Earthquakes and Heimlich Maneuvers... Seriously

If you ask me what movies I watched this week to prepare for Movie Review Monday, I'll have to say "None". I was too busy processing my sister's near-death experience and my first earthquake.

First, Friday night, David's parents had come into town to visit. David was scheduled to work at the high school football game but had time for dinner before he had to be over there. We invited my family as well. David's parents wanted to see my niece and our families get along fabulously. It was just an ordinary family dinner. And then my sister choked.

I'm not talking about the "went down the wrong pipe" kind of thing where you cough a few times and then you're okay. She did that at first but it was evident that it was getting worse. My mom said "Are you choking?" She nodded yes and my mom told her to stand up. I should note that my mom is a retired paramedic, my dad is a retired State Trooper and David is a police officer. In addition, my sister, her husband, and I are all CPR-certified. I suppose if you have to choke, it's better to do it around people who know what to do. My mom let her try to cough a couple more times... we could hear a little bit of air moving but not much. Then Mom got up to give her the Heimlich Maneuver. Mom tried twice but couldn't get it. David pushed my mom out of the way, gave it a good pump and my sister was able to cough up the food.

It was one of those things that happened in a matter of seconds but felt like it was in slow-motion. I didn't even realize at first that David had been the one to finally help her. I knew he got up and went to that end of the table but didn't see him take my mom's place. I remember telling the waiter to give them a minute. In a different crowd, sure, calling 911 would be the right thing to do, but in this case I think my sister would have just panicked more if they had done that. I also remember bracing myself for the fact that she might puke. Isn't that a weird thing to think? I didn't really consider the possibility that they wouldn't be able to get her to stop choking. Instead, I just kept telling myself "Okay, when the food comes back up, just be prepared that more might come with it!" (Nothing did, thankfully.)

So, my whole family has been a little shaken up since it happened. My mom freaked out after she got home because she started going over the "what ifs" and also because she couldn't get the object up. "All those years of training and I can't do it when it counts". I had to remind her that A) All bets are off when it's your own child. At least she had the presence of mind to even try! and B) She was at a terrible angle. The chairs in this particular restaurant are big and awkward. Mom was trying to reach around the chair and get to my sister. David was able to come straight behind her and get the proper angle. Not to mention C) It did work out okay. David has also been a little shaken. Again, he's trained to help others... but you never think it will be someone that close to you.

Bottom line... it was a very scary experience that, thankfully, had a good outcome. It's also a reminder that if you aren't trained in CPR / choking, you should be. And, of course, as David saved her life, my sister now has to be his slave forever. And, as I am his wife, this applies to me too. So far, she agreed to share her Nerds Rope with me but wasn't too keen on any of the other "lifetime of servitude" suggestion I had. Party pooper. But seriously, wow - I'm glad she's okay.

Next up... earthquakes. Yes, actual earthquakes. This was not something I was really prepared to deal with when I moved to Arkansas. It was not something I had to deal with when living in Illinois. I pretty much always assumed that if I steered clear of California, I could have an earthquake-free existence. Yeah, yeah, I know the New Madrid fault line runs between Illinois and Arkansas. I learned about it in Science along with all the other 7th graders. So I guess I should say I was always aware of the possibility that an earthquake could happen along that line... or anywhere. But what are the chances, right?

Well, a few years ago, there was a small earthquake about 10 miles away. A few people I knew said they felt the rumble but it was nothing severe. Something similar happened a year or so ago. Again, I went with my 7th grade logic of how the earth's plates are always moving and it was no big deal. So, last week (I think), I was working in Little Rock and found out that Greenbrier had had an earthquake earlier that afternoon. David had been at work when it happened and I think he said he heard some noise. A few other people said they thought it was thundering outside. A few days later, the same thing happened. At this point, I thought it was a little concerning but after-shocks are common. Also, I hadn't personally felt anything so it just didn't seem like a big deal.

Last night, David was at the gym. Bruiser and I were catching up on a little TV. For a split second, I thought I heard my neighbor rev the engine on his motorcycle. Then I realized it was a much lower grumble than the motorcycle. My next thought was thunder. The house did move a little - but just like it does with a big clap of thunder. I looked outside - no motorcycle or thunder. I realized at that point it might have been another earthquake. By the time I had worked it out in my head, it happened again. This time I was sure it was an earthquake. I froze in the middle of the living room... I'm not sure why... and then it happened a third time. I definitely felt the tremor and heard more rumbling. I looked at the clock... 9:50... because it seemed like an important detail to prove I hadn't imagined the whole thing. Of course, the sudden eruption of phone calls and texts proved it wasn't just me. Before long, it was the Facebook status of everyone in town, myself included. About an hour later, USGS confirmed that it had been a 2.9 quake.

Much like the incident with my sister, I didn't want to "what if" too much because nothing bad happened. However, unlike my sister - who will hopefully never choke again - it just seems like earthquakes lead to more earthquakes. Scary! My county and the surrounding counties in the state have been found to have a huge supply of natural gas below the surface and there has been a lot of seismic testing, drilling, etc. in the past few years. Could that have somehow made the plates, for lack of a scientific term, all jacked up? I don't know. Hopefully everything will settle down and this won't be a problem again. I really don't know how Californians do it. This was a small quake... nothing fell over or broke or anything... but just being reminded that something bigger could be looming under the surface... yikes!

But, the weekend wasn't a total bust! I got to spend some time with a friend who had moved away. I forgot how much I missed her!! And I met up with Kelli and had a blast and the time / space continuum did not suffer any damage. We were concerned it might. Wait, do you think that could account for the earthquake?

Now, onto a hopefully much more stable (pun intended) week...

Mark Reads Twilight (So You Don't Have To)

If you ask me, some things are too funny not to enjoy even if you are on the opposite "team".

