The adorable child in the back dancing to the beat of her own drummer is Danika. Nice work in dance class, little lady!
To watch the video in full screen, click the icon on the bottom right of the video that has four arrows.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
A Quick Observation...
Raisins are not food. What lazy ass S.O.B. let grapes sit around until they were all dry and wrinkly and then said... "Hey! I think I'll eat these!" No. Just no. That's gross.
The man who covered them in chocolate? Fuckin' genius.
That is all. Carry on with your day.
P.S. Raisin is a funny looking word. The more I look at it the more I don't believe that raisin means "raisin."
The man who covered them in chocolate? Fuckin' genius.
That is all. Carry on with your day.
P.S. Raisin is a funny looking word. The more I look at it the more I don't believe that raisin means "raisin."
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
"Home" Is Where All Your Old Crap Is
Every so often I make it back home for a visit. I'm all grown up now, all busy and shit, so these visits don't happen too often. You really can't go back too regularly, because as soon as you cross the threshold of your childhood home you're instantly twelve years old. It's true. When I walk into my parents home, I drop my suitcase just inside the door and I forget EVERYTHING. Suddenly I'm a kid again and I call my parents Mommy and Daddy and I want to stay up late and eat ALL of the ice cream and I think every time the phone rings, it must be for meeeee!
Everything at "home" is so familiar. I like that I can walk into the kitchen and find the plates exactly where they were 25 years ago. At home there is always a never ending supply of tea bags and sweet n low, toilet paper and salad. Apparently these are the essentials in life. The joke is that if my Mom, (Mop...that's what I call her) gets down to one case of toilet paper, she has to make an emergency trip to Sam's Club to stock up. The woman has a great fear of running out of toilet paper. I guess she likes a clean ass or something. Weird. If I'm lucky enough to be home for longer than a few days I might get to see my Dad's infamous bill face. This mysterious face only comes out once a month and it's a toss up on whether or not you really want to see it. Entertaining to watch, but ohhhh soooo serious. For the record, the bill face does not speak while it's in use. When I was a kid, before I recognized the bill face, I would ask my Dad, "Whatcha doin', Pop?" And he'd answer without thinking and with a big sigh, "The Bills." Oh. Hmmm...that didn't sound very fun and not something a kid could do, so I'd scamper off to play fashion plates or homemade karaoke until the bill face and the bill drawer went back to their hiding places.
By far, my favorite thing to do at home is to go to my bedroom and look at my old stuff. I know what's there, I left it behind almost 17 years ago. On purpose. There's a comfort in knowing that somewhere in this world there is a place that contains my stuff. Physical memories of the past, a simpler time when all I had to think about was if my science homework was done or how many pennies were in my piggie bank or what weekend the all-night skate would be down at the skating rink. Late at night after my parents have gone to bed, I start digging through my drawers where I come across old rings and necklaces, a random pair of socks, notes written by my best friend in middle school, all folded up in that awesome middle school way. After I've inspected everything in my drawers, I head for the hope chest. I gently open the cedar box, so large it reminds me of a coffin. The smell of cedar fills my nostrils and more memories fill my head. Stacked neatly inside are my senior high school pictures. I can't help but laugh at them...I have that dreamy far away look on my face, bright red lipstick and totally 80's hair. I'm not sure if the seventeen year old girl in that picture knew where her life would lead her, so far it's been a good ride but I think 17 year old Ginger wanted a little more than 35 year old Ginger has now. But for a moment it's fun to flip through the old pictures, pick up the trophies and remember all the fun times I had. I like to keep in touch with the 13 year old me, say hello to her every now and then and remember how much fun it was to blow off the day and lay around at the beach. There needs to be more of that when you grow up!
Last but not least is my closet....ohhhh my closet. It's now filled with half of Mop's wardrobe, but buried deep within I find my poofy red prom dress. Truth be told, it's the best dress I EVER had! In an unusual turn of events, my Dad was the one to take me shopping for that dress and I remember when I walked out of the dressing room he instantly said, "that's the dress!" And it was...bright red, a little poofy, a little scrunchy, but just right for my senior prom. Oh how many memories a prom dress can bring. I spent all day getting ready for prom, getting my hair done with half a can of aqua net, painting my nails and waiting for my date to pick me up. We headed off to my Grandma's house so she could see me all dressed up. She was sick with lung cancer and the visit was the hilight of her night, I loved having her be a part of that day as much as she loved being a part of it. Once we departed Grandma's house, we stopped by McDonald's for dinner where I ate chicken nuggets and answered the many questions from the other patrons about my plans for the night. "PROM, of course," I said...and oh, by the way, my date is a cheap bastard. I'll never forget walking out of the bathroom at the dance with the back of my dress trapped in my pantyhose. MORTIFYING...except I felt the breeze before anyone saw my hiney. Phew! Also left at home was my Army dress uniform. It hasn't fit me for years but I love to look at it, still pressed from the last time I wore it, medals adorn the chest, my name tag still in place. I can't even begin to recount my short time in the Army, but suffice it to say, it was fun, scary, hard, annoying, and invigorating all at once.
