Category Archives: blog

Nowhere Fast

Oh man, I am so $!@%^&ing sore from doing the yard this weekend. I gave myself tendonitis in my right arm (yeah, the poison oak one…I swear, this arm is going to try and secede from the rest of my body) so it is swollen up to almost twice the size it normally is…I look like a freak, but in a good way.
In the continuing saga of writer-slash-actor: My manuscript is still with my editor. He’s given me some very useful notes already, and I’m hoping to have the whole thing back by the end of this week. Sadly, it will not be ready in time for Xmas. :(
On the actor side, I have an audition today for “The Polar Express,” which is being directed by Robert Zemeckis, and stars Tom Hanks.
Yeah, I’m thinking the same thing you are, “Tom Hanks and Robert Zemeckis? Why the hell are they asking to see me?!
I have no idea, but it should be an interesting experience…I haven’t auditioned for a major motion picture like this in quite some time.
Oh, and I have punk rock blue hair right now, because I figured there wouldn’t be any auditions until after the first of the year…uhh…oops.
The second shipmeent of 8x10s goes to the post office in about 30 minutes. If you ordered last week, you should get yours in a few days. I’ll get to work on the third shipment (orders received since Thursday) when I get back from my audition this afternoon, and they should all go out tomorrow or Wednesday.
UPDATE 3:53 PM PST: Well, I totally punted the audition. The pain in my body from the weekend is so severe (my arm is so messed up I can’t even grip my steering wheel in my car, and my back has been spasming all day long) that I just couldn’t focus, at all, and I sucked.
I saw the tests for the movie while I was there, and I’m pretty sure that I’m not allowed to talk about specifics, so I’ll just say: this will be an amazing and beautiful movie. What I saw was a perfect 3-D rendering of the art in the book.
When I left, I walked down the hallway with my head hung. I’m really sad, not because I’m missing out on a job, but because this movie is just going to be so beautiful, and so amazing, I really wanted to be part of it.

Sod the sodding sod

Back in spring, a pipe in our front yard’s sprinkler system burst. We tried to water the lawn by hand all summer, but we failed miserably and it died.
Long story short, we decided to put in new sprinklers and grass, and the whole process took the rest of summer, and all of autumn.
Yesterday, thanks to the the shockingly popular 8×10 sale, we finally laid down the sod, and turned our horribly ugly dirt lot into a beautiful front lawn.
Anne and I could never have done this on our own, and I want to publicly thank my friends and family who came over and spent their Saturday putting down almost 3,000 square feet of grass:

  • Darin. You arrived at 7AM, and stayed until the sun went down. In addition top helping out, you kept me calm, each time I was sure we were doing it wrong and everything would die.
  • Shane. Even though you had a wedding to attend in the afternoon, you came and helped. Your Cal Tech brain was most useful in ensuring we did our work as efficiently as possible. Good call on “The Buddy System.”
  • Jeremy. I didn’t know you had to work in the afternoon and evening, but you came and helped anyway. Thank you for making me laugh hard all day.
  • Jenn. I still can’t believe that you worked while we all ate lunch. You were the last person to leave, and you helped me clean up the driveway. Thank you.
  • Mom. Finally, you have first-hand experience being that “ditch digger” you always warned us against becoming when we were kids. 60 feet of trench is 59 feet more than I could have done on my own.
  • Michelle. The layer of sod, the leveler of ground, the bringer of Krispy Kremes.
  • BURNS! You helped us all morning and well into the afternoon, and then went and worked a long shift last night. You’re always there for us when we need help, except for that one time you forgot…but after yesterday, we’ll never speak of that time again.
  • Dad. I’m glad that you didn’t kill yourself surfing, and that you came all the way to our house from Rincon. The caution tape clearly and politely says, “Stay the fuck off my new lawn, you little creeps” to all passersby.

As I stood in my driveway last night, looking across my beautiful new lawn, I felt a pride in my house that I haven’t felt in over a year. It just looks beautiful, and we never could have done this without the help that you guys gave us…and that’s the best part of all of this, IMHO: you guys all gave up your Saturday to help us out, and you all worked harder than I ever expected. You guys are awesome.
Thank you.

