The hardest part to deal with is the silence.

I was never Andy from Toy Story. When I played with my toys, I used very little of my imagination. I would try to recreate scenes from the cartoons or movies, hell, maybe even the commercials themselves. But I never crossed streams, never mixed genres. Even when allegedly having fun, I wanted things to be authentic. He-Man never fought Optimus Prime. The dudes from M.A.S.K. never tangled with the Turtles. Those kind of battles would never happen and were ridiculous. I mean, what's next, Godzilla fighting Voltron?

I don't know why, but I just want to yell Roooooobot Jox!

I didn't even have to see a preview to know that I needed to see Pacific Rim. If I remember correctly, when I asked for a plot summary, I believe a certain husky-eyed friend of mind placed his hands on my shoulders and bore his eyes directly into my soul. Dude, he said. It's f--king robots, fighting f--king monsters. So, we're seeing it in 3D, right?

Months later, there we were. 3D, IMAX - the whole bit. And while he left with noticeable back sweat (true story), I left pleased, if slightly underwhelmed. And no, I just checked. There's no vagina down there. Promise.

Look, whenever a giant-ass robot is fighting a giant-ass monster, I was all in. Even leaning forward. But for the other half of the movie, the parts where people are talking about their feelings and explaining their actions, I kept all of my f--ks, relinquished none. Outside of some of the best action sequences I have ever seen, the whole thing reminded me of a less-ridiculous Independence Day. Seriously, it's basically the same story, except Will Smith is now a handsome white guy and Bill Pullman is now a handsome black guy. And instead of the sexy rack of Vivica A Fox, we get the unholy face of Ron Perlman. Though I love that guy so much that might be an upgrade, honestly.