I Think I Just Saw Timothy Leary

Todd and I went to see Men Who Stare At Goats tonight, and it was absolutely hilarious. It is a tad unsettling, because you know some of the craziness depicted is true. One example: testing LSD on soldiers.

The only negative thing I can say about it is it had a good bit of foul language.

It's not getting very good reviews, but I think people are morons. It's got a wonderful cast, and it's just downright funny in that bluntly honest sort of way.

Love it.

Best line ever given by an overly trippy Jeff Bridges: "I think I just saw Timothy Leary..." I almost died laughing.

Go see it.

Story Time!

I'm in the mood to tell a story to all my faithful followers. All *counts on fingers* two of you (Seriously, since I quit blogging/commenting regularly my vast array of readers have given up on me.). :(

So, as I was saying...a story.

Once upon a time, in a land not so far away, there lived a beautiful curly haired queen. Let's call her Heather, shall we? Okay! So, Queen Heather lived in her humbler-than-most-castles castle, with her handsome king. His name was Todd. King Todd.

Well, one day Queen Heather was running late for a very important meeting with her dear friend Princess Ari! Queen Heather should have hopped on her trusty steed, and been on her way to The Land of Hunts like a fortnight ago, but the evil King made her late! He forced her to sleep in, to finish the second to last Harry Potter book, and refused to help her be on time! Forced and refused, I say!

Despite her extremely agreeable nature, the queen decided to challenge the king. Outraged at this, the king threw a sock at her head! Yes, a sock! It hit her hard, but she managed to drag her half-conscious self to the bathroom, and dispose of the sock in the water closet forthright.

This angered the king even more, and he threatened to dispose of one of the queen's most prized possessions-her flesh colored brazier! :O This frightened the fair queen something awful, so she begged the king to have mercy, and he did.

Then the king locked himself away in his study, refusing to see the queen off for her outing. He knew everything was really all his fault, but he was a stubborn king, and slow to accept due blame.

The poor mistreated queen had no choice but to leave without a proper farewell. She bid no one adieu, and parted to The Land of Hunts.

Upon arriving at her destination, the queen sent the king a telegraph. He responded promptly with an apology, and all was well again.

Queen Heather and the fair Princess Ari were then free to be jovial and celebratory, and they all lived happily ever after.

The End

Accentuate The Positive

Mondays. Mondays. Mondays. They pretty much just suck all around now. Especially since Ari and I moved our girls' night to Tuesdays. Ho-hum. At least I look forward to Tuesdays now. So, NOT TALKING ABOUT TODAY. NOT. NOT. NOT.

Let's talk about happy things!

Sunday night the husband person and I went to see Monsters vs. Aliens. Cute movie. Nice date.

We were the ONLY ones that showed for the 8:30PM showing. Sweet! Eighteen bucks got us our own private theater. I smuggled in some gobstoppers, and we paid a ridiculous four dollars for a frozen bottle of water. That's right. Four dollars for plastic covered ice. Not so sweet, but we dealt.

We got to relax, put our feet up and enjoy the show. Frozen water or not, it was great.

I don't want to spoil anything for anyone, but I must say that Hugh Laurie and Kiefer Sutherland's voices make the movie. Hilarious. Especially Sutherland's character.

Okay. Go see it. ^_^

Such A Noob

I have had many an unintellectual moment in my 26 years, but not many of them have mortified me. Most of the time I can laugh things off. I'm totally capable of admitting that I made a mistake and moving on, but sometimes the sting of error lingers. Oh, how it lingers.

On Sunday Todd and I ventured to Ari's house for a little shindig. A little football. Some house warming and the like.

On the way there I decided to call a friend of mine. He was thinking of attending this wee and glorious event, but sounded a little tentative the night before. So, my plan was to give him a nudge out the door.

I picked up my phone, went to my contacts, found his name and dialed. Once the voice on the other end picked up I knew what I had done...I called his ex! Auugh!!

My mind went blank as her sweet voice repeated it's greeting. Finally, I mustered an "I'm sorry. Wrong number.", but she wasn't having it. She questioned me!

See, we live in Alabama. This ex lives in another state. An entirely different state than the one she had lived in when living with this friend o' mine. So, she thought it a bit fishy that an Alabama number, with the same area code as her ex mind you, would be calling her by mistake. She asked if I was sure that I had the wrong number, cause it was weird that I'd be calling her from Alabama.

