We were going to a movie tonight. We were ready. Milk Duds and Sour Patch Kids were in hand. Bottles of water were ready to be smuggled in the oversized bag. Then, Nick goes to drive the 100 meters from CVS to the theater (not very Earth friendly, I know) and my car makes this “vrooooooooom” noise without the accompanying purr of a running engine. He tried and tried again and again – nothing. I got into the front seat, ready to work my magic. It is my car after all, and we do have a special bond. I encouraged her with a pat on the dash and turned the ignition. “Vrooooooooom” – no purr.
After much debate about the proper towing location, contemplation over whether we should go to the movie before calling for help and angry words for the makers of Infiniti, we broke down and called AAA.
I was sitting in the car when Jason, my mechanic friend, rolled through in his blazing white vehicle. Like a knight in shining armor he popped the hood and took a look. Then he asked me to start the car. “Vroooooooooom” – no purr. I gave him a sad half smile and an understanding nod. I don’t know much about cars, but I knew this was bad.
Jason then asked me for my key. He popped himself into the drivers seat and with a turn of the hand I heard it – “Vrooooooom Puuuuuuuuuuur” – Just like a cat. What!? I was just there for an hour. How did Jason do this? Does he possess special AAA magical powers?
As I was trying to convince him that the problem was real he says, “did you have your foot on the brake?” Did I? Did Nick? How can this be? How could we both make such an independent asinine mistake, at the same time? I hung my head in shame and signed Jason’s little clipboard and sent him on his way.
It is this day, one year, 10 months and 18 days after our wedding, that I am officially worried that we are turning into the same person.
After a cancelled flight, a long wait time in the airport and a connection in Dallas, I was thrilled to make it back to Connecticut for a visit. So thrilled that I didn’t mind that my luggage failed to make it to the final destination with me.
A lot has changed in the past couple years. My east coast friends are married and the baby boom has begun. No longer are we sneaking off to UConn, pretending that we are freshman in college. Instead, we are sitting around a living room reading passages from What to Expect When You Are Expecting. As an aside – if you have intentions of reproducing, I recommend that you not read this book. I received an education that night that is sure to keep me sterile for quite some time. Why would we read such a thing? My friend (hi Jules!) just had a beautiful baby boy and her coffee table reading materials called out to us.
Beyond QT with friends, the typical family reunion activities ensued. One can never tire of binge eating, movies, Wii tournaments, shopping and the the Mohegan Sun. I also spent a great deal of time cheating on Indy with this little white creature.
All in all, going back to New England was like a breath of fresh air (literally) filled with trees, barns, flowers and white picket fences.
The trip went by way to fast. Now I am left wondering how I will ever be able to run without a daily Dunkin.
Our relationship for the past five years has been entertaining, exciting and emotionally fulfilling, however the time has come for me to have some space.
Today I got yelled at by one of your residents, Miss Crazy Lady Santa Monica. She make direct eye contact, pointed her finger and scared the hell out of me. No Miss Crazy Lady, I do not know why your teacher was mean to you or why “they” made you wear that shirt. I understand that these are difficult things to understand without your Lithium and I apologize for clutching my pepper spray for dear life.
Furthermore, the low mileage on my car does not account for the countless hours I have spent stalled on the freeways of your city, inhaling the fragrant aroma of carbon pollution. Oh 405 freeway, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways. Los Angeles, I forgive you for the orange haze that lingers over downtown, but I cannot forgive you when that haze infringes on my west side life.
Lastly, my dry cleaning bill today was $176. Perhaps that was my fault. No one told me that “organic” cleaning came at a premium even when you use a sizable coupon. I suppose it would have cost the same in Peoria, IL or Gilford, NH.
So in summary, I am leaving you for the next five nights. I am confident that it is the perfect amount of time to reconfirm that suburbia is not for me (despite all the wonderful people that live in the burbs) and that city lights and midweek wine bars are more my style.
Last night we ventured to a fantastic, yet slightly morbid, event – the Hollywood Forever Cemetery movie screening. The venue attracts thousands of tourists every year, each vying for a glimpse of its high profile clientele. Not the type of star sightings I would prefer, but at least these celebs don’t run when you snap a pic.
As we were walking to the movie site my friend (hi Kim) spotted a six foot hole with a casket about to be lowered into the ground. Chilling. Otherwise, it was surprisingly easy to adapt to the surroundings once wine and Milk Duds were in hand.
The movie was Sixteen Candles – a timeless Ringwald. This genre (i.e., Pretty in Pink, Say Anything) always stirs us adolescent nostalgia for me. Aaaah…the exquisite pain of being in love. The feeling that your heart may burst if he doesn’t call. The fear that you may actually die when the breakup happens. The enviable innocence of having a complete lack of perspective. While I would never go back, sometimes I can’t help but to miss the days before I knew what a self defense mechanism was.
If you haven’t seen this movie in awhile go rent it. At the very least, it is worth a laugh.
I went to Beverly Hills this afternoon to meet some friends at The Farm. I love Beverly Hills on days like today. The sun was shining with a slight breeze in the air and the tourist population was at a minimum. Los Angeles isn’t the cleanest of cities, however 90210 proper is pristine. The streets are lined with designer goods, trendy restaurants and attractive fashionistas.
Being a very prompt person, I showed up for lunch exactly on time (L.A. translation = I was 15 minutes late). Since I was the first to arrive, I opted to visit the toy store next door to avoid spending inordinate amounts of money at the Crate and Barrel across the street. I was having fun reminiscing about childhood adventures and Chutes and Ladders when I came face to face with something that stopped me in my tracks. I have never seen anything like it, and I am Catholic. I was offended/amused by it and I am 99 percent sure that it may be a sin to purchase this product.
Here it is boys and girls, your very own “Leader of Vatican City” doll. It doesn’t move and it doesn’t talk. Hell (virtual sign of the cross) let’s just get it out there — he looks like Chucky, on Prozac.
When my brother and I were young we used to have a lot of sleepovers with my fantastic aunt. She has an impressive Charlie Chaplin collection and one particular doll used to scare my brother to death when he was trying to sleep. I imagine that Pope Doll would rival good old Charlie. Kids are very imaginative. Coupled with Catholic guilt, scary things could happen when Pope Doll “came alive” at night.
“You didn’t clean your room? You weren’t nice to your sister? Hail Marys aren’t going to save you now little one…. muhuhahahah….!”
If you look a little closer at the pic you will see that this fine specimen of a toy is on sale. Imagine that. And with this post, I am officially announcing a recurring Things That Make You Say Hmmm theme. There are just too many funny/crazy things are out there that must be blogged about.
I am about a year behind with this post, but I just got around to watching There Will be Blood. You may remember that this movie received widespread recognition including eight Academy Award nominations. I expected to be blown away. I wasn’t. Perhaps I am just not one for crude oil, wild west pursuits and abandoning a deaf child. What I will say is that the movie had one of the best scenes, ever!
My current problem is that I can’t stop quoting the milkshake scene, “I drink your milkshake, I drink it up!” When will it get old? Maybe never….
On to the next topic:
I am not including a weekend recap because, frankly, it wasn’t a great weekend. Both Friday and Saturday I lay awake at night – my mind racing faster than Mario Andretti on his best race day. It is interesting how something relatively minor can happen and all of the sudden you are propelled down a path of worry and over contemplation regarding everything else in your life. Who is driving this neurotransmitter train we call thought? Clearly I am not wearing the conductor cap after the strike of midnight.
I Drink Your Milkshake – I Drink it Up! Here we go again. Please someone, make the voices stop.
Posted by marcypoz7 
Posted by marcypoz7 
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Posted by marcypoz7 
