Thirty Before Thirty - The Official Unveil

This girl – that’s right, THIS girl (see photo above)– is about to be thirty freaking years old.
Well, twenty-nine, but I can see youth in my rear view waving at me, wearing a two-piece and a pair of big, Paris Hilton shades, carrying around a coffee from Starbucks and a twenty dollar bill. No worries, no responsibilities. Youth is carefree and capricious. Youth goes out on Friday
night and comes home Monday morning. Youth sleeps in makeup and spends $98 on a pair of jeans.

Youth has a waistline.
I’m really going to miss that bitch.
But (and let’s face it, it is ME, after all), if I’m going out, I’m going out with a big, fat bang. So, to commemorate my big 2-9 and the 365 days prior to my turning 30, I have compiled a list of the thirty things I want to do before I’m 30: my THIRTY BEFORE THIRTY. One year to complete thirty adventures: some small and silly, some big and outrageous, but every single one of them is a piece of me and a goal I can check off of my life list. Some will require the assistance of the people I love the very, very most in this life (and, duh, that’s kind of the point). Some are solitary undertakings (again,
kind of the point). All of them will be thoroughly blogged, illustrated and videoed.... Okay, well maybe not videoed, but so far Santa is deaf to my pleas for a flip camcorder so it’s not really my fault. If he comes through for me between now and March of 2013, I won’t have to tell you. You’ll see it. I’ll tape every damn thing. No sooner, no later.

Fail, South Carolina Public Education System!

My local movie theater is airing a series of recorded Shakespearean plays filmed at the Globe Theater in London on a once-a-month basis. Merry Wives of Windsor was first, I believe.
"I can't wait to see that." I told Moop.
He exchanged a glance with My Nephew and they both said, "Um, you'll probably need to go see that with your English Teacher Aunt."
Oh, damn. I forgot. No one gets blown up in Merry Wives of Windsor. And there's no Megan Fox.
So, I called the theater to get the dates and show times for subsequent plays. This is a verbatim transcript of that conversation. My comments are pink, because I love pink.

Thank you for calling The Movie Theater, this is Moron.
Hey Moron, I was calling to see if you could give me the dates for the Shakespearean plays you guys are showing once a month.
Oh, right. Plays. Um..... [lots of chewing in the phone, I assume it was gum] Right, here they are. It looks like the next one is on August 1 at 7:30pm.
Great. Which play is it?
Um, Henry. Part One.
Henry the Eighth?
Just Henry. Well, Henry and an eye and a vee, but I'm not sure what that is... It looks like Part Two is at the end of August and Henry and the vee-eye-eye-eye is playing in September.
Sweetie, those are Roman numerals.
Is that like a number?
You could say that, yes.

Happy Mother's Day!

If you wear your stretch marks like biker tattoos that gain you access to the coolest club in the world, TODAY IS YOUR DAY. So put your feet up, break out the ice cream and make the rest of the people in your house attend your beck and call.
I like to clap to get their attention ;)

Happy Mother's Day!

Seven and Eight, Lay Them Straight...

My humble apologies for leaving you hanging yesterday. I know you were dying to know my pick for best onscreen couple.

Day Seven - Best onscreen couple
Edward and Bella?
Ron and Hermione?
Carrie and Big?
Emma Thompson and Hugh Grant in Sense and Sensibility (which is, embarrassingly enough, one of my favorite films)

Day Eight - Best Comedy Actor / Actress

John Cleese

Tina Fey.

Pick up sticks, it's MOVIE day six!

Day Six - Best Fight Scene



The zero gravity affair in Inception (otherwise known as "the movie that made everyone in American feel like a moron") with the guy from Third Rock From the Sun.
Honorable Mention: the end of Super Troopers when Grady and O'Hagan throw down while "Big Bear" is playing in the background.

And, in the spirit of cinema, this is the conversation that just took place in my crib:

Me: "OMG, only two more days!"
Moo: "Until?"
Me: "The ROYAL WEDDING!"
Moo: "Jeez..."
Big: "Mama, what's a royal wedding?"
Me: "It happens when a normal girl, just like you, falls in love with a prince and they get MARRIED and she gets to be a princess. Which hardly EVER happens and it's wonderful! You could be a princess some day!"
Moo: "You sound like Walt Disney."

Movie Journey Day FIVE!

Day Five - Best Car Chase Scene

I should probably say Steve McQueen in...You fill in the blank. But, I was born in 1983 and, having been born at the height of children's entertainment, I will say...

The first Transformers movie + anything related to Bumblebee = awesome

Bumblebee is my favorite Transformer. He was my favorite Transformer in 1987 and, when I saw the movie in 2009 (I think I waited for it to come out on DVD), all of the affection just came rushing back.

