I went to see Harry Potter 7 on Friday night in HD IMAX, and, like the first half of the seventh book (my LEAST favorite of the books) nothing happened. I'll give the director props for making the movie quite dark and I only looked at my watch once which means for the most part my attention was held. However, I discovered something about myself that night that will affect every movie going experience I have for the rest of my life: I am the bane of movie goers everywhere.
Before I continue, let me explain something about myself: I have an oral fixation. Yeah, yeah, make all of the jokes you want, get it out of your system: 'I'll give you something to stick in your mouth' ':0' '90% of white girls can't open their mouths without showing their teeth' (Booya! got you!). With that said, I chew gum like it is my job. I shop for gum at BJs and/or Costco, and when they run out, I buy two packs of gum a day. I put the gum in my mouth, chew, spit. New gum, chew spit: all within a minute. So usually throughout the movie, I will be continuously going into my purse and grabbing a new piece (usually in one of those foil packages of course). But this particular HP7 viewing was different: this time I came in with a different arsenal.
My allergy to dairy severely limits my movie going treats because I can't have normal movie theatre popcorn or candy or ice cream or pretzels; so when I went to the store and saw sugar free CHOCOLATE flavoured candy, I was all over it like fat kid and candy (Hmmm). And I took these with me...and of course they were wrapped in that annoying plastic like the new Sun Chips bag that has recently been pulled off of the market in the next year. AND I also just HAVE to chew it because GOD FORBID the candy should be taken from my mouth before I have a chance to finish it. Realizing that I didn't savor the taste, a reach into the loud plastic bag in my purse, take out another one, suck, chew, and etc the cycle continues.
Yes, I am that person who is noisy throughout the whole movie but be thankful that I have now caught the err of my ways and the fact that I am not any of these people that I have had the opportunity of sitting in front of (always in front of, I don't know why)
1) What: The cell phone. Movie: Every movie. Details: Self-explanatory
2) What: Crying baby. Movie: Star Wars Episode 2. Details: WHO THE FUCK BRINGS A TWO MONTH OLD BABY TO SEE STAR WARS WHICH IS FULL OF LOUD NOISES, LASER GUNS GOING OFF, FIGHTING, AND SHITTY ACTING ALL OF WHICH BABIES HATE!!!!!!!!! My dad turned around after this one and called them out on their bad parenting skills. Their reply: "He's sick, we couldn't just leave him home." This brings up many concerns the most important being that they should have stayed home. Another important one: Would they have left the child home if it was healthy?
3) What: Whooping Cough. Movie: Anyone that allows people to sip beverages. Details: Instead of swallowing especially if it appears some sort of funny part or scary part is coming up, spit it out in front of you.
4) What: Getting spit on. Movie: Beerfest. Details: First date. Date comes drunk. Drunk=movie funny. Drunk=keep drinking to stay drunk. Keeping drinking=wet right half of the body. Result=9.5 month relationship. Please disregard advice from above.
5) (my favourite) What: Personal deli. Movie: Planet of the Apes. Details: I went with my neighbor and her family to this one (back when I could eat Raisinets I actually dumped them all over the place as loudly as I could during the most tense part of the movie. I don't remember what that was, but does anyone remember the remake?). Five minutes into the movie, we hear some crinkling of a paper bag opening. A minute later, the smell of pepperoni and cheese came wafting our wave. "Pete. Pete! Do you need some more pepperoni?!" "Stella, give me the provolone. No, not the mild, the sharp. The sharp!" You probably don't believe me...but this went on for two hours...or a lifetime depending on if you liked the movie or not.
20101129
20101126
Thanksgiving Day Recap: The Cute, The Bad, The Ugly, and The Downright Embarrassing
As I write, I'm in the process of watching The Count of Monte Cristo; or more aptly, listening to English accents even though it takes place in France, and listening to the man who plays Jacopo (YAK-a-POE, a Portuguese character) try to cover his Ebonics accent. Lovely.
