The Devil Keeps Making Me Do It

If by Devil, I mean June Cleaver After A Six Pack.

I've never been so happy with such a bad influence! Keep it' coming, June! Oh, how I wish we were neighbors. How I wish you and yours were my neighbors instead of the weirdo guy with the yappy dogs.

I love June's blog. And today I was especially stoked because she posted not only all sorts of naughty-thought-inducing pictures of Yes-I'm-Legal-Robert, but the trailer of New Moon, as well.

I'm suddenly believing that being a giggly, simpering 12-year-old is a good thing.

However, that said, I've also come across this video:





Please Robert and the rest of the cast... please just stand around and look pretty. Please don't ruin it by talking. Got that? No more talking. Robert, shirt off anytime. But do not make me acknowledge the reality that you are actually just a goofy actor who was blessed with beyond-deserved genes. Just keep your mouth shut, Robert.

Unless, of course, you're....

Oh, never mind.

A Long Walk For A Short Beer

Can I just preface this post with mad props to Darcy at LWM3B? She read about my Netflix snafu and kindly and generously offered me a 24-hour movie rental from Amazon.com. This allowed me to 1.) see Twilight for free 2.) see it sooner than I would have otherwise and 3.) bump Charlotte's Web up to the top spot in my queue (the 1970's version with Paul Lynde as Templeton, 'cause I roll in the old skule way). So a million thank-you's to Darcy!!


Now, let's get to work.




In no particular order:




Wow. I need to move to Hollywood. I cannot act. I cannot direct. I cannot write. There seems to be plenty of work!! A few suggestions for New Moon? A few extra bucks in the budget for acting lessons, please? Pretty, pretty please? Honestly, Robert... were you that bad in Harry Potter? I have to go back and check now. And I hear-tell that it's a different director for New Moon, so perhaps we can lose the high-school-production awkwardness?

If you watch this on the computer, turn off the sound. Put the window with the movie in it up into the corner of the screen. It's a much better movie that way. Very pretty to look at without all of that painful talking coming out of these characters.



You know how sometimes your kids do an art project with glitter? And that bits of glitter can show up in weird places after that? If I see any bit of glitter on Urban Dad, I will scream, race to him, jump on him and smack it off of him.




Cool music. When can I buy one track at a time from iTunes instead of the whole freakin' album?


Also, the scene when Edward & Bella are going up the stairs of the house... what is that painting on the wall? That is what I want to know after seeing this movie. And yes, I am showing my age here by wanting to know this so badly. And no Google search gives me an answer. Someone? Anyone? I loved that painting......





Now let's look at a few characters in particular, shall we?



Chief Swan. My favorite! I think I know why... he hates Edward! And I love to hate Edward. Or hate to love him. Or hate myself for having the hots for him and realizing that I could be his, errrrr, Godmother. Yeah, Godmother. Or maybe it's because Billy Burke was one of the few people in this movie not shooting for the William Shatner Over-Acting Award. Pink Power Ranger wasn't crazy about him -- she seems to think that the Cop Dad Cleaning His Gun As The Suitor Arrives thing is a bit old. But I loved it. Take note Robert and Kristen -- Less Is More.

And besides, look at him in real-life.


He could clean his gun in my kitchen anytime. Extra bonus? He's been (legally) buying his own alcohol for a while now. Longer than me, even.


Jasper. What? Are you going to see The Wizard in the hopes of receiving a brain? Who approved this look for you? Frankly, you weird me out a bit. You look less like a white-knuckling-it vampire than someone who's just, well, kinda nuts.
Alice & Emmett:

Just as I pictured them. Needless to say, strokes of genius on the parts of the casting and makeup people.

Stephenie Meyer: Nice cameo! Very Fenoglio in Inkspell (which I am currently reading). Yep, you get it all here at Urban Mom -- movie reviews, comparative literature. I'm a woman of many talents. (and of many Google searches)

OMG, wait! Is she at a computer? As in writing?! Quick! Someone take it from her! Take away that computer before she strikes again! Honestly, that's the scariest thing in this movie.

Carlisle:
You kept reminding me of someone. Someone I had seen in another movie. Where else had I heard such badly written sage reminders so badly delivered? Then it hit me!Gary Cole as Mike Brady in The Brady Bunch Movies! Except, I think that he was doing it intentionally. Yeah, he meant to be funny. Is that what you were going for too, Carlisle???





Renee:
I don't know why, but I kept expecting Jack Bauer to pop out of nowhere and shoot her.


