Reflections on "Star Wars: Episode II - Attack of the Clones"

I wanted to share these thoughts while this movie was so fresh in everyone's minds. Strike while the iron is hot, that has always been my motto. I say it all the time, ask anyone.

Anyway, I didn't care for this movie much. I only saw it a couple of times I think. I just found the romance between Anakin and Padme too obnoxious and stupid. In all the scenes on Naboo, for instance, if she is telling him they can never be together, why is she dressed like that? Her words say no, but her clothes say yes! And then, after all that, as soon as they are facing certain death she tells him that she loves him; "Truly, deeply, effervescently, spastically" I think were her words.

Why? Why in the world does she love him? So far all he has done is whine. (Which, I guess, is pretty common in young jedi. Remember the dulcet tones of the whining Luke? "But I was going into Tashi's Station to pick up some power converters!!" Ha ha ha! It makes me laugh every time I think of it.) Yep, Anakin is a big fat whiner, which women apparently find irresistible.

And another thing: Many Star Wars fans wanted to kill Jarjar Binks after Episode I. So it was promised that he would only have a minor role in the 2nd movie, and true to the promise, he was only in a couple of scenes. However, C3PO seems to take his place as annoying side-kick. His lines surpass my threshold for cheesiness. If you don't know what I'm talking about, then count yourself lucky. (For example, C3PO's head is being dragged along the ground and he actually says "Oh, What a drag!")

The way Yoda talks seems to be way over the top in this one too. I think I preferred Yoda when he was a tiny, crazy old weirdo living in Dagobah.

That is all I got. But I just saw this video on this nice person's blog, which I thought was pretty great.



And that, my friends, is the end. Oh, geez, and in case anyone had forgotten, I am a giant dork, which this post demonstrates nicely. "Dulcet tones"? Who talks like that?

Understanding Women: Part 3

In case you are just joining us, a number of real men were asked what things women do that they find the most difficult to understand. (If you have missed previous entries in this series, you can see them here and here.)

One very common response was: Crying for No Good Reason.

So lets address this, shall we?

Silly men. Women don't cry for no reason. She always has a reason. And believe me, it’s a good one. Getting her to tell you what that is may be nigh impossible however, so let me enlighten you.

Here are 10 of the most likely reasons she is crying:

1. She has just heard some very sad news about someone that she may or may not know.
2. She is filled with happiness and joy.
3. To get her way, or to punish you.
4. The possibility that it might rain and ruin her unborn daughter’s wedding reception.
5. She is watching Extreme Makeover Home Addition.
6. She just burned the lasagna and your mother is coming to dinner.
7. She heard a sad song on the radio.
8. She’s pregnant.
9. She’s not pregnant.
10. A very real but intangible reason she cannot name even to herself.

The most likely reason though, and the one that you should always try to remember is this:

Probably because of something you did.

So this is it

I have a cold. I am pretty angry about it, and it saps my inspiration. So when i try to think of something to write, all I get is this catchy little rap running through my mind that goes "I ain't got no inspiration. I ain't got no inspiritation!" Yeah, the rapper in my head can't spell. But there is a dance that goes along with it. It's pretty good.

Poll Results: In which we address a serious issue, and I use way more colons than is necessary.

Do you mind if strangers (or others that you don't know about) read your blog?
Not at all! Please do! - 5 votes
Yeah, Kind of - 3 votes
I guess not - 3 votes


I was a bit surprised by the results of this poll. The majority of the world (because that is what polls tell us: what the world thinks) are happy to have readers of all kinds to their blog. But there are those who aren't totally jazzed to have strangers reading about their lives, and others who feel that it is downright wrong; An invasion of privacy.

To those who feel that way: I have some bad news for you. People are reading your blog. I can guarantee it. These could be total strangers, but more likely they are people you know, or people that know your husband, or know a friend of yours, or maybe even a friend of a friend and now they are reading your blog. And they probably won't ever tell you about it. It is possible they feel a little guilty, like they are reading your private journal, but they are always able to reason that if you really didn't want them to read it, you wouldn't publish it on the internet for all the world to see. And they are gonna keep on reading.

(There are also people who feel that they don't care who is reading their blog, as long as they post a comment to let them know, but that ain't gonna happen either. Most readers are shy: I am going to use this totally made up statistic and say that only 1 in 8 readers ever posts a comment.)

So, if you really don't want strangers or mystery people reading your blog, you are just going to have to go private. I'm sorry: but that is just the way it is:::

Where what?

A couple nights ago we went to Chuck E. Cheese. I wanted a night out and some family time, and Chuck's provided both.

And, no, I don't have any pictures. My camera stopped working. Well, it FUNCTIONS, but it no longer takes good pictures. You might be thinking to yourself, Maybe YOU no longer take good pictures, to which I would respond that that is absurd. You might also being thinking to yourself: Why doesn't she just get to the point? Why does she have to go off on these tangents? Why can't she just say what she came here to say and then leave us in peace?? And if that is what you are thinking, all I can tell you is: Don't worry. You're not alone.

