Fast & Furious 6. Things just got real in here. The first thing Warren and I did when we got back from Morocco Monday night was get violently ill (I should say that was the first thing I did). The second thing we did was immerse ourselves back into American culture the only way we knew how: Fast 6. It beckoned like a beacon of steroid packing light. And it was so very right.
My favorite film genre is lodged somewhere between Ridiculous and Ridonculous, which is why action movies sit at the tippy-top of my movie-loving pyramid. It all stems from a childhood replete with Robocob, Rambo, and Terminator, all recorded off the TV and watched ad infinitum until the VHS tapes ran ragged.
Fast 6 had fast cars, fast fists, and fast quips--in short, it was glorious. Everything from the biceps that bulged larger than Warren's face and the gravity-defying leaps across bridges went against the laws of nature and for that I give it five impossible thumbs up. Fast 7, here we come!
I can't wait to share photos from our nomadic adventures with you, dear reader, and I hope that you'll indulge me, just as you indulged this ridiculous post about cars, biceps, and Dwayne Johnson. Sometimes it just has to be done.