Movie Review: Reno 911!

Last year's TALLADEGA NIGHTS has the kind of silly and slapstick humor that I just love! Even though Will Ferrell annoys me, he did a fantastic job of portraying Ricky Bobby. I have been a fan of movies of this sort going back as far as AIRPLANE! So when I saw the advertisements for RENO 911!, I knew I must see it!

The Good Nurse was kind enough to join me (and even buy my ticket!) so we could see RENO 911! last night. (To show my gratitude, I have promised to see one chick flick in the next 60 days. But it must be no more than 100 minutes.)

Disappointment. Disappointment. Disappointment.

Thankfully, this movie was only 75 minutes long. If it had been any longer, I think we both would have had to leave the cinema. The premise was untenable. There were tangents of the story that left me scratching my head. (For example, a frame of the movie showing 4 members of the ensemble cast all masturbating. Well, at least going through the motions even though there was no nudity.)

Because of the sexual innuendos, the movie is not suitable for children. All of the humor, though, is on a third grade level. So the makers of the movie have managed to lose all possible audiences.

One saving grace: I thought the actors did a fantastic job of acting. Besides doing a good job, I am most impressed that they were able to play their roles without rolling their eyes through each scene.

If you don't see ANY movies this year, this will be the one least missed.

Ash Wednesday

Maybe I heard about it or read about it and it just didn't stick with me. But going home from work last night, I noticed a couple of people with a distinct discoloration on their foreheads. Then it dawned on me. Yesterday was Ash Wednesday. That would have made Tuesday night be Mardi Gras and I didn't celebrate because I didn't even realize it. Narry a drink for me. Is this a sign I am getting old?

Growing up in rural Kentucky, most people were country Baptist or country Methodist or what is generally known as Pentecostal (including Assemblies of God, Charismatic, holiness and churches with "signs following.") We didn't have Mardi Gras or Ash Wednesday. We didn't have Lent. So that was a new concept to me just a very few years ago. We also didn't have people who practiced Judaism. When I first moved to New York City, it took me a short while to figure out why some people's offices or businesses were closed early on Friday.

Since moving to New York City, I have not met anyone who is what I call "Hillbilly Baptist," a term of endearment I apply to my faith. I have met people who are Catholic, Jewish, Episcopalian, Muslim and Buddhist. I know that there are "old timey" Baptists in the city because I have walked by their churches. There are even a couple in my neighborhood, but their services are in Spanish.

As a final note, I cannot speak of the many, many people who represent my Lord. But I can speak about those who most certainly do NOT, for we know a tree by its fruit. I am sure you will recognize a few of these names, and do be leery of them:

-Jerry Falwell
-Oral Roberts
-Robert Tilton
-Pat Robertson
-John Hagee
-Jan and Paul Crouch
-The gay-basher from the midwest whose name I refuse to type

Why do I make this claim? Simply because they espouse views of hatred and confusion. Those are two things that are distinctly UN-Christian.

Feelin' No Pain

The Good Nurse has often told me that I am too willing to accept a pill as a magical cure for whatever ails me. I guess it's cultural.

But in fairness to me, The Good Nurse has suggested I take a Valium from time to time.

Isn't it ironic?

Spring Fire Season Begins Today

7 against 4

We had the spirit. We had the heart. We had the desire.


But we didn't have 5 players. We had only four. The other team had 7 players. So they were able to wear us down and take the victory by 9 points. But we never gave up!

Next week is a holiday weekend, so there won't be any games. GYM Bar (my team) plays again February 25th at 3pm. Let's pray for 5 players!

Notes: in the picture above, I am #7. Also, I have stolen this picture and I am using it without permission of its copyright holder. I hope I don't get caught!

Finally, I should point out that my dentist was a spectator for the most recent game. He said it was the first basketball game he had ever really seen in person. He has suggested that we would look much better if we had some sequins or glitter or something to spice up our dull, black uniforms. Hmph.

February Madness

With some 3 months down, and almost 2 months to go, the inaugural season of New York City's Gay Basketball League is entering the homestretch. While my team, GYM Bar, continues to struggle due to injuries, we are now playing better than we ever have. The healthy, remaining players continue to come together as a team and improve our performance. I remain excited about the balance of the league and the play-offs themselves.

So...visit the website, look at the schedule, and come watch a game or two. What better way to spend a chilly, winter, Sunday afternoon?

How a Rumor Spreads

On Saturday afternoon, my mother called me (in NYC) to ask if I had heard anything about my uncle dying. She had heard that he was killed in a car wreck. I confessed that I had not heard a thing about it. She said that she had heard the rumor but it was not on the local radio news. We must have talked 5 or 6 times over the weekend to compare notes.

Finally, I decided to call Trucker Dan (who excites the Good Nurse to no end), whose brother is a policeman, to ask them to chase down the rumor. Even the police dispatcher had heard the rumor. They called all the neighboring counties and could find no records of a fatal accident. Turns out that the rumor was just a rumor. This is the text of an email I received from Trucker Dan this morning:

Hey there! I never found anything to prove it true. I was went to Herrington's house for the Superbowl, and he overheard brandon and I talking about it and he was on the phone with Humpy, who had Henry on the other line, and he said nothing of Jerry being killed. Must have been a real crazy rumor!
Talk to you soon,
Daniel

So, the final accounting has my uncle still alive. Even though he lost a leg several years ago to a motorcycle accident, the rest of him remains alive. The moral of the story? Believe none of what you hear and only half of what you see.

