Last night, after weeks (maybe even months, who knows), Kevin finally forced convinced me to watch “We Were Soldiers.” If you have ever had doubts about the utter depravity of mankind, this movie will forever and ever embed itself in your mind whispering, “Dude…people suck.” There might be other friendly and helpful messages, like “Man, do NOT mess with that napalm stuff,” or “Don’t go wandering off so that your platoon can be cut off, because that is bad.” (You will note that the last 2 messages are particularly useful to me…tutoring is heavy on the napalm.)
Another side effect of this particular film is the knowledge that General Patton (at least as portrayed by George C. Scott a.k.a. Scrooge; I think the man only played one character in his entire acting career) was completely out of his flippin’ mind.
I’m not a complete wimp about manly things. Kevin and I have been watching an abnormal amount of monster truck rally-ing goodness. Definitely an unusual occasion for us; neither of us are really into the “Hey Cletis! Hold mah beer; watch this!” arena of so-called “sports,” but there is something really addictive about watching a vehicle decorated like a big ol’ hounddog launch itself over cars that have gone to the junkyard in the sky, land cockeyed, and have a gigantic wheel break right off the axle.
And for all the ladies out there, Kevin starts work on Tuesday. He will be wearing a lovely outfit classified Service Charlie, in a skin-flattering neutral palette. And I will (hopefully) post pictures. After all, a big reason I married him was his awesome assortment of incredibly sexy uniforms.