Gone With the Winn Dixie

I'm reading Gone With the Wind for the umpteenth time.
I could practically recite it word for word to you.
When I watch the movie, my lips move with the dialogue.

The 10-year-old spied the book on the floor next to the bed.

He: Hey! It's that book from Winn Dixie!

Me: Gone With the Winn Dixie?

He: No! Because of Winn Dixie! (the book they were required to read in 4th grade) This is the book the librarian gave the girl to read to the blind woman... I think. (taps book) Is this the one where the guy goes to war and dies? Gasp! (slaps hand over mouth) I'm sorry! Did I just ruin the ending for you?

Me: (devastated) He dies?!?

Heh heh heh.

Excuse me. I have to go to the bank and make a deposit in the Therapy Fund now...

Two Word Movie Review - Transformers

Here are several two word reviews. Today, you get to pick:

"Oh mgod!"
"Freakin' awesome!"
"Kick ass!"
"Big screen"
"Eye candy"

I want a Camaro.
Or a tow truck.

If you can still find it in a theater, go.
Don't wait for a rental. It'll lose it's magic.

Best times to take a potty break:
Anytime the Transformers are conversing amongst themselves.
I kinda felt I had fallen into Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles at those times.

Door's Open - C'mon in!

The husband feels the need to drag me around the state in a tent again this year.
Nevermind that we've had more rainfall in this one month than any other month in recorded history.

If that wasn't enough, he's going to hit me over the head with his mother on the way home.
(Dang, where'd I leave my flogging gear?)

Keep yourselves entertained while I'm out.
Some one should be enjoying themselves at least.

My Name is Steve

A summer night in the 1980s...
Strolling along a quiet, riverside walkway...
With a tall, handsome young man who was fond of me...

On the street behind us, we could hear the approach of a vehicle; its stereo thumping out a beat.
Ignore it.
Ignore it.
Ignore it...

Until it pulled up next to us.
And stopped.

It was a big ole conversion van, rocking with a combination of woofers, tweeters, and occupants.
Lots of occupants.

From inside the van came a loud human squeal.

"ROOOOOOSES!"

And when the side door opened, the thudding beat of the stereo was revealed to be POLKA music, and the occupants who spilled out were several of my aunts and uncles.

"It IS Roses!"
"Hey, Roses!"
"It's Roses... and a BOY!"

They were drunk.
And, judging by the open beer bottles in their hands, not yet as drunk as they were going to be.

They greeted tall young man.
"Are you Todd?"
"You must be Todd!"
"Hey, everyone! This is Todd!"
"Wanna beer, Todd?"

A cold front moved in.
Beer bottles frosted, right before my eyes.

An icy voice spoke.  "My name. is. Steve."

"Oooooooh..."
"Whooooooops! Sorry, Roses!"
"Well then, wanna beer, Steeeeve?"

Quickly, they piled back into the van, hollering and hooting out the windows as they pulled away.

You know that scene in "Forrest Gump" where Forrest swims to a dock to greet Lieutenant Dan, and as Forrest's shrimping boat crashes into shore, Forrest looks at Lieutenant Dan and says, "That's mah boat."

Well, in much the same manner, I looked up at tall young man and said, "That's mah family."

He was a good sport.
After I explained that Todd was an old boyfriend.
That I'd broken up with years earlier.
But the aunts and uncles hadn't seen me with anyone since.
And so, assumed I was still with him.

In the days following, Steve developed a habit of greeting me with a loud, high-pitched, "ROOOOOOSES!"

Which was very funny...

Until I once responded, "Hey, everybody! It's Todd!"

He never did call me ROOOOOOSES after that.
In fact, he didn't call me at all.

Not so funny, I guess.

The Appropriate Response Is...

When you lose two hours' sleep in the middle of the night because a storm rolls through and your children end up huddled on your side of the bed, and your husband (who was not disturbed at all overnight) whip-snaps the wrinkles out of his slacks at 5:50am, the appropriate response is:

a) roll over and go back to sleep,
b) kiss him good morning, get up and make him breakfast,
c) cuss loudly and declare, "You don't love me!"
d) public flogging

MONTHLIES! (That should scare away the men)

Because Mrs. Who had the courage to bring up a delicate subject that would/should make many men squeamish, I feel the need to share also.

I'm talking about *monthlys*.

