I’m Sticking to Reading

It’s hot and it’s sticky. I mean that literally. We’re sticking to our leather furniture. It doesn’t happen that often in the Bay Area, which is why nobody has air-conditioning. You don’t need it. Unless, of course, it’s 90 degrees.

On Wednesday, we ate dinner on the deck, catching a tepid breeze while fending off flies. Then we went inside and poured ourselves onto the afore-mentioned leather sofa and recliner.

Halfway through American Idol, I peeled myself off the couch (again, literally) and declared “Let’s go to the movies.”

“What?” Keeper Husband gasped in disbelief. “We’re just about to find out who is on their way to superstardom.”

“We know it’ll be somebody named David. I don’t really care. It’s too hot.” I said.

Keeper suggested a compromise. If I let him watch this episode of the reality show that he schedules his life around, he would take me to the movies the next night. I could see that he had already registered the lack of Thursday night options since the end of Survivor: Micronesia.

“It’s a deal,” I said, shuffling off to sit in front of the fan in my office. I went online to pick out a flick to look at while we sat in air-conditioned comfort.

This being the start of the summer season, the time when movie studios release their blockbusters, I found little to interest adults.

The most online hype was devoted was Speed Racer, a big-screen re-make of an animated phenomenon from the 1960s. I wasn’t interested in the original when I was a kid, and I’m not interested now. In fact, I’m slightly miffed that the sensitive lead actor from “Into the Wild” would take on such a one-dimensional role. How challenging is it to play a cartoon character?

I didn’t bother to ask Keeper his opinion, as he would undoubtedly start a round of our favorite game, “How Much Would You Charge to Sit Through That Movie?” We play this game to amuse ourselves during the previews. If there is a trailer for something particularly inane and juvenile –say a movie that is really a cartoon—our price goes up in million dollar increments.

That night, however, the heat had made me cranky and I wasn’t in the mood to play. I wanted to make some plans to get out of our residential sweatbox and into the Cineplex.

I searched on. I passed by the latest “Narnia” movie – we don’t have any grandchildren to take with us—and took a brief look at “Iron Man” because I like Robert Downy, Jr., and it was rated “Must Go!” The reviews of this latest “Marvel Comic hero come to life” vehicle were full of superlatives, except for one guy who said, “I think that the powers that be focus so much on making sure a certain demographic is covered, that mature story lines are almost non-existent in today’s movies.”

To which I say, “Right on, Grandpa!”

As long as the studios continue to discriminate against writers over 30, this is what we’ll see at the Cineplex: movies adapted from cartons, comic books, video games, old TV series (“Get Smart”) and Rambo XX11.

Here’s the kicker. WE were the ones who coined the phrase, “Don’t trust anyone over 30.” Darned if that didn’t come back to bite us. It’s enough to make me want to paste myself on the couch and read a book.