As it turned out, I never did see “The Hulk” over the weekend. Went and checked out “The Italian Job” instead. T’was entertaining. Above is a photo of the film’s cast (l to r: Charlize Theron, Ed Norton, Seth Green) and a slightly less homolicious shot of myself to neutralize the one I posted last week. The rocks and dirt in the background is the planet Mars.
divinelv recently wrote an entry about roller coasters, and it got me thinking about one of the few sad moments in my childhood that didn’t involve gunplay.
I was 10 years old, and up to that point in my life, Magic Mountain and Disneyland were the ultimate good time for me, wellsprings of incomparable merriment and joy.
But that summer, not only did they cease to excite me like they used to, but I actually became sick of them. A depressing thought suddenly entered my prepubescent, Schoolhouse Rock-educated mind: I would never have that much fun again.
“Fuck,” I thought, “What else is there in life?”
Thank God kids are idiots, and I was wrong about being doomed to an existence of never-ending boredom. I’d eventually discover new amusement parks called “Women” and “Binge Drinking.” Both have rides that make you dizzy and vomit. Fortunately neither occurred this past weekend.
Friday night was Jill’s birthday at an actress friend’s condo. There was another birthday girl but I’ve yet to think of a nickname for her, maybe Nitrogen or Kazakhstan.
Some Asian guy who works in the entertainment industry did an impromptu screening of a short film he put together. It was basically about how it sucks to be an Asian guy working in the entertainment industry.
Saturday evening involved friends, loud music, and vodka on the rocks. You know, the typical summer Saturday routine.
I suppose you’re expecting a profound ending: one where I wearily look around in a drunken haze and mutter, “Fuck, what else is there in life?” But it’s 12:57 am and my ass is heading to bed.