Monday, April 9, 2012

Tell me all about it. No seriously, tell me.

I have these awesome quirks about me that when people find out about them they are like "Omg, you are so cute and interesting!"**

Like, how I can't stand to not know the specific plot of a movie and a detailed re telling of its ending before I decide to see it. Cute and interesting right?**

I mean what person wouldn't want to sit next to me and answer my every question, like..

Whose that guy? Is that Liam Neeson? He looks old here..maybe he is playing an older dude....

Wait...what did they say? I couldn't hear...I was chewing ice...what do you mean you don't know because I was talking...I meant what did they say right before I didn't hear either?

What accent is this? I thought they were in Paris..this sounds Irish...that guy looks Irish but I thought it said Paris in the beginning part of the scene...

You should really try to think back to that part you weren't paying attention to and tell me what they said...because I think it was important..

Denzel Washington is in this!? Why didn't you just say so!? Now I know its a good movie for sure.. but I am still going to Google how it ends...

As you can see I am the cutest most interesting girl that you would love to take to the movies.
Unless it is a scary movie, in which case I will leave every so often to go to the check my hair, pee, wash my hands, check out the snack bar or just beg to leave because I think I might have started my period. Unless I know what the scary movie is exactly about and how it ends, chances are I think I might be getting my period...maybe. We should go home and check just in case because they ran out of pads in the pad dispenser in the restroom.

Now if I am at home and I am about to watch a scary movie I can't possibly pull a "I think I am about to shed uterine lining" excuse, so I have to get even more creative in trying to avoid the intense scenes and daunting music that is a prelude to some poltergeist demon popping out of a mirror while innocent Kevin Bacon is looking less Footloose and more Hollow Man as he brushes his teeth. Most of the time I actually WANT to watch the movie so I will ask a million questions before hand, and if the Biff has seen it before (or anyone for that matter, I will fucking text people mid movie so it doesn't look like I'm wimping out and Googling) I will drag every major plot point or scare that he can recall.
If this fails I cover my eyes. Or squint so I can't exactly see everything.
I once took out my contacts in the bathroom during Predators because not only was I nerve wracked enough by sitting next to a hot guy who paid for the tickets but I had to act like I am totally okay with some insane alien creatures who are invisible most of the time EXCEPT AT THE MOST RANDOM MOMENTS popping up out of the jungle to turn humans into hamburgers in mere seconds.

Funny thing is, I enjoy movies, even scary ones, I really do (honestly, Biff, I just clawed your leg during Predators because I really like your leg..not because of anything else that might jump out at me the next time I am taking a shower and blast my brains out) I am just not a visual learner. Like, most people see things and can tell by a color in the movie (I am catching on though, Red=you're fucked or you're going to cry about this later ala Schindlers List) or by the way a shadow looks waaaaaaaaaaay in the back ground that some guy is waiting around the corner with a machete looking for boobs to hack off.
Nope, I didn't see the way those packages were oddly strewn in the back of that car with a sheet placed over it and I just peed myself a little when the old town psycho shows up in the rear view mirror ready to gouge out the drivers eye balls.

No my friends, I learn by listening, and by reading. Turn down that creepy fucking music (that's too much for my senses...I am ready jump on someones head like a Ferrel cat by the final dun in dun dun...duuuuuuuuun)
and turn on the subtitles so I can figure out this plot and whats really going on. This of course, is not limited to my movie watching, I realized rather recently, that this is how I deal with real life situations. Thanks adult hood for finally giving me some fucking slice of understanding with how to operate myself. You've been holding out on me for the past I dunno...decade.
If I can't read it or hear about it. I don't know shit about it.
Case in point: I have no idea who does and doesn't like me, by the look on their face. If they are giving me a "eat shit you fucking poser" look, I won't see it. I will keep yammering on about how I love Ragu over Prego and that The Sounds is highly underrated and I have been dabbling in thinking of going blonde like Maja, but then I remember I am kind of a chunk so that would make my face bigger, somehow...I think I read it in Glamour.
But if that same girl is like "Hey I don't fucking like you" or worse tells her friend that she doesn't like me, I will sit there confused because I thought she really did, I just thought that mean face was just her face, and she was ugly or something.

Another instance is when I am watching an example of something...say my dad showing me what part of my mind fucking van is mind fucking me and he is pointing out things to me and he is talking so fast all I can hear is "well the Axl Rose piston shimmyjigger is broke so we have to get a water pump hose oil goes right here and you didn't check the water did you? Well the water fiscalpeeve studemaker Redenbacher is gasket bad, all bad. You really need to check the oil more often" All the while he is pointing at shit and taking shit out to show me and I am just nodding like a good daughter should because he is taking the time to explain something that is really crappin up my day and wait did he just say Redenbacher? Because popcorn sounds excellent right now.

A more serious side effect to this whole cute wittle quirky quirk***, is that in times of emergency, say...when Jedi was sitting in the grass the other day and my mom wanted to take a picture, he fell over backwards with a huge thud. I was standing right next to him. This is not unusual behavior for me, I see the baby mind can't process it fast enough "and this is happening" my mind blurbs to my body that is firmly in one spot.
I reach down, dust the grass off, pat, pat, there there, you're okay.
My moms yelling at me "You were right there! Why didn't you catch him?!"

Oh he's fine. And don't worry, I am googling "symptoms of a concussion" right now, and I think he might be totally fine. Here take him, I have to uhhh...go to the bathroom.

**It is super fucking annoying for all who tolerate to be near me

***everyone might need therapy when my job here is done


  1. Replies
    1. Completely and utterly, wholly, and genuinely want to hang out with you. And I *especially* think we should watch movies together in front of others because between the both of us, they would never sit through another movie in silence ever again, and maybe, just maybe, if we're lucky, we can be on a slightly different stream (not a period pun at all) and be able to answer each others questions about the movie because what I hate the most is when I'm asking all those questions and no one says anything!