Getting on to business, like many, yesterday was Thanksgiving, and, like many, I ate the usual fare. I didn't gorge myself this time (another story) and I was lucky to be able to fill my plate with the staples: some turkey and tons of cranberry sauce and green beans. No bread for me: green beans. And after dinner I ate some scorching hot apple pie, courtesy of my microwave skills. But the important parts of Thanksgiving are what occurred in between the dinner, the football games, the drunken banter (me), and playing pool. I'll keep this short and sweet because I'm sure everyone is feeling the affects of a drunken Thanksgiving. No? Just me? Awkward....
I'll start with "the cute":
So there's a new kid in the family, I'll call him "Guillaume" in the spirit of Monte Cristo. Yeah, he was there, and yeah he's cute, if you like babies that sit there and do nothing but smile. I'm sick and tired of hearing the family say that he should try out for the Gerber baby and blah blah blah. He didn't even eat his food! He did not show the Thanksgiving spirit! And at 8 months I was already walking. So there.
The Bad:
My mother. We were playing billiards. I was winning. I step out for one minute to cut a sliver of pumpkin pie (a sliver, 1/4 of the pie, same thing...but really only a sliver, dairy allergy makes me keep it to a minimum :( ) <- there is no good way to make that.... As I am cutting my piece, my mother "gets two". I'm so flabbergasted that my own flesh and blood would cheat that I lose the game.
The Ugly:
I found myself talking about dentures for quite a long time. I don't know how it happened, why it happened, and why I continued the conversation, but what I've learned is that I should never get dentures because a)they fall out, b)they smell, c)they aren't the same thing as real teeth (no shit). BUT if I did ever end up getting them, I could always dip them in my coffee. Yeah...
Another ugly, I was forced to eat rutabaga (in lieu of mashed potatoes) which I'm not knocking rutabaga, in fact I prefer cauliflower mashed potatoes instead of mashed potatoes, or sweet potatoes. Still with me? So anyway, I told my aunt's husband (they've been married a year, both of them are a little crazy, not sure if that really makes him my uncle) that I couldn't have any because there was butter in it (which contains butter milk, a form of dairy!) and he looked at me like I had thirty thousand heads and forced it in my mouth. Needless to say, the rest of the night I was a disgusting ball of gas and runs. Woo hoo.
The Downright Embarrassing:
You might think that my next story occurred as I was drunk, but I must (sadly) say that it took place almost immediately upon reaching my aunt's house. I have an addiction to sparkling water. Sparkling water makes you pee more than usual. We get to the house. I need to pee like a racehorse. Trying to hide the auditory evidence that I am peeing like a racehorse, I scoot myself as forward as I can so my river will hit against the bowl instead of the water equaling lots of noise. My river decides to take a new route and jumps out of the bowl, onto the Brand. New. White. Rug. I watch in horror at the trail that is now running down the outside of the bowl before quickly scooting back. Thankfully, I was well hydrated and my pee was clear as to not discolor the rug...I also didn't see the need to continue soaking it up after two separate paper towels.
Whacha!
Getting on to business, like many, yesterday was Thanksgiving, and, like many, I ate the usual fare. I didn't gorge myself this time (another story) and I was lucky to be able to fill my plate with the staples: some turkey and tons of cranberry sauce and green beans. No bread for me: green beans. And after dinner I ate some scorching hot apple pie, courtesy of my microwave skills. But the important parts of Thanksgiving are what occurred in between the dinner, the football games, the drunken banter (me), and playing pool. I'll keep this short and sweet because I'm sure everyone is feeling the affects of a drunken Thanksgiving. No? Just me? Awkward....
I'll start with "the cute":
So there's a new kid in the family, I'll call him "Guillaume" in the spirit of Monte Cristo. Yeah, he was there, and yeah he's cute, if you like babies that sit there and do nothing but smile. I'm sick and tired of hearing the family say that he should try out for the Gerber baby and blah blah blah. He didn't even eat his food! He did not show the Thanksgiving spirit! And at 8 months I was already walking. So there.
The Bad:
My mother. We were playing billiards. I was winning. I step out for one minute to cut a sliver of pumpkin pie (a sliver, 1/4 of the pie, same thing...but really only a sliver, dairy allergy makes me keep it to a minimum :( ) <- there is no good way to make that.... As I am cutting my piece, my mother "gets two". I'm so flabbergasted that my own flesh and blood would cheat that I lose the game.
