Saints Alive! Shamrocks! The Rock! & Dumb as a Rock!

This blog post comes to you in two parts. Why? Because who doesn't like parts?

Part One: Happy St. Patrick's Day.


Between you and me, I absolutely abhor the color green - at least when I'm wearing it. I have olive skin and every time I wear green I never go the full day without hearing "are you feeling okay?" Apparently I look like I am going to blow chunks every time I wear the color so..... ;)

Part Two: Encounters with That Guy

Frequent Ranters who read my blog will surely know that I have a love of all things Teenager-y. I'm a functioning adult who is still best friends with her 14 year old self. As it turns out, my brother is exactly the same way. We enjoy watching the Disney Channel, Nickelodeon, and going to kids movies. We're still very in touch with our childhoods.


As kids we were really big fans of the Disney Witch Mountain movies. Since my bro and I both have names that start with 'T' we would often pretend to be Tia and Tony - the original alien kids who need to find their way to the fictional Witch Mountain.

Thus, it was no surprise to me when the bro called me and said, "Hey! Do you want to see Race to Witch Mountain with me this weekend?" Naturally, I was like, "hellz yeah I do!"

So on Saturday, The Bro and I went to the noon-thirty show at a movie theatre near my house. We got our tickets, filled up our popcorn buckets, poured our fountain pop and found two very nice seats in the center-center. I was happy. There wasn't too large a crowd. A few families and a few adult couples or pairs of siblings that, like us, had watched the origionals when they were kids.


However, it was during this venture to the movies that my bro and I met That Guy. You know that guy who stands outside the monkey cage at the zoo and bangs on the glass and screams "DO SOMETHING!" When in reality it is he who should be locked behind glass. Well on Saturday, he brought his whole damn family to the movies. And the bro and I sat behind him and 10 seats to the left.


First, let me describe him to you. He was middle-aged; about 45. Short and plumpy. With him were three little monkeys. Very small. Very wild. The littlest boy was very proud to be potty trained. I know this because he kept running in and out of the theatre and announcing to EVERYONE which potty break number he was on...(and I stopped counting at four).

Now, I expect some of this behavior when I go to an afternoon Saturday kids movie. I also expect that the parents will shush them. But no, not that guy.

Instead, he decided to treat everyone in the theatre to his commentary. The first ten minuets were speant listening him to him go "COOL" or "NEAT" But the thing that really got me was when after AnnaSofia's character said her name is Sarah that guy shouted "WHERE'S TIA AND TONY?!" Then he continued on with his commentary AT THIS LEVEL OF VOLUME.

I could hear the people behind my bro and I shifting uncomfortably in their seats. I could feel my tolerance level growing weaker and weaker. Finally, I just couldn't take it anymore. I walked over to him, knelt down behind him and said, "listen, we'd all really appreciate it if you would please whisper...as you're being loud enough for everyone to hear." He stared at me blank-faced and I added, "thanks we'd appreciate it."

After I sat back down, he screamed, "THERE ARE SEATS FARTHER BACK!" To which I said, "thank you, but I like this seat. Just, please, keep it down thanks."

The people behind me made the comment I was thinking. "What the Hell?!"


Shortly after that, the bro and I cracked a laugh at a funny scene and that guy yells, "YOU'RE LAUGHING TOO LOUD" to which the bro replies, "yeah, that's mature." Then that guy threw a few pieces of popcorn at the bro and I. I shit you not.

But finally, and not a moment too soon, he quieted down and we didn't hear from him again. I think he knew that one more outburst like that and we would have gotten security.


The kicker for me is what the hell kind of an example is that to set for your kids, niece, nephew, etc.? Sometimes, I do not understand people at all.

Have you had experiences like this? Share in comments!

I'm not crazy! I'm writing a book! (Okay... that sounds crazy)

Today was one of those days that makes a girl question everything she's doing with her life. It started out okay. By "okay" I mean, "I got up and made it to work without too much trouble and enjoyed my daily granola bar and yogurt." However, somewhere just after lunch, but before leaving work things just took a nose dive - like a seagull after Doritos crumbs.


Post work I began thinking about the meaning of life. What drives me. What I care about. What motivates me. I called a couple of people to bounce some ideas off and was met with concern. I can't really be to forward with the details, but it boiled down to while they're happy I'm spending so much energy on my book they're not really sure it's the right place for me to be spending my energy on.


Ouch.


Here's the thing though. I don't care. For the first time in my life, ever, I'm in charge of my future. My book will live or die based entirely on how good my idea was and how well I wrote it. No amount of advertising from some hotshot NYC agency will make my book a success--because for said agency to have anything to work with I have to write it.

For me, what's even more thrilling is writing my book has done something for me that nothing else could. It's shown me that I am funny. I am creative. I am smart. I am fully of wit. I always believed I had a little of those things, but up until now I was never more convinced of its truth. And that has given me hope.

Never more than right. this. minute. have I fully committed myself to something. Never before have I been so passionate about a dream--my dream. Never before have I believed in myself and the thing I doing. Never before have I been so sure of its success.


It's a crazy idea but my extra time is going to be spent on me. I'm going to invest my time in myself and in what I believe is the right thing to do. I think spending my time trying to do something else or be someone else for someone else is utter insanity.


I don't care what anyone else thinks. I don't care if they think I am being stubborn, unrealistic, or some other negative connotative adjective--my book makes me happy. My book gives me joy. Writing it is an adventure; a wild and crazy adventure, like riding a house on a cyclone--but I'm confident that I'll land somewhere over the rainbow and when it's finished it'll come alive in bright Technicolor.


Today's word is debouch...because I will!