Really.
Guys.
Turn back now.
I'm about to ruin a great action film for you if you don't.
Run. Hide.
Now.

You've been warned.


***

Okay, now that all the guys are still reading because they want to know how I can relate monthlys to an action movie...


Question for the ladies:
When did feminine hygiene products start packaging their products by weight?
Not weight of the product, but weight of the woman?

I get why there's such a product, but apparently, I missed that memo.
I accidentally grabbed a package intended for a woman somewhat larger than I am.
And it wasn't until I had unwrapped a pad before I realized something was amiss, and actually looked closer at the packaging.

You'd think it wouldn't matter much, but these things are inches longer than anything I have ever seen before.
They work just fine, but there's a lot of extra material.
I feel like I'm wasting a lot of perfectly good product.

Honestly, I feel a bit like this:


And I have yet to fall into Bruce Willis' taxi and save the world.

What a rip off.

Sounds like something Harvey would say.

The husband was walking around shirtless earlier this weekend.

Me: Hey, you're wearing my favorite shirt!

He: You're welcome to borrow it anytime.

Say that again, please?

Overheard down the hall, one son yelling at the other:

"I'm doing my chores like a good boy! Now get out of my room!"


Pinch me!
I must be dreaming!

Computer games SO rock!

Our children are brilliant!

The boys joined a computer club last week.
They meet every Friday evening from 6-8pm.

::the heavens open, angels sing::

The husband and I are alone!
On Friday nights!
From now until... forever!!!

Last week, we enjoyed Italian.
Tonight, we went in search of steak.
(whispers) We even stayed out later than the children tonight!

Ooo! So naughty!

It's just so perfect.
Not a school night.
No homework.
No guilt for doing something fun without the kids, because they're doing exactly what they want to do already.

And I don't have to share my dessert if I don't wanna.

And how come...

... all the people who visit here via Bad Example are coming over from Harvey's "Naughty Stuff" folder?

What did I say?

How come...

... on days when I'm feeling exceptionally tired and my neck aches more than usual, that is when the gray in my hair is more pronounced?

Today, I feel like a creaky old lady.

Italian Date Night

As the husband and I were enjoying a quiet dinner sans children at an Italian restaurant Friday night, the theme music from The Godfather wafted through the dining area.

Me: Did you know that's actually a love song?

He: No kidding.

Speak Softly Love, it is.

Me: Funny how a beautiful love song can sound so ominous because it was attached to The Godfather... A grisly, sometimes gruesome movie about family. And loyalty. And "don't cross mine".

He: Interesting.

Me: Even more interesting... I'm not sure you remember this, but your mother gave us a music box as a wedding gift or anniversary present a long time ago. The one with the two doves on it and an open bible with a verse about love?

He: Yeah.

Me: I thought it was sweet and beautiful. Such a lovely gift from your mother. So, imagine my surprise when I wound it up... and it played The Godfather Theme.

The husband laughed so loud people looked.
And he hummed the tune all night long.

Bah-ha-ha!

Recent Google hit:

"mother-in-law dementor"

They got this page as an answer.
I had forgotten the comments.

Too funny.

The Funniest News Story - EVER

The husband and I wish we'd have thought of this.

Releasing goats indoors is just juvenile and stupid.
But numbering them 1, 2, and 4 ... brilliant.

I wonder how long police searched for the non-existent goat #3?

Random Anger

Anger is ugly.

The pretty blonde in the red sports car in front of me blared her horn at the vehicle two cars in front of her that failed to move when the light turned green.
As traffic started to move, she engaged in much arm waving. When she turned to complain to her passenger, her face was magenta, her eyebrows were knit together, and her teeth were bared. Yelling. Pointing. Gesturing.

Definitely looking very wrinkly, old, and white trash, suddenly.

And I thought, "Wow. Yesterday, that was me."

I'm feeling much prettier today.

*****

President Bush called a media conference today.
Our station aired it. For half an hour.
During the reporters' question segment, we left the White House broadcast and resumed our regular programming.

Studio phone rings.
"Can YOU tell me..."
(which is always a nice greeting and makes me feel all warm and fuzzy and willing to be of kind service, by the way)
"...why your station is not carrying the President's speech. In. Its. Entirety?"

