Yesterday after Gymboree, we watched P & P and this is my oh, so professional movie review. Perhaps my poor attitude is a result of Ally's mom trying to teach the Boo how to "be gentle" in Gymboree since she did such a great job at it with Ally. First and foremost, my kid has a motor skills problem. He can do gentle up until the last three inches, when he loses his balance and goes falling directly into the "honey lovely" aka object of his affection for the second. He is a klutz but he is doing the best he can. I just apologize for him because so you mothers at Gymboree think I give a rat's ass about if my kid pokes your kid's eye out. FYI, I DON'T CARE.
So thanks for the help, B-ee-och, and go back to your clique-y playgroup and continue discussing how you got a great deal on your Soccer Mom uniform at Ralph Lauren last week.
Back to my review. For those of you wondering how I could possible tell you something that happens in P&P, the movie, seeing as you have probably read the book and how could ANYTHING happen in the movie that didn't happen in the book, "nanny-nanny-boo-boo" and here I go. So if your heart is set on betraying the All-Six-Hours-BBC-No-One-Else-Can-Ever-Be-Mr.-Darcy-Except-Colin-Firth true P & P, then you had better stop reading now.
If you are still reading, and I somehow ruin the movie for you, it is your own damn fault as you have been forewarned.
Did anyone own a brush in 1814? I'm going out on a limb to say YES. This movie was reminiscent of Mary McDonnell in Dances With Wolves. During that whole movie, everyone else was perfectly coiffed and for some reason, Ms. McDonnell confused "Dancing With Wolves" with "Raised By Wolves" and had that dirty face with that skanky hair. Same thing here, except no one owned a brush except Caroline Bingley--I guess because she was rich.
Anyone have any idea why they all looked like paupers and there was a gigantic pig running through the house at one point? They weren't poor. Talk about confusing "entailing your estate away from the family" with having no money.
I hate to get all "strict Jane Austen constructionist" on you, but Elizabeth Bennett doesn't get her feelings hurt by Darcy, Darcy doesn't even notice her for the first 1/4 of the book and they certainly aren't two star-crossed lovers like Romeo and Juliet from the second scene of the movie.
But, if you are a huge fan of Sixteen Candles, the final scene was worth the wait. Just substitute our hero and heroine for Samantha and Jake, and you have a winner.
Hollywood gone bad, yet again.
Friday, November 18, 2005
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
What happens when a) I am left unattended and b) you don't return my phone calls
At the risk of opening Pandora's box with the whole "Carl" confusion.....
Today I got a visit from the nice 12-year old investigator asking me questions about Carl for his five-year background investigation update for his very important government job. Carl hasn't returned my last two phone calls so I guess he wasn't too worried about what I might say.
We have a contest every year at Cookie's Annual New Year's Eve party about who said the most outrageous thing to a background investigator (this is when you realize that you know too many people who work for the government--when you are able to have these kinds of competitions). I won last year when the investigator insinuated that I was a lesbian for having a female roommate and I may have gone on a little too long that we were "very, very close." Special thanks to Cathy for encouraging that along when the investigator got to her. You would have thought that the husband and soon-to-be baby would have thrown off her train of thought, but she was tenacious.
Not to be outdone this year (Matt telling the Derek's investigator that he had never seen Derek drunk), I have had a whole 24 hours to prepare for this interview.
After the standard list of questions, I got this one--which I didn't see coming but which laid the groundwork for this year's coup de grace.
I: Do you know if Carl has sponsored anyone to come to the United States? (referring to foreign family members, a mail-order bride or nanny, perhaps--not that he has children or anything)
K: I don't know. You tell me.
I: I'm sorry? (looking very confused)
K: Does he have a wife over there?
I: Over where? (getting the panicked look of an investigator who has now gotten an answer that she wasn't expecting and is at a loss for how to continue)
K: Over at his house. Does he have a wife over there?
I: Huh?
K: Well, you know, Carl is kind of closed-mouth about his personal life. I wouldn't be surprised if he is hiding a spouse over there in his apartment.
