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 | 1 Comment »

This has got to be one of the COOLEST things I’ve seen in a while.

I don’t know who I’d be:  crazy floofy mama?  Long-legged one-man band?  The woman who is practically perfect in every way?  The manic high-flying uncle?
Actually, I do know who I’d be:  just gotta find me some crazy pants.

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Many many moons ago when the Hubby and I were lacking a JJ and a few extra pounds, I worked at a library and he played in a band.  That’s how we met, really:  I came home for Thanksgiving, and some friends of mine from high school were playing a show.  I spotted a cute bass player, and well, the rest is history.

BUT if I hadn’t been so focused on said bass player, I would’ve noticed that there were other members of the band, one being a drummer with crazy blonde locks and a smile that charmed so many girls that he had his own fan club.  As it usually happens with bands, things shifted – folks came and went, and the drummer moved into the keyboardist arena.  Not a shabby thing considering he played his own show with just him, his lovely locks and vocals, and the piano.

Finally the hubby’s band . . . “took a break.”  The keyboardist kept pursuing writing and performing his own music, and because he knows a good bass player when he hears one, he’s occassionally asks the Hubby to accompany him on his solo gigs.

Life’s changed.  Hubs has a steady job; I do as well, though it doesn’t seem to bring in the ka-ching.  A little man with the bass player’s dimples and skin tone (oh, the beautiful skin tone!) has made an appearance.  And the keyboardist has gone on to make some cds, tour, and rangle up some more kiddies for the fan club.

The other night while listening to 94.7, the *best* radio station EVER, a show called “Get Local” came on, spotlighting a P-town artist.  The piano.  The voice.

HEY!  That’s Bryan Free!  Our friend, on the radio, all famous-like!!!  Great song!  JJ jammed out the entire time, first bopping his head, and then dancing:  it was precious.  Another junkie for the fan club.

You can find out more about Bryan here and here and you can listen to stuff here.

Dude, we know that guy on the radio:  sweet.

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You know it’s time to turn off Season 2 of Arrested Development when:

• Your son could care less about “Bob the Builder” (can we fix it?!!?) but will sit still for “Motherboy XXX“.

• The theme song comes on (plinkie plinkie plinkie plinkie – to be specific), and both you and your son immediately start doing the Wiggledance (which consists of sitting down and moving your upperbody back and forth like a sideways Bobble Doll). In fact, at the first notes, your son immediately looks at you for approval of “We get to wiggle now, yes?”

• You are walking down the cereal isle, and all of a sudden you are crippled from walking upright and must instead flounce around because “The Final Countdown” is playing on the Safeway Music Channel

• Due to recent “The Final Countdown” incident, when paying for your groceries, you try to make exact change by spraying pennies from your sleeves, and are really sad when you can’t.

No more half-day at Army; back to the Banana Stand.

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*WARNING*: If you haven’t watched last night’s episode of “24” – a) don’t read this and 2) WHAT WERE YOU DOING?!!?

Today is a very sad day: it marks the potential passing of a beloved family member for the past five years – Tony Almeida of CTU. His car exploded, his wife (the lovely Michelle) died, he was burned and in a half-day coma, he was in a building that had nerve gas pumped into the ventilation system, and he tried to kill the guy who was involved in the killing of his wife – but that dude ended up killing him and not in a pain-free way (well, we assume Tony’s dead; unfortunately the hour passed before we got the results, but with his words of “she’s gone” to Jack, one can assume). So Tony’s bad days are finally over.

So today is a day of wearing black, particularly since Tony did not get the honor of the silent clock like Lispy McGee (Edgar) did. Here are a few gems as we all say “thanks for the memories.”
Milo: What do you think they’re going to do to Jack?
Tony Almeida: Not going to name a street after him, that’s for sure.

Tony Almeida: You mind telling me what’s going on around here tonight?
Jack Bauer: What’s going on? You mean besides a 747 falling out of the sky and a threat on a presidential candidate’s life?
Tony Almeida: Yeah, besides that.

Tony Almeida: So, uh, what are we saying here? If we save LA from a nuclear bomb, then you and I can get together for dinner and a movie?

Ryan Chappelle: So what’s up, my friend?
Tony Almeida: Well, it’s like this, Ryan: Either fire me, or get out of my chair.

Tony Almeida: Chloe, I’m getting real tired of your personality.

Henry Powell: Who are you guys? Police? FBI?
Tony Almeida: Actually, I’m currently unemployed.

Tony Almeida: Some people feel more comfortable in hell.

Michelle Dessler: I’ll go anywhere with you… as long as I don’t have to cook.
Tony Almeida: [laughing] Sweetheart, if you promise not to cook I will take you with me anywhere.

Entertaining Evidence | 1 Comment »

• Warning: Not for those who blush and are offended by mention of girly bits

So I’ve mentioned that on Sunday nights my hubby and I play “Monday’s not really coming” by staying up late and watching whatever happens to be on TV. Which for us is Grey’s Anatomy. There’s one character we watch it for: Dr. Bailey, who I guess is some kind of supervisor. She’s this spunky woman who smacks down whoever – doctors, interns, etc. – any chance she gets.  I guess she was pregnant because one episode we tuned into she was giving birth.

