A Movie Review -more or less PARTE UNO

"'This is a story about love.'"
It is also a story in which the ending is revealed within the first 2 minutes and the audience is then tortured for 2 hours after.

For the past 3 years, Moulin Rouge! has been on my list of movies to see.  I was quite young (by some standards) when Katie and I believe the other Katie decided to sing the Moulin Rouge! rendition of Roxanne, originally written by The Police on Karaoke night at some event.
After that, I was hooked.  I listened to the entire soundtrack over and over -youtube had never served me so well.

I knew the general story:
A penniless writer and prostitute fall in love and there is conflict bla bla bla.

And when I asked my parents if I could rent it, they said the usual things good parents say:
"You're too young to be exposed to such things,"
"We don't want you watching that,"
"You don't need to fill your head with this,"
Now me, being who I am, decided to honor that rather than go to the trouble of secretly watching the movie some way or another and them never being the wiser (too much work, -this shouldn't surprise you; i was already putting enough effort into not doing laundry).

Although the film is PG-13, and I thought my dear parental guardians were being completely unreasonable, I busied myself with other things and then I turned 17 and I continued to wait.  Until now.
-it's 2am so... until yesterday.
(Why you may ask?  Because, just like any other teenager, I've done enough stupid, underhanded things to write a book -or at least a long paragraph and enough was enough)

I asked again.
And again they said the said the things good parents say.  And my dad showed me the review by Roger Ebert.  And I was exceptionally frustrated.
I decided to rent it anyway.  3 years is ridiculous. PG-13 was ridiculous.  The fact that they let me see R movies and not this was ridiculous.  This was completely and utterly stupid.
Fine, do what you will, they said. -well more or less.
You'd think I was renting a porno.

They weren't angry when I walked out the door.  And when I parked the car and came inside, they still were not angry.  Whether that be because they understand that I need to grow up, or because I over-dramatized the evening's predicament, I will never know (nor ask about); but one is for certain, they were not upset with my decision.

Under Pressure

*An excellent Queen song and kinda my life right now*
For the past month and a couple of days, I've been avoiding more than laundry.
                  or mostly laundry.
              
Anyway, I haven't written in while.  I guess it's because I've been pressuring myself to write something fun and witty and crazy and exciting involving little cartoons, but I just don't have it in me right now.

If you've been having an awful day and decided to curl up with a hot cup of something hot,
then if you almost spilled that something hot onto your laptop or iPhone or hard drive but didn't,
and if you accidently deleted the link to this blog and just spent the last 15 minutes looking for this blog because the name of it slipped your mind, only to find that I wrote this and now you're reliving the entire experience right now, then I'm sorry.

And if you just tried to read that entire sentence out loud in one breath, then good job.

If reading that sentence out loud in one breath just killed you, then... well I honestly do not have any sympathy for you.  That was really stupid.

This is the shortest post I've ever posted (probably)

The Terrible Tale of A Tangled Evening

Lauren: Well Megan, I think we’ve learned an important lesson today.

Megan:  Don’t trust movie theater managers?

Lauren:  No, don’t embark on adventures.  JUST STAY HOME!

Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess, but that’s not important because I was at home checking my facebook.  And as it turns out, at 4:39 is this afternoon, Alison Sent me the following message:

LAUREN, I HAVE A FREE TICKET FOR YOU TO COME SEE TANGLED TONIGHT AT A SPECIAL  PREVIEWING.  DO YOU WANNA COME!  it’s at (insert theater & city) at 7:00.  so yeah i wish i had your phone number so i could call you!!!! i hope you get this in time.  call me bomb diggity! (inset Ali’s phone #)

Now, seeing as I’ve been super excited for this movie for the past Lord knows how long, I was pretty stoked.  Luckily, I read this message at around 10 minutes to 6 so I quickly called her up and let her know that a YEAHHHH I was totally coming!!!!!!  But unfortunately for Ali, she could not go to the movie and offered me all of her tickets.  All 12 of them.

So I got a hold of Megan and asked if she could go.  After much coordinating, turns out she could.  However, by now, I now had to pick up Megan, and the tickets and get to the theater in 45 minutes.  Fabulous.  Also there was the question of when we were going to pick up Miss Megan.  Funny she should ask, because I had no idea.  The Theater is easily a 30 minute drive and I didn’t know how far out in the boondocks Ali lived. 

