Dark Knight




So Gwen and I saw "The Dark Knight" last night.

I liked it, liked it just fine as a matter of fact. But at the risk of being unpopular (since there seems to be a Batman love-fest going on right now), I didn't love it. I definitely found it to be uneven at times. And sadly, the biggest problem? It's Christian Bale. He's really not that good, and the more I think about it, the more I'm convinced of this. He's not terrible by any means, but he's just, well, flat. He doesn't excite me. And I think that's what really holds this movie back. He's surrounded by really strong talent on all sides (Oldman, Freeman, Caine, and of course Ledger), but he just didn't quite hold his own in the big scenes when he really had to, at least not for me, and he's supposed to be the damn hero. (And I'm not just talking about that gravelly whisper-voice, which while annoying, seems to serve a purpose to further hide his identity.)

So compared to the other big superhero movies, even the ones from just this summer, Batman suffers from the worst lead. Robert Downey Jr. turns in a monster performance in Iron Man, and I really liked Ed Norton as Bruce Banner, but Bale just doesn't measure up to that level of talent in my opinion. Which is a shame.

My other big complaint is the number of half-fleshed out subplots which didn't really amount to a ton by the end. Also, I never really got the superhero chills in this movie - I was never incredibly revved up to be watching. In every other superhero movie worth it's salt, I get this sort of vibe at least once, where I'm ready to hi-five the people next to me in the theater. This one, with it's more suppressed tone (not a bad thing necessarily), just didn't do that for me.

Other than that though, I did enjoy the movie. Ledger, who is of course getting mad press, really does seem to live up the hype. After the first scene or two I wasn't sure, probably because I was expecting instant miracles after said hype, but after he got going I was really into him. He nailed it. Morgan Freeman, Michael Caine, and Gary Oldman likewise were nails. So was the guy who played Harvey Dent. And Maggie Gyllenhall was a serious step up from Robo-Wife-of-Tom-Cruise Katie Holmes, who threatened to single handedly derail Batman Begins, which is overrated to me (again, heavy Bale involvement).

So there it is, let the hate mail from my WCD breathren pour in.

Other thoughts:

-Every Superhero movie from this past rush of Superhero movies (over the past 10 years or so) has some big weakness which foils it's potential Lord of the Rings-esque greatness. Even my beloved Spiderman.

F0r these Batman movies, it's Bale (among other things). For Spiderman, it's the 25 minute love discussions between Peter Parker and Mary Jane. For Iron Man, it's the last battle. For Hulk, I think it's that the main hero character is basically CGI. And so on. They all have their problems which keep them from being in that unbridled 5-star class like LOTR.

-Of all the Batmans, I liked Michael Keaton the best. That said, I think Clooney has/had the most potential to be even better. Sure, he was stuck in Schumacher's disgraceful "Batman and Robin", but I think in the right setting, even these movies, he could knock the role out of the park. Maybe he's not dark enough, not sure, but he's a good enough actor to pull it off, I think.

Muscles from Brussels

For those of you don't remember, the phrase "Muscles from Brussels" was a surrogate name of sorts for the one and only mega-action star/"actor" otherwise known as Jean Claude Van Damme.

That's right - THE Jean Claude Van Damme.

(Note: From here on out, Jean Claude Van Damme will be referred to as JCVD. It's easier to type, and apparently it's also the title of a documentary on his life. Check the link)


My thoughts drifted often to JCVD as Gwen and I spent a weekend in his hometown. Whether it was haggling over a souvenir and wondering if I would have to deliver a jumping, spinning roundhouse kick to the merchant's face to get the price I wanted(*) OR wondering when I'd have to bust out those sweet splits followed by a quick groin punch to some mugger's 'nads as Gwen and I walked through a sketchy part of town, (**) I knew that the spirit of JCVD traveled with us everywhere we went.


(* Line of choice following said kick, as the merchant lies in a pool of his own teeth: "Negotiation Over.")

