I had a whole different idea for what I was going to post on this the last day of NaBloPoMo, but the day got away from me as they so often do. Maybe I’ll write it this week or maybe I’ll never write it at all. Maybe I’ll start blogging consistently or maybe I’ll go back to the occasional YouTube vid or the rambling and narcissistic Fluff life. I’m not really sure what posting every day this month has done for me other than the I did it factor, but it’s done and I did it. I do think it made me unable to interact with Blogland as much because my time was spent writing, but it also made me want to interact more. I miss my early days of blogging, when my community was new and I spent almost all of my spare time virtually hanging with those badasses. But I’m also grateful for the real live friends I’ve made through these tubes that Al Gore built that crisscross the world and keep us all together. That’s kind of always been my form of religion – we’re all connected so don’t be a dick. The internet is just the semi-physical manifestation of that. Which is balls out awesome, yo.
So, my kid is supremely awesome and I’m super dee duper grateful for him on the daily even when he hates me and I’m the worst mom ever and other random atrocities committed by young and occasionally rabid children and the mothers who created all their issues. I love the guy. Partly because I’m a semi-functional human with mostly appropriate emotional responses. Mostly because he’s awesome. Don’t believe me? See for yourself.
What is your favorite color?
What’s your favorite word?
Butt, because it makes me laugh.
What is your favorite toy?
Shake and drive Batman car
What’s your favorite song?
Blackbird, because he learned how to fly without his wings.
What is your favorite fruit?
Watermelon because it’s the only one I know so it’s my favorite. Also, pears and pineapple.
What is your favorite TV show?
What’s your favorite treat?
Chocolate and vanilla Lollipops.
What’s your favorite movie?
What’s your favorite book?
What is your favorite outfit?
Jack Skellington shirt and red sweatpants.
What is your favorite game?
Go Fish, the rhyming game and the Pumpkin video game.
What is your favorite snack?
What is your favorite animal?
Iguanas because they really can blend in with the leaves.
Who is your best friend?
What is your favorite thing to do outside?
Tball. Play with the playground.
What is your favorite holiday?
Halloween is my favorite, but the most I like is when it snows.
What’s your favorite comic book?
This one’s my favorite and this one’s my favorite and this one….
What do you like to take to bed with you at night?
Who is your favorite superhero?
Superman because he’s super strong and can fight the bad guys really well.
What do you want to be when you grow up?
A book guy that writes books and stories.
The soles of her shoes were covered in a thin film of foamy grime. Her knuckles, insistently red and bulging, rapped timidly on the glass, barely making enough contact to elicit sound. She momentarily met his eyes as the door swung open, but they knew their place and quickly dipped back down again, servile.
He thought her rough, vulgar, unworthy of redemption or solace. It didn’t occur to him that those thoughts might lessen his own worth. He wondered how someone so seemingly bedraggled could be expected to take responsibility for the cleanliness of his home. He wondered how the neighbors would take this.
Would they laugh behind his back – poor old Jan, good help is so hard to find. Would they shake their heads with gentle disdain, and revise his status in tandem without even a word between them? Would he carry that weight, heavy and dull, like the lead apron that shields potential generations from extinction during routine x-rays at the dentist’s office? Step back in line with the wallflowers, the elderly, the girl who had survived an unconventional youth and often trailed off mid-sentence or tittered forlornly at the way her coin had flipped?
What he knew to be true was that, in that instance, he would do just that. But this wasn’t that. Even still he couldn’t slight her outright. Couldn’t pluck her, with heady violence coursing his veins, from her post and cast her roughly out. He was far too polite. He considered it his virtue.
In the forty-seven years still stretching out before him, he never did become more perceptive.
Today I’m grateful for love. Love for my kid, for my family, for my friends and yes, even for my husband. He may have happened to mention not being included thus far in my month 0′ gratitude. And he often falls low on the list as loved ones that you know you can rely on often do. It’s easy to focus on minor annoyances and irritating habits in a marriage. I’m sure his list for me is just as long, if not longer, than mine for him. But there are many things, big and small, that I take for granted and today I recognize and am grateful for all of them. The back rubs and tech support and extra days of sleeping in. The penchant for snugs, the silly humor, the thoughtful acts too numerous to name. The creative thinking, the family time, the adoration that travels between him and the kid. The being all in, which is really what it all comes down to, IMO.
Thinking of love led me to thinking of love in the movies. Me being a geek for all things pop and culture. I am a person who believes she does not like rom coms. But last Valentine’s Day the hearts and flowers and blog posts of best romantic comedies EVER proliferated the internet and made me took a good hard look inside my prematurely hardened, black little ticker and what I discovered is I ENLARGED HEART rom coms. But only those I loved in my younger years or those with an indie slant.
