There and back again and there again.

I know a lot of nerds.  Let's just get that out of the way right now.  If there were some variety of "social graph" of my life (one not owned by Facebook for its attempt to sell me gaudy jewelry or play crappy games) it would, I think, be a pie chart.  Why?  Because, pie, you goddamned heathens.  Pie is delicious, sometimes not filled with arsenic or unexpected dead animals, and charts things nicely.  In this Pie Chart that is my life, like 95% of my friends would be solidly nerd-green.  (Green?  Yes.  Like Arrows, Lanterns, decently readable Hulks, Godzillas, and soylents.  No, I do not know what a pluralized form of soylent would be.  It's a made up word.  Get off my case about it, The Man!)  The remaining five percent would be my mother.  And then my wife's parents.  That's about it, really.  I don't get out much.  You can probably tell that because I'm claiming to be famous to an empty room that may be accidentally glanced at by strangers on their way to see new and exotic boobs.

Why bring this all up?  Because there are times when I find myself turned off by things that should make my nerdy little heart sing.  Things like three. goddamned. Hobbit movies.  Seriously, Hollywood?  Three movies?  There are not enough pages in that book to justify that much movie.  Let alone making it darker and more gritty or whatever the hell they're attempting to do with it.  Yes.  I know that technically they could be taking information out of the various appendices and whatnot and filling out  the world (and that this is the alleged tactic that they're using).

The information isn't a part of the narrative, though.  It's somewhat interesting "this was going on in the rest of the world" fluff that the author essentially invented to explain the change in tone between the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings.  It's cool.  It's interesting if you're a somewhat obsessed lore-junkie (I am.) but that doesn't make it captivating film.  Sorry, Mr. Jackson.  I think you're pretty awesome.  The Frighteners was the bee's knees and all, but I just can't get excited about it.  I want to watch the first one and then I want to go home and talk about how badass it was that Sherlock Holmes turned into a dragon and solved crimes with a Hobbit and a Wizard.  That's amazing.  I don't want to wait 9 hours of my goddamned life to see Bard the Bowman do his sweet Brad Pitt in Troy jumpshot.  I could read the book in nine hours and not need to look at Orlando Bloom's clearly confused face while he contemplates which Dwarf would best suit his depraved needs. The depraved needs that got him banished from his father's kingdom only to redeem himself by helping the Ringbearer and meeting his new love, Gimli.  (Triva alert!: Legolas loves him some hairy little men.  If you look hard enough, you'll find Mr. Bloom in the special edition of Return of the Jedi creeping on Wicket.  True fact.)

Exotic Boobs are only for the patient.

I know that I'll eventually get over this because my wife will make me go see the movie.  I know that when I watch it I will be transported by the majesty of New Zealand and the artistry of Mr. Jackson's work and that I'll probably be in line for the follow-ups with bells on.  Because I'm a sucker and need to finish everything I start. (Damn you for taking advantage, Terry Goodkind.  I hate your face).

Has there ever been anything you've felt you should be excited about but couldn't quite muster up the energy for, Intertron? I don't know...like the birth of your child(ren) or something?  It's ok, you can admit it here.  Your spouse won't see and your therapist probably thinks it better that you stop bottling it all up anyway.