Awkwardly Social

We were the ‘rowdy’ ones at the wedding, which is really no surprise I’m sure.

Every time someone said something, we cheered. We were really trying to up the fun level. I think some of the folks were glad they didn’t get ’stuck’ at table #6. We were a force to be reckoned with. Hey, you stick us back in the corner by the cake, you’re asking for trouble. I’m just saying.

DJ Eric Kay was all up in our grill getting song requests and then blatantly ignoring them. DJ Eric Kay also decided that it would be a good idea if we were included in all the family/ethnic dancing. The boys from table #6 had to lift up the bride and groom over their head. There was much sweating.

Monday, I cleaned my office. It is clean. I know you can’t believe it. But it is. Also, my production book for my thesis film is almost done. Just a little forgery here and bullshit there, and that fucker (two years late) is finished. Maybe they’ll give me my damned diploma now.

We put the movie in at about 10pm. Something light and netflixey. You wouldn’t want to spend the money on the rental or pay for it in the theater because, Ben Stiller. Hate. After a trip through Allie’s past via her old answering machine messages and an excursion to Cold Stone and the Panda, we had giggled enough already to make the movie laughter come easily - My accidental Ewok impression while trying to save everyone as we crossed the street to my make-shift machine gun noises that sounded more like a three-year old expressing disgust set us in just the right mood.

The movie gave us some belly laughs but I was in a reclined position, so like my mother and sister before me, I fell asleep about half-way through. Louie woke me up and told me to go to bed. I grumbled, “I’m still awake! I wanna watch it!” but realized that my bed, the most comfortable bed in the world was calling to me. I left the door cracked a bit so I could still hear their laughter filter in as I drifted back to sleep.

Sometimes I forget what it’s like to be happy. Last night felt like home.

Ok. Many have mourned the loss of the sitcom on today’s TV landscape. And I am one of those many. Growing up we had so many. Some were crap, but most were good. We had The Cosby Show, Cheers…. wait. Is that it? I’m mourning the loss of the sitcom because of two damned shows? Hmm… Later we had Friends and Seinfeld and… Jesus, there have never been that many good sitcoms on the air. People need to quit whining. Damn. Anyway, Waller told me to watch television on Friday night. He praised it highly.

First of all, Friday night? Who watches TV on Friday night? Well. Me, actually. Shut up. I don’t go out much anymore. Ever since I convinced myself I’m an alcoholic. Which segues nicely into this current discussion.

Reba. I know. I know! It’s shameful. But have you seen this show? Hilarious. The first time I watched it, I had the benefit of Waller’s explanation of who all the characters are. There are a lot of them. And their relationships can be a bit confusing if you don’t know who’s who. And now, I am convinced that this show is the best sitcom on television. Which, when you think about it, isn’t saying much because there really aren’t that many sitcoms on the air anymore. (And there never really were that many sitcoms on the air, but whatever. I’m not a scholar, shut up.)

I guess what I’m trying to say is, Reba is awesome. She has great comedic timing, the cast is terrific, and the set up is very ’sitcom’, which I don’t think is a bad thing. Reba lives next door to her ex-husband and his new wife (who incidentally is the reason they broke up, he was having an affair with her). Reba’s two daughters and son and one of her daughter’s husband and baby (who you never see… thank god… just what we need another Mary Kate and Ashley scenario) live in the same house. Hilarious hijinks ensue. Like when Cheyenne goes to AA and loves it because she finally has a place where people have to listen to her. Dude. It doesn’t sound funny because you don’t know how great she is. Watch it. Have your TiVo capture it. You won’t be sorry.

Hi. This is Bitch, Tamara’s uterus. Gentlemen… why are you still reading? You are not the addressee on this letter. Nosy.

Anyway, Tamara was telling me today that her dear readers begged for a guest blog from me. And I was all, jeez, woman, one thing at a time here. I’m kinda busy, if you hadn’t noticed. What with all the cramping and bleeding and what not. It’s, you know, my busiest time of the month, aside from ovulation. And Tamara kept yacking away about how I shouldn’t disappoint her readers and blah blah blah.

