movin right along

I'm so excited! Family Vacation 2006 is only one day away. Remember the Muppet Movie, when Kermit and Fozzie are singing "Movin right along/ chunga chunga chunk/ foot loose and fancy free/ getting there is half the fun/ come share it with me...." That song rocks. That movie rocks. Not even a sore tush could ruin the excitement of a Road Trip. See y'all in a week!

happy pills

You know the drugs they gave you for your pain are finally working when you wake up with cotton mouth :) I feel 17 again.

The first step is a doozie

Yes, I did it. I broke my butt. Litterally. Snapped my tail bone like the snap of your fingers. Freakin hurt like hell. Wait - that was past tense -- I mean Hurtss like hell. I added that extra s for emphasis. I am such an idiot.

The kids had finally gone to sleep. Excited for school being over, they stayed up as late as they wanted -- 10:30pm, really more like 11. Finally alone, husband and I decided to watch a movie. It was a stupid boring movie, one I was not that into, but it starred William Shatner, so we had to watch. Yes, Shatner. Yes, we were watching it. Are we pathetic, or what?

As I was "concentrating" on "watching" the movie, I remembered the laundry in the basement, which was done and needed my attention. So hubby and I did one of these things: "oh! the laundry!" "I'll get it dear, " "no - I'll get it," "no, let me.." (you can see we both really wanted to watch this movie!) So I ran to the basement steps, took the first one a bit too fast, and just like a Batman comic I was like Bam! Kerpow! Splat! on my butt down about 2 or 3 steps.

It hurt so much I thought I'd puke. It hurt so much my butt saw stars! But, ever the "I don't need no stinkin help" kinda woman that I am, I was like "Feh! I'll walk it off." Walk? Sure. Sit? Aint gonna happen today, lady. So after about 20 minutes of pacing and bending, and trying unsuccessfully to sit, I drove myself to the emergency room.

Walking yourself into the ER totally feels ridiculous. I mean, you're walking, you're talking, there's no blood oozing, like, why are you bothering them? So I say to the pasty-faced teen behind the welcome desk, "Plese don't laugh, but I think I've broken my butt."

2 nurses, 1 doctor, and four hours later, my fears were confirmed. After a "series" of x-rays all zoned in on my caboose, it was undeniably clear -- So they sent me home with a rx for motrin, and said "good-luck with that!"

So kiddies, this wraps up another story in our long list entitled: "Listen To Your Husband Already! He's Here To Help You!"

worth the wait

Mr. Sardonicus was the Scarriest. Movie. Ever. Holy crimolies -- totally frightening.

Chilled

When I was a kid, I grew up in a really old house that in the night was really really scary. I mean like horror movie scary. Sometimes even in the daylight it was scary. Our house was over 100 years old, and had in the back yard an old red barn with horse stables and everything. So think old creepy farm house - white, black shutters. Get the picture? Ok. So at night sometimes my brother and I would watch horror movies that would scare the crap out of us. One time, we watched this movie, and the movie was so freakin scary we talked about it, he and I, for years. Whenever someone talked about this movie or that movie being frightening, my brother and I would look at each other, and be like 'no way, man... we know of the scariest movie of all time.' And yet, we only saw the movie once, and we never knew its name -- but we were completely freaked out for about 10 years after watching it. I think when we saw it, I was around 7 or 8 years old, and my brother was either 10 or 11.

All I remember from the movie is that there was this man, and a woman, and they were arguing in this old place, and he wore a velvet smoking jacket with satin trim, and he was really creepy. They knew of a winning lottery ticket that was buried with someone who had recently died, and they had to go get the ticket. So the man went and dug up the coffin, and opened it-- and all you saw was the back of the man digging, and then, the back of him as he opens the coffin, and then you see the ticket -- but then, the man turns around to get out of the ground, and his face has frozen in the most awful kind of grimace -- his nose is like a pigs, and his smile goes from ear to ear, stretched all out of proportion -- I remember screaming my head off at this guys face, and for weeks after, my brother and I would push our noses up and stretch our cheeks out to scare each other half to death.

This was one of those experiences that every once in a while I'd think of it, and a chill would go down my spine, and I'd be freaked out for like days just thinking of it.

So now, I'm a librarian. And I'm sure I could have googled this description or something years ago, and found out what the heck this movie was. But I didn't. However, last night, my husband did. Just as a lark. I think he googled 'lottery ticket buried dug up movie.' And you know what? He Found It. My stomach feels sick just thinking of it. Its called Mr. Sardonicus. And we ordered it online. And its coming in the mail in a few days.

I called my brother right away. Getting his machine, all I said was 'you gotta call me - no matter how late.' But that wouldn't do. I called his cell phone, interrupted his dinner out, and as soon as I started to ask him 'remember that movie, with the guy' he cuts me off, instantly knowing what I'm talking about, "is it on!?" I explain to him how my husband found it, and that its available to buy, and he says I gotta get him a copy too. He says that when we watched that movie our babysitter, or whoever was watching us, was in the other room, and Fleetwood Mac's Rhiannon was playing in the background at that awful scary part, and that when he hears that song he gets the chills. Just thinking about it makes my skin crawl. I know exactly what he means. So -- Mr. Sardonicus is on his way. I'll keep you posted!

Consistently inconsistent

My bad - its been awhile. Again. I am consistently inconsistent.

So -- have you ever found yourself having bad thoughts at inopportune moments? Case in point - I'm at an award type of thing for a very serious subject, but the guy in my periphery is picking at scabs behind his ear, inspecting the flakes, and flicking them out from under his fingernail. Truly. How do you handle the gross-out factor, while trying to listen to things that are a.)important b.)quite serious and c.)of a nature that deserves your full attention. My mind wandered. It had to! This man, this person, was pick pick picking at his flaky 80+ year old head, In-specting the shit, and then flicking it in my general vicinity. Ho-boy was I truly and completely in the 'get me the f outta here' stage!

Another one -- And one I am loathe to admit, but I've let it sit for a few years now, so I think I'm ready to share.... I'm at services for Yom Kippur - the most serious and holy day of the entire year. People are somber. The dress code is basic black. The hush factor is huge. In the row behind me, and too my left, sits a kid around 18 years old, with 2 older women, I'm guessing an aunt and a mom. The 2 women are talking - first mistake, and the kid is texting people on his cell phone -- big mistake number two. He click click clicks his texts, and my blood starts to boil. While the 2 yentas keep at it with the horseshit conversation. I am sitting there, in services, trying to concentrate - no- trying to REPENT for my sins, and this jackhole is now TALKING to someone on his cell phone, because I suppose texting them wasnt enough, they now had to hear his whinny voice. You know he picked up this bad behavior from his mother, I mean, its obvious, as THE WOMAN IS STILL TALKING!! People all around us have turned and given them the evil eye, made little shushhing noises, coughed in an "ah-hem" kinda way, and still this family goes on talking! So - I did it. I had to. For the love of all that is holy in this world, I did it. I turned slowly around in my chair, placed my hand on the 18 year olds knee, looked him dead in the eye, and said 'Put the fucking phone down, and shut the hell up,' and then, for good measure, when his mother and aunt did the intake of air gasp, I looked at them both and said 'that's right bitch, you too.' Then I slowly turned back around, found my place in the book, and asked G-d to forgive me.