We'll return to the GPS War and our subsequent return to Newfoundland following our Montreal adventure, but first I want to break away and discuss my brother, if for no other reason than he's driving me crazy.
|Looks normal, eh?|
Dad invited himself to Halifax for the holidays, so I did the same. Da Nephew is four and a half now (not just four - the half is IMPORTANT) and it's that perfect age for tantalizing children about free gifts and load them up on sugar and then hand them off to their parents.
I arrived on Wednesday but because of my brother's heavy work schedule didn't really get to spend much time with him until Friday night, after Dad and Da Nephew went to bed. Bro was on a computer and I flipped over to some stupid romance movie because that was all that was offered other than really bad Christmas movies which I've seen ten thousand times and will not suffer through anymore.
I don't usually watch romantic movies, and if I do it tends to be the older ones that starred Maureen O'Hara or Audrey Hepburn or even Doris Day if I need some sugar without the calories. But this time it was Queen Latifah (whom I actually do like a lot as an actress) and Common (whom I do not like as an actor).
The movie was called Just Wright because Queen Latifah plays Leslie Wright, a physical therapist, and she's the "wright" one for Scott Basketball Superstar (not his name) played by Common but of course there's gotta be dramarama right? In this case the drama came in the form of Miss Shallow Supermodel played by Paula Patton who is also Leslie's BFF.
I'll spare you the rest of the stupidity of this movie, but I watched it only because of the free commentary put forth by my brother during the film and the glimpse it offered into the male mind when it comes to romance.
It all started when he got bored with the computer, came to sit beside me on the sofa, cracked open a beer asked me who was who and what was going on.
"She's a physical therapist. He's an NBA star who tore his ACL. She has to get him ready for the playoffs. Her BFF is banging the superstar she loves. Why are you even watching this?"
"The same reason any man watches a romantic comedy. These men are not real men, okay? They're idiot versions of men. Hollywood white washed. Most are incredibly stupid. So we watch and think yeah... if he can get HER then I can get laid too."
I stared at him for a few minutes. "What about the romance?"
"Who cares? Can this moron get laid? Granted he's an NBA athlete but most of these movies it's some Joe Loser guy and he gets the girl. It's the ideal benchmark. He gets laid and I'm better than Joe Loser so I can get laid by some hot chick too."
"You have no soul."
"I have a soul but it's not whiny entitled NBA superstar or Joe Loser. Why is there a press conference?"
"I don't know. You're distracting me. He's an athlete. There's always press conferences. They go to the bathroom and there's a press conference about it."
"I love how his Mom is at a press conference. Dude, you gotta let go."
"She lives with him too. President of his fan club."
"Awesome. Other than the money this guy fits the benchmark perfectly."
He chugged a beer and got comfy, propping his feet up on the coffee table.
"You're not seriously going to watch this with me?"
"Where'd she get the drapes?"
I looked back at the screen. Superstar was taking Leslie out to dinner to celebrate his successful rehab thanks to her.
"I think she looks lovely." I watched her come down the stairs in a long, navy, flowing silk gown. "OK yes. It's an ugly dress. I hate the dress."
"It looks like she skinned a Smurf. How come he's only taking her out to dinner? She fixed his leg and saved his career. Fix her shitty car you cheap prick!" He waved his hand at the TV in disdain. "Dude makes millions."
"In fairness, he does pay her a salary."
"Not the point. Oh look he fixed her car. OK much better, asshole. Why do they name all cars Eleanor in movies? It's a stupid name. Give it up Hollywood. Look, they're banging. He's about to score."
I looked at the TV. "Technically they're just kissing."
The scene cut to her ugly dress on the floor. "Nope. Banging. They banged. I'm going for a smoke."
"So you're going to go away, now, right?"
Hot supermodel came back now that Superstar was fixed. Bro came in just as Leslie collected her pride in a suitcase and gave Superstar what for as she left in her upgraded car.
"He's taking the hot one back?"
"Would you? You've got this great girl you're falling in love with, but she doesn't look like a supermodel. Now your supermodel ex-fiancé is back. Tell me," I asked in all seriousness. "Would you take the supermodel back?"
"Well he only had one night with the therapist and he doesn't know if he's in love. It was probably a good banging. But yeah, I'd take the supermodel back."
"Dump her on her scrawny ass."
"You'd lose the other one."
"Nah. Apparently if I'm this schmuck I've got women throwing themselves at me."
I did some serious eye rolling. Meanwhile Superstar was going through the Holland Tunnel.
"Every time I see a tunnel in a movie I think there's going to be zombies in there," he said out of nowhere. "It's why I don't drive through the tunnel in Montreal."
"In case of zombie attack?" I gawped at him. "What is WRONG with you?"
"I don't know." He shook his head. "I don't know."
Cut to commercial about some giant baby which was supposed to substitute for a car in some insurance advert metaphor schtick.
"Da Nephew loves this commercial. Always asks why his baby is so big. You know this movie isn't really three hours long. It's an hour long with two hours worth of commercials."
"What do you tell him about the baby?"
"That the dude has concerns. Delusions actually. I mean... he's got a 12 foot baby."
Back to the film and Superstar was wining and dining the Supermodel, who had just obsessed and ordered a fifty dollar glass of wine. This set of Bro's economic side.
"A fifty dollar glass of wine? You'd damned well better be putting out!"
"He makes millions," I told my brother. "He doesn't care."
"I would! How many of those before she's drunk or I'm broke?"
"But you're not a millionaire."
"I DON'T CARE! A glass of wine should only cost three dollars."
I felt my jaw drop. "Three dollars? THREE DOLLARS for a glass of wine?"
"How much do you pay per bottle? Fifteen dollars, right? You get five glasses outta that sucker. That's three dollars a glass. Puh-lenty."
"Not in a restaurant you don't. Double that at least and even so it's a pretty cheap wine."
"I'd cook and stay home. She can get her three dollar glass here. I barbecue great ribs."
He really does but it's not the point.
He continued on. "A meal total should be fifteen or eighteen dollars. For fifty bucks I'm bringing my own to that restaurant and telling them to open it. Here. Just open this bottle of Wild Turkey."
I was dying laughing by this point. He was seriously horrified and appalled by a fifty dollar glass of wine and I couldn't help myself.
Superstar was back on the court and Bro watched the game play. "I didn't know the NBA was filled with five foot nine guys."
Common is actually six feet tall, which granted is on the shorter end for the NBA. We watched him pursue his true love Leslie and the movie concluded with a nice swell of some forgettable music.
"Well, you got through it to the happy ending at least."
"That's not a happy ending," my brother said. "Pornos, bawdy houses, cheap masseuses...they'll give you happy ending. This was just corny."
"What do you want to watch next?"
"Nothing. I'm just going to sit here and tear my eyes out."