glass_cat

I went to 300 on friday. It's a great movie; the first indication of this was that the earliest tickets we could get at 11:30 were for 7:45 that evening. Imax was beyond sold out which was a pity, says me. What is not a pity, however, is that I found a copy of the Maximum Carnage graphic novel I've been looking for on and off since I was, oh, in grade 7? It was weird to finally see the holy grail of my childhood and having it basically drop in my lap... I really kinda expected to have to run a gauntlet or some such. Sometimes I forget that, on occasion, stores will help you get the products you desire in order to make money. Working sales in Future Shop kinda made me jaded on the process, I guess.

Back to the movie. I must say that I've never seen so many fit, topless men. I was more tempted to go out and wage a war against unimaginable odds than to impure thoughts so I guess my heterosexuality is once again reinforced.

On a related note, one of our crew had to leave early due to pressing matters. After discovering the cause of her need to return home, her boyfriend started laughing. He took it as a sign that 300 is a movie "so manly you may spontaniously ovulate." Miss Carla was nice enough to point out that doesn't follow at all given that menstruation and ovulation are not at all the same thing but I like the phrase so it is officially how I recommend the movie to my friends.

At any rate, I feel bad since at the start of the movie I told her she should probably move the soda I bought for my friend (her boyfriend) so it actually was beside him and, unaware of the holding power of the cupholders in the theatre, caused her to dump an entire large drink in her lap. Apparantly sitting in a freezing pool of coke isn't her preferred movie-watching position.

On an unrelated note, I found a new pet peeve. In the process of cooking supper I asked a question and was told "you wouldn't understand; you're a guy" by a third party. We weren't talking previously; she just felt that it was important to interject that little bit in there. Cut me down because I'm not a good cook, sure. I deserve that. Using my gender to do so? Not a fan.

I imagine that, given my tendency to say things that end up being hurtful despite my intentions (or, on my worse days, as a result of them) there are more than a few clever comments I deserve at this point. As such, I will close by saying I didn't expect cooking to be the vehicle for being splashed with metaphoric cold water poetic though it might be.

I'm still not level 50. Working on that.