Sarah Gone Wild

Archive for the ‘Things that piss me off’ Category

I was watching the news this morning (always a mistake, but I have to know what weather to dress for and those sneaky rat bastards are constantly drizzling weather nuggets throughout the whole damn show so you have to watch at least 3 segments before you really know what’s 50% likely to happen outside today…and doesn’t “weather nuggets” sound like it’s gonna rain poo?? That’d be disgusting but funny from inside…).

Anyway, I caught a preview of the story they were doing on Boobquake. If you’re not familiar, read the Facebook page. I happen to find it hilarious that a religious nutball thinks immodest dress causes earthquakes (and it pisses me off that he also believes a woman’s form of dress essentially validates rape and adultery as it causes men to “go astray,” which in turn causes earthquakes). But what really made me laugh till I farted (I like to think my ass was laughing, too) was a video clip of a protest where a man was holding a sign that read, “GOD HATES BOOBS!” Even funnier? The “oo” was blurred out. Really? We feel the need to censor to WORD boob? Wowza.

God hates boobs, eh? I’ll play your game for a second, you self-righteous bigot. Let’s say I absolutely believe in God. God created everything. God wants humans to procreate and thus created humans to do so. Okay, if that’s true, then obviously God created boobs. They feed the children born through the process God created. So how, pray tell, does it even make an inkling of sense in your warped misogynistic brain that God hates boobs when HE created them for HIS OWN purposes?

This is just another prime example of why religion really gets my goat. People use it to further their own personal agendas, when it’s convenient anyway. In claiming to be religious, he’s creating his own black hole of hypocrisy by stating that God hates a piece of the very anatomy he created. Perhaps he meant that God hates women who don’t keep their boobs to themselves…I could see the justification in his small little brain for that. Even then I don’t agree, but that’s at least a religiously valid argument.

So the moral of this lesson is: Don’t watch the news. Ever. It’s just gonna piss you off and make your ass laugh.

Happy Tuesday, my boobylicious friends.

Granted, Calvin Klein owes more apologies for this than I do, but whatever.

Yes, this is another post about working out. And weight loss. And frustration. And dumbbells. Choose your own adventure…would you like to hear more? Keep reading! Tired of the subject? Go away! (I say that with love.)

This is my third week of ChaLEAN Extreme. I love it, but I’m getting really upset at the lack of weight loss I’ve had. I don’t follow the recommended diet because I dislike most of the ingredients used and, with my schedule, I rely on a lot of pre-packaged foods. Don’t tell me to stop eating processed foods – I know I should, but I don’t cook much and if I’m going to stick to any sort of healthy eating regime, it has to work with my schedule and habits. I have read the guide, though, so I try to stay in the general vicinity of what to eat.

I have been eating a bazillion more servings of fruit and veggies than I have in recent history, and when T wants to eat out, I fend for myself and eat at home. If I do eat out, it’s at Subway or Applebees, where I order a WW menu item. I burn a lot more calories now, with the new workouts and the constant use of stairs at work, so I try to account for that without going overboard. If I splurge, it’s rare and it’s generally after one of my long walks. I don’t drink heavily and if I do have a drink or two, it’s not more than once a week. And I’ve cut way down on the amount of diet soda I drink. AND I quit coffee. So two sources of artificial sweeteners have been reduced/eliminated. That’s progress.

On top of sacrificing most things that are delicious, I also have no life on account of my new workout schedule and walk training. Seriously – this is what my weeks are like now:

• Monday – 40 minute strength workout – all of these require lifting heavy and reaching total muscle failure by the 10-12 rep and integrate upper and lower body into each move

• Tuesday – a different 40 minute strength workout, sometimes a 20 minute cardio workout

• Wednesday – rest

• Thursday – 50 minute intense cardio/muscled endurance workout, 10 minute ab workout

• Friday – yet another 40 minute strength workout (these are all so hard, but this one is the worst)

• Saturday – 35 minute super intense cardio workout, 20 minute yoga workout

• Sunday – rest, but every other week is a long walk/run for the 50-mile walk training (this week was 14 miles in the windy rain on a mostly unpaved path with 6 killer hills, and I ran at least a mile of it)

I don’t mind the schedule, especially if I’m getting amazing results, but I’m not. I mean, I can see small improvements all over my body and I know I’m building muscle, but when the scale isn’t moving much, I get frustrated. And when I get frustrated, I am more likely to give up.

I understand that some fat is being replaced by muscle (and no, muscle does not weigh more than fat – a pound is a pound) and that during intense strength training, your muscles retain a bit more water than usual as they repair themselves…but after 2.5 weeks AND with being on a prescription diuretic, I would have thought a real loss would have shown up by now. It hasn’t and I can’t get over it. I’m mad! I have NEVER pushed myself this way before. Maybe my body needs a little more time to adjust, but if that’s the case, I wish it’d hurry up already.

