Celebrity Sighting #Henderson!

I was very excited to hear the Sklars were doing a show in San Francisco. I was all geared up to get my bearings and meet my husband after work to them as it is so unfair to ask him to go on weekends since he already goes five days a week. 

And then the jury duty summons came and I was crushed. Not so much because they finally called me, but I'm not strong enough to do so much at once. I'll admit my anxiety is ridiculous and I let it stop me from many things. In this case though, I let my resolve consume me and I bought those damn tickets. That's right!

After being a member of the justice squadron, I took my nap and hoped I could be at my peak for this show. I did well. I had my food rations, I got on public transit and using my previous experiences, knew what triggers to expect and squashed all beginning phases of panic. I even had people ask me about train schedules. I didn't know the answer, but I had Google to tell me how.

Through my terrible navigation I made it to my husband's office and realized eating is a good idea. Downed my pre-packed dinner and with my legs starting to feel fatigue I gently requested a cab instead of walking. Best ten bucks of the night spent. 

I hate general admission. People today have no problems showing up hours early to get good seats. I want to be rich so I can slip someone some money and get a good view. But I could see the stage and was happy to get this comedy started.

I see so many commercials for energy shots and the big claim is no crash afterwards. I do not take energy anything, but my crash came about eight thirty that night. I know performers develop a thick skin but many still fixate on the one person in the room not laughing. To that poor opening and middle act, please know that if I were in any other state of mind, I’d be cracking up.  You were great. But on this night, I could not muster the energy to smile. My body was betraying me and I got just enough strength in me to tell my husband that I wanted to go home. It was my night and he told me that he wanted to stay, but knowing me, if I wanted to leave, we could.

I love him so much. I was nearly shaking and wanted to find a bed and sob into a pillow. Instead I went into the bathroom and cried through the middle act. When that nervous energy left me, I was calm and ready to tough out the show I wanted to see.

It was within ten seconds that they came on stage and I was captivated by laughs. Soon my panic and exhaustion was gone and all that was left was a desire to scream ZOOM after every punch line. Can't remember the last time I was allowed to laugh so loudly in public. The show ended and I silently cursed the waitress for taking so long to get me the bill. She was a good server so I tipped well, but I didn't want to wait forever to meet the Sklars after the show. The line moved quickly and they were still very energetic. I told them I was promised a hug and a Henderson and they delivered. Like the good geeks they are, asked if I wanted my new Sklarbro Country shirt signed or kept pristine. They signed my ticket and I got a totally rocking picture with my favorite comedy twins. 

I was so jazzed as we left it didn't occur to me that I had to pee. It became very apparent when I was reminded there were no bathrooms available at the station. I used my politeness to get back into the club and use the bathroom. This time my release was biological and not emotional. I went home that night very content that I did not bail on a chance to meet two of my comedy heroes. Even better, my husband was proud of me. I know I'm a big coward, but there are some experiences where I will rise to the occasion. Promise me a hug and a Henderson and that will be one of them.

12 Angry Birds

Last Friday I had to go to jury duty for first time in my almost thirty years. (More accurately, in my twelve eligible years.) I was prepared to be there for a large portion of my Friday.....before the holiday....that I didn't get off anyway.....yeah. I promised myself that I would not get my hopes up that they wouldn't need me. That we would be let go early. That I would get to Skype justice in from home in my pajamas. Instead I packed a bag full of panic attack reducing meals and snacks, five bottles of water, four layers of clothes, one fully charged and podcast filled iPod, one fully charged Nook, my phone charger, and a book I got for Christmas in the event all electronics failed me.

I promised myself I would go into this with a positive attitude and with the intention to be as honest as possible. After going through the metal detector twice since they made be take my camera and eye glass repair screwdriver back to my car, I found a table near an outlet and waited for the employees to arrive to check us in. Slow moving line, but I've suffered worse. I was mostly concerned about losing access to an outlet, but victory and the last outlet was mine.

The nice lady next to me, whom I mentally classified as my new bunk mate, asked me if I had a dime she could swap for pennies. She wanted to avoid having to go to her car and subsequently be patted down by security again. I didn't need her pennies and the dime got her enough for her breakfast diet Coke. It was a small investment of good will. She watched my stuff as I used the restroom.

