Drag Me Out Of This Hell!

After years of not seeing each other, Ginger and I finally reunited. And what a better way to rekindle our long lost friendship than watching a sucky horror B-movie together. Oh yeah, we love to “scaugh” (scare + laugh) ourselves silly and bitching about the movie a long, long after that; which in a way would compensate our sore disappoinment for not getting tickets for that new “Transformer” movie.

So, Saturday afternoon , right after lunch at his home we checked our brains out at the theater’s door and watched “Drag Me To Hell” and giving a new meaning of “hell”to the people who sat next to us. First of all, the movie was a apocalypstic train wreck. We laughed so hard throughout the movie that I think I broke my laughing bones (if there’s such thing exists).

I mean, come on, you know you are in a hell hole when the main character debates whether or not she should keep the button that cursed her or ultimately give it away to someone else. Those of us in the audiences chose to debate the far more provocative questions of whether the demon, in fact a jackass or rather a saviour that killed her and put out of our misery once and for all.

And the visual effect wasn’t that any good either. The last and final scene where they got this big, the-Exorcist -inspired scene with people twirling, spinning up and about in the room, the effect was so-so at best, which is like a perfect storm of movie suckiness.

My favorite part of the movie, though, would have to be that medium’s reaction when he figures out that our lady in distress was cursed by the most powerful, ancient demon, Lamia; he looks like a chimpanzee slowly discovering that the reflection in the watering hole is actually him.

But all bitching aside, like I said to Ginger at the end of the day, the most important thing about the whole experience is the chance for us to hang out together again like we used to do, the companionship, the laugh, the bad movie and all. Man, I am glad she’s back.

Ginger, in her bad, baad hair day.

But in an extremely rare good day, Ginger, is a handsome woman; compassionate, charming, attractive and shapely, too. Now, a lot of people confuse my ability to recognize Ginger’s many qualities as “having a thing for her”.

Nothing could further from the truth, for the most part. Ginger is my friend and the two of us share a very special friendship that I wouldn’t jeopardize for anything. Even if she’s experimented with mind-expanding drugs or I had saved her life or something. The point is, Ginger and I are great friends. And that’s all.

Well, unless you’ve heard her say otherwise?