So my Mom decided (I did not support this although both of our plans were defective) we should pick up the tickets. Then go back to pick up Megan, then go to the theater to get to the movie.  If you know the areas I’m talking about at all, (which you probably don't *hehe sucker) then you know what kind of Hell we were setting ourselves up with.  On the car-ride to Ali's house my mom and I had a little talk about how she is glad to have a spontaneous girl, but she just doesn’t think things through.  Truth is, I don’t have time to think; in fact we were lucky to have gotten this far without about 22 more speed bumps and also, my plan, was way more time efficient than hers.  She admitted it as well; even though I forgot that Megan probably needed time to actually get ready.  So we screwed both plans and Megan got her own ride to the theater.  I am so lucky to have a mother who puts up with me.

Anyway we get to wherever we are Ali's neighborhood ( I swear everyone I know lives in the most random places) to get the tickets… and there’s a gate.  Oh crap.  Fortunately when I called the house, someone (I think it was Olivia) answered and told me the pass code thing.  Movie starts in 15 minutes btw.  Great.  We get back onto the freeway to the theater and there is a Tangled line.  That wraps around the building.  And I’m at the end of it.  –well, not for long.  Other people came.  And then Megan came and we had a grand ol’ time standing in line, catching up on stories and what-not when we find out only 1 theater is for Tangled.  And we got cut off.  Turns out the radio station arranging this event overbooked.  By 80 people.  Most people went home with sad children.  Others wrote their e-mail addresses on the backs of their tickets and put them on the front desk, as instructed; to be redeemed for a free movie.  Megan and I bought overpriced tickets to Megamind. 

We made our way to the concession stand for some popcorn and drinks.  We got a huge bowl of popcorn.  With Flynn and Rapunzel’s huge faces on it.

Rub it in our faces why don’t you.

We got some napkins and went down the hall to the theater where we were greeted by a Tangled Poster.

ok uh… ouch.

We walked a little further and saw a giant, cardboard, 3-dimentional, car-and-a-half-long Tangled Poster.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaa

Then we watched the previews and guess what particular trailer we saw?

“I could get used to a view like this.  Yep, I’m used to it.  Guys I want a castle.  Awww the kingdom; clapping, dancing, general merry-making; not a care in the world.  At least for most folks.  You see that handsome fellow running for his life? That is me.”

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME??????!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!!!!!!!!!??????!!!!!!

And in case you were not sure before, the answer is yes, I did recite that entire beginning of the trailer in the theater.           

Megamind was a cute movie though, I’m glad I saw it.

(In the bathroom referring to when Tangled actually comes out)

Lauren: So 2 weeks?

Megan: 2 weeks.

Next on the To-Do list was the whole e-mail/ticket/free-movie/thing.  And of course the manager didn’t know anything about it.  We “had to find the radio representative and talk to her about the free movie thing.”  And he didn’t even say it with a customer-service-smile.  So we go to the gaming area where Megan spends $3 trying to win an ipod shuffle.  Meanwhile a mother and her two kids are at the desk obviously doing what we attempted earlier and is turned away.  As soon as Megan ran out of money, and we stood outside for a while, I decided to give it another go.  We marched back into that theater and I told that smileless turd that perhaps it was HIS job to call the representative and figure this out.  I did everything in my power to politely, yet firmly, dismantle that man and everything his badge stands for and get what I want!  According to Megan, I was rather nice.  I hope she wasn’t exaggerating, I’d hate to further ruin the man’s evening.  You know what? No.  I hope I ruined his evening and all other evenings he may have until the end of JANUARY!  I walked ouside and into the dead street.  Had a stressed out laugh-attack.  Almost ripped a lamppost from out of the ground –Megan thank you for stopping me, Thus concluding The Terrible Tale of A Tangled Evening.

funerals

Been thinking about funerals lately.  No one I know died recently; it's just something I've been thinking about.
I remember my friend's dad died a few years ago.  He was very sick, and passed away in his sweatpants.  So my friend and her family didn't know what else to bury him, and they knew he wouldn't care, so they buried him in his sweatpants.  And everyone finds that so odd. I say "that's awesome!" I mean come on, even if they buried him in a suit, what would they do with the sweatpants and sweatshirt? donate them to GoodWill? Fact: no one wants death clothes.

A lot of people are buried in suits, and nice dresses, and such, and for the longest time I didn't understand why.  But now I do.

A funeral is a time for everyone to come and pay their respects to the deceased.  As for the deceased: it's their last Hurrah; their last party! and it IS a party:
1. people who love you
2. chatter
3. sometimes music
4. food
5. common theme
It is totally a party whether you admit it or not!
And at your last party, everyone dresses up in their nicest depressing attire; which is why you, the corpse in question, is also dressed for success.
Which is why I'm pretty sure my friend's dad had a closed-casket ceremony; if he were exposed in his sweats, he would put everyone at risk of feeling awkward for being overdressed in comparison to the deceased.


