Thursday, July 1, 2010

{22-5=17, 39-22=17}= shame

June 30th.
5:15 pm (central time)
Dashed from meeting to purchase three tickets for the film event of the summer.
One for me.
One for Julie.
And one for our 11 year old beard.

What? It's opening day people! And I am grown (some might call middle aged) woman who finds herself juggling self respect and a smoosh of shame that I had to had to see it the day it was released.


Whatever.
I am still - forever in fact - Team Jacob.

Doctor Jones (shout out, Denisha!) tells me I cannot possibly care about the essence of the story - and the connection between Edward and Bella - and still identify myself as Team Jacob. She says if I cared about the story, I'd know there never could be a Team Jacob in the first place.

I told her I care about my eyesight, therefore, Team Jacob.

Not that Edward isn't dandy.





Not that Bella isn't just a lovely heroine.




Absolutely the angst of the undead and the headed to undead is well worth the price of admission.

Holy shut the front door!!!
That manboy's body is ridonkulous!!





Six pack? Nah. I think I counted eight.
Yes, I counted.
Shame.




You go see it. I dare you not to count.
The only reason to own the DVD is to paused the damn thing and COUNT!!
Maybe math can be fun?

Film ends.
We are happy and entertained.

Bella took an acting class! Good girl!
Sparkle Tits went the gym. Thank you!
When did Peter Facinelli become British?
You go, Director David Slade!!

I say silent prayer that the people adapting Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows are equally as attentive to the book (Talking to you, Director David Yates)

I returned our up past her bedtime partner in shame, flapping my gums at Julie with insightful little notices like "do you think the nine year old in front of us understood the allusions to foreplay in the training scene?" and "Edward is a cwabby vwampire when the WAY FUCKING HOTTER Jacob is keeping Bella warm on the top of Mt. Kilamongaro!"

I arrived home, kissed Lucio squaring on the lips and headed for the shower.
Evidently my kiss was a smoosh too much for a Wednesday causing Lucio to posture, "How many women your age do you think are going home for a romp with their spouses and thinking of vampires and wearwolves?"

"Does it matter?" I ask. "If it offends your masculine sensibilities that I would like to take my frustrations out on you, you can stay here and watch Brazil and I can see what Pete is doing tonight." (see Pure Romance entry)

"We can't have both?" he asks with a smile.
Gads. I love this man.

Off to the shower.
I daydream a bit while shaving...thinking of Jacobs remarkably hairless chest for a wearwolf.

And then it hit me.
He has no hair on his chest because it hasn't started growning yet.

The actor portraying Jacob is 22 years old.
I am 39 years old. What? I have a month. Shut up.

A 17 year difference. A high school diploma difference.
Uh oh.
Mean stupid math.


The actor portraying Jacob is 22 years old.
Jack is 5 years old.
A 17 year difference. A high school diploma difference.

Shudder.
Cringe.

5 minutes later I am in bed, wet hair, sensible PJ's in place, reading Faulkner's As I Lay Dying.

Lucio crawls in and looks optimistic.

Hopes dashed in an instant.

"I don't think my hearts going to be in it, honey. I did the math, and we need to go see The A Team or something to wash away the shame of it all."


All is not lost though.
Bradley Cooper and Patrick Wilson in the same movie.
39 and 35 and 37.
That oughta work.