A friend who read my blog yesterday said he had read that the girl with the flour filled condoms was actually using them for grip strengtheners. Like the ones you can buy for a couple of bucks at Sport Chalet. Now, why on earth would you use condoms for that instead of just buying some.

Said friend also mentioned his own run-in with airport security where he was talking with a fellow passenger about his television development deal and mentioned, “I just hope we get to shoot the pilot.” Someone overheard him and he got detained. I heard a similar story from a friend who knew the locations manager for “24.” The guy was in the airport on his cell phone when someone from the set called about scheduling. Frustrated about a mistake they had made, he responded, “No! No! They’re supposed to blow up the government building on Wednesday, not Tuesday!”

I saw an off-beat independent movie on DVD the other day called “Brothers of the Head.” It’s in mockumentary style, but isn’t a comedy. I’m not sure what kind of weed the writers were smoking when they came up with the premise, but it’s about British conjoined twins who’s father sells them to a record producer who wants to teach them how to play punk style rock and roll and be big stars. It’s an interesting film, and the twins are interesting characters. One is honestly interested in learning to play the guitar and write music and has a very soft side. The other is an angry, bitter rebel who becomes the lead singer. The music’s not too bad, and surprisingly, either was the film. I recommend it if you’re looking for something unconventional to watch.

The song for the day is “19” by Paul Hardcastle. There seems to be some confusion as to when it came out, but 1984 sounds about right. Hardcastle, a British jazz-synth composer, apparently had many other hits in Europe later in his career, but for the life of me, this is the only song I know by him. It’s got a pop synth track and a white guy rapping in a very Max Headroom style about the Vietnam War. I really liked it when I was a kid in the 80s, when Vietnam was sort of “in vogue” so to speak. Something not necessarily remembered fondly, but still with a sense of dreary nostalgia.