In which I blow my nose endlessly and still fail to ease the congestion

I have been ill. Bloody buggery bastardry, I have been ill.
This has its advantages, of course. I got two days off work to sit and talk to new friends on msn and Facebook for instance.
I also watched a small cache of shitty and totally gay (in both the way the young people use it and the way the homos use it) movies.
The least satisfying was a highly stylised Spanish language coming-of-age film called Glue, which wasn't so nearly as homoerotic as promised on the box but was still vaguely more interesting than trying to teach the dog braille... which was also on my list of stupid sick day ideas to amuse myself.
I watched Blood Diamond. The Leonardo DiCaprio film everyone else has already seen. I've been to the bloated underbelly of the African continent. I love it. But that bloody accent. I'm sorry but all white Africans are evil. That accent will never allow me to believe otherwise.
I watched also The Book Of Revelation. No one has ever wanted to watch it with me so I've let it slip through to the keeper. I'm a big Tom Long fan, and a fan of dance, so this combined the two a bit. It didn't enjoy it terribly. The dancing was dreadful and very badly filmed. And if you were watching for the sex you'd be disappointed, too. The story telling was quite intense though, so if I was to go all Margaret and David on this films ass I would say it was good.
A word of caution: High School Musical 2 will induce homicidal tendencies in even the most vapid movie-goer. I, who is well not vapid, want to see Zac Efron bleed. Not in a gay way. In a very very unpleasant, icky-in-your-pants kind of way.
(They are different).
The most promising of all is a film I have sitting here called The Marine. It stars someone called John Cena, who is self-evidently big everywhere but apparently also big in wrestling circles. When a DVD box proclaims wildly "starring WWE champion John Cena"... you know that's going to contain F Scott Fitzgerald's prose, Dickensian characterisations and Austenesque witticisms.
John Cena plays John Triton. Which would have made life easier for both the director and Mr Cena on set, I should imagine.
So listen to this pitch on back of the case...
"WWE CHAMPION JOHN CENA dominates the big screen as marine John Triton. Wherever there is danger, Triton is usually smack-dab in the middle of it... and he doesn't play by the rules! After he's unwittingly discharged (wtf?) from Iraq, Triton's beautiful wife Kate is kidnapped (can't wait to see how this is linked) by merciless jewel thieves (oh puh-leeze) led by a vicious killer (nice twist, good... go on, please...). Now Triton must fight to save her, utilising his most powerful weapon - himself! (I see now why they named him after a work bench)."
I am sitting here spastically excited, dripping with anticipation.