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It will keep you from shitting the bed at 4:27 am

Issue Date: Monday, Apr. 12, 2004

Hi, how was your weekend? Was it wonderful? Good, yeah, me too. What did you guys end up doing? Chocolate bunnies? You ate all of them? No kidding? Did you go out to dinner or see a movie or two? Yeah, we did the same. Yeah, it was a great weekend.

What did we do?

Well, let’s see….

Mister and I met for lunch on Friday at Chili’s and I had queso and hot sauce, I knew then that the weekend was gonna be a good’un. Love me some hot sauce.

After work we went to Sam’s to get the new lenses for my glasses. The lady, we’ll call her hillbilly bitch from hell, told me that she couldn’t replace my lenses because they were a little bit big. The lenses that she traced. The lenses that she assured me would be just fine. She also asked me to refresh her memory of why we were replacing my lenses.

New prescription.

It’s on the paperwork in front of you.

She was going to have to send my glasses to the lab to have them grind down the lenses a bit so they would fit. Would I mind leaving my glasses with her for the night? Um, Yes, I would mind. Very much, thank you.

Ya see… Mister [points] and I are going to a movie tonight and I NEED my glasses so I can see the screen. I must be able to get the full effect of the zombie goodness. So, no, you cannot have my glasses.

Come back tomorrow, but call you before we do? Yeah, sure lady. Whatever you say.

We left Sam’s and went to the mall. Mister is trying to find some sunglasses that he can get with his prescription. We went to the place that made his lenses. They didn’t have the best selection and since Mister is somewhat of a giant, we needed to find frames that didn’t scream, “PERSCRIPTION LENSES!” We needed to find lenses that fit his face and uttered, “Yeah, I look like a biker beeeotch, you wanna make something of it or do you wanna fight? Ok, yeah rubbah-nuts, you go outside and practice falling down and bleeding and I’ll be with you inna minute.”

So, it was a bit of a stretch finding the frames that fit his face and his demeanor. Sunglasses are an accessory, they can make you look like a reject from the 1970’s or they can fit your face and make people think, “Hmmm, those are great sunglasses. I wonder if I would look half as cool if I put them on.”

We went down to the Oakley store and found these. Monster Dogs. That shit even sounds tough. Click on the link and look at them. He looks so hot with those things on.

After we had success with the sunglasses, we went upstairs to the movie theater to see Taking Lives. I had expressed an interest [read: rabid curiosity] about Dawn of the Dead but we couldn’t find it on the marquee. We got our tickets, my requisite medium popcorn (with luscious amounts of salt and butter), our sodas and we headed down the hall to find a seat in the theater, number 13, that was playing Taking Lives at 8:30 pm.

I looked up at theater number 14. On the lighted sign above the door were the words “Dawn of the De…8:35”. I looked at Mister with a face that said, “Can we? Huh? Huh? Puh-leeeeeeze? Canwehuh?” He said, “You wanna?” And we scrambled inside.

The theater that was showing the flick was tiny. The sign on the door said that AMC proudly carded anyone under the age of 25 for an R-rated movie. Regardless, like any horror genre film, the place was packed with teenagers that had that anxious look on their faces.

I’ve had that look before. It means, ‘I wanna see this movie so I can be a bad ass. I am slightly curious (if not a bit queasy) about the blood and gore that is bound to be part of this film. I want that roller coaster ride that is associated with the highs and lows… the adrenaline of a good scary movie.’

I was all for that rush myself.

The movie started and I kept thinking about sweet Sundry and her experience with seeing the movie alone.

Keeerist those things move fast! That little 8-year-old girl at the beginning freaked me the fuck out. The zombies are supposed to move slowly. They are supposed to be stupid. They are supposed to shamble along mumbling “braaaaiiiiiiinnnnsss”. No?

I was warned when I read Sundry’s entry.

Yet… Sadly,I was not prepared.

Mister (and several people of African-American decent in the theater) talked to the movie the whole time.

“Bust his ass Ving!”

“Oh shit, shit, shit! NO! Run!”



The above comments were brought to you by Mister and the letter “Kick His ASS!”

I have to admit. It was greatness. I loved the movie. And when Mister and I walked out of there at 10:30 pm, he turned to me on the way to the restroom and [with a twinkle in his eye, I might add] said, “You wanna do a double-header?” And he pointed to the Taking Lives lighted sign above theater number 13 that started at 10:55.

We waltzed right in there with our half watery sodas and sat down with the other 12 people in the theater.

Taking Lives was a true mystery and suspense movie with a fan-fucking-tastic twist at the end. Loved it.

I won’t spoil it for you, really I won’t. Just go see Angelina. She loves you yanno. She thinks you’re really pretty. She told me so. She’ll even show you her boobies. So, yeah, go see that movie.

