Remember yesterday, when I said a bunch of women getting together gave me hives? Last night I got together with some women and we went to the movies. The best part about me is my consistency. I'm am very chalky.
Gone With the Wind was playing at the old movie theater I like, and if you've read this blog for awhile you know that me going to see GWTW is a rarity. As is my going to see GWTW and being annoyed with Ashley.
I went with one of the Alexes and one of the Amys from work. This was Amy's camera, and you can see it's a fine one. It's the Brandy of cameras. I say camera, you're a fine camera. What a good wife you would be. But my life, my love and my lady is hating Ashley.
Do do DO do...
We decided to play a GWTW drinking game, and how irritated are you that I keep calling it GWTW? I'm like people who call American Idol "Idol." Like they're good friends with the show. The point is, here.
Amy decided to drink her water, yes, whenever Scarlett burst into tears and also any time Scarlett slapped someone, including the horse. Alex went with Mammy's disapproving glare. "I say we have a group drink every time Ashley looks like a fop!" I announced.
I decided to go for any time Scarlett fake swore, like saying, "fiddle-dee-dee" when what she really meant is go fuck your mother.
In case you wanted to throw your own GWTW bash, I highly suggest you take a group drink any time Scarlett is over in a corner lusting inappropriately for Ashley. That happens every 14 seconds. You will be julep tanked.
"You know what you would hate?" asked NedRhett, when I got home. He was sitting on our porch with the candles lit. "You'd hate a mint julep, is what you'd hate. Do you know what's in it?"
I kind of figured a mint julep had mint, exaggerated politeness, humidity and pollen. Am I wrong? I thought it was the drink of the South.
Apparently it's just a big glass of fancy whiskey with some sugar. Give me some sugar.
Anyway, it was good to see my old movie. The fiddle-dee-dee film broke THREE TIMES, and Dear Carolina Theater: You better fix that shit. This is the third movie in a row this has happened. The point is, I missed my favorite part, where Mammy says Scarlett will be in Atlanta waiting for Mr. Ashley just like a spider. Oh, the way she says is tickles me so. Mammy is great. I so need a Mammy. I need someone to tell me to eat more. And bring me trays with pancakes.
It occurs to me I am the age of Aunt Pittypat now. God's nightgown. I may faint.
Talk to you tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day.