Movie Review Time

As I sit playing (and losing at) poker, I happen to hear most of an abomination of a movie I like to call “The Notebook,” a movie designed to make everything with a vagina sigh and go “awww” and tear up like I did when I slipped one time and caught my nutsack on the corner of a coffee table.  You see, folks, playing poker while listening to a chick flick happens to be the worst possible thing to do.  I began to tear up as well, but only because I checked my watch and knew that there was at least another 45 minutes left in the show…and because I saw my stack of chips dwindle because I lost to a higher straight than mine on the river.  Darn river.  As you can assume, the poker and the movie happened to be in the same room.  What makes things worse, was that not twelve feet away, in another room, was a perfectly good television at which said movie could have been watched in chairs that were more comfortable and away from the testosterone driven poker game.  As females tend to do, they complained when we laughed, they complained when chips fell too loud, they complained when we made fun of the movie for being a piece of crap, they complained when I tried to feed poker chips to the dog.  But yet, with their infinite female wisdom (at least, that’s what they always tell me), they couldn’t figure out that it would be much easier to take the DVD out of the player, walk fifteen feet (plus burn vital calories!) and watch the movie in a room with leather chairs and couches.  The dinner before all of this was great though.  Tasty yumminess for all.  And with those two sentences, I have saved my skin.  Probably not, but that’s what I like to believe.  Oh yeah, the review: the movie sucked.  What?  Me in a bad mood?  Nah…