Inescapable Tug of Disappointment Trilogy
I. The new Christopher Guest movie isn't particularly worth jumping through any hoops to see. Actually, I'm not at all convinced I liked it much at all — it's got some charm but it's pretty weak brew in a lot of ways. And the tenderness that started to show through in A Mighty Wind just isn't there — in fact, in the second half of the movie Catherine O'Hara's character gets dumped on enough for it to start feeling uncomfortable.
II. After the movie it's back home to ponder one of those eternal riddles of bachelorhood: When is a Breakfast Burrito Not a Breakfast Burrito? Disturbingly, I was almost thwarted even in this by the microwave instructions requiring you to wrap said Burrito in paper towels while nuking it, and by there being only the last square of paper towel remaining on the roll. Close call there.
(Paper towels? You need paper towels on hand to cook this? What does it look like I'm running here, a hotel?)
Might need to raise the bar I've set for myself cooking-wise. Or maybe lower it. Yeah, lowering it would be easier.
III. Say, a couple of months ago I would have been disappointed to miss a Thanksgiving weekend Steelers game, but the half of the Ravens sackfest that Nate & I heard in his car on the way back to DC was, needless to say, more than enough.
At the Greyhound station they had the Redskins game on, mercifully, but they cut away at one point to show the play where — if I'm remembering this right — a blitzing Baltimore defender caught Roethlisberger from behind in the pocket, tore his throwing arm off at the shoulder, and returned both the ball and the arm some 50 yards for a touchdown.
Having Ward and Polamalu injured at the same time is the last insult. Boy, that season did not turn out as expected.
note. I'm actually in perfectly fine spirits this week. Inescapable tug of disappointment highlighted for purposes of thematic coherence only.
II. After the movie it's back home to ponder one of those eternal riddles of bachelorhood: When is a Breakfast Burrito Not a Breakfast Burrito? Disturbingly, I was almost thwarted even in this by the microwave instructions requiring you to wrap said Burrito in paper towels while nuking it, and by there being only the last square of paper towel remaining on the roll. Close call there.
(Paper towels? You need paper towels on hand to cook this? What does it look like I'm running here, a hotel?)
Might need to raise the bar I've set for myself cooking-wise. Or maybe lower it. Yeah, lowering it would be easier.
III. Say, a couple of months ago I would have been disappointed to miss a Thanksgiving weekend Steelers game, but the half of the Ravens sackfest that Nate & I heard in his car on the way back to DC was, needless to say, more than enough.
At the Greyhound station they had the Redskins game on, mercifully, but they cut away at one point to show the play where — if I'm remembering this right — a blitzing Baltimore defender caught Roethlisberger from behind in the pocket, tore his throwing arm off at the shoulder, and returned both the ball and the arm some 50 yards for a touchdown.
Having Ward and Polamalu injured at the same time is the last insult. Boy, that season did not turn out as expected.
note. I'm actually in perfectly fine spirits this week. Inescapable tug of disappointment highlighted for purposes of thematic coherence only.
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