So I called Richard at work to ask him to meet us there. He said he ate a huge lunch and wasn't really hungry. I said "So, would you rather go another day?" and he said "No. It's not like anyone goes to Chuck E. Cheese for their pizza."

But the pizza was amazing! Granted, I was hungry, but Richard ate more than I did, so that should tell you something. Lately I am a Papa John's girl. All the other pizza is pretty mediocre in comparison, but this pizza really was fantastic.

And Harrison was mesmerized by it all (except the pizza). We sat in the "Theatre Section", in front of the stage where the animatronics perform. They are the same plastic robot characters that were there when I was a kid: Chuck - a giant mouse, some kind of bird/human hybrid pep-squad-type-girl thing, a purple gorilla named Munch, a hillbilly, banjo playing dog, and an Italian Chef. Most of them seemed a little listless, had at least one lazy eye and made huge amounts of noise when they moved or blinked, but for the most part, looked way better than I would have expected after all these years. And Harrison couldn't keep his eyes off them. They sang a bunch of 80's songs (including one called "There's a Little Bit of 80's In All of Us" which seemed pretty ironic, and made me laugh) and we couldn't help but sing along. There really is nothing like dinner and a show.

Then we ran around to the token rides and games. Harrison loved to sit in the cars, but only if we didn't put a token in to make them vibrate around. As soon as they turned on he wanted to get out. I tried to climb into one of the cars with him, so he wouldn't be scared, but that is when I learned that when they say "Chuck E. Cheese's: Where a kid can be a kid!" they are referring to actual children, not to the inner child in all of us like I previously thought. There was a brief moment when I was wedged in that miniature ice cream truck, that I thought it was all over for me.

Anyhoo, Ice Cream truck incident aside, Chuck E. Cheese is the FUN ZONE!

Continuing with the unrelated thoughts, as previously referred to, earlier.

I need new glasses. And contacts. Especially contacts. I'll explain why another day. So I decided that Shopko was just the place for me and I called and made an appointment for an eye exam. And I went to my eye exam. I find that it is very helpful to attend appointments after I schedule them. Especially if I want the services they are providing. It wouldn't do me any good, for instance, to set an appointment and then not go it. That would not yield the desired results. In fact, it would just be madness. Madness!!

The eye exam receptionist told me to wait in the super comfy metal chairs and the doctor would be right with me. And, in fact, he came out in about a minute and smiled. But I am pretty sure my smile was more of a grimace because he was about a head shorter than me, and at least 10 years younger. Seriously, if I had seen him at the grocery store, I would have thought he was in high school.

So at first I thought that maybe he was like the Doogie Howser of Optometry, and I was going to ask him how young he was when he graduated from highschool, but then it occurred to me that probably I am just old. Phooey.

As I towered over him in the tiny eye exam chair, I thought about how I am going to have to start getting used to being older than people: my doctors, my bishops, my boss. And, probably, I should start calling them all "son", which might really freak them out, and would be no end of fun.

More of those unrelated thoughts that I mentioned before

I didn't want to overwhelm you with a super long post, so I decided to break it up into short, manageable segments. Hmmm. Now, what in the world was I going to write about?

A couple of days ago I made a trip to the thrift store to drop some stuff off. And it made me happy. It always makes me happy. I really like getting rid of stuff. Sometimes I feel suffocated with clutter, but it is so hard for me to get rid of, so when I actually manage to find stuff that I am willing to part with, I am overjoyed.

I had no intention of going in. What good could possibly come of it? But when Harrison realized that we weren't stopping he got very, very angry, until he finally convinced me that the best course of action was a quick trip through the store in the shopping cart. (He would be in the shopping cart, not me. Though they should offer Shopping Cart rides. I would take one! Especially if it is was fast and dangerous! Cuz that's how I roll.)

So, into the store we went. I tried to look at some clothes - Harrison needs some new pants - but it was futile. Some thrift stores probably have good stuff, but here, with all the students who make sure they always "use it up" & "wear it out" BEFORE they donate it, and all of the students who depend on thrift stores to provide their every earthly possession, the chances of finding anything good are exactly 538 to 1. So I gave up and we went to the toy section. I let Harrison get out of the cart and go to town on the toys, and I looked at the purses.

And Harrison fell in love with a stuffed Elmo. I tried to take it away when it was time to leave, but he hugged it and kissed it and wouldn't let go. So I gave in. And then I saw the same doll in better shape, and when I squeezed its tummy it sang the Sesame Street song in its cute little Elmo voice. I said to Harrison "Oh! Let's get the one that works!" (At this, little alarms went off in the back of my head, but I ignored them. Dumb alarms. Who needs 'em?) So we managed to walk out of there with Elmo, a purse for me, and a very nice copy of "Northanger Abbey" all for only $5.00. Part of me hated knowing that I had just bought stuff to fill up the space I made in my life by getting rid of the stuff I JUST dropped off, but really, what choice did I have?

