Sunday dane bramage

For the life of me I can't think of a decent topic to write about today. I'm so distracted and into this organizing/pre-moving/cleaning-out stuff that my brain was put on auto-pilot at 5:30 this morning and I didn't snap out of it until I realized that I'd trapped myself inside the guest room by piling up garage sale shit in front of the door. And I still kept going and going and going until my back said, "hey bitch, SIT DOWN."

I was going to finish up and spend the rest of the day relaxing but here I am, three hours later and I'm finally taking a break. But it all feels good. Well, almost all. Dropping the fucking printer on my toe and getting the sliver of glass in my pinkie didn't feel good. Although, despite my self-injurious nature, I got a ton and half done. My mother would be so proud of me. For at least 5 whole minutes. Heh.

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Why do I come across and watch the same 20 minutes of the same movie playing 5 times in the same weekend? How does that happen? What is the universe trying to tell me? That I'm being punished for being naughty with stupid movies as my only choice for my day off or that I'm being rewarded for some good deed I've undoubtedly done by seeing Brendan Frasier's oily pecs circa 1999 fighting mummies with a bullwhip? Eh, I'll take the latter. Thanks, Universe!

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Since this is rather lame and skimpy on the content today I will give you a movie review.

Last night we watched Nacho Libre starring the comic genius that is Jack Black, whom I adore. I had mediocre hopes for this flick since I've heard both good and bad things about it so I figured it would fall somewhere in the middle. Not a bust-a-gut, not a shit hole. More of an occasional laugh outloud, a few guffaws, and long periods of silence. And for the most part I was right. It had all three but more periods of long silence than I thought it would.

I'm not sure what Jack was going for, besides the obvious hilarity, but this one falls way short. Before the movie starts you get a big flash of the Nickelodian logo so I knew right away they were catering to kids more than anything else. Kids who like wrestling and farts.

And hey! I like farts too! Well, I don't like farts but I do think they're funny. A well-placed ripper is always worth a laugh from me. (Except When they're launched by a certain someone in a silent-but-deadly sneak attack in the confines of my garage where it hits me in the face with full-punch force and doesn't disapate for 10 whole minutes.) But a whole movie can't rest on gastrointestinal eruptions alone.

The bad things about this movie: It wasn't near funny enough. There was some stupid, weirdo crossed-eyed old guy they flashed on in audience scenes about a hundred fucking times and you never knew why or who this stupid guy was. (So annoying.) Jack's wrestling partner guy was painfully fugly and hard to look at. And there were lame-ass sound effects added that never, ever work unless they're in an actual cartoon. Ix-nay on the aim-lay oises-nay. Okay?

The good things about this movie: Well placed poots. Jack does manage to make you laugh outloud more than once and one time I was pretty loud about it. It makes you appreciate his talent. Um, I can't think of 4 good things so you'll have to be satisfied with 3.

All-in-all I say don't even get this on Netflix, Pay-per-view, or at the rental store. Wait until it's on HBO or regular TV. You won't be put off of Jack Black for good because of this 65% stinker, but anything less than 50% funny shouldn't cost you a dime.

Jack redeems himself here. Be careful, there's a-cussin' in this one.