Pioneer Woman Entertainment featured many of the movies on my list, but I figured you can go on over there read Big Mama and see those for yourself. Keep in mind that outside of Return to Me, Notting Hill and My Big, Fat Greek Wedding the movies in her top ten get the triple L seal of approval. That and 50 cents will get you a bullet to the grill. And keep extra specially in mind that The Philadelphia Story tops all of my lists forever and ever amen. I am after all, an unholy mess of a girl.
And, we’re off with my younger years list .
The Wedding Singer – Not made in the 80′s, but set there so it totally counts. There’s nothing not to love about this movie. Drew Barrymore is at her gentle, lovely best. Adam Sandler hits the comedic sweet spot without his typical over-the-top-ness. The music is totally radical and the ending is wholly satisfying. Plus? Billy Idol. Just sayin.
The Cutting Edge – Good lord, I love this movie. Kate Moseley with her snooty, ruffled rear saying, “Toe pick!” Rough and tumble hockey dude Doug Dorsey bringing it home as a figure skater. The chemistry between those two was smoking. Can’t argue with the hate turning to love rom com model. This movie does it well.
Some Kind of Wonderful – Possibly my favorite of all the 80′s romantic comedies, this movie has it all. Mary Stuart Masterson as Watts was what really sold it for me. Her drums playing, vulnerable badass was exactly what I, as a 18 year old weirdo, was looking to model. Again, the music = killer. I own the soundtrack. Bad. Ass. And the ending? With the kiss and the earring and the remake of Can’t Help Falling in Love? Le sigh.
Can’t Buy Me Love – Super nerd Ronald Miller rents hot girl and the cool rubs off. I have seen this movie approximately 3, 042 times and I’d watch it again right now if it were on. Of course, Patrick Dempsey grew up to drive women wild as McDreamy so it’s really no wonder he was a teenage dream.
The Sure Thing – John Cusack rules my world in anything and this was no exception. Again with the hate to love storyline and an Odd Couple from alternate universes kind of vibe. I always found Daphne Zuniga so beautiful and classy even in Spaceballs and Melrose Place.
Roxanne – Zany, sweet Steve Martin falls for the glorious and brilliant Daryl Hannah for falls for the good looking box of rocks hunk because good old Steve Cyrano’s it up and puts the words in his hunky mouth. It’s one of those rare movies where all the jokes fall just right and the zaniness balances the sweetness in exactly the right way. Perfection.
Splash – Again with the glory of Daryl Hannah, this time in mermaid form. Who can resist a luminous, blonde Amazonian mermaid? Not Tom Hanks. Not any red-blooded hetero man. All this plus John Candy and Eugene Levy. Rom is once again in balance with the com.
Say Anything – Diane + Lloyd = tru luv 4eva. This movie gets it right by showing subtly why each of the characters are unique and worthy of love. It’s a rare thing in recent romantic comedies to not be beaten over the head with UNIQUE CHARACTER TRAITS or to truly understand what each character finds compelling about the other. Diane’s social awkwardness, her beauty, her interest in the world and her morality deem her a worthy partner. Lloyd’s gentleness, subtle humor, kindness and devotion are eternally appealing. You know that moment when Lili Taylor says, If you were Diane Court would you really fall for Lloyd, and the other girls are like, yeah, we really would. That’s the moment that every other head in that movie theater is nodding right along with them. I know I was.
Clueless – Fantastic on so many levels, this distinctly 90′s movie is another example of a film that nailed the chemistry between the love interests. You really pulled for this couple, even though they are sort of technically related. Actually all three of the main characters fit perfectly into their respective relationships without being too sugary sweet. And oh, the dialogue and the fashion.
L.A. Story – Possibly my favorite movie of all time, certainly in my top five, this is Steve Martin at his zany, sensitive, intellectual finest. It’s a love story to L.A., parody style. It’s actually more of a roast because although the jokes may skewer the heart and sould of the City of Angels, it’s done with clear and obvious love. The humor is by turns, absurdist and wacky. The love story is believable and touching. The search for depth and meaning in a life mired in a shallow pool makes you think and evaluate and feel, if not all, at least many of the things. This line sums it up entirely for me, “A kiss may not be the truth, but it is what we wish were true.” Ah, love.
Music is good and music posts are even better when you’re wiped from the awesome whirlwind of a great visit and a mind blowing Doctor Who experience.
This song gets me all tingly in my lady bits. Maybe it’s just the trace memory of all the X I did while listening to it. Although I don’t remember the piccolo solo at the end. I may have repressed that memory. I may do it again.
Brilliant, she sighed, carelessly crumpling the memory and tossing it over her shoulder. Like it wasn’t the thing she’d always search for later, brilliant flashes bouncing off scrabbling hands. That brilliant spark, gone.
Joules can’t come to the blog right now. She’s out living her life. Which means she’s running around town with this girl and that girl and that girl’s baby. It also means she’s hanging out with this guy for his 50th anniversary.
