In America

I knew that I should avoid this movie from Mr. Jim Sheridan. From the first frame of the preview I started to tear up, like the baby I am. Marigold would look over and scream with laughter while pointing at my baby tears. So last night we rented it, and I fought the "deeply poignant" parts. I did inner battle with "mesmerizing performances." I chocked on popcorn, like a dozen toddlers without their dollies. Even though we were alone, Marigold pointed and laughed like a practiced schoolyard bully. It is good she is there to keep me real. Real wussy. Nobody likes a sensitive man. Even wittle baby girls can't respect that shit.