SMARTJUICE

Let's Go To The Movies

My parents. Oh, my parents. My parents could be the source of many entries here at smartjuice because they make me laugh so much. It is all unintentional laughter of course, but laughter none the less. I love and respect my parents and genuinely enjoy spending time with them. I'm not like their evil daughter who moved to the 49th state for a Canadian boy, forcing my mother to say things like, "That's fine..I don't need to know my grand kids" and "I'm sure I'll get used to only seeing you once a year, because that's normal". Evil, evil daughter. Why do you hate our parents? Why do you make them cry?

Anyway, this is not about my evil sister. This is about the people that created and gave birth to evil incarnate.  My parents can be so hilariously clueless at times, and nothing demonstrates this more than their knowledge and appreciation of current and popular movies. Now, when I say 'knowledge' and 'appreciation', you might think they possess both of these. Alas, they do not. Not even a little. My parents don't like to even go to the movie theater. They think the screen is too big and the sound is too loud. The only time they go is with their good friends, but I suspect the only reason they go then is because my mom and her friend get a charge from sneaking in all types of snacks in their purses.

On a side note, one time I went to a movie with my dad and he wanted to sneak in a giant back of trail mix. So he wrapped his jacket around it, placed it all on the counter to buy his ticket, then promptly walked off with his jacket and left the giant bag on the counter. The ticket lady just looked at the bag, then at me, so I just grabbed the bag and walked away quickly.

But back to the point. My parents have very refined movie tastes. How refined you might ask? So refined that my mom's favorite actor is Jeanne Claude Van Damme. I swear those are the only types of movies that hold her interest. And my dad will watch ANY movie about ANY war that comes on TCM or AMC. Let us not even talk about how they can never remember if they have even seen a certain movie or not. They will say, "We went to the movies with the Garrett's the other day", and I will say, "What did you see?", to which they reply, "Well, we took a small bag of M&M's and peanuts, and we put cans of Coke in our coat pockets, and the Garrett's brought some popcorn from home and it was a good time." You can imagine how difficult it is to rent them movies from Blockbuster. There have been many instances where I've had to go right back up to the rental counter and ask if I can trade a movie because it turns out my parents have actually seen it. Blockbuster employees are usually very understanding about this.

So, taking into account their lack of knowledge of current movies, it was a real treat to sit with my mom for a half-hour and watch the Oscars. This is how it went down:

Mom: Who is that?

Me: She is Hilary Swank.

Mom: What does she do?

Me: She's an actor. She's in that movie with Clint Eastwood. The one about boxing.

Mom: She's in that movie?

Me: Yes. It's a really good movie. She's pretty good. She's the boxer.

Mom: She's the boxer?

Me: Yes, why?

Mom: Well, I thought that movie was about black people?

Me: No, it's about a female boxer. Are you thinking of 'Ray'? That is about black people.

Mom: Matt, I know who Ray Charles is. Is that the guy from that movie?

Me: Yes. His name is Jamie Foxx. He is from Texas.

Mom: He's from Texas? How did he get to be in that movie?

Me: Well, it's a little unheard of, but there are working actors from Texas.

Mom: But how did he get involved in movies in the first place?

Me: He auditioned? I don't know.

Mom: Why.....

Me: Enough. Oscars are over. The end.

Oh, my parents and their limited movie knowledge. I love it.

What They Were Really Saying

As a side job, I assist a few celebrity event photographers with their work. I travel with them to events and hand them lenses, film, etc. It's not all that lucrative and the constant travel can be a little much, but thankfully I am provided with a super speed jet that gets me back for my actual job. But the best thing about this job is that I get to witness what really happens in the press lines and the paparazzi frenzy. I've talked a Iittle bit about it here. I get to actually hear what these celebrities and public figures are actually saying as the flashes pop. So just for you guys, I thought I would share some more. Y'all are special like that.