Insert sound of VERY LOUD CRICKETS CHIRPING.
K: Ha-ha-ha. Just kidding.
I: Ha. Ha. Ha.
K: No really, I'm just kidding.
Oops.
Today I got a visit from the nice 12-year old investigator asking me questions about Carl for his five-year background investigation update for his very important government job. Carl hasn't returned my last two phone calls so I guess he wasn't too worried about what I might say.
We have a contest every year at Cookie's Annual New Year's Eve party about who said the most outrageous thing to a background investigator (this is when you realize that you know too many people who work for the government--when you are able to have these kinds of competitions). I won last year when the investigator insinuated that I was a lesbian for having a female roommate and I may have gone on a little too long that we were "very, very close." Special thanks to Cathy for encouraging that along when the investigator got to her. You would have thought that the husband and soon-to-be baby would have thrown off her train of thought, but she was tenacious.
Not to be outdone this year (Matt telling the Derek's investigator that he had never seen Derek drunk), I have had a whole 24 hours to prepare for this interview.
After the standard list of questions, I got this one--which I didn't see coming but which laid the groundwork for this year's coup de grace.
I: Do you know if Carl has sponsored anyone to come to the United States? (referring to foreign family members, a mail-order bride or nanny, perhaps--not that he has children or anything)
K: I don't know. You tell me.
I: I'm sorry? (looking very confused)
K: Does he have a wife over there?
I: Over where? (getting the panicked look of an investigator who has now gotten an answer that she wasn't expecting and is at a loss for how to continue)
K: Over at his house. Does he have a wife over there?
I: Huh?
K: Well, you know, Carl is kind of closed-mouth about his personal life. I wouldn't be surprised if he is hiding a spouse over there in his apartment.
Insert sound of VERY LOUD CRICKETS CHIRPING.
K: Ha-ha-ha. Just kidding.
I: Ha. Ha. Ha.
K: No really, I'm just kidding.
Oops.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Do you mean literally or figuratively?
The pediatrician, after looking at the Boo's 'stats' for his 9-month check-up/emotional-scarring-through-giving-excessive-shots-and-vaccines remarked, "do abnormally large heads run in your family?"
It's a trick question, right?
It's a trick question, right?
Monday, November 14, 2005
We're back
OK, so we have been back for 26 hours, but who's counting?
Might I just take this opportunity to say that, despite taking an infant on a 1,000 mile road trip, I had a lovely time. The photos of the wedding are up and I will try to add pictures of the old 1801 home of D's great, great, great, (I'm getting bored here) great, great grandfather.
The wedding was fabulous and my eyelashes were the envy of the bridal party. I heard many a "damn, I should have worn MY eyelashes today" muttering. But special thanks goes to my dear friend Renee, 10-year-4H-sewing veteran who assisted me in the making of the stole that will go down in history as the most BLOODY BRILLIANT ARTICLE OF CLOTHING EVER WORN TO AN OUTDOOR WEDDING IN NOVEMBER. Not only did I stay warm and toasty as the photographer almost had a heart attack trying to get the somewhat pickled groomsmen to where they were supposed to be for pictures, I was like the girl on her way to the bar crawl/bachelorette party that decides at the last minute to go with the FMPs AND the feather boa.
That's right. At any given point of the evening, someone was stealing the stole from my shoulders to assist them in completing a complex drunken dance maneuver on the dance floor. It was worth every inch of that $39.99/yard fabric.
Dancing Queen. You betcha.
Might I just take this opportunity to say that, despite taking an infant on a 1,000 mile road trip, I had a lovely time. The photos of the wedding are up and I will try to add pictures of the old 1801 home of D's great, great, great, (I'm getting bored here) great, great grandfather.
