I had a nice day off today, getting tons of work done on piddly tasks that needed to be done, then going to the movies with the hubby and the two eldest in the afternoon. Not bad for a nasty, precipitous, gray Indiana day where your best bet is probably just to roll over and go back to sleep for the day.
As usual, we were running late to the movie, because it takes time to get two teenagers rousted about and ready. We were met at the door by a couple who said that if we were trying to see "Four Christmases," we were out of luck, because something had gone wrong, and they weren't showing it. Walked up to the counter annoyed, because I hate being late to the movies -- it takes time to get tickets and snacks, get settled, make sure the cell phone is off, then lean back and get ready for the show. It's a process. A process which was being interrupted by a guy who was so upset that he wasn't getting to see his movie of choice that he was yelling at the manager, despite the free passes he'd already been given, while his wife and daughter stood there looking mortified. I jumped right in and asked if we could get tickets for Australia, which broke up the argument. I went ahead and got the seats, while Dan got the snacks. Of course, with four of us there, the first bucket of popcorn is done before the opening credits, so Dan took off for a refill, and a command to let him know what he misses when he gets back.
The only thing he missed is seeing that Nicole Kidman will be a sure bet for scariest thin actress of the year. I failed to mention that we were seeing "Australia," but if you decide to see it, look at her arm when they are rowing her to the island, when she arrives from Britain. Her forearm is SCARY.
The movie was a compilation of paradoxes -- beautiful scenery, then suddenly awful, cheesy backdrops. Great horseback riding, then amateurish special effects. Acting that was all over the place. Jill and I spent a good portion of the film trying to figure out if the bad guy really WAS the actor who played Faramir in the Lord of the Rings series, which Thomas adamantly refused to believe but, when the credit ran, turned out to be true.
The one constant in the film was Hugh Jackman, who is nothing short of hot. Jill, of course, refused to allow me to acknowledge this saying that she had already laid claim to him. I pointed out that she already at her four husband limit, but she was having none of that. "You are MARRIED. And I don't want to hear you say....." she said. "What? Just because I'm on a diet doesn't mean I can't look at the menu." "THAT!" she proclaimed. "I don't want to hear THAT." Oh well, it's the truth. I'm married, not dead, for heaven's sake.
Jill's rules for "old people" are multitudinous. I'm not allowed to acknowledge hotness when I see it. Certain music is off limits -- even though it's mandatory to listen to it when she's in the car. I'm most definitely not allowed to text, because "when old people text, it just means they're trying to be young." And on and on and on. The girl forgets that her parents don't generally live within the rules, but we just smile and move along. Some day, she'll get it, but no time soon.
Meantime, enjoy Hugh, the dessert on the menu that we grownups aren't supposed to have.