Lax On, Lax Off

Gentlemen, practice is tonight @ 8pm on the turf field.  Brose bowl is back.

Also, I would like to pay tribute to a fallen teammate, friend, and fellow alcoholic Justin "Bromaster". At rugby practice yesterday Justin broke his tibia, some other bone, and tore 3 ligaments in his ankle.  He is due to go into surgery around now, and we wish him a quick and complete recovery from this tragic laxident.  Obviously he won't be playing for the rest of the season.  Let's stay after it, so we may say that he did not lax in vain, but for a more noble cause, the defense of our 5th amendment right, "the right to remain violent" on the field and our 3rd amendment right, "the right to show arms" on the hill.

God Bless America and no place else.

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Gentlemen, one of the most difficult tasks facing a laxer is the choice of a Sunday morning spoon. Yes, on and off the field you are always expected to carry yourself with a certain swagger. Yes, even if you can't catch and pass you still might get some undeserved lax cred for selecting from a portfolio of neons.  But certain colors, like neon green mesh with purple shooting strings, might just be the feather that broke your hangover's back when you are reminded of all the green jello shots and purple haze you smoked last night.  In fact, I dare say I recommend the old school approach to the Sunday morning spoon... possibly a full wood stick with a traditional pocket.  Who are you kidding, you probably won't be able to catch and pass in between spews,  so you might as well fuck up someone else's day with 10 pounds of American history.

Anyways, Freeman Center at noon.  Bring your jersey if you walked off with it after the game.

Love,

Gary

Subject: Care to Lax, Bro's? [sic]

Gents,

Spring is almost here.  That means a few things.  It could be time to start building a base at Sol Tanning Center, start stockpiling for 4/20 before prices get too high, or plant seeds with girls lacrosse players who will finally lose all the weight they put on in the fall/winter.  Indeed, second semester is a busy, busy time.

But more importantly, the spring marks the beginning of the club lacrosse season.

As the most exclusive and renowned team at the infamous Tech, we have a responsibility to lax at a high level, drink at a higher level, and look great while doing it.  If you like doing any of these things, it would be in your best interest to show up for our first informational meeting at Usdan this Friday. Room TBA.  Shirts mandatory since its Usdan, I apologize for any inconvenience this causes.

Love,

Gary

Humpday

Google the term "bromantic comedy." You'll find scores of writers using this phrase. So we're going to go ahead and assume that you agree that the comedic subgenre that Judd Apatow made incredibly popular is in fact a real trend. If you're still skeptical, go see Superbad, Pineapple Express, or, what some folks are calling bromantic comedy's "greatest height": I Love You, Man. Fools must not have seen Humpday.



Humpday is still playing in Seattle, where your boy here is from and where the film was shot (for dirt cheap) by local director Lynn Shelton. And yes, she is a woman. Is it playing in your town? Fuck if I know. But you ought to check, because the film was picked up (read: bought) by distributor Magnolia Pictures and is/was playing at major cities round the US. And if it isn't playing where you're at, stay vigilant for the DVD release.

For me, the main appeal of Humpday is that it achieves, and bests, what these in vogue bromantic comedies do - show, in a funny yet earnest way, the love that exists between bros. Whether or not the Judd Apatow comedies have helped bring about or are merely a reflection of this shift in mainstream masculine culture in the US, I would certainly argue that heterosexual man-love is increasingly acceptable to show and discuss publicly. Humpday takes this a step further, however, by directly addressing the homoerotic aspects of male relationships from the get-go.

The premise is that two old (straight) friends dare each other into making a gay porn together. Such a film would be, in their estimation, a work of art, but more important to the characters is asserting their masculinity by not pussing out of this big gay dare. Each guy tries to talk the other out of the dare, one has to tell his wife, a game of basketball descends into a wrestling match - it's all hilarious and believable. The film form aids this believability - the dialogue is almost entirely improvised, and the film is shot in a very raw cinema verite/documentary style. The characters, the situation, and the locations (houses of Shelton's friends) feel real. Real real.

The film is remarkable for the fact that it takes its premise and never lets it descend into a farce. It remains a believable and hilarious character study the whole way through, as our two protagonists attempt to pull off this porn in a desperate attempt to stave off growing old and stale. It's much more mature and just as funny as any of the Hollywood bromances. It makes you wonder: could you bone a straight friend? Is your aversion innate or culturally constructed? And if you did, would that even be art, or just a ludicrous dare?