I wanted to crawl in a hole and die, but I pressed on. I stuck with my "Wrong number. So sorry!" bit, until she said my name. Weep. Sob. Sigh.

Seriously?! We're on the phone for 15 seconds, and this chick that I've never met or spoken to before in my life just managed to blow my stupid friend cover?! Only me!

At that point I just said "Hi". I admitted that: I hadn't deleted her number, it was really awkward, I was trying to call him, and I was terribly sorry to have bothered her. I was mortified.

Here's this poor girl, trying to get over this relationship gone awry, and I call her! This was not a nice break-up. Not nice at all. I thought surely she would have a few choice words for me, but she was sweet as pie. Like we were just catching up.

We talked for a few minutes. She said she would really like to meet me someday, and that she was glad I called. Then she offered me the correct number, which I declined, since I had it already!!!

Only me.

So, I've come to the conclusion that she has coped quite well, and is pretty much right as rain. My friend, on the other hand, curses the state in which she lives.

I still haven't deleted her number.

Heather Primavera

I consider myself to be a pretty understanding person. I don't normally jump to conclusions, or react harshly, but sometimes I want to. Oh, how I want to.

This weekend Todd and I made a mad dash to the grocery store for some much needed items. Among these was pasta sauce for my world famous three cheese ravioli. ^__^

Now, normally we do the whole self check out thing for minimum human interaction. It saves on time and energy, and will eventually eliminate any need for cashiers. Wonderful people, I'm sure. I just have an aversion to them.

On this occasion we went to a manned check out. The lady was nice, but obviously not well. Runny nose, blood shot eyes, coughing...really gross and germy. Definitely in need of some cough syrup and a nap. But no. She's at Walmart, serving Satan!

So, we do the whole stand there, smile, pay and "have a nice night, hope you feel better" thing. Then we escape with our cart. We grab our few bags and out the door we go.

Standing next to the truck, in the cold, I wait for Todd to open the tail gate. All of a sudden the heavy bag I'm resting over my shoulder gets a lot lighter. I hear glass shattering and instantly my leg is cold and I smell the sweet aroma of Prego(with mushrooms).

Check out chick must've been doped up on some NyQuil after all. She put the ginormous jar of spaghetti sauce in a bag with a 2 liter. Smart much?! I realize I could've paid attention to her bagging expertise, but I shouldn't have to!

I laughed it off and went and cleaned up. I looked like I'd been mauled by Theo. From the knee down my right leg was covered in red. It was a gory mess.

Yes. I waltzed up to customer service and told them what happened. Yes. They replaced the pasta sauce. Yes. They apologized whole heartily, and I smiled and said things like: It's fine. It's okay. It's not your fault.

It's not fine. It's not okay. My pants are ruined and it is their fault. I even did magical-get-stain-out stuff, and there are still orange spots on my corduroys. That woman should've been home nursing that cold. Not absent mindedly bagging my groceries.

Sometimes I wish I could just be mean.

Power & Glory

Alright people. I'm aware that here in blogger world we're all respectful of one another's beliefs and whatnot. By respectful, I mean that I normally refrain from blogging for Jesus(plus the thought of this just kills me). Depending on the flavor of the post many, if not all, of you would be bored to tears. However, I've found something I must share, in order to gather opinions.

A friend of mine gave me this book on c.d. It's called Flabbergasted. So, I've only listened to a little of it, and am not totally sure what I think yet. I haven't gotten much past the character building part, but it's funny so far.

The last part I heard before getting to work this morning was an interesting conversation. This one character had just been pulled over for speeding, and had managed to wrangle the police officer into a conversation. What kind of car would Jesus drive? That was the conversation. I c-r-a-c-k-e-d up!

First they pondered Jesus in a Lincoln, or something equally as ginormous and supposedly fancy. Then they did it. They roped me into listening to the rest of that possibly not-so-interesting novel. I believe it was the cop that offered that Jesus would drive an old muscle car. For all the power and glory.

It makes me think of that old song. My Own Personal Jesus. Anyway, I can so see Jesus in an old Chevelle. All cammed up and sparkly...with racing stripes. I'm usually a Ford or Mopar gal myself, but Chevelles are pretty powerful and glorious. Don't cha think? ^__^