I've Never Been Lucky! Not One Time!

Saturday afternoon, Johnny and I had a Date.

We never do this -- seriously, never -- but we had a $50 Bertucci's gift card, and I had an inexplicable but undeniable desire to see the Chipmunks movie. Can't explain it except to say that those squeaky little buggers always did manage to make me laugh, the new CGI ones are so tootin' cute, and you really can't much go wrong with the Devil playing Dave and all.

Alvin!

Tee hee.

Anyway, it was sold out.

I ate lunch, we mapped out our afternoon around movie houses that were near Bertucci's and also JC Penney -- because something that I wanted was on sale there but not till after four o'clock. So I went on line and googled and got directions to a mall twenty minutes from my house that I never even knew existed. But then, I'm not a big mall person anyway.

Did you know that malls aren't necessarily all in the same building anymore? And that there's a big driveway that circles all around them, with signs at each entrance to the parking lot telling you which stores are in the area? And it doesn't matter anyway because if you turn in near the store you want to go to, you'll just end up in a line behind twenty other drivers all looking for the same nonexistent parking space?

Yeesh.

So the movie theater wasn't technically in the mall, it was sort of behind it and across the street. But there were parking spots there! So huzzah! Johnny had to pee, so we practically ran in, only to see a sign posted on the door telling us that the 2:50 Alvin & the Chipmunks movie was sold out. Good lord, who the hell is going to see Alvin & the Chipmunks at 2:50 in the afternoon across the street from a shopping mall on the next to last Saturday before Christmas?

Oh. Yeah. Well. Apparently not me.

My first thought was "What will we see instead?" Because here we were, parked and everything, and I couldn't go to JC Penney for an hour and a half. But Johnny's first thought was "Will they let me use the bathroom anyway?" Which they did. And his second thought was "Let's go to Bertucci's and have a beer!"

Which we did.

Now, I haven't been to Bertucci's in a while, and I'd forgotten all about their bread. Marón! But if you suck down two Bertucci's rolls with olive oil and garlic, then two chicken wings that your hungry husband ordered as an appetizer and that you don't know why you ate because you weren't that hungry and you're not even all that fond of chicken wings, then you don't so much want the head-sized calzone that you ordered. And it's possible that you knew you wouldn't want it, seeing as how you ate lunch just an hour and a half ago, because you thought you were seeing a movie and going shopping first, but the calzone is what you decided you were ordering when you decided you were going to Bertucci's, and so you ordered it anyway, goddamnit, and you took it home.

It was still really good when I heated it up later. To be perfectly honest, I didn't exactly wait till I was hungry, either. And I am infinitely glad we didn't eat at someplace called Cozymel's and get served something that looks like throw-up. Anyway...

We went from Bertucci's to JC Penney (anytime either of them might want to send endorsement checks, by the way, I'm ready -- those toys ain't just gonna buy themselves!). I got my bargain at Je Suis Pénible and we went home.

Hm. Do you think I might have kiboshed my endorsement deal with that one? Ah, well.

When we got home I called My Best Friend to bitch and moan about how nothing ever works out for me, never, not one time, and she gave me permision to open her Christmas present early -- my Christmas present from her, which had arrived three days before and which I actually hadn't opened yet, which is some kind of Christmas miracle right there. And which I'd seen on the box that it came from the Discovery Store, but somehow never imagined what could possibly be inside...

And so I opened it. And it was this:


Or, no, wait. This new camera. Argh. Maybe I didn't need the flash. Let's try this again.

Well, still argh, but you get the picture -- so to speak. The Dirt Man (as Johnny has begun to call him) on DVD! Who needs cartoon chipmunks when you have six hunky feet of puerile poo-jokes at your fingertips whenever you decide to punch them up?

So I did. Punch them up, I mean. And I have been. And I hope it doesn't wind up like working in an ice cream parlor, where eventually even the thought of butter brickle makes you want to puke. Because if having him around whenever I want is going to ruin him for me, well then, frankly, I would rather starve. But for now, yummy!

Really, though, the point of this whole post, and the reason for the title* -- aside from the fact that I missed my movie, waah -- is that I sent these two pictures to My Picture-Takey Friend, and she says it's not me, it's the camera. So I'm returning it. Today.

She recommended another one, but it costs $130 and I just was not prepared to spend that much on a stupid camera that I don't even want. I probably will, though. Because the cheapy-ass crap is not exactly working out for me, in case you haven't noticed. I'll wait till after Christmas and see if it goes on sale -- so in the meantime, just to warn you, I'll be footloose and picture-free -- but then I'll probably just order the damn thing and figure out where the money will come from later.

Because you -- you people -- you deserve high-resolution documentation of my mold and mess and broken shit.

And also poo.


*Hey, we haven't done a POEM CONTEST in a while: Does anybody know where the title comes from? Tell me, and I'll write a dirty little ditty for ya'...