I'm not even sure I want to admit this in writing, but the way I see it, maybe my massive embarrassment/confusion will help somebody else. Somebody else who is struggling.
So, after totally berating a friend of mine (I do have to add this is a MALE friend) about six months back for watching and enjoying 17 Again, I found myself sitting on the couch this last Sunday, flipping through HBO and there it was. My husband was deeply entrenched in World of Warcraft, so I was like, hey, why not? I never get to watch chick flicks (okay, I never get to watch anything besides Sci Fi or Action - blurgh).
I settled in and after a while, I realized I was entranced. And not with the fine filmmaking (even though admittedly, it was pretty funny).
No, I was entranced with the FINE boy.
Are you kidding me? Is he real? I realize I am about five years behind here, but I never had the misfortune to watch any of that High School Musical tomfoolery, so this is my first Efron experience.
It kind of hurts my eyes to look at him, he is so perfect. I can even get past his painfully tousled hair. And the fact that I'm pretty sure he's wearing makeup.
He's that strange kind of good looking where he's almost TOO pretty. Like Rob Lowe. In the 80's.
I mean, really, Rob Lowe? Your beauty is searing my retinas.
And now that I think about it, he bears a striking resemblance to Jordan Catalano Jared Leto. Oh my goodness, how I swooned while I watched My So Called Life. I really GOT how Angela kept going after him, no matter how douchey he was. I mean, HELLO?
Okay, so clearly, I have a type. Which is prettier than me. Dark hair, brooding eyes. I was told, back in the day, my husband strongly resembled Freddie Prize, Jr. By my mother.
How does my mom know who Freddie Prinze, Jr. is? That is something to ponder. Or maybe not.
Tonight, I commandeered the television and watched Julie and Julia. Yes, I have to take hostile and evasive action to watch a chick flick.
Did I like it? Yeah. Not as much as the book (how often to people actually like the move BETTER than the book?). But let's put it this way: I stayed awake. That's saying something.
Two other things:
It made me feel guilty because I am being so lazy about blogging.
It made me very hungry. I am highly suggestible as far as food goes. I haven't been watching Food Network lately because it is not conducive to weight loss. Top Chef? I love that show SO much, but watching the creation of so much glorious, beautiful, delicious food? Torture.
Julie and Julia even made me want to go out and pick up a copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking.
But that would be like an alcoholic picking up martini glasses, just to have them around. For decoration. Since putting the cookbook into actual use would cause immeasurable suffering around my midsection.
I looked wistfully, angrily at my Weight Watchers cookbook as I was turning the lights off in the kitchen tonight. It was mocking me.
NO BUTTER FOR YOU. No souffle. No omelet. No duck l'orange.
(Okay, not like I'd actually whip any of these up)
On that note, I DID manage to finagle a cookie recipe out of my mother in law that my husband is crazy about. However, the recipe calls for two ingredients I literally had to hunt for: vanilla powder and golden syrup. And once I got home and read the recipe, I realized it is very cryptic about how to actually BAKE the cookies and I had to try baking them several different times. The final round got a 'Well, that's CLOSE.'
Really? REALLY? Whatever. I WILL figure these cookies out.
Today, the BTOH (brown truck of happiness, love that) came. It brought two things- a one piece bathing suit that is a size smaller than the one I had to wear this summer...good thing. Even better? A movie I ordered last week. The first film I remember watching as a little kid.
Annie.
Oh, I was obsessed. I wanted to BE Annie. I had the soundtrack on tape. I would perch myself on the windowsill in my room (tough, as it was probably only two inches wide) and sing along to 'Maybe'.
Give me a break. I was six, okay?
For many years, I was convinced I was adopted. I blame Annie. Come on, what kid who saw that movie didn't have the fantasy of beng adopted by Daddy Warbucks? I wanted my bath drawn by Mrs. Greer. And Drake to bring my tray. And Mrs. Pew to come take it away. Dammit.
And Miss Hannegan, Rooster and Lily St. Regis? When you're six, scary - no, TERRIFYING. Now, genius. Could the casting have been any better? I LOVE TIM CURRY.
My mother in law were looking at Amazon the other day trying to pick out some movies for the grandkids. And I saw Annie and just wanted so badly to share it with my nieces (and nephews).
But now I'm kind of scared. How will they react in a world of Hannah Montana (ugh), The Jonas Brothers (dry heave) and High School Musical (seriously, do not even get me started).
I'm sorry, but if they don't like it, I'm disowning them (not really...well, maybe).
Have you seen the movie 'Heathers'? Because apparently, my name is fitting. Probably my junior year of college, my roommate Natalie came home (she was attending the local community college, I was at the local four year) and announced: "I'm doing a group project with someone you went to high school with." It wasn't a huge surprise since I was attending college about 10 miles from where I grew up. "Who was it?" She told me, I won't say who it was here because it's probably irrelevant anyhow. I'll just call her Veronica (okay, if you don't get that please go watch Heathers. I'm serious.) "I asked if she knew Heather Green and she said yes - I told her we're roommates." "And?" "She said 'I'm sorry'." Thus began my soul searching to decide if I really, truly was a bitch in high school. I'll admit, I did some petty things, but overall I always thought I was a nice person. But judging from Veronica's reaction to me, I guess maybe I thought wrong. Bothersome to say the least - I can get obsessive over these things. Probably more then than now. I'm really susceptible to other's opinions of me. B thinks I'm crazy - he's one of those lucky people who thinks everyone can go stick their opinions. Not me. I thought about Veronica's festering dislike of me and tried and tried to remember something I did to her - said about her - even if I looked at her funny at some point. Nothing surfaced. My high school career was filled with a lot of self doubt, loathing, body hatred, you name it. So basically, pretty typical. But my defense mechanism to this was to be ultra type A. Yearbook editor, three sports a year, as many clubs as I could join - you name it, I did it. I made myself so busy that maybe I put off some false aura of confidence. So I guess I embodied Heather to some people. But inside I felt like Martha Dumptruck. I saw Veronica at our high school reunion and I swear I felt like she was trying to impress me, which I found to be very odd and comical. And sad. I guess in high school, we're all Martha Dumptruck.
Are you kidding me? Is he real? I realize I am about five years behind here, but I never had the misfortune to watch any of that High School Musical tomfoolery, so this is my first Efron experience.
I mean, really, Rob Lowe? Your beauty is searing my retinas.
Okay, so clearly, I have a type. Which is prettier than me. Dark hair, brooding eyes. I was told, back in the day, my husband strongly resembled Freddie Prize, Jr. By my mother.