Blog will be blugged quickly and all over the place, as this computer seems near collapse, and I have no time for rewriting. So, to continue the week's Wild Kingdom motif:
While watching Hulk tonight, I noticed that a minor invasion force of ants have come to visit my room. Fat ants, with big bulbous body sections like ripe grapes, translucent underbellies, overgrown and overhanging antenae.
Fat inects: they gimme the jibblies. June bugs, engorged fruit flies, anything so fat and slow that you can easily slap it against a wall.
The bedroom ants also appear to be drunk. They skitter aimlessly, then slow down, and their rears legs would slip--no doubt from the weight of their enormous ass sections--and then they go crack on the floor, dazed.
(segue)
Hulk: I liked, though I had foolishly done some research about the movie at illiterate fanboy site AintItCoolNews. The illiterati there had raved about this "dogfight" scene which was supposedly the bee's knees.
Sounded good: the Hulk is supposed to be able to jump a mile or two in the air, so while he's up there, the military could be shooting missiles at him, raking him with machine gun fire, and he could be jumping from copter to copter. Or something. I couldn't quite picture how it'd be pulled off, so I was interested to see where Crouching Tiger Boy took the whole thing.
Here's all that happend: the Hulk walks out in the desert, beats the crap our of a few tanks, slaps a few helicopters aside. And that's it. Scene.
What the crap? I know dorks, and dorks would not have been raving about this. Insert lightbulb: when the monosyllabic snackracks said "dogfight," they meant that lame-o scene where the Hulk fights dogs. Dang unreadbale dorks getting my hopes up...
Still though, Nolte was crazy-as-craphouse-rat fun.
(segue)
After the movie, the pooches in the neighborhood started to howl. All of them: an average of two guard dogs for every house in a thirty acre neighborhood spread. Jibblies squared. Have I mentioned that I have no idea what's going on with the animals around here?
OK, then. Have I mentioned that reseeding (receding?) the teams that make it to the Final Four is damned heresy? Cripes.
