A scary night at the movies

So, went to the movie theatre last night with my sister and another girlfriend. We figured it was a Tuesday night; we’d have our pick of movies. Right?

Wrong.

Our intention was to see the new Reese Witherspoon movie. Sold out. Okay, fine. We’d see that Johnny Depp movie. Sold out. We refused to see Little Fockers, so what was left? Black Swan. The ticket-seller (who happens to be a student of our friend) said it was a great movie. Okay, Black Swan it was.

We knew nothing about the movie going in. Well, almost nothing. I had read yesterday that Natalie Portman was now engaged to, and expecting a baby with, one of her co-stars from this movie. So, I knew the movie was about ballet and that Natalie had earned a Golden Globe nomination for the movie. That’s as far as my knowledge went. But, I like ballet. Center Stage was a great movie. Plus, we thought that if it was worthy of an award, we should see it. And then we could tell people we were all cultured and shit for watching award-nominated movies.

So, we went into the theatre with high expectations.

And then the movie started.

The fuck was this? Was it a thriller? Perhaps it would’ve helped to read a review of the movie before going in (ETA: I just read the review. It is, in fact, a thriller.). I can only imagine how the writer pitched this movie to executives.

“Picture it. A repressed perfectionist ballerina slowly goes insane, thinking she sees herself everywhere. It’s going to be really cool. We’ll use lots of camera effects (read: we’ll give the movie-goers motion sickness with all the jumping around). We’ll add a lot of vomiting and bloody toes and fingers. And masturbation. And at least one lesbian scene. Because lesbian ballerinas are hot. And then? At the end? When she thinks she killed her rival? She actually kills herself! It’s going to be awesome!”

I read that the script took about 10 years to make it to the screen. How much worse could it have been before this final version that no one would look at it? I’m guessing the writer added the lesbian scene and it was a done deal.

I suppose I could try to see this from the artiste’s point of view. You know, how the writer bludgeons you over the head with the symbolism? Natalie’s character wears white throughout the entire movie until she hangs out with her “evil twin” black swan, Mila Kunis. Then they, you know, do it, and she wears, um, gray after that.

I think the movie could’ve been better had they shown what everyone else was seeing. So, while Natalie’s character thought her friends were stabbing themselves with nail files, was she the one doing the actual stabbing? And what was with her overbearing mother? Couldn’t Natalie take out her own damearrings? I would’ve put a lock on my door about 10 years earlier.

If I had been friends with Natalie’s character, I would’ve just given the girl a sandwich and helped set up her profile on Match.com. All she needed was a burger and some sex and she would still be alive today.

I'll bet that ticket-seller laughed his ass off on his way home last night, thinking he screwed over his teacher.

Well played, kid. Well played.

What is figgy pudding anyway, and no, don't bring us some.

So, I woke up this morning singing, “We Are the World.” I suppose that’s an improvement over the millions of Christmas songs that have been dancing in my head over the last month, but not much of one. I need some heavy duty rap. Stat.

You know, I like the holidays, I really do, but damn, it’s a lot of work. From the decorating to the shopping to the cooking and baking. To hosting Christmas Eve. I’m tired.

But, even though it’s tiring, there are some things I look forward to every year. Breakfast at Mom’s on Christmas morning afternoon, playing whatever new board game we got that year, decorating the house. I have boxes and boxes of decorations stacked up in the basement, it takes an entire weekend to put everything up. The decorating weekend consists of taking stock of what I have, making a list of things I need (that may have broken last year [or have broken while stacked in the basement]), remembering where it all goes, putting it out and, finally, cleaning up the chaos I’d just created. By the end of the weekend, I am covered in enough glitter to moonlight as a stripper. But it’s pretty.

Of course, it’s not all fun and games. And stripper poles. I hate the shopping. While I love giving gifts, I don’t like the actual shopping for them. One, it’s hard to decide what to get the people who a) want nothing because they b) have everything already. My sister-in-law is great at finding gifts for people because she’s? A Shopper. I usually get her opinion before I start.

Working in retail for 8 years, I can appreciate what those mall workers go through every holiday season. And going to the mall around Christmas reminds me of those days and makes me appreciate that I don’t work there anymore. Last weekend, I spent a total of 16 hours shopping. It was just like when I worked in the mall, except I wasn’t getting paid. Only at the very end did I want to cry, which is an improvement for me. And then, on Monday, my sister and I hit the outlet malls. I didn’t get home until 10pm. P.M., people. I didn’t even eat dinner. But I? Was on a mission. And, I’m happy to say, my shopping is done. Normally, I’d still be shopping on Christmas Eve, so this is, in fact, a Christmas miracle. If I’m not wrapping presents at 2am Christmas morning this year, I will indeed believe in Santa Claus again.

And then there are the parties. We host Christmas Eve for my husband’s family. While I like the idea of being home, I’d much rather mess up someone else’s house this year. God bless my husband, though, who likes to cook. Because I think that would send me over the edge this year. Did I mention I’m tired?

But the kids make it all worth it. I have to admit, I got them some pretty awesome gifts this year (read: no clothes). I’ll be happy just to watch their reactions when they see what they got.

And I'll be happy when it's all over and I can take a long winter's nap.

Tired. Yeah.