It’s been a hard few days. My employment situation is unchanged, and I’m starting to pay extra close attention to the slowly dwindling emergency fund in my account. On top of that I’ve been sick since Sunday, and I’ve about as much tolerance for sickness as Post Malone does for deodorant. Plus, I was anxious all day yesterday. One of my old coworkers called to talk about some work on a website I’m helping him with, and I dreaded the call all morning because on top of reeeeallly kind of being over my head with what he wants me to do, I’ve reached a point of social seclusion where human interaction stresses me the fuck out. So maybe it was just a culmination of all that. Maybe a couple days or weeks or months or whatever of built up and misdirected stress finally popped. Or maybe I really did lose it over Channing Tatum and Jamie Foxx’s “blockbuster” **Dr. No air quotes** smash, “White House Down.”
There I was, minding my own business, slowly building up doubt and predetermined failure over my latest job application in between stress gorging myself on Taco Bell, something I haven’t eaten in at least two years, and watching Channing Tatum and Jamie Foxx do their best to save a just truly not very good movie. I remember when “White House Down,” originally came out, I thought it was a spoof. “Olympus Has Fallen” was, I think, still in theaters, and out of nowhere here’s this badly disguised spinoff? imitation? I don’t know what you call it, that tells pretty much the same story only with far more thought spent on explosives than storyline.
Which, honestly, I’m fine with. I found the best parts of Olympus Has Fallen to be either when Morgan Freeman, and no one else, was speaking, or when everyone was just silent and trying to kill each other. A movie that takes out Gerard Butler, Aaron Eckhart, and Dylan McDermott’s ham fist boxing match and replaces it with Channing Tatum and Jamie Foxx’s subtly comedic stunts and more destruction and fire is fine by me.
At least it was until last night. As the movie wore on, as our heroes found themselves in perpetual peril, as Tatum’s character’s daughter continued to be the most usefully useless character in the entire movie, my stress climbed like the little mountaineer in “The Price Is Right,” blissfully unaware of the edge it was hurtling toward. With little more than ten minutes left I was inexplicably choking back tears, both dumbfounded as to what the hell could be causing this sudden breakdown and terrified of turning and revealing my confused, tear streaked face to my girlfriend who I was certain would surely leave me in that instant she discovered “White House Down,” of all fuckin things, might be bringing me to tears.
Well, about 20 minutes later, after unsuccessfully completing an application and sitting there stewing in more emotional roil than last year’s Duncanville Panther football team, my bubble finally popped and I drained myself of a well of feelings of missing my mom I hadn’t realized were there. I don’t really feel better this morning. As I got dressed I had to stop and deal with the realization that as much as I think I’d made myself believe this, this isn’t a phase. She’s gone. For good. So who knows what I’ll cry at next, but last night I added “White House Down,” to the list of ridiculous stuff I cry at now.
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