Sixty Years and Counting

Wednesday, February 7, 2007, marks the 60th anniversary of my mother's birth. While Dianna "Dinwiddie" has long been eligible to join AARP, now she is only 2.5 years from receiving partial social security and 5 years from drawing full Social Security.

Happy Birthday, Momma!

The Good Nurse Has Two Encounters With the Law

On Tuesday morning, the Good Nurse delivered his car to the dealership so they could reattach some wires that had come loose in the steering column, rendering all the controls on the left side out of service. After a leisurely lunch with friends, he went back to the dealer to fetch his car. While waiting, a gentleman there who was also waiting struck up a conversation with the Good Nurse. The Good Nurse thought that someone was hitting on him. In his own words, the Good Nurse described this gentleman as, “HOT. SO VERY HOT. HE WAS ON FIRE!”

Suddenly I felt inadequate.

The Good Nurse went on to share with me the conversation he had with the gentleman. Turns out that the guy lives in Syracuse. They both lamented the fact that it takes 7 or 8 hours to drive to Syracuse. The Good Nurse allowed that he once drove it in under 6 hours. At this point, the gentleman showed his badge to the Good Nurse and revealed that he is a State Trooper. He warned the Good Nurse that attempting to set any more speed records while the Trooper is working would be unwise.

The Good Nurse then told me he would like to see the Trooper wearing his uniform. He didn’t tell the Trooper that, of course. After all, the Trooper is married. To a woman.

The Good Nurse’s next encounter with the Law was last week as he reported for jury duty. If you are an attractive man who had a trial starting last week, you should have tried to get the Good Nurse on your jury. If you are cute enough, the Good Nurse would have seen to it that you were acquitted. Or at least that it would be a hung jury. No pun intended.

The "Best Chest" Contest

It was several years ago. Exactly what year I can’t truly recall. But it happened at Woody’s, a popular gay bar in Toronto. (Parts of "Queer as Folk" were filmed there.)

My day had actually begun many hours before. I had a late night flight from Chicago to Sacramento. Upon arrival, I had time to check in at the hotel, get a couple hours of sleep and then head to the home office. I spent most of the day learning about the newest products from the company that employed me. Then it was a race to the airport to catch an overnight flight to Toronto to present information on those same products to our Canadian distributor. Because of the time change, I didn’t have time to shower or even check into the hotel. Fortunately, my presentation was only scheduled for the morning hours. It was quite a chore to present information that I had only seen for the first time just a few hours earlier. Every time someone would ask a question about the new products, 99% of the time my answer would be, “let me get back to you.” I managed to escape by noon, grab a quick bite of lunch, and go check in at the hotel. This was around 3pm. I showered and lay down for a quick nap. By 4pm, I was awake and ready to reward myself with a happy hour drink or two. My flight back to the Midwest wasn’t until noon the next day. I was in no hurry.

Happy hour found me on Church Street, a street that is host to many businesses catering to the gay and lesbian community in Toronto. I poked around in a couple of shoppes and finally found myself on a barstool at Woody’s. At 5pm, there were maybe 3 people in the bar. I sat in the very back of the bar, reading a newspaper and enjoying a Labatt Blue—Canadian Beer. I had some Loonies and Twonies from prior trips. What better way to spend them?

Soon after I arrived, a fellow came in the bar and sat right next to me. He looked like he just walked out of a magazine. He was hot. Around 6'1", 200 perfectly-proportioned pounds, wavy dark hair, and a sculpted jawline on a beautiful face. And he struck up a conversation with me. His name was William. And he was at Woody’s to compete in the “Best Chest” contest. This was his way to celebrate his 21st birthday. (Lest I be accused of being a cradle robber, remember that I was in my mid-20s myself.) After he told me that, I did what a gentleman should do in this situation: I bought him a shot. He thanked me and we continued to talk. He lived north of Toronto. He was single. (Did I also say he was hot?) The happy hour stretched into evening as we talked and just enjoyed each other’s company. Finally, the “best chest” contest began in all its glory.

William certainly had the “best chest.” However, he was not the winner. He came in 2nd. That’s what happens when a contest’s winner is determined by audience applause and the winner brings his own fan club. Them’s the breaks.

As a consolation, I offered to buy William another shot. He accepted. Neither of us really wanted to hang around Woody’s any more that evening. So we departed to another watering hole just a few doors away from Woody’s. William began paying me an amount of attention that surprised me. (He liked me, he really liked me!) Too bad he lived in a foreign country—and near a city that was miles and miles from where I lived.

After finishing our “happy hour,” which by then had gone until 10:30pm, William began lamenting about his train ride home. “Do you really have to go?” I asked. He replied, “well, I suppose so, since I have no place to sleep here in Toronto.”

I couldn’t let this young man get on train and navigate his way home knowing that he was quite intoxicated. That would be irresponsible. So I once again extended my hand of friendship. “William, I invite you to stay in my hotel room tonight. You can leave tomorrow morning when I leave for the airport.” He accepted and we began making our way to Bloor Street.

A gentleman does not “kiss and tell,” so I won’t reveal any more about our time together. I will say only that, in more ways than one, I was glad that William accepted my invitation. And no one is too smart to keep them from learning things from someone younger.