Reasons for Yesterday's "Reasons... #1"

Perhaps someone wrote me, perhaps not. You will never know for sure. I will not give you that pleasure. Given that about three of my old friends back home even bother to contact me anymore, let alone comment on this blog, it is just as likely that no one sent me a comment or email reaction to yesterday's totally selfish and slathering posting that I titled "Reasons I Am Watching the Sarah Connor Chronicles Even Though I Never Saw the Last Terminator Film and Haven't Given A Rat's Ass in 10 Years #1."

Or maybe they did. I get some strange, random comments from people of whom I have never had any contact before, and if I were to be honest (which I might be, or not. You will never know for sure. That pleasure, too, I am denying you), I might admit that I care even more about these occurrences than I do those that drift in sporadically from my ex-entourage. Maybe one of these random emails mentioned some concern about the brevity of my comments on the picture that I swiped from somewhere else on the internet, given the fact that I am normally so rik-dic-ulously verbose in nature.

The comments (and reason #1) to wit:
"Sweet, sweet Summer Glau...//...even if Luis thinks she has a giant forehead..." This statement, in every possible facet, is completely true in nature. Summer Glau is the first of two major reasons that I am watching the new Fox Terminator series The Sarah Connor Chronicles. In fact, she is the main reason, due to my swearing a lifelong devotion to all four of the main female actors from the late, lamented Firefly series. (I have also sworn the same oath regarding the male actors on the show, but there is nothing latently sexual connected to that particular oath. Or is there...?) And Luis, one of my co-workers at my daytime gig, did mention his considered opinion that her forehead is kind of a turn-off to him. Not me; ample forehead space has always been good enough for me when discussing Christina Ricci, so why should it bother me on the tasty Ms. Glau? Answer: it doesn't, not even for a second. Maybe I like girls that look like they stepped out of a casting call for a remake of Invasion of the Saucer Men.

The title, too, did not lie at all. I have not seen Terminator 3, having pretty much given up on the Governator's movie career by the time of its release. And, except for coming about a foot away from running smackdab into Robert Patrick's chest at Disney's California Adventure two Novembers ago while darting off the Grizzly River Rapids completely soaking wet (I bowed my head and said, "Good afternoon, Mr. Patrick" and he said "Hello" and smiled quizzically), I truly did not give a rat's ass about the franchise anymore. I loved the first film, of course, and still do; I barely remember, except for a few exceptional sequences, the second film at all, even though I purchased it on DVD (I still have not watched that disc). In no way, either in concept, title or execution, was my post of last night a lie in any way. Unless Summer Glau is not doubly sweet, and there is no way I can prove or disprove that without going to prison... or gettin' very, very lucky.

Given that I had not posted since this past Monday morning -- just before I spent a full four hours in the Minneapolis Airport, caught an hour and a half flight to Cleveland, spent four hours there sneezing, 'acking and coughing like a more human version of Bill the Cat and wondering why the rock n' roll gift shop there sucked so badly (especially in a city laying claim to the genre for mostly specious reasons), and then slowly drifted back to L.A. on a five-hour flight, still 'acking all the way and causing many of my neighbors to look at me with much concern -- some might look at my Summer Glau post late last night as a total act of desperation. Especially after going right back to work from my trip, and then diving straight into taking care of someone close following a medical procedure; time to myself has been very constricted. It's understandable, if you don't know the other person's schedule, that one might perceive another person, especially a constant blogger, to be "coasting" a bit. And maybe I received an email declaring this opinion; maybe not. Perhaps there then was posited the "brevity" concern, and perhaps it was this very brevity that stuck the notion in the possible mailer's brain that I was, for the sake of filling underused blog space, doing this "coasting" via a picture of a very pretty girl.

Perhaps they even felt I was acting out on a aching need to be publicly perverse in some mostly clothed fashion. The purpose of my blog is purely as a writing exercise, but every once in a while, I am struck by the urge to post a photo and yell at the world, "Look at this!" I get totally misogynistic, objectify a female not even remotely of my acquaintance (she would be soooo lucky if she were...), and paste her image into my blog just so I can show the world where my interests, or where I would like to, lie. For the concerned (if indeed there are truly those that are possessed of such concerns), as of posting Summer Glau's photo late last night, this has now happened a grand total of two times on the Cinema 4 Pylon. The first time was for a post I titled "Purely Prurient Reasons Why I Watched This Stuff As A Teenager #1: Star Trek," and, indeed, I had seen a particular episode of the original series late one night and felt the need to post a picture of the ravishing creature flitting about throughout the story, a girl whose image cause me much in the way of fantasy longing as a wee lad. Now, she doesn't do much for me. I loathe false eyelashes, and this girl looks like she is hanging a pair of giant multiple-furrow ploughs from her lids.
Since when did the future look like the mid-'60s? Yes, thanks to that wardrobe deficiency, she doesn't do a thing for middle-aged me... outside of the deeply exposed bare midriff and her incredible body. And the posting of her photo was primarily instigated by me fervent need to have a couple days off from this writing exercise. And because I was being a bit pervy.

So, perhaps I received an email regarding this, perhaps not. Or perhaps it was really my need to find out just how many letters I needed to max out the title box in a Blogger entry. I assure you, I did max it out with the Glau post. I won't tell you, as with the truth regarding the existence of questioning emails in this text, how many letters it takes to fill the title box; if you need to know, you can count them. It is a truth you will have to divine for yourself. And it is the only truth you are going to drag out of this post. This truth is surrounded by many other truths, for not once have I outright lied within the borders of these paragraphs.

But, neither have I admitted to anything at all. Or perhaps I have...


B-Train said…
I think she has a stripper name, not that I am against that or anything
Hannah Montana. That's a stripper name if ever there was one.

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