Kevin sits in the living room watching 50 First Dates.
After the first 45 seconds I am convinced it is the worst Adam Sandler movie I have ever seen. I cringe for Sandler, native of our fair city Manchester NH-whom I believe has comedic talent-but whom I also know will one day be confronted by his sixteen year old offspring:
"Dad?"
Yes?
"How could you demean yourself like that? Didn't you already make enough money? Couldn't you choose your projects? It's not even funny. And you act like all the women are stupid enough to believe your dopey lines!"
I take refuge in noting that the camera doesn't love Sandler. Skin treatments and gleaming skull-like cap of hair to the contrary, his eyes too closely=spaced and always just a touch off kilter, not a clean line anywhere in the bones of his face. Catch him in Reign Over Me (2007) as a devastated widower, and ponder how the selfsame human being could be attracted to both projects. Waterboy was cute, sure, but am I alone in thinking that the passage of time could allow the man to burnish his talent, not torch it?
So passes another moment of wedded unbliss, which we have few of, somehow. I hole up in the spare bedroom and read what for me is total escapism, a memoir about a woman who gave up her son for adoption in 1965. The introduction alone has me in tears.
After a week which went something like this: AflacsalestrainingAnatomyand PhysiologyBloodandBloodvesselsEMTclassEmergencyMovementAnatomyPhysiolgyThe HeartNutitionSugarsStatisticsHistogramsFrequencyDistributionsChemistryThermodynamicsEMT class airwaymanagementProductTrainingChemistryInermolecularForces ... a good cry over an easy book is a slum dunk.
Bracing for the next few months when every week will be just as crazy, with just as many new topics and terms competing for memory space, assignments forever done at the eleventh hour, never ahead though always studying, studying harder and longer than ever before because some of these courses are as Russian for an English major.
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