Funerals have another "last" thing that many overlook: the casket.
As Jerry Seinfeld once said, "we base our lives around boxes."
when we are born, we sleep in a box, we live in a big, sturdy, box.  when we move to another box, we use boxes, to move our stuff.
-and that's always the biggest issue isn't it?
i need boxes. where can i get boxes? i'm moving in 2 weeks and i need boxes for all my crap.
where are you moving to Bill? 
who cares? do you have any boxes?
And then we die.  And we are put into that final box.  

Doomsday

Due to safety regulations and what-not, my school is required to partake in a fire drill, earthquake drill, and lockdown drill.  To be more efficient, we did them all at the same time.

Apparently this is exactly what is supposed to happen in the event of Doomsday:
1.     an earthquake occurs and a bunch of high school students are expected to fit under their desks in order to protect themselves.  When we realize this is hopeless, we choose our most important body part and put it under the desk.

2.     then an intruder enters the school and tries to kill everyone.  We remain under our gum-covered shield and turn off the lights.  anyone still outside is left to fend for themselves.  We can only hope that said intruder doesn't break our windows and start shooting at everyone.

3.     then for some reason the school bursts into flames.  We disregard the ongoing earthquake and stranger-danger and walk with our classes in a single-file line through the heart of our burning, quaking, crumbling, criminal infested, 50-year old establishment of education -which is also under construction- along with over 3,000 other people to get to our 2-entrance only football field which is hopefully not on fire or reduced to a gaping hole.

4.    after that, we stand there as our teachers count us to see who is still alive.

flUsh wounds

In honor of Halloween coming up, I've decided to write a terrible tale.  One which cannot be avoided, haunts you dreams and steals your children. Enjoy 

I tried pulling the flushy thing once.... twice... three times.  A little bead of sweat formed for every second it didn't go down.

I glared at that strong&soft paper with scorn.  It was like wiping with an angel tunic a minute ago but that's all in the past.  If it weren't so freakin fluffy I wouldn't be in this situation.  Who buys a low-flow and Charmin Ultra and puts them in the same room?

Holding my feeble breath, my shaking fingers gripped the flushy thing one more time.  It was cold in my grasp despite my constant tugging.  Thankfully more water came and the bowl filled up more and more and just when I thought I'd avoided catastrophe -it doesn't go down.
I quickly looked for a plunger but it was nowhere to be found.  All that was left was to pray... to the toilet.
"Please don't do this to me, I don't know these people very well, you know it's not my faulllllllt!"
But it had no mercy.  Saturated yellow and and brown rose to my doom.

why i am apart of the new minority with a fake religion

SAT's ruin happiness.
the stress
the expectations 
how every question is defining your future
the constant anxiety of running out of sharp pencils
and of course the preparations: PSAT's

Today I took said prepitory (is that a word?) test and let me tell you, it was... interesting.
Though I was pretty much sworn in or something (more like told in a stern voice by the teacher who was instructed by an official piece of paper to speak in a stern voice) to never talk about the test and its content with other students, I've decided to bend the rules and sort-of do it anyway.

At the beginning of the test you have to fill out a lot of crap with your name and address and school yada yada yada.  So I get to the ethnicity section and I see all these politically correct ethnicities (godforbid i say "race" because all of mankind is "one race" and if you say "race" then you are a "racist" which sounds a lot like "rapist"): African American, Latino American, Native American, Asian American, the list goes on and on and then there is White.  Not Caucasian.  Not even White American.  Juuuuuust white.

*Assuming incredibly sarcastic tone*
and i for one find that offensive!  How dare the PSAT reduce me down to just white?!  I'm an American! And a legal one at that!  An individual!  My people are a great ethnicity, and I for one refuse to take it!  It is true that my people did not treat others as equals at one time or another, but that is a thing of the past and we are not all alike.  Do you think of us to be so lowly that it is necessary to strip us of our Caucasioness?!


Anyway after a good 2 minutes of uncontrollable laughter in my head, I got to the religion section.  The first choice is "prefer not to say" or something that; the last one is "no relgion" or something like that; and inbetween is rather large selection of faiths to chose from so naturally I look for mine.  Technically, I am an "evangelical free christian".... it wasn't on the list.  There was a variety of buddhist, hindu, catholic, baptist, lutheran etc religions.  But not evangelical free.  Not even just plain christian. Not even a box marked "other"... according to the official list of PSAT religions, the only ones out there are on that list or nonexistent. so what box did i mark?  i marked the "prefer not to say" box.  you can't list my freakin religion on your freakin list or even give me the option of "other"? Really?

So anyway, this entire predicament kept me pretty entertained for the next 4 hours of testing.

My name is Lauren the Evangelical Free Caucasian-White-American Christian and I approve this message.