Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Bachelorette Andi Episode Whatever: Andi is Horny, Not Corny

Well Hello, Readers,

Yea, it's me.  I've decided to carve out a little time post-episode to share my thoughts on Andi's wardrobe, Josh's Mr. Ed teeth, Nick's low key consistency, Chris' blue balls, and Harrison's Bachelor in Paradise Don Johnson wardrobe.  Let's get to it, shall we?

First of all, let's harken back to last week's hometown dates.

Dear Chris, I love your salt-of-the-earth honesty, but the response to "What would I do for work here?" is not "There's an opportunity to be a homemaker."    That question is equivalent to the following Relationship Trap Questions.  To be clear, RTQ's are deliberate traps set for unsuspecting, well-meaning men in relationships.  These include:

1.  Do I look fat in these (insert newly purchased article of trendy clothing)?

2.  Do you think she's pretty?

3.  Would you ever (insert a male behavior that her best friend is currently upset about) to me?

4.  Do you like strip clubs?

5.  Would you rather go out with your friends or go see (insert Nicolas Sparks movie) tonight?

The ONLY answer to ALL of these questions is a firm, quickly uttered "No, of course not."  Any equivocation or hint of a positive response will result in horrible consequences.  Sometimes it's wiser to just keep the train on the tracks rather than pulling the brake.  Back to Chris.

I'll give the guy credit for his honesty.  It's clear he's an established guy with realistic expectations about where he is in life.

Josh, on the other hand, has less direction than an Iowa weather vane in a windstorm.  It's clear the guy has no plan beyond the Fantasy Suite.  Hell, I'm not sure he's going to propose next week even after Neil Lane drops in after his all nighter with Harrison at the local Dominican nudie bar.

Speaking of Josh, it is me or did his entire family look like Andi?  His mother looked like an older version of her.  As creepy as that sounds, it doesn't end there.  Josh's dental situation also resembles the horse's teeth that Chris rode during his Dump Date in the Dominican Republic.  Andi was about as comfortable on that horse as a bastard on Father's Day.  Granted, after two Fantasy Dates horseback riding was probably not the most considerate activity for the producers to choose.  She'd have been better off with a big bottle of cranberry juice, a giant tub of Desitin, and a well-placed bag of ice.

Speaking of sore wedding tackle, I feel horrible for Chris.  I think we all know that giving him the third Fantasy Date when Andi knew she was neither A.) Going to forego the foreplay and throw him some Courtesy Copulation in the Fantasy Suite, nor B.) Going to keep him around until the Rose Ceremony was a not so clever way of putting the exclamation point on the "He had his heart broken by Andi, but now he's returned to find love" narrative we'll hear on the ABC promos and well into the first episode of his season when he's selected as the next Bachelor.  Being forced to catch the Red eye with Blue balls is a bad way to go out.  Fleiss owes him a solid.

Let's talk about Nick.  Alright, so he's not as affable as Josh.  He's got worse hair and he's clearly uncomfortable with the format of the show.  He's done a poor job hiding his emotions and an even worse job being patient this season.  Nonetheless, Andi is clearly interested and, minus Josh and the entire production staff, he'd have a solid shot at landing her in the real world.

(Here comes the "however".)

HOWEVER, even though he made it to home plate on the Fantasy Date (or was it the dugout?), Andi has Josh on the brain (and every other part of her anatomy for that matter).  She repeatedly buys Josh's brooding invasion of her personal space as a substitution for saying anything substantive.  She giggled like a little girl at his cursory Spanish and she jumped into the Fantasy Suite faster than she jumped on that horse.

"But Josh is a former baseball player and doesn't have a job," you say?  Irrelevant.    Josh doesn't have a job but Andi certainly has some openings he could fill.  

The only difference between her horseback ride with Chris and her night with Josh was stirrups.  Nick is done.  Plain and simple.  It's all over but the boat ride, the overhead helicopter shots of her kissing Josh, and the teary-eyed limo interview with Nick.

If you've been listening carefully and reading Andi's body language the answer is as loud as the flowy silk mumu she wore on her date with Chris.  While she is clearly ATTRACTED to Marcus, Chris, and Nick she's not EXCITED by any of them.  Add in Marcus' incessant neediness and Chris' geographical handicap and those two are easy to figure out.  Again, in a vacuum, she'd date Nick.  Next to Josh, he, like Marcus and Chris before him, is simply neither as intriguing nor as risky.  She's never been bored with Josh.  That's not the case with the other three.

