Twelve. That is how many meals Edsel had in this house before he stopped automatically running to the spot where I USED to put his dish. Twelve. Times. I should do a little experiment now, move Lu's dish and see how soon till she figures it out. I feel like me just thinking of doing that, and she's alert to it even in another room. do mom be theenking of mooving lu dish!?! Food is a very big thing with Tallulah.
edz smart in own way
No, you're not. Actually, that photo above was taken the morning I left my old house and moved into Kaye's for six weeks without him. Look at his face. He knows what's up. Edsel has EQ.
So, last night I went to my old movie theater--not that I own it, and if I did, I'd sure run it more efficiently. Because they showed The Princess Bride and as usual I got there at 6:57, which is usually plenty of time to go to the ticket booth, get my snacks, my ever-important snacks, and get up to the balcony while the organist is still playing or at least the guy is talking on stage about all the other movies coming up, a thing everyone in there knows already because we have the Internet.
This time I pulled into the parking lot and it was pretty full, and when I rounded the corner
MAN!
there was a line for tickets that went all the way down the block, like we were all going to see Jaws or something. Actually, I've seen Jaws at that old movie theater. The point is, I was annoyed, for a change. And the woman behind me was on the phone with her cousin, a cousin who broke up with her boyfriend this weekend. I got to hear all about it not just by having her scream her half of the conversation into my ear, but by her recap to her homosexual boyfriend after. I mean, she thinks that guy is her boyfriend, and Ima tell you what. He's not just being a gentleman about sex, honey. He's not. As an example, lest you think I'm judge-y, after her recap, her "boyfriend" said, "Dramaaaaaaa!"
Don't you wish you could just turn around in line, and tell people what you're thinking when you're eavesdropping on them?
We finally got to the front of the line, and it turns out one of their computers is down, and let me tell you what. That old theater needs to update their ticket software, anyway. You know how you go to the airport, and you check in your bag, and that poor soul is up there click click clicking her machine, which nowadays we call a computer, and you have no idea why she has to type FOR FORTY-SEVEN MINUTES just to check your goddamn bag? It's just like that at this movie theater.
Seriously, WHAT IS SHE DOING? The poor ticket woman takes your card, asks if you're "a regular adult," and there is no more untrue answer than when I say yes to that each time, then she types. Looks at the screen. Types. Screen. Click click click, screen.
Then finally she hands you THREE TICKETS. One to sign, one's a receipt and one's your real ticket. It couldn't be less efficient unless they chiseled your ticket in stone like you're on The Flintstones.
When I finally got through the lobby and to the important snack bar, ANOTHER FUCKING HUGE LINE. It's like the line they have during It's a Wonderful Life, which is shown three times at that place each year, because they sell out. They had three volunteers up there selling you popcorn (of COURSE I wasn't willing to just go without. What are you, new?) and I heard one volunteer popcorn seller shout to his neighbor in line. "Hey, Kathy! Well, how you doin,' girl? How's every little thing? Did you hear the Browns are...?"
See, this is when being in the South pisses me off. You got six million people waiting in a line and you have to kibbitz with your neighbor, who YOU'LL SEE WHEN YOU GET HOME. And because it's the South, everyone just smiles serenely and lets it happen. I should move to New York, where we'd be allowed to stab someone over that and still get to see the movie.
By the time I got in there to my seat in the balcony, Colombo was already reading to Wonder Years, but I didn't miss much. At least I got to hear Andre the Giant rhyming with Inigo Montoya.
Inigo Montoya: That Vizzini, he can fuss.
Fezzik: I think he likes to scream at us.
Inigo Montoya: Probably he means no harm.
Fezzik: He’s really very short on charm.
Inigo Montoya: You have a great gift for rhyme.
Fezzik: Yes, yes, some of the time.
Vizzini: Enough of that.
Inigo Montoya: Fezzik, are there rocks ahead?
Fezzik: If there are, we all be dead.
Vizzini: No more rhymes now, I mean it.
Fezzik: Anybody want a peanut?
Oh, it was fun, once I was in there and established with my popcorn and so on. We all said, "Inconceivable!" every time Vizzini said it. And of course we all said, "My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die." The whole theater said it! Except for Kathy, who was still at the concession stand with the popcorn seller. Oh, it was great. I'm glad I soldiered on and went to the movie despite this cold.
I put this picture on Facebook last night, because this was my reality when I got home. I can't imagine why my back hurts all the time. I keep saying, "This is the LAST NIGHT these animals sleep with me" and then I feel bad for them all over again. I wish I could just take one a night. But then you have three miffed pets on the other side of the door.
I will talk at you tomorrow. Oh, do you want to see how I'm doing on boxes so far? Hang on.
Oh my GOD.
Overwhelmedly,
June
