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Regarding yesterday's entry, where I said that George being affectionate was "not his typical sleepy-time behavior", I think that came out wrong. What I meant was: we are both very 'do NOT touch me when I'm sleeping' people. He has HIS side of the bed and I have MINE and never the twain shall meet for sleepy-time. Also, I am a very angry sleeper. Anything that wakes me up before my pre-determined time? Ooooooh...not good. I'm amazed I still have people around me what with my Snotty McBitchy behavior when I'm sleepy.
Also regarding yesterday's entry: my friend K. called me last night (after reading my entry) to inform me that today's show is sponsored by the word: GARGANTUAN! This pleases me, because with over 50 books scattered around my bedroom alone, my thesaurus has either been lost among the chaos or is missing altogether and, well, I'm just not ready to let this GO. So thanks K!
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As I mentioned yesterday, I was watching 9 to 5. And, as always, my OCD came into play. I have two silly OCD habits (at the very least) that I am unable to resist when watching movies. George, gem that he is, puts up with them without a word. Well...maybe not completely without a word, but he's not mean about it.
Anyway, the habits. The first is that, at some point during the movie, I have an overwhelming need to know what year the film was made. It's not like I can't watch a movie without knowing this, truly. But something will be said or done, something unique or sexist or mildly racist; a funky outfit or scene design; a goofy hair-do...anything, and I will simply HAVE to know what year it was that influenced such decisions in filmmaking.
I also play a game with myself where, before I ask George to hit the info button that will answer my 'year' question, I try to guess the year first. Oh, but it doesn't end there. If I'm right? Or within a few years of my guess? I congratulate myself mightily and make sure everyone within earshot knows that I was correct in my guess. It's so dumb. And yet...much like my "MooCow!" ...problem? I cannot resist it.
The other habit is that I frequently am not satisfied merely knowing what year it was made. Of COURSE I'm not. So, for any number of reasons, I will also need to go a step beyond the aforementioned craziness and run to IMDb to look up the movie in question and browse things like the director, writer, actors and actresses, review the message boards, etc. It's a sickness, I know, but sometimes you have to satisfy the urge. For instance, if there's a voice-over being done, or it's an animated film and the actors aren't visible? I cannot relax and enjoy the movie until I have figured out whose voice belongs to which character. I am VERY good at this game, both in movies AND commercials (as though it matters) and then, regardless of whether someone has disagreed with my contention(s), I look it up anyway, just to confirm it. Yes, sometimes just for myself.
No, I do NOT take medication for this.
Perhaps I should....
So anyway, while watching 9 to 5, I of COURSE had to know something while watching the movie. I had to. I couldn't wait until the end of the movie, because it would have driven me bonkers, I would have missed much of the dialog, etc., etc., ad psychotic-eum. In this particular instance, I simply HAD to know the make and model of Violet's car. I am a muscle-car freak. Well...a mild one, anyway, because if I were a TRUE freak? I wouldn't have to guess at some of the cars (and I wouldn't be forever incorrectly calling some cars Chargers) but I do have an inexplicable love for cars from the '60s and '70s and, especially, muscle-cars. Is it the look? The speed? The size? I honestly have NO idea what or why. And I choose not to explore it; I just accept it (as should you).
So I paused the movie and pulled up the IMDb site's page for 9 to 5 just to satisfy my need to see what kind of car Violet was driving. It was such a cool-looking car (aside from the hideous powder-blue color) and I found the answer to the car question (it was a '69 Buick Skylark, for those playing along), but I couldn't just leave it at that. Duh. I had to browse through some of the other messages, as well, because I get a kick out of reading people's opinions and the things they notice within the movies (goofs, spoilers, metaphors, etc.) and while I enjoy that part, I am always surprised to find myself once again shocked at the lack of intelligence of some people.
This was just such an occasion. Someone on the IMDb board (who refers to herself as "Dollyparton1fan") gave herself the following signature line, without a hint of irony:
"I know more then you. Just get over it!"
Heh. Ignorance may be bliss...but mostly just for GRACIE.
PS: If you have NO idea why that's funny? Perhaps THESE products aren't for you.
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Speaking of 'PS'...
I want you to know that I am well aware that I'm not perfect (though, let's be honest, I'm puuuuh-RETTY damned close!)
To illustrate my imperfection: just last night, I learned that I'd been doing something incorrectly for years...decades even. Apparently when you are inserting a postscript (PS) at the end of a letter, you are not supposed to use periods between the letters (like so: P.S.). Apparently, since postscript is now one word, the periods are now obsolete. I checked (waaaayyy too many to be considered healthy) other sources, and all seem to agree.
Huh.
See? Karma's QUICK in my life!
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Aaaaand, just to be sure that all of you realize that my marriage isn't one-sided; that it isn't just George lovingly (and smart-ass-ily) putting up with MY craziness, and that I, too, put up with puh-LENTY?
He's about to make me watch Flesh Gordon.
No, no, not FLASH Gordon, nope. That particular torture took place 2 weeks ago. And I only recently recovered from THAT. Today, my terror arrived in the form of the red Netflix envelope and, to pay me back for making HIM watch Streets of Fire and Flight of the Navigator over the weekend? He ordered.... FLESH Gordon.
Dear God. The summary on the DVD sleeve alone gave me brain cramps.
If I survive this hell, I'll let you know how it went.
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Someone Arrived Here Searching For:
optical doctors
26 [I just do NOT understand what people hope to find when they type a number into a search engine.]
my bunny
is done
freakin' fries stupid video [and this, children, is how we display: Hostility. Can you say hostility? Sure ya can!]
sexy sentences
dog pusy [sigh]
shaun cassidy orgasm [oh, my. um. well. oh, my.]
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