(** No line here, but to set the imagery a little more this punch would be one of those no-look punches where, as I was still in the splits - which I would have busted out in a millisecond I might add - I would look away with a primal, slow motion, face-quivering-side-to-side yell as my balled fist, connected to a ridiculously ripped, veiny arm, delivered the goods.)

Sorry, just wanted to go off on how sweet JCVD was there. Does anyone remember his movies? Bloodsport? Time Cop? Double Team? Sudden Death?! I mean there is some real quality crap in there if you know what you're looking for. I love me some JCVD.

The drive to Brussels took roughty 3 to 4 hours and was relatively pleasant and straightforward. Gwen had picked out a Bed and Breakfast which sounded pretty quaint but turned out to be a moldy, small-bedded death room not fit for a jail. OK, that's an exaggeration, but the room wasn't really all that sweet. Apparently most of the rooms in this particular B&B are pretty nice, but since we called late in high tourist season we got stuck with the musty basement room. The bed was a double, and only had ONE blanket, which was about 6 feet by 4 feet and ensured a nightly tug of war the entire first night, though we tried to be civil about it. The room was so bad that by Saturday we had talked ourselves into just getting a hotel room at the Sheraton nearby and eating the cost of the second night at the B&B (which thankfully was quite cheap). Gwendolyn beat herself up about the choice of accommodations but after all the planning she has done over our years of traveling I think she gets a freebie for this one, which wasn't even her fault. (So there Gwendolyn.)

Also the B&B wasn't in the best part of town, being located in the immigrant "Turk" area and made for some sketchy walking the first night, until we knew where we were going. Luckily, again, I had a plethora of go-to JCVD moves at my disposal if things got out of hand. Thankfully, for any would be assailants that is, they didn't.

We also had trouble finding a place to eat Friday night, settling for some sort of generic place called the "Brussels Grill". It was the only thing we could find open, but again this was mostly our lack of knowledge of the town at this point.

Things definitely picked up the rest of the trip after that first night.

The guidebooks will tell you that Belgium is famous for waffles, beer, and chocolate. And they are right on all three accounts. I'm surprise people are not more in love with the Belgians just for these reasons. The beer is some seriously high quality stuff and they take it as seriously as the French take their wine only without the hoisted noses. The chocolate is ridiculous, and even the waffles have a little something extra. You know something? That country is alright. It even got Gwen to drink beer (albeit Cherry Beer, which, though good, is not quite "beer beer") and like it.

Saturday we did some hop on hop off bus tour which got ruined halfway through because of a massive thunderstorm which lasted about an hour. Still, despite the halting pause, it was a nice way to see the city. The coolest part which I wish we could have visited more was the ATOMIUM, a humoungous replica of an iron crystal in atomic form. (Given the storm and the bus, I couldn't really get any good pics, hence the link.)

Other Brussels highlights were the "Grand Place" (simple but effective naming), and several World War II Memorials (there all so much better outside of Germany - I wonder why?) When not on the bus Saturday, Gwen and I tromped around just checking things out. Aside from the brisk thunderstorm, the weather was actually pretty good.

Deciding on this trip to forgo any fine art museums (we've seen a lot of art lately), Saturday afternoon we instead headed to a comic museum. Brussels is actually known as "The Comic City" in some circles, and we did pass multiple comic stores. Problem was everything was in French, so boo that. Also, this museum dealt exclusively in the Belgian Comic Scene, which apparently has a rich and storied past that I know absolutely nothing about. With one exception: The Smurfs. And there was an entire smurf display which was pretty cool (and actually had English descriptions, something the rest of the museum lacked). It was neat, but we didn't end up staying as long as I would have thought at a placed called a Comic Museum.

