Freaky Friday

Just got off the phone with my super cute mom for a postmortem on our respective weekends. My 60-yr-old parents had a great time at the Taylor Swift concert last night, and 29-yr-old me rocked it hard with a LaRosa's calzone, The English Patient and was asleep by midnight. I'm pretty sure we all enjoyed ourselves about equally.

Now, back to my Sunday. Lorelai and Rory await.

Movies I cry during:

1. Schindler's List ("This pin. Two people. This is gold. Two more people. He would have given me two for it, at least one. One more person. A person, Stern. For this.")

2. The English Patient

3. Magnolia

5. Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (the original -- certainly not the watered-down sequel)

6. 27 Dresses

Every time.

Apt metaphors are almost as good as roadtrips

This bridge leads out of my aunt's neighborhood. It has to be a metaphor for my life, somehow (or maybe just a metaphor for vacations). I mean, it's a one-way covered bridge-- that sounds meaningful, so it must be. Something about determinedly traveling forward on one's chosen path? Or, maybe patiently waiting while gathering the stick-to-it-ive-ness to move forward? Oh, how about having obstacles in the way but using the structures of our society to navigate forth?






Plus, it's fucking quaint as hell.

Those Gilmore Girls DVDs aren't going to watch themselves

My progress in plowing through Gilmore Girls season one was stalled by a road trip to visit family and one of my bosom friends down South. The dear friend and I really Southern-ed it up by eating barbecue and collard greens, saying "y'all" and wandering through the sleepy gardens of Magnolia Plantation.

To my delight, we happened upon the very Southerniest of scenes and I captured it with my low-quality camera: a group of young ladies and gentlemen playing croquet in Battery Park, wearing hats, suits and plaid pants. Ironically done or not, it doesn't get any more genteel than that.




On an unrelated note, happy St. Patrick's Day to all. I celebrated by going grocery shopping, eating week-old chicken noodle soup and not wearing green. I ask you to join me in hoping that no drunken revelers stumble down from my neighborhood bar and try to enter my house as has happened in the past.

running outside > treadmill

Why it's better:

• It enables me to create bulleted lists, which I enjoy.
  
  
• Neighborhood kitties.
  
  
• Good people-watching, including Dude Pitching Golfballs on Sidewalk and Cute Mom Walking Viszla While Carrying Baby in Yellow Duck Jammies
  
  
• It's so easy to switch back and forth from fast to slow to match the tempo of my non-Apple mp3 player. Miley Cyrus's "Party in the USA": Speed up! Dulcet tones of Regina Spektor (phew, that's not as embarrassing): Slow down!
  
  
• Vitamin D. Thanks, sunshine! This encourages me to run farther, making me feel less guilty for eating whole blocks of cheese for dinner.
  

Why it's worse:

• Hills. That one on [street name omitted so as to foil internet stalkers' plans to creepily stalk] is excessive.
  
  
• Drinking fountains not as conveniently located.
  
  
• Sometimes, you see men peeing and/or wacking off in the alley near neighborhood pizza places. It's distracting enough to throw off one's pace, but hmmm, I guess it does inspire faster running.
  
  
  

Drive sober and insured or not at all

These lawyers are all of the minds that they can sweet-talk me into suing the Drunkee McNoInsurancePants who ran into me a fortnight ago. They think I have the time and inclination to pursue that ne'er-do-well for pain, suffering and costs incurred. They're all sorely mistaken, however, because I'm choosing to spend my time and inclinations elsewhere. Mostly on things like watching 'LOST,' talking about 'LOST,' kvetching about how the previous driver of my rental car was a smoker, and waiting eagerly for my 'Gilmore Girls' box set to arrive.

As if being a consumptive weren't bad enough.

The Sprinkles on Today's Suck Sundae:

• The public library carries zero seasons of Gilmore Girls. This charming romp through small town Stars Hollow includes an episode in which 16-yr-old Rory oversleeps and misses a quiz (episode two -- I've only gotten through episode four so no spoilers). The public library does, however, carry Grey's Anatomy in its entirety. This series includes an episode in which one of the doctors fractures his penis (episode 91, and it was Dr. Sloane, btw).

• I ran into my ex husband at Blockbuster video while looking for season one, disc two of Gilmore Girls.

• Neither my local Blockbuster store nor even any of the outlying Blockbuster locations carry any seasons of Gilmore Girls.

• The movie Sunshine Cleaning is a poor substitute for an evening spent with Lorelai and Rory Gilmore.
  

On the Brighter Side:

• Ex husband could stand to drop a few lbs. My recent bout with consumption kept me on a steady diet of UDF milkshakes and popcorn and has severely curtailed any gymgoing, but luckily that has yet to show any physical affects.
  

• The peach juice I bought on a whim in the Greek section at Jungle Jim's goes awesome with Diet 7UP.