As my visit home comes to a close I contemplate packing up all my old stuff and taking it with me. And every time that thought crosses my mind I veto the idea completely. My old things don't hold the same meaning in my house. They belong back "home" where the 6 year old me still lives. The kid with curlers in her hair eating homemade popsicles and petting a cat named Precious.
Everything at "home" is so familiar. I like that I can walk into the kitchen and find the plates exactly where they were 25 years ago. At home there is always a never ending supply of tea bags and sweet n low, toilet paper and salad. Apparently these are the essentials in life. The joke is that if my Mom, (Mop...that's what I call her) gets down to one case of toilet paper, she has to make an emergency trip to Sam's Club to stock up. The woman has a great fear of running out of toilet paper. I guess she likes a clean ass or something. Weird. If I'm lucky enough to be home for longer than a few days I might get to see my Dad's infamous bill face. This mysterious face only comes out once a month and it's a toss up on whether or not you really want to see it. Entertaining to watch, but ohhhh soooo serious. For the record, the bill face does not speak while it's in use. When I was a kid, before I recognized the bill face, I would ask my Dad, "Whatcha doin', Pop?" And he'd answer without thinking and with a big sigh, "The Bills." Oh. Hmmm...that didn't sound very fun and not something a kid could do, so I'd scamper off to play fashion plates or homemade karaoke until the bill face and the bill drawer went back to their hiding places.
By far, my favorite thing to do at home is to go to my bedroom and look at my old stuff. I know what's there, I left it behind almost 17 years ago. On purpose. There's a comfort in knowing that somewhere in this world there is a place that contains my stuff. Physical memories of the past, a simpler time when all I had to think about was if my science homework was done or how many pennies were in my piggie bank or what weekend the all-night skate would be down at the skating rink. Late at night after my parents have gone to bed, I start digging through my drawers where I come across old rings and necklaces, a random pair of socks, notes written by my best friend in middle school, all folded up in that awesome middle school way. After I've inspected everything in my drawers, I head for the hope chest. I gently open the cedar box, so large it reminds me of a coffin. The smell of cedar fills my nostrils and more memories fill my head. Stacked neatly inside are my senior high school pictures. I can't help but laugh at them...I have that dreamy far away look on my face, bright red lipstick and totally 80's hair. I'm not sure if the seventeen year old girl in that picture knew where her life would lead her, so far it's been a good ride but I think 17 year old Ginger wanted a little more than 35 year old Ginger has now. But for a moment it's fun to flip through the old pictures, pick up the trophies and remember all the fun times I had. I like to keep in touch with the 13 year old me, say hello to her every now and then and remember how much fun it was to blow off the day and lay around at the beach. There needs to be more of that when you grow up!
Last but not least is my closet....ohhhh my closet. It's now filled with half of Mop's wardrobe, but buried deep within I find my poofy red prom dress. Truth be told, it's the best dress I EVER had! In an unusual turn of events, my Dad was the one to take me shopping for that dress and I remember when I walked out of the dressing room he instantly said, "that's the dress!" And it was...bright red, a little poofy, a little scrunchy, but just right for my senior prom. Oh how many memories a prom dress can bring. I spent all day getting ready for prom, getting my hair done with half a can of aqua net, painting my nails and waiting for my date to pick me up. We headed off to my Grandma's house so she could see me all dressed up. She was sick with lung cancer and the visit was the hilight of her night, I loved having her be a part of that day as much as she loved being a part of it. Once we departed Grandma's house, we stopped by McDonald's for dinner where I ate chicken nuggets and answered the many questions from the other patrons about my plans for the night. "PROM, of course," I said...and oh, by the way, my date is a cheap bastard. I'll never forget walking out of the bathroom at the dance with the back of my dress trapped in my pantyhose. MORTIFYING...except I felt the breeze before anyone saw my hiney. Phew! Also left at home was my Army dress uniform. It hasn't fit me for years but I love to look at it, still pressed from the last time I wore it, medals adorn the chest, my name tag still in place. I can't even begin to recount my short time in the Army, but suffice it to say, it was fun, scary, hard, annoying, and invigorating all at once.