"We did carry his whole speech," I explained...
(because this is what he asked me to do, right? Please tell him why we weren't carrying all of the President's speech. That is what he asked of me, isn't it?)
"...He's done with his speech and is answering questions..."

"IT'S STILL ON THE TELEVISION RIGHT NOW!"

*blink*

This is where both you and I think to ourselves, "Then watch your freaking TV and leave me alone, jerk."

But what I said outloud was, "Let me put you through to our program director."
And I sent the angry little turd away.

Please.
If you ask me a question, don't scream at me when I answer it.

I know your voice (Bob).
You're lucky I don't just hang up on you without saying a word everytime you call.
You're never happy.
You inspired this list.


*****

As Eric Forman on That 70's Show once said:
"God, what did you have for breakfast this morning? Carnation Instant Bitch?"

They're Watching...

Dunno why, but this link makes me feel important.

"Somebody noticed me!"

::beams::

Wise Cracker

I harass my chiropractor.
But he likes it.
He really does.

This morning, after my adjustment, he reached behind my neck, I thought, to tuck a tag back inside my shirt. Instead, he pulled my necklace around to move the clasp to the back.

"Did I have a wish?" I blurted. "You just ruined my wish!"

(Pausing for the men, here: Any elementary school girl can tell you that if you wear a necklace and the clasp scoots all the way around to the charm in front, you get a wish as you slide it back. Most girls wish for boys to like them... so now you know why you suddenly liked one girl in grade school for no particular reason. She wished you to. Totally beyond your control. Sorry.)

So, I yelled at my chiropractor.

Then, as he walked me to the lobby, he stepped on the heal of my shoe and gave me a "flat".

"I can't win for losing," he lamented to the receptionist. "First I ruin her wish, then I rip her shoe right off."

I sniffed dramatically. "And all I was really wishing for was to walk out of here wearing shoes!"



(Huh. That sounded SO much funnier when I actually said it.)
::shrug::

Boy home from Scout Camp

He had a great time.
He brought us gifts.

When he realized the one souvenir he'd bought for himself got left behind at camp, he said, "It's not important, anyway."

His little brother hasn't let him out of his sight.

I am so happy.
I keep reaching over to touch him.
And I smile a lot.

The Last One

I met him somewhere between the ages of 18 and 20.
He was the first one to ever break my heart.
Shattered it.
As I watched him walk away from me, never to be seen again, I wept.
And could not stop.

***

I was working my way through college at the grocery store.
The sun was starting to set.
Just a few more hours before closing time.

I had, by this time, decided that my specialty as a cashier would be to make eye contact with everyone to come through my check-out. To make each customer smile before they left.

I was kinda full of myself.

Until he walked into my lane.

He was an old guy.
Seventy? Seventy-five years old?
Old.
Had just a handful of groceries in his shopping cart.
Very quiet.
Moved slow.

I greeted him enthusiasically, and got a half-hearted mumble in return.
Not a grumble. A mumble.
He was not grouchy/old.

He was sad.

Bubbly me spewed some nonsense about the sun shining and birds singing.
And got nothing.

Quietly, slowly, he said to me, "My wife died a couple weeks ago."

My smile vanished.
My heart sank.

"I'm sorry."

"It's been... hard."

I nodded stupidly and rang up his few purchases.
The last thing on the conveyor belt was a cherry pie from the bakery.
As I rang it up, I could see through the plastic window on the box that the pie had slid to one side and broken.

"Oh, your pie is ruined," I told him. "Let me get you another one."

"You can't," he choked. "It was the last one."

I begged him to let me go look for another, maybe there was one in the back that hadn't been put out yet, just let me please go look.

I looked.
There weren't any cherry pies anywhere.

"But there are plenty of others. Can I bring you an apple? Or a blueberry?"

"No. I really wanted cherry. My wife used to make the best cherry pie, and I just thought... I just wanted... I don't want any other one."

Oh God.

I watched him walk away.
Only, I didn't see him pushing a shopping cart.
I could clearly see him in an empty kitchen serving one lone slice of broken pie.
Quietly eating it with a shaky hand.
Thinking of all the pies his wife had made.
Swallowing hard while tasting this last one.
Tears falling onto his plate.

His lovely wife.
He didn't want any other one.

***

I never did see him again.
I couldn't possibly know, but I imagine he joined his wife shortly after finishing that pie.

The last one.