Tag Archives: movies

How I ended up singing “Bohemian Rhapsody” for 135 hours

IMG_0938The release of the movie Bohemian Rhapsody got me thinking.  Mostly, it got me thinking that, even though I love Queen with the devotion of the twelve year old girl I was when I discovered them, I’m really sick of seeing that biopic trailer every time I try to watch a video on YouTube.  I was sitting through the trailer again the other day while waiting to watch a video of some random girl doing the dance from “Thriller” in full zombie makeup, and I started thinking about an article I’d read that said we spend roughly 2 years of our lives in the shower–or possibly 6 months, depending on (as far as I can tell) if you’re British or not.  I started to wonder how many hours of my life I’ve spent watching the Bohemian Rhapsody trailer.  Then I started to wonder how many hours of my life I’ve spent watching trailers for movies I’ll never see.  Then I started to wonder how many hours of my life I’ve spent singing the song “Bohemian Rhapsody.”  Then I got out the calculator.  After that, things just kind of spiraled and–well, this happened:

Amount of Time in My Life I’ve Spent Doing Things That Aren’t Usually the Subjects of Articles About How Much Time We Spend Doing Things:

1. Singing “Bohemian Rhapsody”:  I kinda gave this one away in the title, but here’s my reasoning:  I sing this song in the shower at least once a week, from start to finish, including all the bits with the words that sound like a hymn from the Church of Satan.  Multiply the song’s 6 minute run time by 52 weeks in the year for (cough cough) years and you get:  8112 minutes/135 hours/5 and a half days.  I think Freddie Mercury would have been proud–you know, as long as he never actually heard me sing.  Oh, Lord.  You don’t think he can hear me in heaven, do you?  I’m pretty loud.

2.  Watching movies I secretly think are stupid because my friends have crushes on the actors:  1116 minutes/18 and a half hours.  For this total, I added up the running times of the third Jurassic Park movie, two Jennifer Aniston movies, Dumb and Dumberer (the sequel; I liked the first one), Deuce Bigalow:  Male Gigolo, and all five Twilight movies.  I’m not including movies like She’s All That, which I thought was going to be stupid but I ended up really liking, or Batman and Robin (the one with George Clooney), which my friends and I were all excited to see but agreed afterward sucked pretty hard.  I’m also not including Titanic because I was always very open about how stupid I thought it was.

3.  Putting off doing things I don’t really mind doing:  I’m not really sure about the exact figures for this one, but I’m guessing the number’s pretty high.  I’m going to peg it at about five times the amount of time it would have taken to just get off my butt and do it.  Sample activities I’ve spent about five times as long putting off as it would have taken to just do include:  emptying the trash, writing thank-you notes, calling my mother back, getting a breast exam, and meeting my boyfriend’s parents.  I should probably leave that last one out of any calculations I do, though, because it’ll screw up the curve.

4. Yelling at my pets:  This one truly shocked me.  Over the course of my cats’ lives, I’ve spent about 78,625 minutes/1310 hours/55 days yelling at them.  I feel like a really bad kitty mommy.  I estimated that I spend about five minutes per day per cat shouting “No!”, calling them bad cats, and occasionally chasing them around the house screaming “Why are you so evil??”  I didn’t think five minutes was excessive, but with two senior kitties plus their big sister (she died a few years ago), five minutes per cat per day really adds up.  I feel bad.  Not bad enough to stop yelling at them, but still pretty bad.

5.  Stalking boys I had crushes on:  I was trying to figure out a way to calculate this one, and I eventually settled on this:  By the time I was done stalking a guy, I had learned as much or more about him as I learned in an entire college course–one I cared about, anyway.  I skipped a lot of the Gen Ed requirement classes (note to my mother:  I’m totally kidding about that.  I attended every class.  I definitely didn’t skip one class so many times that the professor asked my friends if I was sick).  So I made a list of the guys I’ve had crushes on, and if you count each one as a course, I’ve stalked enough guys to complete a college major.  I basically have a degree in Obsessive Infatuation.  Bet my philosophy diploma isn’t looking so bad now, huh, Dad?

6.  Time I spent learning the dance from the “Thriller” music video:  none, because I didn’t do that.  The person in that YouTube video could have been anyone under all the zombie makeup.  The fact that I have the exact red leather jacket that Michael Jackson wore during his groundbreaking musical short film helmed by An American Werewolf in London director John Landis proves nothing except that I have keen fashion sense and spend a lot of time on Ebay.  But if I were the person in the YouTube video, I would just say this:  it’s a lot easier to dance like no one is watching when you’re pretty sure no one can recognize you.  Also, how come today’s zombies don’t dance?  I understand about the problem with body parts falling off, but just stay away from twerking and you’ll be fine.

7.  Walking around in public without realizing I had food/ink/stickers/weird crease marks on my face:  I’d love to tell you, but I can’t make an accurate estimate until my “friends” tell me when they put that “I’m a porn star–ask me how!” sticker on my forehead.  Seriously, guys.  I went out to get the mail like that.  Not cool.

