The Softer Side of Babeled

It’s been a long day for us Babelers. We’ve been broken up, beaten down and flat out abused. Blogging can be tough sometimes. Especially when you roll Babeled On style. All we wanna do is curl up on the couch, watch a flick and have a good cry. But picking the right one can be the most heart breaking part of it all.

Don’t cry for me, cry for my soul…

Gentlemen, start your sniffling.

Greg Molyneux

I promised myself I wouldn’t cry — in public.

Favorite chick flick you say. Wow Jeff, bringing out the softer side. I have seen quite a few along the way, to varying degrees of enjoyment and emasculation; neither of which being mutually exclusive. But since we are going to turn this Babeled On into a bastardized version of The View I might as well completely embarrass myself and place Swept Away at the very top of my list.

For those of you that don’t know, which is hopefully everyone reading this, Swept Away is a film starring England’s very own Madonna (take your hands out of your pants Andrew). That admission right there should be humiliating in and of itself, but no, my story gets oh so much worse. By the time this little tropical tryst concluded I was balling my eyes out. And like Jacques from Finding Nemo, I am ashamed.

I’d like to say I watched this movie with my girlfriend, but no, it was all me. My once better half was upstairs tending to various forms of business, none of which involved another girl and a cup, when I found myself sucked into this afternoon HBO matinee. I don’t know what happened from there, but it was like I couldn’t help myself, I had to keep watching and watching and… watching. It was the perfect storm of bad decision making – it was a cry for help.

By the end, when I was positive Madonna and her insert foreign boyfriend here were going to steal away and live happy ever after, the bomb dropped. She left. Foreign dude was left running down the dock, ring in hand, as the helicopter flew away carrying Madonna and her piece of shit husband with that smarmy look upon his face… Here and now the flood gates were open, the estrogen was pumping, and my hopes and dreams destroyed. Once again the nice guy finished last and the rich bastard got away with the prize. But hey, it’s only a movie right?

At this point the movie was finished, my breakdown was not. I was left with rolling credits and a German girlfriend looking upon me with priceless incredulity. It was a sight to behold.

Andrew Blanco

My favorite chick flick is West Side Story.

I’m a sucker for the story line: Tony, a young American trying to get off the streets and better his life, falls in love with Maria, a beautiful Latina whose family is involved in a rival street gang. Their love is misunderstood by everyone, and in the end this misunderstanding sends their relationship spiraling toward a violent and tragic end.

What really makes this modern take on Romeo & Juliet so outstanding is the music. The songs are phenomenal and perfectly capture the sense of tragic cursed love that surrounds Tony and Maria’s star-crossed relationship. What makes this my favorite chick-flick is that it’s one of the only movies that has ever made me cry (yeah that’s right I said it)…well, besides Undercover Brother – but those were tears of amazement after having witnessed the genius of the 4th greatest movie ever made!

Greg Rineberg

My favorite chick flick, eh? Well I honestly can’t say that anything comes to mind. I was forced to watch The Notebook several months ago, but it was far from a good movie and I definitely didn’t shed a single tear. The last time I can remember having a good cry while watching a movie was when I was like eight years old and I went to see the movie, The Bear, where I was crying aloud throughout the theater. Talk about an embarrassing moment . . .

Jason Morgan

I broke the rules and talked to another Babeler about this topic. Here’s how the conversation (sort of) went:

Me: Jeff put out another good topic. Not really sure what to say yet, but definitely has the potential for some good responses.

Greg M: Yeah, definitely a good topic. I’ve got something that is perfect for this one. I was bawling my eyes out at the end.

Me: Nice. I can’t really think of the last chick flick I saw. (Pause) What about that one with Seth Rogen and the chick from Grey’s Anatomy?

Greg M: Whaaaaa-haaat?! You mean Knocked Up? Dude, that is NOT a chick flick. It’s a pretty awesome comedy, but I don’t think it qualifies as a chick flick – AT ALL.

Me: Oh. Shit.

Nice try by me? Nope, not even close.

I am blessed with a wife who isn’t that into chick flicks. Not to say that she doesn’t want to see any of them, but even if she does she will watch them On Demand (hate you Comcast!!). And if she watches them On Demand, she tries to do it when I am not home. Seriously, how jealous are you guys right now? I’d be jealous of me if I wasn’t me…

OK, so I guess I need to figure out an actual response instead of dodging the question. This one is going to get me in trouble at home, so I hope you appreciate my honesty!! One day I was at home while my wife was at work, doing some things around the house with the TV on for some background noise. It just so happened that The Devil Wears Prada was on, a movie that my wife had been wanting to see but I clearly refused. I went to pick up the remote to change the channel for some Discovery-channel nerdom, when I was somehow locked in by the movie’s tractor beam. The next thing I know, two hours had gone by and I watched damn near the entire movie. And now, because of this Babeled On, I am going to be forced to watch it again, this time with my wife, or else I will be a gelding the next time we meet.

Next up: Jay