Christina Milian was saying: I didn't even give Paris my number! Now I have Jethro from Alabama calling me 37 times a day asking me what I'm wearing!

Paris was saying to Frankie Muniz: Wait? You're 18 now? Oh, then we can totally do it. Let me go get my T-Mobile Sidekick so we can take pictures.

Jane Seymour was saying: Yes, I DO deserve to be at the premier for 'Be Cool'. What are you trying to say? Dr. Quinn is the epitome of cool. That's what my agent told me.

Kirstie Alley was saying: Yeah, I just got back from the CiCi's buffet. Jealous?

      

Mena Suvari was saying: No, no, no.....I saw you take my poker chip bitch. Don't even try to tell me you didn't.

Hilary's sister was saying: Hahahaha...did you hear that? They accidentally called me Hilary.

Hilary was saying: Oh I heard it skank. Keep laughing. Not even Pedro can save you from my wrath.

The Queen was saying: Yes, yes, hello, hello. Jolly good time. If I throw this hat just right, I think I could take of Camilla's head. Would you fancy that?   

Well, that's all I've been able to witness so far. The Queen said that leaving comments is the polite thing to do. And Jane Seymour said that although she may not 'Be Cool', people that join the notify list sure are. And I promise that no one will hack into the list and post your information on the internet. Promise.

Fore

Work, work, work, President's Day, and now work again. That has been my life. Well, I take that back. I fully intended on posting another entry on Friday, but me and my co-workers decided to just goof off most of the day. We have been working our tails off and we needed a day to do nothing but appear to be doing everything. I apologize for my absence. Please forgive me.

Two weekends ago I went to Houston for the gathering of some of my best friends from college. I'll go into more detail about all this in another post because I could go on and on about these people. The point of this entry is the stellar game of golf I played with my friends, Drew and Andrew. And by 'stellar', I really mean horrible, comical, and mildly retarded all at the same time. I am multi-talented.

Golf, like most sports, is something that you have to practice. No one can automatically just go and play a good round of golf. I don't get to practice golf that much. And by 'that much', I really mean hardly at all. Golf ain't cheap kids. It pains me to shell out $30-$50, depending on where you play. So my golf game is a little lacking. My friends play more than I do, so their games are much better. Therefore, when I play with them, wacky high jinx ensue.   

First of all, I wouldn't call what I was doing that day 'golf'; it was more like one giant game of croquet. And half the time I would miss the ball entirely, which makes you look really cool by the way. I would get about one good drive out of every 10 that I attempted. So 10% of my drives resembled something that you are supposed to see on a golf course. 10%! Tiger Woods, I am not.

And you think someone with hardly any golf skills wouldn't be so consistent with where they hit the balls. Oh, but I was. I would consistently hit the balls as far away from the cart path as I could. You at least want to remain close to the cart path so you don't have to walk all over the course for your shots. That would have been too easy though. So while Drew and Andrew would drive along the path, jumping out every once in awhile to take their next shot, I was on the opposite side of the hole, walking the length of the entire course and playing my private game of croquet. 

I used to think I was good at putting. I always did well at Put-Put, and I love to figure out where the ball will go based on the slope of the green, etc. However, I found that without the giant windmill or clown's head, I lose a little bit of interest in putting. I'm like, "I just have to aim at that hole? That's all? Where's the fun in that? Screw it, I'm going back to the cart."

But the actual playing of the game is secondary to the best thing about golf. You want to know what the best thing about golf is? All of the rampant innuendo. For example, these are actual quotes from our round.

"How many balls do you have? Two?"

"I'm trying to aim for your ball."

"Hold up, I need to wash my ball."

"I am having problems getting under the ball."

"I've played this entire round with one ball."

And this is why golf, for that 12 year old boy in my heart, is completely worth it.

Any golf stories you would like to share?

That Was My Move

Just wanted to pop in real quick because of THIS.