Today, I came across a website that cracked me up! It's called Mark Reads Twilight (So You Don't Have To) (Note: It does have some not-PG language... just so you know...) This guy, Mark, didn't understand the Twilight phenomenon but decided to read and review the books, chapter by chapter, to see what he was missing. Below is his explanation of why he started the project:

"I have no interest in the series as works of literature, though that's how I'd like to analyze them. I was inspired by my fan interviews of Twilight fans at Comic-Con 2009 to start this project in earnest, mostly because, like Insane Clown Posse fans, I found the fandom to be completely fascinating. "

Now, as I just found the website a little bit ago, I haven't made my way through many of his posts. However, I've got to say, the ones I did read were awesome. I love the books (more on that in a minute) but even as I read them, I was surprised by how much I liked them considering the number of times I found parts to be annoying. So, this website was right up my alley. Not to mention the fact that I love dry humor, sarcasm, and people who don't just "go with the flow".

These posts remind me of watching a slasher film. You know... the kind where you're looking at your movie-watching companion saying "Yeah, go into the woods alone. Good idea!" or "How stupid is this girl? Has she never seen Texas Chainsaw Massacre?"

Of what I read so far, one part that really had me laughing was his commentary on Bella going cliff diving. (If you haven't read the books, Bella - at this point - is heartbroken over Edward the vampire dumping her and she's going to great lengths to hold onto his memories. She does obnoxious things in order to feel close to him.) Or, as Mark puts it:

Ugh. It just feels like a stupid plot piece in this already-stupid book.
BUT NO, GUYS, SERIOUSLY, I'M GONNA JUMP INTO THE OCEAN FULLY CLOTHED TO HEAR A VAMPIRE'S VOICE IN MY HEAD LOL I AM AWESOME.

Sometimes he includes pictures of other stupid or annoying things to reinforce his point. He also had a clip of Pam from The Office doing a happy dance. Obviously I give points to anyone who can work in a reference to The Office.

Does this, in any way, change how I feel about Twilight? No. But I can't argue that he makes many valid and entertaining points. And, I think if you were a non-Twilight fan, you should definitely stop by. You'll finally see what all the fuss is about but you'll have plenty of ammo (silver bullets, perhaps) to fire back at your friends who won't stop talking about Twilight.

It did make me wonder how, given my low tolerance for stupidity, irresponsibility and teenage drama, could I possibly love the books? Hmm. Good question. I don't know. I just do. Why do I hate peas? Why does Blue Man Group scare the bejeezus out of me? Why does cheese make me so happy? I like the storyline of the books. Sure, at times it was predictable, but at other times I thought it was an interesting twist on the vampire genre. (Incidentally, that is why David doesn't care for Twilight. He prefers old-school vamps.) Do I think Edward is clingy and annoying? Yes. Do I think Jacob is hilarious and wish Bella would have picked him? Absolutely. I am guilty of having read them over and over. (Not as many times as I've read Harry Potter, but close. Don't get me started on Harry Potter.) Is it probably the coolest things I've every done? Doubtful. Will I take the day off work so I can go to a midnight showing of New Moon next month? I'm considering it. Nevertheless, this website brightened up a pretty dull day for me... not a bad day, just dull. But not anymore - I'm still laughing at one point where he called Mike Newton a "douchebag". Is it sad that that is one of my favorite words in the English language?

Then, when you're finished with all of Mark's thoughts on Twilight the book, check out this equally hilarious review of Twilight the movie right here.

I'll try very hard not to have any more Twilight posts until after the New Moon movie is released next month... but no guarantees!

Stressed

If you ask me, knowing something stressful is on the horizon actually does very little to prepare you when it hits.

I have known for nearly a year that the second half of 2009 was going to be a pretty hectic time for me at work. I've written before about some of the federal guidelines that will be going into place for the title industry January 1st, 2010. I won't rehash it all because... YAWN!! Basically, preparing to meet the new regulations meant that our company would have to undergo some software changes (my job) and large retraining of employees (my job / the job of our attorney, VP, etc.)


Around April, the CEO called all of us who would be most heavily involved into his office. The objective was to agree on a time line for the various parts of the process, decide who would do what and that sort of thing. At the end of the meeting, however, it was clear the purpose was to assess my mental health. When a CEO tells you "You can't die. If you hand me these projects on your death bed and then keel over, that doesn't help me", you should assume the situation is complex. And, I've never assumed it wasn't. I saw all the peaks and valleys that stood in my way very clearly. I still do. We're well into the process and I'm happy to report that we are on schedule and things are going relatively smoothly. Perfect? Of course not. But manageable.


What's weird is that everyone seems to find this weird. Back in August, we did a round of training that required me to visit most of our offices throughout the state. At that time, Ryan Howard called and asked how I was. I said I was doing fine. The training was going well. I was on my way to the next office. He said "No, really, how are you? You must be exhausted." I said I was tired of being in the car, but fine otherwise.


Then the trip to Dallas with my boss, Ryan Howard, and the attorney. They all kept asking how I was and if I was getting a grasp on the information. They seemed concerned when I said yes. Did I miss something? That seemed like a good thing.


The current phase of the process is converting one of our sister-companies to our software. This will make it much easier for the final and most difficult phase of the process that begins sometime next month. If you've ever had a job where you used one computer system and then were forced to change to another, you can imagine how much fun it is for these employees. Imagine how fun it is to be the one trying to train them. The phrase "Don't shoot the messenger" seems fairly accurate. But still, I feel like it's going pretty well. Yet, when I saw Mr. CEO a couple of weeks ago, he asked the same "How are you" question. Not the casual, passing pleasantry but the kind that actually means "How are your vital signs? Are you drinking heavily?" I assured him I was doing okay.


Then I started getting worried that everyone thinks I should be cracking and I'm not. Did I miss some major step? Is it all about to hit the proverbial fan? Should I be freaking out about something? Why is everyone stressed that I'm not stressed?