The bottom line is that most women will accept just about anything from men they are attracted to except boredom.  If I'm wrong about that . . . .  Nevermind, I'm not wrong about that.   That's why women will pick a funny guy over a good looking one and why someone as ugly as Mick Jagger has been pulling in models since the mid-sixties.

Moving on.  Let's discuss Andi's wardrobe.  Look, I'm no Tommy Hilfiger, but Andi's wardrobe is awful.  As I've said before, she's no Emily but she's not unattractive.  While she doesn't "do it" for me, she's a young woman with a nice figure, thick healthy hair, and good skin tone.  She's a fresh fish but she's wrapped sloppily in old newspaper most of the time.  From the horrible necklines in her Alexis Colby evening gowns to the unflattering mumu-esque silk shirts, coupled with a rat's nest for a hairstyle, she just hasn't done much to accentuate her best features--or even the ones ole Hy Dorfman paid for.

Let me clarify.  I'm a jeans and t-shirt guy.  Any girl who can look good in a regular pair of jeans and a t-shirt is far more attractive to me than a taped, tucked, Spanxxed, and plastered woman squeezed into a fancy evening gown.  Unzipping that evening gown after the big night out is like opening a can of biscuits.

My point is that if you're going to go that route--especially on live TV when you're supposed to look all angelic and marry-able--do it right.  She's shown less taste this season than Chris has shown upper lip.  Her Rose Ceremony dress last night looked like she picked it up from the tailor before he was finished with it.  Let's hope the wedding dress (I typed that with a straight face) is flattering.

Alright, like all of my posts this season, this one is short and sweet.  It looks like the big finale will feature (for a second time) yet another ex-baseball player sweating profusely on a tropical island as he makes a poor decision.  In the interim, I'll remind you that Lincee (www.ihategreenbeans.com) Ray will be a welcome guest at Mr. and Mrs. Some Guy's house for the Men Tell All show next week.  She's promised to mop the floors and clean the pool in exchange for her air conditioned room.

I've already put a temporary sign on the guest bedroom door labelled "Lair of Seclusion" and we've purchased a Pier 1 shelf on which I've placed a head shots of Chris Harrison, Ryan Gosling, and Bradley Cooper.  I'm still working on filling it with strategically placed candles and some soft blue backlighting so Lincee will feel right at home.  

Let me know what you think of my picks in the Comment section below.  Enjoy the rest of your week and I'll be in touch soon.  In the meantime, if you need me, I'll be ironing my turquoise suit.  DP

Friday, July 11, 2014

I-O-WAS Gonna Post This Week, But...

Hello Readers, 

Sorry for the big delay.  Some Guy has been on the road this week and it's been a struggle to keep up with anything else but work.  Some of you have hinted at my "billable hours," but that's not accurate. You see, Some Guy works on contingency which means that if Some Guy don't win, Some Guy don't get paid.  You can see my dilemma.  

The good news is that I haven't abandoned this season.  The better news is that thanks to some of my big shot friends across the country, I was able to obtain my own free copy of Courtney Robertson's filthy tell all book about her Bachelor season with Ben.  I'll be blogging about it upon completion.  Thank you Emily, Alica, and Molly for subjecting me . . . errrr . . . opening my eyes to such fantastic prose.  

I'll blog about the Fantasy Dates and Lincee and I are watching the Men Tell All show together, so I'll make an exception and write about that as well.  I'll post as soon as humanly possible.  Thanks, as always, for sticking around.  

Have a fantastic weekend.  Relax and drink your equivalent of a Lone Star for me.  In the meantime, if you need me, I'll be pondering the deep thoughts in Courtney's book.  DP

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Bachelorette Andi: Let's Ghent the Show on the Road

Well, folks, this might be my least productive season ever.  I’m like Andi’s hairdresser:  I show up unannounced every other week and I do a terrible job when I arrive.  I’d apologize, but who’d listen?  I appreciate the empathetic messages I get intermittently from fellow trial attorneys coming up for air and I’m also grateful for the sympathetic messages from the non-attorneys out there with busy lives of their own.  Again, if this gig put water in the pool and beer in the ‘fridge, I’d be here every day.  If and until then, we’ll all have to settle. 

