Please check out my new blog: www.theunder-analyst.com
Please check out my new blog: www.theunder-analyst.com
I saw the film “Rudy” for the very first time last Thursday night. I know, I know, believe it or not I haven’t been living under a rock the past 15 years, I just never saw it and at some point got it mixed up with that movie Radio and was even more convinced that I didn’t want to see it. The BF, a Notre Dame graduate, had been repulsed, to say the least, upon discovering my lack of football film culture. I promised him I’d watch the guy from Goonies throw a pigskin one of these days, just not any day soon.
We have a charming little independent theater right around the corner of our new place. It hosts a wide genre of movies and often times holds director receptions and actor panels. You can guess which film magically was playing…
I thought the place would be packed, we bought our tickets ahead of time, although it was full it was by no means up to the brim. As we walked in I was thrilled to see Sean Astin chatting with other movie goers. All I kept thinking was Sam Wise Gamgee was here and did he have the precious with him? We took our seats and the lights dimmed. There’s something about old movie theatres, the smell of popcorn and hushed excited voices as the crackling old projector spits out the beginning images.
For those who have not seen Rudy before, I will briefly give you the story:
Rudy is young and little and stupid and lives in a small town. He loves football and dreams of playing for Notre Dame someday.
Rudy graduates high school and gets a job at the local mill.
His best friend tells him to follow his dreams of going to Notre Dame and that it’s not too late (even though the guy is 22). His buddy tragically dies pretty much the next day.
Rudy tells his girlfriend and family that he is leaving them and going to South Bend. They tell him that he sucks.
He attends the local community college and works really hard to get good grades to transfer to Notre Dame.
He finally gets in.
He tries out for the football walk on team. He gets it because he lets the guys beat the hell outta him for practices without complaining.
His family still doesn’t believe that he’s on the team because he doesn’t get to suit up and stand on the sidelines during games.
The last game of his senior year he gets to go out on the field in uniform and play the last 37 seconds of the game. Everyone cheers his name. His dream came true.
Okay, so the film actually was quite inspiring and I was sitting back in my chair thinking about a) how incredible it was for him to have one big dream/goal in life and b) how incredible it was that he actually did it!
And then Rudy ruined it. The real Rudy. They set up the panel on stage with the director, Jon Favreau, Sean Astin and the actual Rudy that the story is based off of.
Real Rudy looked dumpy and on drugs. The other actors appeared to hate the real Rudy just by watching their body language. All questions were deflected so that Real Rudy wouldn’t start babbling some nonsense. What the hell Rudy!? So you were capable of overcoming all the odds and securing your one dream in life and then you just let your life go down the toilet? You couldn’t find another dream? Maybe coaching football at Notre Dame? Or finding a nice wifey to make babies to send to Notre Dame? I dunno.
So at the end of the night I was glad that I had seen the movie. But…
Rudy ruined Rudy.
We have a cat!
MEOOWWW. I’ve been waiting for this moment ever since our second date. I like to believe this cat is the Elmers we didn’t know we needed, like the glue stick the kid puts up his nose. We rescued our furry bundle of joy this past Sunday after extensive cat shopping. While browsing the various rescued selections, I focused on my cat whispering talents as BF made comments like, “I don’t know about that one, he doesn’t really go with our couch.” I was dead set on a cross-eyed 3 year old named Charlie who wanted absolutely nothing to do with me. But we finally gave in to a small tabby with the unfitting name Brian. My mom was in town visiting while the adoption took place and I suddenly felt very maternal, as if I had birthed this cat myself. The little guy had been a stray and was a young 7 months. Were we ready to start a family? YES! In fact if I had it my way we’d be the modern day Partridge family even though it’d be hard to teach all of our cats to play instruments.
Our nameless cat spent the first day of its new life under the couch. Day two he ventured out and actually cuddled up with us and explored the new terrain. Day three we gave him a name (I greatly appreciate all of the suggestions, including my friend M who said, “Why don’t you name him Gunther? Aren’t you like obsessed with that name?” Ummm yeah
because I HAVE a cat named Gunther already back in Minnesota) So after admiring the cat’s agility and intelligence we quickly concluded that he was Gilligan Marbles Marie.
