Sunday, December 11, 2011


This afternoon a good friend and I met up for a movie date. For moms of little ones, is there any more delicious forbidden fruit than the taste of movie theater popcorn and candy? I wish someone had warned me that having a baby would pretty much signal the end of my movie going days. But, now that football = daddy/son bonding time, my Sunday afternoons are wide open. We discussed seeing the absurdly cheesy New Years Eve to finally set us in the holiday mood, but we both knew we'd regret it. After ruling out the Decendants for perhaps being a bit too depressing (though I have read it's a comedy, albeit a dark one), we decided to see Young Adult.

From the previews, I gathered this would be a snarky, funny commentary on the state of perpetual youth as told by a semi-successful, beautiful though pathetic woman, played by the awesome Charlize Theron. Whoa. Neither of us were prepared for how mean, uncomfortable and ultimately refreshing movie this would be. I literally spent the entire time in cringing in horror and vicarious embarrassment, wondering what the childish, narcissistic (depressive, alcoholic, mentally unstable...) protagonist might do next. While there were a few funny moments, it was much more a character study about one woman's spiral downward. Unlike most movies, there was no redemption in the end, no life's lessons learned. Instead there was just brutal honesty that some people suck and continue to suck no matter what they experience life or how many people they hurt. It certainly did not get us into the holiday spirit or lighten our moods, but it made me think and I'll take that over levity any day. I was so disturbed I couldn't even shop!

But, shop I must because I have just realized this week that I need to get a shitton of presents for folks. Mainly, for the people who are kind of enough to watch our precious bebe, drop off our mail, clean our house once in a while and take our dog on 3 hour hikes. Oh and apparently I have to give the woman who delivers the Sunday NYT a gift as evidenced by the self-addressed stamped envelope that has been delivered with the paper for the past three weeks. Presumptuous? Definitely. Effective? Probably.

In other news, it looks like bibs are now officially off the table.

Good times

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