I didn’t really pay attention, obviously since it’s a “let’s just leave the TV on and deny life starts again soon” show, until one point when she was being examined. She was already very cranky (something about her husband got hurt on the way to the hospital so he was in surgery and she was denying the forces of labor because he wasn’t there), and her a very shy intern/doctor/resident/whoever they are was trying to convince her to be examined.  She gave in, they probably had a touching moment, and then out of the blue she barked: “O’Malley: stop looking at my vajayjay!” (See, Gran and Uncle Bubba: you didn’t really want to read this). I laughed. A lot.

Then today, laying on the couch with a weather-changing-induced headache (storm’s coming in: I have a better barometer than Mary Poppins), I had the tv on and at some point was dozing to Dr. 90210, that horrible Hollywood plastic surgeon “reality” show. He was fat-sucking one of his receptionists – this teeny tiny woman who had no fat but felt “flabby and had low self-esteem” after having a baby: whatever. Even he commented that he couldn’t get any fat out of her.

He didn’t just take the two ounces of flab off of her body. He also engaged in a very important, life-giving procedure – his favorite in fact.  He gave her a vajayjay tuck. Yes, you heard me right. And so did my grandparents who are rolling in their graves and probably blaming my Yankee upbringing for watching such things (and my mother would say that she raised me better than this.  Which she did.  But i was transfixed:  I mean, EW).  The most disturbing part? At the end of the surgery he leaned back, examined his work, and deemed it “adorable.” ADORABLE!  Words fail me at this point.
Dr. Ray then went to some special event to earn his black belt, a process which has taken him over seven years (twice as long as medical school: I don’t know which fact is scarier). Yeah, earning your black belt will take away the memory of what you said and establish our confidence in your manhood. Oy.

Daily Drivel, Entertaining Evidence | 3 Comments »

• Sudoku

• Crap TV

• Flashbacks to a simpler time

Last night as I was sitting on the couch working on my Sunday Monster Sudoku and my husband was plunking around on his computer (can’t you hear the noise? Plunkplunkplunkplunk. I’m sure it was Very Official IT Business), a person’s voice on the TV brought back memories from the distant past.

“That’s a Cusack!” I yelled. Jason turned around, shrugged, and continued to plunk.

See, I was also in somewhat of a delirious state. Jason and I were engaging in our “tomorrow isn’t really Monday” routine which consists of us staying up way to late Sunday night watching whatever happens to be on TV because the moment we go to bed we’re confirming that we do have to put the weekend to a rest and get back to daily life – and that’s not fun. One might note that getting up on Monday morning without proper amounts of sleep is not fun, either, but hey: if you’re tired enough, maybe you just won’t remember it.

Our crap Sunday show to watch as of late is “Grey’s Anatomy,” mostly because it’s on after “DH” which I fully admit that I do watch but only for Felicity Huffman’s character (which is somewhat of a religious experience as I thank God that I don’t have that many kids under the age of seven). Jason and I don’t really know about the characters on GA – so and so likes so and so, they’re interns, people sleep around, people get sick – some get better and some die. Wow: so unlike other doctor shows. Last night was an important show, I think, but sudoku was so much more important.

And then I heard the voice: the voice of Ann Cusack (which I confirmed this morning – thank you for posting photos, imdb). Ann Cusack is one of The Cusacks which includes beloved John and Joan. Ann had a short-lived sitcom that one of my friend’s from high school was in (well, he dated my friend, and he was friends with my friend’s brother, so yeah: he was a friend). But my favorite appearance from Ann was with three of her other siblings in one of my AllTimeFavorite movies: Grosse Pointe Blank.

And so I leave you with some pearls of wisdom from one of the Greatest Movies Ever: it’ll change your life – trust me.

Martin Blank: They all have husbands and wives and children and houses and dogs, and, you know, they’ve all made themselves a part of something and they can talk about what they do. What am I gonna say? “I killed the president of Paraguay with a fork. How’ve you been?”

Mr. Newberry: What have you been doing with your life?
Martin Blank: Uh… professional killer.
Mr. Newberry: Oh! Good for you, it’s a… growth industry.

Paul: Hey Jenny Slater. Hey Jenny Slater. Hey Jenny Slater.

Dr. Oatman: Don’t kill anybody for a few days. See what it feels like.
Martin Blank: Alright, I’ll give it a shot.
Dr. Oatman: No, don’t give it a shot! Don’t shoot anything!

Marcella: Sir, they’re very unhappy.
Martin Blank: I’m very unhappy.
Marcella: It was supposed to look like a heart attack! He was supposed to die in his sleep!
Martin Blank: Well, he moved.

Debi: What is this I’m feeling? Is it pain? Panic? Hunger? Am I hungry? Who’s hungry?

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