We Close Our Eyes

We are in Santa Barbara. It is November, and Anne and I are here for our anniversary, walking back to our hotel after the first romantic dinner we’ve enjoyed in months.
Though it is Saturday night, this normally crowded street is nearly deserted, because it is pouring rain. A cold, relentless rain that soaks into my shoes and clings to my body. The cold cuts straight through me, numbing my hands and feet.
The few people who have chosen to brave the storm are huddled in doorways and under awnings. Anne and I share a too-small umbrella in a futile attempt to stay dry.
It has been a wonderful evening, ending a wonderful day. We haven’t gotten to spend much time just enjoying each other’s company, just being together for several weeks, and I am cherishing every rain-soaked moment.
The storm intensifies as we hurry back to our hotel, turning downspouts to waterfalls, and the street into a small stream. Normally, the urge to stomp in puddles is irresistible to me, but the numbness is creeping up my legs now, and I need little encouragement to leave the puddles alone.
After a few blocks, the cold and rain is too much for me, and I suggest that we stop, and hail a cab.
Anne stops, and looks at me, her blue eyes gleaming. She says they’re green, but they’re blue…I see them whenever my mind wanders, so I know.
She steps out of the small shelter our umbrella is providing, and stands unprotected in the rain.
“I want to walk in the rain!” She declares.
“But it’s 40 degrees!” I remind her, shivering. A few passersby look at us as if we’re having a fight, and I chuckle to myself. They couldn’t be more wrong.
“I don’t care,” she tells me, her hair falling down and clinging to the sides of her face, her jacket darkening as it absorbs the storm. “Someday, I’m going to want to walk in the cold rain, and feel it on my face, and I’m not going to be able to. So I’m going to do it now.”
She reaches out and touches my cheek, and pulls my face to her. She leans towards me, kisses my nose, and walks away, her face cast upwards, her palms turned up to receive the rain.
She stomps into a puddle, and turns around.
“C’mon, you weenie! Walk with me!”
She is so beautiful, so joyous. The storm threatens to draw a curtain of rain around her, obscuring her from my view. Though she is twenty feet from me, I can see her beaming and feel her joy. She positively loves this.
I watch her, happily standing in the rain. In this moment I know why I married her. I know why she is the other half of my heartbeat.
But it’s 40 degrees. There’s no way I’m giving up this umbrella.
I lean against the rain, and close the distance between us. When I draw near her, she reaches out and knocks the umbrella out of my hand.
As it falls to the ground, she takes me in her arms. She pulls me to her, and kisses me.
“I love you,” she says, rain dripping off her nose onto my face.
She does love me. It’s one thing to say it, and one thing to hear it, but it’s another thing to feel it.
“I love you too,” I reply.
We stand there in the rain for a moment, looking at each other. We are soaking wet, freezing cold, and desperately in love.

Scratch revisited.

So the poison oak I got while geocaching two weeks ago is finally on the way out, leaving behind some spectacular scarring on my arm.
The best thing? I was using this Caladryl lotion the last few days to really dry it up and stop the itching, which it did…unfortunately irritating the hell out of the rest of my skin, and causing a rash which itches just as badly as the poison oak ever did.
Adding insult to injury, my geocaching log notifier sent me a notice yesterday that someone logged the cache I was trying to find. I wonder if they got the bonus poison oak? =]
So I went to the doctor this morning, and he put me on prednisone for a week, and gave me an ointment to calm the rash.
Oy. Vey.
Put up the Christmas lights last night, and have a great story to go with it. Working on it now.
I think it’s going to be a really wonderful holiday season this year.
Very astute readers will notice that I’ve moved the sale info up to the top of the page, so I can keep writing and keep people informed about those exciting holiday gift opportunities. =]
I sent the first 30 8x10s this morning, to places like Austin, the UK, Germany, Puerto Rico, and the far off hamlet of Burbank!
I’m running out of Iron Maiden shots, but there are still Stand By Me and Red space Suit pictures left.
Oh, and if you haven’t seen the entire Special Edition of Fellowship of the Ring, you simply must get offline NOW and go watch it.

on being thankful

I really like Thanksgiving.
I love gathering with my family, spending the day with people I don’t get to see very often, and sitting down for a massive dinner that I didn’t have to cook.
Is there a better time for a List Of Seven?
Today, I am thankful for:

  1. Creative energy, used to bring Joy into the world.
  2. Seeing my cousin Dustin today.
  3. My invitation to the Cast and Crew screening of Trek X
  4. Finally looking back on my teenage years with more joy than regret.
  5. My wife cuddling me because she loves me…not because she’s trying to stay warm.
  6. Ferris, when she looks at me and says, “What?”
  7. I am thankful for this website, and the readers who have come together from around the world to share in my stupid life, riding the roller coaster of success and failure, triumph and despair. I know for a fact that I never would have grown from struggling actor-slash-has-been to aspiring writer-slash-actor.

