Mondays Night = American Gladiators Night. I’m not sure what it is about American Gladiators; I’m hooked. Maybe it’s Hulk Hogan–I had a serious case of Hulkamania back in elementary school. Last night I was hanging out on the couch, drinking a Big Miller Lite because I am a Big Girl, eating pizza and enjoying American Gladiator’s tribute to the new “Incredible Hulk” movie (which I probably won’t see until I get drunk and add it to my Netflix queue sometime next year). I mean, for crying out loud, Titan painted himself green and spoke only in grunts this week. Someone else is watching this, right?!?
Am I the only one who drunkenly adds bizarre movies to my Netflix queue? God help me if I happen to be watching “I love the 80’s” part VIII with a beer in my hand and catch a reference to some bizarre science fiction movie. Three days later it’s in my mailbox, and I have to watch it because I am Not a Waster. Except of time, because “Westworld” was not a good movie, even if Michael Crichton did write it.