There are two things I don't understand. Well, actually, there are a LOT of things I don't understand, but for today, there are two.
One. Why is it that I can rip out wall to wall carpeting from a 12x15 room, complete with carpet pad, pry off baseboards more or less intact, remove the outer perimeter of those EVIL carpet tack strips, paint the uncovered walls, clean the subflooring, and lay fake hardwood floor strips in above mentioned 12x15 foot room all with only some minor muscle aches yet I can't hammer more than four hammer strokes to replace above mentioned baseboards without excruiating pain in my "bad" elbow?
I hate not being able to do something because of my stupid genetically inferior joints. Really.
Two. Disaster movies. Is it required that they all have A.) Misunderstood scientist who is estranged from some family member. B.) Evil politician guy who has: C.) Evil scientist guy in previously mentioned politician's pocket. D.) Estranged family member working for B & C and E.) Pissed off mayor/governor/president. Oh, and let's not forget F.) the disaster stuff.
And of course, A and D must reconcile at the end when they and they alone survive the total distruction of the known universe when the little doggie that they saved when the sun exploded (who is really an alien sent down to observe the planet) jumps in front of the meteor and sacrifices himself so that they might live.
No, wait, that's Smallville.