Guys, this is my move. Whenever I get mad at people I always threaten to throw a shoe at their head. I have proof of this in emails. And then someone goes and does it for real? I knew I should have got a patent on it years ago. Can I sue?

Also, a longer and better entry will be up later today. It's about golf. Did you know golf was funny? It is. I promise!

Februarium II - Day 3

Man, I suck. You see, I took a last minute trip out of town and was without internet access for the weekend. I didn't get the chance to update for Februarium, and now I'm all tired and not sure if I have the energy to whip up something amusing for the 4 of you that read this site. Let's just see what I come up with, shall we.

Day 3 Topic: When You've Loved. Write either a brief history of your love life, or a single story about the love of your lifetime.

What about a brief story and puppy love? I was about 4 and my family had just moved on to our new street. My parent's had found me a suitable day care and I began attending when school started back up in the fall. It turns out there was a girl in the same daycare that lived on our street, so our parent's put together a little carpool. Her name was Heather, and we were 4 year olds in love. What does it even mean to be a 4 year old in love? Well, for Heather and I it meant riding bikes and watching television. I remember that she gave me a Stay Puff marshmallow man for Christmas, and I thought that was pretty cool. Heather and I also told our parent's that we were going to live together when we grew up, but not be married. I'm sure our parent's loved to hear their 4 year olds talk about their future plans for living in sin. I think that we were just very progressive for 4 year olds.

The one story that is etched in my mind about this love involves bicycles and red tights. Heather was wearing red tights while we were riding our bikes, all care free and in love. Then Heather tried to ride without any hands, which was very brave for a 4 year old to do. Needless to say, Heather fell off that bike in about 2 seconds. When she fell, she ripped her pretty red tights. That's when Heather started to cry. And scream. And wail. And then she ran home. I just remember being so annoyed that play time was over because the precious red tights got a rip in them.Evidently the destruction of the red tights was stronger than our love.

Februarium II - Day 2

 

I figured out the graphic. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a graphic.

Okay, continuing with our theme, I present to you Februarium II - Day 2.

Today's topic: What you love.

Good morning,

I fell asleep next to you last night. Again. I can't help it though. I'm transfixed by you and I cannot tear myself away. You lull me to sleep and the next thing I know is that it's morning. Even when I come home late from dinner or a date with GF, I turn to you. I can't help it.

How long have we known each other? It's been a long time. I think my parents must have introduced us. Some parents are reluctant to do that this day and age, but mine weren't. You kept me entertained and out of trouble. Sometimes they would try to separate us, but it was never for very long. I guess sometimes we need to be separated. Sometimes we need our rest and our space. Sometimes I need to get things done without you. I grew up with you, and you grew up with me. We have history, me and you.

Some people I know don't like you all that much. They say that you don't interest them. Others say that you are too moody. Sometimes you are all happy-go-lucky, while other times you are intense and dramatic. Sometimes you are focused solely on reality. It's okay that you're a little moody though. I understand that. I get that. I get you.

You have become a little more racy and obscene through the years. If I was a young child now, I'm not sure if my parents would endorse our relationship like they did back then. Sometimes you show your private parts. And you cuss. A lot. And even though the cuss words are the equivalent of s^*t and f&*k, everyone knows what you really mean. We aren't stupid. Don't get me wrong, I'm not busting your balls or anything. I can handle it, but sometimes I don't think my younger cousins can. 

But this isn't about them. This is about you and me. You have opened up entire new worlds to me. You have broadened my horizons so much, and what have I done for you? Hardly anything. Well, I've always made sure you had a nice home and a roof over your head. I clean you sometimes. So there was that one time I dropped you in college, but you took it like a champ. I only dropped you a few inches. I'm sorry about that. It was during finals and I was stressed. In my defense, I've carried your ass up many flights of stairs, and you are not light. But that's okay. I would do it for eternity.

Ours is a love affair for the history books. I can't wait to grow old with you. What do I love, you might ask? Television, I love you.

