A long time ago, I posted about my love for movie (and TV) quotes, so I thought I'd list a few of the quotes that Kyle and I use so often we can barely even distinguish them from our actual language.

In fact, it's only when a stranger is around to ask "What does that mean?" that we even notice we are doing it.

Here's a quick decoder:

1. What We Say: "I'm going with Jerk Store!!!!" What We Mean: "Don't sully my artistic vision."

2. What We Say: "I celebrate Julianne Moore's entire catalogue." What We Mean: "I like Julianne Moore."

3. What We Say: "That's gold, Jerry, gold!" What We Mean: "That's freaking funny."

4. What We Say: "Some foolish carpenter parked in my spot!" What We Mean: "Some idiot took my spot."

5. What We Say: "Brought you a little snack, Eckart." What We Mean: "Check this out."

6. What We Say: "I feel very... confused and titillated." What We Mean: "What the *&!@ is that?"


Can anyone name all the movies/shows?

My only recent genius quote was way back at Christmas when Owen got some annoying light up/musical toy. I said "I like the glow. It's red like our Krypton sun. But not this irritating noise." I was pretty amused, but nobody else got it :(.

I just had the most amazing experience at Popeye's.

I took the kids there for lunch to get them out of Kyle's way and the restaurant was pretty much empty at 10:45 except for this woman who was ordering in an incredibly loud smoker's voice and discussing each item on the menu at length.

It was clear that this woman loved the whole Popeye's experience.

She was pacing back and forth in front of the counter and waving her arms like a grandstanding magician- or like Harold Hill telling the citizens of River City that they have TROUBLE- just insert words like "leg and a thigh" "hot and spicy" "side of beans and rice" , and "4.95??? No way!" into the libretto and you'd have it.

At last she informed the cashier, Israel, that he had a beautiful name, took and bow and stepped to the left.

I was so floored by her performance that I could hardly speak to Israel, who was waiting patiently for my order. I mean, how do you follow something like that? I actually thought she might be a method actress, and that the whole thing was research for a role she was playing.

This was ruled out a moment later when she revealed that she was actually just crazy.

First, she told me she loves little boys, which sounded a little creepy coming from her. Then she tried to give them her $2 in change (which I was confused by because she was so concerned about the price of everything that I had figured she didn't have enough cash). When I refused, she dug out two quarters and kept trying to force Stewart to take one. "Here!" she insisted, holding it under his nose.

I didn't know how to explain to her that A) the boys have no concept of what money is, and B) what the hell is an 8 month old going to do with a quarter other than put it in his mouth and choke on it?

So I just said thank you and slipped it away from Stew as soon as possible. I was terrified that she was going to sit in the restaurant near us and I'd have to make small talk with her that would eventually culminate in her making a horrifying offer to babysit, but luckily she left.

She got into a pretty nice car, but of course it wasn't parked in the lot. She had just pulled it up directly in front of Popeye's, blocking traffic to the rest of the shopping center even though there were plenty of empty spaces. In addition, the car was half up on the curb, skewing crazily like a ship lured into the rocks by the siren song of popcorn chicken.

In other news, Popeye's is now advertising their "naked" chicken as "low CARB." I never thought I'd see the day when people would be stupid enough to believe that fried chicken is health food.

Dave, avoid Popeye's unless you want to rage.

I just saw the most disturbing commercial. It was for Lysol kitchen wipes, and at the beginning, you hear all the germs on this woman's countertop talking to each other. Then she pulls out a Lysol germ-killing wipe and wipes the counter while the germs scream in pain and agony. I'm not kidding at all.

For some reason I just remembered my brother and I's version of "playing doctor." It was called "Take Apart the Captain" and it consisted of one party slowly and painfully dismembering the other.

"Sorry, Captain, I'm going to have to cut off your leg."

"No no, please don't cut off my leg."

"Sorry, I have to cut it off. Here's my circle saw. BRRRRRR."

"Ouch, please, God, the PAIN!"

All of our body parts would be amputated one by one until we were "just a big vagina running around" (or a big penis)- at which point we would laugh hysterically, switch roles, and do it all over again.

MEANEST CONVERSATION EVER:

DAVE: Our neighbor has road face.
SARAH: Dare I ask what that means?
CONNIE: It means she looks like she was dragged through gravel.
DAVE: It looks like someone came to a full stop on her face.
CONNIE: Trust me, if you saw her you'd know what "road face" means.
DAVE: Plus, every time I see her her hair is wet and it drips down onto her nasty tank tops and makes them wet, which reveals that she isn't wearing a bra.
JEFF: Oh, I saw her. She is God-forsaken....and her hair was wet!!!!

Looking at my wardrobe this morning, I found myself thinking that it was all very inappropriate for my age.

Let's face it, I may look like I'm 16 (I did get carded for Kill Bill Vol. 2, which I can tell you was pretty embarrassing), but I'm not.

I realized that aside from maternity clothes and a handful of Old Navy tees, I haven't purchased anything new in the last five to six years.

