Monday’s watch it or watch it: The Dark Knight
Ooh! Ooh! A guest poster! From one of my most favorite people in the whole, wide world, The Husband! He, and my dad, went on a boys night this evening. Apparently they were the last two men in the country who had not seen The Dark Knight, and The Husband got sick of waiting around on his brother to be able to go, so off he and Dad went for some male bonding. I only wanted to see it to pay tribute to Heath, and that can wait for Netflix. This is The Husband’s very first post, so everybody be nice! Take it away sweetness.
Well, tonight I went to see The Dark Knight. Yes, I really waited this long to go see it, and I was truly rewarded. The theater was virtually empty, so it was nice and cool, and totally silent.
If you are wanting to see this movie simply because Heath Ledger is in it, I urge you to think hard about that decision. Yes, he is in it….BUT you cannot tell it is him beneath the makeup and he is a totally insane, evil, crazy, twisted individual in this movie. A premovie bathroom break is highly recommended, this movie is long and there is NO lull in the action.
I always hate reading movie reviews because they might give away the plot. I’ll try not to do that, although at this point I have to be one of the few people left that hadn’t already seen it before tonight.
Ok, so basically, The Joker tricks the criminals of Gotham City into becoming what they think to be allies with him. He betrays them…all. He has no rhyme or reason behind what he does, he simply does it to see how people will react. If he has a goal, it’s quite simply to try and reduce normal people to his level and make them do things they would never think of doing.
Batman plays a hero that is at times despised by the citizens of the city, but he continues to do what is right. He bends the rules when he has to, but always restores things back to the right.
In the end, good triumphs over evil at the cost of Batman’s image. He takes the blame for some things so that Gotham can have a hero with a face.
Hopefully that’s not too much of a spoiler for you, if it is, oh well. I warned you.
Filed under The Husband, Watch it or Whine | Comments (4)Dear Husband: 3,680,640 minutes ago
3,680,640 minutes ago I went on my very first, and very last, blind date. I have known and loved your smile for 3,680,640 minutes. 3,680,640 minutes ago I saw you standing in our friend’s living room wearing stone washed jeans (3,680,640 minutes ago does not equal the 80’s!), a faded t-shirt, and I swear to all that is holy, house shoes. You needed a haircut so badly that you were a week away from a mullet. My first impression? You seemed incredibly nice and incredibly shy.
3,690,720 minutes ago, I whined to Ang (one of my two roommates at the time) I had not been on a date in forever. I said “Come on, set me up with one of Joe’s friends.” (Joe was her then fiance, now husband of 6, I think, years)
“But, Hey You, all of Joe’s friends are computer geeks.”
“That is okay! I love computer geeks! Plus, I just want a nice summer fling, nothing serious.”
Meanwhile across town that very night you said, “Joe, does Ang have any cute friends?”
“Hmm, well Ang does live with these two girls both named Hey You. You might like the short one.”
“Why don’t you get Ang to set us up on a double date. Maybe we could go see the opening of the new Planet of the Apes.”
She did. Everyone wanted to see that dumbass movie but me, and so I said I would go as long as I at least got some free chocolate out of the deal. 3,680,620 minutes ago, we sat down at a little diner and you watched me kill a chocolate milkshake. You had said, “Nothing, thanks.” (What was up with that?) to the waitress. She rolled her eyes at the thought of the monster tip yet to come. All I can say is thank God Ang and Joe were there because if it had just been the two of us, we would have sat in silence all night, you were so shy.
We sat in the backseat of Ang’s blue Ford Taurus on the way to the theater, and you and Joe compared notes about some boring computer something. I would have written the night off as a complete waste of time, but you were just so damn cute, bad hair, house shoes and all. 3,680,600 minutes ago we sat next to each other during one of the worst movies ever forced upon the public. I sighed, and kept asking what time it was. You whispered back politely. At one point I thought you were having a seizure because you suddenly leaned back really hard in an effort to keep the brat behind you from kicking the seat. (You would NEVER do that now, you would turn around and smile, and think about when you could bring your son to watch boy movies with you instead of your bored wife). I asked if you were okay, and you turned red and mumbled something about stupid kids. After the movie, I was dropped off first, and waited for Ang to call and tell me what you thought about me. Apparently you thought I was “cute.” and “smart.” and “very Republican.” I thought you were “cute.” and “definitely a computer nerd.”