Andi, Andi, Andi.  Let’s talk about Andi. 

With the exception of one reader (Mr. Ishrar) it seems that my assessment of Andi as a marginally attractive, insecure ball buster is universally shared by my audience.  Birds of a feather, I suppose.  Well, either that or she actually IS a marginally attractive, insecure ball buster.  As we say down here in Texas, that distinction is six in one, a half dozen in the other.  Put another way, a rose by any other name is still a marginally attractive, insecure, ball busting rose.  Shakespeare wrote that (sort of) so it must be true.

In light of my lack of time, this post will mirror my last Bachelorette post in that it will be more of a mish mash of my thoughts rather than a point-by-point breakdown of the episode.  

This is the part where I’m supposed to tell you that I have tons of thoughts on the last two shows, but that would be a big fat lie.  The truth is, Andi bores me to the point of catatonia and it’s like everything I can like do to like watch her like try to like fall in love or whatever.  Add the fact that the remaining dudes are more depressing than a Flemish painting, and you see my dilemma.  Still, I’m going to make fondue from this bunch of cheese balls.


Let’s go guy by guy, shall we?

Cody.  Look, I know half of you are trying to remember who Cody is while the other half of you would have forgotten him but for the big announcement that he plans to join the other “stars” on the Bachelor in Paradise.  

If you recall, an especially heartless Andi let this Neanderthal ramble on for what seemed like hours about his feelings before eventually breaking down into tears and kicking him to the curb—at dinner no less.  Cody and his deep v-neck and magical electric sport coat were relegated to a hungry, heartbroken walk of shame amongst the gorgeous Italian backdrop.  Sigh. . . .  I’ll give the guy credit for trying the hard close, but she just wasn’t ready to be convinced.    

Granted, I know she was probably goaded into silence by whatever producer stood hawkishly off camera while that blood bath was materializing, but geez.  We all know that every Bachelorette has the ability to stray from “the rules” and make an executive decision every now and then.  

Sparing a guy who—in her own words—always made her smile the abject humiliation of getting castrated in front of millions of people was probably a good reason to use her Bachelorette Rule Breaker Trump Card.  Cody was a lot of things; one of which was a nice guy.  Sure, he over tanned, frosted his thinning hair, and looked like Macklemore, but he certainly didn’t deserve the slow death she gave him.  The bad news is that he never made it to Belgium.  The even worse news is that his 15 minutes isn’t over yet. 

Nick.  I’m going to go out on a limb and say that I actually like Nick.  Sure, he’s overly talkative, annoyingly analytical, and hyper competitive.  However, in and of themselves, the aforementioned characteristics aren’t necessarily bad qualities to have.  The problem for Nick is that he’s stuck in the middle of a 10 week sword fight with a bunch of intellectually inferior alpha males, all of whom are rightfully threatened by his presence. 

Can anyone point to anything this guy has done “wrong” this season?  From where I’m sitting I see a self-assured guy doing everything he can to win the affections of a girl he appears to like.  Now, whether he likes her because she’s currently verboten or because he’s into sloppily maintained former prosecutors remains to be seen, but he’s out playing the rest of the field and they all know it.  Between Farmer Chris’ incessant whining and Basketball Brian’s nonsensical accusations of gamesmanship, I had no time to write jokes about Nick’s scarf. 

Clearly, Andi is interested.  He earned the group date rose in Babe Ruth-esque fashion by calling his home run shot very early in the date.  I will admit that he gives off a creepy Buffalo Bill Gumb vibe, but I’ll chalk that up to a sense of urgency rather than any diagnosable psychological disorder.  


However, if we find out from his Milwaukee hometown that he’s basically a loner with maternal abandonment issues, an abusive father, and had a tendency to torture the family dog, I’ll change my mind.  Andi puts the lotion in the basket or she gets the hose again. 

