The hiccups are the worst thing ever. Do you get ’em loud? I get ’em loud. And they’re annoying. No amount of Bananarama can cure that. I only mention that because I’m watching The Karate Kid right now and “Cruel Summer” is playing. And I’m still hiccuping! No use, girls!
So I know I promised you a Crank 2 review. And it’s coming. At some point. Let me tell you, the internet at my current digs is lacking. As is the phone connection. AT&T says it covers 97% of the country or some such bullshit and I happen to be stuck out in the 3% with William Zabka. And not even the Zabka of Just One of the Guys which I missed earlier, and I dislike missing out on Joyce Hyser’s chest.
How do you guys like the shit so far? Digging the letters? The musings about various Donald P. Bellisario shows, such as they are? I mean, how many other CHUD blogs offer a passing Airwolf mention? That’s what I thought.
So what’s going on in the life of Coombs, you wonder? Well, I’m still painting my uncle’s lakehouse. It’s a slow-going, but worthwhile process. It enables my drinking, at least. That might not be a good thing, but right now I’m in no mood to argue. Too many margaritas. At least six. And some beers. And maybe a little Abisinthe. Not the good stuff. Not the real stuff. But enough to make me forget my troubles.
And you know what great troubles I have? I just drunkenly messaged somebody I shouldn’t have. People who shouldn’t know things, but now might. This can end very badly. But I feel good about it. Because drunks deal with extremes. The good or the bad. My best friend. My only friend. And sometimes you wonder. Other times you act.
Man Elizabeth Shue’s friend in this movie is a bitch, huh?