Our extended Thought For Today comes from Bob in Iowa, Katie’s father:

What I Am Thankful For
I am thankful that my daughter’s surgery went smoothly and successfully. Her kidneys will not develop horrible problems later in life, and a small scar is indeed an easy price to pay for her health.
I am thankful for the skill of the pediatric urology surgeon and the team that worked on my daughter. Their skill has proved in her case, as in many others I’m sure, that disciplined modern medicine is something that we should all be glad for. I am thankful for whoever the person or team was that invented the careful system of moving around and passing instruments in the modern surgery room. I am thankful for whoever the person or team was that sterilizes those instruments at the University of Iowa Hospital, and indeed in all hospitals.
I am thankful that my daughter’s recovery has been as impressive as the surgery itself. She is home now, running around like a precocious 16-month-old should, and she will be able to enjoy a Thanksgiving Dinner with her family.
I am thankful that my daughter is running around like a precocious 16-month-old, and I will try to remember that the next time she gets into something that she knows she shouldn’t or knocks something over. I am thankful that she will continue to grow up healthy. I am thankful that I have a daughter.
I am thankful to Wil Wheaton, who responded to an email I wrote at a time when I was at my worst, my most desperate. That simple request, which was fulfilled despite Wil’s having absolutely no obligation to, lead to an outpouring of love that not only affected me very deeply and helped my daughter in a very real way, it seems to have affected everyone involved in some way.
I am thankful to the complete strangers who, upon reading the entry in Wil Wheaton’s blog, made a simple choice to take a moment from their day and send some love my daughter’s way. I swear to God that I felt it, and I believe in my heart that it helped both with the surgery and with the swift recovery. I just wish there was another word to describe a person whom I have never met besides “stranger”, because that name is so ill-fitting to the people who took the time to help my daughter.
But most of all, I am thankful that despite the horrible things that we see every day on television and read about every day in newspapers, there is enough love in the world to selflessly help a little girl in need of love, and that we really are a loving and caring race. More often than not, we seem to forget what we really are. I am thankful that this opportunity arose to remind us all.
Thank you all for your compassion and kindness. Katie is recovering wonderfully, and I don’t doubt for a second that all of your goodwill and love is a MAJOR reason for that. I really cannot thank any of you enough, other than to say, “Thank you.” May you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving surrounded by family and friends.
– Bob Roth, WWDN fan

Last Place You Look

It’s so windy here in Pasadena today, it’s snowing leaves. There is this large area of a hillside in Burbank where there was a massive fire a few months ago, and a huge cloud of dust hovers over it, like a sandstorm.
The Santa Ana Winds are in full effect, and my dry skin, nose and throat are a small price to pay for clear blue skies and warm temperatures in November.
So here’s something unexpected: I did a voice today on this new show for the Kids WB! The call came on Friday, and here’s the cool thing: the director, a wonderful woman named Andrea Romano, who has won seven emmy’s called my agent and requested me, based on my work with her last year on “The Zeta Project.”
I can’t say what voice I did, but I was told when I left today that they were so happy, I would probably be asked back to do the role again in the next thirteen episodes.
The episode I did was written by this really nice guy named Marv Wolfman, who co-created and wrote “Teen Titans” for sixteen years, created “Blade,” and was just an all-around cool guy. We spent some time geeking out about comic books today…it just killed me that he was referring to Alan Moore as “Alan.”
Animation is really fun, because it’s really quick work (usually less than 4 hours for an episode), and the people who do it are all really cool…but it’s also very hard to break into the animation world, because the community is extremely small, and very protective. Being asked by a very respected director to come back, based on her previous experience with me, is just HUGE, and it makes me feel really good, and it may signal my entry into the world of animation.
A few months ago, I made this major decision in my life: I would stop applying a singular focus to getting work as an actor. I would continue to accept auditions as they came along, but I wasn’t going to break my back, or sacrifice time with my friends and family to play Hollywood’s game.
Since I made that choice, stopped caring so much about acting, and started focusing on writing, and being a husband and father, I’ve gotten two jobs almost immediately.
So I guess I’m going to have to start calling myself “Writer-Slash-Actor.”
You’ll note that I did not say “Actor-Slash-Writer.” This is a very important distinction.