So here I am. And honestly, I don’t have a lot to say. There is a cycle of life down here, an ebb and flow. And aside from an occasional visit to the gyno not much out of the ordinary happens. And even then, it’s the cervix that gets all the action.

People try to tell Tamara that my neighbors to the north, “the sacred ovaries” should be kickin’ it into high gear about now and if Tamara doesn’t use me for baby makin’ they’ll shrivel up and die. But I’d like to go on record and say, if I never get stretched to baby-sized proportions, it will be too soon for me. I want to keep my nice shape and not have baby juice all icking up the place down here. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I serve at the pleasure of the President (that’s what the three of us down here call her, she watches West Wing, we all watch West Wing) and if she wants a damned baby stretching me out, fine. But if she doesn’t, SUPER fine. I don’t know what “the sacred ovaries” have to say about it, because, hello? they don’t talk. All they do is spit out an egg once in a while, and they alternate between months. Lazy fucking hags. (”But, but, Bitch?” you say, “You said that the three of you call Tamara the President. How can you do that, if they don’t talk.” My answer, they use telepathy, but only every other month. I don’t get a lot of convo from them. Happy?)

That’s all I have for now. I’m sure Tamara will pass on any more requests, and then force me to oblige.

Sincerely,
Bitch - Tamara’s Uterus

Fuck off.

Sincerely,
Tamara’s Uterus

The tivo was installed in my room, (because I’m a selfish bitch and want all new toys to be at my command) and on Wednesday we all crawled into my bed to watch Lost and American Idol. I was flipping through the menu to my Now Playing List and scrolling up to get to Lost. When suddenly everyone had an opinion about what I had recorded. Allie on my left was surprised that I had Dawson’s Creek, Louie on my right said, “Oprah? Why Oprah?” And I got a little defensive. (FYI: It’s because I LIKE OPRAH! occasionally! OK?) Louie got smacked on the hand with the remote and Allie got pushed to the floor (not really, Louie did get smacked in the hand with the remote but that was for something else. And to be fair Allie was just remarking on the awesomeness of my choices. I think.).

So when I opted to not delete Lost immediately after we watched it, Louie got all up in my grill again. All concerned that I was going to run out of space or something. I got all snappy with the “It’s MY TIVO! AND!!! it has SEVENTY HOURS OF RECORD TIME.” Which is when I realized the toy had reached “that status” in my head wherein I was 8 years old again and someone was telling me I was playing with the toy wrong. Like, for instance, if someone had given you a Barbie but no Ken and then you got another Barbie and those two Barbies decided to ‘live together’ and have babies and some one told you that two Barbie’s couldn’t technically get pregnant together you might tell that someone, “MY BARBIE’S LOVE EACH OTHER AND THEY GET TO HAVE THIS STAWBERRY SHORTCAKE DOLL AS THEIR BABY! AND BESIDES! I DON’T HAVE A KEN!” I guess what I’m trying to say is, if you question the love between me and my tivo, I might just snap at you a little. I might be a little sensitive about people telling me what I should and should not record. What I will and will not watch.

If you want a tivo so you can specifically not record Oprah, fine, but if I want to record Oprah, I will, because… tivo lives in my room. Just like if Ballroom Barbie and Magical Hair Barbie want to have a sweet smelling Strawberry Shortcake baby, they will. Got it? Good.

P.S. I hate having to put a disclaimer on this, but I know people will think I’m actually mad at Louie, and I’m not. This is all in good fun. Besides, I recorded damned Contender for him. Jeez.

A guy in a mini cooper drove by with his Darth Vader mask on. The driver stopped the car right on Sunset and Hillhurst. Darth Vader just pointed at all of us. I was creeped out.