As my visit home comes to a close I contemplate packing up all my old stuff and taking it with me. And every time that thought crosses my mind I veto the idea completely. My old things don't hold the same meaning in my house. They belong back "home" where the 6 year old me still lives. The kid with curlers in her hair eating homemade popsicles and petting a cat named Precious.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Bridesmaids-A Movie Review
Tuesday morning...I woke up and decided I was going to see a movie tonight. This is unusual for me because I'm generally known as a movie hater, but I felt compelled to see this particular movie because I'd heard it was FUNNY. And...well...I like funny. Funny makes me laugh and feel all happyyyyyyyy inside. Watching movies usually makes me crazy. I'm trapped. For two whole hours. In the same seat. My mind doesn't stop...I think about EVERYTHING...I have to pee. Am I hungry? Should I get my nose pierced? How about a tattoo today, that might be fun. Random sporadic thinking that cannot be contained. In preparation for my big night out I texted 11 friends...yes, ELEVEN friends, to see if anyone wanted to go with me. If you're still reading this story, you can probably guess by now that I went to see Bridesmaids alone. And you might also be thinking...wow...that's kind of pathetic. And I can see why you might be thinking that, but I swear, it was anything but.
I arrived at the theater with 15 minutes to spare. I was excited. It's date night, after all. I take MYSELF out, and the only person I have to worry about is meeeee!!! One ticket for the movie in hand and it's off to the snack bar. Large popcorn and a large drink? Yes, please! I made my way over to the ticket guy and looked at him in desperation as I realized my all important movie ticket was buried somewhere within my wallet, keys, cell phone, popcorn and coke. As it turns out I really DO only have two hands. I sheepishly grinned at the 16 year old movie ticket taker boy and said, "Wow, it's really hard to carry all this by yourself!" He was not amused...so I did what any rational middle aged woman would do...I pointed to the ticket with my nose...and said, "It's there, under the popcorn...no...left hand...if you want it, you're going to have to take it!" And he did and he tossed the stub on top of the popcorn...and then I realized I needed to pee. Well this is going to be inconvenient. I quickly shuffled to the women's bathroom and shoved the door open with my butt. I commandeered the handicapped stall and gently disengaged myself from the popcorn and giant coke while I pulled down the diaper changing table with my knee, all the time praying there wouldn't be any poop smears on it. Score! No poop. And then I...wait...do we need to hear the details of this part? No, probably not. I was in the bathroom. I did bathroom-type things...including a good bit of handwashing. Moving on...
As I entered the theater, I realized that I can sit wherever I want. I'm ONE person. I don't have to make sure there is enough room for my brood. No asking someone else, "Where do you want to sit?" I don't have to automatically go to the front of the theater as I had in years past because today it's just me and I shall sit in the middle! Feeling a little uneasy as I was the first to arrive, I nervously looked around wondering if they'd cancel the movie if I was the only one. They can't do that, can they? Well, I suppose anything can happen, but I'm really looking forward to the next two hours, so bring on the entertainment! As I'm waiting, I decide to make myself comfortable. Loud jingly keys, wallet and cell phone on the floor, popcorn in my lap, drink at my side, feet up and I'm a happy girl.
The previews start and I think I'm home free. And then it happened. To my left, three college girls set up camp, complete with whispering and giggling, but hey, at least they left a fag seat. (You don't know what a fag seat is? Too bad! Figure it out!) I'm happily shoving fistfuls of greasy popcorn in my face when I spot the freaking family reunion walking in mid-way through the previews. It's dark and the three women look directly at me and my prime movie watching spot and make a beeline for me. Really, y'all? Really? There are like 22 people in the entire theater and...yup...you guessed it, Miss "I'm-drenched-in-Cinnabar perfume-and-you-WILL-smell-me-from a-mile-away" perched her perfect little hiney directly next to mine. Ok, I didn't actually SEE her hiney...being dark and all, but she was a petite little thang, wearing a pencil skirt and a pretty flowing blouse, expertly coiffed hair, dangly gold earrings, Tammy Faye Baker makeup and that GOD-AWFUL perfume. Fuckin' kill me now! My nostrils have been invaded. As she sat down, I realized my wallet and phone were directly under her legs, so I quickly reached down and promptly found myself with a handful of foot! I say the first thing that comes to mind, "Oh my gosh, I TOTALLY did not mean to grab your foot!" I uttered this semi-apology while I still had her piggies in my grasp. Finally able to let go, I floundered around on the floor til I could locate my wallet and phone. Ms. Perfect seemed totally unfazed by the foot grabbing incident, so I allowed myself to relax and wait for the feature presentation.
