MHIBTY Goes to the Movies

My DVD player is back in working order. I'm not sure what happened. Preliminary conclusion is that I had the red and yellow inputs switched, though, I would have sworn I checked those. Oh well, I'm not entirely surprised that I forgot to look. Regardless, now I can now resume my Netflix membership

I don't watch a terrible amount of movies. I don't have anything against them, I actually LOVE movies, but I've just seen a below average amount of them. I will admit that I've never seen The Rocky Horror Picture Show, The Adams Family, Patch Adams or any of the Family Vacations. I watched Pulp Fiction for the first time last summer. There are more, but I'm not going there today.

Today is another "no qualifications" review (and I use that world loosely) of all the movies I've seen since Thanksgiving.

Very Bad Things
Sabrina recommended this movie and said "this is the what inspired 'the hangover.'" With that, I was ready for hilarity to ensue while the bachelors romped through Vegas 1999 style. And then Jeremy Piven accidentally killed the hooker and Christan Slater went bat sh!t crazy. The body count kept growing and I kept waiting for Mike Tyson to make his cameo. Soon I realized that Sabrina had misspoke - this movie hadn't inspired "The Hangover," "Very Bad Things" is what happened when "The Hangover" and "American Physcho" had a baby.

What About Bob
Bill Murray is a classic. This movie is brilliant in its simplicity and I'm so glad to have finally watched it. Right off the bat you're irritated with Richard Dryfuss's arrogant doctor character and I was smitten with Bob's adorable fear or everything. I loved the formula of the movie and the characters were endearing.

Eat Pray Love
The book is ALWAYS better than the movie.

Harry Potter 7.1
I struggled between which made me more lame: wanting to go see this movie or not having someone to go with? I ended up seeing it with Jennie - whose girlfriend didn't want to see it, so it was a date by default. But of course I thought it was AWESOME.

Half Baked
I had never seen this one either and was just, mostly, watching it so I'd get the references. It made me miss the Chappelle Show thats fo sho.

Une Femme Est Une Femme
A French film, "A Woman is a Woman" was a fun and endearing story about a woman in the 1960's that wanted to have a baby but her boyfriend wasn't hip to the idea. One of my favorite scenes was early on when they were going to sleep and she kept coming onto him.

Her "My fanny is cold."
Him "I'm not falling for that."

Love Actually
I am a sucker for this movie. It's a Christmas Movie. It's a Romantic Comedy. It's British.

Black Swan
It failed to give me the heebie jeebies like it did for Shan, but that's mainly because I psyched myself out for it because it had skeered her so much. It was a genuine thriller set in a world perfect for the dramatics it created. Plus it was a great way to familiarize a new generation to the story of Swan Lake. You guys knew I used to be a ballerina, right?

And by "ballerina" I mean I took ballet classes from some lady, who owned a small studio in Prairie Village Kansas, from 2nd to 7th grade. And now I have something in common with Natalie Portman... "SO we were both in a production of Swan Lake..."

Spring is in the Air

Spring is actually NOT in the air. However, spring is in my wardrobe. People near and dear to me know I rock the thrift store. I often will try to dress exclusively in thrift store items just because I can.


Yesterday the Thrift Bug bit me and I spent hours at my favorite neighborhood spot. One of the many great things about thirft stores are that they are unique and you have to dig to find treasures. As a Chinese fortune cookie once told me, nothing worth having is ever easy.




I spent somewhere between 2 or 3 hours total digging through the clothes. I didn't even LOOK at housewares. I spent my entire time going through all the racks of clothing. I found this skirt for just a few dollars.



The only reason these photos are touched up is because I have on NO make up and haven't showered today.

I can't wait for spring.

What's SOOOOO funny?

At the age of 9 I was allowed to tag along with my sister, cousin and a few of their friends to go see Fried Green Tomatoes. I was with my older sister and eating candy in a dark theater thinking life couldn't get any better.... the poignant story was lost on me... when during the "barbecue" scene the theater erupted in laughter after the line "... the secret is in the sauce."

Everyone was laughing and I didn't know why. Panic stricken, I tried to replay the scene and piece together the dialogue to get the punch line, but I couldn't. A combination of intent concentration on my whoppers and skittles and the fact that I was only nine years old led me to miss the joke.

I didn't realized the laughter had completely died when I turned to my sister and, loudly, asked "What's SOOOOO funny?"

A few giggles sprang up throughout the crowd and I immediately realized I was not only a dunce, but a dense dunce and broadcasted to EVERYONE that I didn't get the joke...that the secret was NOT the sauce however, but instead the meat.

Anyway, fast forward to today. I received an email from a friend who asked if she is a bad person for getting a laugh out of the name Kimberly Hunt...initials K. Hunt. Seeing nothing wrong or even remotely funny, I didn't think so. I assumed, rightly, I was missing something. I replied all and asked "Did something just go over my head?"