The wedding was fabulous and my eyelashes were the envy of the bridal party. I heard many a "damn, I should have worn MY eyelashes today" muttering. But special thanks goes to my dear friend Renee, 10-year-4H-sewing veteran who assisted me in the making of the stole that will go down in history as the most BLOODY BRILLIANT ARTICLE OF CLOTHING EVER WORN TO AN OUTDOOR WEDDING IN NOVEMBER. Not only did I stay warm and toasty as the photographer almost had a heart attack trying to get the somewhat pickled groomsmen to where they were supposed to be for pictures, I was like the girl on her way to the bar crawl/bachelorette party that decides at the last minute to go with the FMPs AND the feather boa.
That's right. At any given point of the evening, someone was stealing the stole from my shoulders to assist them in completing a complex drunken dance maneuver on the dance floor. It was worth every inch of that $39.99/yard fabric.
Dancing Queen. You betcha.
Sunday, November 13, 2005
When fun turns to tragedy
You know, I have never given my sister crap for how she raises her kids. If she doesn't care if they don't bathe for 5 days in a row, what do I care? If they want to discuss politics at age 2, so be it. But I have noticed that my sister is not very respectful of my parenting. Of the dog, that is.
Zinni went to my sister's house while we went up north this week. This morning my phone rings and it is my sister.
J: (kind of hesitant) Hey.
K: (thinking they have managed to kill the dog) Is everything OK?
J: Yeah, we love Zinni. It's like he is our dog. But....
K: But what?
J: I think we may have managed to erase all of his dog manners while you were gone. This morning I came downstairs and he was snoring as he slept on my beige couch. He didn't even bother to get up.
K: WHAT???? DID YOU PUNISH HIM???
J: Well.....I told him that he was a bad dog. We are kind of taking the 'attachment parenting' method with the dog.
K: You didn't punish him?
J: Sort of. And yesterday Carter didn't finish his peaches and Zinni kind of got up on the chair and ate the peaches out of Carter's bowl on the table.
K: (beginning to hyperventilate as I envisioned the 90-pound dog on a dining room chair) Did you punish him?
J: We put him in the cellar after he got crazy upstairs with the kids and scratched Carter. Mada took him right downstairs and put him in the cellar.
K: You said, "Hey, you wearing the fur coat in the hot house, we are going to punish you by taking you AWAY from the 5 kids driving you crazy and put you in the cold, quiet cellar." Yeah, that was good.
J: Well, (sounding affronted) should I have hit him?
K: Ah, no, he has a choke chain for a reason. If he is bad, you pull on the chain and tell him no.
J: That's cruel.
K: How's it going getting all that black hair off the beige couch?
Detox is going to be long and complicated, I'm sure. Wait until the dog has to sleep on the floor again. Poor Zinni.
Zinni went to my sister's house while we went up north this week. This morning my phone rings and it is my sister.
J: (kind of hesitant) Hey.
K: (thinking they have managed to kill the dog) Is everything OK?
J: Yeah, we love Zinni. It's like he is our dog. But....
K: But what?
J: I think we may have managed to erase all of his dog manners while you were gone. This morning I came downstairs and he was snoring as he slept on my beige couch. He didn't even bother to get up.
K: WHAT???? DID YOU PUNISH HIM???
J: Well.....I told him that he was a bad dog. We are kind of taking the 'attachment parenting' method with the dog.
K: You didn't punish him?
J: Sort of. And yesterday Carter didn't finish his peaches and Zinni kind of got up on the chair and ate the peaches out of Carter's bowl on the table.
K: (beginning to hyperventilate as I envisioned the 90-pound dog on a dining room chair) Did you punish him?
J: We put him in the cellar after he got crazy upstairs with the kids and scratched Carter. Mada took him right downstairs and put him in the cellar.
K: You said, "Hey, you wearing the fur coat in the hot house, we are going to punish you by taking you AWAY from the 5 kids driving you crazy and put you in the cold, quiet cellar." Yeah, that was good.
J: Well, (sounding affronted) should I have hit him?
K: Ah, no, he has a choke chain for a reason. If he is bad, you pull on the chain and tell him no.
J: That's cruel.
K: How's it going getting all that black hair off the beige couch?
Detox is going to be long and complicated, I'm sure. Wait until the dog has to sleep on the floor again. Poor Zinni.
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