feeling the salt this morning, after another movie night.
The DH and I went to see Julie and Julia. #2 Son, the family cook, deemed this movie ‘too girly’ and took a pass. If I am honest, he was right. It is a good, but very girly movie. The previews were girly, too.
I nixed the chance of going to Time Traveler’s wife. Now THAT is a girly movie. And I was pretty sure it would make me cry. And I wasn’t looking for that.
Julie and Julia is a food movie, of course. But surprisingly, it is also a writing movie. Two authors, both working on their first books. Both fighting with deadlines, experiencing rejection, and ultimately triumphing.
It made me cry. A lot.
Now, when you go to a two hanky weeper, this is not unusual. But when the big success at the end of the movie is being able to bone a duck? But you’re crying your eyes out?
I kind of snuck into the bathroom, after that one. I mean, really. What was I going to say?
“My God. The poor lobsters. It breaks me heart.” sob. sniffle.
When we got home, instead of going to bed, like a sensible person, I stayed up watching my current guilty pleasure, Yard Wreckers.
I landscaper ambushes people in the home improvement store, offering to help them with their projects. Most people avoid him, which is the funniest part of the show. But someone always says yes.
And then, he shows up with a team and does a complete redo, ala Ground Force. And half the time it goes past cool, into the land of acid flashback, theme park, my god, what did I drink last night to agree to this?
Last night was excellent. She said “Tropical.” He gave her something that looked like the last concession stand before the Disney Jungle Cruise, complete with a huge, blue lit waterfall made from cement blocks which were also filled with cement. That sucker is not coming out.
It was beautifully hideous.
Of course, given the opportunity, and with enough money, I would probably have a life size fiberglass brontosaurus in my yard. Who am I to talk?