Hey, remember that time I spent all of November writing a craptastic novel and then stopped blogging because I used up all my words that weren't poop-related? Sorry about that.
Anyway. Now I have this 50,000 word monstrosity and I have no idea what to do with it. I mean, I get that now is when some sort of revision process would be going on but I don't even know where to start. To be completely honest, I've been too terrified to even look at anything I wrote last month. Every time I get close to opening the document, I freeze and have a little panic attack, so then I decide to do it later and go about my day.
It's hard to make myself do anything with it when there are so many other things I'd rather be doing. Things like going to see Home Alone IN THE THEATER. Um, yes, please. We went on Saturday because The Neon (aka The Movie Theater That Serves Beer) is running a series of Christmas movies this month. Unfortunately, we missed A Muppet Christmas Carol last weekend on account of I had to go spend a big chunk of my paycheck on new tires (right before Christmas, thanks I-75 construction!) which was super fun. Actually, it wasn't that bad because my parents took me out to breakfast while I waited for the tires to be finished and I got hot chocolate and talked a lot about heartburn because apparently I'm 80 now.
Since we missed A Muppet Christmas Carol and may not be able to go to next Saturday's showing of Little Women (sad face), we wanted to be sure to make it to Home Alone because Home Alone is awesome OBVIOUSLY. I was eight when Home Alone came out and probably haven't seen it in a good 15 years. One thing really struck me this time and that was HOLY LORD THEY LEFT THEIR TINY SON AT HOME. Seriously, he didn't seem that little when I watched it as a kid. I remember being sort of jealous that he got to jump on all the beds and eat ice cream for dinner and smash a guy's face in with a paint can but this time? All I could think about where the terrible, horrible, no good things that could happen to him while he was alone. Also. ALSO! I totally teared up when his mom came home and saw that he'd decorated the tree and put out all their stockings and then the old man next door's family came to visit him and he hugged his estranged son and WAAAAAH.
I'm so ashamed.
After the movie, we decided we should finish Christmas shopping and Joe patiently followed me around Kohl's while I was trying to figure out what to get my Grandma and then we went to Half Price Books and I bought more presents for myself than anyone else (but only by one) and then we went to Target and it broke us. You guys, I am not going back to Target until Christmas is over because there were people EVERYWHERE, including those people who don't understand why everyone gets so angry with them when they block the end of an aisle because they're staring at the dinosaur. I get it, that dinosaur is made of awesome (I play with it every time I'm at Target), but GET OUT OF MY WAY.
Since Target took away our will to live, we were left with no choice but to rent movies and pick up a pizza on the way home. We managed to watch two of them without me falling asleep even once (it's a Christmas miracle!) and then yesterday I (sort of) watched The Family Stone three times while I wrapped presents because I was too lazy to get up and change the DVD. Actually, that's not true. Really, I was hunched over the gift wrap for so long that my back was aching so I was trying not to move unless it was completely necessary because, like I said above, I am apparently 80 now.
Either TBS or TNT has already started playing Home Alone what seems like every other day (I just watched it again last week). Nothing, however, compares to TNT's 24-hour A Christmas Story marathon, though. It's a fine feeling to channel surf safe with the knowledge that when the rest of cable is engaged in a huge festival of suck, there's ONE channel SOMEWHERE that reeks of awesome.
ReplyDeleteYES! That is my favorite thing about Christmas (sorry, Jesus).
ReplyDeleteI had pretty much the same reaction watching Home Alone for the first time in years. Do not be ashamed. Or be ashamed, because I cry a lot.
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