Ferris is playing this game:
1. She picks up the soggy remains of her rawhide bone, and drops it on the ground.
2. She backs up, tail wagging, and stares at it.
3. She growls at it, then lunges forward, picking it up as she runs around the living room.
4. She brings it to me, and drops it in my lap.
5. I say, “that’s really interesting, Ferris,” and drop it on the floor, where she picks it up, and takes it back to the middle of the room.
Then she goes and does the whole thing again.
See, Anne went up to Oregon this weekend, and the kids are with their dad, so it’s just me and Ferris hanging out. This is how we entertain ourselves in the absence of any real responsible people around.
It’s actually a good weekend for me to take a break, because I’ve been writing and re-writing pretty much non-stop since last Friday –dramatic pause– and I finished my first draft of my book on Thursday. It went off to my editor yesterday morning, and I’m anticipating doing some rewrites next week.
I’m really excited about it, and I hope to have a limited first printing ready in time for Xmas. I’ll post details when I get it all worked out.
The weekend so far:
I went with some friends to see Die Another Day last night at the Arclight. I’m not an action movie guy at all, but I love James Bond, and this is easily the best Bond picture I’ve seen in maybe five years, aside from some inexcusably terrible miniature and FX work, the script is fun, paying tribute to some of the my favorite Bond pictures.
This morning, I went on a hike with my brother and my friend Mykal. We were hoping to find the Dawn Mine Geocache, but we couldn’t even get on the right trail to the damn mine before we ran out of time and had to get back to the car. We went up to a beautiful waterfall, though.
Oh, and last week, when I took the kids to find the Geocache at Rubio? Yeah. I walked RIGHT. FUCKING. THROUGH. Poison oak. It is all over my right forearm, my left bicep, my forehead, on my left knee, my neck, and my right ankle. I think I qualify for some sort of “complete dumbass” award for not seeing it.
The really cool thing, though, is that I sort of look like one of those guys in “Scanners” right before they blow up. And kind of like pictures of the moon. And also sort of like an alligator…but a scary X-files mutant alligator from hell who shoots death beams out of his eyes and creeps out of your bathtub at night to suck your skin off, and sing Copacabana in your living room.
I read somewhere that massive itching can make one go a little batty…but I don’t believe it.

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?

