Day 27: "Nothing's going to hurt you now."

Wowee, what to luck to happen upon yet another film that begins with a gang rape! First it was Nail Gun Massacre, and now the 1973 Curtis Harrington film The Killing Kind; boy oh boy, I've practically got a theme week here. While Nail Gun Massacre veered off into sub-sub-sub-par slasher territory, however, The Killing Kind veers off into a Psycho-on-steroids kind of squidginess that's bound to leave you in need of a shower when all is said and done.

Terry (John Savage) was forced by his friends to partake in the gang rape of young Tina (Sue Bernard) under the boardwalk on that fateful day. It's questionable whether he could actually "perform", but regardless he ended up doing a 2-year term in the clink. Once he's out, he heads to the boarding house run by his mother Thelma (Ann Sothern) where he's treated to gallons of chocolate milk and sexually-tinged oppression.

Thelma's constant deriding of anyone else on the planet with a vagina (they're not good enough for Terry, they're all whores, blah blah blah) coupled with "affection" that's a bit too...affectionate for a mother and son have clearly rendered Terry with a muddled idea of sexuality.



He's plagued by visions of Tina under the boardwalk, and anytime he's confronted by a woman- whether a magazine photo staring back at him as he tries to masturbate or a repressed, older neighbor coming on to him, Terry flips out and loses control. Before too long, he takes revenge on those who put him behind bars, including his defense lawyer as well as Tina herself.

Terry's homicidal ways begin to worm their way into his home life once Lori (Cindy Williams) moves into mom's boarding house. Events escalate until there's a dead Shirley Feeney-to-be in the bathtub, and Thelma must finally face up to the fact that her beloved son is a certifiable cuckoo nutso.

The Killing Kind features the most inappropriate familial relationship I've had the "pleasure" of watching since I popped in Night Warning some time back. While the Terry - Thelma dynamic is going to send you running for your toothbrush the moment the credits start rolling, it's thanks to veterans Savage and Sothern that their relationship isn't just a sideshow. Each actor gives a performance hinting at the pain and loneliness that are part and parcel of what results in such antisocial behavior. It's almost impossible to like either one of them, but they're also hard to hate.

All in all, it's an expectedly solid effort from the underappreciated Curtis Harrington. The Killing Kind has the feel of an especially lurid TV movie- and that's certainly not a bad thing.

SushiSamba Las Vegas

While in Vegas, we were treated to one of the most amazing meals of our lives at SushiSamba at the Palazzo, courtesy of General Manager Hayes Swope. The food was amazing, filling and healthy, and the sake pairings were perfect. Even better, we didn't feel bloated at all afterwards. SushiSamba isn't just another fusion restaurant it represents the unique culture that developed in South America between Japanese, Peruvians, and Brazilians.

No surprise, Hayes, a self-proclaimed party facilitator, says he books 15-20 bachelor and bachelorette parties every Friday and Saturday night. He also plays matchmaker and strategically seats the parties next to each other. That's our kinda guy!

Hayes told us that compared to their bachelor counterparts, women spend more on liquor than food. Bachelorettes at SushiSamba are partial to strawberry martinis, unfortunately nicknamed "panty droppers." We tried them ourselves and are sticking to sake.

At SushiSamba, waiters will work with their tables to present a perfect meal be they bachelor parties or average diners. That means getting to know their guests preferences, dietary restrictions and budgets.

Our meal started with yellowtail seviche taquitos:



We got a little panicky when the king crab legs disappeared shortly after they were served. Hope and Annie both thought the others had eaten them all. Turns out the chef removed them from the shell for us so they were easier to eat and promptly returned them.


The Kobe, top right, was so delicious--it has ruined Hope for other cuts of beef. We skipped all the sauces in favor of a simple coating of salt and pepper on Hayes's suggestion. He taught us to breathe in through our mouth when we eat it to fully experience the decadence of the meat.



Even though we thought we were too full, we had no problem finishing of this plate of sushi.



Learn more from Hayes Swope about our favorites: sashimi peruvian style, king crab legs, sake pairing and Kobe beef.

Best Travel Websites

One day, we hope to be included in Travel & Leisure's roundup of the best travel websites. Until then, we'll share our faves off the 2009 list.

The article gives high marks to Bing.com's fare forecasting. The site would have come in handy when we were booking our airline tickets to Vegas. We waited a week to book our tickets in the hopes the prices would come down. They didn't. T&L says Bing.com is right 87 percent of the time, which is a heck of a lot better than a shot in the dark.

We like idea of iFly.com for "Make the Best of a Layover," but think the site must be run by men. Point 1: We found no mention of spas or nail salons, like SeaTac's Butter London. Point 2: The in-town layover ideas give users no idea how long the trip will take. For example, if you want to checkout NYC's Radio City between flights at JFK, you better have at least 3 hours to get there and back with traffic. A woman would never be such a poor planner.