You know, when I write it all out like this it is kind of shocking we ever had a second date. But we did. I am glad you turned out to be more than a fling. Either that, or this is the longest summer fling in history, good thing we have global warming right! Every single minute, all 3,680,6– oh, lets say 50– minutes I have known you has been a blessing. We may have gone in blind, but it is obvious someone much wiser, and more powerful was looking out for us.
I love you.
The Wife
Taken a year later, one of our engagement pictures.
Filed under The Husband | Comments (7)The difference of a decade.
Today is The Husband’s birthday! Happy Birthday Darling Husband! His age now has a zero at the end of it. Since he will always and forever be older than me, it is my DUTY as a good wife to tease him about being elderly. We invited some friends over for a small dinner party on Saturday night. The theme was Over the Hill and everyone (babies and toddlers included) came wearing black. The Husband wore a Hawaiian print shirt.
There were so many candles we had to take down the smoke detector. Really!
When I picked up the cake it said, “The Husband has one foot in the graves.” You can see where I made them take the extra S off. It could have been worse I guess.
I put a black scarf on the mailbox and spray painted an old, ugly wreath for the front door. The blue sign lives there all the time, it says “No Solicitors, Sleeping Baby. We do not want to buy anything, and we are happy with our religion.”
I am positively allergic to plastic cutlery and paper plates, so we just smooshed our dining table, a card table and The Son’s red table all together so we could avoid any one feeling like they were at the kid’s table. Um, except the kids. I used scarves I already had and candles left over from Halloween for table decorations, and for the kids I used white paper so they could color if they got bored. It looked pretty good and I spent exactly zero dollars on decorations.
Silk calla lilies and more black scarves over the china cabinet and fireplace, and a few black and silver balloons got the point across. We had beef brisket, potatoes, a huge summery salad and fresh rolls ( I was going for yummy funeral food), oh, and birthday cake. All in all it was a lovely, inexpensive party for my Darling Old Husband.
Last night after he was asleep I wrote and hid notes all over the house. My favorites were, in the toilet paper “Did you have too much prune juice?” In his shoes, “We should probably trade these in for some S.A.S.” In his cell phone, “Will you tell us again what phones were like when you were a kid?” I got a cane for about a dollar, and set that next to his bedside table with a note that said, “This should help with all of those old man aches and pains.” He laughed at each one as he found them, and hopefully is not planning a year and a half in advance for when I am the same age.
Filed under The Husband | Comments (5)Vacation my ass.
On second thought it is probably not that great of an idea to use the word ass in a blog post about church. Instead insert ….um…..Oh! Foot! The title should read Vacation my Foot. This is the week that dozens of children who we usually only see at Christmas, Easter, and chasing the ice cream truck join the half dozen, or so, kids who attend our church regularly in a five-night Jesus extravaganza we call Vacation Bible School. (I think I will pause here and mention I sincerely do not mean this to be sacrilegious. If it comes across that way then start over and read again in a lighthearted, Hey You goes to church multiple times a week kinda way) This year’s theme is “Power Lab”, so everything is bedecked in sciency stuff. We do science themed projects, play “experimental” games, watch a video about a talking chipmunk and a stressed, but not mad scientist. Oh, and learn that Jesus is powerful.
The last couple of years The Husband and I have been “crew” leaders. This means more than five, but less than ten, elementary schoolers pull on us and say, “Miss Hey You! Miss Hey You! She got more than me! But I wanted blue! Green is yucky. Miss Hey You, will you take me potty?” “Mr. Husband? Why does your toe look like that? Mr. Husband? Can I climb on you? Mr. Husband! Garret farted (I HATE THAT WORD!)” The funniest is that The Husband has one kid who calls him Coach Husband. It cracks me up every time I hear it because it is: a. Such a southern thing - all male teachers are “Coach”. b. My darling husband is about as far from a “Coach” as you can get. Unless you can coach children running around like banshees?
