Confession #1: I like Chick Flicks

"Confessions" are a new series from FCN in which readers submit or the FCN staff write secret or private confessions for the amusement of others. Like other confession driven writing enterprises, the author of the confession will remain anonymous. Unlike other confession driven writing enterprises, the truth of the confession will not be guaranteed or even supposed.

If you have a confession for the faithful FCN few, send it in to us at FunnyClassNotes -at- gmail -dot- com

Confession #1: I like Chick Flicks

I'm a guy. I'm a shade under six feet tall and athletic. I have a pretty deep voice and I know how to talk tough. I don't flinch very often and I can't stand sissies. That's why it's ironic that I like chick flicks.

Guys are supposed to appreciate the "art" of dramatic gun, grimace and go home flicks, a genre generally labeled as "action movies." We men are supposed to be disgusted at the simple plots, thin acting and male pansies who adorn the screen of so-called "date movies." We are supposed to roll our eyes when our female friends talk about the latest Lindsay Lohan, Charlize Theron or Mandy Moore production; we aren't supposed to appreciate the clichéd acting of Kate Winslet or get excited at the thought of a movie with Cameron Diaz.

I break the mold. I thought John Tucker Must Die was an absolute delight of a film. I thoroughly enjoyed The Holiday and thought Mean Girls was one of Lohan's better productions although Just My Luck gave it a run for its money; Bridget Jone's Diary left me panting and Something's Gotta Give was so sweet; The English Patient was slow, but worth it and Titantic, oh, Titanic!

The Horse Whisperer was one of Robert Redford's better performances; You've Got Mail was the highlight of Tom Hank's career and was a perfect showcase for Meg Ryan; The Beach House had me spinning until the end; and one line brings back all the happy memories of Truly, Madly, Deeply: "I really, truly, madly, passionately, remarkably, deliciously... juicily love you...." Oh yeah!.

Don't get me wrong; Rogers and Hammerstein is a bit much and kiddie movies don't do the trick. Some musicals are excellent, others are too slow to justify the viewing and I outgrew Anne Hatheway years ago.

As a rule of thumb, if it's on Lifetime or O!, I will probably appreciate it. Like any genre, it needs to be done well; I didn't confess to liking cheap movies, just chick flicks.

(As an aside, I just realized it took me about three minutes to write the above four paragraphs. That's how conversant I am in chick flicks. Ask me any question about the genre; I can probably answer it).

It's not that I don't like action movies - the Die Hard series was excellent and Jason Bourne is still my man crush - it's just that I also appreciate the tender films. That's my confession.

EDIT: Thanks to an email from a concerned reader for the reminder, I should note that none of the above referenced movies come with the FCN endorsement. In order to garner the requisite knowledge about the films, we are sure our author viewed the Clean Films version or closed his eyes during the inappropriate sequences.

A Short Essay In Defense of the Common Viking

Note: This post was written by the viking in the CN staff. It is his plea for respect in a world of blondes and brunettes. If you do decide to leave a comment, make sure it's respectful; the viking is looking a tad Berserkish as he sharpens his horns.

Of all the misunderstood peoples in the history of the world, the common viking falls squarely at the top of the list. No group is more maligned, more persecuted or more snowed. Why is it that the Vikings were banished to the frozen north? Why is it that both vikings and devils have horns? Why are vikings caricatured as ridiculous looking Kirk Douglas clones, while Al Sharpton and his dead beaver escape without scratch or snip? It's apparent that that our culture suffers severely from vikophobia which means, according to Blacks Law Dictionary, an "irrational fear of vikings, those with common viking-like characteristics or both."

Clearly we have a bias against vikings and people with bad hairdos. Or did I just repeat myself? Some historians have speculated that the paltry hair is due to the tight hats and salty air which combines to form a concrete gel and produces a nasty case of horn hair. Other, more snide commentators, attribute ratty tops it to genetics.

Your history teacher may have told you that Norsemen were all vicious pillagers who killed innocent people. But historically, that isn't a fair characterization. Some of the vikings had to stay home and cook.

Even more unfair is the belief that Columbus discovered the New World - a belief that grants the viking no greater achievement than his pillaging exploits. But how do you think Leif Ericsson must have felt when Columbus took credit for all of his hard work? It's not every day that people discover new continents. Even more mocking is the fact that Columbus' wikipedia article is three times times the length of Leaf's. There oughta be a scandal!

Many people view vikings as smelly, rude, uncivilized brutes. Yet another example of unjustified vikophobia. While there were many Norsemen who were smelly, rude, and possibly uncivilized, it is not nice to call them names, such as "brutes." Those who refer to the Norsemen in such a manner are clearly paranoid, and paranoid beyond reason. This brings me to my plea.