Also good to note – my doctor ran blood work a few weeks ago and they came back great. All my mineral/vitamin counts are good, my good cholesterol is well above the minimum, my bad is much lower than the maximum and my triglycerides are good. And my blood pressure is back to a normal level. So things are good in that aspect, but the scale there showed an 11 pound gain over my last visit 2.5 months ago. Come on, now. That’s ridiculous. Grrrr.

Also ridiculous – I tested my scale this morning. I woke up, actually pooped (woohoo!), weighed (165) and proceeded to straighten my hair, brush my teeth and put my makeup on – still naked. I weighed again on my way to get dressed and I was up to 165.6. Really? I didn’t eat or drink a thing and I sure did NOT put on that much makeup. WTF??? Stupid.

So obviously, I need to re-examine my diet and tell the scale to suck it.

In other news…in an attempt NOT to go broke, I bought a set of Reebok Speed Pac 25 adjustable dumbbells. In my excitement, I assumed “Speed Pac 25″ meant that each hand weight maxed at 25 pounds. Nope, each maxes at 12.5 for a total weight of 25 for the set. So that’s no good and they are going back to the store. I need higher weights than that. And holding a 10-lb weight and a 3- or 5-lb weight together in one hand just isn’t working. My poor hands can’t take it.

So I’m looking into a more expensive but more versatile set – like the Bowflex SelectTechs and the PowerBlock. If anyone has insights on either, I’d love to hear them. I’ve heard some negatives on the SelectTechs, but nothing on the PowerBlock. I have to buy something before the next phase starts in a week and a half – preferably sooner since I’m finding it hard to reach failure with the weights I have now. I’m impressed with how strong I’ve gotten already, so maybe I should just focus on that and not worry so much about the scale. My size 10 jeans fit comfortably, so I guess I shouldn’t complain…

Anyway. That’s all I got right now. I’m going to enjoy my rest day and pretend tomorrow’s hell workout isn’t lurking around the corner…

I interrupt my regularly scheduled blogging with a message from the Emergency Bitching System. This is only a test. In the event of an actual emergency, I wouldn’t be posting because my head would have already exploded.

What brought on this emergency rant? A couple of Perez postings, which I will be quoting in the following bitchfest. A summary of the first for the click-shy: The National Association to Advance Fat Acceptance (NAAFA) released a statement that Precious star Gabourey Sidibe doesn’t need to lose weight because SHE IS HEALTHY AS SHE IS NOW.

First of all, WTF? The NAAFA, REALLY? The NAAFA is a real entity? Why? We do NOT need to encourage people to be fat. I understand wanting to lessen the discrimination against heavy people (I know how it feels all to well to be judged based on appearance alone), but it’s not necessary to advance FAT acceptance. Advance the acceptance of diversity, of nontraditional beauty…it’s the word fat that just doesn’t fly.

Second, how the fuck do these people with NAAFA know she’s healthy? They don’t, and from what I read, they don’t even claim to. Here’s the quote from the organization’s rep:

You cannot tell by looking at a person if they [sic] are healthy. Fat does not equal disease and thin does not equal healthy…Achievements come in all sizes.

Without the full quote, it seems like the fools at Perez are stretching a bit as the quote doesn’t say directly that GS is healthy. So that inaccuracy makes me mad (thus the all caps above). By the same token, I expect nothing more from a crap site like that (to which I am sadly addicted).

And beyond that, I do agree with every sentence of that statement. However, the thing that makes me mad is the continued focus on the idea of fat. There’s fat fat and skinny fat, neither of which are healthy. Being what is considered overweight can absolutely be healthy if the person eats decently and works out regularly. However, being at Gabourey’s size just absolutely CANNOT be healthy. She is a beautiful girl and should absolutely embrace having a full figure – once her weight puts her out of risk for heart disease, diabetes, stroke, etc.

Now the second post. Summary – there’s a video link to a news story on a woman who is BEING PAID to get fat. The kicker? She’s already 550 pounds and wants to DOUBLE that weight. She is on some sort of fat woman porn site, and her “fans” are sending her food and paying her to heft up even more. She has a 3 year old that she can barely keep up with already (and that kid is going to be harassed to no end when she enters the public school system), and she says she “doesn’t buy into” all the research and facts about the diseases associated with obesity. Really? You don’t believe in the scientific studies, and statistics on how many people die each year just from being FAT? Let me know how your daughter feels about that after you leave her with no mother.

I think the whole obesity trend has gotten out of hand. Not just the number of obese people – that’s been ridiculous for a long time. No, the trend of embracing being unhealthily overweight. Granted, to each his or her own. It’s definitely your own prerogative if you want to be heavy and at risk of death. And I understand the struggle to find the motivation to start losing the weight once things have gotten out of hand. Hello, I weighed over 200 pounds for months and have struggled with weight my whole life. I get it.

