Brutal

From A. O. Scott's review of The Love Guru:

"To say that the movie is not funny is merely to affirm the obvious. The word “unfunny” surely applies to Mr. Myers’s obnoxious attempts to find mirth in physical and cultural differences but does not quite capture the strenuous unpleasantness of his performance. No, “The Love Guru” is downright antifunny, an experience that makes you wonder if you will ever laugh again."

Yesterday, I finished C. S. Forester's Poo-Poo and the Dragons, a book that allowed me to annoy Watoosa by referring to it as simply "Poo-Poo Dragons." It's a children's book that's been out of print for some time, now. I located a copy through our local library system. When I looked at the Due Date slip, I noticed that it had been regularly checked out since 1969. I suppose these stamped Due Date slips will soon go the way of the Card Catalog, but I like seeing when other library patrons have checked out the books that I read.

Pre-natal Thoughts

Last night, Watoosa and I had our sixth and final birthing class. I haven't really blogged about the pregnancy, so here are a few random thoughts about the class and the upcoming event.

-The class has been very low-key. From what I had seen in movies and TV, I expected graphic videos that would make me squirm, and lots of time spent on the floor, pantomiming labor. There was really none of that. Mostly, we just talked about what would happen during the various stages, and how to breathe.

-I was surprised at how old all the other couples were. I'd guess that many other women, if not a majority, are older than Watoosa. Since we're in our thirties, I expected us to be the old fogies.

-One of the women in the class is a professional model, and she still looks like one (albeit one for a pregnancy magazine). Her name is Jennifer, and she and her husband were the last to arrive on the first night. When she walked in, Watoosa told me that she could detect the self-esteem of all the other women taking a nose-dive. That may be, but Jennifer can't rock the sexy librarian look like Watoosa.

-One of the husbands in the class looks remarkably like Vladimir Putin. Keep your distance, comrade!

-We've gotten the impression that a lot of the other women have been more irritable than Watoosa, who has been pretty chipper through the whole process. We've been lucky on that score.

-We did watch one video that showed several births. At first, I could only see half the screen because someone's head was blocking my line of sight. At first I just put up with it, but then I began to worry that I was missing something important on that obscured side. What if there was a special technique that the doctor was using, or that the husband was doing? I'd never know! I guess I'll find out in August.

-When they showed the baby coming out, I was shocked to see just how pointy the head was. I had heard that vaginally born babies have coneheads, but this kid looked like TV's Bert.

-Watching that video made me so very, very glad that none of us remembers our own birth. Sheesh!

-On Sunday, we toured the birthing center where we'll go for delivery. They've got free WiFi throughout the house. Watch for my liveblogging. ("Hold that contraction, honey--I'm almost done with this post!")

-The baby kicks and pushes. A lot. It's pretty freaky to feel it, and even freakier to see it. Watoosa says it doesn't really hurt as much as feel uncomfortable and weird. But since it has interfered with her sleep, I've decided to ground the kid as soon as he comes out. Spare the rod, spoil the child.

-Last night, as she crawled into bed, Watoosa huffed, "Ugh! It's just a festival of discomfort." She makes me laugh.

-I can't shake the suspicion that I really have no idea what's about to happen to us. Maybe it's because people keep telling us that we have no idea what's about to happen to us.

Alert the Media

From a student paper:

"Through this article, it has come to my attention that yes, killing and stealing no matter in what aspect, is morally unacceptable."

I hope he remembers that when he sees his grade.

I Hope This is a Typo

From a student paper about terrorism:

"Only a primary target could be assed...."

Don't even think about assing a secondary target. It's just wrong, dangit! If the good Lord had wanted us to ass secondary targets, he would have made them primary targets.

Now I'm going to ass his paper. Like there's no tomorrow.

Uh-Oh

Peter Travers on the new Indiana Jones flick:

"By midpoint, the movie starts to play like National Treasure meets The X-Files, with a touch of The Goonies, and I don't mean any of these comparisons as a compliment."

I'll still probably go see it, but I'm increasingly concerned about this franchise suffering from the kind of treatment George Lucas gave to the Star Wars franchise. Mitichlorians, anyone?

For Crying In-N-Out Loud*

We saw Iron Man last night. I have never even thumbed through an Iron Man comic, so I have no idea how faithful the film is to its source, but it's good, fun, escapist fare. I remember hearing last year that Robert Downey, Jr. would be taking the lead role, and I couldn't believe it. I just can't get the image of him in New Wave make-up in the laughable (as opposed to actually funny) 80s teen romp, Weird Science (scroll down here for pic). But he sold me on his performance.

The low point of the film comes at the beginning of the second act. Tony Stark (the Iron Man) has just returned to the U.S. after three months' captivity in Afghanistan. He wants two things: to head over to his press conference, and to get an "American cheeseburger." In one of the lamest ever product placement shots in film, the next scene shows one of his handlers passing him a Burger King bag. Now, the scene is set in Los Angeles, which means that zillionaire Tony Stark has not only passed up a burger made by a real chef, but he's also passed up In-N-Out. And for a crummy BK greaseburger.

Granted, that's still better than McDonald's or (I shudder at the thought) Krystal/White Castle. But that scene still stretched my suspension of disbelief past the breaking point. If I had been Tony Stark, and I had been captive overseas for three months, and I wanted my first cheeseburger, and one of my flunkies gave me a Burger King product, I would have fired that employee on the spot. Then I would have bought the companies that employ his friends and family members, just so I could fire them.

*Alternate title: "I Can Has Cheeseburger?"