Have you seen it yet?? Have you? HAVE YOU?
Holy mother - it's fantastic. I mean really, really fantastic. We took the boys last night and I have to say I was a little concerned because I'd heard about all of the darkness of it and the violence and whatnot...but it did land the PG-13 rating and I felt mostly okay about taking Owen. Unlike Wanted, which was a total piece of shit and there's no way I would let Owen see it.
Heath Ledger - wow. just wow. I can see why they are talking Oscar for him. And I'm not just saying that because he's dead.
This past weekend was the Kev-head's birthday. I took him away to the Herrington for some R&R. We celebrated his birthday weekend with massages - oh yeah, me too! Which cracked the Kev-head up. His birthday and I got spa treatments. He said for my birthday he's getting me a purse and a chainsaw or something like that. Good one.
I've picked up a new skill-set since we last chatted. It's almost a superpower. Just all me Water Woman. I am retaining water like it was my job. Seriously. Puncture me and I'm pretty sure I could end a drought or put out a large brush fire. I still have visible DENTS in my ankles from the socks I slept in last night, people. Sock dents from socks that I haven't had on my feet in almost 4 hours. Kill.me.now. A couple of days ago I was so bloated I seriously looked like I could give birth any moment. I LOVE being a woman. LOVE it. LOVE it. LOVE it. And I'm so foul I can't even stand my own self. I just want to climb out of myself and leave my me-skin sitting in a bar somewhere to drink it off. Bitter, bloated party of one, please. I'm trying to listen to the Black Eyed Peas and pull myself out of the dredges of rumpiness into funkiness, but it's just not happening. Note to yourselves...stay the fuck away from me until further notice. I'm not responsible for anything I say or do. Last night I almost backhanded Alex because the sound of his mouth moving as he lip-synced along with his ipod almost made my head explode.
Other than that I'm great. And the movie really was killer. Stop what you're doing and go see it immediately. Heath would want it that way.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
The Dilly Bar story
So last night I worked late because Alex had to work. Just as well, there were phone upgrades to be done. Totally geeky things happening over here, lemme tell ya.
I get over to the DQ about 9:15 and Alex is still working. I have no problem with this as there are the usual 57 voicemail messages on my cell phone to answer and return. Yes, at 9:15 at night. Ridiculous, I know, but true nonetheless. While I'm pacing around outside chatting (a trait I inherited from my dad, who is a hopeless helpless pacer while on the phone...and I'm happy to say that my youngest has the same annoying habit) some kids are also outside happily, or so I thought, munching on their ice cream cones.
Two girls in the car, two boys outside the car. The next thing I know, the tallest boy is saying "back this car out, we're fixin' to go wreck some shit! C'mon...we're goin to wreck some shit..."
Ummmm, what? Is this new lingo I'm unaware of? Does this mean you're leaving to go party? Like you're gonna get wrecked? I'm barely paying attention to them until the car starts backing out and the boys go back into the DQ. In a flash they are running out, the manager is yelling "Don't come back!" and the boys are trying to jump into the car. Well by now my spidey sense is tingling, so I start walking towards the back of the car to get a plate number.
And this is where my age kicks in...not only did I NOT recognize trouble when they were talking about wrecking some shit, I have TERRIBLE night vision that takes my already horrible near-sightedness to a disgustingly bad level. So I can't really focus on the number. Besides which, the blue plates with the white numbers that the state of Indiana has instituted? NOT GOOD FOR NIGHT. With the license plate lights reflecting off the white, I think it was like 43567 or maybe 45637? Yeah, I'm old
So they take off, with the back door still open and one of the boys stranded at the DQ.
I go inside and find out that their apparent high as hell "gangsta" version of wreckin some shit s to open the freezer, take out a box of cherry dilly bars and throw them on the ground.
ooooooooohhhhhhhhhh no you di'int!
