The Grand Unifying Psychological Theory of Dennis Quaid Movies

Ok. No cheating now.

Name the first movie starring Dennis Quaid that comes to mind

Ok?

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Bala Cynwyd, PA

The advisor invited the entire lab to his annual Christmas party, which he promised me at Thanksgiving would be thoroughly Gatsbyesque, minus the dying in the swimming pool bit. This was a slight exaggeration -- there were not hundreds and hundreds of people in various states of inebriation, but there was enough food to last a reasonable-sized family till the following Christmas, so.

The first order of business for the evening was watching the Discovery fly heavenwards in a plume of fire, and then all rushing outside in the bitter cold to see if we could catch a glimpse of it (or Mars, Jupiter and Mercury, which are in some kind of weird alignment. I was going to link to an article but Google has betrayed me, and I would imagine people reading this would have heard.) Dr. SB (who is, I think, the second Australian I've met whom I really like) was extremely bitter as the neon countdown ticked down to zero, and for good reason -- she had actually been at the launch pad as a VIP when the thing was supposed to taken off a couple of days ago but didn't. I can't say I blame her. It's the kind of hair-tearing thing life usually reserves for me.

(The shuttle launch had an interesting significance for all of us, because had it blown up, my funding would have evaporated along with it, and I would not have been amused. It was a bit scary. NASA has a pretty impressive record of blowing people up.)

Then there was much partaking in beer and canapes and traditional peppermint cake, and appreciation of a professional piano player who claimed to be able to take any request, (except, apparently, for the very first one I wanted -- I Believe in Father Christmas -- which no one ever knows.) The company split into old, affluent people, and young, not-so-affluent people, and we sat around and spilled drinks on the embroidered carpets and ate too much ham. Oh, and I finally got to meet Dr. SB's husband, who works for Industrial Light and Magic, and is out in SF making lifelike tenatacles for Pirates of the Caribbean III: At World's End. Of course we had to know about that, so we heard a bit about how the sea monsters are animated and the scene where Johnny Depp comes back to life. And [SPOILER] which is significant in the second movie, because [SPOILER], and also that [SPOILER], because Geoffrey Rush is actually [SPOILER].

We were good enough not to ask for the ending though, so there.

Halfway through the evening, I started to make friends with the piano player, who is actually part-time piano tuner and part-time Congressional lobbyist. Or, he was telling porkies, which is more likely but less romantic. I got Lady Madonna, and Shall We Gather by the River, and O Little Town of Bethlehem in exchange for staying through a diatribe of Bush Sucks, and Iraq was the Biggest Mistake Ever. Oh, and I got to have the piano for 3 minutes so that I could play I Believe in Father Christmas for myself. A fair trade.

Jared and a couple of the lab people and I were thinking of going to Manayunk afterwards, but it got late, and no one really knew whether there were good bars in Manayunk, so we gave up and headed home and fantasised about double chocolate stout at Monk's. (Me: Why double? Nathan: Because there's lots of chocolate in it?). And then The Grand Unifying Psychological Theory of Dennis Quaid Movies occurred to me.

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If you named:

Traffic: You are a yuppie executive working in a big city making obscene amounts of money. You watch about 3 movies a year, and fancy yourself to be "gritty". You have a 95% chance of suffering a major depressive episode in the next year.

Dragonheart: You live at home with your mom, and will till you are 40. During this time, you will develop at least one (1) phobia and one (1) anxiety disorder, if you have not done so already.

Great Balls O' Fire!: You are hypomanic.

The Alamo: You are terminally unhip, and in constant denial of the fact. You go to social gatherings thinking you're the life of the party, whereas everyone else knows you're just an old sad fart.

Innerspace: You're a grad student.

The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia: Wha'?? You need some help, dude.