When I was in college, one *crazy* year I agreed to live with twelve other girls.  Yes:  one roof.  Yes:  all together.  No:  we did not have Nightly Pajama Parties.  But some crazy things did happen, as are bound to whenever that much estrogen is placed under one roof (for the love of God, there’s a reason we’re created Male and Female - we needs the testosterone!).

Because it was college, and because it was a Christian liberal arts college (a.k.a. a step away from home, but nowhere close to the Real World, MTV or not), we found it necessary to have Bonding Time.  Sometimes this would be a scheduled event:  a group date (which I “happened” to always have to work during - yes, we needed testosterone, but do you know how much higher the estrogen levels got in situations like that?  It took weeks before the shrieking and giggling stopped), a house outing.  Sometimes it was spontaneous:  driving in our pajama pants and sweatshirts to the drive-thru donut store, sliding down the stairs in laundry baskets (thanks for the idea, Joetta).

And every once in a while, when the stars lined up right, we would venture out in a massive movie viewing:  and by stars, I mean Hollywood actors, of course.  See, girls have very distinct tastes.  Some want to watch chick flicks - get out the Meg Ryan box set.  Others want to see things blow up - they say they “just really like movies like this,” but more often than not, you’ll find a guy standing around to hear them say it.  Some, like me, will watch the four-hour correct filming of Hamlet four times in the theatre.

But, every once in a while, we agreed on a movie to watch together.  And for some strange reason, Meet Joe Black was one of those.  I’m not a huge Brad Pitt fan:  he’s from Montana - enough said.  And Anthony Hopkins - I can take him, I can leave him.  Most likely I simply wanted to avoid the piles of homework, laundry, and other crap lying in my room (we could barely walk in there).

Meet Joe Black is a movie about death.  Falling in love with Anthony Hopkins’ daughter.  Nothing to get too excited over.  Nice soundtrack.  Really slow dialog.  Lots of eye candy.  But there’s this one scene:  you know it, don’t you.  Brad Pitt and Claire Forlani have randomly met in a diner and had a really nice, connecting conversation.  They shared; they flirted; they created ambiance.  And then they had to leave.  So they turn to walk different directions, continuing to look over their shoulders at each other, but missing the fact that they are staring at each other.  It happens for a looooooong time.  And just when you’re in a nice, sappy place hoping that they’ll connect, this happens.

In case that was too short of a clip, here’s a more thorough one.

Oh, the reactions of the girls I was with.  Most gasped.  My friend Erin inhaled most of the air in the theater (yes, I’ve spelled theatre/er two different ways:  one was a Hamlet/Kenneth way, and one was not.  Deal.).  Me?  I laughed.  Out loud.  REALLY loud.  That’s what I do in stressful situations of surprise.  On space mountain?  I laughed.  When I was in labor (after the Happy Man gave me the Happy Machine), I giggled like a little girl . . . on a Happy Machine.  It’s just my natural response:  HA!

Today when JJ woke up from his nap, he was all grumpylike:  lots of weeping and needing to cuddle.  I turned on the tv to see if we could find something entertaining to make the crankies go away.  Guess what was on?  And it was the beginning:  sweet.  So I left it on until That Scene came on.  What did JJ do?  He giggled.  And looked at me.  And very clearly said, “He fell down.”

Yes, son, yes he did.  That’s my boy.

Entertaining Evidence, JJ Jawings