Wasted Days and Wasted Nights
Last night as I was watching the Atlanta Braves take on the hated New York Mets – a pitching duel between Tim Hudson of the Braves and former Brave and now turncoat, Tom Glavine – I decided to check out the movie line-up on the Charter movie channels. I saw that at 9 PM Under the Tuscan Sun was scheduled to run on some channel. I had never seen the movie and had heard it was a good one to watch, so I set the reminder button to, well, remind me. Normally I would watch the game to its conclusion, but the Braves were behind and Glavine’s stuff seemed good, so I thought, “Why waste good time and get an attitude and suffer the agony of defeat - all in one evening?”
At the appointed hour, I changed channels and settled in to watch the movie. Lo and behold, one of the first scenes was the heroine, called Francesca later by her Italiano friends, in the office of her attorney. This attorney was handling and breaking to her the bad news of her divorce. I am not sure who he represented. It surely was not “Francesca” who had been married to a low-rent, sponging piece of manhood. The slime-ball attorney’s best advice was, in essence, to give the sleazebag husband pretty much everything. After watching that scene, my anger level started rising and I was ready to do some serious damage to the riff-raff of the world. You’d better be glad you weren’t around to hear the rant and feel the wrath. It was enough to make a single man want to stay single. What am I saying; I am single! Oh, the pain!
Soon our heroine is having dinner with her two friends. I think, “That’s nice; two good friends to help her through the divorce and to offer advice on how to exterminate the sleazeball attorney.” The Asian friend divulges the good news that she is pregnant. But guess who the proud “papa” is going to be! Why it’s the other good friend sitting right next to her! A lesbo couple.
Hmmm. This movie is not exactly going where I thought it would. I had visions of Italy, Tuscan region, olive trees, pasta and wine. Romance. Beautiful music. Lovely gardens. Me off in dream world of Tuscany. You know how it is. If you don’t have a life, then you want to be a voyeur towards someone who does. Just some chance to grab a few moments of stolen bliss surreptitiously.
Now, Francesca’s lovely lesbo friends will have nothing but have her take their place on a “gay” tour of Tuscany. Once the bus pulls out, oh joy, it’s flamer time. And I am still watching the movie. Yes, hope springs eternal. I still want to see lovely villas and flowering gardens, hear the music, smell the grapes and the Tuscan countryside. Maybe even see some great cinematography with sunlight making everything glow with a yellow and orange hue.
Thankfully, she leaves the “homo” boys (and girls) behind and purchases a run-down villa. Now, we’re getting somewhere. All that other stuff was for the multicultural crowd. Maybe the producers were thinking of having a good run in old Sodom and Gomorrah.
But, alas, the remaining scenes were not much better. They were just made for the heterosexually lustful. Not that I have never had any thoughts in that direction, but under the present vow of chastity, it is best not to sidle down certain roads. So she has a romp with an Italian heartthrob; gets her heart broken. Her new friend – an aging and former beauty – loses her young lover. And the Asian lesbian dike from home lands on her step great with child because “papa” didn’t want to be a “Mommy” or something like that.
Well, so much for Under the Tuscan Sun. Another dream shattered. You would have thought my lovely daughters who had seen the movie would have said, “Dad, you may not like the movie. You really are not into despicable lawyers, flamers, lesbos, and hot Italian guys.” They could have been there for me, but, no, they decided to let me ignorantly think that watching this movie would be a great way to spend my evening. This was like several years ago when I decided to read a Nicholas Sparks’ book I had not read. I know you guy readers have no clue, but some of us more “sensitive” types actually enjoy reading Nicholas Sparks’ books. He once lived in Greenville County and if you want to get in touch with your female better half, you had better read some of his books. I have never read any man who had such a command of female emotions. Well, anyway, I decided I needed to read Message in a Bottle. Wow! Was that a mistake! I cried like a baby. I guess it was therapy, but no one who has lost a mate needs to read that book unless you are a glutton for chest-wracking sobbing!
Meanwhile back on Fox Sports, Glavine exited the game, rookie Ryan Langerhans gets a clutch hit in the bottom of the ninth to tie the game, and then another clutch hit in the bottom of the tenth to win it.
Wasted days and wasted nights. Sadly I have been too long Under the Tuscan Sun.
At the appointed hour, I changed channels and settled in to watch the movie. Lo and behold, one of the first scenes was the heroine, called Francesca later by her Italiano friends, in the office of her attorney. This attorney was handling and breaking to her the bad news of her divorce. I am not sure who he represented. It surely was not “Francesca” who had been married to a low-rent, sponging piece of manhood. The slime-ball attorney’s best advice was, in essence, to give the sleazebag husband pretty much everything. After watching that scene, my anger level started rising and I was ready to do some serious damage to the riff-raff of the world. You’d better be glad you weren’t around to hear the rant and feel the wrath. It was enough to make a single man want to stay single. What am I saying; I am single! Oh, the pain!
