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I Saw The Signs...
Written on 2002-08-05, at 11:42 p.m.

dizboy's disturbing daily diet...

1 1/2 Cinnabons

1 Philly Cheesesteak Wrap

2 Pints Milk

1 Slice Watermelon

1 Big Mac

1 Large Fries

1 Large Coke

2 Bowls Corn Pops


John Live*

Hiding from the aliens. 

Click...click...click...

*Not at all live...


Never really being one for multiple orgasms, you can imagine my complete surprise at finding myself breathless, and deeply in need of a change of undergarments after viewing the extended trailer of Chicago

Not to blatantly toss up my stereotypical homosexuality, but I'm just giddy with anticipation for this film. 

And yes, you can say all you like about Renee Zellweger, and Catherine Zeta-Jones, but I think that they'll do a good job.

If they don't? 

Ah well...it shouldn't be about them anyhow.

It's about the music.

It's about the dancing.

It's about Taye Diggs' mochachocalatta-licious booty.

And while we're on the subject of movies...

Last night, Nate and I went out to see "Signs", a movie that I've been anticipating for a while now. 

And now that I've seen it, let us never speak of it again.

The other night, I was going to go see it, and drag Taylor along with me.

I say drag, because Taylor is not one at all for scary movies, but the idea came to me while speeding down the highway at 60 miles per hour, and Taylor, not being a highly trained stuntman, would have had no choice but to subject himself to the terror that is cinema. 

After much pleading, and several appeals to the United Nations general assembly for intervention on his part, I realized that he'd be utterly miserable should he go to see this movie, so I delivered him safely back home, facial products and all.

Later that night, as if by fate (or was it a Sign?), Nate had to cancel on me, leaving me movie-less on a Saturday night. 

However, on Sunday...

After work, Nate and I met up, and headed out to CityWalk to finally partake in the experience that is "Signs".

Now, I have to explain, that the only reason we had gone to CityWalk is because for some reason, absolutely unknown to me, our usual theater wasn't showing the movie. 

Every other theater in town had showtimes starting every fifteen minutes...but the Cinemark Theaters at Festival Bay just didn't feel the need to subject the public to the movie.

Theater-going in and of itself never seems to be a pleasant experience for me, and when the movie is at a crowded Mega-Plex, it seems to take on the level of fun found only in such pastimes as ditch digging, installing drywall (Because I have the slightest clue what goes into that), and shaving Roseanne's back.

We went to the 8:40 show, it was fairly full.

Which I usually don't mind.

There were people being loud and excitable before the movie.

Which I usually don't mind.

There were at least three strollers.

Which I JUST FUCKING HATE.

I am a student of the school of thought which states that parents who bring children...

Let me clarify...Children being anyone whose mother still picks out their Underoos.

...who bring children to movies at night, movies rated over PG, or movies such as this one...

Should be drawn, quartered, and made to listen to Steven Hawking perform "The Mikado", in Italian.

 Come on...conjure up your best robot voice, then say in a tinny monotone, "Three little maids from school are we..."

Torturous, no?

This is my first indication that this may be an unpleasant movie experience. 

Before the movie starts, I see an advertisement for Terminator 3, starring Arnold Schwarzenegger.

I cannot help but wonder when this man will realize that he's 

1) Not Mr. Universe any longer, and...

2) has worn out his welcome.

Arnold...Austria needs you...to, um...help cover up all traces of Nazi collaboration. 

Kristall-nacht?

Kristall-NOT!

I can't even begin to imagine what "T3" is going to be like...

"He said he'd be back...and he is. Arnold Schwarzenegger returns in Terminator 3, and he's badder than ever. This time he's joined by the newest development in terminating machinery...The LARK-1000...The Ultimate in Personal Mobility Devices."

I won't really go into the movie, because I don't want to give anything away. 

But here's a tip.

Only go to see it if you share your home with someone.

If you do not, be prepared to, in the most undignified way possible, ask anyone to spend the night with you.

The reason for this is that if you're at all like me, and God help you if you are, you will want to sleep with every light on, question any noise you hear, and keep a glass of water handy at all times.

Honestly, I screamed like a woman during the movie.

That's no joke.

Not just like a woman, I was screaming like a B-movie actress while curled up in the fetal position in my chair, and taking sips of my Blue Raspberry ICEE, while the hardcore punk boy in the next seat over attempts to watch the movie through the spaces between his fingers.

The result of all this ended up being Nate and I in my apartment playing Grand Theft Auto III till nearly dawn, while I contemplated just how well my deadbolts would hold up to an extra-terrestrial assault.

Considering the fact that maintenance seems to be able to just walk in at any given hour, usually while I'm showering...Not very well, I'd imagine.

Perhaps what I need is a sign...

"Do Not Disturb"

Be well...

-JOHN-


Your Host and Emcee...dizboy.

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