On Saturday Gwen booked reservations at some super fancy restaurant which turned out to be a great choice. The highlight of this place, other than the amazing food, was the unisex bathrooms which had translucent/clear doors on the stalls which turned opaque only after they were locked! As Gwen and I were both leaving the bathroom and about to leave the restaurant, we spied some lady having "trouble" with this concept - she was seated on a stall reaching out for the lock and missing a couple of times before getting it. Seeing her, sitting there on a toilet seat, in FULL view, was a little awkward...

Sunday, after enjoying a good night's sleep courtesy of our much, much, much better room (and king -size bed), we walked around a bit in the late morning and into lunch, drank another beer or two, bought some beer and chocolate to take home, and then headed out. On the way home we nearly ran out of gas, which caused some, uh, consternation, but we eventually found a gas station in some vineyard town before having to resort to pushing the car.

And that was that. Brussels is a good town, and definitely worth a look if for no other reason than the beer and chocolate.

Pics!

Brussels July 2008

Godspeed Pete Henning




Yes, Pete is gone. ("Destroyed...by the Empire.") But he wasn't blown up, like Alderaan. He merely flew out yesterday, rather, off to Washington D.C. to begin his Rheumatology Fellowship at Walter Reed. I'll never forgive him for it, frankly, leaving me and Gwen like this. Leaving us alone, Pete-less, in this big scary Europe. How dare he? After all we've been through. We feel abandoned.

It was a bummer, to be sure, to see Pete go. We've had lots of fun in the past three years in Europe (and other places), and during the past six years total since I first met the guy. My first memory of him was him cracking some joke about gall bladders at lunch when we were interns. I don't remember what he said, just his midwest accent and goofy smile. This guy is alright I thought, alright indeed.

Cut away to six years later and we've been around the world together, from the best places to the worst (Speaking of, I'll never forget what an awesome sight old Pete Henning was that first night at FOB Falcon in Baghdad when I first arrived after completing what were probably the two most stressful weeks of my life. Whoa - listen to me - something tells me I'll be telling that story 40 years from now while I wear a hat covered in war pins, but still, it's true. Anyway, it was like something out of movie; I just finished riding a blackhawk over Baghdad war skies wondering if a rocket was screaming toward me the entire time, and then an hour later Pete and I are cracking jokes in some shitty dorm room on some shitty FOB in some shitty country and everything was just a little better, just because he was there. Good stuff this "friends" thing, I'm telling you. ) We've had a lot of fun from our trio with George days in residency to our early European exploration to our seasoned veteran traveling.

Anyway, all that said, I won't ruin a perfectly good post with sappy stories of fun times or anything, but I will say it's sad to see friends leave. Nothing profound there, just a fact.

Oh I'll see Pete Henning again, pleny of times, make no mistake. But will I ever live near him again? Who knows.

And with that, let's do this. What eveyrone came to see. What everyone NEEDS to see. The Pose montage.

...there's gonna be a MON-TAGE....


In chronological order...


Insurgent's worst nightmare, March 2006

(It took us about five minutes upon getting together at FOB Falcon to start playing with our gear, our weapons, and the camera. About 200 meters away from this shot, across walls that is, there was a damn war going on - it was a mixed Shiite, Sunni neighborhood. And about 800 meters away in the other direction, some feral dogs were on the prowl looking for a fight....)




Baghdad, FOB Falcon, Fall 2006, and the picture that launched "The Pose" for many trips to come.

(Yup, this one started it all. Taken by my PA Jeff. I don't know what the hell brought it up, the idea. This picture was months after the one above, and after my leave from Iraq. We were probably a month away from leaving country at this point, maybe less. I think it was October.)



Berlin, before New Year's, 2006

(Now it's starting to become a trend. The temperature was probably in the 30's this day - I think Eryn took this picture. This was part of our back-from-Iraq drinking binge New Year's extravaganza. Frankly it's kind of fuzzy.)



