This is going to be quick and short this evening, primarily because I took a Benadryl last night since my throat was itchy. I’m also fairly certain that the makers of Benadryl changed their recipe, because last night’s tablet was also known as the Anesthetic For Major Surgery pill. I woke up this morning with my throat still itching, and a full-blown, allergy-medicated haze dominating my senses, which made me want to nod off in church like the little row of elderly women sitting behind us, who snore softly through their oxygen hoses.
Plus, we were out of Coffee Mate.
As in, completely out, so I had to skip the eye-brightening cup this morning, because drinking coffee without some sort of French Vanilla or White Chocolate Cream poured into it is like trying to breath on Mars. It’s going to be painful, and in the end you’ll just wish you hadn’t gone there.
I know it’s difficult for y’all to believe, but I’m actually still clinging to the Benadryl fuzz, because that is how I roll, so I’m going to throw down some big words on a couple of Words With Friends games and head straight to bed to recover.
1. Our house this weekend was nothing short of an uncontrolled environment, that sucked thirty minutes of my time away just to clear the kitchen counters off. Plus, the laundry pile seemed to say THE DUGGARS ARE HERE! THE DUGGARS ARE HERE!, and I ran out of Tide. I’m not sure what Mrs. Duggar actually does when she runs out of Tide, but I doubt that she gets behind the wheel of her Suburban when she’s hopped up on Benadryl and makes a college stab at navigating the streets on her way to the local Wal-Mart to purchase some more. I’m also fairly certain that she doesn’t crank “Raise Your Glass” up on the iPod while she scrubs.
2. For the record, “Raise Your Glass” and “Poker Face” are the two best house-scouring songs on the charts today. I dare anyone to say otherwise. Unless, of course, your home ISN’T an uncontrolled environment, and you simply have some light dusting to do before you sit down on the settee for a plate of scones and a cup of Earl Gray. Then maybe you can get away with a solid line of romantic Taylor Swift songs on your playlist.
3. For the other record, my friend, Crystal, smacked me down with a solid push on a game of Words With Friends over the weekend. She beat me by 239 points.
As in, TWO HUNDRED! THIRTY-NINE! POINTS! I felt like the Denver Broncos did in Super Bowl XXIV, when the ’49ers kicked them down, 55 to 10. (Don’t ask me how I even remember that score, but listen. In sixteen years of marriage, I have been BOMBARDED with the Bronco Trivia.) I may never recover emotionally or socially from that WWF game against her, and still I accepted the challenge to play another game.
4. And then? In a game that wasn’t against Crystal, I laid down the word ZOOMED this last week. I put it on some fancy gold squares for triple word points, and I walked away with 120 points for that single word. That, y’all, was a WORD VICTORY. And you know what else? Right after ZOOMED, I threw down JINXED for 114 points. That was known as WORD VICTORY FOLLOWUP. Plus, it had a subtitle of GAME SEALER. And then, in my game with Crystal, I managed to spell out HE and ME and TAB and (Sit down for this high roller!) STY. I’m simply clinging to the hope that I can recognize the letters in the English alphabet and know what to do with them in this next game against Crystal.
5. On Thursday night, Hubs and I got together with several friends for a Couples Night at the Theater evening. And really, that’s just a fancy title for We All Got Sitters and Went to the Show Together. The guys all decided to see the new Planet of the Apes, and let me tell you this one thing: You know the very dirtiest truck stop bathroom that you’ve ever had the displeasure of stopping at? The one where the toilet was streaked with black and filth that only the Good Lord knew the chemical make-up of? The one where you couldn’t see your reflection in the mirror, because the mirror was caked with grime and filth? The one where you HOVERED over the toilet, without coming into any real contact with it, until your quads burned with the fire of Muscle Fatigue? The one where you had to take the key that was chained to a metal trashcan lid, which you got from the cashier, so that you could unlock the door? Yeah, THAT bathroom. I would rather CLEAN THAT BATHROOM (with my rubber gloves on, of course!) than sit through a movie about giant monkeys. Thankfully, the girls separated from the menfolk, and we went to see Crazy, Stupid Love, which was slow, but worth a lot of giggles, because sweet mercy! Michael Scott! He makes me laugh just by walking onto the screen. But before our movie started, the previews for the BRAND SPANKING NEW Footloose movie were shown, and I was sucked in. I’m there, people. I’m having a hard time coming to grips with the fact that I have now lived long enough to have a movie from my teenage years REMADE, and since there’s nothing better on the big screen than Kevin Bacon and his angry dance in the abandoned warehouse, I’m all over seeing Footloose Remade. I began to envision the soundtrack from it all over again, which I had on VINYL, people! Because that was back in the day when my stereo HAD A RECORD PLAYER on the top of it! I immediately leaned over in my seat and whispered, “I’m there! October 14th release date! Here we come!”
And that’s when Amy leaned back and said, “Sister, absolutely NOT! I’d rather see Planet of the Apes than endure Ren McCormick and his dance action again.” Have I ever told you that Amy tends to be a bit dramatic? And that I love her anyway? I appealed my case to Heather, and she simply shook her head and giggled and said, “I’m going to play my Get Out of Jail Free card on that one, honey. Pass! But I love you!”
Apparently they’re not alone with their obnoxious feelings toward Footloose, Round Two, because I found a tweet on the Twittter yesterday which seemed to back them up. And yes, I can navigate Twitter to some extent, even though I am not a self-proclaimed Tweeter, but when I was looking for a friend’s post, I accidentally happened upon a random stranger’s Twitter page as she was talking about the debt ceiling, and this is what I read: “The only way I think I can relay my disappointment with our government right now would be to show you the trailer for the Footloose remake.”
I don’t know what all these girls are thinking! Footloose is a classic!
Thankfully, I know that Amy M. (not to be confused with Just Amy) will go. She and I have a history together of being fully on board for FANTASTIC movies filled with teenage angst and drama that get cheesy ratings from the critics. It’s what keeps us forever young inside. Amy M. and I will be there, on October 14th, with tubs of buttery popcorn, and when Footloose, The New Generation scoops up the award for Best Picture at the Academy Awards, we’ll see who’s laughing the hardest.
And that, people, is where I’m going to leave you tonight, because I’m still trying to wear off a Benadryl hangover, and the only way I think I’m going to be successful at this is with a nine-hour nap.
Happy Sunday night.