I guess everyone deals with stress differently. For some, they have a meltdown, cry, cuss, etc. Other people get headaches or eat when they aren't hungry. Then there are the people who strive on stress. I think I am one of those people. That's a good thing and a bad thing.


I am used to stressful environments. Some of the people I am around a lot are more of the meltdown-type stressers. This has always gotten on my nerves. I don't get it. The Myers-Briggs tells me I am INTJ. If you know me personally, go read that link. It's a bit freaky. Anyway, I think it's just how I am wired. When in a stressful situation, I just want be given some breathing room and some time to formulate a plan. Once I have my plan in place, I pretty well stick to it and get it done. I think I work better in a crunch because then I have to act. My plan will rock- let's do it. So, in that sense, I don't really get stressed out.


What does stress me out is when other people try to change my plan. It drives me crazy when there is too much time in between the plan and the action. Why? Because then someone with a different personality type has time to "what if" my plan to death. I loathe conference calls to go over tiny details and all the other things that come in the corporate world. I don't like going over and over and over the plan and making sure it is completely politically correct, cost-effective, time-sensitive and all those other buzz words. Nevertheless, as it relates to this current project, the system conversion, my plan is well into action.


Last week, I did the classroom training portion of the training. It went okay. Some people caught on more quickly than others, but that's natural. Some people where scared. Some were visibly stressed. All normal reactions. I understand that change is hard for people. This week, I am "on-site" at the two offices that are being converted. I am just sitting with people as they do their day-to-day work in the new system, answering questions, encouraging them, etc.


Today, I got to witness a complete meltdown. One of the ladies who actually did really well in the training apparently got to the office today and decided she just can't do this. Those were her words... "I just can't do this. I have to get out of here." She walked away from the computer and didn't touch it again the rest of the day. One of her co-workers commented "Well, that's an improvement." Improvement? She just had a breakdown! The co-worker added "She's had to go to the hospital before because of panic attacks over stuff like this." Wow - that is stressed out!!


I've thought about this incident since it happened early this afternoon. I've also thought about my own reactions to stress. I'm sure glad I don't get that physically stressed out, right!? Oh, did I mention that I was thinking that on my way to the medicine basket to get some Tums... and realizing that I've almost made my way through another bottle of Tums? Then I started to worry that I might run out of Tums... after all, I've been having esophageal spasms again lately. Those hurt like a mother... I need my Tums. Then I thought maybe I would just go to bed and rest up to deal with the panicky lady again tomorrow. Of course, I looked at the clock and realized it was 8:30. Man, I've been so tired lately. What's the deal? Oh well... the Tums left a funny taste in my mouth. Where are those cookies David made? No, I will not eat a cookie. None of my freaking pants fit as it is. Geesh. Wow - my mind is all over the place tonight. But thank goodness I'm not all stressed like the panicky lady!


Well, everyone who has been asking how I am can relax now. As of today, I realize am officially stressed. In fact, I think I've been stressed for a while. So, if you'll excuse me, I have to go formulate a point by point plan of how to deal with this stress...
My mom

Movie Review Monday: Smart People

If you ask me, Smart People is a movie all people who think they are smart ought to see.


When this movie came out in the theater, I remember thinking "That looks halfway decent... I'll put it on my Netflix list". I don't remember thinking much else about it. I'm guessing the Scrabble tiles on the promo poster probably caught my attention. You might have noticed that I like Scrabble a little bit. Well, by the time it arrived this weekend, I had forgotten about it. I remembered it had Sarah Jessica Parker, but that was all. I am very aware of all movies with SJP because I have to "trick" David into watching them. We'll just say he's not her biggest fan. I debated if I even cared about seeing it or if I should just send it back. But, Sunday afternoon came and I am strictly forbidden from taking naps on Sundays anymore... you might remember why... so I decided to watch it. David had planned to go to the gym, so it seemed like a perfect opportunity to watch without his running commentary on SJP. He ended up not going to the gym, but I just told him it had Thomas Hayden Church and some other people. By the time SJP appeared on screen, he was already somewhat interested in the movie and only threw a minor fit.


The movie centers around Dennis Quaid's character. (I rarely remember character names. Have you noticed?) He is a widower and a university professor. He has the typical widower look (a la Dan in Real Life) of messy hair and scruffy beard. He pairs that with the also-typical disheveled professor look. He's raising two teenagers... a kid I don't know and the girl who played Juno. His adopted brother, Thomas Haden Church (aka The Guy from WINGS), shows up unannounced to ask for money and be irresponsible. Dennis and Juno are both very cerebral. I've learned that people use "cerebral" as a way of stating that someone is very smart but can't function in society very well. Thomas Haden Church at one point calls his brother "socially retarded"... which is fairly accurate. Despite his depression and scruffiness, Dennis Quaid begins dating SJP, who plays an emergency room doctor. As with most things in his life, he blows it because he's too cerebral. He also alienates himself from his son and brother because of his outcast behavior. Juno, on the other hand, models him exactly. She has no friends, no fun, no life... she studies incessantly, prides herself on knowing big words and only cares about life post-high school. She has a picture of Ronald Reagan in her room. This is the point at which David and I looked at each other a little frightened. She comes across like someone else we both know. Hint: It's me... right down to the same Reagan picture.

Through the course of the movie, Quaid starts seeing the effects on his behavior and begins to make some changes. It ends well... not in a sappy, overdone sort of way, but just the way it should have. And, as it is an academic movie, I feel obligated to give it the grade it earned, not the grade it thinks it deserves... either way, I give it an A.

The movie itself was a little dark, funny in a dry way and something I needed to watch. It wasn't action-packed or super hilarious. In fact, it sort of reminds me of a movie I've seen before but can't put my finger on the name of. Either way, I'm glad I watched it because there were parts that reminded me of myself... and not in a good way.

