They Come in Threes

#1: Brian and I went to see In the Name of the King. How can I explain this movie? Take a cast filled with well-known actors, hand them a script devoid of plot or dialog, and have a talentless director shepherd the project. For good measure, spice up the LotR wanna-be world with a some Matrix wire-work, a squad of ninja bodyguards, and… oh, Tremors. To add insult to injury, charge $8 for the pleasure of being tortured for 2.5 hours.

The only saving grace was the trailer for the upcoming Rambo movie, and the fact that the audience enjoyed mocking the film almost as much as I did.

#2: After the king was dead and buried, we headed home. Alas, it was not to be. I-5 was backed up for miles because there was an accident. We camped out on the highway for over an hour before we got a chance to see what the big deal was. A FedEx truck had crashed through the Jersey barriers, into oncoming traffic, and ended up spread-eagle across the median. It was a horrifying wreckage, and I’m sad to say that the only thought in my head was “My passport better not be on that truck!”

#3: While waiting for traffic to move, Brain and I entertained ourselves by making fun of the movie. At periodic intervals, some idiot would try to blow by the rest of us on the shoulder, so I’d pop out and block them. It wasn’t because I was mad… I was bored, and feeling a little vindictive.

But that’s not Number 3. Oh no… the crowning event of this evening was the guy in the pick-up truck next to us. Not only did he roll into the brand new Civic in front of him, but when the driver got done yelling at him and went to fetch a cop, he got out of his truck and ran away. What an Einstein.

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