Farmer Chris.  I like this guy less and less each week.  My guess is that Andi feels the same way.  The best exchange in next week’s hometowns based on the previews occurs when Andi knowingly asks Chris while sitting in an Iowa cornfield, “what would I do for work out here?”  His response—a classic, by the way—“there’s an opportunity to be a homemaker.”  Translation:  I’m not moving from Atlanta to Iowa.  Nice chatting with you. 

Incidentally, I think we’d all agree that there’s nothing wrong with being a homemaker in Iowa—or anywhere else for that matter—provided both parties are on board.  Andi is just not on board.  Frankly, I think if given the choice she’d rather take her chances at being fattened up and having her flesh turned into a swatch by serial killer Nick than land squarely on her feet in the middle of Iowa.  Say what you will about sociopaths but they’re never boring to be around.  Farmers from Iowa on the other hand . . . .

Basketball Brian.  Is there any doubt that he was kept around by Andi because he’s a nice guy?  Is there any doubt that he was eliminated for the same reason?  He made a good showing despite engaging in some unnecessary whining with Dylan about Nick’s “strategy.”  He was likely over Andi by the time Belgian Air flight 353 touched down in Allentown, Pennsylvania. He’ll be married to the Home Ec teacher inside of a year. 

Dylan.  To say he’s had a rough couple of years in his life would be an understatement.  In light of that, I’ll forgive his haircut and wish him well.  It’s regretful that that the only real burst of personality we saw out of him all season occurred in the final segment of the show while he chased Basketball Brian around with a pickle.  As weird as that was, perhaps if he had shown Andi his pickle he’d still be around. 

Josh M.  He’s literally the only dude who refused to fawn over Andi like a fat kid over one of those oversized, circular, rainbow colored lollipops you win at the carnival.  It’s abundantly clear that she buys his low-key former jock act on every level.  The previews seem to foretell some tension between Andi and the Fam Damily next week.  If any of you think that will make a damn bit of difference, you’re delusional.  He’s going to the Fantasy Suite where he’ll hit the biggest home run of his former baseball career. 

Marcus.  Be honest, ladies.  Does Marcus’ incessant, insecure, unapologetic, and unrelenting fawning really make him attractive?  “Grow a pair, dude,” was all I could think as he was talking to—no, begging—Andi to choose him.  If desperation was Rogaine the guy would have a full head of hair in no time.  Andi seemed to eat it up, however.  Whatever gets you the next level, I guess. 

Let me clarify for the sake of my own edification.  I’m not suggesting that a “real man” has to keep his feelings close to his scarf and v-neck.  Indeed, real men don’t wear v-necks and scarves.  However, I think women appreciate confidence.  Nick’s “I can feel that you have feelings for me” speech last night was an example.  Granted, it was manipulative and presumptuous, but it told Andi that he’s there to close the deal.  Marcus seemed to flounder around his playpen in a soggy diaper tripping over his stuffed animals.

So where do we go from here? 

I’d be willing to bet that Nick and Josh are the final two.  The hometown will spell Chris’ demise and Marcus won’t out macho Nick or Josh in the final three.  Who wins?  Josh.  Hands down. 

Well, there it is.   As we head in to hometowns next week we’ve got the big Fourth of July holiday weekend ahead of us.  I, for one, will be relaxing by the pool with a cold Lone Star in hand before enjoying the fireworks.  All a person has to do these days is turn on the news to see that the fact that we have the choice to voluntarily subject ourselves to the televised tail hunt known as The Bachelorette rather than running away from bombs and machetes makes us incredibly lucky.  

Take a moment to realize that this weekend.  Enjoy yourselves, travel safely, and I’ll see you back here next week.  In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be chasing people around with my pickle.   DP

Sunday, June 22, 2014

Bonus Post: The Notebook Reloaded

Hello, Readers.  Happy Notebook anniversary.  Thanks to Lincee at www.ihategreenbeans.com, you have a bonus post from both of us this week, albeit a partially recycled one.  

Ten years.  Yes.  It’s been ten years since Ryan went from a Gosling to a full-blown Goose.  It’s hard for me to believe that the pinnacle of chick movies, The Notebook, is ten years old.  It’s even harder for me to believe that I’m sitting here in my precious free time writing about it.


In my experience women fall into three categories when it comes to this movie.  They are as follows:

1.              The Notebook is the most romantic story ever.  I cry sweet yet sad tears of joy each time I see Noah and Allie's undying love (notwithstanding the fact that she cheats on her doting fiancé).

