All Dried Up

Finally got around to watching a movie after a long time. A movie. In a theater. I find it difficult to watch movies at home or at work, with my attention drifting to something else entirely, like blogging about, say, Turkish pottery. Desire for cartoons also dwindled,as I have come to the realization recently that I don’t like The Incredibles as much as I thought when I saw it years ago, thinking it overrated in the greater scheme of things, and I revile Shrek, the snoozefest Madagascar, and most of its contemporaries, although I still delight at A Bug’s Tale and the first two Toy Story and all the 2D musical toons from the Beauty and the Beast to Tarzan era and of course, the grand daddy of hilarity in all cartoon-hood, The Simpsons Movie.

And so we went to watch Toy Story 3, with very little expectation other than that I would sleep intermittently being post juts and all. It is with much delight and relief that I report that Toy Story 3 is an excellent, genuinely funny, supremely wonderful movie, and that I never checked my phone even once during the entire movie.

“You should watch Toy Story 3,” I later told the very exhausted Smirketh, who has degenerated even further from being a dry prune to the local, lowly chesa– tired, bland, dry, and soul-less. “But you should watch it alone or with friends and not on a date with DDDD, that way you could concentrate on the movie, genuinely laugh, not politely suppress a chuckle when you think he doesn’t get the joke, and most of all, not get distracted by attempts to hold hands or feel each other up in the dark.”

“The fuck,” Smirketh managed to utter as she smokethed five cigarettes at the same time. I sometimes wonder why my friends tolerate me and let me say these things to them.

Not all the time, though, as Tessiloopagooparoopiepoop once threw me out of the callroom in a fit of major annoyance at my attempts of being in a Judd Apatow movie.

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