I always get on Travis’ case about never letting me choose the girly movie that I want to see. He absolutely refuses to go near a movie that even remotely looks like a chick flick (although I am going to make him watch Pride and Prejudice with me once we get it from Netflix).
So I enjoy the freedom to watch whatever movie I want when Travis is gone. But I’ve noticed that my choice of movies isn’t so great. Maybe I’ve just had a run of bad luck (or most likely it is just that Netflix doesn’t have many good movies to watch instantly on the computer) but the past 2 movies I’ve seen have been horrible.
Granted, the first bad movie I watched was Perfect from the 80s starring none other than Jamie Lee Curtis and John Travolta. It’s about a Rolling Stones reporter (Travolta) who falls in love with an aerobics instructor (Curtis) while writing an expose on the health club industry–or shall I say “the singles bar of the 80s.” I just about threw up during the aerobics class scenes. There is more pelvic thrusting in that movie than I have seen in my entire life. Yuck.
I just finished the second bad movie–Suburban Girl with Alec Baldwin and Sarah Michelle Gellar. I thought it looked like a cute movie, other viewers rated it well. But the story has no real plot. The whole relationship between Baldwin and Gellar is immoral and juvenile. She’s a young associate editor for a publisher and he’s an editor-in-chief for a huge publishing house. She wants to learn about life; he wants to teach about life. He is a closet alcoholic who incidentally slept with her boss. She’s a weak little girl who wants nothing less than to prove to her dad and the world that she can take care of herself. Blah blah blah blah. The whole movie is boring. Like my Venezuelan profesor de cine used to say, “Fue un flop.”
So maybe Travis’ taste in movies–and the fact that I rarely get my way when it comes to the girly movies–is a good thing. I would be wasting a lot of time otherwise watching crap on the ‘puter. Time that I could be spending writing crap on the computer.
Speaking of writing, I can find no motivation to write more of my memoir. I worked on it this past Saturday but that time was spent retyping what I had already written (and lost, thanks to my hard drive crashing) and rereading what I had written in my journals back in 2004. I know that it’s probably just a case of writer’s block but when I only have a limited amount of time in the first place (because of that darn full-time job), sitting down to force myself to put words on a page (that I don’t intend to immediately post on the web for public viewing) just seems like too much to ask.