2.              Ryan Gosling is hot and I’ve seen the movie but don’t really care for it.  (This is the minority view)

3.              I haven’t seen The Notebook because I’ve been busy practicing my softball skills . . . with my girlfriend. 

As with any Nicholas Sparks’ story, it’s horribly sappy, marginally believable, and features a female lead perfect for Rachel McAdams.  There are lots of water-based metaphors and a pathological devotion to the premise that there's truly only one man for every woman; particularly women who look like Rachel McAdams.

Incidentally, Mrs. Some Guy looks  a bit like Rachel McAdams.  Maybe I'm into this movie more than I'd like to admit.  Annnyyyhooo. . .    

Back to the movie.  

After a long run around Town Lake (now Lady Bird Lake) one innocuous 2011 afternoon I sat drinking water in my house flipping aimlessly around the channels.  I’m not the kind of guy who sits and watches Sportscenter for an entire weekend, so the boredom brought on by the realization that I pay $200.00 per month for 1800 channels of nothing was beginning to migrate toward anger.  Lo and behold, I happened upon the beginning scene of The Notebook. Admittedly curious, I hit the record button and decided to watch it. 

After watching it from start to finish. I called up my good friend and, unbeknownst to me at the time, dyed-in-the-wool Notebook believer, Lincee Ray.

LR:  What are you doing?

DP:  I’m going to write a review of The Notebook.

LR:  ……

DP:  I said, I’m going to write a review of The Notebook.

And that’s now it started.  Below is a redacted portion of my April 2011 post entitled I Drink from the Holy Grail.  Click on over to Lincee’s rebuttal after you get done with my review.  Enjoy.   

(Insert blurry fade out and weird flashback music)

The Notebook Reloaded

Ideas juggling, I finished my run and came home to enjoy a cool shower and a giant glass of water. I read a little, opened some mail, checked some things online, and turned on the television. Flipping around, I eventually noticed the title of a movie I had heard a lot about but had never seen.

My inspiration peaked and I knew I had the subject of my next blog. Yes, Readers, I had come full circle from down in the dumps to up in the clouds and I decided right then and there to watch from start to finish with an open mind the Holy Grail of all chick movies. I would review The Notebook.

Disclaimer: Look, I realize that it’s my job here to keep you entertained. Sometimes that involves blatant pandering to the audience and sometimes it involves me just saying “f*ck it” and writing what I want. I realize that the movie is one that evokes a lot of emotions in women. In fact, after tipping my hand and telling a couple of my female friends about my intent to write about it this week, one of them actually became visibly annoyed at the fact that I might attempt to slaughter the movie, which in her mind anyway, would lead to the utter destruction of true love itself. If you’re in the same camp, never fear, I’m certain Lincee Ray at www.ihategreenbeans.com will resurrect whatever I tear down.

For those of you who have never seen the 2004 movie—I’m probably speaking to my male readers here—it’s a story set in the 1940’s that focuses around a lumber yard worker named Noah Calhoun and a jobless rich girl named Allie Hamilton. The narration takes place in the present day at an old folks home where an old man reads the love story to a forgetful old woman. We soon learn that the old folks are, in fact, Noah and Allie in the waning years of their lives.

Noah reads to Allie in hopes that her dementia will subside long enough for a moment of clarity so he can have her again, if not for just a few minutes. The entire thing is based on the book by Nicholas Sparks. Normally, I prefer a book over a movie, but I didn’t read it in this case. I have no opinion on what type of writer he is, nor do I care for purposes of this post. This one is about the movie.

The movie begins with a soft music and some guy rowing on a lake at sunrise while some old broad looks knowingly out the window as if she was trying to remember where she’d seen geese before. I was already bored stiff.

The guy from the Rockford Files comes into her room at the old folks’ home and offers to read to her but the cranky old lady refuses. Frankly, I would have wished her a good day, told her to enjoy her applesauce and water from a plastic cup and bendy straw and left to go play shuffle board on the quad in hopes of hooking up with a lucent sixty-something for one last roll in the hay.

Regardless, Jim Rockford ignores her bitching and begins to read to her about a guy named Noah and a girl named Allie as we flash back to the early ‘40’s before Pearl Harbor was bombed.

