It should be no surprise that I went to the movies this weekend. I mean, I’m a geek who’s going to Comic-Con, so you KNOW I saw The Dark Knight on opening weekend. And if you really know me and my rather embarrassing penchant for musical theatre and unabashed, obsessive love of ABBA – then you know I also saw, Mamma Mia. (I think my friend Shannon just disowned me forever). 

Both entertained me in ways that I can only describe as: erotic. Okay – maybe not erotic, but close. Very close. 

Mamma Mia was completely stupid. Let me admit that outright – but, it was so enjoyably, infectiously stupid and fun that I pretty much laughed my fanny off for two hours. Please, Remington Steele rocking S.O.S. – you would love it too, even if you didn’t admit it. 

Dark Knight was beyond awesome. So much so that talking about it here seems like a betrayal of it’s massive amazingness. Like when my “Beat Literature” teacher explained that Jack Kerouac didn’t write about his sexual exploits in On the Road because they were too special or sacred or whateverthefuck… or in High Fidelity, after Rob sleeps with Marie “the Predator” LaSalle and talks about the Charlie Rich song, Behind Closed Doors – Well, that’s how I feel about the Batman. I can say we had a good time. I can say that. 

S.O.S.