“It’s 4:00 PM?! Holy shit! How did it get to be FOUR FREAKING IN THE AFTERNOON?!”
It’s 4:00 PM, and I only have thirty minutes before I have to leave. Anne will come home while I’m out, and I’ve been spending the last few hours cleaning the house, so she won’t walk into chaos when she arrives. It’s taken me longer than I intended, leaving me little time to iron my pants and my shirt.
I’m a ball of stress, because when I try to handle an iron, I may as well be using my feet. I’m a ball of stress because Ferris refuses to eat, and really wants to play with me while I’m adding wrinkles to my shirt. I’m a ball of stress because I’ve been invited to the formal dinner at Ruddock House, at Cal Tech, and I can’t pull myself together.
See, I desperately wish that I was a smarter, nerdier, more educated person than I am, and I’m about to go sit in a room full of people who know more about math, physics, engineering, and how to creatively blow things up than I ever will. So I am very nervous. I want to make a good impression, and I want to participate in the discussions intelligently. I also know that most of the room will be people who are at least familiar with Star Trek, if not full-on Trekkies, and it’s going to be really embarrassing when they realize that the smart kid from TV totally doesn’t rate.
So I’ve asked my friend Shane to come with me. He is a Cal Tech alum from 1992, and he lived in Ruddock House. I figure that if I clam up, he’ll help me feel comfortable, and draw attention away from what a lamer I am.
it’s 4:15, and my clothes are actually more wrinkled than they were when I started. For a brief moment, I wish polyester was back in fashion. This wish passes quickly as I remember what it felt like to actually wear polyester when I was a kid. I decide to kick Ferris out of the room, and focus, dammit.
I get the wrinkles out of my shirt, and hang it up, expecting it to fall onto the floor. Thankfully, it does not. Ferris has parked herself outside my bedroom door, and is sniffing at the space between it and the floor.
It’s 4:25, and my pants are looking good, but the area near the pockets is giving me trouble, so I add water to the iron, hoping for steam.
What I get is a puddle on my pants.
The door begins to breathe.
I shake off the pants, and press the iron into the puddle, turning it mostly to steam. I hope it will dry before I get to Tech.
The doorbell rings. It’s 4:30. I let Shane in, and while he entertains Ferris, I choose a tie. I wonder if I should go for my Star Wars tie, or my Where’s Waldo tie. I hold them both up, and decide that I’ll go for a much more conservative tie, which I call my “1950’s Science Teacher Tie.”
Shane changes into a shirt and Looney Tunes tie, and we’re ready to go. I sure hope my pants dry.
We make the short drive to Tech, listening to Boingo Alive, catching up. I don’t get to see Shane at all these days, as a consequence of our schedules and stuff, so it’s nice to get a few minutes to talk about what we’re doing, and how our lives are. I don’t tell him how nervous I am, and if he notices, he doesn’t ask.
We arrive at Tech, and make our way into Ruddock. We find Abe, who has invited us to dinner.
Abe and his roommates are dressed casually, sitting in their room. Shane and I realize that we’re an hour early.
Oh jeeze. At least my pants are dry.
I don’t’ want to make this guy entertain me for a whole hour, so I tell Shane to take me around the campus. I haven’t seen it in over 10 years, so it will be fun. We tell Abe that we’ll catch up with him in the dining room at 6, and head out.
Shane gives me a very nice 25 cent tour, and I wistfully long to be in college, when the primary cares in the world are getting good grades and hooking up with a DG on the weekend. I think about how much there is for me to learn, how much there is for me to understand. I think about how much knowledge I don’t have to pass on to my step-kids. I envy the people on the other side of the walls, as we walk past the various residence halls.
Thirty minutes later, we’ve circumnavigated the entire campus, and we’re back in the dining hall. Fifteen minutes later, and the residents begin filing in.
I talk with many of them, answering questions about Star Trek and my website. I find out that Abe is one of the editors of a humor publication for Ruddock House called The BFD, so we talk about satire and comedy. Shane sees people he graduated with, and he slips through the crowd to go talk to them, leaving me. I look inward, expecting to find panic…they’re going to realize that I’m not cool, I think…but the panic isn’t there. Though I’m not nearly as smart as these people, I’m amongst friends. I am amongst people of a similar mind, and I feel welcome and at home.
We joke about nerdy things, though I quickly become aware of the difference in our ages. I’m much older than these guys, so some of my nerdy references sail over their heads — not because they’re dense, but because I’m talking about something that happened before they were born.
Dinner is served, and we take our seats. I really enjoy the company of the people I’m sitting near, and the meal is excellent. The time flies by too quickly, and dinner is finished.
The president of Ruddock stands up and says that there are several guests tonight, and now is the time for them to be introduced.
A student at the end of our table stands, and introduces his guests, and the student sitting across from him does the same. I begin to get nervous, knowing that I’m going to be standing up in front of all these people in less than a minute. I close my mouth and run my tongue across my teeth, hoping that my Standard Issue British Teeth haven’t snagged any food for later. Finding none, I turn my attention back to the students who are now standing across from us. It’s the Ruddock librarian, a very nice, mirthful young man who was introduced to me earlier in the evening as “The Biggest Star Trek Fan Of All Time.” He stands, and announces to the dining room, “Hi. My name is Wil Wheaton…”
There is much laughter, and I shout out, “I hated you on Star Trek!!”
There is even more laughter. I allow myself to smile…that was pretty funny.
It is Abe’s turn to introduce me, and I stand up.
“This is Wil Wheaton,” he says. There is applause and some whistling. I feel really embarrassed and self conscious. It’s really strange to me to feel this way, but it happens every time I’m the focus of people’s attention and I’m not on stage. I manage to wave at them all, and say “Thank you,” before settling back into my seat.
The rest of the introductions are made, as well as some announcements, and the dinner is done.
I could hang out all night with these people, talking about Lord of the Rings and The Simpsons, but Shane has to teach a class early in the morning, so we must leave.
As we’re on our way out, a guy asks me if I’ll participate in the good-natured teasing of their RA, a very pretty girl who, he tells me, had a big crush on my when she was young. I ask him what he has in mind. He tells me that I should go up to her, and kiss her hand. I decline, because it seems a bit presumptuous, and I suggest he think of something else while I sign the Ruddock guest book.
When I return, he has a devilish idea: I should walk over to her, and tell her that I’m a big fan of hers. I agree.
I walk across the room, and she looks up. I guess the group of guys is following me, because she blushes, and proceeds to describe to them the various ways she’s going to dismember them.
“Can I shake your hand?” I ask her, taking her hand in mine. “When I was a kid, I subscribed to Hot RA Magazine just so I could have your pictures on my wall!”
She laughs, I laugh, and the guys laugh. She describes further acts of torture they’ll be enduring, as I produce my camera from my pocket. I ask her if she’ll pose for a picture with me, and she agrees. We snap the photo, and then it’s my turn to pose with some people for a few others.
We thank Abe for the invite, and he tells us that we can come back for a non-formal dinner any time.
I can’t wait to go back and enjoy their company again. The genuine kinship these people seem to have is warm and wonderful. I hope they realize how lucky they are, and don’t take this time for granted.
I certainly didn’t.


