I didn't end up going to Dr. Dremo's tonight for the Washington Psychotronic Film Society screening of 'Jungle Virgin Force.'
It's possible my life has turned into an Onion article ("Aging Gen-Xer Doesn't Find Bad Movies Funny Anymore") -- I am the right age, after all.
Alternately, it could be just that the movie didn't sound bad enough -- after all, these Indonesian grade-Z movies are lacking in both gratuitous sex and sufficient violence, and fellow auteur Jenny points out you need at least one of the two to make it worthwhile.
I ended up going to the gym for my Wednesday workout (which will be time-shifted for the next couple of months, due to kickball season). I finished up by hitting the punching bag for 20 minutes. I have determined that I've lost what little technique I had, but it felt good, anyway.
By the way, if you're going from Waxpool to Route 28 south at night: Don't. They're working on the new overpass by Sterling Boulevard and it cuts down to one lane.
Oh, and by the way -- lady in the SUV in front of me this morning: If there is a medium-sized plastic bag/tarp thing blowing around in the roadway, it is by definition empty -- therefore, you don't have to jam on your brakes to avoid hitting it, as the 3,000 pound car behind you (even at a safe following distance) is (or should be) of greater concern.