The postmortem

Mr. Abe the Babe has raised a good point. I never told y'all how the movie was. Well, suffice to say, the whole experience was an adventure. I bought a ticket for the first matinee at 12:30, and arrived nice and early, which was a good thing. The place was packed and the excitement in the room was palpable. I got a gorgeous seat, dead center, and sitting between some truly handsome fellas.

A Tamara Sandwich!

Anyway, you know how those commercials sort of play on a loop until it's time for the previews? Well, at 12:35, the same three lame commercials were playing on a loop. At about 12:50, they were still playing and folks were getting het up. It was the worst version of Groundhog Day ever. So at 12:55, an employee comes in and says, the projector is broken and they're trying to fix it, so we'll have to wait until it's fixed and they don't know how long it'll take. Anyone who wants to change theatres and see the next show at 1:10 can switch theatres. Everyone except for six other people and myself rushed the doors. I literally had only reached down to get my purse and when I looked up, three-quarters of the room were at the door. I knew I would never get a seat, and certainly, not such a perfect one as I had, bookended with beefcake.

Anyhoo.

Fifteen minutes later, the same dude comes in and says to the six of us, well, the other room is totally full, and they won't get the projector fixed that day, so we can see the 1:30 show upstairs and get a free movie voucher to boot.

I sprinted like a madwoman, hoping against all hope to get a decent seat, and there it was, waiting for me. Of course, there weren't beautiful men flanking me, but it was an entertaining place to be nonetheless. Mr. Macho on my right was so crying when certain people died. Uh huh.
The older lady on my left flinched a lot at the loud noises.

Oh, right, the movie.

Well, it was good, it was an X-Men flick, I went in with no expectations so I had loads of fun. Neat effects, Halle Berry was a lot less useless in this one as Storm, pity it took them so long to figure out how important a chacracter she is. But well, truth be told, it's not like Halle's a particularly great actress or anything. Fine as all get-out, but well shoot, some of my students could whomp her butt onscreen. In true Storm form, she does spend a fair bit of time getting her keester kicked, but she pulls through in the end with an awesome payback. I liked her new hairdo. They mention the new 'do in the script, I think she made the director put it in. Jean Grey has a new hairdo, and she doesn't have to have anybody remark upon it. Hmph. Oscar winners.

I won't spoil the end, but I'll say this: although there will apparently be no more X-Men films, they're setting you up for a buttload of spinoffs. Also: Vinnie Jones is the BOMB, I've loved him since forever (okay, since Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels), and I just wish he'd come to his senses and ask me out on a date.

Also, you should wait until the end of the credits, because there's nifty new twist.

Well, this is me, signing off. Meaningful content is surely on the way, but now I've gotta boogie and go meet my girl G for lunch.
Cheers!

Rowr.

I'm going to see X-Men 3 in less than an hour.

It doesn't matter that I'm virtually broke, or that the movie is reputed to be crap.
Nosirree, none of that matters. And why?

Is it because I'm such a die-hard fan of the X-Men?

Is it because a superhero movie has never been a piece of exceptional cinema, and I therefore have no expectations whatever?

The answer, darling dears is right below:




Sigh...

When the moooon...is in the 7th howwwwse....

Ah do declare....

I hope those sparks I'm seeing aren't the beginnings of a migraine. I'm certain it's not a psychodelic drug trip (since those are so, like, last Tuesday). No, but seriously. This doesn't look good for the good guys.

Is it a subconscious desire to avoid work that is manifesting itself? Do I have Munchausen Syndrome?

Oh, actually, now that I've actually looked it up, it would appear that a major factor is the desire for attention and sympathy. Well, I've never used physical ailments to garner sympathy, I just talk about my failed marriage to get that!

MWAH! HAH! HAH!

BWAH-HA-HA-HA-HAWWW!

Hyuk! Hyuk! Heeheeheeheehoohoohoohoohahaha!

WAH-ha! Wha-ha! Ha. Ha.

Hee hee hee hee.
woo.

(Okay, seriously though, you know I'm kidding about all that, right?)

