English 101: I want your badge, I want your weapon, & I want your ass.

So I’m going to admit something embarrassing…but I figure that’s sort of what this blog is for. Growing up, when I was four, five, six, seven years old, I had crushes on major actions stars. Many, many action stars. But in this case I’m going to discuss two in particular: Kurt Russell & Sylvester Stalone.

As far as these youthful loves were concerned, it was Kurt Russell in Overboard wearing a freakishly nipple bearing tank top &, even more prominently was Rambo who made regular appearances in my pre-tween dreams. (A re-occuring dream, in fact, where I climbed big, big cliffs from which I inevitably fell… into muscular & somewhat sweaty Rambo’s arms.)

In honor of these once upon a time crushes, I whimsically checked out Tango & Cash from the library. I was actually there to return books & checked the movie aisles while I was there. It felt… I don’t know… right. Nostalgic. Sure, I’m smart enough to know it’s not good, but I’m also young enough to feel affection for it. For the times when I was a young little girl, sitting on what was then my parent’s sectional sofa (they’ve since upgraded to a classy leather number), watching these two studlies go all shoot-em-up with my father. (He probably wouldn’t have called them studlies.)

So, I have this movie sitting by my television. I make a nice dinner, sit down, pour a glass of pinot noir. What to do next? I decide it’s laugh riot extravaganza time.

And the movie definitely delivers—everything from the exceptionally bad dialogue to Kurt Russell’s most hilariously large & funny shaped gun—but something is wrong. Dear Readers, please forgive me. This movie…ugh… I feel sick just saying this… somehow reminds me of why I was attracted to Kurt Russell. Sure, he still has the mullet & the too tight jeans & the awkwardly cut-up tee shirts. But there’s something—the jib of his chiseled jaw, his gristled facial hair, his squinty blue eyes. Something absurdly sexy about him. Sylvester too, somehow even better in a suit.

In neither case does it last. Their charms wear off in about three minutes. But the movie? Well that continues to be charming.

Sylvester plays Tango, the bourgoise, stock-broking copper with over-sized biceps & a tailored suit—not in it for the dough, but the justice. Kurt plays Cash, your regular, blue-collar dick, the kind who likes his mirror image & has a chip on his shoulder.

They’re framed for murder by the Asian drug-lord they’ve both been catching in the swindle. They plea bargain & go to prison, supposedly minimum security, but instead they’re sent to general population. They both glisten like angels as, in the grand tradition of prison movies, they are attacked by their fellow inmates (dipped in electrified pools of water) & then escape (sliding down electric cables hanging onto their belts for dear life-- this movie is, shall we say, electric?) on a mission to prove their innocence. Which, after many explosions, they do.

Notable dialogue:

“When this is over remind me to rip this guy’s throat out.” ~Cash
“With a tow truck.” ~Tango

“When this is over we have to pay Java the Hut here a visit.” ~Tango
“I’ll bring the chainsaw.” ~Cash
“I’ll bring the beer.” ~Tango

“Can I be frank? I think you’re looking terribly anemic. I think what you need (sound of gun cocking) is a little iron in your diet.” ~Tango



Dragon News:

Thomas Edison was definitely a dragon.
Nikola Tesla was definitely a dragon.

I’m pretty sure their electrical battles were Dragon Wars!


PS. This post was sponsored by Steven Seagall, General Electric, & D-Wars (the movie).

Much love!

you have to straddle the ball, mandy!

Post title courtesy of my mother.

While playing mini golf. That seems important.

This drag is about to fly away to Idaho after a long hiatus.

Things that I have done over the course of the break: drank about 15 iced coffees from Dunkin Donuts, adopted a moose (Wubbie), purchased a zebra print snuggie, used the weirdest toilet ever, drank a lot of Sam Adams, and pondered my future while watching assorted movies on the lifetime movie channel. What a gem of a station! A GEM! Career options brainstormed:

1)snuggie maker for drags.
2) Make Target establish a "greeter" position ala Walmart and pretty much push anyone down the stairs ala showgirls who attempted to vie for the position.
3.) romance novel authoress. I was at Target with my brother (who is trying to take over my blog) buying a snuggie, which apparently was embarressing for him (i guess it's weird to vana white the snuggie in the parking lot and ask assorted dunkin donuts [iced coffee!] employees and pedestrians if they liked my purchase). But I made us walk down the book aisle (okay. aisles. sort of.) so I could get self-righteous about twilight or tori spelling or anita shreve, and I saw a romance novel entitled: Your Ranch or Mine?

.........perfect! I was thinking I could do a spin off with dragons and do Your Castle or Mine, and then Your Cave or Mine (imagine the covers on those, readers!), and things could get lucrative and I could do Your Yacht or Mine (for Connecticut residents) and Your Ice Cream Truck or Mine (for pedophiles!) And I could keep going! Forever!

I also was skulking about and found all of these awesome poems I wrote in intro poetry in college. I was so angsty! Why didn't anyone tell me? This is a line from one of the poems:

You put things into boxes and I'm caustic, caustic.

There is more where that came from. Trust me. Listen to that sweet assonance--or whatever it's called! I also found all of these papers that I wrote about Chaucer and I tricked my mom into reading them. So now she is all atwitter about the Manciple and the Squire. Backfire.

I don't even know what I'm talking about. I was going to frame this using a movie like one ms. amber nelson, but the only thing I saw besides Stella Got her Groove Back (lifetime movie channel! i am telling you! pure gold!) was Harry Pottah. This resulted in the purchase of an "I'd get sleezy for Ron Weasley shirt".

Idaho tomorrow. Dragon high five!