When the dumb girl says, "I'll drive, you shoot" after she hooks him up to the tow truck because his legs are damaged, I am not too big to admit that I got misty-eyed.
Over the summer, I agreed to let Big watch portions of the movie that did not involve gratuitous machine vs. human violence (which I know is, like, less than five minutes of the total film) and she fell just as hard for the Bee as I did.
"I weally wuv him, Mama... The Bumblebee one."

Morbid Conversations About Planter's Nuts

I am fairly certain that only the best conversations between a committed man and a committed woman (just to clarify, committed to ONE ANOTHER) happen after midnight, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.
"What would you do if I died?" Moo asked me Friday, as we piled in together and snuggled under a too-small comforter I got a really great deal on at Target.
It was just after one a.m. Calling that "late for us" would be an understatement, but it's nice every once in a while to feel like a kid again and giggle with friends and tell embarrassing stories on the front porch late into the evening.
"Why are you asking me this?" I hiccuped in response, but I knew the why behind it before I even asked the question.
We lost someone this week - and I use the term 'we' only in the communal, cosmic sense. In my town, in my age bracket, a parent, a productive member of society, and a victim of needless violence. It was all over the news, all over Facebook and... Well, it gives you pause, really, whether you knew him on a personal level or passed him in the checkout line at the grocery store.
Death is a real thing. A living, breathing reminder of the transient nature of our lives that lurks in corners and snatches without mercy or understanding.
"I don't know." The Mood yawned. "I just feel like we should talk about it."
He's probably right. But, you have to admit, it doesn't really come up in conversation all that much.
"Hey, did you want to see a movie tonight? And FYI - what should I do with you when you die? Do you really need a funeral?"
I rolled over onto my side and faced him in the darkness, his fighter pilot/apnea mask sucking air in and pushing it out.
"I'd have you cremated and I'd put you on the mantel."
"Is that what you want me to do with you?"
"Yeah. And I don't need a funeral. Just have a party with a keg or something, and a band." I laughed and sank down into my pillow.
"You would say that."
We settled in to silence and I let myself quietly sink off to a sleep with dreams that included laughing at My Teacher Friend who was being chased by a woman with a bag of potatoes and meeting Sean Connery on a bus in New York City.
"What do you want me to put you in?" Moo piped up, like, a full ten minutes later.
Made me wonder how much thought he was really putting into my demise...
"My ashes? I don't care. A vase or something. A nice one."
"That's weird. What if my next wife doesn't like it? She might think it's creepy."
What the-
"Well my next husband may find it equally as creepy that I'll be keeping your ass in a vase."
"You wouldn't get married again.. And I don't want to be in a vase. I want to be in a Planter's cashew can... Not an Aldi one - an actual Planter's can."
My, we're snobs in our afterlife...
"I'll try to remember that." I mumbled. "And I'm not as tied to your memory as you think I am... The minute that guy from True Blood shows up, you and your cashew can are toast."
"Fair enough. But seriously, what do you want me to put your ashes in? For real?"
Wait. Was this supposed to be a serious conversation?
I waved my arm for emphasis and said, "I don't know. Just put me in a cashew can too."
I heard the fighter pilot/apnea mask shake back and forth. "Nope. You hate cashews."
"Then put me in a Folgers can."
"You don't drink coffee. What about a wine bottle?"
"Fine. But don't cheap out on the wine."
No Aldi-brand cashew canister and no $5.99 gas station wine.
"Alright. Then what?"
I rubbed my stinging eyes and stared at the little clock on the cable box. It was now 1:15a.m. "I'm going to sleep." I told him, turning around.
"No, come one. I need to know. If you die, I put you in a wine bottle and then what?"
"You keep me until you die and then we get sprinkled somewhere together."
"Where?"
"Does it matter?"
"Um, yeah. I want to be sprinkled at the beach, but you hate the beach."
Correction - I like the beach, I love the sound of the waves, I HATE sand.
"The beach is fine." I declared, impatiently. "I'll deal with it."
I hardly think I'll have an enormous opinion about the beach, you know, being dead and all.
"Are you sure?" Moopulus questioned, reaching for my hand.
I shrugged. "Yeah. I guess it doesn't matter where we end up, as long as we end up there together."
We looked at each other.
"I love you." He told me, sounding like Darth Vadar.
"Love you back." I told him, sounding like the little guy from Oh Brother Where Art Thou - the one that knocked over the Piggly Wiggly and was forgiven when he was saved in the river. (Delmar? Was that his name?)
And then the Planter's can and the wine bottle went to sleep, for real this time, still holding hands.