Getting in Touch With My Masculine Side

Despite the warm weather, telltale signs point out that fall is on its way-- the days are getting shorter, the neighborhood hooligans are back in school (finally!), and football fever is ravaging my home. Yes, football season is here, like it or not, and suddenly I find myself plunged into a world where I'm supposed to care deeply about a stranger's torn ACL (pop quiz: where is the ACL located?) and share the shame of a disgraced kicker who just missed the extra point. It's not that I don't like football-- I do and I actually know a lot about it (probably because of my time at USC). I just don't have the stamina to watch 10 hours of football in a day-- after a couple of hours, watching fat guys in spandex jump on each other seems a little lacking in entertainment value. I'll be honest-- my interest in football is focused mainly on the football snacks department. A football game is always a great excuse to eat chicken wings.

This weekend wasn't ALL football and no play, though. Friday night the Main Squeeze, the Third Man, and I went to see Shoot 'Em Up, and I'm pretty sure I was the only girl in the place. I hadn't seen a trailer before the movie, so I had no idea what I was getting into. I'm all for the cheesy action movie (seriously, if both Die Hard 3 and Speed are on TV at once, it's a gut-wrenching decision to make), but this was probably the most gratuitously violent movie I've ever seen. It probably should be shown with a body-count ticker at the bottom of the screen a la Hot Shots: Part Deux. The first person gets killed about 20 seconds into the movie, and then it's about 40 people per minute for the duration. The boys enjoyed it, but it was way too violent for me. The movie was strangely like a hopped-up-on-speed meathead remake of Children of Men. The basic plot is similar: moody Clive Owen protects an infant from gunmen. Only in this version, Clive "Could My Face Be More Chiseled?" Owen kills about 800 people, including a dude who gets stabbed in the eye by a carrot.

All this man stuff is making my inner romantic schoolgirl revolt-- I find myself wanting to take long, lingering walks in the park, speak French, and bake chocolate souffles. Even crazier, the other day I was enamored with the idea of embroidering a dresser scarf. Seriously, a dresser scarf?! But that's alright- I can be as girly as I want to during these last summer days. I'll have the whole winter to eat brats, wear sweatpants, and cheer for the Bears.