i love being a turtle

Posted by on Dec 3, 2005 in Uncategorized | 0 comments

tonight we went shopping to pick up our christmas tree, as if it was sitting on a dock somewhere just waiting for us to go pick it up. instead of easily picking one out and trying to load it into our car, we were instead underwhelmed by the ugliness of the artificial trees. i know i am spoiled because my mother’s tree looks almost completely real but that my apartment ceiling is not quite as high as her home’s lofted ones and that a 9.5 foot tree would not fit here and that she bought it in january a few years back when trees get clearanced for 75% off. yes. yes, i know. BUT, i thought those rules did not apply to me. i thought my life was e.a.s.y. not so.

My mom and her beautiful tree

Garden Ridge is this store that is kind of like Hobby Lobby with less respectable clientele. The stuff was cheap. It looked cheap too. We bought wrapping paper (sorry wrapping paper snobs! I used to be one of you, but my poor little budget made you the enemy).

Home Depot was close so we popped in. They had about four trees and all looked more fake than my tan when we got married. We called my dad and got him to google our next place. Can I tell you that my dad is wonderful again? Are you tired of hearing it? Well, it is still true. The man was sitting through a movie with about 25 other people and he got up and went and google mapped our store. He’s always helping me with things that he probably never even remembers later, but they mean the world to me.

Hobby Lobby was like being home. Familiar music. Familiar smells. Familiar fake flowers. Familiar trees that are all about 12 feet high and $600 — hyperbole, people! Anyway, we left dejected. A little tired. Not sweaty. (do you know what movie that’s from? do you?)

Our last stop for the night was Wal-Mart because we needed candy for a movie we were going to later and we even looked at trees there. By far they were the most pathetic, but also the cheapest, so, meh. While we were shopping a little (6 year old?) boy was sitting in a cart and I smiled at him and he sort of smiled back and sang “i love being a turtle.” and he sang it like he meant it.

We did buy Junior Mints and those make me very happy, so all of the tree hunting and failing, it just got wiped away when my booty was sitting in the theatre and i popped in a junior mint. mmmm.

we saw walk the line again. Again! We saw it six days ago and then we saw it again tonight. i guess we love johnny cash. a friend of our friends bought our tickets (unbelievably and wonderfully benevolent…much thanks to him) making the movie that much more enjoyable. people, you must see it. you will at least like, if not love. i’m sure i love. after you see it, you should watch the video for Hurt – the NIN song Johnny covered a few years back. So good.

i don’t have adhd or anything, but when people talk during movies it just gets under my skin and it’s all i can hear and my blood starts to boil and i kind of loose it. i’m usually fairly self controlled, but there is nothing like some guy sitting behind me asking his wife “who’s that?” “what’d he say?” “who died first?” and making all sorts of comments to turn me into the junior higher who feared no confrontation and eagerly awaited standing up to my own personal Goliath. Luckily he knew to keep his trap shut at the most touching scenes and quieted down after i shushed him a few times.

in case you like talking in movies and i am offending you right now, here’s what you should know:
People have paid money (or at least their friends have) to watch a movie on a big screen. They did not pay to hear you give a running commentary or reveal your inability to follow the subtleties of american film making. so either come to the place where the big screen and projector are and shut your pie whole or wait for the video to come out, rent it and scream all sorts of ridiculous things at your television set in the privacy of your own home. because whatever you do there, is your own business and your children will just have to wait until they are 18 to run away from all of your annoying habits, but especially your lack of respect for the viewing pleasure of fellow movie goers. Trust me, the rest of the theatre is grateful.

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