Because we are working together, but still have our own distinct groups, the differences in how we relate to kids is painfully obvious. I am VERY strict. I do not tolerate running around, leaving the group, talking out of turn, using even slightly foul language (do as I say, not as I do!), or being disrespectful. I also sing all the songs, dance and do all the hand motions to the music. I play all the games, do all the crafts, and generally am just excited to be doing whatever the curriculum requires. The Husband pretty much lets the kids do whatever. Their lines are nonexistent, never mind army straight like mine. They climb all over him, pick flowers out of the church garden, sit during the songs, and never finish their group questions. He does not participate in the same giddy way that I do, and is shy about getting up in front of them to lead. He is also so-o-o-o patient with them, he listens to them one-on-one. He sits next to them while they eat, and helps them with their projects. The kids adore him. We always request to be on the same team of “crews” because it comes down to the fact that we complement each other wonderfully.
We all come home hungry, exhausted, and happy. This is The Son’s first year to participate in something other than the nursery. Tonight when it was time to go we could not leave until he had kissed his teachers good-bye. He had sung, and danced, made crafts, played, and prayed with other toddlers. VBS is a lot of work, but it is worth it to give other kids that same feeling that he gets, and if they happen to decide that church is for more than Christmas carols and Easter egg hunts, then all the better.
Filed under Family-blame the DNA, Friends-All three of them, Soap box, The Husband, Time Suckers | Comments (8)The grass is always greener. Er…Shorter.
It is really not his fault. Those damn allergies are to blame. I am sure that if he was allergian free The Husband would mow the yard on a regular basis. I fully plan on doing it myself once The Son can be left inside by himself for awhile. We used to pay someone to do it for us, but of course that went the same way as decent haircuts. I sure as hell am not going to pay $30 for the lawn to be cut, and $4 for my hair.
This has left our yard looking…..horrific. It has not been weed-eated (really? is that a word?) since last year. Tonight as our boys frolicked on The Neighbor’s stunning grass, I took the opportunity to capture the stark differences. Oh, how lucky we are to have such first world problems.
The Boys did a little Yoga while I stared at the Jungle in our front yard.
The itch you just can’t scratch.
We had a bad day here at the Huckablog World Headquarters. The Son has learned how to scale out of his crib, and has refused to sleep all friggin day. Do you know what happens when he is tired? His head spins around backwards, and he emits screeches that have vultures lining our sidewalk. Days like this are the ones that I sort of wish that I could escape to a job….you know the kind AWAY from my house. The kind that pays more than kisses and stickers.
Then I remember that I had many more bad days at work. I was a stellar employee when I worked for The Heartless Cellular Company. It was mostly because (not being cocky, it was just a fact) I was about ten times smarter than (most, not all of) my co-workers. I did do stupid things. Really stupid things. Things that I should have gotten fired for. Below is an email that I wrote to CAT (she also worked at heartless Cellular Company) while working…..on my company computer….on my work email address.
Hey Girl! Did you have a good weekend? We stayed in all day yesterday because The Husband is COVERED in POISON IVY!! You will never believe how he got it…or where he has it!! Last week I needed to do some gardening and it was CRAZY hot out. All of my shorts were dirty, so I just tossed on a pair of his boxers with a t-shirt. When I was done outside, I chucked the boxers on the bed and The Husband thought they were clean! He put them on, and now has Poison Ivy all over his ass and …..um, boy parts! He is hilarious trying to scratch!! LOL. Gotta go, have customer on hold. She is a moron too, I am just going to make something up to get her off of the line –Hey You
See!? Wasn’t I a good employee? Well, Heartless Company thought so because unbeknownst to me they were recording all of my calls and taking screen shots of my computer to use in training sessions. That call had some lady on hold while I was emailing CAT and showed the entire email on a huge screen in front of about 50 people, including my boss. The fact I worked there for another two years after that was a shock to all parties involved.
I think I will just enjoy my boss who does not give a damn who I email as long as I keep the goldfish crackers coming.
Filed under Family-blame the DNA, The Husband | Comments (2)Like Son
Have you ever heard that expression, like father, like son? Well, I certainly hope that it is true.
Happy Father’s day Husband. You have a great dad, you are an amazing father, and I fully expect to have a daughter-in-law say the same thing about The Son someday.
Filed under Family-blame the DNA, Parenting for Dummies, The Husband, The Son | Comment (1)