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.

With Respect to the East Coast

Before the most recent new stories coming out about the many lives lost, I heard very little about Hurricane Sandy. In fact due to the headlines I saw, I thought Sandy was the name of some political candidate making an ass of himself.  When only a few things were reported, I was hopeful that the news people were just blowing things out of proportion as per usual and thought we'd all get through this okay like with El Niño. (That is, I got through it okay. My apologies to those who had to deal with destruction or loss of life.) Naturally my thoughts went to another instance of tragedy though. Enjoy as you feel appropriate.

 Some forget this entire sketch was great. Too bad what I could find it was only Farley's part.

But Halftime is When I Need to Pee

So much work and practice to go into an amazing thing and it's all just ten minutes. I think this deserves so much more applause than the Superbowl halftime shows. Especially the Black Eyed Peas one. And these guys don't even get paid. Let's celebrate their hard work.

Hey Everyone! Don't Look at Me!

My boss once said to me that no one over thirty should have a non-normal ringtone. Of course this was over four years ago and the theme from The Office was what told me someone wanted to chat with me. Oh, how the times have changed and now everyone in my office over forty has a personalized tone while I just have a default repetitive ring.

It may have to do with how easy it is to set up a personal tone. At least that would explain why my boss has ruined the beginning riff of Baba O'Riley for me. But why have I switched to a ringtone that screams "Hey you damn kids, get off my non existent lawn!"? Well, for starters, The Office jingle was fun, but since I don't watch it anymore, I feel like it isn't right to have that be my ringtone. I'm no longer The Simpsons girl I was in my youth despite the fact that tune is timeless. For a little while I had the theme from Entourage but that was me acknowledging this bond my brother and I had enjoying marathons of the show. After a while I felt like a poser using it. Since I got the new phone, I stayed on the most basic tune I could tolerate, though I did dabble with Mah Nà Mah Nà from The Muppets. (That got annoying after three calls).

What I've come to understand about me and personalization is that I like to blend in the crowd. I don't understand personalized license plates, bumper stickers that tell me that you're a closed minded douche bag (I'm translating the anti non Jesus ones.), plate frames that share that you whored yourself to your husband to get the car I'm behind, and so on. For a little while I needed a self esteem boost and put my University Alumni plate frame on my car of I can feel good about one of my greatest life accomplishments. Now I feel like I'm just trying to hold on to some glory of my youth. 

My wardrobe consists of just one T-shirt with writing on it.  I'm mildly uncomfortable wearing it because the display of my fondness for the geek culture is a little too "Look at me and the writing on my boobs!". That being said, you can be sure that I would never get a pair of pants that have "Princess" written on my ass. (Unless I was attempting to being a slut hipster.)

When I was planning my wedding, people kept trying to tell me that I needed a theme. The blogs kept showing these elaborate wedding decorations, invites, and cakes around one unifying pop culture reference or something. Cute for internet infamy, but I'm not sure how much I would like to be married by Admiral Ackbar.

I have friends with personalized plates and they are a special nod to them. It has to do with them and those don't bother me as much as the ones that have a vomit inducing seven character combo that they HEART their GR8 kids or something about their lord and savior. I think we need to go back to the days of it's no one's business, I think I'll leave these little things inside my head. That being said, I need to recheck my privacy settings on Facebook before I go submit my resume. That picture of me with a gun may give people the wrong impression. Or the right one.