Instead of going to the fireworks, we watched an Alfred Hitchcock marathon.
I ask you, is there anything more cheesy than The Birds, and more brilliant than Vertigo and Rear Window?
We also caught part of the Jaws marathon, but let me tell you that it was painful to watch; the special effects were so awful, awful! Really, I can’t think of one movie that redeems the 70’s in special effects. Even Lucas went back and redid Star Wars.
I love the fireworks. Maybe we’ll be able to go to the show tonight. It draws quite a crowd, but you can’t beat the comfortable stadium seating, even if it IS on a small scale..
Well, the conclusive results from today’s roto-rooter adventure are many: Mr. Crankypants was not ony cranky, but very funny in recovery. By funny, I mean his behavior–I won’t comment further because among all the things he said that I could have reported, was his pharmaceutically induced paranoia that he would be fodder for mockery here, and so in a gracious move on my part, I will surrender the opportunity for comic relief. More importantly, the glorious words of “no cancer” were uttered by his physician who would INDEED be fodder for much mockery here, but I won’t do that either.
Inconclusive stuff remains, i.e., he either has an ulcer or GERD. Whatever, more stuff to come I imagine. At any rate, Mr. Pants is fine.
