I'm a man, and I tend not to make excuses for my actions. But I do have an explanation for why I received The Tale of Despereaux on Netflix. You know, the CGI movie about a mouse saving a princess. That's right, go ahead and judge me.
You see, I'm single. But that doesn't mean I don't hang out with girls all the time. I like to keep some movies on my queue just in case a special lady wants to watch a DVD at the Smash Pad (my place).
Now I've got a healthy stock of movies for these occasions on my queue: Marie Antoinette (if the girl is pretentious), The Ring (if she's into serial killers or likes to cuddle) and stuff like Happy Feet (if she just finished middle school).
And truth be told, I thought I was going to have a special lady friend over, and I thought she was the cartoon mouse type. Well, the plan fell through and I didn't check my Netflix account for a few days. Low and behold, Despereaux landed in my mailbox.
To my surprise, the girl I hung out with wanted to see Avatar instead of some rodent flick. Sweet. I like it when I'm wrong.
So Despereaux just sat around my coffee table for a few days. I didn't want it to hog up a spot on my queue, but I also didn't want to send it in without watching it. So I gave it a gander.
And you know what? That little big-eared mouse was incredibly charming. I enjoyed that movie. Not as much as Avatar. Not as much as Fight Club. Not as much as Backdoor Sluts Go Nuts: Part VI. But I enjoyed it. You know, it was like interesting research for the next time I want to bang a girl.
Ah, who am I kidding?
This whole thing has been bullshit.
There wasn't a girl. There's no chick portion on my queue. I just rented the movie because I wanted to see it. There, I admitted it. I wanted adventure. I wanted a cutesy hero. I wanted a heartwarming story. I wanted to see The Tale of Despereaux on my own accord.
I am no man. I am a boy-child. Unleash the hounds.