But never once did I think it was healthy to eat junk food and sit on my ass. I finally came to the realization that it wasn’t fair to me or my loved ones to unnecessarily put my life at risk. I deserved a chance at having a happy, healthy life. By the same notion, however, I also believe in ENJOYING that life. So if I want pizza, I have pizza. If I want a greasy burger, I have a greasy burger. If I need a week off from working out, I take it. There’s balance in everything, and simply saying, “I’m fat and that’s okay with me, so everyone else should agree” is just bullshit.

I’ll always have big thighs and broad shoulders. My knees will always be ugly. I’ll never be at 8% body fat. But I will make a conscious effort to live as healthy a life as I can. And THAT’S what we should be promoting. The acceptance of a new standard of beauty, not a fat one. Too thin is unhealthy, so that shouldn’t be our standard. Too heavy is unhealthy, so THAT shouldn’t be the standard. Look at Beyonce. She’s in great shape and doesn’t try to be stick thin. Her curves are just that – CURVES. Not unhealthy fat, but natural, beautiful, womanly curves. In my opinion, she could set the new standard of beauty.

I honestly think that my own journey and continued struggle with my weight is what fuels this anger. I am working so damn hard to be healthy, while others prefer not to do the work. And then they call those like me who think they are lazy discriminatory. Nope, been there, done that. I was fat, and when I was, I was lazy. Depressed, yes. But I got help for that. Dealing with a lot, yes. But wake up – that’s called life.

This completes the test of the Emergency Bitching System. I now return my regularly scheduled blogging.

First, because I will be discussing a topic that is sensitive to most, here’s an important message from the first post I ever wrote:

If you’re offended by things I say, don’t read my blog.

You can keep your snarky comments. I don’t expect people to agree with me or my opinions and I hate it when people don’t understand that overall concept. Everything written here is my opinion. Dictionary.com defines “opinion” as:

1.	a belief or judgment that rests on grounds insufficient to produce complete certainty.

2.	a personal view, attitude, or appraisal.

Now that that’s cleared up…let me clear up one more thing. I was raised Catholic. Baptized in 4th grade, anyway. Took all the classes, went to PSR and weekly mass. Had to give something up every year for Lent. My confirmation name is Collette. Been there, done that, got pissed at being forced to do that and eventually quit. Haven’t gone back since.

Overall, my feelings on religion have less to do with beliefs as they do with hypocrisy. I don’t honestly know where I stand on the subject of believing in a higher power. I believe in science, and until science and religion can somehow coexist in a logical manner, I just can’t buy into it fully. I don’t buy that, if I live my life like a good person, but swear, have sex for fun, take birth control, drink, dance, believe in equal rights for women, don’t attend church and enjoy R-rated movies, that I’m going to be punished for it when I die. [Note: I'm drawing on multiple religions and denominations, not just Catholicism.]

I think everyone should live by the Golden Rule and we’ll all be just fine. And honestly, that’s the ROOT of most religions…but churches seem to be so much more interested in political agendas and business and money and being the biggest congregation in the state or whatever else they want that they’ve lost sight of the Golden Rule entirely. And the judging. Oh, I can’t stand the judging. I’m not one to quote the Bible, but I’m pretty sure it says something about letting he who is without sin cast the first stone. (Don’t get me started on the sexism.)

I also CANNOT STAND when people preach at me. If I want to learn about religion, I’ll study it academically and seek out the answers I want. I don’t need someone showing up on my doorstep or telling me over dinner what I need to do to keep myself from eternal damnation. No one can REALLY agree on that anyway, so just can it. I don’t need your brochures and I didn’t ask for your prayers for my soul.

So back to the hypocrisy and the root of my rant. It’s Lent season. Which really means little to me other than Mickey D’s is bringing back the Filet O’ Fish song (I really hope they develop that textable video from the new spot). But it really brings to focus how much fucking hypocrisy there is in this world. Don’t you dare go all Nazi-religious for the next few weeks and then return to your cussing, “sin”-filled life as soon as Zombie Jesus Day is over. That makes me sick.

This really applies every day, but this season really brings it to light for me. It’s cool if you use Lent as a reason to try to break a bad habit. I’ve done that. Failed miserably, but I gave it the good old college try. But I admitted that’s what I was doing. I never pretended that I was doing it because I was a good Catholic. It’s cool if you really believe in the reason for it and give something up as part of your belief system. I feel very strongly that, just as I’m allowed to have my opinions and beliefs, everyone else is allowed to have theirs.

But what I absolutely, positively cannot tolerate is phony holier-than-thou bullshit from people who are only holy on Sundays or during key religious seasons. What the fuck does it matter if you go to church every single Sunday if you embezzle millions of dollars from your company during the week? Or cheat on your spouse? Or worse, just use church as a status symbol to further your personal agenda? Or just don’t really believe in the teachings unless it’s convenient for you? Barf. Get over yourself.