A mom waited with her ten year old son until his older (Jedi Master) friend came with his mom. Second mom was definitely cooler.

A ‘front of the line nerd’ got into a screaming match with a guy in a car stopped at the Sunset stop light.

Darth Vader greeted us at the door. He seemed jovial and friendly. I was creeped out by him too.

No one would let me eat a hot dog.

Aisle Seat Allie had a coke spilled on her. I told her, “At least it wasn’t vomit.”

The film print was flipped. The crowd booed. It was all rectified in a few short minutes as Allie and I discussed whether or not they would need to put the print on the rewinds and check each splice.

The print was patched in at least two places. And the color timing was a bit fucked up. We get what we deserve for seeing a print rather than the digital projection.

The Dark Side nerds in front of us could not get enough of the Vader transformation. They clapped every five seconds. The Obi Wan nerds behind us started screaming at them to “Shut the fuck up” and “Stop clapping”.

We got out of the movie as the sun was rising.

The first 30 minutes had me really excited. It was like the old Lucas was back and in full effect. It didn’t last. R2D2 gave the best performance by a droid since his performance in Empire.

Here’s your answer, Britney - No. No, I cannot handle your truth. Please, turn off the camera.

Now, as for the Geek Festival… When Allie IMed me yesterday and said, “I can’t believe we’re not going to Geek Festival tomorrow!” I felt a little sad. In a flurry of e-mailing and phone calling and planning, things have been rectified. We went to the 2:45AM showing of Episode 2 at Mann’s Chinese, what was that, 3 years ago? And it was one of the most fun screenings I’ve been too. People had thrown up outside they were so excited. The line wrapped around to Orange Street. Yoda’s light saber battle had people standing up and cheering. I heard someone scream, “YOU I LOVE, YODA!” Allie and I were just glad to be there to soak up all the geek around us. So tonight, at 2:45AM we will be attending the screening at the Vista (stalkers, this is not a notice for you to try and kill us… my boyfriend will be there and he’s an EMT, so he’ll be able to save our lives, so don’t even bother.) and I cannot wait! That is some truth I can handle. Geek truth.

When your sister is 9 months pregnant and you get a call in the middle of the day from her area code, you answer it. When she asks for your mom’s cell phone number you get a little excited. When she doesn’t tell you she’s in labor, you feel a little disappointed.

When little baby? When?

I will fix this post later. It’s ‘later’ now.

Saturday two guys in DirecTV uniforms came to the door.

“We are here to install the Tivo.”

I jumped up and down and clapped my hands like a stupid freak. They were slightly amused.

“Where to install the Tivo?”

I pointed to my newly cleaned bedroom. (More on that later.)

They start talking about ‘the attic’. I try to change their mind. It went something like this.

Guy #2: We need to go in the attic.
Tamara: That is a very, very bad idea. That is where the spiders live. And maybe a dead skunk. And also, you’ll fall through and our landlord will kick us out.
Guy #2: Eh. It’ll be fine.

Cut to:
20 minutes later, Guy #2 (now known as Attic Guy) comes back into my room.

Me: Are you ok? Were there a lot of spiders up there?
Attic Guy: Es Spiders? Mucho.
Me: Mucho? A lot? Are you serious?
Attic Guy: Serious. Mucho. Mucho Spiders.

Let’s just say when the DirecTV man comes down from the attic and says, “Mucho spiders,” Allie and I freak a little the fuck out.

A lot of other stuff happened and includes: DirecTV guy #1 sitting on my bedroom floor telling me he had a hangover and that he needed a shot of tequila, Phone guy getting snippy with me and me telling him to TAKE IT DOWN A NOTCH! then hearing him take a deep breath and at the end of the conversation tell me he was giving me Showtime free for a month (woo!), and me trying to figure out why Tivo wants to record things like City Slickers II and the Rockford Files for me, Tivo likes to work I guess, always wants to be busy.

bloo-bleep, blee-bloop, donk. donk. bloo-bleep!