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By Tommy Goldhammer |
The summer is my favorite time of year. Three months without school, homework, or that Rodney kid that sits next to me in class all the time, because he’s right after me in the alphabet. And he’s so overweight that even light exercises like writing in our journals in Language Arts works him up into a frenzy of neck sweat that gets all over my composition notebook. Awesome, Rodney. Thanks for the memento. |
Now when I lament about the point in my life when my crush on Miss Sweetney intersected with my disappointment in P. Diddy’s dissipating box office viability, you’ll be the only thing I can think about.
Also, when there’s no school, I don’t go into the office, either. No one’s said anything, and we’re somehow still churning out movies, so I figure what the hell. I’ll just spend my days eating boxes of orange popsicles and laying motionless on the front lawn for hours, while inexplicably taking credit for producing motion pictures. It worked for Rob Reiner.
The other great thing about summertime? It’s the Super Bowl of movie seasons. On any given weekend of the summer, you’re hit with wave after wave of the biggest movie stars in surefire blockbusters. Except if it’s a weekend in July with two releases, where the highlight is a movie starring Nicolas Cage with shoulder-length hair. But let’s not let that stop us. Movies are rated from one to three gold hammers, depending on how many Raisinets I ate out of boredom during the movie.
DESPICABLE ME
It took me three weeks, but finally. Finally. A CARTOON! I love cartoons. I wake up early to watch them. I stay up late to watch them. I had a plasma flatscreen installed behind the Rain Man Academy Award poster in my office just so I can watch The Wild Thornberrys whenever I want. The poster pops open at Dustin Hoffman’s mouth, so every time it looks like Dustin ate the Thornberry family and his way of making it up to me is by sharing them with me thirty minutes at a time. God, I love cartoons.
