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Shaun of the Dead
(2004)
Dir: Edgar Wright
Alright, this might put me in the backseat of the gnar-car, but there are a few chicks out there that I would still totally bone, even if they were zombies. Here’s the Billy Binaca shortlist: Kelly Bundy, so hot--even if she was cold; my first grade teacher, Miss Kurtz, so dope; Sherylin Fenn, need I say more; Peg Bundy, better believe it, those milk jugs are real; and the smokin’ limey who plays Liz in Shaun of the Dead. She’s a real free spirit, and Billy B be all about that feisty shit. Even though I like to spend my mornings meditating with the snotty bubbler and Johnny quarter-pipe, in my garage, if Liz said, “stay in bed Billy B, I’m feeling a bit ran-dee,” I would oblige the fuck out of her. And guess what, even if she was just moaning, frothing and thrashing around in bed, and her skin had turned gray, I’d still bring her the B-bone.
See, I’ve got it all figured out. The only danger in scoring zombified betties is them biting you while you’re working the bean. So really all you need is some sort of muzzle.
I made a prototype out of some wrestling headgear I found at the Salvation Army. It fits snug on the head, and I designed this metal rod that goes into the zombie-hottie’s mouth and then clips to an adjustable strap that keeps it nice and tight. I tried to eat an apple with it on, and I couldn’t even break the skin.
You’ve gotta wonder though, is the zombie bug like the werewolf bug? Can you get it from a scratch? Just in case, I’ve got some gardening gloves that go with the helmet. I keep the whole Z-love kit in my old pad bag.
You might not believe it, but it’s been days--and I mean fucking days--since Brono-Binaca’s been able to hit the vert. It has nothing to do with zombies. Well not directly, anyway. When I was digging through all the boxes in my garage, looking for the metal rod I was talking about, I kind of fell off a ladder and jacked my knee. The old hinge was squeaky already due to a tear I suffered a few years back, while trying to perfect my signature Binaca-plant 540’s--surely you’ve heard about ‘em. This time I think I really tweaked it good. I have to limp around the house like a zombie. That’s what I get, right?
Well guess what? No fucking pussy knee-tweak is going to keep Billy Binaca out of commission. No fucking way. This may sound bitch, but I’ve already got my rock-to-fakie’s back on old Johnny QP.
Speaking of QP’s, old BB’s got himself a fresh brick and a clean bubbler. So calling out to all you bitches, live or undead: The B-man’s saving a spot for you on the hide-a-bed, and I just got Animal Chin on DVD. Any takers?
Kelly?
Peg?
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