s High School Reunion. Aw! Remember Alan Cumming in that? So adorable! And the dance at the end where they looked like dying swans and I laughed so hard I fell out of my theater seat and onto the disgusting popcorny theater floor?

Comparison photo, after the fact, for those of you who might be interested:

                        


Michele Bachmann (left, obviously) wins the crazy eye contest! And there was much rejoicing.


The Craiglist Killer is doing that thing where he’s psyching himself up in the mirror, because I think he models himself after Patrick Bateman in American Psycho. You, sir, are no Patrick Bateman. Didn’t you hear Bale’s f-bomb heavy rant on the internet? No one could ever live up to that. It was the best/worst thing EVER. Don’t even TRY.

Best line of the entire movie (sorry, that really should be “movie”) goes to Billy Baldwin. “I don’t get it. This day and age? Women inviting people they DON’T EVEN KNOW into HOTEL ROOMS?” Ha! My thoughts EXACTLY, cop played by Billy Baldwin. (Is it obvious to anyone yet that I not only didn’t write down anyone’s names, I actually am so filled with ennui at the thought of this movie that Googling them is too much work?) Also, it should be noted that Billy Baldwin is acting using the Joey Tribbiani “smell the fart” technique. Throughout the entire movie. Billy Baldwin! Does this make you feel bad for the time you were kind of a snotty douche when you came to my college that one time? Because I kind of feel your fall from grace is a little warranted.

There is a profiler on here who is the WORST PROFILER EVER. “I think the killer is middle-aged? And a loner? With no friends? Who can’t get a girlfriend? And is ugly?” Um. OPPOSITE, profiler. Dr. Spencer Reid would have known all about the killer about twenty minutes into this movie. I am disgusted.

Out of nowhere, the cops just said, “His name is Philip Markoff! Here is his Facebook profile! HE HAS SO MANY FRIENDS!” (Sigh. YES, I looked it up. I had to. The joke wasn’t funny without an actual name in it.) What? HOW DID THEY FIND THAT OUT? Did I miss something? A minute ago the only evidence they had was grainy security camera footage; now they’ve got him? I feel like this jumped ahead two weeks and I missed a bloody glove or something. Also, Billy Baldwin looks PISSED at all the friends the killer has. Billy Baldwin doesn’t have NEAR as many Facebook friends as the Craigslist Killer, methinks. Also, the Craigslist Killer doesn’t use any privacy features on his Facebook profile. Well, then you deserve to get caught. Twitter is for PUBLIC use; Facebook is for PRIVATE use. Google Plus is for everything because of the circles. Should have asked me, Craigslist Killer.

Mostly I’m just wondering how he got away with anything at this point.

“Hey, let’s go to Foxwoods and do some gambling wanna go let’s go no need to pack let’s go go go time to be impulsive ha ha ha love you Pocket!” –the Craigslist Killer when he realizes they’re onto him and decides to take his fiancee to Foxwoods Casino. She goes. Why? BECAUSE SHE IS STUPID. No, that’s mean. She’s actually just completely naive and a little bubbleheaded. And a med student, so, you know, totally someone you want operating on you.

“Why are they pulling me over? I’m not even speeding! Aw, shoot!” –fiancee, who doesn’t see that the killer is sweating like a drunk after a three-day bender and trying to hide inside the glove compartment

In the interrogation room, the Craigslist Killer attempts to turn the tables. Billy Baldwin asks him why he would do this. “Why do YOU think I would do this?” he asks in return. Oh, well-played, Craigslist Killer. Well-played. Well, have to let you free now. You’ve got them! Logic is on your side, no question about that.

OMG there are a ton of women’s panties rolled up underneath his mattress. THAT HE SHARES WITH HIS FIANCEE. That is totally unsanitary. I would be so skeeved out by that. I think I might stick around after the murder accusations but OH HELL NO when I found out about the skeevy whore panties. And not because of the cheating, either. BECAUSE OF THE POTENTIAL FOR CRABS.

“It’s not physically possible that he could do this!” –the Craigslist Killer’s mentor, who is also a doctor. Um, actually, PHYSICALLY, it is. And as a doctor, who treats the human body, it’s kind of important you know if something’s PHYSICALLY possible. I don’t think I’ll be going to this hospital anytime soon. The three people who I’ve met who work there are a killer, someone who doesn’t understand the word “physically,” and a woman so naive she doesn’t know there are a million skanky pairs of panties under her mattress.

The Craigslist Killer tried to hang himself with his shoelaces but they were not very sturdy and also, you know, SHOELACES, so that didn’t work. Damn. Fine plan, bro.

Why is the fiancee, who has shown kind of admirable fashion sense up until now, wearing a Member’s Only jacket? Is it to show that her fashion sense, like her life, is falling apart? I might be reading too much into this movie.

Wow, that ending was abrupt. BAM, all of a sudden she decides he’s a killer after all because enough people told her it happened so it must be true. Way to be decisive, Pocket! BAM, she breaks up with him. (He apparently thought the wedding was still happening because he asked if she thought the tailor would come to prison for the final fitting of the tux. Sexy!) BAM, he kills himself after writing her name all over his cell IN HIS OWN BLOOD.

What did we learn from this movie?

  1. Billy Baldwin is a cautionary tale.
  2. Crazy eyes are bad.
  3. If someone nicknames you “Pocket” that’s a sign he’s deeply disturbed.
  4. Buying a metric ton of disposable cell phones is never a sign that he’s “the one” unless if by “the one” you mean “the one who will kill you and wear your skin as a kicky spring cape.”
  5. Don’t watch Lifetime movies, even if they ARE for women and YOU’RE a woman, because DEAR GOD IT’S A TRICK.


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