Not everyone is perfect in their lives and aren’t really expected to be in most religions, from what I understand. And that’s not what makes me mad. Mostly because those aren’t the people who throw religion around like they’re some kind of saint or something.

I just can’t stand the deceit that seems to have permeated so much of our culture today. I don’t wish anybody harm, I genuinely want to be a useful part of society and I really do care about the people around me. If that means some unseen force is going to punish me when I die, then I guess that’s just too bad. I just hope there’s a Filet O’ Fish waiting to welcome me to hell.

Before you get all riled up reading this, please refer to this. And note: I have a lot of crap running through my brain right now and this could get jumbled.

Okay. As you all know, I myself am a woman who struggles with my self image and weight. I absolutely believe that the media promotes an unhealthy body image for women – to a certain degree. But as someone who also has a handle on reality, I understand why so many skinny women are used in advertising, particularly for men’s products. Come on, how would Axe sell its nauseating line of “manly” body fragrance if the spots showed a dude being chased down by a herd of plus-sized, jiggly women? I don’t think many people would jump at the chance to buy that, no matter what reality is…they are selling a FANTASY. Period.

Along the same lines, it pisses me off to hear people bitch about how thin runway models are. Please note: there is a HUGE difference between high fashion and ready to wear. For high fashion, the women are simply over-glamorized clothes hangers. They are not SUPPOSED to be curvy – they are selling an ideal, the actual piece that hangs off of them. They are not selling themselves in it. On the other hand, I fully believe that larger models absolutely should be used to model and showcase ready to wear fashion as these items need to show how they look on a body. That is their purpose – to be worn by actual humans. Therefore, it makes sense to show how these clothes look on a variety of sizes – INCLUDING small sizes. If we’re going to embrace diversity, that means you can’t begin to alienate the skinny.

That said, I have very strong feelings on perpetuating the idea that being larger AND unhealthy is okay. It absolutely IS.NOT. Show me a curvy model with cellulite who believes in eating well and exercising regularly and I fully support her having a successful, long career. Show me a slightly overweight, totally out of shape model and I resolutely object. At the same time, I equally object to interviewing skinny-fat models who talk about how they never work out and eat anything they want. Guess what, lady? You’re just as likely to drop dead of heart failure as a visibly overweight person is.

Bottom line – we all need to work on being HEALTHY. Who gives a flying fuck what size you are if you are taking care of yourself? I know that I will never be a two, or a four, or even a six. I’ll be LUCKY if I can ever squeeze these wasted-on-me childbearing hips into a size eight. But you know what? I’m okay with being a 10 or a 12 because I know I’m doing everything I can to be my healthy best.

To the models who bitch about the standards they are held to – shut the fuck up. You CHOSE this career knowing full well what was expected of you. Same with actresses. It is your job to be pretty and thin. You get paid to work out every day and hire personal chefs. There’s nothing wrong with gaining a few pounds if you are still being healthy, so I do wish the media would back off on that crap, but if you can’t handle the pressure of being in the public eye, you shouldn’t have chosen this path in life.

And one more thing…at some point, we as a society need to begin explaining what Photoshop is to young girls so they don’t feel the need to hold themselves to a completely unattainable standard of beauty. Advertising sells. It sells the ideal we all pursue. That’s why these images are so common.  You’ll never get away from that, but it’s important to educate young girls on this process so they understand (and tell the boys about it, too, so their expecations are a little more realistic). And again, I do think there are a lot of products that can sell just as well by featuring a diverse range of people…but just as stupid things like homophobia, sexism and racism will always exist on some level, so will prejudice against those who are overweight.

And I’m not done yet. It’s not okay to pick on someone because of their size. It’s okay to be big and beautiful…but only to an extent. If you choose to overeat and not exercise, you are deciding to put your health at risk. It’s sickening to see how quickly the percentage of overweight children continues to grow. Don’t let your bad decisions negatively impact your children’s lives. Kids these days are fucking ruthless. Even when I was a kid, I remember being called ”Thunder Thighs” when I was heavier and then “Jolly Green Giant” and “Tree” when I hit a growth spurt and got tall and lanky. That hurt a lot. 

It’s not okay that the “normal” kids make fun of the fat kids, but I seriously believe that there should be some sort of child neglect charge that can be brought against parents who let their children become obese. It is NOT FAIR to them. They learn from you and if you teach them to comfort themselves with food and not exercise, you are perpetuating a dangerous and unnecessary cycle. It is not easy to stay healthy, and it’s okay to not eat perfectly all the time, but come on. Parents have GOT to be held accountable for the actions they pass on to their kids. Parents can be charged with leaving their kids home alone, or in a car alone, or buying alcohol for minors, but not for overfeeding their kids. All are irresponsible, but only one is overlooked.