Soon our heroine is having dinner with her two friends. I think, “That’s nice; two good friends to help her through the divorce and to offer advice on how to exterminate the sleazeball attorney.” The Asian friend divulges the good news that she is pregnant. But guess who the proud “papa” is going to be! Why it’s the other good friend sitting right next to her! A lesbo couple.
Hmmm. This movie is not exactly going where I thought it would. I had visions of Italy, Tuscan region, olive trees, pasta and wine. Romance. Beautiful music. Lovely gardens. Me off in dream world of Tuscany. You know how it is. If you don’t have a life, then you want to be a voyeur towards someone who does. Just some chance to grab a few moments of stolen bliss surreptitiously.
Now, Francesca’s lovely lesbo friends will have nothing but have her take their place on a “gay” tour of Tuscany. Once the bus pulls out, oh joy, it’s flamer time. And I am still watching the movie. Yes, hope springs eternal. I still want to see lovely villas and flowering gardens, hear the music, smell the grapes and the Tuscan countryside. Maybe even see some great cinematography with sunlight making everything glow with a yellow and orange hue.
Thankfully, she leaves the “homo” boys (and girls) behind and purchases a run-down villa. Now, we’re getting somewhere. All that other stuff was for the multicultural crowd. Maybe the producers were thinking of having a good run in old Sodom and Gomorrah.
But, alas, the remaining scenes were not much better. They were just made for the heterosexually lustful. Not that I have never had any thoughts in that direction, but under the present vow of chastity, it is best not to sidle down certain roads. So she has a romp with an Italian heartthrob; gets her heart broken. Her new friend – an aging and former beauty – loses her young lover. And the Asian lesbian dike from home lands on her step great with child because “papa” didn’t want to be a “Mommy” or something like that.
Well, so much for Under the Tuscan Sun. Another dream shattered. You would have thought my lovely daughters who had seen the movie would have said, “Dad, you may not like the movie. You really are not into despicable lawyers, flamers, lesbos, and hot Italian guys.” They could have been there for me, but, no, they decided to let me ignorantly think that watching this movie would be a great way to spend my evening. This was like several years ago when I decided to read a Nicholas Sparks’ book I had not read. I know you guy readers have no clue, but some of us more “sensitive” types actually enjoy reading Nicholas Sparks’ books. He once lived in Greenville County and if you want to get in touch with your female better half, you had better read some of his books. I have never read any man who had such a command of female emotions. Well, anyway, I decided I needed to read Message in a Bottle. Wow! Was that a mistake! I cried like a baby. I guess it was therapy, but no one who has lost a mate needs to read that book unless you are a glutton for chest-wracking sobbing!
Meanwhile back on Fox Sports, Glavine exited the game, rookie Ryan Langerhans gets a clutch hit in the bottom of the ninth to tie the game, and then another clutch hit in the bottom of the tenth to win it.
Wasted days and wasted nights. Sadly I have been too long Under the Tuscan Sun.
posted by Manuel at 5:07 PM
7 Comments:
I have been told that I've been too far into the "Man Of Velvet" and need to show more of the "Man Of Steel." Perhaps this explains the subconscious desire for the TMan, Superman Blog identity? So I must pass on Nicholas Sparks at this time. Any good Psychology, self-analysis books?
Daughters are good at setting up Dads. I'm still learning lessons in that department. As far as being single, I want to see you shake that bootie or whatever it is you do and let these women see what they're missing. The Feast is just around the corner and singles' events are the key to happiness.....hopefully. Ya' think?
Oh, I think the ladies always appreciate "the velvet" - or the Nicholas Sparks touch. His books are actually very good.
One good self-analysis book is The Personality Self-Portrait. There is an inventory that you take and then chapters devoted to dominant personality characteristics. I really think this book is good for all to use and is especially helpful for married couples and those thinking about getting married.
As far as being single, there comes a point in life that you have to accept that some things are not meant to be. You may not like it, but there is no need kicking against the pricks. Que sera, sera.
Yeah, I know what you mean. I've had to kick a few pricks in the past. lol Anyway, that book sounds interesting, but will I like what I find. Sometimes ignorance is bliss.....to me, not those around me though.
DAD! UPDATE YOUR BLOG!
From Aaron, "tell your dad he needs to update his blog. I need to read his rantings rather than coming up with my own."
Well... Even though Summer is forwarding my messages along, I feel compelled to voice my concerns myself and INSIST that you update your blog, Mr. Burdette.... with all due respect, of course... :)
I am embarrassed. I did not see all the comments to this post. I did have some ideas for a post or two and was actually working on one, but nothing materialized. Unlike my gifted three offspring, writing is usually a struggle for me. And I DO NOT type.
Barbara, I think those two books - and the current one - are the only Sparks' books that I have not read. I need to catch up.
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