funny
R.I.P.D?
I’m not a critic. But I do enjoy going to the movie theater. I tend to go to a matinee usually by myself. Despite what popular culture leads us to believe, going to a movie is not really conducive to a date or group setting. You can’t talk and get to know each other. And popcorn wreaks havoc on the breath. So, I like to go alone.
I went to see White House Down a couple of weeks ago. This movie didn’t make a deep enough impression for me to remember to write a blog about it the following week. The plot involved something about the President of the United States and some inside baddies with one Channing Tatum to save the day. Really, that’s enough to know about that one. But one of the previews before the movie was for R.I.P.D. That looks really stupid, I thought.
Then the big media push for it came on television the following week. By opening day my tune changed to, it might be kind of funny. So, I went to see it Friday afternoon. I bought my small Dr. Pepper (ah, worth the price of admission right there) and small popcorn (which together cost more than my ticket).
If you are planning on seeing R.I.P.D. please stop reading right now. Or at least, skip to the very last line. There will be huge spoilers and I don’t want you upset with me.
About five minutes into the movie I remembered something very important. Ryan Reynolds bugs me. I’m sure he is a nice enough guy but I personally don’t think he can act. He more reacts to the script than anything. I swear every role I’ve seen him in has been the same character.
Oh yeah! If only I had thought of that sooner I could have saved me some money. But I did get a Dr. Pepper out of the deal so I was okay with it.
The theater was a little too quiet. Even during the jokes. That’s what happens when the funniest parts of a movie are used for the previews. All in all, it wasn’t a terrible movie and I think it has the potential to grow on me. You know, when it is relegated to its monthly FX viewing and long after I forget about the previews. I predict I’ll watch it on television. And I may even appreciate it. I think.
The premise is a tricky one. The main character dies shortly after the opening credits. He dies after making a very serious error in judgment and before he can rectify the situation. Yes, he is a good guy and yes, he made a very serious mistake. But he can use the excuse “the devil made me do it.” Almost literally.
The winding up scenes made me nervous. The one thing I don’t like about this type of premise is the forced happy endings. Oh, the character isn’t really dead. He’s just sleeping. And now he’s awake and oh – happy day!
Pu-lease!
Or that tender moment when the dead person can speak to the living and gain closure for both.
Pshaw!
In my experience, that veil between life and death is pretty final. There are no second chances to say what needs to be said. I just don’t like those kinds of scenarios.
So, why did I go see this movie, again?
Everybody sees Ryan Reynolds character as a little Chinese guy and Jeff Bridges as a sexy blond. Now, that’s funny. Plus, Mary-Louise Parker does a great job with her character and manages to salvage the movie.
This movie did delve into the whole ghost and human tête-à-tête. But by that point in the storyline it is forgivable. After all, it is just a movie so why tarnish the character’s reputation? It did make me a little nervous when it headed to a happily ever after ending. Albeit with a twist. It veered from that path though. And I appreciate that.
When all is said and done, do I recommend it? Yes. On Red Box.
If the Lees go a-missing…
“Our neighbor was doing something last night after 11:00,” my dad said casually during dinner. “I heard scrape, scrape, scrape. So, I got up and looked out the window. He was digging in the alley.”
Just missing one piece of the puzzle…
I never got the chance to name a child. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t have ideas. I planned to combine a scripture name with a family name for each child. Here’s what I came up with:
Moroni Jack. This is quite possibly the most awesome name ever! Moroni is a double whammy. Not only is he the last Book of Mormon prophet to write in the book but there was also a Chief Captain Moroni over the Nephite armies. Jack is after my mom’s dad. I just really like the name Jack. This is the name my family makes fun of me over. They don’t think it’s as cool as I do. Obviously, there is no accounting for taste.
Rebekah Rion (pronounced Ryan). Rebekah, Isaac’s wife, is one of my favorite scripture heroines found in the Old Testament. And Rion? Okay, that’s a bit of a stretch. My grandma’s name was Marion. But she hated the spelling because it was the masculine form (as if in John Wayne’s real name).
Emma Zoe (rhymes with no). Emma after Joseph Smith’s wife. Zoe after the same grandma from above. Before the name Zoe became popular with the long e at the end, my grandma (born in 1902) went by Zoe – long o and silent e.
Samuel James. Samuel is a prominent scripture name throughout all the holy writ. James is after my other grandpa. Again, I just like the name Sam. I picture this kid becoming a famous DJ – “This is Sammy J playin today!”
I never figured out a way to work in my other grandma – Tomie. Still working on that.