Which brings me to my next point. When we were on vacay, Mr. T said something about not believing in food addiction, that saying you are addicted to food is just an excuse. I got heated and yelled a little because I truly believe all overweight people have some level of food addiction that gets them and keeps them heavy. How can you say alcoholism is a disease, but not food addiction? You don’t need to drink liquor to survive, but you absolutely, 100% need to eat to live. How is it so hard to understand that food is addictive if people are expected to consume it every single day? And don’t even get me started on the fucking food industry and the chemicals they put in foods to make them addicitive. You can’t quit eating. You will fucking die. Even when you overcome your dependency on food, it will forever be in front of you, tempting you. You can throw out all the alcohol or keep drugs out of the house, but there is no way you can avoid interacting with food.

I’m running out of steam here. I know I’ve made some huge generalizations that won’t apply to 100% of cases, but I’m just so sick of some of these debates that I read about. Whether it’s Dove’s campaign for real beauty being bashed because Dove is owned by the same people who own Axe or Glamour running articles on big and beautiful models (size 8 is so not big, by the way), I feel like some of the most important points are being completely overlooked. There are circumstances that dictate the need for super skinny women, but there is also a lack of focus on being truly healthy. It starts with parenting and continues through the media and social pressures. Women need to know HOW to love themselves, whether they are big, small or normal – whatever the fuck that is.

Rant over.

 

 

Seriously, if I could sew, this would be my Halloween costume:

But no. I can’t sew and I’m not six.

Fucking assholes. [Note: I haven't actually spent an ounce of time looking for an adult cupcake costume, so it's very possible one exists. I'm at work, thus in the mood to bitch.]

Sidebar: As much as I enjoy discussing poo, I find it surprising that I have such a strong reaction to the word fart. I hate it. I hate the word, and although fart noises are funny, smells are not. I can’t type that word one more time. *Shudder*

I think my head might explode. To keep that from happening (or to make it happen faster), I think I need to do a rants and raves post. So here goes. Warning: Mindless bitching ahead.

• Rant: In the last 3 weeks, work has gotten insanely fucked up. We went from doing good work for a crazy but open-minded client to doing shit-ass, used-car-sales-type work for the same crazy but now totally close-minded client. I’m not good at math, but a 180 isn’t the appropriate measurement here because I wasn’t happy three weeks ago (but still doing some fun work here and there), and now I’m even more unhappy AND not allowed to do good work. That’s not opposite, so all you math geniuses, figure out what degree of turn my work life just took.
• Rave: I caved and finally spent $100 to get my very own (pink) Chi. I used it for the first time today and my hair feels so nice and looks pretty good given that I only spent about 7 minutes working on it and it was wet when I went to bed last night.
• Rant: Fuck you, Passport Services. Mr. T is trying to find an affordable out-of-country getaway for our anniversary, but since you SENT BACK my app with a request for fees that I DO NOT OWE, I now have to hope you receive my note and process my name change properly in enough time to get my passport back for the trip. You’re really fucking with my life. I am within my year to have my name changed for free. And fuck Mr. Clueless who put me on hold for more than a half hour last night, only to tell me he’s never heard of this situation happening before and I should just send a note back with my app and try again. Government agencies are SOOOOO helpful. This better work, asshats.
• Rave (with a bonus rant embedded): Someone annoymously left a wicked sweet gift on my desk this morning – Freakin’ Magical Unicorn Gum. Whomever left the gift helped ensure that no one died this morning when it came to my attention that my boss did not take notes during our 45-minute meeting last night where I listed out a million questions I needed the client to answer on their 8 AM call and I was expected to recall them all while they were on the phone with said client. The copy on the back of the box makes me cringe and smile at the same time (that’s some impressive facial contortionism, by the way): “OMG unicorns are so freakin’ magical! I love their beautiful manes and those crazy horns coming out of their heads. Chew this gum and you’ll totally poop sunshine just like them!!!!” And for the record, that means unicorns fart glitter, poop sunshine and barf rainbows. What now, Chuck Norris? What?
• Rant: I’m getting really sick of my jiggly belly. I work out like a fiend and I can tell I’m getting much stronger (and I can see a bit of definition in my abs, buried under my glorious flubber), but I’d really prefer to look like the fitness goddess I am beginning to feel like.
• Rave: Vanilla Ice + Math = my favorite tshirt ever (at least, for now). It makes today better. Check out the hook while my DJ revolves it.