Rosalie:

Again, just as I imagined Rosalie. I like her. Yeah, she's a beeeyotch and a half, but you know exactly where you stand with her. No fakey fake to your face and then talking smack about you when you leave the room. She'll talk smack about you right there. No need for Edward to read her mind. She'll speak it for you and for anyone else in the room. I find that weirdly refreshing and hope that she gets more lines in the future.

'Cause you know that I'll just end up going to see this.

In the theater this time. Tagging along behind a bunch of middle-school girls so that it looks like I'm chaperoning them. When really, the reverse could just as easily be true.


Until then, closing the book on this topic for a while!

June Cleaver, Can I Come Over & Watch With You?

Good God, my left leg for a laptop computer!

We've had guests. And the (stupid desktop) computer is in the guest "suite." So my computer time is limited to running down when no one is around, popping on the computer, waiting 90 minutes for everything to load up or boot up or throw up or whatever, checking Facebook, e-mail and the library websites, then shutting it all up or down or whatever. First it was Best Namma Ever!; now it's BIL #2 and his two kids. But they and Urban Dad and U-Kid 1 are at a family wedding now. U-Kid 2 and I are at home -- I wouldn't take a 2yo to my best friend's wedding, let alone some poor soul I've yet to meet. The littlest angel is napping just now, so finally, computer time!

Here's the news:

We had some of this:

This changed names from the Sears Tower to The Willis Tower. Yes, as in WhatYouTalkin'About. U-Kid 1 refuses to accept it. My daddy told me that it's the Sears Tower, so it's The Sears Tower!!! Ok, kid. Go chat with Daddy about that, then.

And Netflix messed me up. You see, I got six months from Pink Power Ranger for Christmas. All I wanted was the cheapie subscription -- $4.99 a month for two discs a month, one disc at a time. I watch too much tv as it is, so I figured that was reasonable. And what I really wanted was to catch up with my TV Boyfriend, who had disappeared from American television.

And you know what released today, right? Because you do not live under a rock.

So I had it at the top of my queue. With the words "Releases on March 21st" next to it. And I, being new to Netflix, sent back my previous disc. And I was getting grumpy with my TV Boyfriend, anyway. Turns out that his series disappearing from American tv was no great loss for this particular season.

I assumed, being new to Netflix, that I would wait a week or two for my "Releases on March 21st" disc to arrive at my doorstep in its pretty, red envelope.

Guess what? That is not how Netflix works! Those Banshees of Efficiency send you the next disc on your queue, as in the one listed just underneath the Not-Yet-Released Disc! In my case, it was another round of my About-To-Be-Kicked-To-The-Curb-TV Boyfriend. Being new to Netflix, I did not know this. Being new to Netflix, if I did know this, I would have waited until March 20th to send back my now-grumble-inducing TV Boyfriend. Because he is who ended up on my doorstep in a pretty, red envelope rather than my Way-Too-Young-For-Me-In-Real-Life Eye Candy. Now all I have staring at me at the top of my Netflix queue is the phrase, "You have no more movie rentals remaining for this period. Your next period begins on 03/29/2009."

Ugh.

That means I wait until 03/30/2009. Nine days. Yes, I know that I could walk into my local Blockbuster and get it. But that would require that I hire a 12yo girl to go in with me as my front. If I can hold out nine more days, I'll get him the movie for free.

So in the meantime, I will continue to check in with my Cyber-Enabler, June Cleaver A6P. I will use my birthday present from her to tide me over. Which would you rather be -- the gunk under his thumbnail or whomever is getting that look? I go back and forth.

Plus this, which she posted today. (i'm giving you props, June! not just stealing it! keep loving me??)

I call this the "Urban Mom, can you give me just a minute to lie here and rest? June has exhausted me for the moment. I promise, I'll be with you in just a minute or two."

Or nine days.

The Devil Made Me Do It, 3rd & Final Installment

I finished this book about a week ago, but am only getting around to admitting it writing about it now. From the mouth of one of Stephenie Meyer's own characters:

"Where is this psycho crap coming from? Are you making this up as you go?" (Jacob Black, Breaking Dawn, p182)

I want to be dismissive. I want to be callous and haughty and condescending and above-it-all. But the fact is that I came this far, so that position is wearing thin, don'tcha think? And secondly, well, I had fun.

Edward, the "tortured soul" routine is wearing a groove, ok? I. Get. It. Already.