TripKick is another site that could have helped us on our recent trip to Vegas. The site dishes on what rooms to select for size, noise, view and more at various hotels. In Vegas, Hope was the first to arrive and had to change our room at the Palazzo twice! The first one had plumbing problems, then the second was a 3-mile hike from the elevators. As T&L points out, the list of hotels TripKick covers is small, but growing.

Day 26: "Groooaaannnnnnn."

For Day 27 of SHOCKTOBER, I will be watching something that is widely rumored to be good, very good, or pretty fucking great.

For Day 26, however, I watched Stan Helsing...and after a 3-day stretch consisting of The Toybox, The Nail Gun Massacre, and Stan Helsing, well, the "groan" up there in the post title is coming from me. If I don't get the antidote stat, this bad movie streak may very well be the end of ol' moi.

Stan Helsing is a slacker who works in a video store. On Halloween night, he and three of his friends head off to a party, but they're waylaid in Stormy Night Estates, where Stan has to deliver some tapes to his boss's mom. The town, which used to be a movie studio, has been cursed ever since a fire burned it down ten years prior. Stan and his friends try all night to get past the locked gates and get back to their van.

That's it. Drag that premise out for 90 minutes, douse it liberally with the worst, laziest jokes to ever grace a horror spoof, and you've got yourself a copy of Stan Helsing.

Stan and his friends have to face off against parodies of some of horror's finest villains, which...I don't know, maybe there's some humor to be mined there. If there is, then writer/director Bo Zenga has missed it entirely. Behold, the wit: Pinhead- excuse me, "Needlehead"- has darts and hypodermic needles in his head! Har, har. Freddy Krueger has been transformed into some Flava Flav ripoff (though the only real effort here is the clock around his neck), while Michael Myers is...is...he wears a yarmulke, which I suppose makes him Jewish, which is...funny?


Leatherface wields a leaf blower instead of a chainsaw, while Jason (played by Ken Kirzinger of Freddy vs Jason) wears a hockey jersey in addition to his mask- oh, and his name is...get this you guys, so funny...Mason. Get it? Instead of Jason, he's called Mason! Yeah, hilarious.

I don't see how anyone in their right mind could have read this script and thought it would make a great comedy. I don't see how it's possible that someone read this script and decided to throw money at it. This fucking movie got funding- probably several MILLION dollars. I'd say I don't know why anyone would read the script and then agree to appear in the film, but things are tough all over and it's best to take the money and run. Still, it's obvious that the actors know they're appearing in a piece of shit- they're all a bit dead behind the eyes, and the performances are largely lethargic. Steve Howey did better work on Reba, Kenan Thompson did better work in All That, and hsofga;oVDSFva;sdfa; bjakaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Sorry. I was just getting a bit worked up at how FUCKING INANE this movie is. It's also heartbreaking to see Leslie Nielsen here for absolutely no reason, given nothing to do except dodder about a bit...in drag. ISN'T THAT FUNNY?

A few bloopers are sprinkled in throughout the end credits, and during one bit, one of the actresses- one of the actresses!- sums up Stan Helsing best: "It's so stupid."

Fuck this movie.

Fall Beauty Trends for Daily Makeover's Beauty Bloggerati

Hear what the Jet Set Girls and our fellow Daily Makeover Beauty Bloggerati picked out as their favorite fall beauty trends:

Oxygen Bar Las Vegas

When we passed by the Breathe Oxygen Bar in the Venetian after our poker lesson and our epic sushi and sake tasting lunch on the way back to our room, we must have had "sucker" written on our foreheads. The signs promised we would be energized, our hangovers would vanish and jet lag would be a thing of the past. (Basically, the equivalent of drinking Eric or Bill's blood on our favorite vampire show.) And even though the patrons who were there before us said the oxygen treatment did nothing to them, we were desperate enough to give it a shot.

For $22, we were connected to the oxygen machine for 15ish minutes. The oxygen is scented with eucalyptus and lavender. The cute female therapists entertained and kept us occupied with extras like eucalyptus oil in the palms or our hands, battery powered back massagers and more.

About halfway in, Annie's nose started to get stuffy. The therapists claimed it was because the oxygen was working. She had to remove her nose hose early because she started to feel claustrophobic. Hope, on the other hand, enjoyed the entire treatment.

Believe it or not, we did feel a bit rejuvenated after the treatment. Whether that was psychosomatic or a true benefit of the oxygen, we don't know. But at least the American Lung Association says oxygen bars like Breathe aren't likely to do any harm.

Day 25: "Remember when you could sit outside and not worry about the mosquitos and the killers?"

Going into a flick called The Nail Gun Massacre (1985), well, I suppose I should know what to expect: some deadly nail gun shenanigans, a fine patina of sleaze, and a distinct absence of quality. Sure enough, my expectations were met! The only shock I suffered was that in the end, the movie wasn't nearly as lurid as I was expecting.