Like the people in the movie, I've always been book-smart. I like big words. I read for fun. I care about grammar. Other than math, school came very easily to me. I've never been an athlete. I tried frequently but ended up out of breath and usually in a cast or brace of some sort. I've never been very outgoing or had a lot of friends. I know a lot of people. I have a lot of acquaintances but very few people I care to interact with often. I have internal debates with myself over things like how I know the preceding sentence should read "with whom I care to interact often" but how this is a blog and not a term paper, so it's probably okay to "keep it casual". I often joke that I have trouble interacting with three dimensional humans. And, I'll go ahead and say it... I think I'm smarter than a lot of people. So did the people in the movie. What did it get them? They were lonely, unhappy, pompous and a whole slew of other character flaws.

Smart People didn't bring about some great epiphany for me. This is something that's really been on my mind the past few month. Am I smart? Yes. In high school, I thought that was a bad thing. No one ever asked me out because of my ACT score. No one asked me out period, actually. I sometimes felt ashamed that learning things was easy for me. In college, I overcame that. I was surrounded by lots of smart people. They didn't apologize for it, they embraced it. So, I did too. Before long, I started feeling superior to a lot of people. That trend has continued. Let's just say it's not a good color on me... or anyone. Now I find myself trying to be comfortable with who I am without making other people feel badly that don't have a brain full of useless information or a pricey (yet pointless) degree.

I think I will always be sarcastic. I think I will always have a low tolerance for BS or blatant stupidity. But "low tolerance" is not the same as "no tolerance". I'm trying. I'm trying to be more accepting of people. I might be smart about certain things, but I might also be a little socially retarded. But hey, if Dennis Quaid can do it, so can I.

And now I will stop with my self-psychoanalysis and get back to pretendy movie critic. Bottom line: I recommend Smart People.

Exile

If you ask me, sometimes exile seems much worse than it actually is! I mean, sure, political or religious exile might not be ideal... but what about rural exile?

As I have mentioned before, I live in a very small town. It's about 15 minutes to a big town... and that big town is about 30 minutes from a city. Sometimes, people say "You live there?" We both know what they mean is "Why do you live there?" Small town life isn't that enticing for a lot of folks. I don't blame them. Last night at 9:30 when David realized he needed cold medicine and I realized I needed bribes treats for the class I was teaching today, we had to pile in the car and drive to Walmart. A nighttime drive 10 miles away just to obtain a couple of items is not exactly convenient. Granted, our grocery store stays open until 10:00 but honestly the gas to get to and from Conway was less than the increased prices we would have paid at the grocery store here. Small town grocers seem to have a slightly different product mark-up philosophy since a lot of folks will just pay the higher prices to avoid the drive. I will not. It's a mixture of advanced economic theory and the fact that if I have to drive to Walmart, I can more easily justify swinging by Starbucks on my way home. So yes, I concur there are some convenience issues that come from living in such a small town.

There's also the "small town" issues that come from living in a small town. Everyone really does know everyone else's business. The center of the gossip is the school system... followed closely by church cliques... and then a trickle-down effect that covers everyone who is left. People I don't remember meeting often say to me "I think your husband gave me a ticket". And it's not that uncommon for me to meet someone new and already know about their divorce and where they work and whatever else because I've "heard it around town".

What a fitting cartoon

When I meet someone from outside of my town and I tell them where I live, they automatically assume I was raised here. In fact, I was raised 650 miles from here... in a medium-sized town, not too far from a really huge town. People are usually surprised that I chose to live in a small town. I guess if I grew up here, that would make sense, but the fact that I voluntarily live here boggles the mind. I give the same answer over and over... I like that there is less traffic here. I like my church here. I like that my house cost less than your house and my taxes are lower than yours. I like that I walk in Joe's Pizza and they already know what I want to drink. (Well, that last one might just be that I eat out too much...) Sure, there are some trade offs but I chose to live here because I like it here.


Lately, however, I've been feeling somewhat exiled out here in the boondocks. I've grown weary of the same 4 restaurants in rotation. I'm tired of having to drive to all the "good stuff". Sometimes (like now) it's a little too quiet out here and I'm convinced my neighbor's dog just howled my name. I'm feeling a little closed-in.


Then there is the kid factor. This topic has come up a lot lately for myself and a few of my friends... you know, the voluntarily childless. Most of my friends have had kids in the last few years. I'm happy for them and I can see how much they love their kids. But, I don't have kids. I will probably have kids someday but that's a whole different blog. Right now, I don't. They do. They go home at 7:30 to get the kids ready for bed. I want to go to a movie at 7:30. They want to eat at a place the kids can run around and not break anything. I want to eat at Red Lobster. That's in no way a condemnation on those with little ones. I just say it to point out that I am no longer in the same place in life as a lot of my friends. So, I'm stuck in a small town with nothing to do and no one to do it with. (Not "do it"...I mean, do stuff... like activities.)


And, the people I know who are around my age and who are also childless would never drive out here anyway. First of all, they'd get lost. Secondly, they will swear it takes two hours. It doesn't. I promise. So, on the rare occasion we have something to do, we have to drive to Little Rock to do it. I don't mind... Little Rock is where the fun stuff is and I have to go there anyway if I want to go to Sam's or the mall or a movie theater with stadium seating... but it's just that no one ever says "Hey, we'll drive out to you and play Apples to Apples". People say "We'll meet you at (wherever in Little Rock)". Again, I don't mind most of the time...


Recently though, I've kind of been in a rut. I keep thinking "Why do I live all the way out here in the land where fun goes to die? I'm only 30. I should live in a vibrant place and do fun young people stuff." By big city standards, 30 is just barely an adult. By small town standards, I should have 3 kids by now and go to bed at 9:00. So, that's where my mind has been lately... having a big, ol' pity party because of my self-inflicted small town exile.


If we moved, we would have so many more opportunities. David could have a higher paying job. I work for my company's corporate office in Little Rock. I work remotely from a branch office here but it's no secret that they would prefer I work at Corporate. We could make lots of friends and do lots of "fun" stuff. I could go to Walmart whenever I wanted. Yet, even in light of all of those things... when I take off the "Woe Is Me" glasses... I don't see myself moving.