Seriously? Really? Assaulting dilly bars? That's what constitutes fun and rebellion on a Tuesday night in the summer? At least we were more creative than that. Clearly walking around and randomly removing Christmas bulbs from someone's porch was WAY cooler. As Alex put it, what's next, going to MickeyD's and spilling pop?!
They take off down Broadway and their abandoned dilly bar assaulter is left on foot hiking down 68th. They circle Broadway for a bit until realizing I'm watching for them, still trying to get the plate number. Yeah...shut it.
Now they ditch the car and the girls are on foot trying to find their friend when the police show up. I talk to the cop, tell her basically nothing, it's a silver toyota camry with a license plate number that might be any combination of those numbers...I'm SO Rebecca Crum, Dilly Bar Detective. Alllllllllllll-righty then...but I did describe the girls and what they were wearing.
They never found the miscreants, but it was a bit of excitement for the DQ at closing time. Alex and I are thinking about going out and starting some trouble tonight...maybe we'll throw some napkins around a Wendy's or take all the straw wrappers off the straws at a Burger King. We're rebels and cannot be contained. Who's driving the getaway car? Anyone? Anyone?
I get over to the DQ about 9:15 and Alex is still working. I have no problem with this as there are the usual 57 voicemail messages on my cell phone to answer and return. Yes, at 9:15 at night. Ridiculous, I know, but true nonetheless. While I'm pacing around outside chatting (a trait I inherited from my dad, who is a hopeless helpless pacer while on the phone...and I'm happy to say that my youngest has the same annoying habit) some kids are also outside happily, or so I thought, munching on their ice cream cones.
Two girls in the car, two boys outside the car. The next thing I know, the tallest boy is saying "back this car out, we're fixin' to go wreck some shit! C'mon...we're goin to wreck some shit..."
Ummmm, what? Is this new lingo I'm unaware of? Does this mean you're leaving to go party? Like you're gonna get wrecked? I'm barely paying attention to them until the car starts backing out and the boys go back into the DQ. In a flash they are running out, the manager is yelling "Don't come back!" and the boys are trying to jump into the car. Well by now my spidey sense is tingling, so I start walking towards the back of the car to get a plate number.
And this is where my age kicks in...not only did I NOT recognize trouble when they were talking about wrecking some shit, I have TERRIBLE night vision that takes my already horrible near-sightedness to a disgustingly bad level. So I can't really focus on the number. Besides which, the blue plates with the white numbers that the state of Indiana has instituted? NOT GOOD FOR NIGHT. With the license plate lights reflecting off the white, I think it was like 43567 or maybe 45637? Yeah, I'm old
So they take off, with the back door still open and one of the boys stranded at the DQ.
I go inside and find out that their apparent high as hell "gangsta" version of wreckin some shit s to open the freezer, take out a box of cherry dilly bars and throw them on the ground.
ooooooooohhhhhhhhhh no you di'int!
Seriously? Really? Assaulting dilly bars? That's what constitutes fun and rebellion on a Tuesday night in the summer? At least we were more creative than that. Clearly walking around and randomly removing Christmas bulbs from someone's porch was WAY cooler. As Alex put it, what's next, going to MickeyD's and spilling pop?!
They take off down Broadway and their abandoned dilly bar assaulter is left on foot hiking down 68th. They circle Broadway for a bit until realizing I'm watching for them, still trying to get the plate number. Yeah...shut it.
Now they ditch the car and the girls are on foot trying to find their friend when the police show up. I talk to the cop, tell her basically nothing, it's a silver toyota camry with a license plate number that might be any combination of those numbers...I'm SO Rebecca Crum, Dilly Bar Detective. Alllllllllllll-righty then...but I did describe the girls and what they were wearing.
They never found the miscreants, but it was a bit of excitement for the DQ at closing time. Alex and I are thinking about going out and starting some trouble tonight...maybe we'll throw some napkins around a Wendy's or take all the straw wrappers off the straws at a Burger King. We're rebels and cannot be contained. Who's driving the getaway car? Anyone? Anyone?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)