Beer + Movies = Awesome

As though there were any question.

My cherished childhood dream of attending a theater-pub came true this weekend. All right, cherished teenage dream, but still. The other day I saw this kid whom I would have guessed was 12 climb behind the driver's wheel of a car. BY HIMSELF. I think that my teen years have officially passed over into "childhood".

(Note: I'd claim ***spoilers*** but I'm inclined to think my memories are not very indicative of what actually happened. Anyhoo, proceed at your own risk.)

I suspect the Rodriguez/Tarantino masturbatory spectacular Grindhouse would have been far less enjoyable without alcohol. In fact, I recall startlingly little of Death Proof, though that third pitcher of beer may have had an untoward influence on my memory. I do remember that some girl had great bangs & boobs. Apparently she was killed off. See, the way I remember it is, there was one group of girls in the beginning who were sitting around talking about lapdances or something & then Kurt Russell scared Rose McGowan, who wasn't one of the group & I'm pretty sure he also killed her. Then at some point the lapdance girls kind of morphed into these other girls who were driving in a car. And Kurt Russell wanted to kill all the girls, though why on earth he'd want to do such a thing is beyond my comprehension. They totally had a car-fight. There was also a lot of talking.

Planet Terror had a bit more resonance, being as it was the first feature shown. Yet surprisingly I have even less to say about it. Um, Naveen Andrews + severed testicles also = awesome. And, zombies! Watch out!

I'm guessing that the critics who saw Grindhouse were not drunk, because upon closer inspection the general consensus seems to be that Death Proof, in the spirit of Monte Hellman & Two-Lane Blacktop, is actually a good movie; while Planet Terror is more in line with the genuinely bad strain of zombie movies. I, on the other hand, would have to say that Marley Shelton mangling her own hand was better than two films' worth of Kurt Russell being a baddie.

Regarding the theater itself: half of the rows at the Laurelhurst have counters in front of them, for simple! beer! storage! It was awesome. We, sadly, arrived too late to claim such a row; however, our manly handling of the floor-bound pitcher was commendable & no beer was harmed.

An illustrated conclusion (I think the girl in the cheerleader outfit may be the one with the bangs'n'boobs. I am very, very sad that I don't remember this AT ALL):


Where are they? What are they doing? Was Rosario Dawson really in this movie? Did I fall asleep...?