Gilligan Marie is truly a sweet, loving, amazing cat. Even the BF loves him! He has proven himself to be quite articulate and has full on meowing conversations with us. His favorite toys thus far consist of a mouse tied to a string and our curtains. He loves his Fancy Feast and tolerates his dry kitty food. The cat eats more than all of the Biggest Loser contestants combined. Likewise his litter box is almost always at capacity.
This morning my kitty honeymoon came to an abrupt end. He woke us up at 5:45 meowing and sweetly shoving his wet nose into my face. I got up and tried not to trip over him as we walked to the kitchen. I picked up his bowl and turned on the hot filtered water to rinse it out. When I went to turn it off, it kept spurting out water. The thing would NOT shut off! Bf had to shut the water off under the sink. I fed Gilligan Marbles and took my coffee back into the bedroom. Shortly thereafter the cat joined us on our bed. He sat by our feet for a minute then shook himself, getting us wet with sprinkled water. I looked at him and his foot was drenched.
“Hah, honey… Gilligan is so stupid he stepped in his own water bowl.” We both laughed as BF petted our orange beauty. And that’s when I looked past our sweet, adorable cat and saw the giant pool of piss that was at the foot of our bed! BAD KITTYYYY. We ripped off our sheets, but it was clearly too late to reprimand him. We had basically rewarded him for peeing on our bed with pets and nice voices. CRAP. I didn’t want our cat to be walking around with pissfeet so I picked him up and walked to the bathroom where I dumbly turned on the faucet so I could get my hands wet to then wipe his paws. The moment the water went on, he clawed my arm and shoulder while digging his fangs into my back. Naturally I screamed in pain and horror and flung him off of me. I cried like a baby and slammed the door shut to examine my wounds.
This was all very amusing to the BF who I could hear talking to the cat outside of the bathroom, “How could you do that to your mother? After everything she’s done for you… staying up all night, medical bills, sacrificing her figure.”
Very funny. ‘My figure’. UGH. I looked at my body and decided this was a great time to add some self-loathing to my physical wounds and childlike crying. The BF came in as I said, “my butt is dumpy and fat” to which he replied, “aww sweetie, at least
you had your twenties.”
“I’m still IN my twenties jerk!”
“Babe, I’m kidding. You look so good. You could be Brooklyn Decker’s twin!”
This was all too much for me; broken water faucets, cat piss, claw lacerations and sports illustrated model comparisons. As I left the house I looked back at both of them and said, “I’m not sure which one of you I dislike the most this morning.”
Remember when I used to write? I’ve been pondering this the past few days. Why don’t I write anymore? I can’t remember the last time I blogged (unless you count my Cat News blog… yeah, it exists). Was it lack of inspiration? As I sit here now I find nostalgia has created false memories of me bent over a dark wooden desk, quill in hand, feverishly writing, refusing food or drink until collapsing in the wee hours of the night. Okay, that’s not really what happened, I guess what’s more accurate is that I’d write at work (sshhh) or in bed at night. With a significant other in the picture I haven’t been doing much, ahem, writing at night. And besides I’m glued to the damn television wondering who idiot Ashley is going to pick (JP or Ben!?). Just like anything in life I guess I simply need to make the time for it.
But the real reason behind my need to tap the keys today is that I just discovered an amazing website. I’m sensitive. I know from some of my entries you wouldn’t come to that conclusion, but I am. My roommate happens to work for a local news station and therefore I find myself submerged in America’s latest. I feel slightly more worldly and intelligent as a result. But I also find myself scared to take my laundry down outside in the night. Did I lock the door? Is someone following me? Will I be stabbed or even worse will they steal my quarters!?
Introducing the best news website EVER: http://htekidsnews.com/
A concerned mom wanted her 7 year old daughter to be caught up on the news but was afraid some of the content was too “raw” for her. She created htekidsnews. Little did she know that she was creating the perfect news source for ME, a 27 year old school receptionist who loves cats!! MEOW.