But during Sunday School on Sunday, we learned about a man named Zebedee. You just don’t hear about many Zebedees nowadays. So, I’m adding one more to the list. Zebedee Lee. Sorry, Moroni Jack, there’s a new cool name in town. (And yes, I listened to the actual lesson, too. Eventually. It took a while to recover after I thought of the name and kept repeating it in my mind. I thoroughly entertained myself for a few minutes)
I guess I need to write a few stories and give my characters the names I picked out. Because they are just too good to go to waste. Perhaps I’ll start with Zebedee Lee. Just as soon as I say it five times fast.
Moth country
The other night I turned off the light and waited for sleep to find me. While the Sandman ran a little late getting to my bedroom I heard flip, flip, flippity-flip, flip, flippity-flip. Great, another moth. Since I heard the little annoyer as I tried drifting off to sleep my mind played out some weird scenarios. I won’t go into detail but one involved the moth landing in my mouth after I fell asleep. That woke me up and I turned on the light.
Accidental poet
I have been writing ever since I can remember. Almost every job I’ve had I have found a way to jot thoughts down. Whether on a napkin while at the theater, or the back of receipts at K-Mart, or post-it notes – there is always a little scrap of paper for me to doodle my thoughts. My bedroom is a cluttered mess of all my little notes. I don’t keep them because I think I’m brilliant (well, maybe a little), I keep them because they are a little piece of me. So, I’ve been writing a very long time.
I wrote a lot of poems. At least, that’s what I call them. Poetry about people, jobs, awkward situations, funny thoughts – you name it, I wrote about it. About ten or so years ago I realized something. I am not a poet. My writing seemed trite. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t improve. I felt I had peaked and so I stopped writing. Poetry anyway. I could never stop writing completely. That would be like holding steam inside a kettle with no outlet.
A couple of years ago, my friend told me about the blog she writes. I had never followed any blogs at that point. But it sounded like fun and an outlet for my writing. I didn’t expect much (but there’s always that small hope of being an internet sensation).
I started with prose because that’s what I like to write. One night, I suffered a case of writer’s block. I wanted to post something but the well was dry. So, I turned to a poem compilation I had given my mom of my old poems. I remember I felt embarrassed for publishing a poem and I didn’t expect much. Actually, that’s not true. I expected someone with a Poetry PhD to call me on it. “Poet fake!” I expected to read in the comments.
What happened instead surprised me. I received my first subscriber and received a compliment. But I shrugged it off.
But that did give me the courage to try another poem a few nights later. I received a few likes.
How odd.
After a few poems later, I decided to attempt two poems a week. One poem to release the serious side of me and the other, well, a little more me.
Every time I publish a poem I am surprised at the reaction. Since I don’t know the future of my blog or how long I’ll keep it up, I decided to protect my poetry. That’s why I decided to compile them and let the fine and willing folks at Amazon help me out.
That’s how a girl who describes herself as a non-poet ended up with two poetry books. Go figure!
Do you keep a crystal ball in your purse?
I had just started a new job in a new city. For the most part, I was a quiet little mouse in my corner trying to adjust to my new personal and professional environment. One of my new coworkers approached me and introduced herself. We shook hands and she said slowly, “Oh my, you’re going to be famous one day.”
Uh, what?
Chip holidays
Thanksgiving
you know where you stand with me –
my favorite
and you always will be.
Accidental fbf
Have you ever been enjoying an apple while out and about and decided, Hey, I should check Facebook? And have you ever logged onto Facebook using your smartphone and tried scrolling? But thanks to some apple juice on your finger it doesn’t slide but kind of sticks and before you know it you send a friend request to somebody you haven’t met yet?
And there you are, away from your computer and no way to recall the request. You have to let it go and so you hope that person rejects you.
And has that person ever accepted your friend request?
And is that person a friend of a friend that a couple of days later you find yourself at the same party?
And while at the party have you ever overheard that person say your name to another friend and both look in your direction?
Have you then looked at the person sitting next to you and quickly pretend to be deep in the most engaging conversation since Eve brought the fruit to Adam?
And for the rest of the night, have you ever avoided your newest fbf because you were too tired to cope with the embarrassment gracefully?
Yeah, me neither.
Trevor Christine
Sure, it looks innocent enough
I bought my car last September. A cute Toyota RAV 4 that I coveted for a long time. Promptly upon leaving the car lot (and signing my life away) I christened is Trevor. Yeah, Trevor the Toyota RAV 4. It doesn’t quite roll off the tongue like Felix the Ford Explorer, but it is clever enough for me. And wrong. It should have been dubbed Christine – as if in, Stephen King’s horror story of a possessed car.
When I test drove it, I put it through all the normal routines.
√ Made it up the belt route while exceeding the speed limit (meaning horsepower is decent)
√ Power windows worked pushing the down and then the up button (former car story)
√ I looked cute in it (self explanatory)
ck's days 