Berlin, drunken New Year's Eve 2007

(Now we're cooking with gas. And booze. This was just after getting out of the cab which we took from a Spanish Restaurant where we ate dinner (and where we were scowled at mightily I might add by the Germans, simply because of how Pete was dressed and because we were drunk and maybe a tad loud - but come on people, it was New Year's!) Anyway, it's around 11 pm New Year's Eve when this shot was taken. It was cold as hell but I didn't care or feel it at that moment, I mean look at me I'm sauced. After this picture our group (six in all) trekked around to find the Brandenburg Gate and the center of New Year's festivities. I remember, maybe a half hour after this photo, Pete went looking for a short cut through some woods and coming back a few minutes later with no new secret path, just a large cut on his face from a low branch. Good times.)





Chamonix, Winter 2007

(Taken by Libby. Not the best snow in the world that trip, but you just can't beat the scenery of the Alps. Just can't. Oh wait, it's not a Pose either. How'd this get in here?)




Bermuda, George's Wedding weekend, May 2007

(Spring time and love is in the air. George and Cristin. Me and Pete. The Bermuda shorts make this one an instant classic. There's another shot like this one (we always took a few) where I'm about to fall and both Pete and I are in stitches. Maybe I'll put it up one day...)





George's Wedding Day, Bermuda, May 2007

(We couldn't resist the opportunity to take one of these babies in our suits and in perhaps with the best scenery of any of these shots. This one might be my favorite - this or drunken Berlin.)






George's Wedding night, Bermuda, May 2007

(No pose here, either, just a few too many and a camera sitting around. )



Dublin, Ireland, 2007

(Ireland was a great trip. This shot is taken at the University, and the statue behind us is of some "crusty dean" who wouldn't admit women. Apparently after he died, they got right in. There's more to that story, but that's all I can remember for now. I think this is the first shot since the original where I go left arm on torso - I'm still figuring out which side works best to hold Pete.)



Croatia, the first trip, August 2007

(Pete really nailed the tender aspect of the mock kiss in this one, kind of like Bermuda in suits. (He's getting good at it by now, just look at him screw it up royally back in Berlin for contrast purposes.) This was taken in Mali Losinj, a place I could honestly live and just one town over from my grandfather's village, Veli Losinj.)




Barcelona, October 2007

(I'm pretty sure I can still hear John Lesher cackling as this shot was taken. This was taken at the end of a long bike tour which rocked. My favorite part is the outline of the guidebook in Pete's pocket- either that or it's his bony ass.)



Croatia, the second trip, on the walls of Dubrovnik, June 2008

(Back in Croatia, first time we tried this shot with dueling hats (with brims). It made it a little tricky, but by this point we're pros so it was no big deal. I'm back with right arm to torso now. I think I finally settled on that side as my preferred "Power Base" for these pictures.)







And finally our swan song, Paris, July, 2008

(It started to rain right before we shot this. It's as if Paris, and to a larger extent Europe, knew we were saying goodbye...)


And there it is. Until I hold Pete in my arms again, and there's a camera around to document it.

Until we meet again Pete Henning.

Woe is Me

Shockey's a Saint?

Pete's leaving Germany for good tomorrow?

My world is collapsing.

Paris Pics

As promised.

Some good shots in there.


Paris July 2008



And the next post on the docket, ugh, is currently too depressing to think about.

Back to Paris

Pete, Gwen and I spent last weekend in Paris. It was basically our last "hurrah" in terms of traveling with Pete in Europe - that jerk is moving away to Washington D.C. next week to start his Rheumatology fellowship, and in the process is breaking my heart. No more Pete? Why live? I'm pissed.

Anyway, we sure are going to miss Pete, but more on that in a later post. I wanted to knock out a quick recap of this Paris trip and then come back later with the bulk of the pics, once I have a chance to tune them and load them into a web album.

Anyway, this was my FOURTH trip to the city of lights, and the place never gets old. I love how it's only three to four hours away by car. We drove this time, figuring that with two people it's about a 50/50 decision to take the train versus driving a car, but the convenience of the train wins out. With three, however, the car is the way to go to save a little money. Talk about tolls though - for a roughly 260 mile drive to Paris, there are 26 Euros in tolls one way! (It's moves like that by the French that had Pete and I looking for some serious mime ass to kick as retribution. Mission accomplished.)

