It's like fairy dust... except not.....

Sometimes “Reality” needs to remind you that you are its bitch. And I mean in a very prison sort of way. Occasionally I’ll call these “Bambi Moments”. The type of moments where everything is going great and suddenly it all turns on its end, you’re left wandering confused, and some schmuck claiming to be your father shows up and tells you that your mom is dead. (I mean really… I really felt sorry for Bambi. Not just because his mother died. But because his father, the supposed “Great Prince”, seems to be distant family abandoning jerk who’s very first words to the kid were to tell him that his mom’s gone. It’s a good thing that it was a Disney film or else the little guy would have grown up with some serious issues.) These are the types of moments where you don’t know whether to cry, scream, punch someone, or drink yourself into a coma. (Don’t do it Bambi. Don’t turn to the bottle.)

Moments like:

Driving home from a particularly good date and your car suddenly catches fire.

Being dumped while on vacation…. With her… and her friends…. In a beach house… more than a 10 hour drive away from home…. And you didn’t drive!

Finding out that your 50+ year old father is dating someone a year younger than you are. (Well that’s more of a “WTF Moment”)

“Job?... You don’t have it anymore.”

Those are all just examples. I’m sure some of you have more extreme or more tame Bambi Moments. But it doesn’t make them any less or more traumatizing. (Well maybe they do. But this is MY blog and therefore it’s all about ME.)

Fire?!

The reason why I’m bringing up “Bambi Moments” is because I nearly had one the other night. As I was being dropped off after work I noticed three little girls rushing out of my apartment building. Then I noticed the ominous smoke billowing inside of the building. (It has big glass doors for the main entrance.) Instantly I hit that bizarrely calm mindset (which is actually part of “Freak-out-mode”) where I formulated a strategy instantly. Granted it wasn’t the most rational strategy but whatever.

1. Rush into the building and find the fire alarm

2. Pull fire alarm

3. Rush into my apartment

4. Open the patio door.

5. Find the rabbit cages.

6. Carry the rabbits to safety!

7. Go back into what could now be a blazing inferno.

8. Save computer.

9. Call 911 (maybe should do that first?)

10. Watch building burn down into nothing but smoldering ashes.

11. Freak out

Yes I would save my rabbits before bothering to help my neighbors. Why? Because I like my bunnies more than I like my neighbors. I might try to help the elderly and small children. But definitely not the ghetto-licious tramp that stand in the hallway screaming into her cell phone at the wee hours of the morning. (with all that makeup on she’s probably fire retardant anyway. Although… all that pleather will melt and fuse with her skin.)

As I rushed into the building to fulfill step #1 I realized that it in fact was not smoke. It was an airborne powder substance which smelled AWFUL and made it very difficult to breathe. At that point I had the following thoughts race through my head:

“WTF?”

“The smell… it hurts!”

“What is this stuff?”

“It’s a powder but it sure as hell isn’t talcum.”

“Where did three little girls get a hold of so much powder?!”

“I hope this crap isn’t caustic.”

“Naw… there’s no way little kids could get a hold of something deadly so easily.”

“Oh crap!”

At this point I rushed out of the building and my brain quickly prioritized the list. It jumped straight to #9, skipped #10, and rested on #11 for about 30 minutes.

I waited outside of the building warning neighbors for about an hour. (AN HOUR!) When the fire engines with their flashy lights pulled up I was way beyond my freak out mode and standing in the middle of the all too surreal “acceptance mode”.

I’d like to say that ever since my car fire I’ve been very unimpressed with people who call the fire department or 911 and can’t give even semi decent directions on where the chaos is. This has happened to me twice so far. The first time was the car fire in which a gentleman pulled over (turns out he was an off duty firefighter.) and called his department which was right up the street. Unfortunately there was a none too bright onlooker heading down rte. 29 south who phoned in right after. You see where this is a problem right? Being that my car is a blazing inferno on rte. 29 NORTH and the 2^nd caller told them that it was on 29 SOUTH, the truck went in the WRONG direction. (Oh and I also blame the dispatch. I mean who would you believe? The guy who called in first who you KNOW works for your station, or the rubbernecking moron who calls in second and reports it in a different direction?)