For the next few weeks, I am commuting to Little Rock. I loathe driving. Me commuting is like having bamboo skewers shoved under my nails. However, there is no way around it right now. Tonight, as I was sitting on I-40, I was taking stock of my small town existence and I remembered very clearly why I choose to exile myself to the outskirts of Faulkner County... it's because of I-40. It's because, while more convenient, all the things about "big city living" stress me out. I don't miss the traffic. I don't miss the noise. I don't. If it means the closest Olive Garden is 45 minutes away, so be it. If it means no one ever comes to my house, that's fine... I didn't want to clean anyway. If it means (aside from a few work occasions) I only have to drive in this bloody traffic by my own choice, then good deal! It also means that when someone says "Hey, why don't you come here we can do ___", I can say "Sure, I'd love to!" because I know I get a brief respite from Boringville... but I get to come straight back before the tax assessor can catch up with me and raise my millage!


So, you can call me "small town" if you want, but you know, being exiled has it's advantages.

Movie Review Monday: The Review That Wasn't

If you ask me how Couples Retreat was, you're probably expecting a gushing, excited answer. After all, I've been counting down for weeks and weeks and been obnoxiously excited about opening weekend. Instead, my answer will be "I don't know. I decided not to see it."


GASP!!!


How did this happen? A few weeks ago, Kelli had mentioned that she might want to go see it with us. I touched base with her mid-week and she was still into it... if she could convince her husband. Apparently, he thought it looked chick-flickish and dumb. We exchanged a few tweets about how it was Vince Vaughn and a bunch of chicks in bikinis. How could a dude not want to see that? Vince Vaughn... come on! When is he not funny?! Then, Friday afternoon, tragedy struck...

What? How can this be!? Only 9% of people liked Couples Retreat? Surely there must have been two movies opening this weekend called Couples Retreat. I mean, I've never even been in a movie and I'm pretty sure I have a 9% approval rating with Rotten Tomatoes.


I am not the type of person who puts a lot of stock into reviewers... especially when less than 100 people have reviewed something. And, typically, the lower the reviews, the more I like it. If it wins the Academy Award for Best Picture, I will probably be bored by it. However, I went to Rotten Tomatoes and started reading and nearly every review said the same thing. It was full of lame jokes, trying to hard to be funny, etc. In the past, I would have said "Screw it" and went to see it anyway.


That was before Year One.


Early this summer, I was ridiculously excited for Year One. I love Jack Black. I love Michael Cera. The previews were hilarious. When all the reviews said the only funny parts were in the previews, I said "Screw it" and went anyway. MISTAKE! I mean, it wasn't the worst movie I've ever seen, but it was most definitely a waste of money. Let's face it, you pay $8+ each for the ticket... then the smell of the popcorn is too much for me to resist... and with popcorn comes something to wash it down... so it adds up to a decent amount of money. For a good movie, I have no problem with that. For Year One, I was sorely disappointed. At that point, I promised myself that I wouldn't see every movie in the theater. There are some movies that are okay on DVD but not worthy of the theater experience... even for someone like myself who absolutely loves going to the movies.


So, with Kelli out... and with me recalling the tragedy that was Year One, I decided to wait for Couples Retreat bootlegged online with Chinese subtitles on DVD. I had to have a few stern discussions with myself when the less-responsible part of me was saying "Just go see it anyway. Skip the popcorn and Coke. Just go..." but I managed to resist the temptation. And, as the movie has only managed a meager 12% now that thousands more people have seen it, I'm feeling pretty confident in my choice. After all, Year One topped out at 16%.


When it comes out on video, will I see it? Absolutely. If it's hilarious and grossly underrated, will I apologize profusely for doubting Vince Vaughn's comedic wisdom? Sure thing. But, all in all, I think I'm okay not having spent $30+ on a night at the movies for what might turn out to be a bomb.


So, I have no movies to review this week. I will say that the highlight of my TV / movie life in the past 7 days was Jim and Pam's wedding on The Office. What a fantastic episode. Of course, it came with several expected wedding cliches, but it also had a uniquely Office spin on things. This went a long way toward healing the hole in my heart left by the fact that I never got a Ross and Rachel wedding on Friends. Best wishes for a long and happy fictional life together, Jim and Pam!


Also, as David got a PlayStation 3 this weekend (even though I still don't have a bird pillow - where is the justice?) I am sure I will up my movie watching for a while... at least until the fresh magic of Blu-ray wears off.

Insomnia

“Many things--such as loving, going to sleep, or behaving unaffectedly--are done worst when we try hardest to do them.” C.S. Lewis

If you ask me, C.S. Lewis was dead on. The harder you try to sleep, the less likely it is to happen. This was the story for me Sunday night... and I fear I will spend the rest of the week paying for it.

I've been generally lucky as far as sleeping goes. I'm not one of those people who fall asleep as soon as their head hits the pillow. David is that sort. In fact, I often think he falls asleep before he hits the pillow... he reaches over, turns off the light and is usually unconscious a millisecond later. He's snoring before he is completely horizontal. I usually spend about 5-10 minutes scrunching pillows and blankets around, flipping and flopping, turning my pillow to the cold side, trying to move Bruiser from wherever he has decided to land (usually exactly where I want my legs to be) and so forth. When I finally get comfortable, I will inevitably have to pee. Then there is a bit more snuggling of blankets, adjusting of Bruiser, etc. Eventually, I'll get in just the right spot. Then, it takes another 10 minutes or so for my brain to slow down and allow myself to fall asleep. So, about 20 minutes after being in bed, I'm usually down for the count. Of course, there are nights where this process takes much longer, but generally, it's not a problem. This was not the case Sunday night. It was a huge problem.