I thought books would be my way to kill time and I forgot that I need near silence to concentrate. For me reading cannot be done when you have a guy clearing his messages on his cell phone on full blast two seats away. On the other side, we had two women shooting the shit while the rest of us are trying to be lost in our own person spaces. It didn't even have to be a loud conversation because it's essentially a library where no one is trying to maintain a quite environment. Any sound is grating. So I gave up on my attempt at reading and brought out my podcasts. 

Wow, I'm spoiled. The cell phone guy was so loud and I did not want to destroy my future self's hearing so I gave up on the Sklar Brothers. (Temporarily. More on that later.) By this point I was already two hours into my day and trying to figure out what to do to get to lunch break. Then it hit me. When I was on a plane to Japan for eleven hours, I gave into my mostly denied inner gamer and played Bejeweled. Oh man, without even thinking about it, I had burned three and a half hours getting the shiny things to match up in shiny rows of three or more.

So in this waiting room of law and order (or I guess just order if you go by Dick Wolf shows) I got my phone out, found Angry Birds and attempted to catch up on my back log of uncompleted levels. It was only a blink of an eye to me, but twenty minutes later an announcement that our services would not be needed and we were free to go. I must state for the record that I understand how damn lucky I was that jury duty was such a breeze for me. Rather than return to work as a zombie and knowing that I would have to be there on the holiday on Monday......yeah.....I went home and took a nap. I would need my energy for my next adventure only a scant nine hours away......

Instant Substitution

Yeah, they're pretty much the same movie.

If they were sold out of Scarface, and were substituting Rock of Ages, I'd be outraged. But considering it's the other way around, that's okay. There was also a Magic Mike substitution, despite the fact that there was a copy right above the sign. Yes, naked Channing Tatum is totally the same as a Steve Harvey romantic comedy. Good job Target.

Stub Flub

I went to go see The Hobbit with my brother last Friday. I have a complicated history with the Lord of the Rings movies. I have gotten so much better in my older age, but it used to be I refused to see a movie with someone who had already seen it. In fact, I would be pissed if someone I knew had seen a movie before me. At the time, I was friends with so many nerds; of course they had all seen it without me. I went begrudgingly with two of my closest friends at the time.

When the next year rolled around, I had plans to see Two Towers with the above said friends, more of my friends and boyfriend. Stuff happened and I'm not proud of it, but the evening resulted in one of my most shameful drama fueled bull shit moments of my life. I didn't go and now I had no one to go with that fit criteria number one. I then "settled" for going with my brother, and Two Towers ended up being my favorite. Going with my brother became one of the most wonderful experiences of my life.

I would freaking get it right the last time, damn it! I would shake the Etch-A-Sketch and see a damn hobbit movie with my boyfriend and we would enjoy Return of the King. Well, even with at least the entire trilogy together as a couple, miscommunication happened and he went without me. FUCK! So I went with one of my Fellowship friends.

Well, here we are over a decade later. I've married that man and The Hobbit (eventual) trilogy would be our chance to enjoy Tolkien together on the big screen. Yes, we watch the trilogy every year together and bond in nerdiness, and I do not feel the need to wipe the slate clean, so much as celebrate how we (and by we, I mean I) have matured.

So those of you with comprehensive reading skills might be asking by now, if this was the wonderful chance to see big screen Tolkien together, what happened that you saw it with your brother? Excellent question, now calm down.

I see my brother maybe twice a year. Living across the country from each other will do that to your relationship. On his annual holiday trip, he floated the idea of seeing The Hobbit on my day off. Suddenly the need to do my Sheldon Cooper style movie preparation rituals were not as important as revisiting the Two Towers fun of seeing Middle Earth with my kin. Even better, I do not have to lie to him, so I didn't feel bad about my going to pee three times before the movie, sneaking in multiple types of food, and getting there early enough to pick the correctly angled seats. We even fought to see who would spring for the tickets. Though I felt a pang of missing my partner in dorkitude, I got to analyze after the movie and enjoyed he made a Duck Tales reference before I could open my mouth.

Here comes the shame. He bought the tickets, he kept the stubs. That should not bother me. However, the day before he left, I texted him and asked them if he had them and could he leave me one. He responded that he did not know where they were. This should not bother me. Then I was bothered that it bothered me.

I cannot pinpoint their exact location, but I have on my property every movie stub spanning over fifteen years of my life. Even before I was old enough to buy and therefore get the stubs, I had cut out the theater times in the paper and circled what I had seen. It's in a photo album now. I even know that the one time I uncomfortably went movie hopping with one my friend's groups, I was a little upset that when I saw Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, my damn stub said Miss Congeniality.

