Shocker. Wolverine claimed top spot at the box office this weekend. If you peruse the write-ups of the weekend's tally, you'll notice a bit of a flabbergasted tone at how many women showed up. Bloody 47% of the audience was female, and the ladies were evenly split on being over/under 25 years of age.
There are two entities that have never understood women: Hollywood & the NFL. They are always underestimating their female audience. Remember back in the day when husbands, boyfriends and sons across the world were shocked at how willing their wives and daughters were to check out Gladiator? There wasn't the usual struggle and negotiation on Friday and Saturday nights that hazy summer of 2000.
Pause.
Flashing back to Russell's muscles and gimlet stare.
Flashing back to Russell's muscles and gimlet stare.
Resume.
And, don't get me started on the NFL. They market more aggressively to foreigners than they do the Ladies of the U.S. of A. They've started to take baby steps in the merchandise, but I'm sure that was the effect of some grassroots efforts near various stadiums. NFL Network? Bitch, please. Those deep-voiced fe-bots with L.A. hair are not there for women who love football. W-H-A-T-E-V-E-R.
Deep breath.
Pinned to the wall.
Calm again.
Calm again.
Can I make a suggestion? Let's make Gladiator 2. Maximus is dead (but not in our lustful hearts), but he has a brother, Gluteus, played by Jackman. Gluteus bitch-slaps his way into Africa until he runs into Nefertiti, as played by me. Then all kinds of huminah huminah happens under the hot sun in the desert...causing his rampant thighs to glisten.
Don't spend too much money on the script, Hollywood. Note to the costume department: let's shorten the skirts and do away with undersmocks, OK? We're not showing up for the plot. Got it?
You know Deborah is enjoying that before too many cheeseburgers and spaghetti bolognese dials him back to something approaching normal.
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