Painting Chef - Cheaper Than Therapy

You know how some movies sound like they are going to be good in theory so you get all excited about watching them and then they are like a train wreck. And you can’t…stop…watching… Only in this case, I was able to stop because it was so terrible.

Yeah…let’s talk about “Romy & Michelle, the Beginning” shall we?

Bad. Oh so very very bad. Now just shut up for a second, I laughed my ass off at the original Romy & Michelle. Yeah, I saw it in the theatre and yeah, I left the theatre feeling like I’d lost about 50 IQ points. But still, it was cute and funny and sweet. Bite me.

So I’m flipping through my US Weekly (I have a subscription, U can’t touch this) and I see that holy crapola and macaroni and cheese…there’s a new Romy & Michelle movie and its about when they were younger!! Woohoo, can’t wait to see this one. I set the reminder on the digital cable box thingy and everything.

Oh. My. Dear. Lord. It was so terribly awful and painful. I lasted about 30 minutes the first time they showed it because I was literally embarrassed to be sitting there next to Patrick watching this movie that I had told him I really wanted to watch because it was so awful.

So I changed the channel to watch the Da Vinci Code special on the History Channel and I regained the 4,000 IQ points I had lost in those 30 minutes. Then I got into bed and thought…hmmm…maybe I’m just PMSing (STILL…don’t even get me started) and I should give this movie another try. What the hell.

No. Still so very very tragic. This is a public service announcement.

DO NOT WATCH THIS MOVIE!!!!

When I was younger, my mom was determined that I learn to play the piano. As best I can remember, I have had 4 piano teachers.

1. The Suzuki method teacher. Ahh…I don’t really remember her. I was really young. But I remember a few things very clearly. First, she made me bow to her before and after every lesson. That was odd. Secondly, I was the only one of her students who was female. And that spoke English as their primary language. And third, her house smelled like old soup. That didn’t last very long because even at the tender age of 6 or so I had no intention of telling that moldy soup smelling bitch that I was NOT bowing to her and dammit, I SPEAK ENGLISH!

2. Dr. Stutzenberger. Yes, that was her name. And she, also, taught out of a house that smelled of moldy soup. Or feet, I’m not sure which. That crazy loon gave me written homework. And there were dead aminals on her walls. Here is where I become a curse to piano teachers. She was hit by a car and broke both of her legs. Unfortunately for her, she kept the torture chamber, I mean piano, on the top floor of her house so that was over too. That nutty bitch used to hit my hands with a ruler.

3. Mrs. Morris. Ahhh….she was so sweet. She lived in a giant house with a huge rose garden. Both her yard and her house always smelled like roses. There was no smacking of the hands with rulers or bowing and everyone spoke English. She even had a little Christmas party for all her students that was just so much fun. Loved her. I loved that woman right up until the day she beat her husband to death with a baseball bat.

4. And finally Ms. Hodges. See, now THIS is why you should never have a teacher from your school come to your house to be your piano teacher. Especially when you are at that socially vulnerable middle school age. No good at all. I had to beg and plead with mom for those lessons to be over (plus by this point, I REALLY hated the piano. Like, with a burning passion.) And the Ms. Hodges had kind of a messy divorce or something…I’m not really sure what happened, only that one day suddenly she wasn’t teaching at school anymore and she wasn’t my piano teacher either. I did like her though; she was kind of cool and kept up with the essential middle school gossip so she could always throw in a tidbit or two.

So anyway, that’s my journey of piano teachers, not the greatest record so I just kind of quit trying to play the piano. Plus after this many years, I still hadn’t learned to read music. I was kind of a lost cause.

You know I’ve seen that “Snapped” show on the Oxygen network and I think that Mrs. Morris would make an EXCELLENT show. Maybe I should get in touch with them…

Have a good Memorial Day weekend everyone, I’ll probably not post again until Tuesday but you never know…

You know what I really love? Flashback songs. We all have them, you know what I’m talking about. And for some reason, even if the memories they stir aren’t necessarily from the best period in my life, they never fail to make me smile. Even if the song completely and utterly sucks. Some examples:

1. Livin’ La Vida Loca (Ricky Martin) – Hate, hate, hate, HATE this song. Hate it with a passion. But it never fails to make me think of the spring of 1999 when I lived with three other crazy pothead girls and I was driving this rental red Neon because I’d wrecked my car that I loved so dearly (NOT my fault that one by the way). This was a super wild time in my life right before I started dating Patrick. I had no idea but I was about to hit rock bottom.