The Ugly:
I found myself talking about dentures for quite a long time. I don't know how it happened, why it happened, and why I continued the conversation, but what I've learned is that I should never get dentures because a)they fall out, b)they smell, c)they aren't the same thing as real teeth (no shit). BUT if I did ever end up getting them, I could always dip them in my coffee. Yeah...
Another ugly, I was forced to eat rutabaga (in lieu of mashed potatoes) which I'm not knocking rutabaga, in fact I prefer cauliflower mashed potatoes instead of mashed potatoes, or sweet potatoes. Still with me? So anyway, I told my aunt's husband (they've been married a year, both of them are a little crazy, not sure if that really makes him my uncle) that I couldn't have any because there was butter in it (which contains butter milk, a form of dairy!) and he looked at me like I had thirty thousand heads and forced it in my mouth. Needless to say, the rest of the night I was a disgusting ball of gas and runs. Woo hoo.
The Downright Embarrassing:
You might think that my next story occurred as I was drunk, but I must (sadly) say that it took place almost immediately upon reaching my aunt's house. I have an addiction to sparkling water. Sparkling water makes you pee more than usual. We get to the house. I need to pee like a racehorse. Trying to hide the auditory evidence that I am peeing like a racehorse, I scoot myself as forward as I can so my river will hit against the bowl instead of the water equaling lots of noise. My river decides to take a new route and jumps out of the bowl, onto the Brand. New. White. Rug. I watch in horror at the trail that is now running down the outside of the bowl before quickly scooting back. Thankfully, I was well hydrated and my pee was clear as to not discolor the rug...I also didn't see the need to continue soaking it up after two separate paper towels.
Whacha!
20101125
Happy Turkey Day
In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I would like to say thank you to everything I have (like a family and a home and pepperoni) and all of the things I don't have (such as measles, venereal diseases, and allergies to sheep). But also in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I am already starting to look forward to what I want for Christmas. Besides the usual of new trampoline springs so I'm not in danger of crashing to my death, and the new Beauty and the Beast DVD, I have also decided to ask Santa for something a little...out of the ordinary.
I used to spend my youth writing letters to Santa to bring me a puppy because my father would never let us have any, and my brother wrote a four page essay on the reasons as to why we need a dog (Air Bud anyone?), but now I've become more practical. This year I would like a superpower...and not just any boring old superpower: I want to temporarily be able to kill people.
Remember back in grade school when you would have to say which superpower you'd like? No? Well think about it. Now imagine the creativity of grade school aged kids: we all wanted to be able to fly, walk through walls (for those who think it'd be fun to walk in on their parents in the middle of the night), or have x-ray vision (a favorite of Mr. Polaris's). I, on the other hand, wanted to be different so I said "I want to be able to speak all the languages of the world." How stupid I was! That isn't useful, not in a world where everyone who's anyone speaks American! But we digress and thankfully I've learned from my naiveness. And now as my official request:
Dear Santa,
I would like the ability to temporarily kill people. I know you might think this rash, terroristic even, but let me explain.
Yesterday, as I traversed from Boston to New York (clean to polluted) at 7 in the morn, I had the lucky opportunity to sit next to a kid, who looked normal enough (but from BU, I should have known). Within a few minutes though, I realized my err: as I watched my foreign flick on my laptop, Mr. Ginger BU slept, mouth open, with his iPod up all the way to the maximum! I thought I was at a fucking metal concert the whole time. I had such a goddam headache! I WOULD HAVE DONE ANYTHING TO HAVE TEMPORARILY KILLED HIM!! Such as, whipping out from my pant leg the sword of Aragon and decapitating him for the rest of the journey. I almost warned him that he would go deaf, but I want him to. I want him to go deaf dammit.
And there are other times, such as when I'm walking with a destination in mind and the people I catch up to are not only walking 0.001 mph, but they are also 4 person wide on a 3 person wide sidewalk. You say step into the street to pass them, I say nay, a) I will get hit by a car, b) I will get hit by a bicycle, c) that's not the point, its a free fucking sidewalk, and d) taking a Harry Potter wizarding wand and shoving it through the back of their necks is just more fun.
