“Did you guys miss the Oscars?” asked a man at 9:30, as the first post-show customers began to trickle in to the video store.
“No, we didn’t,” I said.
“Oh, you guys got to watch them in here?”
“No,” I said. He looked at me funny. I clarified, “We didn’t miss ’em.” He got it, and laughed.
Sara and I killed time on one of the slowest Rocket nights in memory by watching Nightmare on Elm Street movies. We started with the third one (The Dream Warriors.) It’s a fan favorite, but I’ve never considered it one of my own favorites. Actually, I love it, as I love all those flicks, but I’d rank it lower than most people. The best line of the series comes from that one, however. The nun, voice low with awe and portent, breathing the words, “The bastard son of a hundred maniacs!” Yep, that’s Freddy.
We actually kept track of the winners on the web while we worked. Sean Penn won. Cool. Errol Morris won. cool. Zellweger won. Bummer. What else won? Sofia Coppola. (Thanks, Dad!) Fran Walsh & Philippa Boyens. Cool. Anything else? Return of the King. And oh yeah, The Barbarian Invasions…
“Check this out! This is the part where Jennifer Rubin’s needle tracks start singing for their supper.”
“And look, Freddy’s fingers turn into needles!”
“How does he die in the second one?”
“I can’t remember. i just remember the end, with the bus driving off through the desert, and the guy in back going, ‘I’m GAY!!'”
“You know, in the beginning of the next movie the dog pisses fire…”
Sara and I munch on Mike & Ike’s. Life is good.