The movie begins with a gang rape. It's not explicit, nor is it terribly long...but as it literally opens the film, it's a propos of nothing. A woman is surrounded by a bunch of workers at a construction site while a peppy '80s synth tune plays, and it's all so sudden that by the time you've processed that yes, Nail Gun Massacre opens with a rape, it's over. It's not traumatizing for the viewer- it's probably the only instance of cinematic rape where I've claimed that- and one can only assume that it's going to provide the impetus for the titular nail-gunning to come.

And provide the impetus it does, in the very next scene! A hairy slob is yelling at his wife (who's outside hanging laundry on a line) when he's visited by someone dressed in camouflage, wearing a duct taped motorcycle helmet, and wielding a massive nail gun. Judging by the figure's diminutive size and vaguely hourglass figure, it seems this is the rape victim out for a bit of pneumatic-powered revenge.

But is it revenge? Is the hairy slob one of the construction workers who raped that woman? We don't know. We never really know any of the people killed in Nail Gun Massacre- their names, how they may or may not relate to anything that already transpired in the film...it all seems completely random. Oh well, might as well just roll with it.

After the hairy slob is killed and his wife runs off into the woods with her baby, we're treated to the opening credits sequence, which surely ranks among the worst credits sequences of all time. Plain text slowly gives the names of cast and crew while the theme song...isn't a theme song at all. There's no music, only someone's voice filtered through a vocoder, going "muaa...MUAA...MUAA...MUAA" ad nauseum. It turns out that this voice belongs to the killer. Nail Gun Massacre then quickly establishes a pattern:

1. People you don't want to watch engage in sex engage in sex
2. Ample bare bottoms and bare boobs are on display
3. Nail Gun Killer arrives
4. BANG BANG BANG goes the nail gun
5. UHHNNN...NO...UHHNNN goes the victim
6. Nail Gun Killer cracks wise via vocoder (eg, "Oh, don't you just hate headaches?")
7. Sheriff arrives, is perplexed by the body, calls the doctor
   
8. Doctor arrives in a Camaro, clad in a tank top, says the victim died "hours ago"
9. They both suspect "Old Mrs. Bailey" of the killings

Add a heaping vat of inept filmmaking, a dose of a horrible script, atrocious acting, and repeat, repeat, repeat.

If anything, Nail Gun Massacre proves that decent slasher movies are much more than the sum of their parts. Though there's nudity, blood, and a masked killer, this is far worse than even the weakest entry in the Friday the 13th series. You've got to have a modicum of skill in at least one essential area (writing, directing, FX, acting) for the movie to work, and Nail Gun Massacre fails on all fronts.

Mind you, this doesn't mean I didn't enjoy the damn thing, because I did. I think the moment it won my heart came during a scene set in a grocery store. An elderly clerk is adding up an order (apparently without the aid of a cash register), and the actress is clearly reading her lines from a script on the counter. She fumbles over a few sentences, and when the scene is finally over...she looks directly at the camera with a look that says "Is that it?" According to imdb, the woman isn't an actress at all, but the director's grandmother, who actually worked at the store- she filled in when the actress originally cast didn't show. I loved her, and it filled me with a sort of "Aww, none of these people are professionals...they're just making a movie, how sweet!" Of course, this doesn't make the affair any better, or really worth your time. It basically endeared the awfulness to me because that's how my brain works.

As I said, it is awful. Another "highlight" occurs during one of the film's copious sex scenes, where a couple is trying to have it off in a 2-seater car. It's not working because there's no room for them to maneuver, and at one point the couple stops moving around completely...while the car still bounces up and down as if they're humping away. The shadow of the person repeatedly pushing down on the car is clearly visible on the hood. The killer soon arrives, prompting the man to ask "What are you, a cop?"- I don't know, how many law enforcement agencies wear camouflage jumpsuits, duct taped motorcycle helmets, and wield nail guns? Maybe things are different elsewhere in the country. At any rate, Ol' Naily makes short work of the couple- the man dies immediately after being shot in the elbow with a nail.


The killer drives a massive, golden/puke-colored hearse and leaves it on the road whilst off wielding the nail gun; the sheriff encounters this hearse many times in many places, but thinks nothing of it. Eventually, he and the doctor stop blaming "Old Mrs. Bailey" (whom we never meet) for the crimes...the sheriff finally begins to think that the rape victim from a few months back might have something to do with this, but the doctor remains unconvinced. After all, he spoke to her after the rape and "She never showed any signs that the rape pushed her mind into a state of killing." The state of killing is so dangerous!

Still, the men go to talk to her...there's a lengthy Camaro vs Golden/Puke Hearse "chase" sequence, and all parties end up at the gravel pit. The killer is soon revealed to be...the rape victim's brother. Yes, despite the fact that the role has been played by a woman throughout the entire film, it's actually a man under the helmet. Uh huh.

Totally. Horribly. Ridiculous. And yet, I could not bring myself to be angry with Nail Gun Massacre. I mean, I'm the one who popped it in the VCR and should have known what to expect. What I didn't expect was that the director's gramma would steal my heart!

Seriously...watch at your own risk.