Rodimus Prime
I’m surprised to be saying that Transformers was the first movie this Summer not to disappoint me (besides Knocked Up). I suppose that could be because I went in with pretty low expectations, but whatever.
For those of you who haven’t seen it, it’s definitely worth paying to see it on the big screen.
Big metal things
I have not yet partaken of Transformers, even though everyone I know seems to assume that my personality is hard-wired to salivate at even the prospect of giant battles waging CGI battle.
This is true, but I do have some sense of restraint. Like a good Pixar fan, I went and saw Ratatouille instead (damn you, Google, for your smug, “Did you mean to type, ‘Ratatouille?” Yes. I fucking did. Are you happy?). I liked the rodent-making-peasant-meal tale, even though I had to wonder how a movie about French cuisine and the alienation of the elite genius is kiddie fare. Kids in the audience I saw the movie with were a little bit restless during the talky/foodie portions and one kid behind me had a running dialogue, as if the kid were recording their own commentary track to sell on teh w4bz.
Neither here nor there, but I was a little skeptical about whether Meany would be interested in any kind of human female. But then I remembered his mantra, “Boobs are boobs, Bobbo,” and it all became clear.
I like to call it… “New Braunfels”
I’m not in Vegas.
I’m here waiting for a baby to pop out. I wish it would hurry up so I can go wager the college fund in Vegas!
Sigh.
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