Februarium II - Day1

Hello all,

Coleen, of Hussified fame, asked me to participate in a collaboration about love for the five days leading up to Valentine's Day. I thought it would be pretty fun and a good way to discover some good site's and good writers. I can't say that my entries will be entirely serious in nature; that's just not who I am. Actually, most of them will be somewhat comical. Anyway, click HERE for the Februarium website, which explains the process and the topics for each day, as well as the other participants.

Day 1: Who Do You Love? This is a love letter to anyone. Or no one in particular.

Ode to that Special Lady in My Life

Little Debbie,

You seducer, you siren, you temptress.

In your blue check shirt and white hat,

you sit smiling at me.

You offer me many snacks that you know I don't need.

But I cannot resist your charm,

and I cannot resist your Oatmeal Cream Pies.

Regular, not Reduced Fat.

Because with the Reduced Fat?

Little Debbie, you made a mistake.

But I will not hold that against you,

you sexy thing.

Your Nutty Bars call to me,

as if I was a sailor lost at sea,

swimming towards the foghorn in the distance.

And then you went and put double peanut butter on them.

Do you not know my weakness Little Debbie?

I am but a man.

And you Little Debbie,

most certainly know how to exploit a man's weakness.

Oh Little Debbie,

I cannot control myself.

You pull me towards your snack time goodness,

like a moth to the flame.

I love you Little Debbie.

I really do.

But I worry,

I ponder,

I wonder,

I fret,

Will YOU still love me when I am a fat ass?

For Posterity's Sake

This past weekend GF and I had dinner with some good friends of mine from the old days. Amisita and Carol Brady are two girls who ran around in my big mix of high school friends and have kept in contact with me. Amisita got married a little over a year ago, and her husband Josh has become a very welcome addition to our group. Carol Brady was the recipient of a very unfortunate haircut a long time ago that made her look very similar to the actual Carol Brady. Fittingly, Carol Brady's real name is the same, minus the Brady part. Carol Brady recently became engaged to James, who despite being our elder by a few years, is a funny and good guy. Carol Brady is also the one who introduced me to GF, so I'd like to give a special thank you to Carol Brady.

Thank you, Carol Brady.

Anyway, we all met at a great Mexican place in Ft. Worth where we bonded over fajitas and drank the tart goodness that is the margarita. Good food, good margaritas, good company, great night. 

I mentioned earlier that Carol Brady and James are engaged. Their wedding is quickly approaching and I am looking forward to attending. I will get to see some friends that I don't see often, and GF and I will get to attend yet another wedding. Weddings are quickly becoming the crack-rock that our relationship is based upon. Without them, we would be huddled in some alley going through withdrawal. I am mainly looking forward to this wedding because I have made a vow that in any picture taken of me, I will look composed and respectable. This has not always been the case.

For instance, Amisita and Josh's wedding. It was one snazzy affair and my friends and I did it up right. "Why yes bartender, I will have another beer. How bout you give me two for good measure." The dinner was over, the dancing had begun and the alcohol was still flowing freely. And the camera man was roaming around. Oh, the camera man. He is a double-edged sword, that camera man. On one hand, he is helping Amisita and Josh remember their special day forever. On the other hand, he is not showing ANY judgment as to when he should take a picture. How about I provide you with a list of when the camera man should NOT take a picture:

1. When I am staring at the ground with wild eyes because I may or may not be wondering if the floor is moving.
2. When I have my arms draped around people I don't really know because they have suddenly become my best friend.
3. When I am engaged in a freak train. (Yes, you heard me. A FREAK TRAIN. What am I? A teenager in 1997?)
4. When I am holding four long necks. In each hand.
5. Just don't take a picture of me after the dinner. Or during the dinner. Or at the reception at all. How about right before the ceremony?

