Every once in a while, Biggy will talk me into watching a movie with him against my better judgment--either a high-number sequel to a good movie (Saw) that was never equalled the second time, much less the sixth, or a terrible movie (Jackass) whose sequels cannot even be ranked against the original, or a movie that was so bad (The Waterboy, Team America: World Police), a sequel was never considered. I watch to be a good sport, to be his buddy, so he knows he can count on me even when things get unpleasant. And does he return the favor? No, he doesn't. He wouldn't go with me to watch Sex and the City, one or two; he refuses to watch Heartburn on TV, and he fell asleep during The Deer Hunter, which isn't even a chick flick.
So why did I let him talk me into THIS last night? Showers don't help; prayers don't work. My soul has been permanently damaged.