But it was just an almost identically outfitted couple out for a scooter ride along the Erie Canal. Nothing odd about it at all. Nope. Not a thing.
A friend recently posed a question via text:
So like do caterpillars know that they’re gonna be butterflies or do they just build the cocoon and be like wtf am I doing?
Thanks, B. Great question, and one I’m sure we’ve all pondered while staring at the little buggers in our kids’ at-home butterfly kit as they pigged out on waxy brown goop, wriggled into their teeny silk sleeping bags and emerged, triumphantly stretching brightly painted wings (which, OMG leave stains on the walls of the butterfly hut that look like BLOOD! but thankfully are not).
It’s the kit where the caterpillars arrive via USPS and you marvel that they survived the Ace-Ventura-inspired transport, and then you lovingly follow all the directions only to discover online that there are throngs of angry environmentalists eager to betch slap you for releasing them into the wild, disrupting the delicate migratory butterfly eco balance.
Put away the torches, people. My guess is most of these little guys don’t make it very far. Just ask the one who crossed paths with a bird mere yards from his release site on our front sidewalk.
But I digress.
I believe it depends on whether we’re talking about the female or male of the species. I also felt it best to provide illustrations to explicate my highly scientific answer:
Yeah. I’ll bet it’s something like that.
Amy Schumer’s brand of comedy might not be for everyone. In fact, I’m willling to bet more than a few of the more mature moviegoers in our theatre had no idea what Trainwreck had in store for them as they cradled their warm bags of popcorn, stuffed napkins up their sleeves and settled into their seats.
I arrived later than my friends and was greeted by an up-close and very loud sex scene, the likes of which I guess I didn’t quite anticipate myself. Uproariously funny, but crass. As were the next several sex scenes.
If you haven’t guessed by now, this movie was rife with nekkid bodies and dirty words. No one got up and left, though, so maybe it was their type of humor after all! Just to be on the safe side, though, you might want to steer clear of this one for your day out with Gran. Or mom. Can’t be too careful, right?
Bonus for moi? My pretend boyfriend, John Cena, played one of her boyfriends. I had no idea what thrills were in store for my tender eyes.
If you’re not offended by crass humor, I’d dash off to the theatre pronto to see this gem. It promises lung-clearing laughs. Here’s a quick peek in case you haven’t seen a trailer yet:
You’ve seen those quizzes on Facebook, right? The ones I never take? Well, somebody posted one about romantic movies, and I took it. You find out how many you’ve seen out of the bunch they listed (20? 40? Don’t remember. Don’t care.). It reminded me just how long it’s been since I’ve enjoyed a viewing of 10 Things I Hate About You, so I watched that straight away.
A few of my other faves were also on that list, including Pride & Prejudice and Amelie. I find that reading about your favorite movies makes you want to watch them, much in the same way seeing someone yawn fills you with the urge to follow suit.
Did reading about yawning make you yawn?
How about now?
[Sidebar: Sometimes the mere mention of the word yawn is all it takes for me. It was all it took for my friend, Kim, in high school. I would sit across the room from her holding up a sign that said “Yawn” just to elicit a yawn from her (and giggles from me). Worked every time.]
[Sidebar to my sidebar: How odd would it be if we all sneezed by suggestion?]
I had just finished watching P&P the night before I saw the list, so that one didn’t require a viewing. Every so often, I just need a Mr. Darcy fix. I’d also watched Amelie a few months back, so I was set there.
Another title on the list was one I remember seeing in trailer form, but never the actual movie: In a World. I thought it pretty fortuitous that it’s running on Netflix at the moment, so off I went to voiceover land.
Having worked in radio for a decade, I’ve done voiceover work, and heard some of the big guns do their thing for stations for what I’m sure was no small change. So the topic intrigued me, and the promise of romance was just enough to tip the scales and watch it.
There were some good names in the cast, and a few cute “crush” moments, but overall, it was extremely two dimensional. It was like when you’re looking at what someone else is drinking and then you take a sip of your drink and you totally don’t get the flavor you were expecting, because you thought you were going to taste what you were seeing in their glass. I don’t feel like any character was well-developed enough for me to care much about them.
It was one of those movies where it was over and left you feeling like the reel must have snapped in the projecter and it was just spinning around: tick, tick, tick. There was just nothing to wrap your feelers around. Even the tender moments felt forced and out of place.
I won’t even post the trailer. My favorite part of the whole flick was being able to enjoy the talent of Michaela Watkins again, since someone at ABC was misguided enough to cancel Trophy Wife.
