Hola mi amigos!
no your eye tubes aren't broken. What you just saw was someone completely untrained in the Spanish language typing in flawless Spanish (probably ... I didn't check). This sudden, and no doubt surprising, change in dialect is because in 3 weeks I will be on the island of Grand Canaries (or some such ... I haven't been paying much attention). But this won't impact you, my most loyal of readers, at all as my mind hole will still pump random junk through my finger cylinders down through the network of wires connecting me to you and onto your partially illuminated monitor (you know you should really fix your brightness settings it's not good for your eyes).
Anyway the undirected rambling finished with here are some marginally more directed thoughts on Crying at Movies and the direct link to being a man.
I cry ... a lot (at movies ... not in general (also is 'at movies' the right term? It sounds like i fire tear drops at the screen (I don't))) films just have a way of worming into my heart. I can sit and watch the most mind numbingly dull movie and so long as there is one character who I can connect to in the loosest of ways ("oh my god HE WEARS SHIRTS TOO!!!!) when something bad happens to them I will cry.
Now most men will quietly contain there tears (or just not cry at all) and then claim they are the manliest of men (pffft I ain't going to cry over no cowboy toy nearly burning to death (YOU MONSTER)) but I look at them and I feel sad (inevitably leading to more tears). Whats wrong with them? that character who also likes bacon has just been dumped AND IT'S RAINY! how can you sit there passively watching? do you not feel for him? is your heart fashioned from cold, hard granite? (I know, I know peoples hearts are really made from candy but i need the comparison for my monologue)
Now you, dear reader, are probably sitting there in one of two ways, you are either sitting there, small bottle of eye moistener in your hand, laughing to yourself thinking 'this fool! he allows his feelings to control his movie going experience, why i bet he even shed a tear in 27 dresses' (for your information i did not ... no instead i got angry and emotional when she couldn't see that HE was the one) or, like myself, tears are flooding down your face right now, you are crying like a small child lost in the woods, like a dear who's mother has just been shot, like a penguin who just lost it's egg to the icy grip of the snow. You, oh reader of mine, are just like me.
That's probably a bad thing.
Jack in black.