Noah is played by Ryan Gosling. He’s basically a blonde version of Keanu Reeves when it comes to his range as an actor. He’s wooden, expressionless, and boring. However, he dresses like Brad Pitt, apparently works in a lumberyard, and immediately wants to have sex with Allie when he sees her. The guy who plays “E” on Entourage is his best buddy and despite also dressing like Brad Pitt, he’s basically “E” in The Notebook. He tells Noah that Allie and her hoity toity friends are out of his league.

Allie is played by Rachel McAdams who—with the exception of that horrible psycho on a plane movie—plays the same character in every movie, including Wedding Crashers. She’s pretty, virginal but not innocent, and was properly cast. They could have picked someone with bigger cans, but hey, she’ll do. Allie is happy, on summer vacation in Seabrook, South Carolina, and free of responsibility. Ignoring the fact that rich, spoiled girls can never be made whole by the man they marry, Noah decides to c*ck block her date and ask her out.

Noah butts into Allie’s date and Allie’s date sits there like a pansy in a flowerbed despite his date being openly hit on by Noah. Perhaps her date was bored with him as well. At any rate, Noah climbs the Ferris wheel where Allie and her date are riding and proceeds to hang from the ride one handed until she agrees to go out with him.

Whatever. If I had been Allie’s date Noah would have been forced to swallow his Brad Pitt hat long before the stunt on the Ferris wheel. Also, if Allie had agreed to go on a date with him while I was shelling out cash for carnival rides and Ferris wheels, she would have been walking her romantic ass all the way home. Romantic moment or not, dance with the one who brought you, Allie. Trolling for men while you’re on a date is not cool; especially in front of your date.

In a very Danny and Sandy-esque fashion, Noah and Allie proceed to gallivant around Seabrook for the entire summer. Despite having a back breaking job in the lumber yard and apparently no money, Noah manages to find time for daytime walks, bike rides, and picnics as he and Allie play a perpetual game of grabass until we learn from Jim Rockford that they fell madly in love. The old lady remains cranky but interested. She bitches some more at James Garner as the stereotypical overweight black nurse enters to give him his medicine before he continues reading. He should have reminded her that Silence is Golden. Either that or he could have reminded her that Duct Tape is Silver. She finally shuts up, preferring golden silence to silver duct tape and he continues reading.

We meet Noah’s affable father played by Sam Shepard, a real life Pulitzer Prize winner, and he makes Allie some pancakes while recounting embarrassing stories about Noah’s speech problem. At least we had a frame of reference for his lack of personality, I thought.

Eventually, Allie’s rich parents come from Atlanta to retrieve their daughter and discover that she’s dating some poor lumberyard worker who dresses like Brad Pitt and acts like Keanu Reeves. Dad and his weird mustache don’t care too much but her domineering, judgey mother does and she and Noah’s plans at happiness are destined to be thwarted.

We later learn that mom fell in love with some guy from the lumber yard but married dad because—all things considered—he was a nice enough guy in spite of his weird mustache and was dripping with cash. Frankly, that scenario was the most believable in the movie. I found her hatred of Noah and her assertion of him as “trash” to be inconsistent with her character. She fell in love with a poor lumber yard guy and ditched the guy for cash; a move she apparently made peace with but regretted for a lifetime. Calling Noah “trash” diminishes the validity of that relationship and her belief in the true love that this whole thing is supposed to be about—in my mind anyway. Allie has family money and is free to pursue her heart. I have no idea why her mother wouldn’t support that. Perhaps it’s because the book was written by a man. It seems that the father should have been the one with the problem and not the mother. Annnyyyyhoooo . . .

Noah takes Ali to a dilapidated plantation home called Windsor Mansion and exposes her to the dangers of unstable ceilings and flammable, brittle wood. He tells her of his dream of restoring the place if only he had the money to do it. Then they stand across from each other and undress before “E” sounds the alarm that Allie’s parents are back in town. Dude. He put up with bike rides, picnics, and flowers all summer and didn’t get any? I began to see why this movie was so sad.

Noah and Allie eventually fight and regretfully break up before her parents haul her spoiled, rich ass back to her mansion in Atlanta. Noah broods a bunch and eventually enlists in the army after hearing about the Pearl Harbor attack. How romantic. 

