Iron Mom

A rare afternoon date was my Mother's Day gift.

In the pre-parenting life formerly known as "freedom to watch movies all weekend if one wished", SB and I would hit the theatres all the time. Now it is a rare event so we always take advantage.

This weekend's selection was a hit: Iron Man (thank gawd, because it sucks to catch a miss). It was really gooooooood, everything I expected and it was totally action packed. It stayed true to comic book style, which is how movies like this should be. Well done Mr. Favreau.

So long of short, we enjoyed what should have been an early matinee but it started 30 minute late. Holy crap, the ads kept running with the lights on in the theatre and OMG they made us watch this really bad, very loud music video over and over and over a la Clockwork Orange. Ironically the music video was called Mercy - kinda funny considering they didn't show us any. It was insane and no one knew what was going on.

Since I didn't feel like having my blood pressure tested by some disinterested teenage employee, I sat tight, refusing to let the torture get to me. Not on Mother's Day, no freakin' way was some thing like poor customer service going to get to me on my royal-highness, signed, stamped, and supported by Hallmark day. Thankfully the theatre redeemed itself by handing out free movie gift certificates with an apology for late start time at the end of the movie. Well played "overpriced but under duress since home entertainment is the preferred method of Hollywood ingestion" movie theatre, well played.

Anyhow, despite the poor start and my overwhelming urge to run out to Burger King, drink Perrier, trade my Mac for a Dell, and do it all while driving a Ford got under my "hate the sell outs but how else are they going to pay for all the explosions" skin - the movie never stopped pumping.

How can I hate a film that includes Suicidal Tendancies in the score along side Black Sabbath? Exactly. And Robert Downey Jr. will always have a special place in my heart. So overall? Mmmmmmmm yummy.

But I reserve judgement on Gwyneth Paltrow's role - I can't decide if she did her Pepper Pots to perfection or she just annoys the crap outta of me with her breathless girly character. When at one point she tiptoed through broken glass and actually made squeaky noises, I can't say I didn't want to drill her one upside the head. Okay, so I just rolled my eyes. She didn't play the role as a ditz because Pepper Pots isn't an idiot but something about it didn't work for me. And I also need to decide if she played the role in true comic book fashion - grrrrrr I have a dilemma. Oh if only each of life dilemmas were this easy to dissect.

Speaking of dilemmas, I still can't blog straight but that's alright, I will wallow in my nonsensical attempts at humour and shake things up here at Casa Bump.

Chuck is on vacation this week. But Chuck wouldn't go on vacation and not assign anyone his Monday Morning slot.

He asked Mr. T to fill in but Mr. T did not agree with the inspirational assignment - he thought a establishing your style assignment was a better idea.

He believes that Mr. T just standing in front of you is inspiration enough. Well despite the truth behind that statement, Mr. T would like to instruct you on stylin' and making a statement.



You will love Marta, she IS a real hotdog. And back off - Manny is all mine ladies.

Sad thing, I remember these days like they were yesterday. But on the bright side, even back then I would have totally recognized this for all it's bad 80's glory that it represents.

Remember kids, everybody got to wear clothes - if not you'll be arrested. Now if those aren't words to live by on a Monday morning, I don't know what words you need to hear. Nice buns perhaps?

Oh and in case you haven't noticed the kerfuffle swirling around the 'sphere surrounding a certain site I work with that was named after a piece of clothing I so rarily wear (bloggess said it so much better than me so read her post for the details on the mean women out who obviously didn't get much love during high school or something because what else would make you so freakin' mean and lawsuit-happy?) - well the new name for said site has officially been changed.

Today I am no longer a girl who wears a skirt, I am a girl who knows how to kirtsy:

Those kool kids at kirtsy will make a lady out of me, I just know it.