I’m beginning to think that I am the world’s worst Geocacher, man. I’ve gotten to enjoy many nice hikes, which is really cool, but I rarely find the cache, and today was no exception.
After breakfast this morning (made by yours truly for the family while the wife slept in, thankyouverymuch) we took the kids to find the Rubio Haunted Area, but after 40 minutes of searching an area of about 40 square feet, we gave up. We did get to see a deer climbing up the mountain, though, which was really cool.
Been listening to the Oingo Boingo Farewell Concert while I’ve been home today. Boingo is one of those bands which for whatever reason is only associated with positive memories:

  • Gates McFadden dancing around to “Elevator Man,” way back when we were on TNG.
  • Darin and me cranking Boingo Alive while driving down to Disneyland on one of our numerous Annual pass holder’s trips during high school.
  • Going to a Laserium show at the Griffith Observatory to see the KROQ show in 10th grade, which was my first introduction to “Grey Matter.”

Actually, I do have one sad memory associated with Boingo: The Boi~ngo CD was one of my favorites back in the day, and it’s nowhere to be found in my collection. Sadly, it’s out of print, so I’m reduced to digging through the bargain bin at the Car Wash in hopes of finding one amongst all the Bob Goldthwait comedy albums. Oh, and their official website seems to be down.
So that’s two things.
But I saw a deer today. (ECHO $LAME_STAND_BY_ME_JOKE)
UPDATE: 10PM PST: Thank you to all the people who emailed me about picking up Boi~ngo on eBay, or! I spoke with my best friend Darin, and he has a copy of thhe CD that we used to listen to at his house! I’m picking up a copy from him tomorrow. (That’s ethical, right? I bought the CD once, and it got lost, and it’s out of print anyhow…so getting a copy…that’s cool, right? Maybe I’ll “bid” on it from him.) =]


Took the day off today, and went on a long walk with Anne.
She pointed out that November is her favorite month, and it was easy to see why, with the sun warming our shoulders, as we walked beneath the bluest blue sky I’ve seen over Pasadena in years.
As we walked down Colorado Boulevard, in and out of the cool shadows cast by stores and the occasional tree, we hit upon a wonderful, awful, Grinchy idea: We’d walk quickly to a movie theatre, buy tickets for the next showing of Harry Potter, and we’d race ourselves home, manufacture a reason to snatch the boys from school, and take them to the movies.
It was brilliant. We hit the theatre at 11, bought tickets for the 12:30 show, and had time to grab a bagel before we made it back home. We took the kids out of school for “personal reasons” and settled into our seats with time to spare.
Now, I don’t go to the movies too often. It just strikes me as stupid to pay money to listen to other people talk on their phones and smack gaping mouthfuls of popcorn while slurping the last drops of Coke out of their super-sized drink cups.
I don’t know why people can’t stay quiet, and respectful of their fellow audience members for a few short hours. I suppose they feel that their ticket entitles them to behave however they’d like, so I usually stay home, and spare myself the aggravation.
Well, if you were in the 12:30 show today, I’d just like to say, as a member of the audience: WOULD. YOU. PLEASE. SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP! Talk in your home, talk in your car. Talk anywhere, really, but shut the fuck up when you’re in the theatre.
Sorry. A teeny bit of pent-up aggression there. =]
The movie was entertaining, though I didn’t enjoy it as much as the first one, which I watched in silence in my own house. I haven’t read the books, but Ryan has, and he told us that the film was a more-or-less faithful adaptation. I think it could have been about 30 minutes shorter, but I also think the theater could have been about 30 times quieter.
It was worth it, though, because the kids had an amazing time. We ensured that they wouldn’t be missing anything vital in school, and I think we helped create a fond memory today.
Thought for today:

“Not all those who wander are lost.”