It was rainy this Sunday. Also, David was scheduled to work the midnight shift this week. He usually works the day shift, so he had to spend most of Sunday afternoon napping to get ready for the switch. At first, I resisted the lure of the nap. I know full well that if I take a nap on Sundays, combined with the caffeinated iced tea I normally drink at dinner on Sundays, I have trouble falling asleep. But, like Milli Vanilli, I blame it on the rain. My resistance to the napping soon faded and I cozied up to David for a loooong nap. Terrible idea.

At 11:00, I was still wide awake. I normally stay up fairly late, but usually by 11, I'm at least yawning. By 11:15, I convinced myself to get ready for bed and then read until I was tired. I read until midnight and was still not remotely tired. (I'm reading Eclipse again and you know how I get with my Twilight novels. If I didn't put it down at midnight, I'd read and read until Jacob ran to Canada.) I should have kept reading... at least it would have been something to do. Instead...

Midnight - Call David. Complain I can't sleep.

12:30 - Turn on my iPod and hope some music will lull me to sleep.

1:00 - Have a stern talk with myself that I have to go to sleep now!

1:30 - Debate drugging myself with Benadryl but decide surely I will fall asleep soon.

1:31 - Resort to counting sheep. Count to 3 before getting bored.

1:45 - Realize I also have a killer headache.

2:00 - Call David and complain again / dig through our medicine basket looking for Tylenol PM. Settle for plain Advil.

2:30 - Play the "if I fall asleep now, I'll get 5 hours of sleep" game.

2:32 - Decide that I can't take Benadryl at this point or I'd be groggy in the morning.

2:33 - Realize I'm going to be groggy either way.

2:45 - Wonder if the Advil will ever kick in.

3:00 - Call David to complain that I can't sleep AND have a terrible headache.

3:15 - Take a shower hoping that will relax me.

3:30 - Decide to read for 15 minutes or so.

3:32 - Abandon reading plan after becoming angry that Twilight vampires do not require sleep.

3:33 - Add that to my list of reason I wish I were Alice Cullen.

3:36 - Turn iPod back on. Realize it's the Twilight soundtrack. Get mad again at fictional vampires.

4:00 - Call David, nearly in tears, to complain.

4:15 - Convince myself that 3 hours of sleep is adequate. I can take a nap at lunch. Repeat stern "go to sleep now" talk.

4:20 - Feel grateful that I don't have to deal with insomnia nightly and wonder how people with small children function.

4:21 - Try to sleep in honor of those who legitimately can't.

4:30 - Abandon all hope. Watch Entourage.

5:00 - Watch Hoarders.

5:40 - Realize that I am both an insomniac AND a hoarder.

5:45 - Decide that I don't want to be a hoarder and should clean my closet ASAP!

5:45 and 2 seconds - Get a bowl of cereal and more Advil instead.

6:00 - Realize I have just spent my first night ever awake all night.

6:01 - Remember that it's actually my third night ever. Both Prom nights in high school, we had an all-night lock-in thing and I stayed awake for those.

6:02 - Debate if I took any naps during the lock-ins.

6:03 - Fall asleep wondering about the lock-ins.

7:45 - Email my boss and let him know I've been up all night with a killer headache and won't be coming in to work.

At 8:00, David got home from his shift... laughed (but was sympathetic) about my horrible night and "coached" me through what I needed to do next. He's a pro at changing his sleeping habits because of all the shift changes through the years. He said I could only sleep until about 10, then I had to get up for a few hours. Then I could have a SMALL nap in the afternoon if I needed it, but not more than an hour. The plan, apparently, was that I was to be as exhausted as possible by 9:00 or 10:00 at night so I could sleep normally and get back on schedule. I doubted this plan at first. I mean, I had just gotten tired... the last thing I wanted to do was be awake. But, I figured he had more experience in this area and I should follow the plan. I've got to say, it worked like a charm.

I woke up this morning, rather refreshed, at 7:57. I have to be at work at 8:00. Perhaps the plan worked too well.

Movie Review Monday: The Rocker

If you ask me, Rainn Wilson should just go ahead and legally change his name to Dwight Schrute. I will call him Dwight Schrute no matter what his real name is or what the names of any subsequent characters he plays might be.


The Rocker has been out for quite a while, but I just got around to watching it this weekend. It's a good thing Netflix doesn't charge late fees because it's been sitting on our entertainment center for weeks as I went back and forth on if I was still interested in seeing it. But, I've got to say, not half bad.


Plus, as Christina Applegate was in it, David watched it with me. Christina Applegate is possibly number one on David's "list". You know...

Sorry, you know I take any opportunity possible to add a clip from Friends or The Office. It's a bit ironic that I've added a Friends clip to a post about someone from The Office. Anyway, where was I? Oh, Christina Applegate is on David's list. It's a nice change of pace from some of the bimbos other girls he has on his list... *cough* Megan Fox *cough*


Okay, back to the subject at hand... The Rocker. Dwight Schrute plays a formerly almost-famous drummer. Just when his band was about to make it big, he was replaced. (PS - Bradley Cooper was one of the band members. He is an alternate on my list.) For 20 years following, he is depressed about being ousted, refuses to play the drums and works in Customer Service or something. He ends up having to live in his sister's attic. While there, his nephew's garage band is short a drummer and won't get to play their Prom gig. They finally convince him to play. Some things go awry and they end up having to practice via web cam. Not fully understanding this technology, Uncle Dwight practices naked. Someone posts it to YouTube. It gets millions of hits. The Naked Drummer is born. And then they go on tour (he does wear clothes, thankfully)... and even more things go awry.


The movie was better than I expected. Don't get me wrong, it's not going to win any Academy Awards... but it was a decent way to spend a couple hours on an otherwise boring Friday night. It sort of had a slightly cheesier Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist vibe to it. (I love that movie, by the way). The best part was that Dwight Schrute acted exactly like Dwight Schrute. With most actors, this annoys me... but given my love of all things Schrute, I liked it. There were parts of the movie that were a bit teeny-bopper, but not too bad. There was nothing overly complex about the storyline. It was just a good, funny-in-a-corny-way movie. For delivering exactly what it should have and not trying to be more than it was, I give the movie a B.