I have a freakish memory and when it fails me, I get scared. I don't like that this tiny slip of paper marking a wonderful occasion is causing me a lapse in sanity. So in an attempt to not let it bother me, I folder a Post-It in half and wrote down the movie title, theater, date, start time, and theater number (not the price, I didn't pay, but for the record, eight bucks). I folded it in half again and placed it in my wallet, where my stubs usually go. It will also be bound with my stack of lifetime stubs I still have.

Exhale. Having a record of the moment is what I need to keep this from bothering me. In fact writing about it is helping. It wasn't about a slip of paper. It was about geeking out again with my Two Tower companion. I wonder if Two Towers is my favorite because of my brother. Yes. And also this scene.

Evil on a Shelf

In my household, the elf on the shelf was actually many elves on the tree that my parents had as Christmas ornaments that they bought when they were living in Germany. I hated these damn things because I thought at night they would jump off the tree and kill me. These were ugly things. 

Years later when my father told me a rat had used our entire family collection of ornaments less ones made of the least edible material, I was saddened that many memories were going through the digestive system of a plague carrying bastard. For some reason I felt compelled to find something hideous to put back on my parent's Christmas tree. EBay was my salvation and I found a thing that I knew would ignite fear into the souls of my sibling's children.

Well, apparently this has been going on for years and someone has decided put a cute story to many minions of Satan and call it Elf on the Shelf. What is next? Leprechaun under the sofa?

 

Yep, I'm more scared of Felty McEvil than Warwick Davis.

I can understand many of the mothers I am friends with on Facebook are delighted to take part in this whimsy for their children because the anticipation of a shit load of presents is never enough. I'm trying to figure out how much therapy my sister went through to think this was a tradition she wanted to start.

Seriously people. I know some are out there who agree that this thing is creepy. Other mothers have risen in solidarity and shouted they do not need to add another thing to the already long list of chores to do at the end of the year. All I know is, even though a frightening elf remains a staple in my parents' house, there is no way in the hell this thing came from one will enter mine.

Celebrity Sighting #Bald

The husband and I ventured out to San Francisco on a Sunday night for the live taping of The Adam Carolla Show. I am very happy to see a comedy show this year as my sad pathetic goal is usually to see one during the summer, but missed out. The show was as I expected. Adam was funny and it was great to watch instead of just listen to him do his thing. Husband got to see Alison Rosen live and man, she has a dazzling smile. He and I are still Teresa Strasser fans, (considering she hugged us at Laughs for Bald Bryan and all, it's gonna stay that way) but I want to bring him into the new direction of Carolla.

Here's the kicker: as we walked into the club, Bald Bryan was meeting up with some of his local people and I got to(at the expense of the ticket taker's patience) shake his hand, told him I listened to The Film Vault that morning and say thank you. I think it's the most important thing to do to my podcast people. They need to know my gratitude that they continue to put out wonderful entertainment.  

 

This hand shook Bald Bryan's hand. What has your hand done lately.....wait, don't answer that.

Allow me to put my Thanksgiving spin on it. I am grateful for hundreds of hours of free entertainment from incredibly funny people. God bless them, most of them. Not Penn Jillette, though. He gets atheist blessings.

Celebrity Sighting #.....Fuck It

Bad me. That's a very bad me. I took my husband to Lake Tahoe to see Penn and Teller for his birthday....back in September. I haven't posted it because (enter excuse involving being busy, being indifferent, or the trip itself was a disaster of sorts involving travel woes, arguments, panic attack threats, and overall pain and suffering.) I should point out that husband and I do not like to travel very much. He commutes about four hours a day during the work week and I have built myself a comfy fort of happy. 

He wants to stay home on the weekends and I'm inclined to agree because I strive to maintain stasis. It has reached the point where I don't even like to go to the movies because I can't pause to get the drink or food I want or to go pee because the excitement is too much for me. We did, however, see Skyfall last night and I thank the movie podcasts hosts I listen to frequently because they have given me just enough information to know it's fine to go pee in the stylish opening musical sequence.

I do, however, need to document that for his birthday, I took my husband to see two of his atheist heroes perform live. It was a struggle to get there and it was glorious to return, but for two hours there was a excitement we got to experience. We got a wonderful show an I had the extra added bonus of watching someone I love so much have such a fun time. And if you can, check out Penn's Sunday School. He's preaching love, and don't be cynical. He is.