A Staycation for Sisters...

I was going to blog about my memories of 9.11.01 today, but instead, I thought a better way to honor the heroes would be to blog instead about the joys in my life today, joys that I wouldn't have without those who have been and are willing to sacrifice themselves for my freedom and safety.  And so, I give you "A Staycation for Sisters"...

With the good fortune of a long weekend, a discounted hotel, and two sisters in the vicinity, I packed up and headed to Orlando.  Here's how we knew we were set: we had an iPod of great music, and 2 bags of different kinds of Goldfish each, plus milk and Oreos.  Here's how we knew we were getting old: we also had milk because one of us had acid reflux.

 

Let me introduce you to the main characters of this adventure.  It's been said that simply looking at our wardrobes will show you our personalities.  You decide:

This is Bestie (classic):

                                 This is Bestie Jr. (trendy)  Bestie Jr., don't be mad... it's just because you're younger. :):

                        
                                                                                                                                          This is me (girly):

Our first dinner on our budget staycation was at Chipotle.  We cackled in the car as our conversations ranged from the ridiculous to the insane.  Let me give you some snippets:

"It drives me nuts when people sing 'Lord of heavend and earth' instead of 'Lord of heaven and earth.'  Heaven doesn't have a 'd' sound.  It is so annoying.  Are they just anticipating enunciating the 'and,' so they accidentally tack on a 'd' to the end of heaven?"

"You definitely are a maneater.  You have more boy experience than any of us.  Remember how many little dates you went on in college?  And how you dated Josh just but didn't like him at all?"
"I tried to make myself like him.  Is it considered a date if he pays?"
"Well then, I dated the whole brother floor.  I don't think I paid for a single Starbucks drink my entire first semester!"
"I only went on one date."

Those are just a couple fit for print.  There were also wookie noises, but no one knows why.  So we made our way to Chipotle, where we proceeded to cackle like three middle-aged women who had been let loose from the daily confines of their households.  There were some skater kids who probably thought we were 35, so I guess that fits.  Also, there was a man who looked like Keanu Reeves, but balding.  Next on our adventure was Redbox, for a chick flick.  At this point it was raining quite hard, and we were driving through a less-than-savory portion of Orlando.  We ended up at a 7-11 with a weird overhang and some creepy guys with bulletproof vests and motorcycles.

Our hotel room was as cold as a meat locker, or maybe colder.  Which would have been fine, if I hadn't stepped in water in the bathroom, making my socks wet and therefore having to go sockless in a meat locker.  Also, there was what may or may not have been a booger on the nightstand in an otherwise very clean room.  I "killed" it, as I am always the designated bug killer/apparently now booger grabber and throw away-er.  In the two nights we stayed there, that room held its share of laughter.  If we weren't laughing at the two movies we rented, we were laughing at each other.  If we weren't laughing at each other, we were laughing at the grotesque faces we were making for the camera.  And if we weren't laughing at that, we were laughing at the ridiculous videos we were making.

We laughed so loudly, in fact, that not only did my voice start to go hoarse, but the neighbors actually pounded on the wall for us to stop.  I felt guilty, like I used to feel when I was an RA at Moody and would  break quiet hours with my sisters, and a girl would poke her sleepy head out of her room and inform me that it was after quiet hours.  So I sheepishly stopped cackling and as we turned out the light, Bestie must have been thinking the same thing, because she mumbled something to me about "breaking quiet hours."

In the light of day, we found ourselves poolside, each armed with our own copy of "Glamour."  That way, we could point out who looked freakish, or what color nail polish we wanted, or what item of clothing for which we'd be on the prowl.  And then we followed our fancies to the mall, where the three of us, all broke, still managed to find amazing deals that we simply couldn't pass up.  The next day became an outlet mall excursion where we spent far too much time rifling through underwear that was only $2.50 and ghetto brand-name t-shirts.  Don't ask.

While the three of us have remained quite close despite all the changes of the last year or so, I was reminded of how life is different these days when this happened:

 
I guess that's what happens when you have a husband. :)

But a good thing about being the single one was I got a "heavenly bed" all to myself because hey, they're used to sharing.  Until the second night, when Bestie uber-creeped-out Bestie Jr. and therefore Bestie Jr. bounded into my bed for the night.

Our second meal-on-the-cheap was a "splurge" at the Olive Garden.  We were hyped about this because Bestie Jr. is married to a chef who cries inside at the thought of the the Olive Garden.  We fairly leaped with joy at the thought of unlimited soup, salad, and breadsticks with a never-ending pasta bowl.  Who wouldn't leap with joy at that thought?!  But see, the longer we sat there, the crazier the pictures became, and the harder we laughed.