This weekend, Couples Retreat opens. I am bizarrely excited. Have I mentioned that I ♥ Vince Vaughn? David and I spent part of the day quoting Wedding Crashers lines. I suggested that we watch one Vince Vaughn movie a night leading up to the weekend. He reminded me that that would interfere with my ridiculous TV-watching schedule. Good point. It's the thought that counts, right? I hope I'm not expecting too much and setting myself up for disappointment. But, that's the beauty of Vince Vaughn. You sort of know what to expect going in. As long as he has at least one scene where he talks chaotically and says about 50 words without a pause in between, I'll be happy! For example: Janice, I apologize to you if I don't seem real eager to jump into a forced awkward intimate situation that people like to call dating. I don't like the feeling. You're sitting there, you're wondering do I have food on my face, am I eating, am I talking too much, are they talking enough, am I interested I'm not really interested, should I play like I'm interested but I'm not that interested but I think she might be interested but do I want to be interested but now she's not interested? So all of the sudden I'm getting, I'm starting to get interested... And when am I supposed to kiss her?... and so on. So, bring on Couples Retreat!

TGIF??

If you ask me, Friday nights just aren't what they used to be. I remember when Friday night used to the best night! It was the perfect night for a date or a girls' night or a sleepover or just about anything. Saturdays are great too, but since I've always gone to church on Sundays, I have never been the type to stay up super late on Saturdays. Usually by 1AM (or before), it's time to call it a night. But Friday, glorious Friday... you can stay up until the crack of dawn and then sleep all day Saturday if you want.


In high school, Fridays meant a football game and doing something with friends. In college, Fridays usually meant skipping the last class of the day and leaving early to head out on some weekend adventure (aka Dena's apartment). In my early 20's, I don't remember a set pattern of doing anything in particular on Fridays, but I don't remember not doing anything. David and I used to reserve Fridays as "date night" even after we were married. And now, at 30, here I sit on a Friday night. So far, I've mopped the kitchen floor! Whoo hooo! I'm still reeling from the adrenaline rush! (Or maybe I'm just a little woozy from the Pine-Sol fumes!)


Then, after I come down from my Pine-Sol contact high, I have to decide what to do about dinner. David made a vat of deer chili last night. Yes, a vat. A normal amount of chili goes in a pot. Enough chili to feed the country of Chile goes in a vat. I can't eat it. First of all, he thinks all manly food requires Cavendar's and Rotel. I am a fan of neither. Second, it's made with meat from a deer he killed last hunting season and has been in the freezer ever since. And now it's hunting season again, so we have to use up last year's meat. In fact, David is out in the woods at this very moment trying to conjure up another deer so he can fill the freezer with fresh meat. Meat that I can't eat. Well, somewhere between "won't" and "can't". If I were starving, like actual impoverished starving, I could eat it. However, I am blessed not to be in that condition. I just have this weird thing where I can only eat anonymous animals. I told you it was weird. I can eat the nameless, faceless lump of red, squishy meat from the supermarket. I cannot eat the meat from an animal that David made eye contact with and then killed. No, I'm not a member of PETA or anything like that. Yes, I think God made animals partly for us to eat. That's all fine and dandy. I just can't think too much about the fact that the animal used to be all alive and stuff or I gag. If I eat an animal David hunted, I think about it too much. And I gag. (Sorry if I'm making you gag too.) In fact, I would give vegetarianism a go if I liked more than 4 vegetables. So, now I have to find something for myself to eat for dinner. And since I don't want to cook anything that might splatter on my freshly-mopped floor, it's probably a cereal night. Aw, crap... I just remembered that we're out of milk.


Oh, and as long as I'm exposing the boredom of my old-lady evening, I suppose I could add "color hair" to my list of fun Friday night antics. I've definitely got a few grays shining through at me right now. Ugh.


When did this happen? When did I get old? When did I start spending Friday nights mopping floors and moping around about deer chili? When did the only reason I looked forward to Friday become the fact that it meant two days off work? I mean, that's always be a reason... but not the only reason. What is a 30 year old (with no kids) supposed to do on a Friday night?


Well, there you have it... my rant about my Friday. Now, if you'll excuse me, my shoulder is hurting from the mopping and I need to go find some Icy Hot.

A Yankee in a land of Rebels

Moving from one part of the country to another can be confusing. So, I've made this educational guide in case any of you find yourself moving to the South anytime soon.

I spent my childhood in the very average Midwestern town of Sterling, Illinois. There were about 15,000 people who lived in the shadows of about 15 billion ears of corn. I had all the typical complaints about my small-town existence. It was boring. All the "cool" stuff was far away. I couldn't wait to leave for college. I chose a college in Arkansas. I realize that seems equally boring. However, my grandmother was raised in Arkansas and I had a number of cousins still down there. I spent a lot of time in Arkansas and thought small-town life seemed less boring there. Plus, I'd been raised on my grandma's fried potatoes and I knew what the world "y'all" meant, so I felt fully qualified to make a move. In the summer of 1997, I packed up and left for college. What I found surprised me.

Lesson One: Yankees

I noticed a number of my new college friends referred to me as a Yankee. I tried in vain to convince them that I was a Cubs fan. I thought it was a very odd assumption for people to make. Why would you assume I was a Yankee? They told me my accent gave it away. I found myself more confused by the answer. I was sure I did not talk like a New Yaaawka. And I didn't. However, it was brought to my attention that I did talk "funny". I had a Northern accent. Okay, fine. But I'm still a Cubs fan. Turns out that the problem was my having been born above the Mason-Dixon line. It had nothing to do with the baseball (other than the fact that I was not a Cardinals fan). It had everything to do with the Civil War. In the North, we covered the Civil War in Social Studies, but apparently not to the same degree it is covered in the South. Had I grown up in the South, I would have known that the North was the Yankees and the South was the Rebels. Furthermore, the old-timers in the South refer to it as the War of Northern Aggression. Turns out a lot of people in the South are not so fond of Yankees.

