A friend of mine and I decided to go see Brokeback Mountain last night. Yes, we saw the "Gay Cowboy Movie." And - my verdict? Kinda Oscar Fluff. Don't get me wrong, ol' Heath and Jake were very convincing as reluctant homosexuals, but it was touted as a love story - and I didn't see it in that light until the end. Oh well. I'm glad I saw it, and for the record, AND for all you men out there - you get to see Michelle Williams' and Anne Hathaway's boobies. Knew that'd perk up the eyes and ears of the menfolk.
I also have to wonder if the nipple-slips were there for the movie's sake or for the men's sake that will get dragged to the theater to see the "gay cowboy movie."
Upon leaving my office yesterday, the self-proclaimed idiot-savant runner (not orally, he proves just by being) spouted, "Yer not seein' that movie are ya? Don't go to that movie!" I then laughed at him and said, "It's an award-winning film, and you have no room to talk after saying how much you liked The Devil's Rejects." He didn't say much after that. I loathe that movie. And I would rather see funky butt-lovin' sex rather than sit through anything that has, or may have, a chainsaw wielding maniac in it. Because, let's face it, the weapon of choice nowadays, is the good ol' family station wagon.
Well, I better get back to the rat race. I think that I may have been tripped and am now doing my job, the office manager's job (karma bit her in the ass in the form of a dirt-filled dumptruck on one of her two hour shopping lunches) and, for a bit, one of the secretaries job (cat food can bit the hand that was feeding). Oh, and if you know a secretary - give her a hug - their job's suckiness is only rivaled by those who clean septic tanks for a living...