• Rant: Why the hell isn’t there a Penny’s at the Galleria? I want to go there on lunch but can’t because the closest one is way too far away. Guess I’ll be visiting Old Navy.
• Rave: Shopping is fun again. Now that I don’t look like a water buffalo in everything I try on, I actually enjoy trying stuff on again. I got a tank this weekend that doesn’t look like much on the hanger, but it actually looks pretty fucking hot when I put it on (nice showcasing of the boobage) – and that’s the first time, maybe in my whole life, that I’ve ever said that.
• Rant: About the boobage. Come on, girls. You are the only attractive fat I have and I would REALLY like to keep you as you are. My ass can shrink, my legs can trim down, my hips and stomach can take a friggin’ hike, but you, darling mammaries, should stay where you are. No more shrinking. Seriously. I thought we were friends.
• Rave: H1N1, hell, I’ll even call you the swine flu for right now…thank you thank you thank you for infecting our client and getting me out of my trip to Georgia. Seven days of quarantine turns out to be good for all involved. No client swim party, no lecture on branding that means nothing because the client refuses to listen, no flying, no spending 3 days with my boss, no missing my husband, no high-fat lunches and dinners, no missed workouts…*sigh of relief*.
• Rant: Nathan, I swear to god if you ask me one more fucking question today, I’m going to rip your eyes out and shove them down your throat, and then rip your arms off and beat you to death with them (see, PQ? I can hang with the raging Italian!). And it’s not even lunchtime yet. You don’t ever, ever retain information – yes, you were given the assignment yesterday. Yes, you should have done it before you left. No, I can’t make the client do anything. So stop asking. I’m losing my ever loving mind over here, and not even the Freakin’ Magical Unicorn Gum is going to save you if you ask ONE MORE GOD FORSAKEN MOTHER FUCKING QUESTION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*Head blows up*

 

And sometimes I need to remember I’m getting older and should therefore avoid many public places.

Case in point, the mall. On a Saturday. Afternoon. During back-to-school sales time. By myself.

I was on a quest for the perfect shirt to go with a new skirt I bought, and decided to stop by the mall on my way home from taking my family from the airport to my sister’s house. I only wanted to go in one store – JCPenny. I drove over to the store and randomly parked. Seemingly innocuous enough, yes? No. Not even close. Look it up – the word means harmless, and what ensued was anything but.

I walked from my car to the door, happily unaware of what I was about to walk into, still riding the high from fitting into a pencil skirt and not looking like a lumpy magical leopluridon (or nonmagical leopluridon for that matter) and being complimented by a gaggle of gays in the H&M dressing room. (Aside: if you are a gay man with good taste in fashion and are reading my blog, please let me know if you want to be my friend…I have gay envy and I need your help…I’ll be your Karen and you can be my Jack…Mr. T won’t mind if you grab my boobs a lot. That’s not a statement, Mr. T – that’s an order: YOU WILL NOT MIND IF GAY MEN GRAB MY BOOBAGE. Cue Jedi mind trick.)

Anyskittles, back to the scary story (Jacob on the beach style) (Mr. T, you’d know that was a Twilight reference if you’d just watch the movie with me once). I had no idea what I was approaching. I opened the first tinted door and, as I entered the vestibule, my high immediately started to fade. I could hear the screaming piles of procreation that were causing chaos on the other side of the next door.

Then I opened door #2 and almost wept with horror. Children were EVERYWHERE. Mother. Fucker. This is the goddamn children’s department! WHY WOULD YOU PUT AN ENTRANCE THERE AND NOT WARN PEOPLE??? I carefully dodged snotty screamers, hyper hooligans and unsupervised uterine kin and managed to maintain an ounce of sanity…but here’s where my plan went terribly wrong. I did not seek out the nearest top-floor exit through which to make my child-free escape…thus, after I found the perfect top, I had to re-navigate the sea of infantile madness to get back to my car. My ovaries were shriveled, quaking and trying to retreat by the time I reached the asylum of my No Doubt-blaring toaster.

Seriously. The children’s department is tricky even if you like kids and actually have some. If you accidentally enter through that door, you are going to deal with “Mommy, I want that! Mommy, can I have this? Mommy, why is that crazy lady running and screaming?” There needs to be a sign.

I’ll even write it for you. It should say: Warning! You are about to enter the 7th layer of hell. Proceed with caution.

So maybe that won’t fly, but really, what’s the harm in labeling entrances? If you are a department store, that means you have multiple DEPARTMENTS. You should tell people which one they are about to walk into so they can mentally prepare or proceed to the next set of doors. You can’t Choose Your Own Adventure if you don’t know what your basic options are!

And I hope you all enjoyed the extra dose of alliteration today. I’m especially proud of the unsupervised uterine kin. I plan on using that phrase much more often in the future. Maybe I’ll even go to Build-a-Bear and get a programmable sound chip, then record “Warning: Unsupervised Unterine Kin!” in my best “Danger, Will Robinson” voice.

Warning…as most of you didn’t go to the midnight screening, I suggest not reading this post until you’ve seen The Half-Blood Prince. If you continue reading, you cannot be angry with me for what I write because you have been fairly warned.

 

Seriously, not one ounce of bitching.

 

I mean it. I’ll give you a mad wedgie.

