Pirates of the Hasbeen

Generally, the first and most brutal strike a movie can receive is the adoration of my best friend, L. It is our strange dichotomy of taste in both men and movies that makes our titanium bond all the stranger. While I won't necessarily count a movie out just because it stars her favorite leading man (the illustrious Officer Tom Hansen), I will definitely at least attempt to sneak in to see it for free or catch a matinee instead of shelling out $10.50. I learned tonight that seeing said questionable film late at night is also a viable option, as about thirteen minutes in to The Pirates of The Caribbean; Moe Larry and Curly Submerged 2000 Leagues Under The Sea, I made the stark realization that I had committed the next two-something hours of my precious life to an "L movie". Wide-eyed, head in hands, I found myself pleading for the gods of sand and lambs to take me away. Thankfully, I was released from the Kung-Fu absurdity of this film for approximately one half hour due to successful escape-napping. Upon awakening, I was disappointed to find that the nightmare continued.

I predict that when Johnny Depp and Keanu Reeves star together in the next Jerry Bruckeimer flick, the vortex of suck will be so strong that it will endanger each and every one of us.

Alas, ye matey, with a little less than three weeks of free time still on my hands, mom and I have decided to take a trip out west. If I'm not around much this coming week it's because mombee and I will be sipping lattes and watching orcas off of Victoria Island in the balmy 75degree breezes of Vancouver. Hasta la vista, 112% humidity and 2.4 murders/day! Hopefully, the Canadians know how to make better movies.


Ahoy ahoy!