I know I’m always ranting about crappy movies, but, seriously???

Who in the hell thought it would be okay to make a movie with this title: ‘Abraham Lincoln; Vampire Killer’? What empty, soulless, money-hungry demon of Hollywood said, “I know, let’s just go ahead and admit to the world that we have no stories left in us.”?

I mean, should I even go on? This is pitiful on so many levels. I do plan to watch the remake of ‘The Three Stooges’, just because I can appreciate the Farrelly Brothers’ sense of respect for the trio. I didn’t watch ‘Footloose’ (which felt like blasphemy). This, however, goes way too far. If they need decent writers, I would be happy to help them out with a screenplay. In fact, I have a project in mind, that might sell without turning a historical figure into Buffy (Kristy Swanson or Sarah Michelle Gellar; take your pick; they both sucked), for God’s sake.

I might as well start at the beginning. I went to see ‘The Dicatator’ tonight (Sacha Baron Cohen is our Peter Sellers; he is the funniest man alive). Mixed in with the regular previews for movies that make a tiny bit of sense, was this visually stunning preview for a movie with Abraham Lincoln. I thought it was going to be about John Wilkes Boothe, or the Civil War, so I thought I might watch it. Then, the title flashed…

I hope they sick him on Twilight, so we can kill two horrible ideas with one top-grossing stone.


“Hump Day”

Of course, I always thought the term was pretty funny, as a kid, in a pre-pubescent, dirty-ish way. (Insert Peter Griffin laugh, here), ahh “hump day”. Now, I get so thrilled when Wednesday is over. The week shortens, immediately, in my mind. I breathe a sigh of welcome relief. Only a couple more days to go, until Friday night.

In fact, Wednesday is almost like a mini Friday night for me. I let my hair down and start to unwind in anticipation of the lazy couple of days with my daughter and her dad.

Clocking in on Monday, the week stretches ahead of you, like an endless wind tunnel of horror. A faulty one (much like the very pricey “Big Dig”, fellow New Englanders), who might hurl chunks of your hard-earned tax money at you for your efforts.

Clocking out on Wednesday, the week narrows down to a big backyard with the evening fireflies dancing a scene of Sugar Plum Fairies around  the beatific three-year-old who welcomes them to her ranks. Yes, folks, your ‘hump day’ is my glimpse at freedom. For a couple of sun-filled, windowless days, anyhow.

TV: The Modern Mom’s Understudy

How often do you plop your kid(s) in front of the television with a favorite show or movie to keep them occupied while you get stuff done (dinners cooked, dishes washed, laundry folded, and what-have-you)? Don’t feel bad. I’m rather guilty of it, myself. I’m pretty quick to turn on some Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, just so I can start supper. It only works for so long, though, until my daughter is back up and under my feet where I can’t cross the kitchen without tripping over or stepping on her. If I’m trying to write; well; TV only holds up for about 47 seconds, or so. I basically have to leave the house to do this.

I’m starting to get really concerned, however, about the actual amount of television she is watching and (particularly these days, as I was of the “television rots your brain” era) what sordid scenes she’s exposed to. It can’t be a healthy amount, or helpful for her mind and self-esteem. It’s enough to make me think that I need to change these practices, altogether. Perhaps the answer is to involve her, more,  in my chores and obligations. It would serve to keep her out of harm’s way, teach her how to accomplish basic household tasks, and build up her confidence while allowing the two of us to spend more time together.

Hmmm…methinks there will be a follow-up to this blog. It’s time to implement some of these thoughts to improve the quality of our lives and our relationship. I’m going to start now, and I’ll write more next Monday on this particular topic. Meanwhile, I want you other Moms and Dads to think twice before automatically sitting your kid(s) down in front of the TV every time you need a few minutes of peace. After all, we can’t always substitute their favorite characters for our own presence.

Life may be a bitch, but…

…I tend to think that’s exactly what makes it so fun.

I alternately love/hate my life, as does most of the population. It’s up; it’s down; it’s beautiful; it’s loathsome; it’s fatal; it’s vivacious; it’s serene; it’s complicated. It’s amazing; all of it; really. A lot of people take life for granted. They want things to be easier, but then, when things are easier, those same people can never be content with their own complacency and settle, eventually, for seeking out the excitement that makes up the innate tug-of-war that is human existence. The give-and-take measures us, just as our love, our knowledge, our hope, and our generosity, do.

They think that theirs are the only lives that mean anything and, for their tiny scope and little bitty parcel of World, that is true. In the grand measure of things, however, we all fall miserably short of what really matters. It’s onlytruly relevant, if it’s relevant to you?

Well, pardon my French(ish), but, who the fuck are YOU? Who, for that matter, the fuck am I??

If I don’t know you, I don’t want to hear your life story in the checkout aisle and I assume the same, in the reverse. Nonetheless, I will grin like the cheschire cat at your kid, just to let him/her know that grownups can be okay, every now and again. Just to let them know that they matter. 

Most people don’t care about other peoples’ kids. Other peoples’ kids are other peoples’ problems, and all that jazz. First of all, they’re NOT problems; period. Second of all; too many people don’t care about their own kids, and it’s our job, as role models, in general, to always remain positive influences in the lives of others; children and adults, alike. My livelihood is to teach other peoples’ kids, and I can’t imagine anything more rewarding. Just as, with my own daughter, life is hard and crazy and spectacular; every day with those kids, presents challenges I never dreamed would occur, spontaneous little outbursts of crazy, and hardships aplenty.

There are things that jolt you, things that wake you from the dreamland of your boring every-day, to pull you into the absolute perfect balance of our lives. They may not be my kids, technically, but they are my kids, in every other way. Each day is full of stupid, mundane, little nerve-racking annoyances and, at the end of every single day, I sit at home with my one daughter and my boring television, or book, or chess game against the computer and think; What a great/terrible/crazy/awesome day, that was. All of the little things melt away, like a bad dream, and only the good of the day remains, in the smells on my shirt, in the smile on my face, and in the purity of my heart, kept young, forever, like the mythical Peter Pan, who also surrounded himself with the only love that counts. The love of your children.

Thanks, for reading. Sorry, I’ve been such a slacker.