And Santa, I know that you will feel me for this one: you're walking in your workshop, and you accidentally slam your knee into one of the elves tables, right where it hurts. One of the elves laughs. You can't tell me that for that instant you don't want to kill that elf (not forever, he is your best dollhouse architect) and all of the other elves for being so small that their tables are at knee height!
And why not just stun them? Because stunning a person doesn't teach said person a lesson. Killing them on the other hand, is the ultimate lesson. The person thinks "Oh my God(s) (politically correct), oh my God(esses)! I'm dying, I'm dying!" And then they die....and when they come back to life, well they learn to never ever ever do whatever they were doing before, lest they don't come back to life.
Please Santa, in the spirit of the Holidays, grant me this one gift - this ability! I've never really asked for much (maybe a car, a puppy, and a boyfriend on occasion, but who doesn't). I promise to use it wisely, only on people who piss me off, look at me wrong, or just happen to be...there.
Don't forget everything I've ever done for you (that's right, I'm pulling the cookie card)
Love, Me,
I used to spend my youth writing letters to Santa to bring me a puppy because my father would never let us have any, and my brother wrote a four page essay on the reasons as to why we need a dog (Air Bud anyone?), but now I've become more practical. This year I would like a superpower...and not just any boring old superpower: I want to temporarily be able to kill people.
Remember back in grade school when you would have to say which superpower you'd like? No? Well think about it. Now imagine the creativity of grade school aged kids: we all wanted to be able to fly, walk through walls (for those who think it'd be fun to walk in on their parents in the middle of the night), or have x-ray vision (a favorite of Mr. Polaris's). I, on the other hand, wanted to be different so I said "I want to be able to speak all the languages of the world." How stupid I was! That isn't useful, not in a world where everyone who's anyone speaks American! But we digress and thankfully I've learned from my naiveness. And now as my official request:
Dear Santa,
I would like the ability to temporarily kill people. I know you might think this rash, terroristic even, but let me explain.
Yesterday, as I traversed from Boston to New York (clean to polluted) at 7 in the morn, I had the lucky opportunity to sit next to a kid, who looked normal enough (but from BU, I should have known). Within a few minutes though, I realized my err: as I watched my foreign flick on my laptop, Mr. Ginger BU slept, mouth open, with his iPod up all the way to the maximum! I thought I was at a fucking metal concert the whole time. I had such a goddam headache! I WOULD HAVE DONE ANYTHING TO HAVE TEMPORARILY KILLED HIM!! Such as, whipping out from my pant leg the sword of Aragon and decapitating him for the rest of the journey. I almost warned him that he would go deaf, but I want him to. I want him to go deaf dammit.
And there are other times, such as when I'm walking with a destination in mind and the people I catch up to are not only walking 0.001 mph, but they are also 4 person wide on a 3 person wide sidewalk. You say step into the street to pass them, I say nay, a) I will get hit by a car, b) I will get hit by a bicycle, c) that's not the point, its a free fucking sidewalk, and d) taking a Harry Potter wizarding wand and shoving it through the back of their necks is just more fun.
And Santa, I know that you will feel me for this one: you're walking in your workshop, and you accidentally slam your knee into one of the elves tables, right where it hurts. One of the elves laughs. You can't tell me that for that instant you don't want to kill that elf (not forever, he is your best dollhouse architect) and all of the other elves for being so small that their tables are at knee height!
And why not just stun them? Because stunning a person doesn't teach said person a lesson. Killing them on the other hand, is the ultimate lesson. The person thinks "Oh my God(s) (politically correct), oh my God(esses)! I'm dying, I'm dying!" And then they die....and when they come back to life, well they learn to never ever ever do whatever they were doing before, lest they don't come back to life.
Please Santa, in the spirit of the Holidays, grant me this one gift - this ability! I've never really asked for much (maybe a car, a puppy, and a boyfriend on occasion, but who doesn't). I promise to use it wisely, only on people who piss me off, look at me wrong, or just happen to be...there.
Don't forget everything I've ever done for you (that's right, I'm pulling the cookie card)
Love, Me,
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