Back to the powder story.

Someone had called the fire department after I did and gave them the WRONG address which took the fire truck to the other side of that apartment complex. The driver then spent the remaining time searching until they came across the group standing outside of my building. (Thanks random do gooder who can’t get directions or addresses right. It was VERY cold out there.)

A single man jumps from the fire engine and strolls (casually mind you. Casually strolls as if it’s a sunny day in the park) into the building without saying a word to me. I watch as he looks around half heartedly as if he were in someone’s crappy yard sale. When he emerged from the building he walked directly to me. (Most likely because I flagged him down when he walked out of the building.)

“Would you happen to know what that stuff is?” I asked when he got into ear shot.

“Yeah.” That was it. Just a “yeah”.

I realized that maybe I should be precise in my questioning.

“Could you tell me what it is please?” I wasn’t being a smart ass. I was being concerned. I had been in the building, breathed some of it in, and was at that point coughing up phlegm every 10 minutes.

“It’s extinguisher chemical.” He said plainly and with a “duh! You should know this” look on his face.

You see that word in bold right there? That word by isn’t very frightening. But in the right conversation or situation it scares the crap out of people. My brain did some quick word math and came up with this:

Chemical + Lungs =…. (drum roll)….. -You

(I know that was complicated so let me put it into layman’s terms for you…. DEATH)

“Chemical?” I coughed (alot).

“Sir, you have nothing to worry about. It’ll just take a while for your lungs to clear out.”

I’d like to take this time to also state that I am very unimpressed with most “emergency responders” inability to not act as if someone’s crisis is no more than a minor annoying inconvenience to them. Sure it’s good to keep a calm and level head. But when you hit that point where you come off as nonchalant or apathetic you just seem like an asshole. Even if the situation isn’t dire, a touch of compassion in your voice or face does a lot.

“You’re sure?” I asked, because his blank face really wasn’t convincing me. That and I wonder how often he breathed the stuff in.

“Yes sir. As long as you didn’t breathe in mass amounts you should be fine.”

I had thought about asking him what he considered “mass amounts” were. Hell! to me, one breathe of that stuff was a mass amount. It was definitely more than I wanted. I decided not to ask. At that point I hacked up yet another large lung cookie, pulled a cigarette out, and lit up. It was then that he stared at me in utter disbelief as I stood there hacking batter and smoking.

After the building aired out, the powder settled, and I deemed it to be a non Bambi Moment I went inside and began another movie night. (After showering. That extinguisher powder really coats thing well.) I also verbally reaffirmed with the rabbits that they would be the first I save in a crisis situation….. unless I have a girlfriend. The rabbits visually reaffirmed that they will continue to look cute while being rescued in a crisis situation.

So since there was another movie night that means I’m going to write about. Much to your dismay.

Finding Neverland

This is an excellent movie. I down settled down expecting to see some blah blah boring documentary smothered in the glitz of Hollywood glamour. You know what I’m talking about. The type of stuff you watch and realize it’s a boring dried turd rolled in honey and sprinkled generously with sparkling caustic fairy dust manufactured in some third world sweat shop. (Go figure.. my word processor has no idea how to spell “turd”.) What I found was in fact something sparkling and beautiful and it didn’t smell faintly of poo. (Oh look. It can’t spell “poo” either. Curse you spell check.. CURSE YOU!) The movie essentially is a documentary slathered in Hollywood sauce. But they did a very good job of it.