...............

Different kinds of Yankees... neither of which are very popular in the South

Lesson Two: Dry Counties

I instantly noticed that everyone in Arkansas talked a lot about dry counties. Having moved in August when it was approximately 763 degrees, I was not surprised that the county was experiencing dry conditions. Yet, I found it odd that I lived in White County, which was apparently having quite a drought, while neighboring Pulaski County was not dry at all. "Hmm, that is odd..." I remember thinking. What sort of weather anomaly would cause it to rain plentifully in one county while a county a few miles away was so dry? And how weird that this seemed to happen all over the state. I finally questioned someone about the fact that it didn't seem that dry. Only then did I learn that dry referred to the fact that the county did not sell alcohol. If you live in a dry county and want to purchase alcohol, you have to drive to the nearest wet county. As a non-drinker, this didn't seem like a big deal to me. But, sure enough, the local Wal-Mart did not have any aisles devoted to beer, wine and the like. That was different to a Yankee such as myself. In the North, you can buy alcohol anywhere. There are the requisite shoddy liquor stores. The gas stations and supermarkets carried the basics. Nearly every restaurant in town had a liquor license. You didn't have to be 21 to eat lunch at Kelly's (an "Irish pub" in Sterling that has some of the best Mexican food around). For most of my childhood, you couldn't buy alcohol on Sundays, but even that changed. I guess I was so used to it being around that alcohol never crossed my mind as the subject of a countywide debate. So, there you have it... dry counties do not have drought problems. Supposedly they have fewer drinking problems. (PS - I now live in a "damp" county. You can't purchase alcohol at stores but most restaurants have permits to serve it.)

......................................

The farmer of this drought-stricken dry county will have to find a different way to drown his sorrows since he lives in a dry county.

Lesson Three: Escort Services

Imagine my surprise when I moved to the Bible Belt to attend a conservative Christian university only to find a full spread of Yellow Pages listings for escort services. I gasped. This wasn't Las Vegas, people! How can you possibly have so many escort services? Is that even legal? I had heard that the wet counties had strip clubs... but come on!? How hypocritical! It's not okay to buy alcohol but order all the promiscuous ladies you want. What in the world!!! There must be some explanation. And there was. While there might be a few of the less-reputable types, the majority of escort services in Arkansas exists for the purpose of safely guiding... escorting... large items down the roadways. You know, those trucks with the flashing lights the go before and after mobile homes and large equipment. Escort services. Ooops.

......................

Be careful who you call a "Wide Load"!

Lesson 4: Racial Relations

The North is fairly ethnically diverse. I grew up around people of all races and colors. It wasn't a big deal. What was a big deal was making comments about it. The "N" word would get you in much more trouble than the "F" word. In fact, other than the Kings of Comedy and the like, I don't know if I ever heard that word used in conversation. When I moved to the South, I knew this might be slightly different. Let me just take a moment to dispel some stereotypes. Sure, I've encountered a few people who aren't so fond of people who are different than them. Those types of people exist everywhere. But, most Southern people I met were sensitive and respectful to matters of race. That's why I almost fell out of my chair when I heard Dena's brother make such a racist comment. I mean, he was raised "right". He knew better than to say things like that. I was horrified! And he said it in front of his mother!! And she did not freak out!!My family noticed that I was suddenly very uneasy and asked me what was wrong. I told them I was just caught off-guard that he would say something like that. It was then that I learned my cousin had no problem with other races and that a "pole-cat" is a skunk... not a racist comment.

..........................

Pepe Le Pole Cat... and a group of people who might appreciate my racial sensitivity but think I'm a moron

Lesson Five: Words That Sound The Same

My senior year of college, I remember going to a Razorback basketball game a friend of mine. He had a fairly heavy Southern accent but I thought I generally understood what he was saying and could decipher his dialect. At the game, he said "The lion". I was confused and looking around for a lion. I can't remember who the other team was but I remember thinking "They are the (mascot), not the Lions". I asked him where the lion was. He pointed down to the floor and looked at me like I was crazy. He kept saying "The lion, the lion". Finally I said "I . Don't. See. It!!" To which he replied "You're lion." WHAT!? After much debate, we established that he was, in fact, saying "line" initially. He was trying to point out something that had happened on the line of the court. Then, when I said I didn't see the line, he said I was "lyin'". You know, you're lyin' when you're not telling the truth. And, at no time was he discussing the king of the jungle. All three words sounds exactly the same... like a drawn-out version of "lon". If I remember my phonetics correctly, that would be a short "o".


I went on to marry someone with an even thicker Southern accent. David grew up in the southern part of Arkansas, near the Louisiana border. His accent his hard to describe. It's also hard to understand. However, after the "lion" incident, I became much more comfortable just telling people "I don't know what you're saying." Of course, that also leads to a lot of mumbles of "Yankee" under their breath.

None of these things are at all like the other

So, there you have it... my crash-course in culture shock. I could probably write 10 more blogs on this same topic. I've been here 12 years now and still come across things that make me realize I will never fit in flawlessly. I love Arkansas and have no foreseeable plans of leaving. That comes as a shock to many, but I honestly love it here. True, I can't always understand what people are saying. Yes, my accent gives me away sometimes. (Although when I go back the North, I'm told I sound like a hick. I guess I'm an accent vagabond!) But, this is my adopted home. I might not deer hunt (but David's out in the woods right now) or know much about Robert E. Lee, but I sure know that all soda is Coke and that the fastest way to get laughed out of town is to order a "pop". Actually, I just order the much more common beverage here... sweet tea. Mmm! In fact, if I could just have Angelo's Pizza to go with it, I'd be all set. (Oh yeah, apparently "all set" is a Northern phrase. Who knew?)