An X-Rated Stream of Consciousness

Here's a sad state of affairs for a Friday night: me, sitting on the couch, watching xXx on TV and actually paying attention to it. Well, the last part is actually the only sad part. I suppose my only redemption at this point is that I've been mostly ignoring the movie in favor of playing Cribbage on my laptop. What I DID watch just now, though, was the part of the movie were Vin Diesel does his whole "jump out of an airplane with a snowboard strapped to his feet then parachutes down to the mountain below then only barely manages to stop at exactly the right spot (just shy of the cliff's edge) before busting out his hand grenades and blowing up the communications base at the top of the mountain" action sequence.

It's riveting, and I can't tear my eyes away, right? And then there's suddenly all the bad guys trying to catch X and they're all on snowmobiles, only there's this enormous avalanche bearing down on them which manages to consume the snowmobilers like the sitting ducks they are on machines that can easily push a hundred miles per hour in ten seconds.1 Meanwhile, the badass on the snowboard easily outruns the mobile home-sized blocks of ice traveling around him at high rates of velocity. And then the incredulity kicked in, right on cue, and I was like, "Oh, right, like THAT could ever actually happen."

And then, bless it, reality slapped me in the face and told me that I was actually watching this movie. And then I had to slap myself in the face. And then I blogged about it, slapped myself again, and told myself to go to sleep.

1 Don't quote me on that number.