 

I’m getting pretty buff. I could probably take you.

 

This is your last chance. There is no turning back from here.

 

Okay, so I secured a space in line at 8:40 last night – 3 hours and 19 minutes before the movie started. There were only a handful of people in front of me, and most of them were going to a different auditorium, so it was cool. I had so much anxiety about going in alone, but I didn’t want to wait and end up further back in the line. I know, it’s not a big deal to be the 30th person in line, but I’m very particular about where I sit in a theater (middle middle, yo) and I wasn’t going to let this night be ruined by mediocre seats.

So my mom, sister, her friend Heather and my BFF Ms. B all arrive and we sit. I brought games, so we played Disney Princess Uno. Entertaining enough to pass some time. What was even more entertaining, however, was the eye-feast of people watching. Yes, I was wearing my Gryffindor tshirt, but that was nothing compared to some of the shit I saw. I guess I don’t get dressing up like characters to watch a movie. I mean, the actors CAN’T SEE YOU. They don’t know you’re dressed up. And you kinda look like a moron. I supported the themed scarves and ties (just cute), but the annoying kid in line next to me in full HP costuming, who did charades the whole time, was more than I could take. I mean, there was a girl who was MAYBE 16 wearing a slutty Hermione costume. Whore. And even worse? The people who dressed up in costumes that in no way reflected the HP design. I said at one point, “Hmm, I don’t remember the evil hooker scene in the book…” I think that girl was going for the Bellatrix look, but she accomplished something more along the lines of Emo Tinkerbell…

The homemade tshirts were interesting, too. Most had horrid spelling or grammar mistakes that made me want to punch the wearers in the spleen, but one stood out and I give mad props to the girl wearing it. It said, “Edward – Avada Kedavra. – Harry”. Freaking brilliant.

A couple hours later, they begin letting lines into their respective auditoriums. At this point, the peeps in front of us start screaming some chick’s name and said chick runs up with 4 other miscreant middle schoolers and they proceed to join the group in line. Oh.Hell.No. We’ve been standing here for HOURS, and you just got here and think you can cut? Not with my group. We’re very vocal. When Ms.B’s yelling didn’t work, my sister grabbed an usher and the jumpers were escorted to the back of the line. Don’t fuck with us. We may be adults, but this midnight premeire shit is serious. I also reminded a 10 year old girl that, though she was sitting on our side of the divider at the moment, she was not getting in front of us. She tried to stare me down. Yeah, like you’re gonna win that one. I’m not mature enough to refrain from taunting children. She stepped off, though, so I didn’t have to kick her parents in the shins.

So we get seated about an hour before the show starts, and time just slowed down. I felt like the last hour was a decade. But then the previews started. No New Moon, which is what I figured, but then I read today that some showings will have that preview, so I hope I see it on one of my returning visits. I digress.

 

And in case you need another warning, the real spoilers start here.

 

Stop reading if you don’t want to know more or haven’t read the books.

 

I’m not kidding.

 

Okay. We get through the trailers and the opening credits begin. That’s when I almost committed murder. Some fucking ass nut from the back of the theater stands up and yells, “Spoiler alert! Dumbledore dies!” Um, fuck you, you fucking fucktard. My mom and sister, who have been waiting for over three hours to see this movie with me, have not read the books and had no clue about Dumbledore. He ruined the movie before it even began. He is so lucky no one could identify him, because I would have at least had him thrown out.

So I was seriously pissed when the first scene began, which didn’t help because the first scene is a complete departure from the book. Not really a big deal, but since I was already aggravated, I cussed at the screen a little bit. I quickly got over it, though. I didn’t love the first chapter in the book about the ministers anyway, and I think this was a good cut and helped show how the wizard war was spilling over into the Muggle world.

I noticed quickly how well the humor was done in this film. For such a dark book, the screen adaptation did a fantastic job of balancing funny and serious – and Rupert Grint is going to have a long career, given his knack for comedy. I really liked how they ramped up the connection between Ginny and Harry, and Hermione and Ron. It added a nice depth to the whole film and made Ron’s relationship with Lavender even more laughable (and frustrating).

I also really appreciated how many of the scene directly mirrored the book, or had just minor changes. The one scene that came from left field was the Death Eaters’ attack on the Burrow. I understand what the scene accomplished and I liked it, but it was a huge surprise.

I was disappointed by the lack of emphasis on Fenrir Greyback. The guy playing him was so perfect – so creepy – and I wanted more of that story to come out. I also missed the Tonks-Lupin drama and the Fleur-Bill storyline. The wedding is such a great part of the last book and I don’t see how it can be incorporated at this point. Even if it is in the film, it won’t be the same because the final battle didn’t involved anyone but the Death Eaters, Dumbledore and Harry. There were no Order members injured, and Fenrir did not attack Bill, so he won’t be scarred (again, unless they make it a tiny aside).