Despite undoubtedly being stripped of all his belongings and identity and being shipped off to basic training until eventually ending up on a packed warship and traveling overseas to be placed in the gun sights of angry Aryans vying for world domination and watching “E” from Entourage die on the battlefield, Noah manages to write (and mail) Allie one pristinely penned love letter per day for 365 days. After no response for a year, his pen gives up—but alas, his heart does not. Come on. I laughed to myself at the thought of Noah having the wrong zip code or house number. We eventually learn that her lumber yard-whoring mother has been intercepting all of them.

While Noah is dodging shrapnel, killing Germans, and watching his best friend die, Alli poontangs around the Atlanta social scene with Lon Hammond, a rich guy she met while pretending to volunteer at some place for wounded soldiers. She loves Noah so much that—get this--she boozes it up with the rich folks at fancy galas and eventually gets engaged to Lon Hammond and his money. True love, my ass.

Noah returns home to Atlanta and sees Alli poontanging around with an engagement ring on her finger. Heartbroken, he returns to Seabrook where his dad fortuitously tells him that he’s sold his house so that Noah can buy and renovate the Windsor Mansion. His dad kicks the bucket unexplainably and Noah miraculously and singlehandedly renovates the entire plantation into a perfectly finished and manicured piece of artwork in less time than it takes him to grow a beard and appear Amish despite having limited funds and a new war-widowed girlfriend who undoubtedly insisted on picking out the colors for the walls, drapery, and all of the bedding.

All by himself? Hell, the guy didn’t even ask a contractor for a rough estimate. I asked a guy for a rough estimate once. He kicked me in the balls and then quoted me the price. I’ll be here all week, folks.

Noah even manages to include a furniture shop for himself and a painting studio for Allie complete with the symbolic blank canvas awaiting her return. I assumed the canvas symbolized Gosling’s absence of depth rather than Noah’s undying desire for a blank future with Allie.

While getting her ass kissed in her wedding dress, Allie sees Noah’s picture in the paper next to his high dollar house and faints because she believes he is now Amish. She bathes in her veil and eventually meets her rich, understanding, good looking, tolerant, well-mannered, doting, successful, non-possessive, supportive, giant ring-buying, sensitive fiancé at his office where he happily takes a few moments away from earning a living so she can have the finest things to which she’s become accustomed in order tell him that she’s going to Seabrook to poontang around there for a bit. Incredibly, the guy agrees. Bull. Sh*t.

Allie fills the car her fiancé bought her with gas purchased by money he gave her and heads to Seabrook in search of Noah. She arrives at the new house and after faking like she’s not there to sleep with him she and Noah have a rekindling of sorts as he respectfully recognizes her pending nuptials and opts for a friendship instead. Sparing her the details of his arduous battlefield missive writing, he instead throws her in a rowboat and takes her to see a flock of digitally created geese in a swamp and pretends like they are romantic symbols of their love rather than the angry, noisy, disease carrying fowl that they really are. Allie sits there in her sun dress in amazement as Noah overcomes his sore, pre-arthritic joints and his post traumatic stress disorder so he can transport her spoiled ungrateful ass across the lake. Meanwhile, her fiancé continues to work in anticipation of a family with Allie.

On the way back to the perfectly renovated mansion Noah confesses that he is not, in fact, Amish even though he dresses like he is, wears a beard like an Amish person, and builds wooden furniture. He tells Allie that he’s dedicated his every waking moment since that day on the Ferris wheel to her happiness, even at the cost of his own. As it begins to pour Allie has the balls to drop a “why didn’t you write me” and Noah eventually realizes that he should have used FedEx with a signature requirement rather then relying upon regular mail.

Allie then makes the conscious decision to cheat on her rich, understanding, good looking, tolerant, well-mannered, doting, successful, non-possessive, supportive, giant ring-buying, sensitive fiancé and ends up getting slammed against an antique cupboard while ripping off Noah’s wet, Amish clothes and throwing them on the newly finished wood floor where they undoubtedly soaked into the finish and ruined that section of the wood before Noah ravishes her in the same bed that he ravished the war widow in the day before. Details.