2. Shoop (Salt n’ Pepa) – Ahhh…spring break 1994. Destin, FL. Drunkity drunk drunk drunk. I was sure that I was madly in love with the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with. What a tool that dude was. Wonder where he is today, I heard he had like 4 kids. But anyway, I was staying in a hotel suite with like 6 other girls and half of us would go out and get drunk (because the other half didn’t drink) and we would come back and blast this CD and dance like we were rock stars.

3. Keep em’ Separated (The Offspring) – One of my best friends when I was a senior in high school was named James. I called him Jamesley and I’m not really sure why. Anyway, he had this beautiful Acura Integra and his dumb ass gave me a key and little alarm clicky thingamajig. He also did this before he realized that I got out of school an entire hour earlier than he did. Fool. I used to drive around with no destination blasting this song as loud as that car could play it during the hour between when I got out of school and when he got out of school and getting high as a kite. I still have that key and the alarm clicker.

4. Santa Monica (Everclear) – Freshman year in college. Middle Tennessee State University. I was a wee little pledge in Alpha Delta Pi. We were a bad bunch that pledge class. I’d be shocked if more than half of us graduated. But one of my closest friends, Kelly, (we are still close, actually she’s going to the beach with me next weekend) was this teeny tiny thing. I, am Amazon woman, hear me roar. But she used to get drunk (yes, in the DORMS) and put on my shoes and walk around. I have no idea why this was so funny but it was hysterical. And anytime we heard this song, she would grab these black hooker boots that I had that came up above MY knees so they practically came to her waist and she would clomp around in those and dance and ALWAYS fall down.

I could come up with so many more but I’d rather hear yours. Spill it my friends…

I’ve been kind of down and out for about 3 days with a wretched migraine. Sorry for the absence but I’m BACK bitches!

So anyway, as you might imagine, I’ve spent much of the past three days asleep and under the influence of various drugs. Oh the dreams I’ve been having…

And here’s the thing, they’ve all been so lifelike. I mean, the ones that I remember had a lasting effect on me after I woke up. Let me give you a couple of examples:

1. I dreamt that all of my teeth were falling out. Have you ever had this dream? It’s AWFUL. Just terrible. I had it twice and both times when I woke up, I went directly to the bathroom to wiggle all of my teeth. I am happy to report that they are all in there quite firmly. I then brushed and flossed. Twice.

2. I was homeless and slept in the “back room” of some strange bar. This was last night and I’ve never had such a strange feeling of desperation when I woke up. Seriously, I woke up with tears streaming down my face. And it took quite a bit of time to shake off the funk that dream left me in. Actually, I don’t know that I really have yet.

So on the way to work I was trying to decide what I’m supposed to be learning from these dreams that I’ve been having and I think I’ve figured it out. They were about taking things for granted. I think that I’ve been doing that lately. Here I am trying so hard to change something about my life (i.e. get knocked up) that I’ve stopped enjoying all the wonderful things that I’ve got going on without a baby.

Last night Patrick and I sat down at the dining room table, put on some music and just hung out and played Dominos for about an hour. (Also…I whipped his sorry ass at that game…) It was so great. We used to do that all the time and we haven’t in quite a while. I miss that.

So kids…lesson of the day…don’t take shit for granted.

Do you know what I really hate? When you thank a person for doing something and they say “No problem, just part of the job”.

Example…I walked into Wal-Mart the other day (I know, Wal-Mart is the devil and all evil in the world stems from Wal-Mart but shut up…it’s close to my house and they had what I was looking for). The little old man at the front of the store hands me a cart and says hello. I, being in the south and having a general pleasantness about me until you piss me off, say “thank you.” And this dude says, “No problem ma’am, just part of my job.”

No you stupid fuck!!!! It isn’t PART of your job; it IS YOUR DAMN JOB. And please, no hate mail about being mean to the little old man in the front of Wal-Mart. It’s not like I pulled his shirt up over his head and beat him up all hockey style. I just smiled, gritted my teeth, and moved on. See…I do have SOME self-control.

Also, possibly some PMS which means yet another cycle of Clomid can’t be far behind. And you think I’m bitchy now… [evil laugh type noises]