Save me a seat!

Excuse me while I don’t run not walk to the theater (or theatre for those of you with British wannabe aspirations/pretensions) to watch Cuba Gooding Jr. star as some sort of “special person” in Radio, which, from the trailers alone, promises to be the most woefully embarrassing “feel good” movie of the season. I’m not a big fan of the “feel good” movie. Not into the pappy snappy sappy happy endings. Happy is crappy, especially when it comes with a preachy little message about how special people can teach us things we never thought we needed to learn.
If I’m going to spend $10 to feel good, I’ll just take my roll of quarters to a peep show somewhere, I will. Oh yes I will. Or maybe take that roll of quarters to the Gap near Times Square and let the cashier try to cheat me out of 75 cents 13.33333333 (continuing) times. (Yes, there’s a story there, which I hinted at yesterday, and which I promise I’ll tell you sometime if you beg. Prettily. That’s right. Prettily. Just like that. On your knees, in your schoolgirl uniform, making sure to dirty just those knees and not the socks pulled up to them. Yesssss.) Or go to a laundromat and slide some quarters in the slot for the privilege of watching small children tumble dry. (Tip: Keep the setting on LOW for children under the age of 3.)
Anything not to have to watch Radio.
As for my taste in movies, well, I’m just waiting for this season’s romantic comedy starring a pair of attractive people who, by some fluke of cosmic karmic timing, manage to find their lives intersecting, much to their chagrin because they’re from opposite sides of the political or philosophical or socio-economic coin. Oh, and of course because he’s a man and she’s a woman, and we all know how wacky that can be, what with different ways of communicating and stuff. It’s all worth it for the surprise ending, where, by some great grand miracle of mishap, and despite all those seemingly insurmountable odds, they wind up together, embracing their differences and each other.
Save me a seat for these blockbusters, kids. A seat in the ladies room, where this crap belongs! Wee!