After looking at these tragic examples of biasness and injustice, it is clear that our culture needs a wake-up call. We can no longer abuse and scorn the men from the north. So what can we do to help? First, we must tell others the truth - speak to our friends, family, and as the case may be, even our enemies. Second, we must write our local politicians and ask them to stop people who propagate viking myths, like Dik Browne and Big Idea.

Vikings are people too! Only once we defend the common viking, will the Norseman be free.

I'm not a real Statesman, but I play one on TV...

Fred Thompson?

Part the Fifth: She has a 'crush' on you

A continuation of previous 'crush' episodes...

I accumulated the nerve. It took a long time, some serious counseling with my male friends and a little Red Bull, but I picked up my shellular phone and pressed the appropriate speed dial button to call Luce. I'd only called her a couple of times - certainly not often enough to deserve one of my nine prized speed dial buttons - but with some people you want the facility of dialing to be so pronounced that you haven't a chance to think twice.

As the phone rang, I began to think that maybe I should have thought better. I thought twice about thinking twice. My mind raced with questions as difficult to answer as they were relevant. What should I say? Why was I calling? Why should Luce care? What if she told me to go moon myself? What does it mean to moon oneself? Is that even appropriate?

I wished for a piece of paper just so I could scribble or make a snazzy notation or do something intelligent. Absent a writing utensil, my hands were left to tremble, exposed. Like an Alfred Hitchcock movie. My throat felt dry and clearing it made an unmanly gulping sound. I made a mental note not do do that while talking with Luce.

I heard a clicking sound, like someone picking up the line and then, with a background of several voices forming a cacophony like that of a party or other large gathering, I heard Luce's voice.

"Hello?" Boy, it was good to hear her voice again.

"Hey, Luce, it's me. You know, the guy, well, the guy you have a crush on." I scrunched my face in frustration. That was lame! Maybe I should start writing for the next Lindsay Lohan movie. My dialogue skills had to improve if I wanted to get anywhere. The guys around me shook their heads. Move on! "Anyway, I --"

"Wait, I can't hear you, let me move away..." Luce interrupted me, and I heard the voices in the background fade away. "You were saying?"

Grateful for the chance at redemption and eager to show Luce that I could conversate without making myself into a total beast of burden, I began again.

"Hey Luce, it's me, the guy from school. We went out and it didn't go so well, remember?" More scrunching. More shaking. Why did I have to bring that up?

"My reception here is awful. I've got, like, no bars. Say again?"

Sigh of grateful providence! Another chance.

"Luce? Luce?" I waited for an answer. After a fair pause I thought maybe the call had been dropped. Only a trace remnant of background voices kept me from hanging up and redialing. Then I heard Luce's voice again.

"You've just been punked. Leave a message at the tone."

The beep of her voicemail was like a buzzer on a bad game show. What did it mean to be punked? Was it an overt reference to "punk" rock or "punk" fashion or maybe something Ashton Kutcher would think up? I may not have known what a "punked" was, but I knew it hurt to be punked.

My fumblings continued despite the fact that the voicemail was now recording. For all of you who have never witnessed me thinking - which is probably all of the faithful few, especially those of you who know me best - when I am pensing through difficult questions, I tend to make unpremediated mumbling sounds, like a culinary connaisseur at a buffet line.

I stopped the involuntary thinking noises and left a message:

"Hey Luce, it's me, the guy you have a crush on. Well, used to have a crush on before you blew your top in the restaurant. But we're cool, right? Well maybe? Like Brad and Jen? Anyway, I'm calling to see if you want to go out again, with me. I mean, you probably want to go out again - I didn't scare you that badly, did I? - but would you deign to go with me? I promise not to lecture you or look dumb, although it will be hard, because looking dumb is what I do best: I get paid to do it at work and it's state of nature at school. Um. [EXTENDED PAUSE] Anyway, I thought we could go to the movies, just you and me. It would be a date. Not a friend date, but a romantic one. Like, a guy and a girl going to the movies together so they can sit next to each other for two and a half hours but never have to make conversation. Does that sound terribly incongruous or do you think you could swing it? You have my number, please call me."

My male advisors who were listening in as I left the message, making emphatic hand gestures I'm sure they thought were helpful, rushed to give me feedback the moment I hung up.

"OK, solid, a little sappy, but solid."

"Dude, what were you thinking with the 'Um...' routine? There's no way she'll get that!"

"Really nerdy."

"Ouch."

"Next time, just leave your number."

Luce called back a few minutes later and said she loved the message. I stuck my tongue out at the guys and figured they were just jealous because none of them have been on a date since Chuck Heston became president of the NRA.

We're on. Our date will be at the theater next week. We are catching the Bourne Ultimatum premier, and I am more than a little nervous. I'm nervous about Luce, too.