8.  Reading other people’s blogs and sulking because they’re so much better than mine:  just, all the time.  It’s depressing how freaking talented everyone else is. They’re so funny and smart and cool… why is everyone else always so much cooler than I am?? I’m smart!!  I’m funny!! I’m talented–I learned the dance from “Thriller” in just three days–wait…crap.

I give up.  I’ll never be cool.  I’ll always be the crazy lady who yells at her cats and dances in a zombie costume on Halloween (I put the “trick” in “trick or treat”) (yeah, no, definitely not funny.  Sorry about that).  But if my only legacy is that I spent over 100 hours of my life singing “Bohemian Rhapsody,” I can live with that.  There are worse ways to spend your time.

Addendum:  Apparently the Bohemian Rhapsody movie sucks.  Weirdly, I still want to see it.  Damn you, YouTube!

[The image used in this blog is in the public domain at, as almost always, pixabay.com]

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Does going to a Richard Marx concert hurt my street cred?

Dirty Dancing (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A while ago, I posted about my friend who mysteriously got engaged.  Well, during my hiatus, she got married, and I was there for her bachelorette party the night before.  Now, for those of you who are under thirty, you probably have quite a different picture in your heads when I say “bachelorette party”.  What actually happened was that we rented a hotel room and some eighties movies, drank beer, and gossiped while watching Dirty Dancing.  We’re wild women and cannot be tamed.

At the time, I had been on a Richard Marx kick for about a week.  I don’t remember what started it, but I was seriously rediscovering his work leading up to the party.  This isn’t a tangent, and here’s why:

Little Blind Girl:  (squints at screen) I haven’t seen this movie in forever.  Come to think of it, I think the last time I watched it, I could actually see the screen.

Mysteriously Engaged Friend:  D*mn, I didn’t realize this movie was that old!

LBG:  (hits Mysteriously Engaged Friend with pillow)

Non-engaged Friend 1:  Poor Patrick Swayze.  He looks so young.

Non-engaged Friend 2:  Dude could really dance.  Look at him!  And the hot blonde chick who plays the dance instructor, too.  Say what you want, the people in this movie had serious skills.

LBG:  If you say anything along the lines of “Not like in the dance movies the kids watch these days”, the next pillow is coming at you.

MEF:  You know, I think the blonde chick got married to Richard Marx.

LBG:  Seriously?  I’ve been listening to his music for, like, a week solid.  That’s so weird!

NEF 1:  That you’ve been listening to Richard Marx?  Yeah, that is weird!

LBG:  (hits NEF 1 with pillow)

NEF 2:  I wonder if they’re still married.

NEF 1:  Does anyone have internet access?  We could look it up online.

MEF:  (guiltily) I’m already online.

LBG:  Really?  Now?  What site are you on?

MEF:  Second Life.

(pause)

NEF 2:  You’re playing a character in a fictional online world during your bachelorette party the night before you get married?

MEF:  Yes.

NEF 1:  LBG, you’re officially off the hook as lamest person here.

LBG:  I knew we should have gone with strippers.

Richard Marx (album)

Richard Marx (album) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

And that’s how the eighties kids roll.  FYI, we did look up the hot blonde chick who played the dance instructor, and she is still married to Richard Marx and they’ve stayed together for approximately ever, which I think was a good omen right before a wedding.  Ever since then, I’ve had a soft spot in my heart for Richard Marx, and I’m going to see him in concert in December with Non-engaged Friend 1.  I’m pretty sure this is going to destroy any street cred I’ve gathered with my professed love for Nirvana and John Lennon, but I don’t care.  His music makes me smile.  Plus, I had my first slow dance to one of his songs.  When it was first released.  I played it over and over until the cassette tape broke.  The first reader who makes a snarky comment about any of this gets an online pillow attack!

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My doctor wishes I wouldn’t post this

La Maldicion de la Bestia

La Maldicion de la Bestia (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

During movie night a while ago, a new friend was invited to join our sacred circle.  Movie night for us involves finding the most cliched, predictable movies available and watching them while yelling insults, throwing things at the screen, drinking boxed wine, and eating horrifically unhealthy snacks.  We don’t invite just anyone to join us while we do this.  We make sure they have really good aim first.  Then we make them buy the wine.

So we’re getting ready for movie night.  We picked a werewolf movie, one of those where the werewolf is the love interest and there’s some sort of vague but agonizing destiny the lovers must overcome.  We give bonus points to the movies if they contain gratuitous violence, so we had high hopes for this one.  We like to take bets on how the movie is going to end before it even starts; winner picks the next movie.  But the really important part about movie night is the snacks.