WARNING!!! If you are planning to see Bridesmaids, the movie, you may not want to read further as I plan to spoil the shit out of this movie for you. Ok, not really, but I gotta tell some-freaking-body about the funny parts of this movie. You've been warned...your spoiler alert has been thusly posted.
The movie begins with an awkward bedroom scene...you know the kind...you're sitting next to your MOTHER in the theater wondering why in the hell you brought her to this movie and why didn't you check the online reviews first to find out what naughty little bits might be in this flick that you absolutely do NOT wish to see with your mother! But hey, ya know, I'm not here with my mama, so I am not wishing the floor would open up and swallow me. The girl two seats down from me, however, is not so lucky. The 30'ish year old girl is there with her Grandmother and Mother (aforementioned perfume head.) Grandma is loudlyyyyy whispering, "Oh my gosh! This is really NOT necessary! Why do they show such things in movies these days?" Oh good lord, Grandma, don't get your panties in a twist, k? It's just sex, it ain't gonna kill ya, and if my calculations are correct, I believe you engaged in "such things" and created the stench to my right some years ago! Hee hee! No...I did not say these things with my out loud voice. But I swear, I should have!
I decide early on that this movie is quite entertaining and I will do my absolute best to NOT make any superfluous trips to the john. Also I will be taking notes, mental notes, of all the life lessons being offered up for a mere five dollars and fifty cents. First life lesson: (Taken from awkward bedroom scene)
Douchey male: "Ohhhh, this is soooo awkward...I really want you to leave, but I don't want to sound like a dick."
Life Lesson #1: Any man that says this IS a dick and is not worth your time. Also, you should call him a dick to his face, it'll make you feel better. I promise.
As the movie progresses I am feeling less and less alone. As you can guess, a movie entitled, "Bridesmaids," attracts a predominantly female audience and tonight the theater is packed full of us lady-types. And ONE man. We're having a great time together, almost laughing on cue all together in a happy little chorus of lady laughs. I am thoroughly enjoying my "alone" time with these 20 ladies. Even stinky McGee's perfume has stopped annoying me. I like the female bonding. Yes I do.
The next scene shows the main character, Annie, hanging out at a coffee shop with her best friend, the bride. They are discussing Annie's booty call from the night before. I can't properly describe how damn funny it is when Annie contorts her body and closes one eye to do an impression of a penis. Nothing short of hilarious. She even uses her arms to look like the...um...well...you know...there are two of them...whatever, you get it! They catch up like only best friends can do, reading each other's minds with just a look.
Life Lesson #2: You need a best friend that you can laugh about penises with. It's a requirement for sanity.
As the movie progresses it becomes more apparent that Annie is a little lost and trying to find her way. She's a lonely single gal, always the bridesmaid and never the bride, and I can totally identify with "the cupcake scene." Poor thing goes home and spends a good amount of time elaborately preparing a beautiful cupcake. She makes just enough batter for the single cupcake, bakes it, frosts it, decorates it and places it on the counter. All that work for one cupcake that no one else will see. She stares at the cupcake for a while looking forlorn and then she does what any sensible woman should do. She picked the fuckin' thing up and shoved it in her face looking almost victorious and defeated all at the same time.
Life Lesson #3: Eat the cupcake. EAT THE FUCKING CUPCAKE!
Picking out the bridesmaids dresses...this obligatory task can be a great bonding time for the girls or it can be a disastrous miserable nightmare. In this case...total nightmare. The girls ate some baaaaaaad meat and the results in this all white dress shop were not pretty. Everyone dashes off to the bathroom...and...well...diarrhea is just funny. The plus sized bridesmaid, Megan, hops up onto the sink, hikes up her pretty pink dress and goes to town. That sink will never be the same. When the food poisoning finally hits the bride, she starts to run across the street to find an empty bathroom and makes it about halfway before she starts sinking to the ground yelling, "Oh God, it's happening...it's happening...I'm shitting in the street. I'm shitting IN.THE.STREET." Annie is looking out the door of the bridal shop at her street shitting friend with a really defeated look on her face mumbling, "You're really doing it, you're really shitting in the street."