So my recommendation is to click here and read the two-second summary of what Trophy Wife is all about, then watch this video (just under 22 mins) of my favorite episode of the whole (single! *sniff*) season:
I just fell into a rabbit hole that I found myself scampering to leave in a hurry. Fred Flinstone style.
So Mister Man’s gnoshing on dessert at the kitchen table while searching online for combat boots. He’s decided that’s his style, and we’re trying to find an affordable pair.
“How about these, mom?” He holds up his tablet so I can look over as I gather newspaper for the recycle bin from the other end of the table. “They look great!”
“Yeah,” he continues, “and they’re only $29.”
“Huh. Must be because they’re leather and mesh. Good find!”
He then points to the name of the online store and furrows his brow, “Does this mean what I think it does?”
“Yep. Probably means they’re used,” I answer.
[Sidebar: My kids have an aversion to used things when they don’t know the previous owner of the article. The funny part is, most of what they wore when they were younger were hand-me-downs and some great finds from the second hand store.]
Then I suggested he get the brand name so we could find them somewhere else (and preferably somewhere he can try them on!).
I made my way to the computer to punch in the name of the boots, and the same online store kept appearing listing after listing. So I gave in and checked out the pair he’d found at what sounded like a used clothing place. I clicked on the boots and saw this information come up in the description:
Alrighty. Didn’t know you needed a maturity level for a shoe purchase. Let’s see. What’s this to the right of the photo?
This item requires you to find a place in Second Life (like a Sandbox) to unpack and use it.
Okay, this is just effed up. Why would I want to open up a new pair of boots in a sandbox?! What kind of fresh hell is this, anyway?
I then decide I should check out the the About page to see what the shizazzle this place is:
What is Second Life?
Second Life is a 3D world where everyone you see is a real person and every place you visit is built by people just like you.
People are buying fake boots to put on their fake online self to do things I don’t want to know about.
Of course, I had to check out a few other categories to see what it was all about. Holy crap, there’s a Duran Duran universe! And pet destinations with kitties everywhere. Sweet Jeebus there are probably furries there.
I’m a little skeered now.
If you’re in my age bracket, you’re familiar with cameras that utilized actual rolls of film. If you’re not, here’s a visual:
If you’re a smidgen younger than I am, you might be better acquainted with these:
They were frequently found on tables at weddings so guests could fill them with
obscene pictures to be found months after the event wonderful candids of one other and the wedding party. They also tagged along on a lot of family vacations. Hand one to a kid and you might as well roll down the car window and toss out 10 bucks. Most will be of their stuffed animals, and the rest are pretty much guaranteed to be a blurry blobs.
Film cameras were kind of a crapshoot from start to finish. The uncertainty of it all just added to the adventure:
- Did the film holes catch on the nubby things that move it along or am I taking endless shots without the film advancing?
- Was the film fresh (I’ve had film in my fridge for years. YEARS.)?
- Was it blurry?
- Did I get everyone in the shot, including their heads?
- Was anyone blinking?
- Wardrobe malfunctions?
You didn’t know until you got that film back from being processed.
WHICH. TOOK. AN. ETERNITY.
Or so it felt.
Once you drove up to the Fotomat and ceremoniously handed it through the window to the trusty employee, you were all anticipation.
And that was one-day service in most cases! I always imagined the employee hiding behind that tiny counter rifling through your precious photos–some of which might have been taken without your knowing it. “Oh, sweet Jeebus, don’t let there be anything bad on those prints,” you’d think to yourself as you picked them up from the smirking kid.
[SIDEBAR: I also hate to admit how much brain space I allotted to wondering about the where and when of bathroom breaks for the people in that tiny booth. There couldn’t have possibly been room for a terlit in there. And if there was, did he post a little sign in the window when he used it?]
When Fotomat folded, we went to mail order via Clark’s or York. That took an eternity. We aged about five years waiting for those prints to grace our mailbox. Didn’t matter that the film had been in the camera for three years and in a drawer for another two.
We wanted them back STAT! We could wait no longer to see them once we’d handed them off to someone.
Nowadays it’s a one-hour turnaround. I capture rapid-fire frames of Mister Man doing a karate jump off the coffee table and 60 minutes later I have a crisp print of him mid-air. No blinking, blurring, or missing body parts. Of course the employees there have seen everything you’ve sent, but you’re able to check digitally for anything that might be amiss.
The modern-day issue is that my hard drives are bursting at the seams with digital images and movies. One of them is near capacity, and I fear it may walk off the job any moment.
I guess I should get on that whole “weeding out” project soon. Like, yesterday.