WHEN: 6:30pm EST, January 27th, 2012
WHERE: My apartment in Portland, ME (Isla Nublar)
FORMAT: Blu-Ray on a Vizio 32″ LED HDTV
PHYSICAL AND MENTAL STATE: Freshly showered, shirtless, eating pita chips, getting pumped to go clubbing with Cinemanaut Ty for Goth Night (every Friday!)
FOCUS OF THIS WEEK’S STUDY: The Effects of Top Gun on Sexual Confidence in the Human Male
REACTIONS OF NOTE:
- I was leaving Cinemanaut John a voicemail while I hit play. I read the text intro to the film aloud in a manly fashion. We’ll see if this inspired him to come out a-clubbin’ tonight.
- “Talk to me, Goose.” Maverick’s first line. It’s like poetry. They rhyme. But seriously, this is the first time I noticed that.
- “Do not fire until fired upon.” Seduction strategy for tonight?
- Cougar reminds me of how I actually am around women.
- Cougar is a real hero for knowing he’d let America down.
- Tonight I am ready to live my life between my legs.
- I really don’t see how “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin'” is a song for someone you just met.
- HIGHWAY TO THE SPOILER ZONE. If Goose had gone to truck driver school when he said he was thinking about it, he’d still be alive. But no time for negativity, for tonight, I dance.
- “Slider… you stink.” Made me do a pit check.
- I like Goose’s volleyball shorts.
- Called Ty about Goth Night at 7:13pm. We’re going at 9, and apparently there are going to be belly dancers performing. Ty is confident he’s getting laid. Hung up at 7:14pm.
- Mav should have pounced! Yeah, I’m in pouncing mode. But why doesn’t he pounce?
- I think a plane said “ID4” in the background. Don’t wanna rewind. There’s always next week.
- “Great Balls of Fire” feels like they’re trying to recapture the magic of the first group sing, but nobody’s heart’s really in it.
- This movie is sad. A bit too sad to pump me up right now. You can do it, Mav!
- The bullets look so goddamn cool whizzing past the jets.
- I want to look up exactly what happens when you fly in someone else’s jetwash. I want some science. But later. Right now, I want goth belly dancers.
- It should be noted that I watched Howard the Duck the night before this. Tim Robbins goes from being Maverick’s co-pilot to a duck’s co-pilot. Seriously. Howard was his very next movie after Top Gun.
“You’re gonna do WHAT?!”
- We’re at the end, and honestly, I’m not as pumped to dance with goth chicks as I thought I’d be. I think the sad is too sad. Am I not learning the lesson of this movie? Accidents happen and you move on. YOU MOVE ON. MOVE ON.
- FUCK YOU, END CREDITS. LET’S GO CRY ON GOTH CHICKS.
Okay, ladies and gentlemen, I’ve hit the spoiler wall. I know I’m well within the acceptable timeframe for spoiling a movie, but I just can’t talk about Top Gun in a spoiler-free context anymore. I need to spoil the spoilers that will spoil the movie for you. I guess what I’m trying to say is…
…and it is sad. It is so very sad. It’s like Dr. Green on E.R. Oh, sorry, have you seen that episode?
But back to Goose. I’ve heard Top Gun called an inspirational movie. Sure. I can buy that. Nevertheless, Goose’s death is a pretty big gut-punch. And I did not want to be gut-punched tonight. I wanted to mack on ladies.
But wait… goth ladies.
Your own personal Goose.
They’re, like, sad and junk, right? Mission accomplished, then.
I seriously had to have a moment after this viewing. I had to lay down and call Female Companion Becca into the room to talk about Goose. I wouldn’t make that up. We had a conversation about how watching Top Gun every week may be forming a strong bond between me and the characters, and even though I know it’s coming, losing Goose hurts now. It hurts. The blackness consumes me.
It’s shaking my nerves and rattling my brain.
So, like Maverick before me, I sucked it up. You can’t wallow in sadness forever. There’s no time for regret. It’s time to get drunk and dance like a jackass.
As soon as we picked Ty up, he was pretty hammered. We had the Top Gun soundtrack in the car, so we sang a little “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin'” and then gothed our goth asses to Goth Town.
Now, I started pounding the drinks right away, so my account of the night is certainly skewed, but damn, I went for it. The place was packed with ladies in black eyeliner and shiny, jingly belly dancer attire. Ty instantly started talking about how being a wingman works and trying to get me to think of Top Gun a thousand times, but you know what? That Glitch Mob remix of “Seven Nation Army” called my name.
I hit the dance floor. After three drinks. It always takes three drinks. I have to say it; my confidence was high. I don’t know where Top Gun fits into the equation, but I, like, actually danced with ladies I didn’t know. I typically head out with a few friends, but I never break away. I did that night. And maybe it was dark and the rum was in my eyes, but I think everybody was diggin’ me. I’m not delusional… they absolutely left with darker, brooding-er studded-belt-wearing fellows, but in the moment, we were one.
Oh, also, John never showed up.
“I will not be joining you this evening.”
As I often do, I decided that dancing was enough tonight and didn’t make any big passes, because Becca will always sleep with me. Still, I collected some data. I took more risks than I ever have at a club, and I was rewarded with some dance partners. If that seems like a pretty lame result to be considered positive, I direct you to the Number of Chins Contest Tom Cruise and I had a while back.
The winner and still champion…
Now, obviously, Fake Science. This was one time. If anything, I need to do this again, probably without booze or my girlfriend. (She’s always showing up when I try to get laid, that pesky minx.) Plus, I’m the one experimenting on myself and collecting my own data. This affects results. What may have inspired me to take risks was the fact that I was looking to study my ability to take risks. Also, I need to compile a list of other movies to watch before heading to the club. I’m thinking Requiem for a Dream and Heavyweights.