We’d been having movie night pretty regularly for a while, so we were operating at pro level.  New Girl sat on the couch while the rest of us got the snacks ready.  The key to enjoying movie night properly is to start out with decent wine.  Then, when the spices have deadened your taste buds and the alcohol starts making its way into your system, switch to boxed wine.  At that point, you won’t be able to tell the difference, and it’s much cheaper.  Obviously, though, you have to choose spicy snacks to make this work properly.  So my friends and I are taking out our supplies and putting together our snacks, all talking with each other and not really paying attention because we’ve done this so often.  It went a little something like this:

Little Blind Girl:  (Pulls out Nacho Cheesier Doritos bags) I predict that Werewolf Girl will have some sort of clan-approved Werewolf Mate that she’ll have to kill in order to be with Human Hottie.

Friend 1:  (Heats up Texas Chili, Extra Hot, adding picante sauce) No, Werewolf Girl will be trying to deny her nature to be with Sanctimonious Loverboy, then she’ll go all wolfy and embrace her true destiny and kill the love interest.

Friend 2:  (Adds Taco Seasoning to Texas Chili, Extra Hot; stirs) Yeah, and then she’ll be all consumed with remorse and fight her Wolf King brother, who’s been egging her on.  She kills him and lopes off into the distance to be alone with her broken heart.

Friend 3:  (Heats up storebought Nacho Dip, stirs in chunks of cheddar) No, she’ll bite Human Hottie and turn him into a werewolf.  Then he goes all feral and kills her best friend, and then she has to kill him.  Then she lopes off into the distance to be alone with her broken heart.

LBG:  (adds chili-taco mix to Doritos bags, shakes enthusiastically, pours into large bowl) No, you’ve got to have the love triangle.  Werewolf Mate tries to kill Human Hottie to try to get with Wolf Girl, then she kills Werewolf Mate in front of Human Hottie, who gets all traumatized and can’t look at her.  Then she lopes off into the distance to be alone with her broken heart.

Friend 1:  (pours cheese mixture over Chili Taco Doritos mix in bowl) Then Human Hottie finds her and convinces her that she can overcome her wolfy instincts and they can be together, and then they have a really awkwardly posed kiss and live happily ever after.

Friend 2:  (dumps 2 tubs of sour cream over Cheese Chili Taco Dorito mix)  You’re such a hopeless romantic!  No.  They have a really awkwardly posed kiss and then, as the screen fades to black, you hear a bunch of wolves starting to howl all around them.

Friend 3: (empties enormous tub of extra-spicy salsa over hot mess in bowl) No, no, no!  After Wolf Girl lopes off into the distance to be alone with her broken heart, Human Hottie tries to follow her, despite being grievously wounded from his fight with Werewolf Mate.  Just as he catches a glimpse of her and she looks at him, the moon comes out from behind the clouds and they realize they’re surrounded by the rest of the wolf clan.  Cut to credits.

Friend 4:  (scatters whole hot peppers throughout bowl, mixes up the hot mess, and reaches for the freaky hot green sauce)  You know, maybe we should ask New Girl if she wants freaky hot green sauce on her Chili Taco Dorito Nachos.  It might not be everyone’s cup of tea.

(We all look over at New Girl, who is staring in bewildered, uncomprehending horror at the Gigantic Bowl of Hot Mess on the kitchen table)

New Girl:  Um, no, that’s okay, I think I’m just going to eat some fruit.

(Bewildered, uncomprehending horror from group of friends, which we cleverly cover with a change of topic)

LBG:  So, New Girl, how do you think the movie will end?

New Girl:  I think Wolf Girl and Human Hottie will have a movie night, eat Chili Taco Dorito Nachos, and immediately have fatal heart attacks.

(Pause)

LBG:  I don’t remember seeing that in any of the promos.

Friend 1:  Isn’t there a story where the heroine chokes on an apple?

Friend 2:  That’s Snow White.  No werewolves.

Friend 1:  My point still stands.

Friend 3:  What point would that be?

Friend 1:  Never trust fruit.  That stuff will kill you.

Turns out, movie night isn’t for everyone.  But, you know, that just means more Chili Taco Dorito Nachos for the rest of us.  I don’t remember how the movie ended or who won that particular round, which is usually the sign of a successful movie night.  New Girl got over her horror and tried the nachos.  I think I even had a slice of apple.  But you don’t want to go overboard with that kind of thing.  Aren’t apples what got us kicked out of the Garden of Eden in the first place?

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Sonnet to Johnny Depp

Español: Johnny-depp

Image via Wikipedia

Shall I compare thee to Gerard Butler?
Thou art more yummy and more versatile;
Harsh critics pan Gerard’s roles more and more,
And high profits elude him still a while.

Sometimes too weird the star of Brad Pitt shines,
And steady has his skin’s complexion dimmed,
And sexiness does all too soon decline,
Especially when beards remain untrimmed.

But thy eternal fresh face does not fade,
Which frankly freaks me out a little bit,
No wrinkles do thy perfect face invade,
nor senility cloud thy clever wit.

So long as movies play for eyes to see,
So long my ticket stubs belong to thee.

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