Literally Leah

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The Real Rudy November 21, 2011

Filed under: Recreational Activity — The Under-Analyst @ 10:06 am
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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.

The End

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.


Diary of a cat owner… November 11, 2011

Filed under: Cat — The Under-Analyst @ 11:03 am
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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.”