Clearly, my assignment is not getting written until I get some of these opinions out

As Mtastic noted today during our Impulse Control Issues Festival, I need to do a couple of things. The first is sleep more, because in my current state I tend to spiral off into rhapsodic spasms coming up with deranged (but creative) musical opportunities for the cast of High School Musical.

To wit:
High School Musical IV, in which the cast is riding the bus to college (because naturally they all go to the same college) and they get hit by a train so suddenly it’s a Ghost musical in the afterlife, like Orpheus. Except that two of them went to Julliard, so that means there are two people alive telling the story of all the dead people, so it’s kind of like Beetlejuice meets Phantom of the Opera which means it’s actually in Paris so it’s kind of like Moulin Rouge except everyone is dying, and then it’s like a Crosby-Hope Road to Morocco picture and Corbin Bleu and Zac Efron are going to Casablanca, at which point Corbin leaves Zac for the girl he’s always paired with in the HS musical movies, and they come to NY at which point it’s like West Side Story, and also Stomp. West Stomp Story and…..then I was giggling too hard to breathe. The best part is that we both know Mtastic would totes skip work to come see my deranged sleep deprived musical. 

The next is discharge unaired opinions. After the Charlie St. Cloud screening there was a kid with a notepad taking quotes from giggly moviegoing girls – instead of the survey I was told we’d ALL be filling out. Step one, these girls were not bright shining stars in the cinema-going firmament. They were having trouble accepting the basic premise – Zac Efron’s life is stagnant because he’s tied to a daily game of catch with his ghost brother. WHAT IS HARD ABOUT THIS? and had all sorts of faulty observations that generally missed the point of the wonderfullness that was this movie. For the record: Zac Efron is building his career the Tom Hanks way. He’s currently in his Big phase and is gradually dialing down the silly so eventually he’ll be making Forrest Gump. It’s happening

Anyway, to keep my head from exploding we decided to make sure that the cupcake place I can never remember the address of was still there, and it was. We were treated to some of that unique NYC service – there are two flavors, you’ll remember, the kind that is so prompt and orderly you hardly notice you have needs, and the kind where YOU are an imposition and these people are BUSY, TOO BUSY and important for impositional YOU. Today we got the second flavor. 

Then we meandered around to stores we had no business visiting, much less spending money in, and en route got stopped by another free movie pass dispensing guy. He asked if we’d seen any of the required movies, and between the two of us we easily covered 12 of the 15. We grabbed dinner and found ourselves sitting next to Azura Skye which was coolio. 

Online we quickly realized this was Not Your Average Screening. First we were approached by a woman asking if we wanted to participate in a post-film focus group. She may have used the word intimate, which in my sleep deprived state I quickly decided it was appropriate to ask if she meant ‘naked." She did not. We agreed to participate anyway. Awkward talk about going to a spa as a group ensued. This was followed by some considerable displays of weird disorganization for a professional market research team. 

Then we watched the movie, waded through the post-show feedback with seriously, a veritable infestation of 3Qs many of whom, in addition to totally missing the point of the film and the talkback, consistently misinterpreted the format.

The format being "Who agrees with *broad statement*? DIsagrees? Neutral?" And the 3Q preferred template being of course "Who has a long disjointed personal statement with no discernable end, beginning, relevance or insight?" 

So there was that.

Tomorrow: Turn in this week’s writing assignment that I’m about to write, get NY driver’s license, possibly get haircut. And I think that’s plenty. 

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