Thanks to the snow, freezing rain, and anything else hitting the Pac, I'm chilling out.
I've shoveled the snow, and I can hear the ramblings of Sean and his friend Will, who are playing some computer game...and have been since yesterday.
With Sean and Will both here, I decided to give my up room to them. So that has me in a room of a distant lifetime. Or a glass case of emotion.
With no TV, but of course, in modern-day times, if one has technology, one can survive nicely.
(Or read a book, but let's not lose the point.)
OK, I'm burying the lede (or lead - your call).
So onto Netflix I went. I looked around and came across a classic.
Jaws.
Which I've never totally seen.
And that embarrasses me.
I thought about why. For one, horror never did a thing for me. Until I read the great works of Susan whats-her-name, horror wasn't something I'd read. Like. Ever. It normally took friends to get me to watch a horror flick. So, sure. I've seen Freddie and Jason, etc. I remember having a sleepover at Jeff Terranova's house, circa 1984, and we watched...something.
We also watched Scarface. "Say hello to my little friend," indeed!
More than that, the movie came out in 1975. My siblings, assuming they saw it, were both teenagers, and they wouldn't have dragged their dopey little (six-year-old) brother.
Therefore, a combo of circumstances led us to this.
So let's grab out bigger boat, and jump in the water while listening to Olivia Newtown-John sing "I Honestly Love You!"
Incidentally, I did have the 45 (and still do) of Mr. Jaws. So I've got that.
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