Team America

I've never considered myself particularly patriotic. I'm not a communist or anything, but you wouldn't catch me waving any flags around, either. Since it's been a while since I've lived abroad, I totally forgot how pro-America being far away can make me. I forgot, that is, until I discovered the Starbucks in Balikpapan [a city three hours to the South of me]. I looked at the breakfast above and I felt so HAPPY. I sank into my chair and listened to the smooth jazz coming through the speakers and I felt even HAPPIER. I'm pretty sure that was the best Caramel Machiatto I ever drank. So what gives? Aren't I suppose to be cooler than this? I read The Onion. Sometimes, I even get all smart and read Mother Jones. I also watch Michael Moore documentaries. I like them. So why am I so blissed out sitting in a Starbucks, a place I would avoid in my own neighborhood, after not even a month out of the country? Maybe, after all is said and done, I'm just an Ugly American. Maybe I should be a little more honest and start wearing a pair of sweats and a fanny pack.

So what did I do after this to prove how I'm not about to start singing "The Star Spangled Banner" and how above the comforts of home I am? I went to go see the Expendables. I loved it. However, I challenge any of you to not love a movie that has a lot of good old-fashioned ass kicking and stars Rocky Balboa, the British dude from the Transporter, Jet Li, the first Mr. Demi Moore, The Governator, the buff dude who keeps trying to bone one of the Wayans brothers in White Chicks, the Russian guy from Rocky IV, AND Mickey Rourke as a soul searching, tattoo artist. If you didn't love it, you're probably a communist.