Like most writers that donât enjoy starving to death, Iâve got an actual job. Shirts with collars, firm handshakes, offices with unattractive carpeting, etc... Yesterday, that job involved a one-day cross country round trip
for a single meeting. This is the sort of thing that sounds fun and glamorous if you've never done it before, or like coming down with an inflammation of giant sentient hemorrhoids if you have.
But my biggest problem with this is that Monday evening is my writing night, a holdover from back when I used to do weekly recaps of Heroes episodes (what was up with that?)
And as a consequence of my travels, I was completely out of contact with the Internet, that suckling teet that provides nourishment for us bloggers. Or, put in another, less crazy way: the knowledge of the dayâs news and pop culture that feeds my blogging was considerably impeded.
Which means that instead of ranting at you about video games, or the
Olympics (what was up with that?)
I instead present to you, the semi-literate, and probably drunk Cracked reader, with my thoughts and opinions on two 6-month old movies that I saw on the plane: Cloverfield and Vantage Point.
This movie started off well, when I saw that it was only 90 minutes long. I also enjoyed the incredibly boring first 15 minutes, which gave me time to finish my crossword puzzle. I had done a