Hello, Dear Readers!
Yesterday my daughter had to get stitches in her leg because some kid at Chinese camp had broken glass in her backpack. It wasn’t a malicious incident, but this just goes to remind everyone that even though children can do amazing feats like speak Chinese, solve tough math problems, and wow us with their expert navigation of television remote controls, sometimes they still think like little kids.
One good thing is that the doctor and nurses never even questioned that it might have been a safety issue on my part—you know, how they make sure they don’t need to call child protective services. When a Caucasian kid’s story starts out with, “Well, I was at Chinese camp…”, it’s so random that it’s totally believable.
After our tough day—she had stitches and I missed my afternoon mug of tea—we decided to indulge in cookies and watch the new Dolly Parton & Queen Latifah movie in bed last night. The flick is called Joyful Noise, and it’s a love story, choir competition, feud between Dolly and Latifah, and a touching tale of redemption all wrapped up in one. Like one of those gross appetizers of tortillas rolled up with cream cheese and lunch meat.
Joyful Noise is the kind of movie where Dolly’s choir robe was really fitted up around her boobs to make her look like a Barbie doll, but everybody else had on normal, baggy robes. I feel like the director probably wanted Dolly to wear a standard robe, but Dolly had it in her contract that she could wear an hourglass robe and be the only blonde in the entire movie.
The plot is exactly what you’d expect: Latifah is an unsung hero, young lovebirds get together, a teen’s Asperger’s syndrome is pretty much cured, and Dolly breaks out a shotgun. The writers added surprise by having unlikely characters do the splits when you least anticipate it. Confession of love…splits!…face that says character hasn’t spread her legs that far in years.
That’s the kind of movie you’re missing out on. I might have even oversold it a bit.
Now that you’re caught up on the latest in romantic comedy horrors, let’s explore a product that you should be aware of, just in case.
If you like to partake in alcoholic beverages AND you like to go places where that’s frowned upon (funerals) or where alcohol is expensive (anywhere that requires admission fees), my friend V has found a solution for you. It’s called the Wine Rack. You just fill up the plastic lining of this handy sports bra with alcohol! If you’re a woman you’ll look like Dolly, and if you’re a man you’ll look like John Travolta with his fleshy man-boobs. Either way, you’ll never be questioned by authorities.
However, I have to warn you of the dangers of sneaking alcohol into places. My friends and I once filled water bottles with vodka and smuggled them into an outdoor concert. It seemed like a good idea, but it lead us down the path of bad decisions.
If you’re afraid that you’ll get caught wearing the Wine Rack or you need extra storage space for your alcohol, I have another convenient solution for you of Ikea-level genius. You can turn yourself into a Human Decanter, like the drug addict I heard about from a doctor friend. The Human Decanter hires himself out for entertainment. What’s his party trick, you ask? He uses a catheter—usually used in hospitals to drain urine out of people—except in reverse. He fills his bladder up with wine. Sounds incredibly painful, right? He’s on lots of drugs.
Once his bladder is full of wine, HE WILL PEE IT INTO A GLASS FOR YOU.
You should ponder that for a moment.
Whichever method you use to sneak in wine, it’s sure to taste extra classy.
You know, that sounded snotty, but I don’t want to pretend I’m above drinking body-temperature wine. If someone ever forces me to see Joyful Noise again and contraband wine is my only option, I’ll drink it no matter what private parts it drains out of.
What is it about the Steve Miller Band and bad party decisions? Back in 1987, I tossed back a pint of bourbon, chasing down a dozen No-Doz tablets, and then smoked an entire eighth of good pot with a couple of friends. By the time Steve Miller started playing his hits, my HAIR was wasted.
You’re an expensive date, sir!!!
Except for the part about your daughter’s misfortune (and I truly hope she’s feeling better – stitches are the WORST!), I laughed all the way through this post. I’d love to have a conversation with you sometime about Harlequin “novels” and how they forever ruined romance for me. We used our cowboy boots to sneak liquor in and I’m with you – I don’t care what temp or where it was stored, I’d drink darn near anything if forced to sit through a Dolly Parton movie.
Thanks for stopping by! You almost need to open a bottle and watch Joyful Noise just to see Dolly’s fitted choir robe. Funniest part of the whole movie. Oh, I forgot about the splits. Now I want to see it again.
BOOTS–good idea! I’m sure you can market a “wine sock” on Amazon.
“Well, I was at Chinese camp” is going to be how I start every excuse from now on.
No kidding! It works. Unless you’re involved in a serious crime, and then I wouldn’t recommend it. That’s how people on CSI always get caught.