My wife and I went to see the movie “Big Fish” tonight. Boy, what a great movie. It seems that I'm always the one that ends up crying in the end, and my wife just sits there laughing at me for being such a sissy. Eh, who cares? Actually I do. It this sort of stuff that makes me not go with her to all those drama movies where everyone dies, or the foreighn movies where you see a women knitting all through the 90 minutes, only drop the needle at the end - which somehow is supposed to be the movies big finale. It's not that I don't care for these kinds of films, on the contrary. I care too much. I finish the movie like a cry baby and then spend all night thinking about it and dreaming about horrible stuff, while she sleeps like a baby.

Well, count me in as one of those “action-fighiting-jackie chan kicking- matrix sniffins-X-men loving” freaks form now on. That way I can easily hide my quick-cry feature from those I care about.