Life Lesson #4: If the toilet is occupied, the sink is a good second choice. Followed closely by the middle of the street.
Ok...here's the deal. I can't write anymore...my fingers are bleeding, man! You HAVE to see this movie. That's it, there's really no other choice. It'll make you laugh. It'll make you cry. It'll make you want to eat some freaking wedding cake. Also...there's a really cute cop in this movie and he has a great accent...which brings me to my final life lesson.
Life Lesson #5: Guys with accents are hot. They can't even help it.
So there ya go, that's my big Tuesday night out. I think I was a pretty good date. I bought the popcorn, I paid for the movie, heck, I even gave myself a goodnight kiss. I do believe I'll be calling myself for a second date.
I arrived at the theater with 15 minutes to spare. I was excited. It's date night, after all. I take MYSELF out, and the only person I have to worry about is meeeee!!! One ticket for the movie in hand and it's off to the snack bar. Large popcorn and a large drink? Yes, please! I made my way over to the ticket guy and looked at him in desperation as I realized my all important movie ticket was buried somewhere within my wallet, keys, cell phone, popcorn and coke. As it turns out I really DO only have two hands. I sheepishly grinned at the 16 year old movie ticket taker boy and said, "Wow, it's really hard to carry all this by yourself!" He was not amused...so I did what any rational middle aged woman would do...I pointed to the ticket with my nose...and said, "It's there, under the popcorn...no...left hand...if you want it, you're going to have to take it!" And he did and he tossed the stub on top of the popcorn...and then I realized I needed to pee. Well this is going to be inconvenient. I quickly shuffled to the women's bathroom and shoved the door open with my butt. I commandeered the handicapped stall and gently disengaged myself from the popcorn and giant coke while I pulled down the diaper changing table with my knee, all the time praying there wouldn't be any poop smears on it. Score! No poop. And then I...wait...do we need to hear the details of this part? No, probably not. I was in the bathroom. I did bathroom-type things...including a good bit of handwashing. Moving on...
As I entered the theater, I realized that I can sit wherever I want. I'm ONE person. I don't have to make sure there is enough room for my brood. No asking someone else, "Where do you want to sit?" I don't have to automatically go to the front of the theater as I had in years past because today it's just me and I shall sit in the middle! Feeling a little uneasy as I was the first to arrive, I nervously looked around wondering if they'd cancel the movie if I was the only one. They can't do that, can they? Well, I suppose anything can happen, but I'm really looking forward to the next two hours, so bring on the entertainment! As I'm waiting, I decide to make myself comfortable. Loud jingly keys, wallet and cell phone on the floor, popcorn in my lap, drink at my side, feet up and I'm a happy girl.
The previews start and I think I'm home free. And then it happened. To my left, three college girls set up camp, complete with whispering and giggling, but hey, at least they left a fag seat. (You don't know what a fag seat is? Too bad! Figure it out!) I'm happily shoving fistfuls of greasy popcorn in my face when I spot the freaking family reunion walking in mid-way through the previews. It's dark and the three women look directly at me and my prime movie watching spot and make a beeline for me. Really, y'all? Really? There are like 22 people in the entire theater and...yup...you guessed it, Miss "I'm-drenched-in-Cinnabar perfume-and-you-WILL-smell-me-from a-mile-away" perched her perfect little hiney directly next to mine. Ok, I didn't actually SEE her hiney...being dark and all, but she was a petite little thang, wearing a pencil skirt and a pretty flowing blouse, expertly coiffed hair, dangly gold earrings, Tammy Faye Baker makeup and that GOD-AWFUL perfume. Fuckin' kill me now! My nostrils have been invaded. As she sat down, I realized my wallet and phone were directly under her legs, so I quickly reached down and promptly found myself with a handful of foot! I say the first thing that comes to mind, "Oh my gosh, I TOTALLY did not mean to grab your foot!" I uttered this semi-apology while I still had her piggies in my grasp. Finally able to let go, I floundered around on the floor til I could locate my wallet and phone. Ms. Perfect seemed totally unfazed by the foot grabbing incident, so I allowed myself to relax and wait for the feature presentation.
WARNING!!! If you are planning to see Bridesmaids, the movie, you may not want to read further as I plan to spoil the shit out of this movie for you. Ok, not really, but I gotta tell some-freaking-body about the funny parts of this movie. You've been warned...your spoiler alert has been thusly posted.