My sister-in-law Joanna has given me plenty of cast-offs (kind of depressing, because she lost a lot of weight and they were her "fat" clothes and they fit me perfectly, but not as depressing as when my cousin Steph gave me a pair of shorts that she called "loose and comfortable for after pregnancy" and I couldn't even zip the fly) but she is a few years younger than me so they are all youthful as well.

I know it doesn't really matter what I wear because I have no job. But I still feel kind of weird pushing my stroller around in tight jeans and a tiny T-shirt with a sparkly Rainbow Brite iron-on.

Sitting on the floor with Krycek at my feet and Owen and Stewart crawling all over me, I realized that I will never be this popular again.

I mean, seriously, if I was in one of those date auction things and Owen and Stewart and Krycek could bid on an evening alone with me (this is assuming of course that a dog, a baby and a toddler are allowed to place bids and that they actually have money to bid with) then I would make the MOST money for the Elizabeth Glazier Pediatric AIDS Foundation.

I had a dream last night about Danielle Johnson- this completely random girl I went to high school with who was neither an enemy nor a friend- just a total nothing in my life. I was speaking on the phone with her about something.

Isn't it weird the people your brain pulls out while you sleep? I remember I once had a dream that Kelly Cross, the mother of one of the boys who lived on my street, came out of her house and screamed at me because a rocket crash landed in her driveway.

Again- totally random person who I've barely spoken to and more and less never thought about.

So I started thinking about Danielle Johnson. She was one of those girls that everyone said was "cute" because she talked like a baby- I assumed it was an act, but now that I'm older I give her credit for probably just being a nice person.

Then I started thinking about Melissa Johnson (I don't think they're related), another girl from high school who was very sweet and had a little baby voice and I remembered the most hilarious thing that happened when we were on a choir field trip.

Mike Anaya was always a sucker for Melissa because she was so pretty and sweet and he wanted her to sit next to him at the concert we were attending.

She decided to sit behind him instead, with Carly Walker- but unwarily left her coat next to Mike. He pulled her asthma inhaler out of the pocket and boldly threatened to lick it if she didn't sit with him.

That may sound a little bizarre, but if you know Mike, it's right up his alley.

Melissa didn't think Mike would actually lick her inhaler- I mean, she has to put it in her mouth. How disgusting! So she just turned on that sweet charm that made Mike want to sit with her in the first place. I can still hear her little baby voice "No Mike, don't."

Well, me and Katie and Mary (two of my best friends who were also close with Mike) heard the whole thing, and we turned on him so fast it'd make your head spin.

"MIKE!" We yelled. "You'd better lick that inhaler!!!"

Why?

A- We had a love-hate relationship with Melissa Johnson. She was beautiful, smart, talented and perky- combine that with the baby voice and she was ripe for hatred. But we all had to grudgingly admit that her sweetness was not in any way an act- she was the real thing, never an unkind word to say about anyone. Which in a way made us hate her more simply because we knew we couldn't really hate her.

B- I can't even begin to describe the indignities we went through as close friends of Mike Anaya. You know in Dumb and Dumber, how Lauren Holly cutely throws a snowball at Jeff Daniels and he reciprocates by viciously attacking her and rubbing snow in her face? That sums up being friends with Mike. When Katie came to school looking cute in a new pair of jeans, Mike grabbed her by the arms, yelled "You cheap and dirty whore!" into her face, and threw her across the marching band field, totally reducing her dignity as flag captain in front of the freshmen she was supposed to command, and ruining the jeans in the process. He wrote all over my face with black permanent marker one day after play practice- and not in a slumber party way, like I fell asleep and deserve to be painted all over while a bunch of tittering girls look on- but in a pin me to the ground with his entire body and dig the marker into my flesh to make sure it REALLY won't wash off way. But Mary had the best story, which she always brought out after a couple of minutes of Mike Anaya war story one-upmanship- I don't remember the entire tale, but it ended with him pinning her to the ground (as in so many Mike stories) and spitting into her mouth. And the thing about Mike is that no amount of begging and pleading will get him to veer from his course of action and no amount of anger on your part afterward will bring him to apologize. If he decided against licking Melissa's inhaler, after blatantly WARNING her of his intention, it would clearly demonstrate that he respected her far more than he respected us, who were supposedly his best friends. Sure, in our heart of hearts we knew that Melissa DESERVED more respect than us, but that just fueled the flames of our rage.

So- here we were at this choir concert, ironically bringing ourselves lower than Mike had EVER brought us by chanting "Do it! Do it!" as poor little Melissa continued to beg. "Mike... please..."

"Mike!" I yelled. "If she doesn't sit with you and you don't lick that inhaler our friendship is over!" (which doesn't sound as bad as it really was, considering that Mike "ends" friendships or threatens to probably a hundred times a day).

For about fifteen minutes, they pleaded with each other- "Melissa, I don't want to do it. Please just come sit with me."
"Mike, no...please don't do it."

