Schlepped out to Burlington to sit in the back of the comic shop in 80 degree weather, and you know, I had a blast. I knew it was gonna be good when I strolled up to the cast of costumed characters out front, and Darth Vader promptly said "Hi!" and stuck out a hand in my direction. I waited politely to make sure he wasn't going for a Force Choke, then shook his hand. He thanked me for coming out.
I don't remember the Dark Lord of the Sith having such a pronounced southern drawl, but it cracked ME up, anyway.
Once inside, wedged between the dark minds behind Sinister Bedfellows and Cemetary Blues, I was kept in hysterics all afternoon. Sales weren't anything significant, but it paid for gas, and the shop is wanting to carry Blackbeard's Rugged Tampons stuff (and to that end, I have a photo being sent to me of Wonder Woman, wearing a Blackbeard t-shirt and giving the thumbs up. Now THAT's an endorsement...)
As I was headed out to my car to leave--I was parked next to a shipping container--I stumbled over Batman and the Joker smoking cigarettes together behind the container. It's little moments like that that just make your day.
Then it was back to Durham, to go see Iron Man with a man that I am all kinds of stupidly in love with, and his kids, who are pretty entertaining in their own right.
Iron Man. Dude. AWESOME MOVIE. Dude. Incredibly fun, arguably one of the best superhero flicks I've seen. Enjoyed it immensely, recommend it highly if you like big 'splody things with, y'know, bullets and flamethrowers and stuff. (If you want a tender, sensitive exploration of complex human emotion, I suspect you may have wandered into the wrong blog, and I apologize for the confusion...)
The high point, however, may have been
when, at the scene after the end credits, Samuel L Jackson walks out wearing an eyepatch, and a guy down the row begins screaming "OH MY GOD, IT'S NICK FURY! NO FUCKING WAY!" (Yes, it was Nick Fury, and god, yes, the coolness!--but the sound of an audible geekgasm was hysterical.)
And then, back home, where I have cold root beer, NPR, a reasonably good book, and an evening I intend to spend lounging around on the couch doing nothing much in particular, with attendant cats.
Oh. And the Southpoint Barnes & Noble had three copies of Nurk. (YES, I looked. I am WEAK.)