I’m grateful for the Doctor in all his incarnations, but most especially for Ten. If you watched the episode Last Of The Time Lords and didn’t raise the Doctor from his cage by thinking DOCTOR DOCTOR DOCTOR along with the rest of humanity, you have no soul. And then he hugs the Master and forgives him. Time lording Jesus/Ghandi/Mother Theresa, yo. Plus, style. Also, Chucks. In addition, zany humor. Furthermore, hair. In conclusion, awesome.
One of the greatest things about loving Doctor Who, about loving any sort of geekery, is the passionate, creative, amazeballs joy you get to share with others with the same love. I’m super dee duper grateful for like-minded Whovians everywhere, but most especially the ones sitting next to me on the couch. Allons-y, y’all.
Sometimes life is all lemon-filled. Sometimes you get a migraine the same day that you get the super period and also have some hardcore vertigo to boot. That day may even be your 44th birthday. Maybe this all comes during an epic duel with Depression and coincides with a intense growth spurt/developmental change/series of meltdowns/who the fuck knows of your 4 year old.
And sometimes, if you’re really and truly lucky, your kind, badass friend comes to town. On that day you have no other choice but to put your worries aside for at least 4:16 minutes and shake yer damn groove thang. Do it.
It’s possible that I may be in the middle of a nervous breakdown or a mid-life crisis. I plan to live until at least 94, which is exactly 50 years from yesterday so, totes feasible. It’s clearly more likely, and more exceedingly humdrum and bourgeois, that I’m just continuing on my eternal struggle with the old dirty bastard, Big D. Fuck that guy, bee tee dubbers. Whatever the reason, shit has been rough, yo. The emotional and mental ick has manifested itself physically over the past few days, rendering me basically useless. Hormone related migraine with a side of vertigo made it difficult to parent adequately or even walk upright in a straight line. Five things have made my life easier/better/more livable and I am filled with gratitude for each of those.
- Working Class Acupuncture – Community acupuncture is new to me, but I’m totally sold. You sit in a recliner in a room where other peeps are also sitting in recliners, relaxing, sleeping, maybe even snoring. All with skinny little needles stuck all over their bodies. Healing needles, not like drug addicts nodding off in an abandoned building needles. There are sound machines and soothing music playing and sunlight filters through gauzy curtains. You sit until you feel you’re done. All for $15-35. You choose what to pay. They want you to pay less if it means you can come more often. I’m going again tomorrow to banish this vertigo before my homegirl lands in Ptown for fun and adventure. Community acupuncture is saving the visit. Community acupuncture could save the world. Probably.
- Hope – Is dope. And I really, really mean that. I’ve known her since she was a chubby faced little cherub that grew into a lanky, bossy pre-teen who took an entire afternoon to nibble her way around one Reese’s cup to a up for anything, yet naive twenty-something who survived a whirlwind that nearly took us all out to the gorgeous goofball we all know and love today. She’s kind and funny and weird and won’t eat broccoli. If you know her, you love her. There’s really no other choice. She’s loyal and always up for adventure, unless it involves doing what you think she should do because, hello, stubborn. She’s independent, but hates to be alone for extended periods of time. She’s a kickass mother, fun and loving and always willing to sacrifice her time. She took my kid overnight last night because I wasn’t feeling well. She’s taking my kid if I die. That pretty much sums it up. I told you, dope.
- Veronica – Oh, this girl. I’ve known her through all the stages too. Which seems obvious if you know she’s Hope’s younger sister. Her little face and her little voice and they way she’d look up at you from under those little bangs like she knew it all, like she was gonna be big one day and you’d better watch out. While she technically had a teenage pregnancy(19, but solidly out of high school and with a long time bf), she has always been responsible and a worker bee. She’s a healer by trade, but also through her compassion and the way that she really listens. Unless she’s playing Candy Crush. You could be on fire then and she would never know it. She’s fun and charming and truly always up for anything. She’ll humor you and make you think she agrees or is going along, but she’ll do what she needs to do. In a loving and non-bitchy way and you won’t even be mad at her. Unless she skips out on girls night AGAIN for some dumb boy. She’s kind and a wonderful mom and I’d totally give my kid to her too. Which I kinda am since she and Hope are likethis. And the girl is smokin. Boys be trippin’ for not getting up on that, yo.
- Dani – I already talked about Dani, but if I don’t mention her again here it will give her mushy, Piscean heart the sads. Plus, she picked up my kid from school today AND brought me a Thanksgiving wreath. She’s kinda my life partner. Without benefits.
- Thursday night teevee – Grey’s, Parenthood and even Scandal. But don’t get me started on Scandal. Who does this Fitz think he is? If he wants to be the president, he should shut his whiny, lovesick cakehole and get to presiding. Preside, motherfucker. Olivia Pope will still be there in four more years. Unless you have brought down our country with your lack of attention on every single aspect of governing. Hand the reins over to Mellie and Cy. Now that’s a presidential duo I can get behind. Those two are looking out for America. They aren’t letting some hormones and five minutes in the Oval Office stand in the way of their agenda. See why I’m thankful? Gets the blood flowing.
What you got, y’all?