You look hungry...

So, yes, long weekend, eh? I slept an enormous amount all weekend. I tallied it up this morning and figured out that I slept about 11 hours each Friday and Saturday, and averaged about 2 naps a day. I felt pretty awesome, aside from the headaches which have made a delightful third trimester return.

Tried to see the Bourne Ultimatum on Saturday. But, didn’t make it through the movie. Allow me to explain: I woke up on Saturday at about 10:30 am. I ate a fabulous bowl of cereal (Yum, had forgotten how much I like Apple Jacks. No nutritional value, but tasty, nonetheless), watched some Food Network as is my weekend habit, then set about cleaning the house. Now, we all know I’m a bit of a clean freak/OCD nightmare, so when I clean the house, we’re talking about baseboard scrubbing, under the couch vacuuming sweeping swiffering and mopping, bathroom sanitizing, moving the oven to scrape the scum etc. Needless to say, this is a long, involved process. So, around 4 pm I was finally finished and able to catch a shower. Xtian got home just in time to clean out the cat box for me.

I realized we could make the next showing of the movie if we left…RIGHT NOW! So, being juvenile delinquents, and cheap, we crammed my purse full of candy and headed to the theater. Once inside, I realized that I’d eaten nothing but that cereal, and should probably put something in my belly that isn’t gelatin based, or chocolate covered. A little popcorn, and a coke to get some caffeine circulating. (See, headaches. All the time, every day again. Thanks Mocha Cub!)

So, we shuffle into the theater, manage to nab the make out seats in the very back, and I proceed to munch popcorn while the previews get rolling. As soon as the movie starts, I can see I’ve made an error in judgment. The camera shakes, swivels and bounces every second of every scene. I know the Bourne movies are like this, but this third one took it to a new level. Not just chase scenes, but quiet conversation in a deli scenes. Talking on the phone scenes. Every scene. I’m feeling queasy. Within 30 minutes I’m dashing to the bathroom where I had the singular pleasure of vomiting popcorn. Just fabulous.

Hoping I’d gotten that out of my system, I returned to the theater. Nope. Repeat performance. Luckily Xtian knows the drill, and let me go, finished watching the movie and met me outside when it was all over. So, major bummer there, and man, did I feel like shit for the rest of the day. I finally managed to get some actual food into my body around 8pm. Nice job taking care of yourself Coley! Yeah, and I’m in charge of the care of another human in a few months? Good luck.

So, Sunday was spent nibbling food (which all sounds gross again. After a couple of weeks of fantasizing about what else there was to eat, WHILE EATING, I’m back to everything sounding/tasting horrible. No wonder I’m having trouble with the weight gain.) watching movies and trying to get Xtian to make out with me. No dice there. *sigh*

"So, I think you gave me HPV" so sayeth the asshat.

Ah yes, I have a blog. I remember now…

So, the movie Beerfest is hysterical. Decidedly lowbrow, the movie is self-aware enough to mock itself. And that, my friends, goes a long way with me. Any person, movie, song, institution or religion that can’t make fun of itself has no place in my life.
I’ve always lived by the idea that if I can’t laugh at myself then I can’t laugh at other people. And, let’s be honest, laughing at other people is one of my favorite pastimes.
I guess this is the main reason I love Ben Folds, and supremely stupid movies, and the reason I hang out with the people I do. The old axiom “don’t take life too seriously, you’ll never get out alive” is kind of how I live my life.

