Sometimes disappointments can run very deep.
Last night, after spending entirely too much time in manual labor, painting STILL MORE closet doors (For the love of all that is holy! How MANY doors do we have in this house? And who decided that we needed all of these rooms with all of these doors when he built this house, anyway?), I was all prepared to crawl into bed and watch a Lifetime movie. I couldn’t remember the name of it (because names of movies escape me every day of my life now, which is just a little tell-tale sign that the Alzheimer’s and the locked wing of the nursing home is not far off), but I was excited about it (the movie; not the Alzheimer’s), because it promised SAPPINESS and ROMANCE and REUNITING BROKEN FAMILIES TO WHOLENESS. And that, people, is THE trifecta that makes a movie a good one.
Hubs and the boy were downstairs, watching a BRAND NEW episode of Hunting Big Foot, because apparently they will never learn that no episode — brand new, middle-of-the-season, or season finale — will end with an eight-foot tall monkey taken into captivity. I crawled into bed, and I turned the TV on, and this is what I discovered. Apparently the movie I was interested in is on sometime in MARCH. And this is February, which meant HELLO, NOTHING GOOD TO WATCH LAST NIGHT. I flipped through the channels like a person who was overwhelmed with ADD, and I stopped at the Academy Awards long enough to see that INDEED! Some crazy film I’d never even heard of won Best Picture.
And let’s talk about THAT.
When was the last time that a movie involving SAPPINESS and ROMANCE and REUNITING BROKEN FAMILIES TO WHOLENESS was nominated for an Academy Award? I’d like to say NEVER. Because what usually gets nominated is a film that would bore me to tears if I had to sit in front of it for two entire hours. Most of the movies couldn’t even lure me to the theater with the promise of TWO bags of butter with popcorn swimming in them.
Hubs and I did see Moneyball at the theater, and I did like it, but (spoiler alert) it ended unhappily because I just wanted Brad Pitt to take his baseball team to the final game of the World Series and win it in a big way. When I told this to Hubs as we left the theater, he said, “Honey, it was based on a true story, and you can’t change an unhappy ending into a fairy tale ending and expect it to portray the truth.” No, but you could do it and expect your female audience to be MUCH happier with the outcome.
And then I know that Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close was nominated, too, and I really DID want to see that one because OH, SANDRA BULLOCK! You make me happy in the movies! But then the boy’s good friend, Bek, went with his mama to see it, and his mama, who is one of my favorite people and who happens to have a very strong Russian constitution and can watch movies completely tear-free and without engaging in the ugly cry EVER, told me in her beautiful accent, “I sobbed in that movie. It broke my heart, and I cried my eyes out, and Bek and I both left the theater with puffy, red eyeballs.” And THAT, people, pretty much sealed the deal for me that I wouldn’t be seeing that one at the cinema, because knowing that Bek’s mom wept translates into me DYING OF SADNESS AMIDST A TORRENT OF HYSTERICAL CHOKING SADNESS right there in my dirty movie theater seat, because I am the one who will even cry in a good Hallmark commercial on TV. But still, I would have cast my vote for this one to win, because OH, SANDRA BULLOCK! You do deserve another Oscar to decorate your fireplace mantel, right there beside gorgeous black-and-white photos of little Louis.
And that is really a lot of words to tell y’all that the only thing good about the Academy Awards is the fact that I can look at the formal gowns and say, “Hmm. THAT ONE is very interesting.”
And also it was a lot of words to tell y’all that apparently when I see a movie advertised on the Lifetime channel, I get it stuck in my head that YES! IT WILL BE ON THIS COMING SUNDAY NIGHT! when what Lifetime really means is NO! IT WILL DEBUT ON A SUNDAY NIGHT IN MARCH SOMETIME!
I think this is why I do not work in the advertising department for the Lifetime Channel.
And let’s talk about where else I don’t work.
I do not work as a Navy SEAL.
Hubs and I had an in-depth conversation this morning about his LONGING to still be a SEAL, and I said, “Really? You would still fly overseas to a third-world country, drop out of a perfectly good airplane, hike yourself through dangerous territory decorated with terrorists, and engage in a gunfight to lay a bad guy to rest, all while you have A WIFE AND SON AT HOME?”
And Hubs, people, nodded. And then he said, “Yes. Yes, I would.”
And THAT got us hopping down another rabbit trail, because I was astonished that Hubs actually felt CAPABLE of lining up a bad guy’s beard in the scope of his gun and engaging the trigger into its entire realm of movement.
Obviously, men and women are completely different, because if Hubs got the call this morning that said, “Listen. We have a cell of terrorists holding a journalist hostage. We need you to swim the ocean in the dark with a bubbleless air tank, storm a hostile beach and shoot a bullet into a head,” Hubs would go immediately.
And I would say, “You know what? That isn’t going to work out for me right now. The boy has a dentist appointment to get his teeth cleaned at 3:15 this afternoon, and I was actually going to start a pot of chili for dinner. Plus, I’m rethinking the entire shoot a bullet into a head phrase, and I’m coming up with NO.”
And then Hubs informed me that THIS is why women should never be SEALS. And then he said that I would flunk the SEAL training, because they tie your hands behind your back, throw you into a deep pool of water, and expect you to tread water for HOURS without your hands. And all I could do is stare at the man and say, “That is ridiculous! I would panic and drown. What do they do then?”
And Hubs said, “They watch you panic and drown and realize you would never have been a good team member, and they find someone else.”
And hopefully the someone else is someone who can actually remember when the movie she wants to watch is going to be aired on TV. Because, for some reason, all I can think is that translating into a rescue date. “Oh! You’re here to rescue the journalist today? Well, that’s too bad! Because you were supposed to have rescued him A WEEK AGO LAST THURSDAY, and now he’s at the bottom of the pool, because he couldn’t tread water with his hands tied behind his back.”
I’m going to stick to being the Rodeo Queen, people. It just seems like a FRIENDLIER job to have.
Happy Monday night.