Below is just a sample of the wonderful news they share with me and my playground friends:
Should Dogs Wear Seat Belts?
July 15, 2011 — Seeing a dog sticking his head out the car window enjoying the sights and smells on a sunny day is super cute, but is it safe?
Increasingly, many are saying it’s not…
Well isn’t that food for thought. If you find yourself itching to read the whole story just go to their website.
I’ll write more soon. After I find out who Ashley picks tonight on the Bachelorette!
So today is a busy day at work, as usual. But mid facebook chat I noticed that I had a new email in my inbox! How exciting. The suspense was killing me… Was it one of my daily newsletters on how to tone my thighs and butt? Maybe an update from Amazon on things I should buy but never will? Or possibly one of the twenty e-mails back and forth with my mother?
Maybe, just maybe, it was something super important like my daily horoscope!
I quickly brb’d my friend on fb and clicked to my other tab. Oh, what a pleasant surprise, it was an email from my boyfriend.
Subject line: “i think we should try this”
Fear crept over me… I quickly did an over-the-shoulder glance around to make sure no one would see what could potentially get me fired.
To my relief it was a link to a yahoo article.
I clicked. What I discovered was a woman who allowed her boyfriend to pick out her outfits for a whole week. It was entertaining and in his defense he actually did a pretty good job!
***So I thought about it and wondered what my experience would be like if I tried this (as my boyfriend suggested).***
So this morning as I was sudding up my damaged locks (I need a haircut SUPER bad) I turned around and saw a relatively large black ant fighting his way up the side of my outdated light-blue tub. Immediately I said outloud,
“ohhh noooo, poor little guy! Find higher ground, you can do it.”
I watched him closely and carefully, applauding his efforts and wincing with every setback. I was entranced with this little guy’s own Oregon Trail adventure. At one point I was incapable of monitoring my insect friend when banishing yesterday’s makeup with eyes closed. After I was done splashing my face I turned around and was horrified to see my new bathroom neighbor thrashing about in the bottom of the tub in a tidal wave of water and soap.
“Nooooooo!” I screamed as I dove down, craddling his body in my two hands. For a brief second I prayed that he wasn’t a biting ant but then resumed my rescue efforts. I looked around me, desperately trying to find the right place to lay him out, but every surface was wet. I blew on his limp body and then saw my towel that was half hazardly thrown over the side of my sliding shower doors.
I quickly put my hand over the green fluffy Costco special and watched him drag his body onto the dry and soft surface. He laid there for a while, catching his breath. And then he started exploring the new terrain. I was relieved to see all of his limbs were intact and still functional.
But then I realized I needed that big towel. I was wet and now cold after turning off the water. The ant and I would have to share it, easy enough.
I reached for the corner closest to me and began to pat my arm. I needed more towel and the ant was coming closer to me. “Noo, go the other way! You’re taking up the whole thing. You need to learn how to share! I just saved your life! UGH” I decided I needed to exit the shower and use the half dangling over the other side. I patted myself off as best I could and threw on my yellow robe.
“A towel is not an ideal home sweetie. I’ve got just the place for you! I bet you’re hungry.”
I reached out my pruned palms to let him climb on but after he smelled me with his little antlers he ran the other way. I assumed he associated my hands with dying in the great lake of my tub, but it still hurt my feelings. So I went and grabbed a kleenex and coaxed him on that. I jogged naked into the kitchen and set him down on our less than clean floor next to the garbage. “There you go! Feast away buddy. You’re safe now.”
I finished getting ready for work with a big smile on my face and got into my car. I was a hero. A regular Mother Teresa!
I rolled the window down to let the fresh Los Angeles morning air in. At the stop light as I was turning the Ryan Seacrest morning show up louder a gnat came flying into my face. Immediately I wacked it, looked at its lifeless body in my hand, muttered, “eewww” and then wiped it on the side of my driver’s seat.
The irony of this morning didn’t occur to me until I reached work.
Lucky ant, Unlucky gnat.