(As a side note, totally unrelated, I hate how the phrase "Mission Accomplished" is now forever ruined because of George Bush in a flight suit. Dumb.)

We arrived Friday night, parked on the outskirts of the city, took the metro into town, found our hotel, and had a few drinks. By the way, driving toward Paris is no big deal. Driving in Paris, however, is a different story. After our GPS went nuts and after several "Big Ben Parliament Kids" type experiences in under-construction roundabouts, I think we all recommend taking the train.

On Saturday we got up and headed to one of the Parisian museums (apparently they have a few). We went to the D'orsay museum first to look at some impressionist art (lots of Van Gogh, Monet, Stuparich, etc) and also some impressive sculpture, our tour of which included an impressive piece of Hercules in which he showed off his prowess with a bow and arrow and also his taint. Even Pete was impressed. Pics to follow in a future post.

Anyway good museum. Afterward we strolled around town, having a drink here, a crepe there, taking in the sights. Paris really does rock. We had dinner on the Montre Marte, a neighborhood north of the Seine up on a hill overlooking the city.

On Sunday Pete hired a walking guide right out of the Ric Steve's guide book which turned out to be a good move. The guy, named Arnauld, met us at 9 am and took us around for about four hours, explaining all sorts of stuff about the city, including the history of Paris and France. We went to an old chapel which used to store the thorny crown of Christ apparently, and had beautiful stained glass windows. Then we walked through various neighborhoods, seeing off the beaten path sites with full narration courtesy of our guide. After the tour we had lunch with this guy, who was a neat dude. He was thin and gesticulated a lot, and was clearly French, but seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. He speaks six languages. We talked about Franco-American relations, their hatred of our president, our hatred of their surrender mentality, etc. Even more fun was watching the guy wince in horror when Pete or I tried to pronounce any French word and ended up absolutely butchering it. That said, we had a good conversation, and the guy had a good sense of humor. Sometimes it seems like a lot of work to hire guides, but it always seems to pay off. Mental note for future trips.

After departing our guide, we made off toward the Eiffel Tower. By then it was starting to rain, but we snapped a few pics, like the one below, and then headed out.



Summer Movies

We are firmly entrenched in summertime again and that can only mean one thing - blockbuster season at the movies. For the most part, this doesn't mean a whole lot to me, and really hasn't since I was 18 or so. It's no secret that I'm a movie snob, and certainly the summer blockbuster is the antithesis of movie snobbery as I see it. Summer is the time of Michael Bay, Jerry Bruckheimer and monster explosions, and the time when most decent, hard-working movie snobs like myself go into hiding to await the Oscar Season's fall crop of dark, introspective films that normally feature things like moody hard-luck types staring out of a car window as they contemplate life for the fifteenth straight scene where nothing really happens. Yes, I prefer those films.

There is a corollary, however, to my standard take on the summer blockbuster season which, as it turns out, is also kind of an Achilles Heel of my movie snobbery.

The Comic Book Movie.

I could take or leave a thousand different action movies, cop movies, buddy cop movies, cops and robber movies, or other such generic schlock that typically make up the menu at the Summer Movie feast, but put a comic book character into a movie, tell me about it, and my eyebrows instantly pick up. I grew up loving comic books - still have several boxes full at the Stup compound as a matter of fact - and as a result there's some pre-teen/teenage part of my brain that still thirsts for that sort of entertainment. (Plus my head is still so full of useless knowledge from those things, I'd better be into them or all that is going to waste.) I like comic books, and I like Super Heroes, and even all these years later I still want to be pumped up by them. I want their movies to succeed. To me, their success, the character's appearance in a "good" movie, validates my childhood in some stupid way.