I had been warned by a friend that the movie was boring. In fact she said that she hated it because she didn’t want or need to know “the back story”. And after watching the film I can say, “Woman! You’ve got no heart, no curiosity, or no sense of imagination. I listen to you no more!”. I’m really glad I didn’t listen to her. This movie was gold to me. The entire cast was excellent and the story (a true one mind you) was great. There were a few parts in there that were meant to be tear jerkers. Scenes meant solely and explicitly to squeeze the heart hard and force the tear ducts to react in urinating down your face. They were easily recognizable scenes to us stone cold bitter bastards. (Ok… so I wept… only a little though. Come one! It was near the end! It was sooooo touching. They were tears of joy… I swear. Shut up! I know what you’re thinking!)

The movie is about Sir James M. Barrie. (You will refer to him as “Sir”!) A playwright who finds himself down and out (I’m sensing a theme in the movies I watch) and lacking inspiration after a play of his flops. On a walk in the park with his dog he happens across a widow and her four young boys, who become his muse and impetus to write the beloved story of (If you haven’t guessed it yet) “Peter Pan”.

(Did you know that Peter Pan was actually where the name “Wendy” began?.... HA! I did… a long time ago. That makes me better than you if you didn’t know. BETTER THAN YOU!)

Of course I learned tons of Life Lessons from this film. But I really think that if I have to point them out to you then you’re beyond dense.

Oh ok… I’ll write a few.

Life Lessons:

1. It’s all about the imagination and magic.

2. Wait for the fairy dust you moron!

3. Kate Winslet and four boys can cure writer’s block.

That’s it for now. If you can’t gather any Life Lessons from this movie then you’re really lame…….. or a zombie.

Sin City

Do I really have to say anything about this movie?!

I swear, if you haven’t seen it then you’ve most likely been living under a rock. (Probably the same I was hiding and boozing under for a couple of years. Well at least I saw this movie when it hit the theaters. What’s your excuse, lame-tard?!...... I’m waiting….. Shut up! Your excuses and bantering mean nothing to me! Go watch this movie now!)

So, this movie is great! I’d give those of you who haven’t seen it a synopsis, but I’m really disappointed in the fact that you haven’t seen it yet.

I have gotten a few Life Lessons from it all. I’m feeling kind enough to post them.

Life Lessons:

1. Punching your partner is probably a bad idea.

2. An old slightly paunchy bastard can still get a hot chick. (You just have to wait.)

3. Even old slightly paunchy bastards can be badasses.

4. You really don’t need makeup to make Mickey Rourke a scary mo-fo. (But it does help to inspire extreme pants soiling.)

5. Killing a hooker may end up in you getting shot. And that’s not good.

6. Can’t kill a man without knowing for sure you ought to.

7. Hot women are in color while everything else is black and white.

8. Make sure that blonde hooker doesn’t have a twin sister, or else you’re gonna get a nasty pistol whipping.

9. An inversed “Charlie Brown” sweater equals an ass kicking.

10. Look out! Evil Frodo is sneaking up on you!

11. Frodo WILL kick your ass.

12. Mickey Rourke+Guard Dog=PETA on your ass!

13. Guard dogs are nothing to Mickey Rourke.

14. Boobs!

15. Goldie worked the clergy.

16. When a large man asks for rubber tubing, razor wire, and gloves…

17. Marv is badass!

18. Beware the phrase, “That there is one damn fine coat you're wearin'.”!

19. A nutjob’s guard dogs can be your friends.

20. The name “Kevin” should make you crap yourself in fear.

21. A hatchet to the nuts is a world of pain. And really not funny except for the guy with the hatchet.

22. Frodo really scares me now.

23. ok really? Boobs!

24. The name Dwight should make you crap yourself.

25. Tar pits and sewers are not your friend.

26. If Josh Hartnet says he loves you…. RUN!

27. Hookers scare me now.

28. It’s a very big mistake not to flush.

29. Pez dispensers can be funny, gross, and scary all the same time.

30. Rescue little girls in trouble. They might turn into Jessica Alba later.

31. You can use quotes from this movie for anything that happens in your life.

There! You happy now?! Go watch the freaking movie!

(I actually had to watch Sin City just to balance myself out after Finding Neverland.)