Tuesday, January 27, 2009

You can't take me anywhere

I'm usually not big on the "here's what's happening in my life" type of posts -- I like to write more thematically -- but I'm so overwhelmed that I can barely think straight.

So I got the job in Denver. Now I'm waiting for my new boss to finalize my official start date. In the meantime, I'm trying to do my taxes, collect outstanding bills from clients, rent my house, figure out which furniture and household effects to keep and which to sell, figure out exactly when to move, where to live in Denver, blah blah blah.

And I know I'll get it all done. But I'm assuming that we'll be out of here and halfway across the world in about 4 weeks, and I'm not quite sure how it's going to happen without me losing my mind.

In the meantime, we went to the movies on Saturday night. It was our first date night, just the two of us, in 3 months. We were supposed to go to Jason's company's annual Christmas party (they do it in January to save money). I had the babysitter booked. And then we decided to bag the party and go see Slumdog Millionaire instead. Because we went to the party last year, and while it was cool to win the iPod (though I only had it a month before it got wet and never worked again), the party itself was kind of a dud. The thing started at 6, and by 6:15 the vultures had cleared out the buffet. The band was beyond atrocious. And a number of people got really shitfaced and were a drag to be around.

So really, between going to a crappy party with a bunch of drunken morons and seeing Slumdog Millionaire, it was a no-brainer. First, the movie has gotten phenomenal reviews and is cleaning up during awards season. Second, everyone I know who has seen it has raved. Third, it's set in India, which automatically means there's a good chance I'll adore it. And fourth, movies mean snacks.

I'm generally not a big snacker. I don't munch on chips or nuts or snacky things during the day. Plus I'm a messy eater. I try to be neat, but I invariably end up with crumbs on my boobs or a stain on my shirt. Jason thinks this is hilarious. He jokes that it's my way of saving things for later on.

But I love movie snacks. When I was in college, my sorority did a rush party with a Hollywood theme, and we served little cups of popcorn with raisinets mixed in. I had never mixed popcorn in candy, but when I tasted it, I felt like I'd died and gone to heaven. So now I have to have popcorn with raisinets when I go to the movies.

I also don't drink soft drinks. Unless we have visitors who like them, I don't keep them in the house. And if I do have one, it'll be diet.

But at the movies, I have to have a full-on, sugary Coke.

We settled into our seats with a box holding a big bag of popcorn, my box of raisinets, and two drinks. And by the end of the night, I was happier than a pig in shit. The movie was phenomenal -- I don't remember the last time a film left me so filled with joy that it felt like my heart was going to burst out of my chest. And I had my snacks.

By the end of the night, Jason looked over at my and almost choked on his popcorn. Because there was all 5'2" of me, settled into my chair, with popcorn all over my shirt, digging around for that last raisinet, all while trying to watch the movie over a pile of food that came up over my nose.

When the movie was over, I got up to throw away our trash.

"Oh, no, baby. Let the man with the big wheelie bin come to you. You've earned it tonight."

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