Sim1Never Listen to the People You Work With
May 14th 2010 21:59
How are you, dear readers? Are you well?
Today, I bring you a work-related anecdote. But don’t worry, I will have a quick bitch about a movie also.
I work in a fabulous team of five gorgeous people. There’s Nick, the 40-year old football fanatic who has yet to grasp the concept of growing up. There’s Don, the 40-something who quite happily and openly perves at all the girls in the office and in the process forgets that it's his round to make the tea. Then there’s Jack who is so high on life, life should be a classified, illegal, class A substance and there’s Aaron, he who is overly business-like one minute and comes out with statements like 'I live in Questionable Quiche’ the next. (You had to be there). And then there’s me- Miss Fish on Film.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my four boys, I could not wish for a better team to work with. So amongst their usual lunchtime chats (‘There is no way Fulham will beat us!’, ‘She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s starring in my next wank.’, ‘My money is on McLaren.’) they have been discussing the hangover. The movie, that is. Over the past few weeks, this piece of cinema has come up in conversation again and again. Often, they will sit there, recall a particular scene and then giggle to themselves like people who belong into a home for the feeble-minded. But at least, they are talking about one of my favourite subjects: films.
I had not seen the movie, because I always had a distinct feeling that it would be a typical stupid boys’ film. You know the type, like ‘Dude, Where’s My Car’. Which I haven’t actually seen, but the stupidness virtually drips from the poster, the title, the actors. I figured that ‘The Hangover’ would be no different and you’d probably have to be a boy to find it funny.
I have lost count how many times I have asked the four of them whether ‘The Hangover’ is a stupid boys’ movie and how many times they have assured me that it is nothing like that and I have to see it.
So I went out and bought the DVD. That’s how much I love my boys. Although I still erred on the safe side and got it in the sale, rather than paying full price for it.
I am not quite sure what I was expecting, but of course, 'The Hangover' is exactly that: a stupid boys’ movie. It has tigers in bathrooms, chickens in hotel suites and gay Asians in white vans in it. All the things you find funny if you are a guy. Sigh.
I am sure I could have watched a lot worse, and ‘The Hangover’ did mildly amuse me on a boring Friday night, when my brain was addled by Marlborough Sauv Blanc, but I doubt it will go down in movie history or win Oscar’s. The plot is not even worth mentioning, but to stick with the film review protocol, here goes: Four guys go on stag night (bucks’ night, for you lovely Australians) in Las Vegas. They get so mangled, they can’t remember a thing about the night before and so they try piecing together the events. The End. Oh, and insert all the obvious jokes. You know; the naff, sexual ones. Strippers, drunken marriages, gay Asians in white vans....you get the idea.
I must say though, I did like the bit at the end where they find their camera and look through the pictures of that fateful night. I dare say, most of those pics can be found on my Facebook profile somewhere. With me in them.
Tip of the Day for you, my dear female readers: Should your boyfriend/ brother/ husband/ work colleague/ father/ grandfather/ uncle/ other unidentified male suggest you watch this average offering with him, indulge him and feast your eyes on the delicious Bradley Cooper.
But whatever you do, do not take film advice from your colleagues.
Today, I bring you a work-related anecdote. But don’t worry, I will have a quick bitch about a movie also.
I work in a fabulous team of five gorgeous people. There’s Nick, the 40-year old football fanatic who has yet to grasp the concept of growing up. There’s Don, the 40-something who quite happily and openly perves at all the girls in the office and in the process forgets that it's his round to make the tea. Then there’s Jack who is so high on life, life should be a classified, illegal, class A substance and there’s Aaron, he who is overly business-like one minute and comes out with statements like 'I live in Questionable Quiche’ the next. (You had to be there). And then there’s me- Miss Fish on Film.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my four boys, I could not wish for a better team to work with. So amongst their usual lunchtime chats (‘There is no way Fulham will beat us!’, ‘She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s starring in my next wank.’, ‘My money is on McLaren.’) they have been discussing the hangover. The movie, that is. Over the past few weeks, this piece of cinema has come up in conversation again and again. Often, they will sit there, recall a particular scene and then giggle to themselves like people who belong into a home for the feeble-minded. But at least, they are talking about one of my favourite subjects: films.
I had not seen the movie, because I always had a distinct feeling that it would be a typical stupid boys’ film. You know the type, like ‘Dude, Where’s My Car’. Which I haven’t actually seen, but the stupidness virtually drips from the poster, the title, the actors. I figured that ‘The Hangover’ would be no different and you’d probably have to be a boy to find it funny.
So I went out and bought the DVD. That’s how much I love my boys. Although I still erred on the safe side and got it in the sale, rather than paying full price for it.
I am not quite sure what I was expecting, but of course, 'The Hangover' is exactly that: a stupid boys’ movie. It has tigers in bathrooms, chickens in hotel suites and gay Asians in white vans in it. All the things you find funny if you are a guy. Sigh.
I am sure I could have watched a lot worse, and ‘The Hangover’ did mildly amuse me on a boring Friday night, when my brain was addled by Marlborough Sauv Blanc, but I doubt it will go down in movie history or win Oscar’s. The plot is not even worth mentioning, but to stick with the film review protocol, here goes: Four guys go on stag night (bucks’ night, for you lovely Australians) in Las Vegas. They get so mangled, they can’t remember a thing about the night before and so they try piecing together the events. The End. Oh, and insert all the obvious jokes. You know; the naff, sexual ones. Strippers, drunken marriages, gay Asians in white vans....you get the idea.
I must say though, I did like the bit at the end where they find their camera and look through the pictures of that fateful night. I dare say, most of those pics can be found on my Facebook profile somewhere. With me in them.
Tip of the Day for you, my dear female readers: Should your boyfriend/ brother/ husband/ work colleague/ father/ grandfather/ uncle/ other unidentified male suggest you watch this average offering with him, indulge him and feast your eyes on the delicious Bradley Cooper.
But whatever you do, do not take film advice from your colleagues.
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