You never can tell what will happen when you buy nerd glasses, either.

So the retreat ended, and I'm back in my apartment alone, typing away on the computer as usual.    But it's okay.  Bestie and her husband are two buildings away.  And Bestie Jr. and her husband are just across the pond.  And even though we're back to real life, I am refreshed and reminded of how much I love my sisters.  As I told them in the parking lot of the mall,

"Guys, I never get tired of spending time with you."

And it's true.  They are two very, very big joys in my life.  Here's to sisters!

There's One in Every Group...

"Seinfeld" relates to all of life, and I don't care what you say to refute that.  Every true fan knows what it's like to make a hilarious, situationally appropriate "Seinfeld" reference and then hear only crickets chirping when the crowd doesn't know what you're talking about.  I hope this isn't one of those times.  One of my favorite quotes comes from George.  He says, "Every group has someone they all make fun of.  Like us with Elaine."  I always thought that was funny... until I realized how true that statement is.  And the fact that I am Elaine.

I think it hit me when we were all at the Applebee's a couple Saturday nights ago.  The Silly Six plus one (my cousin) were enjoying the half price greasy appetizers and we were laughing (as usual).  Then the conversation took a turn for the weird (as usual), and I became the running brunt of the joke (as usual).  I'm not going to lie-- it was still hilarious, but it hit me suddenly that I am the one in the group that everyone makes fun of most often!  I rewound my memories to see if I was right. 

Scene one: playing "Things" with the group.  Recurring "thing"?  Redheads.

Scene two: playing "Things" with the group.  Recurring "thing"?  Amanda, drunk (To keep my reputation unblemished, I would like to point out that I have never been drunk).

Scene three: lunch at the Cheesecake Factory.  Everyone laughs at the fact that Amanda's heart is "the Berlin Wall."

Then I realized there were too many scenes to count.  So I tried to play the guilt card.


"You know, it's just because I'm single.  I'll bet when I'm married you all won't make fun of me all the time."
"No, then I'm pretty sure we'll just have a lot more ammunition!"  Thanks, Bestie's Husband.


I made a face (which doesn't help them not make fun of me, by the way).  I was told there was "just something" about me that made it easy to make fun of me.  Great...?  After discovering my place in the Silly Six, I thought about my other groups of friends.  Did I hold that position in other groups, too?!  I did.  I didn't know whether to be ashamed or amused.


I decided I'd go for amused.  If somebody has to be "someone they all make fun of," I don't mind if it's me.  It's still pretty funny, even if I have to defend myself against ridiculous allegations.  And I love making people laugh, so if it's at my expense... that's okay.  Besides, it's not always me they make fun of.  We're kind of a ruthless group and go for the comedic jugular every now and then.  But meanwhile, I guess I'll still be the one "they all make fun of."  I won't complain too much, because at least there's a "they" to hang out with.  And "they" make me laugh.

Who is it in your group that you all make fun of?  If you don't know... it's probably you.

Inglorious...

Last weekend I saw what I thought would be a typical QT movie, meaning of course, that it would be brimming with undue and over-done violence, would be humorously irreverent, expertly filmed, completely stylized... and totally enjoyable. Inglorious Basterds was exactly that, and I loved every minute of it.
What I didn't expect was the sociological/philosophical questions it would bring to mind.

*** spoiler alert ***

I sat there, laughing (though shielding my eyes from the gore) with the rest of the theater when the members of Brad Pitt's inglorious squad beat a German soldier to death. I laughed (though shielding my eyes from the gore) when they carved a swastika into their foreheads so they could never forget the atrocities they'd committed while wearing the Nazi uniform. I was pleased to see that they weren't going to pull a Valkyrie, but that Hitler was indeed going to die, and of course-- I laughed when they riddled him with bullets. I felt a sense of satisfaction when a theater full of Nazis and Nazi sympathizers burned.

But then it hit me... how sick is this? How sick are we that we, as a collective group of individuals in a theater, are actually happy and pleased to see the torture and deaths of a group of people (however heinous their own actions had been). Were we really so very different from the Nazis in the movie who laughed as their hero sniper killed hundreds of ally soldiers? We sneered from our theater seats as Hitler laughed at the allies dying... and then we laughed as the movie depicted their deaths.
I don't even know if QT intended this little commentary, because I think with a film like that, he enjoyed seeing the Nazis "get theirs" as much as the rest of us in the theater. Even so, it made me think... and maybe you'll think about it to...