That Ol' Mexicali Jambone

Some months ago, Christina and I were discussing movies we watched obsessively as children.
Eventually, the movie Cyborg (starring Jean Claude Van Damme, henceforth known as JCVD or Jesus Christ! Venereal Disease!) came up.
Apparently, her and her brothers would watch it over and over, and it was awesome.
I told her that, when I was younger, my best friend Simrall and I would constantly watch JCVD movies, specifically, Double Impact, the movie in which JCVD stars opposite JCVD (twins separated at birth) and they work together to kick some ass and talk funny.
So, we made a deal.
We watch Cyborg and then Double Impact.
But.
After watching Cyborg, life just..got in the way, and she never held up her end of the bargain to sit down and watch Double Impact.
A quick aside: neither of us was under the impression that these movies would hold up or even be watchable, understand? So there was an element of "why are we doing this to ourselves" to this whole thing.
Fast forward a few months to Chris waxing nostalgic about watching another movie endlessly with her brothers, namely, Best of the Best, starring Eric Roberts' hair and, for some odd reason, James Earl Jones (and Nice Guy Eddie from Reservoir Dogs...what?).
I say that I'll gladly watch this but only if we watch BOTH Double Impact and Double Team, the movie in which JCVD teams up with, you guessed it,* Dennis Rodman, the gay basketball player who married Madonna thinking she was a rich man.
Why would I ever even know about this utter piece of shit, let alone want to watch it?
Because there is an element of punishment to this: we watched HER movie almost immediately after the deal was sealed and then didn't want mine until just last weekend.
Oh, and I know about this because my old friend, Angela, had a major boner for Dennis Rodman and wanted to see him with his shirt off so we saw it in theaters.
Anyway, all this to say that on Sunday, Chris and I watched Best of the Best and Double lmpact back to back.

Best of the Best had some amazing hair, surprisingly good dialogue, the worst music I've head in a movie in a while, and a bunch of unanswered questions such as: how is James Earl Jones (who didn't throw a punch once in the film) the coach of the United States Karate Team (which isn't a thing), why would one of the five "best of the best" be a forty something year old assembly line worker with an injured shoulder and another of the "best of the best" be a dirty fighting, overweight racist with, based on his performance, no formal training in anything more Eastern than eating Chinese food?
But, to think more on these questions and their unattainable answers would cause brain death, so let's move on to Double Impact.

You guys...this movie was a whole lot better than either Chris or I could have hoped for.
JCVD plays Chad AND! Alex, one was raised in L.A. and teaches yoga and likes pastels and is maybe six inches from being gay, while the other grew up in Hong Kong (another aside: "Hong" shows up in spell check, but not "Kong". Do we have a huge ape to thank for this?) and wears leather and smokes cigars and is mean. You actually get to see JCVD acting, and, like I said, it's actually pretty good.
That man is ripped in a way that makes men uncomfortable.
The bad guys die, the good guys don't, and, of course, JCVD fights JCVD.
JCVD wins...and so does the viewer.

Double Team arrives tonight from Netflix and everything will go downhill from there.

And before this magical day with my Beloved, I had a small group of REAL friends over to watch one of my favorite movies ever (Clue: The Movie, which, by the by, still, not only holds up, but standing highest among those in its genre) and (fucking finally) crack open my copy of Cards Against Humanity.
The wait was completely worth it.
I'm not going to try to explain its glory, I will just say this: if you love Apples to Apples and always give the green card to the person with the darkest, most fucked up noun/adjective combo, then this game was, literally, made with you in mind.
I will never play Apples to Apples in my home again unless it's with total strangers...and even then I may go with CAH, just to see what happens.
It's never felt so good to be horrible.

I believe this weekend is reserved for quiet reflection before Chris and I go to fucking Alaska for her fucking brother's beautiful fucking wedding.
It's going to be fucking magical, but, obviously, I'm complaining because I can't not.
I CAN'T NOT.
How can someone so miserable have snagged someone as glittering and sparkles and effervescent and just fucking unequalled in amazing awesomeness as Christina?
What's the gag?
Is she a man?
Am I in a coma?
Is it some mean prank?
Am I just a dolphin dreaming up this tall actor, shambling and sweating his way through this life he's constantly bitching about?

Hope I never find out, because this is awesome.







* You totally didn't guess it.