Meanwhile, the three of us looked on like cats at a mousehole waiting for the inevitable moment when that sweet girl's inhaler would be saliva'ed. The fact that Mike pleaded with her for fifteen minutes should have told us all we needed to know about who Mike respected more- let's be honest. If I had been in her position, the very minute I'd moved he'd have had that inhaler in more disgusting places than I could probably imagine.

But we continued to cheer on the lickin', while the rest of the choir looked at us from on high. "God, how immature can you get?" I heard someone say.

But our only response came from Mary, who yelled- "And a REAL lick- no fair just touching it with your tongue, you've gotta really french it!"

And finally, with a last "Melissa, I'm sorry," - he licked it. And, as per Mary's request, it was every bit as nasty a lick as he would have given to something of mine or Katie's or hers.

Our lust for blood finally satisfied, we quieted- but were still angry inside because we knew it didn't mean anything- Mike actually felt BAD about defacing Melissa's things. Just because we forced him into it didn't mean that he respected her any less or us any more. Melissa was mad about her licked inhaler. Carly and the others were mad at Mike for doing the licking and even more mad at us for cheering him on. So everyone was kind of subdued for the rest of the night after that.

Awesome.

New photos.

Amy Ultch came down this week to hang out and celebrate her freedom from The Garden Terrace, this horrible restaurant where she worked for two bitter lesbians named... wait for it... PAT and GAY. Seriously. I mean, can you think of better names for them?

She is trying to find another waitressing job to subsidize school payments and interviewed at Chili's and Red Lobster.

We had a huge discussion about how in the Midwest, Red Lobster is the shiznit b/c it's the only place for decent seafood, whereas here, near the sea where you can get actual seafood, Red Lobster is no more glamorous than Ponderosa.

Whenever I think of Ponderosa, I nearly gag on the memory of the nastiest, dirtiest buffet I have ever seen.

I specifically remember the sundae bar with drips of dried, stringy chocolate sauce everywhere, sprinkles hither and yon, and melty gummy bears. The coup de grace was the gigantic scoop of chocolate/vanilla swirl ice cream slowly melting in the oreo cookie bits.

Ugh.

Kyle got the Northern Exposure season 1 dvd. I never watched the show when it was on, but I have to say that I am enjoying it. Even though every time I say "northern exposure" I can't help but think of Ludicris- "southern hoe-spitality, northern ex-hoe-sure..."

Ludicris is so gold.

We also watched half of Bubba Ho-Tep- it was just getting good with a terribly fake looking scarab beetle but we were so tired we couldn't keep our eyes open any longer.

I should just keep a list of movies I fell asleep during. Pretty much every movie in the world would be on it, except for Return of the King and Kill Bill, which are the only really great movies I've seen recently.

We watched the original Stepford Wives, too, so we'd be prepared for the new one. I of course fell asleep, but was interested enough to watch the rest the following day rather than just ask Kyle, "wha' happened?"

I thought the ending was dumb- I would much rather have seen the chick put into a locked room with her robot self and kick its ass, then go on a rampage to save her kids.

Plus she wears the most sickening outfits, like stomach-baring tube tops that no mother of two would actually be able to wear.

But I enjoyed it.

Speaking of Michael Moore and politics, I too (like Britt) saw Head of State.

I thought it was okay- but what interested me is that the movie had two quotes which put a finger on what I think are the major weaknesses of both political parties.

REPUBLICANS: The slogan for the Evil Republican's campaign was "God bless America... and no place else."

Perfect for conservatives who seem to think that we have right to destroy all of our own natural resources and those of the rest of the world so that Americans don't have to pay an additional ten cents a unit for energy or gas, or so we can still buy cheap useless consumer goods at low prices.

DEMOCRATS: Chris Rock, while debating the Evil Republican, brings up gun control. Evil Republican suggests that on that issue, we "let the people decide." Chris Rock shoots back "The people can't decide! They're too busy gettin' their asses shot off!"

Pefect for liberals. They really don't want to let the people decide. They think they know better. They think that college educated urban-dwellers like themselves are more qualified to make decisions than the country bumpkins of rural America.

These are the people who contend that Bush "stole" the election as if the half of the country that voted for him just doesn't count.

Sigh.

If only there were SOMEONE to vote for this November that isn't a complete douchebag.

And sorry Ralph Nader. You are in fact a complete douchebag.

Hard to believe that Michael Moore's new movie would be so popular in France.

That was sarcasm, by the way.

We watched the trailer this morning and it looked interesting. I'll see it even though I hate that fat bastard.

This morning Kyle was watching Stewart and all of the sudden, Stew started crying.

I was listening from the front yard and heard him ask Stewart, in all seriousness, "What's wrong? Wha' happened?"

I just realized that my writing style is not suited to Blogger at all.

I'm no good at writing short posts.

When I was in elementary school and my teachers would ask for "short" stories and most of the kids had trouble writing the required page or two, I would always crank out at least ten to fifteen.

I guess I've always just had a lot to say.