And oh, how Harrison loves the Elmo. He hugs it and kisses it like he never does me. I let him take it to bed with him last night, and Elmo sang him to sleep. All was well, until 5:30 this morning, when I woke with a start to hear Elmo, blasting through the baby monitor, singing his little song over and over. And over. Never a peep out of Harrison. He just pressed Elmo's tummy over and over, for the next 20 minutes until he fell back asleep again. I cried softly into my pillow. Richard snored away. The song haunted me. Even now, if I close my eyes I think i can still hear it.

So, now I am facing the dilemma every mother must face at some point: is it wrong to brutally maul and incapacitate my child's very best friend in the whole world?

A few unrelated thoughts, with lots of parentheses

- Yesterday I had to return something to Walmart. I didn't have a receipt, but I wasn't going to let that stop me (though our Walmart has instituted a 3-receiptless-returns-in-a-six-month-period policy. Yeah, the name is long, but it gets their point across.) So I went and stood in line. (Has anyone seen that SNL skit about the Target Cashiers? It always runs through my mind when I am at Walmart.) They had two registers open and at the one on the left there was a squirrely looking kid and his very pregnant wife trying to return a Playstation 3. They said it was because it "didn't work". So the customer service lady opened the box, and there was no controller. That was enough to convince her. She kept saying "Yeah, it won't work without a controller. You have to have a controller." She said it to everyone. A guy (maybe it was the manager) came to look the unit over and said, "There is no Hard Drive." (And I wanted to point out to the manager that THAT was probably why it wasn't working. He might not have known.) Then he said, "The serial number is gone." To which the squirrely kid replied "That is the way it came".
Things were definitely getting good, but at this point I finished my business and had to leave. So I cannot tell you how this story ended. I can't even really guess. Walmart can be pretty surprising with their return policy sometimes. I know a guy who returned a cd that his dog had chewed on, claiming that it "didn't work". It was pretty obvious it had been attacked by a dog, but Walmart replaced it anyway.

The reason I have called you here.....

So, let us discuss the sacrament. Or rather, let you sit and read while I ramble about some sacrament related thing.

It makes me laugh. Harrison LOVES it. If we are sitting in the back, as soon as the deacons start passing the sacrament Harrison starts pointing at them and making the "I want" noise. He gets pretty insistent. It requires all my powers of persuasion to convince him that the kid wearing the huge tie and carrying the tray full of bread really will bring it to us eventually. And then I have to do it all over again with the water. If I am not convincing enough, he will cry. We try not to sit in the back if we can help it.

So then the sacrament comes. I take a piece of bread for me and a piece for Harrison and pass the tray on. I eat my piece, and Harrison nibbles away at his. I try to get him small pieces, but they are never small enough and he will usually get full half way through and set his piece down for a while.

Same thing happens with the water. You know how big those cups are. You know how much water they hold. About a teaspoon worth, at most. Barely a sip. Hardly enough to wet your mouth. And Harrison will nurse his forever. He will throw his head back and gulp and gulp and when he pulls the cup away it is still half full! How is that possible? It almost always takes him at least four or five good pulls to empty his cup. Kids are weird. They can eat almost nothing and make it seem like a feast.

Good grief, no wonder he is so small. I am going to start recommending the Harrison diet to all those who ask me. (What? People ask me. Don't look so surprised!) Here it is:
Breakfast: Three cheerios
Lunch: No more than 10 noodles with carrots
Dinner: Milk
If you find you are still hungry after all that you can lick the peanut butter off a piece of bread for a snack. Healthy and Delicious!!

Another Saturday night and I ain't got no body.

Today we went to the grocery store. It is the very hippest place to be on a Saturday night. Everybody who is anybody was there. That is alot of bodies. So, we shopped, Richard, Harrison and I. It is always kind of fun to shop with Richard, though we always come out with lots more treats than we planned. So, we went to the checkout, pushing Harrison along in his gigantic cart, and the checkout lady smiled at us all and waved at Harrison and said "How old is your guy?" And I replied, "He's 37." And continued to put the food on the conveyor belt. She must not have really heard me, because she said "And what's his name?" I was about to say "Richard", but I started giggling and I couldn't stop. The checkout lady looked confused and asked what I was laughing about, and Richard kindly explained to her that I thought I was hilarious and was pretending that she was asking about him, and was going to tell her his name, etc. Ha. Ha. While he explained all this she rang us up and I paid, though I couldn't look at her. I was just getting control of myself again while the bagger finished bagging up the items and then she said to Harrison, "Hi Cutie! How are you?" And Richard said "Oh I'm doing just fine!"

Dr. Horrible's Sing-a-long Blog

So, do you wanna see what Joss Whedon worked on during the Writer's Strike? Maybe you already know. But, NO. You couldn't have known, because if you did, surely you would have TOLD ME! I only just found out. Richard bought it for me on DVD, because Joss Whedon is My Master Now, and all that.

This is just Part 1 of Act 1. It is 7 and 1/2 minutes long. The whole thing is about 45 minutes long and you can watch it here. I especially recommended this to some of you imparticular. It is about an evil genius who wants to take over the world, and it is a musical. So, you know who you are. You really ought to watch it.



But, SPOILER ALERT!!!

It doesn't have a happy ending. Sorry to ruin it. But I kinda wish that I had been warned, so I had to do right by you. Hope you can forgive me.