One thing that REALLY bothered me was the deletion of the funeral at the end. It seemed to take away from the tragic death of one of the most beloved characters in the series. Granted, I never liked the new actor (Michael Gambon) playing Dumbledore as much as the original (Richard Harris), so I didn’t have the bond with his character in the movies like I did in the books, but it was still desperately sad and his character deserved to have the funeral scene. Perhaps they are planning on opening the first of the final two movies on this scene? If they do that AND delete the wedding, it’s going to be a very depressing start.

Another thing this film did well was creep me the hell out. When Katie got cursed, I had chills. It was such a frightening thing to watch. When Hagrid, Slughonr and Harry were in front of the dead Aragog, I couldn’t look at the screen – that fucking spider was insanely disturbing. And the scene with the Inferi? Intense. Suffice it to say I screamed and got laughed at by 6 year olds and the gay squad sitting in front of us (who, by the way, entertained the shit out of us during the hour leading up to the movie – loved them). It was like a herd of Gollum-but-creepier creatures. Not at all what I envisioned, but far more scary than my brain would let me imagine.

One more thing that really bothers me about the movies in general – Snape is far too likeable. Not saying that you feel warm fuzzies about him, but he has funny moments and he’s not nearly evil enough to Harry in my opinion. Not even at the end did I hate him the way I did in the book. I think I tend to have a much stronger reaction to the books in general, but I still think Snape’s character ever quite generated the animosity on screen that he did on the page. Alan Rickman is insanely talented, so I’m not implying he can’t act…I just think the character wasn’t adapted to the big screen as well as he could have been.

Overall, I loved this movie. It was such an intense experience. If you’re a reader of the books and have a vested interest in the series, it is undoubtedly a very emotional experience. I think it was an amazing representation of an incredible book. I can’t wait to see it again and again, although I should buy stock in Kleenex. I had to try so hard not to bawl like a baby at the end. There was a lot of sniffling in the theater when the credits began to roll. Even the 50 year old dude next to me wiped his eyes at one point. Awesome.

Oh, and I am SO glad Quidditch was included this time. It’s so exciting to watch! And I love Luna. She’s too great. Okay, I’m forcing myself to stop. I could go on forever, but I do have work to get done today.

And seriously. Hermione is hot.

 

That’s really all I have to say about that. Without my cheese and Asiago Parmesan dressing (okay, and croutons), salad is not a happy place. You know that face most babies make when they taste their first pickle? I’ve done that a lot lately. I also do that when I see babies.

But whatever. I’ve lost 13 pounds. Leafy greens are a necessary evil if I want my new shoes soon and then my new tattoo. I got my dress…I can’t find pictures of it online, but trust me. It’s totally hot. Maybe not so much on me, but in general. It does make my boobs look good, though. You know you like it. Anyway…

 

I think pet owners can appreciate this. An open letter to my dog and cat:

I really don’t need supervision when I pee. It actually makes me uncomfortable to have you follow me in and stare at me while I do my business. And cat, I really don’t understand why pawing the shower curtain rapidly while standing on your back paws provides you so much entertainment, but as long as it does, I will continue to harass you and make you fall in the tub. I need my entertainment, too.

Dog, I’m sorry we used the Cesar Milan method of training on the cat and you don’t understand that “TSSSSST!” means “Stop doing that before I fucking kill you.” But it does. It does NOT mean come running because something fun is going to happen. Sure, watching the cat get yelled at probably has some level of satisfaction for you, but I don’t always have time to stop and pet you when I’m busy trying to kill that damn feline.

Cat, seriously. Shut the fuck up. We love you. You are adorable and hilarious, but if you don’t stop waking us up with your incessant mewing, you might die. It won’t be our fault. We can’t control sleep-induced rages. And about you, dog. When we yell at the cat to shut up, that does not mean you should get up and start tap dancing around our bed. If I don’t get some sleep soon, you will both be locked out of the room – in places we won’t be able to hear your scratching, tapping or mewing.

Dog, I know you need more walks. However, I can’t control the weather and no one likes a stinky wet dog. When it clears up, we’ll go. I promise. In the meantime, please stop giving me those eyes. It breaks my heart.

Cat, letting Mr. T pet you all night and then curling up on my legs to sleep is NOT equal treatment. I want my fair share of snuggle time or I will continue to roll around on purpose to get you to leave. And it’s really not fair for you to sleep on the dog bed. He’s bigger than you and isn’t allowed on the bed or couches. That’s just selfish and mean. I know you’re evil…I just wish you wouldn’t take it out on your brother.

Dog, you can totally take him. Cat is much smaller and not very coordinated, really. The next time he waits for you around the corner and smacks the crap out of you, give him a little one-two to the head. That’ll teach him. But don’t hurt him – just show him who’s boss.

Oh, and both of you – I know you’re secretly friends. Busted.