Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Hallelujah! Holy Shit!

Like most people, I tend to find solace in quality, moving films. The ones that really do it for me are Amelie, Magnolia, Secretary, Pink Flamingos and National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. Christmas Vacation is especially reminding me that I'm not alone these days, in ways S & M, drag queens, and raining frogs aren't. You know that scene from CV where he combines just about all known curse words into a moving performance that leaves not a dry eye in the house? (I like to think of it as the OB, as opposed to the OG--Original Britney, not Original Gangsta'. And yeah, you can use that). Well, that's pretty much how my life is every damn day. Except for the Christmas part. We only celebrate that once annually.



So, for this scenario, let me offer up the following character roles.

The old man that's asking if it's my letter to the looney bin has totally got to be my husband. Not because the guy's being mean and obnoxious, but because my husband knows that I kind of want to go to the looney bin for Christmas next year. It'll be like a retreat.
Cousin Eddie might as well be my fucking cats.
Helen? The wife? The one that's being nice to Griswald/Me? My imaginary friend.
And the mailman is really my actual mailman. Lik, in real life, he comes and brings my mail daily so I don't have to walk to the mailbox. But he breaks my door each time. (Ok, whatever. He's not really, but screw him because if he were, it'd make this post a whole lot funnier. D-bag.)
And I guess everyone else are/is/(what?) just the people I pay to hang out with me. And who knows who the kids are. Or even WHERE.

But yeah, I feel like cursing like that every day, and no, I am not even kidding. I'll give you a rundown of this morning, for example. It's a chain of events that will probably get googled and praised for it's comedic masterpieceishness, but then I'll have to fess up and be all like, "no, it's nonfiction." But they'll love me anyway because I remind them of superwoman and they'll take me out to dinner after having located a babysitter for me all by themselves.

So T9 was all "talking" at me a whole lot this morning, making the cats spazz out and Plus One draw signs for help and tape them on the front window for any possible passerbys. And then I felt bad so I let Plus One watch his favorite movie, The Incredibles. The one where they say "shut up" more than any other kids movie ever, probably. Then it was lunch time, so I started cooking some grilled cheese because it's really healthy. So my husband comes in to the living room and we start reminiscing bitching about how crazy Easter was with my extended family. And I'm all haha-I-love-my-family-because-we-can-complain-together! (seriously) and then I smell burnt bread. So I drop the happy routine and am instantly pissed instead. You know why? Because it was the last two pieces of bread, and the only other bread is in the freezer. You know, FROZEN. So I enlist my husband for help, because YES this is a crisis. And he takes the half that's not burnt and combines it with a frozen piece and tells me it won't be ruined. I don't believe him but I don't have another plan, and instead I remember the ruined clothes I have soaking in the laundry room. So I go to check on them to make sure they aren't drowning, and GREAT all the water drained out because the PLUG MALFUNTIONED of all things. So I curse and stuff and my husband comes in and he laughs at my negative attitude, and I try not to curse at him and I fix the useless plug and start the hot water running. Then I go back to check on the sorry, rigged sandwich that's on the stove. And then maybe I forget I'm pissed and start joking about my family again. And then I remember the water's running and joke that the room is probably flooding because I make jokes when I'm happy. But, whoa JOKE'S ON ME because it actually is flooding. Rapidly. So I yell that it's another crisis because this time it really is and as we're mopping up the floor, all I can think of is that the grilled cheese is probably burning again. And then I'm wanting to kill the cats because there's pieces of cat litter stuck to the bottom of my wet feet.

At least summer is coming, which means my mustache hairs will be blonde instead of brown and I won't have to trim them for a while.

The end.

3 comments:

  1. HAHA! this one sounded so accurate, i could picture each event as you described them. you do deserve a dinner and a movie (and maybe a pedicure thrown in too) for making it through each day and being able to laugh about it all.

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  2. Cat litter can completely ruin my day. The other day I was screaming at my cats that I was going to make them wear Depends and get rid of the litter boxes. I know that sounds stupid now, but at the moment it seemed like a Eureka moment.

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  3. ...where's the tylenol?

    Pure genius to bring out Christmas Vacaction in April and it totally gel with the post. I think I might have to read more of your stuff.

    I know...pressure.

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