My father, meanwhile, just thinks I’m a sarcastic ass for this same reason. And maybe I am, but I daresay I’m having much more fun and am a bit more self-aware than he.

~~~

You know how, before you go to the dentist you spend about 3 hours flossing and brushing meticulously, only to finish up with a 20-minute swish of Listerine? Yeah, well, since I had to go to the dentist TWICE in five days, I said, “Fuck that.”

Instead, I ate a delightful bowl of clam chowder, washed it down with a Dr. Pepper, popped a piece of gum, and sat down in the dentist’s chair. It was awesome. I can’t recommend it enough. Especially since he didn’t notice. Why should I bother with the extra cleaning (what with me being a fastidious dental hygiene enthusiast anyway) since he’s still going to doubt my honest answer to the predictable flossing question? My response, “Every day” is met with a suspicious and arrogant lift of the eyebrow and a kind of disbelieving “mmmmmhmmmm”. Look here jerk, I have good teeth, I brush 2+ times a day, floss at least once a day, there isn’t anything wrong with my teeth, so ease off on the stink eye, eh?

Fucking dentists.

(And for those wondering, no, the title quote was not directed at me, and nobody gave anybody HPV in this scenario. As stated, the accuser was simply being an asshat.)

Jingle Bells, now drink yourself retarded

Ah, corporate holiday parties. Is anything at once so awkward, fun and mockery-worthy? I daresay, no. I realize these parties are supposed to be a way for coworkers to all relax, let down their hair and have some fun. But, I always come out of these things feeling like I spent my Saturday night at work, only more exhausting because I have to make pleasant chit chat with coworkers and their spouses/partners. I’m all for second-hand embarrassment, but watching VERY drunk vice presidents grinding on their/other people’s dates is more than even I want to watch.

My only goal was to avoid having a new nickname due to the party (such as Spaz, MakeOut Machine or The Puker). I think I made it out ok. Luckily, I was smart and brought a flask with good whisky. This served two purposes: 1. Avoid paying $7 for a poorly made 3 oz. beverage and 2. Since I only had a limited supply, I barely achieved buzz. So no chance of drunken debauchery.

I mentioned to my sister how I was less than excited watching my drunken coworkers behaving in divorce-causing behavior, she called me a prude. “From what I’ve learned on sitcoms, corporate holiday parties are all about getting drunk and making out with coworkers,” she said. And can I just say, the greatest start to a sentence ever. “From what I’ve learned on sitcoms.” And as we all know, sitcoms are well known for showing the consequences of poor judgment.

Well, I just let that one go in the conversation, but it’s been bothering me. Am I a prude? Not in my private life. But I think this is the difference. I attempt to draw distinct lines between my work life and my home life. I don’t bring work home with me and I try not to bring my private life into the office. Yes, I’ve had a few work friends who have translated into just FRIENDS, but that takes a lot of time. Things that I wouldn’t think twice about doing with my friends, (such as stripping naked and doing a lap around the block for a drinking game) I would never do in front of coworkers. If for no other reason than, when promotion time comes around, I really don’t want my reviewer thinking about that time I got really drunk and made out with the VP of finance.

I’d like to think that doesn’t make me a prude. Just polite. I guess for my sister, any semblance of etiquette and good taste is really just uptight, prudish behavior. And if that’s the case, so be it.
~~

And for another round of Movies Everyone Else Saw Months Ago, I give you Borat. You know, I actually liked this movie. I think all the buildup of how “offensive” this movie was had me expecting far worse. And yes, there was more unattractive man-nudity that was entirely necessary. But aside from that, I think mostly it made people uncomfortable because it allowed rank and file Americans to lampoon themselves. And I think it mocked things that needed to be mocked. Religions that take place in tents complete with “healings” and evangelical “America is always going to be a Christian nation” declarations (all while conveniently forgetting to love one another, and not judge, but maybe I just dislike religions and so am predisposed to mock) is allowed to be poked fun at. And a trashy rodeo-organizer commenting that they should round up all gays and hang them, really has my disdain coming. Drunken frat boys declaring that women are all bitches who don’t deserve any respect and all the non-white people have all the power in this country really deserve to be shown for what they are.
Mostly, I think it disturbed people because it was pretty honest in it’s portrayal of the rest of the US. And if you don’t think that’s true, it’s time to get out of California for a while and actually listen to Joe Bob the Missouri farmer.

Good lord, I’m on the soapbox today.

In other news, I’m old and my body is falling apart at an alarming rate. My shin splints are back and threatening to break my soul. I’ve officially forgotten how to walk without a limp. So, clearly I should keep running on asphalt 6 days a week. I’m smart. Sometimes…