If you can swing seeing both of them at the same time, with Dawn of the Dead first, do it. It will keep you from shitting the bed at 4:27 am when you hear the cat knock a stack of your books off the table in the living room.

Saturday we woke up bright and early because my man had scheduled a massage for me at 10:00 am. Yep, that’s right. A Massage. Scheduled for me by my man. An hour of smooshing the feets, the back rubbin, the neck-knot-working-outing.

I know you hate me. But I looooove you.

After the massage, Mister picked me up and we grabbed some lunch then headed back to Sam’s to deal with the hillbilly bitch from hell. Did we call her before we showed up? No, we did not. Did we even make a move towards our cell phones to call her? Nope, not that either. Mister was ready to get the lenses, take them to the lab, have them fixed and if they did not meet our satisfaction… a refund was the order of the day.

We picked up the lenses, took them to the lab, asked the tech, Gary, a few questions and he summarily popped the new lenses into my frames with the bare minimum of fuss and muss. No grinding down of the frames needed. Complete and utter lack of skill from the hillbilly bitch from hell caused much running around and time wasting.

We were very happy with Gary… not so much with the hillbilly bitch from hell.

After the glasses were fixed, we went back to the house for a bit of a nap and some afternoon delight. Yeah, we can do that.

Yanno how people send out pictures of their kids for Christmas cards?

This Christmas Mister and I are gonna send you guys a picture of us taking a nap in the afternoon. We’re also gonna be pointing to a wad of left over cash that wasn’t spent on diapers, braces, dance/karate lessons, college tuition or car insurance for a teenage driver.

Yes, this will come back and kick me in the ass in a few years when we decide to try and have kids. Please do not remind me.

Anyway, after the fantastic frillion hour nap, we drug ourselves out of bed and went to the sushi restaurant that had karaoke on Friday and Saturday nights.


If any of you live in the North Dallas area. Email me. Seriously. I want to take you to this place. I want everyone to eat sushi at this place, with me.

Mister and I go to this little place on a pretty regular basis. We never get tired of the fresh food and the fantastic service. We always seem to have the most insightful conversations ensconced in a booth at this little sushi place. We seem to think we are the only people on earth getting great wine (for him) and Stoli (for me) and a little high on how in love we are with each other. It really is a great little restaurant.

After a night like that we always end up laughing ourselves to sleep.

Warm dreams and sighs that roll over us and over our marriage bed as we lay tangled in the sheets… with one last “NO.” to the cat to stop his mmmmrrrrowww?-ing outside the door.

Sunday we woke up pretty early fully intent on going to this breakfast buffet before we went to church. No such luck. We ended up grabbing some McDonald’s before we slunk in, late to the service.

It was a nice service with some of the congregation acting out part of the Passion play. The thing that really hit my heart was this husband and wife team (very young, very cute) doing these monologues as Christ’s tears and His blood. Very touching.

Yesterday afternoon, yep, another nap. Mmmmmm nap-i-tude.

Yesterday evening I witnessed greatness in the making.


Oh Lordy.

I am so in love with this show. Cheesiness and boobage abounds. It is like taking the Donnie and Marie Show and giving them license to make out and shake their bootays.

I was thinking about how to write my thoughts down about this show while I was in the shower this morning. It sounded pretty good in my head, but I suspect my sonic-care toothbrush shook the coherent thoughts from my brain after I got out of the shower. So you guys will just have to deal with this rambling crap.

Jessica’s rendition of “You Take My Breath Away” was a train wreck. Her voice is wonderful but good Lord, it is like she is trying to spew forth every syllable from her mouth. ‘Over animated’ does not even begin to describe.

She did a duet with Jewel for “Who Will Save Your Soul” and you could just see Jewel thinking, “Oh shit. I lived in a fucking van for this?”

Poor Nick, he had to sing with a car and the Muppets.

Love the Muppets. No hatin. Seriously, Love. Them. And the car was Kitt from Night Rider… But come on. Jessica got to sing with Jewel and Kenny Rogers.

She did this dance number that was to “She Works Hard for the Money” and it was supposed to tie in these lame ass jokes. But she was wearing next to nothing. She had on this little sparkly turquoise top and tap pants or something and she was dancing all gyration action. Mister actually uttered, “Whoa. That little hip thing she just did was hypnotic.”

Mister kept asking, “Is That her hair? What about that? Is that real? Jesus. Is that her real hair?”

My answers: “No. No. Nope, uhn-uh. Yeah, I think. Uhm… no. Definitely not.”


Love the show. Love it.

Hey Hot Barney. Sign the guest book darnit.


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To understand this dear reward (above) at all, you must hie thee on and read gatsby’s grape ape entry and my comments.

And because of said comments he sent me my very own dream turtle in an email titled wee gift with these words attached, “my purple monkey is booked solid so i ordered you a tangerine turtle. hope he proves helpful.”

The Graphic Below Courtesy of Papernapkin.

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