More musings:
Okay, I'll come out and say it, Harry Potter is hot. And I don't care who hears me say it; I've been saying it since the first movie, when he was just 11. So of course now that he's 15 and it's even less creepy, I'll be shouting it from the rooftops. Sometimes you can just tell when a kid is going to grow up to be a hottie, so my advice is to keep your eyes on this guy! One of these days he'll even be legal!
I have recently learned, to my horror and embarrassment, that my husband is sneaking around behind my back, so if someone tells you that we're separated, it's probably true. There are a lot of possibilities that you must consider when you get married, and at some point, almost everyone wonders what they would do should the worst ever happen to them. But none of us ever believe that our wonderful husbands would actually lie, deceive, and generally just become a whole different person. If we believed it could happen, why would we marry? So even though we may think about the worst, we never think it will happen to us, and then it does. I should have seen all the signs...I mean, as it turns out, it was happening right here in my own house, and that's what makes it hurt so much. There were little plastic chips scattered on the carpet. Like a fool, I picked them up while vacuuming and never even mentioned them to him. Then he started inexplicably buying troll dolls, and he actually had me convinced it was for a prank Christmas gift for his dad. But then I caught him in the act one day, and now everything is different, everything is clear to me, and it makes my stomach churn. I asked him how he could do such a thing, and he said he didn't know. He said he doesn't even enjoy it! And how could he? Jason is playing bingo all alone at night when I'm asleep or during the day when I'm gone out. There's no one to call the numbers for him. There's no one racing to fill up their card before him. He's so ashamed, he felt he had to hide it from me. But now the secret's out, and it's all I can do to honour my vows, for better or for worse.
Charles Dickens is giving me nightmares again. I mean, I'm innocently reading A Tale of Two Cities, and it's all nice, all happy little family, and then suddenly it's all blood and guts: first he'll be "drawn on a hurdle to be half hanged, and then he'll be taken down and sliced before his own face, and then his inside will be taken out and burnt while he looks on, and then his head will be chopped off, and he'll be cut into quarters." And believe me, that's the friendliest sentence, because it doesn't involve any hot oil. Those people were really into their punishements back then. And then whole town would gather to watch this happen, for entertainment. And they had food vendors and kegs of beer to make it even more of a social gathering. Which is sickening, but it reminds me of a lot of stuff that goes on today. Oh, we don't watch that stuff live, but lots of people do pay $8 a seat to watch in on the big screen, all the while munching on their buttery popcorn. I do not like to go see horror movies, or excessively violent movies. I don't think it's entertaining to watch people die, and I think it's a really sad commentary on our society that this is a billion dollar enterprise. I mean, we can read that above quote and agree that it is "barbaric", and yet people were lined up to see Saw in theatres just last week. And I can tell you, there is no artistic merit in that movie. It's not a story that needed to be told. It's just a movie where you can watch a bunch of people die agonizing and horrifying deaths. And why does anyone want to see that? We may as well be the angry mob, foaming at the mouth, that Dickens was describing back in 1775. I can maybe understand a movie like Saving Private Ryan, which is also very bloody and violent, but it serves a purpose other than just shock and titilation. War IS terrible, and hopefully we can learned from our mistakes and not have to go through that again. I had a hard time watching that movie, especially knowing that for a lot of scared young men, it was reality. But when watching it in a theatre with 200 other people, I realized I was the only person turning away. And that's because people are used to seeing the spray of blood. It's normal. And it shouldn't be.
Jason has a thing for hot apple cider from Tim Horton's lately. Which I think is gross, but I indulge him in these things, and I try to keep my comments to myself. And he keeps urging me to try it, I might like it, even though I keep insisting that I have tried it, and I don't like it, I don't even like apple juice, and I don't need to keep putting things I consider disgusting in my mouth just to test his theories. But anyway, Jason likes to go to Tim's a lot, because he is also a coffee drinker (large double double), though I am also not a fan of coffee. He wanted to bring some to work, but they have a policy concerning drinks that states it either has to be in a resealable bottle, or a spill-proof cup. I told him I had such a thing at home, my thermal coffee mug that I received from my last place of employment, and promptly never once used. But then Jason confessed that he'd already shattered it months ago, and needed a new one. So we bought one from Tim Horton's, filled with apple cider, and of course they were conveniently out of the normal sizes and we had to spring for the EXTRA LARGE which I will from here forward refer to as Penis Cup, because if ever I saw a phallic image, this was it. Definitely compensating for something. And filled with cider, our car was smelling like an orchard (I was going to say it smelled like the diaper of a baby who's had too much apple sauce, but that's just mean). Anyway, Jason brought the Penis Cup to work (and boy does he hate it when I call it that!) and by first break, he realized that his bladder can contain about one sip less than what a Penis Cup contains, because on the tail end of his last call, he was standing in his office doing the dance, and then he slammed the phone down and made a run for it. So the Penis Cup stayed home today, empty. Hah.
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