But what the heck. You can be counted on to man-up when the occasion calls for it.


Oh, and I guess that you are not gay afterall (notthatthere'sanythingwrongwiththat!). By the way, my headboard and pillows are entirely too much intact. Help a girl out with that?

I mean, ummmm, good for you for making the phrase "bite me" a delicious invitation rather than an insult.

Bella, finally! Finally! Finally! You contribute something to the party! I hate you for having the island vacation that no woman will ever have. But at least you ultimately were finally able to do a few things for your Vampiric Brady Bunch of friends, rather than always being the clutzy snack-bait who can be counted on for little more than causing everyone a whole pile of extra work. That got old. And fast.


Jacob... I can't decide what you are. Totally whipped? Glutton for punishment? Another obsessed stalker sort? Or loyal as a -- oh, nevermind -- too obvious. Also, well, errrrr, congratulations????


Stephenie, nice ending. It's all wrapped up with a pretty bow. I didn't feel the need to toss the book across the room and swear curses on you like I feared that I would. And if the spirit moves you, you even have the option to re-visit these characters, shake out the cobwebs, air them out and then find more trouble for them.


Ffffft. Like anyone would race out and buy books like that. (please don't, stephenie, please don't, i want my life back!!!!)


So while there were moments of "What? WHAT? Are you JOKING?," and more than a few instances of "i hate these people -- but-oh-my-god-what-happens-next?" the fact is that I had fun. Heaps and gobs of ridiculous, gooey, could-i be-a-more-of-a-chick, re-visiting-my-inner-12-year-old fun.


You would think that it would all be over now. On to the next time-suck! But no, guess what drops to DVD on March 21?

(I plan on using the portable DVD player with headphones, lest Urban Dad know what I'm watching.)

And then guess what comes along in November?
Hey Smook -- my friend, but really also my Twilight Enabler -- plan on carving out a few hours in November. You made getting into this all too easy. Now you have to go with me to see this thing!



And all of this said, I have to firmly and proudly stand my ground on one important point:



Long Live Buffy! (boy have i missed you these last few months!)

Updates; Plus The Devil Made Me Do It, Part 2

Updates on the doings around here:

1. Last Saturday, I spent the a.m. in the chair of Lee the Hair Whisperer, who set about making me the blonde that I was born to be (I swear! I was blonde until my late 20's!). I don't know who those dark roots belonged to, but it wasn't me.

2. I took Urban Kid 1 with me. And the portable DVD player. And headphones. Plus her:

This allowed for two straight hours of dishing, grown-up-chick style. Except for Winter, the U-Kids don't see that much TV, so U-Kid 1 thought this was some kind of delerious treat.

3. Urban Kid 2 has discovered her new best friend.
She keeps asking for "Dah!" Specifically, "Blue Dah!"

So if I'm trying to get U-Kid 1 to practice her piano or wrap her mind around math, I sometimes relent. I massage my guilt by setting the language to Spanish.

The only books U-Kid 2 wants are "Dah!" too. There are plenty left from when U-Kid 1 went through this phase.

When we went to Blockbuster in search of Mary Poppins, U-Kid 2 had... an episode. We came around the corner and there it was......... and entire rack, chock-full of..........her.

Imagine a two-year-old in a pink winter coat, jeans and black Merrills. Completely flipping out. Feet pumping up and down in unfiltered joy. And screaming as loudly as only a 2-year-old with no social filters can,

"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

For a moment, I expected nothing less than spontaneous combustion!

4. And finally, in the "here we go again" news:

Edward's back.

I saw my friend who comments here as "SMook" on Sunday. And she lent me the next three Twilight books. Lord help my children until I finally get these things finished and out of my system!

I have finished #2, New Moon. Tonight, I finished #3, Eclipse.

And, of course, I have a few thoughts. God forbid I leave any of them unexpressed.

Bella, honey, again with you. As a mother, I should be refreshed by Edward's restraint. But seriously, sweetheart. You have a dirty old man for a boyfriend who lives forever inside of a 17-year-old guy's body. Your dad has no idea that he spends the night in your room every night.

And you can't persuade him to start The Launch Sequence??? Are you kidding me?

C'mere, Bella. I have a few tips for you.

On second thought, get out of the way. I'll do it myself.

On the other hand, you have managed to be involved with two guys at the same time. No, not just two "guys." Two total Alpha Males. And The Deed never becomes part of the picture with either hormone-soaked dude? That are straight? And they know about each other, and even actually know each other? And they each wait ever so gallantly for you to make a decision? Yikes. You must have something going on.