I’m certain that while Allie was painting topless in the studio Noah built her with nothing more than his bare hands and the labor of his undying love Noah was downstairs the following morning sanding the water damage out of the floor in order restain and reseal it. Eventually, her mother and her fiancé figure it out and we avoid the messy conversation about betrayal, dishonesty, infidelity, and self-centeredness that was appropriate. Instead, we get a watered down version of her rich, understanding, good looking, tolerant, well-mannered, doting, successful, non-possessive, supportive, giant ring-buying, and sensitive fiancé actually being—well, understanding, tolerant, non-possessive, supportive, and sensitive about it all.

We cut back to the modern day where we see that James Garner has suffered a series of heart attacks while Allie has drifted aimlessly in and out of interest in the story. We get a glimpse of their children and grand children as the old Noah tells them that he’s not leaving Allie alone. Eventually, she recognizes him for a couple of minutes and they share a dance before she freaks out and has to be sedated. He ends up sneaking into her hospital room and lying in bed with her and, after they agree that their love and conquer all, they die side by side holding hands and are discovered by the stereotypical overweight black nurse the following morning.

It’s at this point in the movie that we’re all supposed to have a tear in our eye and a tissue in our hand reveling in the presence of true, undying love. That’s not what ran through the cynical, macho, uncompromisingly male side of my brain. Basically, The Notebook is Forrest Gump except it’s not funny and Noah is not mentally challenged—arguably. 

The point of The Notebook is that no matter how much you love a woman she will inevitably go crazy and drive you to an early death. The entire movie is about a spoiled little rich girl who always got her way.  

Picture this movie:

A poor, attractive, hard working girl from a single parent home with no money ventures out to the state fair where she meets the man of her dreams who is from a well-to-do family vacationing for the summer on the rich side of her town. They fall madly in love and spend a summer sharing the simple things that make life worth living. Eventually, the man’s parents send him away from the town and the woman is heartbroken. She spends hours upon hours writing letters in hopes of his return. She pines for him relentlessly seeking solace in no one and dedicating her entire existence to the hope of his return.

He goes to school, lives the fast life and beds dozens of women while living off his family money. He eventually falls in love with another woman with family money who supports him and buys him everything he wants. He accepts her affection and proposes a marriage of convenience only to return to town years later and pray on the affections of the dedicated woman. He lies to his friends and family and moves into the woman’s house where she has kept a room for him despite his lack of contact. He cheats on his fiancé and eventually calls of the wedding so he can be with the other woman.

Not the same movie, is it?

Double Standard. If a woman does this it’s considered “romance” or “undying love.” If a man does the same thing, he’s a cheater and a louse. It’s along the same lines as when a group of women leave their children and their husbands at home in order to get together to drink pinot grigio and pick out sex toys at a friend’s house. Can you imagine having a husband come home and announce that he was leaving for the evening to hang out with his buddies and use some of the family money to buy a couple of sex toys? I suppose that’s just the way the non-renovated plantation crumbles.

I’ll reluctantly admit that I found the movie both interesting and thought provoking. I really did. Yes, it was sappy, unrealistic from a practical point of view, cheesy at times, and very chick oriented. However, the larger picture is that true love never dies and that every woman wants to feel as loved and secure as Allie ultimately ended up feeling—everything else be damned.

I get that and I’d venture a guess that most men would too if forced to admit it. As the lonely war widow told Noah, “a woman knows when a man looks into her eyes and sees someone else.” The same is true for a man. And as the old Noah said to his children, “that's my sweetheart in there. Wherever she is, that's where my home is.” That, too, is the truth. The entire movie reminded me of an old Vern Gosdin song titled Chiseled in Stone. That song takes two and a half minutes, not two and a half hours. Download it and listen. Let me know what you think.

Well, there it is: My take on The Notebook. I hope you enjoyed it. Until next week, take care of yourselves and remind someone that you love them. In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be growing a beard and remodeling my mansion singlehandedly. 

That was my 2011 post.  

You know, upon reflection the more I think about it, the more I think I just might be inextricably linked to this damn movie.  Check out the dude Mrs. Some Guy and I saw in Napa Valley last year.  I think Noah Calhoun was following us.  

Oh. My. God.  I'm James Marsden.