My first Sundance movie is tonight. Let the festival begin!
I just hope Arlo doesn’t let me fall if/when I slip on the ice this year. Last year when it happened I was nice about it. This year that won’t be happening.
I’ll punch him.
Hard.
Sarah: “Hey, I’m going to meet the punk rock kids at the bar to watch the Patriots game. Do you want to come?”
Ben: “I can’t, I’m watching Silence of the Lambs and the game here.”
Sarah: “Um, why?”
Ben: “I’m comparing the two. Hannibal Lecter and the Patriots have lots in common. Hannibal likes to tease his victims and take his time, just like the Patriots.”
Sarah: “I’ll never understand why girls like you. I know you’re a cool guy, but you probably come off as the skin-suit kind of guy.”
Ben: “Chicks dig the mullet.”
Dear Robert Redford,
I’m over Sundance and therefore feel like I should break up with you as well. After years of attending I’m not nearly as excited to go as I once was. Ticket prices have doubled since I started attending and actually getting the films you want is nearly impossible. I did, however, get a few good documentaries and a free dose of humiliation. There are ways to prevent this–I’ll explain.
When choosing where to place your volunteers never, ever put the hard of hearing at the ticket counter. When you are placing an order and you are asked to repeat the film name over and over until you’re yelling it for all to hear it sucks, because undoubtedly the movie will be Good Dicks, causing said elder, female volunteer to blush and you’ll look end up looking like a dirty pervert.
Think ahead and also please stop sucking my bank account dry.
Love,
Sarah
Sarah: “Ben, you have to go see Juno ASAP, it’s really good. Or Sweeney Todd. You can’t beat a throat-slitting barber.”
Ben: “I can’t see that one. You know I’m scared of Tim Burton movies.”
Sarah: “Still? You sort of an adult now.”
Ben: “Sarah, I was four. Not exactly a movie to force a small child to watch over and over. This is totally your fault.”
Sarah: “Well how was I to know you’d grow up to be a baby man.”
Ben: “You have no room to talk, remember, you’re terrified of Silence of the Lambs.”
Sarah: “Because that is REAL! You could be a skin suit at any given time. Beetle Juice isn’t real. Proving once again I’m way tougher than you.”
Ben: “Perhaps tougher, but still in need of therapy. We really should get a therapist on staff for the entire family.”
Last night I drove to West Jordan to meet friends for a movie. I’ve been dying to see Sweeny Todd and they were going, so it was well worth the commute. Plus they don’t suck.
MapQuest totally lied to me—it took way longer than 16 minutes to get there. Luckily I had my new Spice Girls CD to listen to, so I didn’t mind as much. Getting out of the car I was still singing the Wannabe lyrics…
“Yo. I’ll tell you what I want, what I really really want.
So tell me what you want, what you really really want.”
…slightly off-key and entirely louder than I should’ve been, when I heard snickering behind me. Embarrassed I started walking faster, but in my non-weather appropriate footwear that wasn’t such a good idea. I, of course, slipped and in my attempt to keep from falling on my ass I accidentally grabbed the side mirror of a car, nearly tearing it off. It was all sorts of awesome, since the car belonged to the laugher.
So, I’ll tell you what I want, what I really really want. Not to look like a dumb ass in public, but I don’t see that happening anytime soon.
When you enter a movie plan ahead how many seats you’re going need. It’s one thing to ask the people next to you to move down once, but twice… NOT COOL! At that point I’m forced to make a dramatic scene and step over the seats in an effort to move a row ahead, leaving Maddie no choice but to follow. Unfortunately she got her foot stuck in the seat, somehow absorbing my bad karma for being a bitch in public.
We saw “Across the Universe” which was good, but entirely too long for someone who a) had zero patience left due to the above mentioned assholes, and b) self diagnosed attention deficit disorder.
My mood was magically lifted with a glass of red wine and a Red Rock burger. Seriously, that was all it took. Sometimes I’m easy, just don’t mention that to my mom.