Anatomy of a Scandal

Meet Mike. Mike is an amateur wrestler. Mike doesn't do the crazed, pre-determined, "give him an Oscar" type of wrestling that comes on the TV after the FCC regulators go to bed; he competes internationally in referred Grecco-Roman bouts. As a competitor in an amateur sport, Mike doesn't win money for his victories, but he has a couple of small sponsorships that allow him to live comfortably while spending his days lifting weights and training with a coach.

Mike has been blessed with a lot of wrestling success. He wasn't always the fastest or strongest in the ring, but the last couple of years had seen him win some major international competitions. Mike is a strong fundamental wrestler and his work ethic makes him a difficult opponent.

Mike was gaining a following and many people watched his sport, just to see him. A few months ago, Mike did a Nike commercial and put on a cream mustache for full page "Got Milk?" spread in Sports Illustrated. Mike was even in talks with McDonalds to be the franchise's main spokesperson. He was invited to several late night talk shows, including Jay Leno and Bill Maher to crack a few jokes and peddle his next bout. He was recognized as the face of Greco-Roman wrestling.

Then something went wrong.

A blood test showed that Mike had elevated testosterone levels. An investigation by the International Olympic Committee (IOC) revealed a connection between Mike and a Mexican pharmaceutical company - a company who's main product is anabolic steroids. The test was inconclusive and the connection weak, but Nike pulled its commercial and Mike got his name in bold font in a front page story in the New York Times.

Sports radio picked up on the news quickly. Within four hours of the IOC's press conference, commentators were taking sides. Some argued that Mike's predicament was the sad but inevitable result of a sport culture hellbent on performance. Others said that Greco-Roman wrestling needed something like this in the age of WWE. A distinct minority urged caution, noting that the evidence was weak and Mike's innocence was to be presumed until proven otherwise.

At the request of the IOC, Mike submitted more blood samples. The results from those tests would be available within a week.

CNN broadcast an investigatory news piece on the use of steroids by amateur wrestlers at a high school in Washington Park, North Carolina, Mike's hometown. Oversized youths who had really hurt themselves with performance enhancing pills sat down in front of the harsh lights of CNN news crews to tell their sad stories. Wolf Blitzer made a comment about the importance of good role models and CNN received over a thousand emails voicing disapproval against Mike. Some of those emails were read on the air.

George Bedard, the District Attorney of Beaufort County North Carolina issued a statement saying he would not rest until justice was done in the "Wrestling Scandal." His office filed criminal charges against Mike alleging tax evasion and money laundering, both in connection with his steroid use. Bedard admitted that he had "very little" evidence to support his claim, but promised more would surface during the course of the trial.

Jorge Sedano made a disparaging comment about rednecks, in connection with Mike and was suspended from his radio program by Fox.

Katie Couric led off her CBS broadcast with a segment on Mike that showed archive footage of him lifting weights and drinking a protein beverage that looked suspiciously large.

Matt Lauer had a sit down interview with Mike on the Today Show in which Mike categorically denied any knowing steroid use. Matt pressed on the meaning of "knowing," and asked Mike to apologize to his fans, but both requests were denied by Mike "on the advice of his lawyer."

The New York Times, the first print publication to break the steroid scandal news, published an article criticizing all the media attention Mike was getting and urging the media to "let him settle his demons alone."

Tim Montgomery and Floyd Landis were guests on ESPN television to talk about what it feels like to be investigated for steroids. Both had encouraging words for Mike.

George Clooney began a three medium campaign, spanning radio, television and print, against amateur steroid use. Mike never consented to having his image used in the campaign, but Clooney used it anyway.

Micheal J. Fox made a YouTube video calling Mike selfish.

Barack Obama pledged to regulate steroid access more closely if he became President.

Hillary Clinton followed suit, keeping her campaign in step with Obama's. Political observers pointed out the strength of this move to position herself for Vice President.

Press secretary Tony Snow said the White House had no comment on Mike's situation.

Doug Brandow of the Cato Institute warned against government intervention in organized sports.

Jorge Sedano was reinstated, but only after a sincere apology to Mike and the addition of 30 seconds to his broadcast delay.

Though pressed for more evidence in Mike's case, District Attorney Bedard was unable to produce more material.

Phillip Dunhert, the Attorney General of North Carolina, began an investigation into Bedard's handling of Mike's steroid allegations.

Mike's second blood test came back negative, meaning that no trace of steroids were found in his system.

The IOC cleared Mike for competition.

The IOC discovered a cataloging error in its blood lab and noted that the original positive sample actually belonged to Eric, one of Mike's opponents.

Eric was suspended from competition pending an investigation into his positive blood sample.

George Bedard was suspended from his position as District Attorney and the state dropped all charges against Mike.

Mike competed for several more years in Greco-Roman wrestling and he even won a few more international meets. He never failed another drug test, but Nike never offered him back his sponsorship and the talks with McDonald's came to an abrupt end. And while Mike never did take steroids, a Gallup poll reveals that 65% of Americans strongly believe he did.