I will add that this notion applies to the entire genre of science fiction and to a smaller extent fantasy fiction as well. I like both genres, and though I think the typical film in those genres is mostly junk, the times when something really good happens along (Lord or the Rings, Matrix, etc.) simply blow me away. Those are my favorite trips to the movies.

One downside to this is that I become really invested when one of my childhood "favorites" gets put onto screen. I end up watching more like a nervous mother than an ardent fan. I sit in the theater, kneading my hands together, thinking please be good, please be good, and so on. There's two ways this can end. Spider-Man, as an example, got it right. Tobey Maguire did a bang-up job, I thought the tone was perfect, and I got chills a couple of times. Mission accomplished - at the end I wanted to shake Sam Raimi's (director) hand like a proud father would with the coach who helped his son really shine out there. Transformers, on the other hand, got it wrong. Very wrong. By the end of that movie, all I really wanted to do was punch Michael Bay in the face for degrading my favorite sentient alien machines of all time. I hate that guy like a father hates the idiot coach who benches or misplays his clearly talented son. So there it is. The stakes are higher when I really liked the character growing up. Right now, these are my children - and you better treat them right. (On a side note, I can't wait to be an overbearing and borderline obstrusive presence at every one of my children's sporting events!)


OK, got that out of the way. On to the meat of the post, which is basically just me commenting on the Summer movies I've seen so far (two of which happen to involve famous comic book characters).


Iron Man



I didn't really know what to expect going into this one. When I heard they were making it, I just sort of shrugged. Neat. I liked Iron Man. Went through a clear and distinct Iron Man phase in my comic life as a matter of fact. In my memory, Tony Stark was kind of like the Marvel version of Batman. Not a superhero by physical power, but dependent on technology. Only Tony Stark was an alcoholic in the comic books, with many a storyline centering on the "all this power but what about the demons within" sort of thing. Good comic, though.

But even despite my history with the character, I was still rather oblivious to whole film until it arrived. Then I heard it was getting over 90% on rottentomatoes.com. Over 90 percent! I thought that was impossible or the movie had to be Citizen Kane or something to achieve that high a score. I quickly became intrigued. If "most people" liked this comic book movie, then what would I think?

Well I'll you what I thought. I dragged Gwendolyn and we both really liked it. I thought Robert Downey Jr. was amazing. What a presence! Anyway, I thought the whole thing was really good. A nice modern take on the classic Iron Man story. The movie was funny - and at several parts laugh out loud funny. Most of that was all Downey Junior, but hey it was directed by Jon Favreau of Swinger's directorial fame so I'll give him some credit too.

The only thing I was underwhelmed with was the final battle. Could have been better, but still not bad. Overall a big thumbs up.

Verdict: Thumbs Up

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull



Oh sweet God no. George Lucas resurrecting classic characters and material, dusting if off, and giving it another go 20 years later? Where have I seen that go horribly wrong before? (Let's face it, the further out from those first two Star Wars prequels we get, the worse the whole thing seems. I thought I was past this, but clearly I'm not. Looks like it's back to therapy. Let's just move on.)

I won't belabor this one. I hated this movie. It was awful on just about every level, and it had no reason to be. I've ranted about it already (in a different forum), but as time goes by my two biggest disappointments remain the following:

-Harrison Ford mailing it in. It's like he wasn't even there. Sleepwalking through scenes, babbling his lines. It was just bad. At least in Temple of Doom, a movie I don't otherwise really care for, you still had Harrison Ford being Harrison Ford. The movie was silly, but there still some top notch scenes in there courtesy of Harrison Ford delivering the goods and bringing his A-game like you know he can. Not this time, though. Very disappointing.

-Steven Spielberg. Ugh. How could you Steven? I feel like I have two sons, one good-for-nothing troublemaker (George Lucas), and one sweet little angel who is one of the best kids in the world (Spielberg). And now I've gone and found out that it was Steven, not George as I had suspected, who wrecked the car (even though George was a passenger in the car). Sure George put Steven up to it, and this is the sort of thing you'd expect from George - you know breaking stuff and ruining things - but not my sweet little Stevie. This one hurts. Steven, you're better than this. Now go to your room and think about what you've done.