I can't fully blame the camera man though. You see, in each of these circumstances I felt that these pictures were a good idea. I willingly posed for these pictures. Heck, I probably called the camera man over. I went to bed thinking, "my friends are going to have the best wedding pictures because of me". So now, 20 years down the road, my friends can go back and look at these pictures and recoil in terror at how ridiculous I was. I will be recoiling right next to them.

But not this time. Oh no, not this time. Composure. Respectability. Maturity. That will be me. I can do it. Why am I so confident?

Alcohol-free reception.

Anyone else have moments of genius captured on wedding film forever? Tell me about it.

Oh, Monica

Most mornings when I get to work, I read cnn.com to get caught up on world events, etc. Like today they had this really funny article on Ned Flanders and the Simpsons, which isn't really a world event, but it was definitely the first link that I clicked. I hopped on the site because I wanted to read about the State of the Union. I chose not to watch it last night. Instead, I chose to go to dinner and then to Border's to browse around the books and to find an atlas to figure out how far it is from Dallas to Chicago. (933 miles, by the way.) So I click on the picture gallery link to see if there were any good Twins pictures, and I was dumbfounded to see this:

Okay, does anyone else think that this little thumbnail pic resembles Monica Lewinsky at all? Anyone? In actuality, this is the full-size picture:

And it becomes quite clear that this is, most likely, NOT Monica Lewinsky.

But when I saw that thumbnail I could not wrap my brain around it. Why is Monica at the State of the Union address? Is that appropriate? Is she a guest of the GOP's? Is she taunting the Dem's by holding up two fingers as if she was saying, "Two terms, suckas." But she IS a democrat. She interned for Clinton, and by that I mean she interned for Clinton. Is she making a V for virginity, cause we all know that's a sham. Or is she referring to....her lady parts? Like, "Hey Billy, come and get it!" Oh lord.

It turns out she is this very important Iraqi lady who did all these great Iraqi things, and I turned her into a sex-crazed Lewinsky. Who knew?

I Need Some Morfeen As Well

Man alive guys, it has been a little crazy. It's the busiest time of the year in regards to my job and they sure have been getting their money's worth with me. Not only have I not posted in a while, but I haven't been able to comment on anyone else's sites either, and I hope they don't hate me for that. Then this past weekend GF and I went to a dinner/game party on Friday night, then an out-of-town wedding the rest of the weekend. I will definitely be sharing some choice stories from all of this at a later date. But I didn't want to just say nothing for so long, so I am going to cheat a little and use this post to display some great emails I've received from a friend of mine lately.

You see, many of my friends get to come in contact with crazy people. I'm talking ca-razy. These emails are from my friend who is in medical school and has been doing rounds at a major public hospital in his city. And they are awesome.

To: smartjuice

From: Dr. Brian

Re: Sexual Activity

Encounter with 16 year old girl
dr: are you sexually active?
patient: no
[we suspect that the girl has an std so we run the tests anyway, and it comes back positive for both gonorrhea and chlamydia]
dr: your tests came back and showed that you have gonorrhea and chlamydia.
do you know how you might have gotten this?
girl: i dunno. probably from my boyfriend
dr: i thought you said that you're not sexually active
girl: i'm not. i usually just lay there.

Encounter with a 15 year old girl
dr: how many sexual partners have you had
girl: five
[dr get's surprised holy crap kind of look on face]
girl: what? geez, i'm only 15 ya know.

To: smartjuice

From: Dr. Brian

Re: I Need Drugs, Man

apparently there was a guy walking around the hospital today and he had gotten his hands on a prescription form.  no big deal, there's stacks of them lying around the hospital. they're useless unless you have a physicians' id number to sign it
with. anyway, this guy had taken a script form and written on it: "morfeen
2lb to go" and was going all around the hospital trying to fill it.  nevermind
that that's obviously not anywhere close to how a prescription is written or
that he spelled morphine about as much wrong as you possibly can, or that
morphine doesn't come by the pound.  i found this unbelievably amusing.

I do too Dr. Brian. I do too.