Never mind, Bella. Maybe I need tips from you. 'Cause for anyone else, this would be a setup for a particulary bad reality tv show.

I'm off to read Breaking Dawn, the last and largest book. Seems that Stephenie Meyer has J.K. Rowling Syndrome... sold a bunch of books and now her editors can't reign her in. Luckily, I've been warned by a few friends that there are some twists that had them saying, "Really, Stephenie? Really? I was going along for the ride 'til now..., but REALLY?????"

Be prepared for our next brunch, SMook. We will analyze the life out of every ridiculous detail of these books. And at this pace, it will be sooner rather than later.

So all of that said................ how long til the DVD comes out?

The Devil Made Me Do It!

Ok, ladies and germs, I have a confession to make. After wondering what all the hype was about, especially after being lured in by my cyber-friend June Cleaver After A Six-Pack, I picked this up from the library on Friday, sometime around 3:30pm.
I had just finished What Is The What?, an excruciatingly intense story of one of the Lost Boys of Sudan and needed to do a 180-degree turn.

Careful what you wish for.

Can I just say that the most damning thing that can be told to a girl seems to be, "Edward Cullen is staring at you."
And before I go any further, June Cleaver, stay with me through this whole post and hear me out, sistah!

Now... let's get started.

First, Edward, darling. You are just over 100 years old. Quit hanging around the high school trying to pick up a 17-year-old girl from a broken home who's new in town, you dirty old man. And for that matter, lurking outside of said girl's bedroom window all night is grounds for getting shot by her police chief Dad. Stalking is creepy at any age. No wonder you're lurking around this girl's place. Any grown woman would have you slapped with a restraining order and would sleep with a Taser under her pillow.

That said, how about someone closer to your own age? You might be interested to know that a girl learns a few things over oh, say, twenty years that a dirty old man like you might enjoy.

But I digress.

Second, Bella. Listen, sweetie. Most importantly, if a guy tells you that he fell for you because of your smell.... uhhhh, yeah, can we really look at that one in the Bright Light of Normal? Also, we all like to think we can tame the Bad Boy, that that makes us special somehow.

But let me tell ya something, honey. You either won't or will get the job done. Neither works out well. And either way, you have to figure out how to lose the superhuman bloodthirsty guy outside of your bedroom window. And don't get me wrong. I get the whole thrill-of-dating-someone-I'm-not-supposed-to thing. Every gal does. But then something happens -- we grow up.

Now, Edward, if you would like to see what I keep under my pillow, well... no wait, go away, you creepy old man.....

Shame on me you.

Hey, I said stop doing that. You're distracting me. You bad, bad man.

Finally, Stephenie Meyer. Holy cow, dear. You struck paydirt. But how? You're no J.K. Rowling and you're certainly no Joss Whedon (oh Buffy, didn't we have fun?). Every character was a well-worn archtype. The plot was painfully predictable. You go pages and pages and pages of nothing happening, just talking. For God's sake, I get it! -- he's moody and broody and seething with sex and death -- get on with it already! And then when something does (finally!) happen, it's overwhelmingly obvious what exactly it will be. Cash those checks, my friend. Good on ya for sitting down at a typewriter in the first place and getting hit by this kind of publishing lightening. Just promise me one thing? When you finish this series, promise me that you will never again touch a keyboard of any kind. Don't even text-message.

That sweater looks itchy... want some help with that?

Oh, and one more thing Edward. If you so painfully want this girl, yet still manage to go through three more books without laying one single unchaste hand on her, you are not a vampire. You are gay. (notthatthere'sanythingwrongwiththat!)

Sigh.

Ok, then. A few more confessions. What the hell -- it's a fairly anonymous blog.

I got the book on Friday afternoon. I finished it on Sunday afternoon. 500 pages in 48 hours.

(and for the record, Bella, you might have a barely-bridled demon for a boyfriend, but I have a fully-unleashed saint for a husband)

I have the second book on my request list at the library. (none of these books on are on any shelves in the city -- they are all in circulation) I will shamelessly put the other two on there, as well.

I have the movie on my Netflix reserve queue. And I know that whenever it comes out, that I'll pop it up to the front of the line. Cursing myself the whole time.

I don't understand it. I don't want to understand it. I just want to enjoy it, scolding myself the whole time.

So until we meet again, Edward, there is something I just have to finally reconcile with myself:

I am such a chick.