Verdict: Big Thumbs down

The Incredible Hulk




Here's the first thing to realize - I'm a Hulk fan. I'm not going to apologize for it. I like it when he gets big and green and starts laying the wood. I've heard that some people don't like it when he gets angry - but I do. I get totally pumped by it, in fact. Here's another thing to realize - I LIKED the first Hulk movie. That's right. Ang Lee's Hulk. Liked it. Maybe even really liked it. (I realize I'm one of like eight people nationwide who have this opinion, but the good news is that my boy George Mount is another one of those eight and if I'm not mistaken we saw it together in the theater and hi-fived on average once every three minutes, and once every ten seconds while Hulk was schooling those Hulk Dogs.) Sure it sort of derailed near the end, but I still think it was sweet.

(I just checked rotten tomatoes again, and actually the original Hulk sits at a 61% on the tomato meter, much higher than I thought it would have. Weird)

But what about this new Hulk? Loved it - that's what. I like Ed Norton to begin with, so that's a plus, and I really liked his cerebral Bruce Banner. The action scenes were solid, and this Hulk did a really good job of saluting the comic book and former TV show by fitting in all sorts of classic homages and doing it in a way that was actually pretty cool and stylish. The Hulk's moves in his big fights were straight out of the comic book. And, just like the first go around, I get pumped when Hulk gets mad and starts schooling peeps. And further still, unlike Iron Man, which still might be the overall superior movie, the big fight at the end was pretty solid. No complaints here.

Here's my quick take on who played the characters better between the two films:

Bruce Banner - Ed Norton (current Hulk)

Betty Ross - Um, Jennifer Connelly (original) (no contest here, not that Liv Tyler was bad - actually she was pretty solid - but dude it's Jennifer Connelly...)

General Ross - Sam Elliott (original) (no contest)

Hulk CGI - This one

Special Merit Award - Hulk Dogs (They rule. Well, until they run into the Hulk).

Final Verdict: HULK SMASH!


Hancock



Interesting little picture here and I'm not going to spend much time on it. Here's my take: It started out strong, I really liked where it was heading, and then I thought it derailed about half way through. Will Smith was good. Jason Bateman was really good. Charlize Theron was meh. I wasn't a huge fan of the generic super powers in the film - Will Smith is essentially like a drunken Superman with a 'tude. Anyway, I would still say it's worth a viewing. Not as good as Hulk or Iron Man - not even close for me - but certainly better than Indiana Jones. (If you haven't seen the new Indiana Jones yet, then simply tell yourself it's still a trilogy and this was all just a bad dream. Trust me.)

Verdict: Thumbs middle, trying to go up


Croatia Pics at Last

First, a milestone.

As of 30 June, 2008, I had exactly ONE year left in the military. That's it! As of now, it's more like 51 weeks. Let the countdown begin.

I've been busy the last two weeks. As a penalty for my early June vacations, I got blasted with call in the latter part of June through this weekend. I did a week of the wards - a busy week averaging 12-15 patients and constant turnover - and then followed it up with four straight nights over the holiday weekend. Boo. Luckily things trim down a little in terms of call after tonight (my last of the four). But man that was rough. The older I get, the more I hate night call. It's a young man's sport.


OK, I got a bunch of Croatia pics uploaded. Looking back on the pics was fun - man we had a blast. Something else I noticed? Eryn really, really out-jackassed me in these photos. Normally I take pride in being the resident jackass on trip photos. Well, E, hat's off - you schooled me this time out. At least I took the stupid game, which thankfully is not recorded. Maybe on Eryn's camera I out-jackassed him. We'll see when he posts his pics, I guess.

Until then, enjoy!


Croatia 2008