My lazy days spent on my parents sofa ended yesterday when I moved around a little bit. Not much, of course, but definitely a little bit. There is a gym near my parents house that has some of the most state-of-the-art running machines and weight training equipment as well as a first rate yoga session but that is completely nothing to do with this blog because I went to the cinema.
There comes a time when a man can no longer lie on the sofa watching TV and he must give himself a good shake by sitting in a cinema. Just in case you are jealous of my stress-free lifestyle of late let me reassure you that once again leaving the house has just convinced me more than everyone on Earth is a brainless bag of fat except me. I'm the best. I queued up to buy tickets for Avatar (I know, I know) and once the tickets were bought I had to queue up again to BUY the 3-D glasses you needed to watch the film. I had to BUY them. "That way, you can keep them", explained the cunt. I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING KEEP THEM. I want to drop them in a pile of stood on popcorn and Fanta like in a real cinema. Not only where they selling 3-D glasses for you to keep but they also sold SEPERATELY a "luxury" pouch to keep your 3-D glasses that you don't want in. What is luxurious about an item that you despise? Then while standing in the second queue waiting to buy something that I now hated, we were told by the world's smallest prick that we had to queue in a different way, a way that would block other people getting into the cinema. I'm joking, of course. Nothing could block the 10 year old shaved gorillas who go to this cinema from getting in. You're in the way? Well, FUCK YOU, let me push you to the side with my sticky hands and massive forhead. Cunts.
All this and I was going to see a James Cameron film. I was now stressed out.
Unbelievably the film was quite good. Not brilliant. But quite good. There are one or two special effects in Avatar but mainly it's a film entirely shot on location and, for once, a blue actor plays one of the leads. That said, I was very disappointed in Sigourney Weaver blueing up for her role. I'm sure there are a lot of great blue actresses out there who could have played the part just as well as a white actress could. I can imagine that Smurfette is furious. I don't blame her. It's exactly how I felt when I saw Lenny Henry in True Identity. Shameful. Anyways, the film was a very unsubtle satire on America being a twat. I think that's a fair review. Even though the dialogue was mainly a bit awful there were two lines that genuinely made me go cold. "Why would they help us?" and "You're not the only ones with a gun" pretty much sum up our crap, crap world. We're screwed, basically, is the meaning of Avatar. I left the cinema depressed.
Why do I ever budge from the sofa?
Later that night I went to the pub with my Dad and Dotes (you remember Dotes?). It was a fun night of talking absolute bollocks about school, work, Newtownards and Pissy Cripple (if you listen to Precious Little you will know about Pissy Cripple). I think the best part of the night was when the "lads" in the next room kept cheering while watching football. As none of us were interested, and weren't even in the same room as the "lads", we imagined that they were in fact watching Come Dine With Me and someone had obviously just made a really lovely dessert. The best part of the night definitely wasn't the part when Dotes showed me a really horrible "funny" column I wrote for some free newspaper when I was about 18. It was called Tales From The Drinking Den and if it was supposed to be in anyway funny then I now just don't get the joke. Basically, I was laughing at people being a little bit drunk and then calling them twats. I have really grown up since then. I will stick these awful columns up as soon as I can. But remember, I said they were shit first, OK?
I am about to get off the sofa again. I'm getting off the sofa to go to karaoke. God help me.