The movie begins with an awkward bedroom scene...you know the kind...you're sitting next to your MOTHER in the theater wondering why in the hell you brought her to this movie and why didn't you check the online reviews first to find out what naughty little bits might be in this flick that you absolutely do NOT wish to see with your mother! But hey, ya know, I'm not here with my mama, so I am not wishing the floor would open up and swallow me. The girl two seats down from me, however, is not so lucky. The 30'ish year old girl is there with her Grandmother and Mother (aforementioned perfume head.) Grandma is loudlyyyyy whispering, "Oh my gosh! This is really NOT necessary! Why do they show such things in movies these days?" Oh good lord, Grandma, don't get your panties in a twist, k? It's just sex, it ain't gonna kill ya, and if my calculations are correct, I believe you engaged in "such things" and created the stench to my right some years ago! Hee hee! No...I did not say these things with my out loud voice. But I swear, I should have!
I decide early on that this movie is quite entertaining and I will do my absolute best to NOT make any superfluous trips to the john. Also I will be taking notes, mental notes, of all the life lessons being offered up for a mere five dollars and fifty cents. First life lesson: (Taken from awkward bedroom scene)
Douchey male: "Ohhhh, this is soooo awkward...I really want you to leave, but I don't want to sound like a dick."
Life Lesson #1: Any man that says this IS a dick and is not worth your time. Also, you should call him a dick to his face, it'll make you feel better. I promise.
As the movie progresses I am feeling less and less alone. As you can guess, a movie entitled, "Bridesmaids," attracts a predominantly female audience and tonight the theater is packed full of us lady-types. And ONE man. We're having a great time together, almost laughing on cue all together in a happy little chorus of lady laughs. I am thoroughly enjoying my "alone" time with these 20 ladies. Even stinky McGee's perfume has stopped annoying me. I like the female bonding. Yes I do.
The next scene shows the main character, Annie, hanging out at a coffee shop with her best friend, the bride. They are discussing Annie's booty call from the night before. I can't properly describe how damn funny it is when Annie contorts her body and closes one eye to do an impression of a penis. Nothing short of hilarious. She even uses her arms to look like the...um...well...you know...there are two of them...whatever, you get it! They catch up like only best friends can do, reading each other's minds with just a look.
Life Lesson #2: You need a best friend that you can laugh about penises with. It's a requirement for sanity.
As the movie progresses it becomes more apparent that Annie is a little lost and trying to find her way. She's a lonely single gal, always the bridesmaid and never the bride, and I can totally identify with "the cupcake scene." Poor thing goes home and spends a good amount of time elaborately preparing a beautiful cupcake. She makes just enough batter for the single cupcake, bakes it, frosts it, decorates it and places it on the counter. All that work for one cupcake that no one else will see. She stares at the cupcake for a while looking forlorn and then she does what any sensible woman should do. She picked the fuckin' thing up and shoved it in her face looking almost victorious and defeated all at the same time.
Life Lesson #3: Eat the cupcake. EAT THE FUCKING CUPCAKE!
Picking out the bridesmaids dresses...this obligatory task can be a great bonding time for the girls or it can be a disastrous miserable nightmare. In this case...total nightmare. The girls ate some baaaaaaad meat and the results in this all white dress shop were not pretty. Everyone dashes off to the bathroom...and...well...diarrhea is just funny. The plus sized bridesmaid, Megan, hops up onto the sink, hikes up her pretty pink dress and goes to town. That sink will never be the same. When the food poisoning finally hits the bride, she starts to run across the street to find an empty bathroom and makes it about halfway before she starts sinking to the ground yelling, "Oh God, it's happening...it's happening...I'm shitting in the street. I'm shitting IN.THE.STREET." Annie is looking out the door of the bridal shop at her street shitting friend with a really defeated look on her face mumbling, "You're really doing it, you're really shitting in the street."
Life Lesson #4: If the toilet is occupied, the sink is a good second choice. Followed closely by the middle of the street.
Ok...here's the deal. I can't write anymore...my fingers are bleeding, man! You HAVE to see this movie. That's it, there's really no other choice. It'll make you laugh. It'll make you cry. It'll make you want to eat some freaking wedding cake. Also...there's a really cute cop in this movie and he has a great accent...which brings me to my final life lesson.
Life Lesson #5: Guys with accents are hot. They can't even help it.
So there ya go, that's my big Tuesday night out. I think I was a pretty good date. I bought the popcorn, I paid for the movie, heck, I even gave myself a goodnight kiss. I do believe I'll be calling myself for a second date.
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