You know that I will settle for nothing short of greatness, or I will die trying.

My mom was pregnant with me when she saw Alien. I imagine at some point she wondered if the being  inside of her was going to burst out of her stomach and start attacking everyone's face. Fortunately, no. Well, not quite. I destroy humanity by pointless rambling and typos. Anyway, last night, in the midst of a minor storm in South Carolina, my older brother and I tried to coax our mother to go to the movies with us to see the origin story of those famous creatures. Despite raising four boys (and a girl) my mom replied, I don't like monsters. 

If only the poster could make that screaming/siren sound from the trailers.

Ah, Prometheus. I wanted to love you so much. I wanted you to be the best thing ever. I wouldn't classify my feelings as disappointment, no, just not what I'd hoped for.  Probably the way my mom would describe most of her kids, oddly enough.

I had avoided reviews (and essentially, the internet) the way a biologist avoids slippery, white alien beings. Wait, like he should have avoided them, for the week leading up to the release of Ridley Scott's latest. The ultra-effective previews were the main culprit, as you couldn't turn on the television without seeing one of the kickass trailers.

Real quick. My excitement did get kicked in the nuts when Coors Light and the NBA Playoffs (on ESPN) were being tied into Prometheus. Apparently, nothing says outer space alien origin story like Lebron James and beer that tells you when its cold. Although overrated and nonsensical do sort of correlate.