Now I've gone and hurt myself with that little laughing burst. I hope it was worth it and you're all entertained. Now I need to go lie down.

Chillin' like a villain

Yes indeedy Dahlings, that's how it's been goin' down these days.

Been hanging out with Mom for the past couple of days, and it's been deeply wicked. I've been eating, sleeping, reading, eating and braiding my hair. Lot of eating, lot of braiding. Wait till y'all see me. I may be puffy, but I look good.

Under normal circumstances, braiding would have been replaced by shopping, but the sad reality is that I am once again po' and since I won't be able to afford trips to the hair dresser for at least another month, I figured it would be worth it to invest some time in a 'do that will last for a month, be lovely and time-saving in the mornings.
(Well, not that I actuallly get to work before noon since I'm completely useless in the morning, but you get my drift.)

Because if you know black women's hair, darlings (and I do) it is involved. Can I get a witness? Whether your hair is permed or you're rocking a natural or doin' the dreadlocks thing, it's a lot of work. Brigitte has neatly avoided the pitfalls of time-consuming hair by rocking a really short 'fro, but then again, she's petite and feminine, so it works. If you've got a big 'ol pumpkin head such as myself, a short 'fro looks like a short stop on the road to Transamerica, if you get my drift. Anyway.

And let me tell you, hanging out with Mom and Fabian has given me tons more material for the dictionary. I've gotta write it all down before I forget.

I actually feel a wee bit guilty because I haven't gotten much work done and I really did intend to get some stuff done. What can I say? It's the hair. In fact, I am altogether too ashamed to admit how many hours of work have gone into this coif'.
But doggone it, I look good.
Heh heh.

And how am I doing lately, you may ask? Ahhh....
It's worth mentioning that Mom is proving to be, as usual, a wonderful balm for all that ails me when life gets lousy. Not everybody gets a supafly mom like mine, as we all know. Supafly moms aren't perfect, but they are so, well...supafly, that even their flaws are a part of their charm. It shows you how to bear up under your own with grace and fabulosity.
Yeah, I'm so chill that I wonder if I'll be able to bring it back home with me. I guess we'll all find out.

What's your flavour?

**blissful sigh**

Do I ever like y'all a LOT.
I should put you in a jar and pickle you.
I could also salt you, smoke you, or candy you, according to your personal tastes.

All I know is that you must be preserved.

*m'wah!*

All Points Bulletin...

Calling all friends:

Today, I signed the papers (yes, those papers) and I'm a bit of a mess.

We Shall Overcome...

Ah yes, dahlings, soon, will come a day that I get to bed at a decent hour, when the madness of work slows down a wee bit (not because of me being reasonable or anything, y'all know I'm a workaholic, but when my system just crashes) and you know what that means, don't you?

JUNK FOOD EXTRAVAGANZA
ON THE SOFA OF DOOM!

Yeeeah, baybee...I've decided to just accept that this is my pattern for now. Why fight it?

So, sign up now to join in my Festival of Sloth and Debauchery next week. Bring yourself and some DVD's and let the good times roll! I'm serious! My whatless hours begin on Tuesday, May 9th at whenever I roll out of bed and onto the sofa, and basically will last until Friday. Saturday is the beginning of grocery day and housecleaning day, and organizing my files day and other responsible type things. I'm taking appointments right now. Y'all know my cell number, call it! Drop me a line in comments! Send me an email! But do it before next Monday night when I finish the final strike of the set for our super-D-duper Youthworks show (May 6th and 7th)
or else I may not be awake to take your call. I'm just sayin'

I've begun a swear jar last week because my potty mouth got out of hand and when I got up to 10 dollas, I said to myself:

"Self, this is getting expensive, You obviously need to stop stressing and learn how to surrender. You can't control everything, what will be will be, do what you can, and let the rest take care of itself."

And then I respond (oh yes, we've gotten to that point, I'm in deep trouble, I have conversations with myself now, I'll have to bring it up with my therapist. Crap.) :

"Shut the *&$#&*@^ up, you. I'm working here."