When another friend replied "say it quickly..." the sting of public embarrassment I knew from the movie theater came rushing back.

MY EXCUSE for not getting it at first, I'll tell you, is that I just don't have a dirty mind and that word just isn't a part of my vernacular. And now I have to go back and re-read all my old posts to see if I ever dropped the See You Next Tuesday bomb.

Hibernation

The first major snowfall of the season started falling about 24 hours ago. A fraction of what the Northeast got after Christmas, but still - several inches worth. It's now the fourth week into winter and hibernation is official.

My pantry is stocked. I made an improvised pasta with a couple of quick "how to?" texts to Stef. For example "How do I make a garlic butter sauce for a pasta?" Her response was to basically melt the butter and then to saute some garlic in it. It's basic cooking skills or inherited knowledge (whichever it is) like this that I lack, but BY GOD I will learn to cook.

Anyway, my dinner was tasty and I've been holed up in my apartment for 25.5 hours and really don't want to leave until Orchestra starts back up on Thursday. Thanks to the stocked pantry and a pretty sweet gig that allows me to be able to do my job from home, I think that is a very possible, probable and guaranteed possibility. The only thing that will, undeniably, be my breaking point is cabin fever.

Actually, what might get me out is to go to the gym. I might have to brave the cold to go get my sweat on. On the other hand, I think Sammy has the right idea here...

Hibernation is all about sleeping and staying warm. That could be a bear in cave or old cat in front of the space heater, the principle is the same and the only thing I want to do right now. That and eating my pasta.

Multi-tasking

It's hard to crochet a scarf and watch an Italian Opera. It would be easy to listen to one while working on a scarf, but watching it means glancing up often enough to read the sub titles. Never the less, I was able to multi-task and make progress on a new scarf featuring a brand new stitch (to me) - the DOUBLE crochet - and watch Don Pasquale on PBS.

If being a dork was an Olympic sport then I'd be a contender for the gold.

I started on a new scarf because I finished Stef's scarf. Now, you might remember that I made Stef a scarf 2 years ago, but in true Stef fashion she lost it while volunteering with her AmeriCorp troop last winter at a homeless shelter. For whatever it's worth, even though she did lose it, I hope it's keeping someone warm.

She came over and picked out the buttons and now all I have to do is sew them on.

Maybe I can do that tomorrow during The News Hour with Jim Lehrer.

You skinny bitch.

Blissfully unaware of anything afoot, I was confused why my gym's parking lot was near capacity. My super secret back alley parking spot was taken, too. I hesitated only briefly - a prime spot right by the door was open. My ignorance continued.

"Man," I thought "all the elipticals are taken. It is BUSY up in here" when I walked in.

The sheer volume of people in the gym didn't tip me off to it, it was the simple detail that I didn't RECOGNIZE most of them. I know who the familiar faces are and most of the people in the gym tonight were either brand new or finally renewed their month to month membership after a 6-9 month hiatus.

It's New Years Resolutioner season.

GOD DAMMIIIIIIIIIIIIT.

Don't get me wrong. I fully appreciate making a commitment to better ones self, but can you please not do it at my gym? All you do is take up parking spaces during the coldest months of the year.

The large majority of the NYRers were just your average joes, but there was one chick, tonight, that was seriously SMOKING HOT. Her body was compact, long and tone. She didn't jiggle when we did ANY of the moves. Not even her tits. Trust me - I was watching. While I on the other hand have everything jiggle when I jog in place. Even my armpits. I am not kidding.

Hot Chick and I chatted it up after class and she eventually confessed that she hadn't been to a gym in 10 years.

I hate you Hot Chick. I HATE YOU!!!!!!!!!! You hadn't even broken a fucking sweat and here I am toweling off as we speak. Die in a fire.

Ok - not reeeeeeeeeeallly. I don't actually hate you, but I do believe it's annoying and a smidge on the unfair side.

It all works out in the end, thought, because my hair is better than yours.

You skinny bitch.

Happy New Year

I hosted an impromptu new years eve gathering. A small handful of us had no set plans, really, so I made a few snacks and bought a couple bottles of champange and invited them to ring in the new year with me. This way I got to drink and be merry in my own home AND claim title to having thrown at least 2 New Years parties in less than one calendar year.

The Iranian new year is celebrated on the first day of Spring. Makes a little more sense if you think about it - new life, end of winter.... earth awakening.... but whatever - celebrating it in the dead of winter if fine too. I guess it doesn't really make that big of difference, especially in Kansas City. I mean, this past spring - the day of my party, we got 8 inches of snow. And just this past Thursday (new years eve eve) there was a high of 61 degrees. That's Kansas City weather for ya.

I'm officially out of material when I've succumbed to talking weather on my blog. Happy New Year (if you celebrate this one).