Sit Sleeping at the Movies and Other Ridiculous Things  

Nope. I just have to lay down for 5 minutes to read, and I’m out.

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I come from a long line of sit sleepers. What exactly are “sit sleepers”, you ask? Well, imma tell you. When you’re a sit sleeper, there’s a 98% chance that you will fall asleep within ten minutes of sitting down. The likelihood increases when you’re in a comfy armchair, it’s warm and cozy, and you’ve had any alcohol whatsoever. If you’re laying down, forget it-you’ve missed the entire episode of Orange is the New Black. 
I noticed I came from a family of sit sleepers early on with my grandmother. When I was kid, we got to spend the entire summer at the cabin on Coeur d’ Alene Lake in Northern Idaho. The best part of this wasn’t the long summer days filled with swimming, boating, and lounging in the sun. No, the best part was that I got to sleep in my grandma’s bed. It was the best sleep spot in the cabin. The other room was the “boys’ dorm”, filled with bunk beds and farts. It was gross. 
Without fail, the moment my grandma got settled in, covers just right, and with her current book, she was snoring. Except, it wasn’t just snoring. It was something entirely different. See, my beautiful grandmother took her teeth out at night. I still remember those weird, waxy looking chompers floating in a glass on her nightstand. Because her teeth weren’t in when she fell asleep, book opened on her face, it sounded like the subtle flapping of a flag in the wind. 
It was always really entertaining to bet on how many minutes, seconds it’d be until I’d hear the flapping. 
The entire time we had the light on to read, I’d slightly nudge her and she’d sputter awake and continue reading right where she left off. I remember really being concerned that she’d never get through her book. Somehow she did. The marvels of this world are endless. 
The best part of this whole nighttime ritual was that sometimes I’d tell her she was sleeping. Every time, she’d swear up and down that she hadn’t been sleeping. 
I’d say, “Grandma, your book was on your face!”
She’d say, “That’s how I read best.” 
Oh, how I miss the nights I’d nudge my grandmother to say, “Grandma! Your lips are flapping again!” 
Of course, my mother was gifted with sit sleeping. One of my fondest memories is of our nighttime reading. No matter how late, how tired, how stressed, my mom read to us from infacy. As we got older, my brother and I read to her. Each stage had a different level of narcolepsy-like sleeping spells.
Some nights, my mom would be in the middle of a sentence and suddenly, the book and her head would fall, and she would be quietly snoring. 
“Mom!” 
“I’m awake!”
Then, she’d pick up right where she left off. 
When we grew into voracious readers ourselves, we started to read to Mom. That was hilarious, because with no book to hold, and nothing to do other than lay and listen, she was usually snoring before we could even get through a page. 
If we ever have my mom watch Harry Potter, she’d likely say, “Why is this vaguely familiar to me?” 
We’d answer with, “Well, mom, we only read the entire series!” 
A fun little aside about my mom and falling asleep in inopportune situations:
Not only has my mom fallen asleep during reading and during every.single.movie. she’s ever watched, she’s also been known to fall asleep while eating. Yup. You read that right. I wasn’t going to mention that it was likely due to some medication she was taking for her back, but either way, she fell asleep while eating a burrito. Except that’s only what she thought she was eating. She said she was eating her lunch and the damn tortilla would just not cut. She said she hacked and hacked away with her plastic fork, but no luck. Eventually, she decided to just gnaw at it with her teeth. At this point, she woke up/came to and realized she was eating her paper plate. I ask her to tell this story at least a couple times a year, because it’s just too good. 
I always thought falling asleep the second one sits was an old person thing. Well, at 33 years old, I can tell you it’s not!
Guys, I have become a sit sleeper something fierce! 
I’ve seen two movies over break, and during both of them I’ve fallen asleep. 
Like, fell asleep and woke myself up snoring. 
Yesterday, we went to see Rogue One at the luxury theater. I am fully convinced that those damn reclining seats have led to my demise. 
I was all settled in-candy opened and ready to be demolished, napkins draped across my chest like an adult baby, and my contraband drink nestled safely between my ass and the seat. 
I felt I had enough food to keep me awake. If I’m eating, I can’t be sleeping. It’s usually a foolproof plan.
Except, it wasn’t. 
I finished my theater food too soon. 
All of a sudden, I hear the crinkling of wrappers. It sounds like it is coming from inside my head. 
It stops. 
I go back to drooling all over my napkins as I try to keep at least one eye on the screen. 
Suddenly, the sound again. 
What the actual eff? 
I suddenly realize it’s the girl next to me. She’s been crumpling her candy wrappers like inside my ear. 
I’m aghast. I’m shocked. 
How could someone be so rude? 
Then. I realize.
She was crumpling her wrappers next to my head, because I was snoring. 
My head was leaned to her side, my mouth was gaping, and I was snoring in her face.
Who is this person I’ve become?
At this rate, I’ll be ten times as bad as both my grandmother and mother combined. 
HELP!!
This is too good!! 😂😂

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How to Know Your Brain Is Going

I think I can post this, as I can already relate perfectly well.

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Guys, I’m a little worried my brain is going. I think I need to download one of those apps that keeps your brain strong to prevent dementia. 
Today, we were 12 hours (and 10 minutes) early to our movie. 
I still don’t know how it happened. Seriously.
My boyfriend and I love going to the Galaxy luxury theater, because reclining seats. 
Another perk, other than the fact that I can fall asleep in my popcorn, is that you can reserve your seat ahead of time. So, last night, I reserved two seats for the 11:20 showing the next day. 
We got up early, stopped at 7-11 for candy and drinks-i.e. contraband, and when we got to the theater, I got my usual popcorn slicked with that delicious fake butter. 
I realized I didn’t have the confirmation email ready on my phone so we could check in, so we had to step aside and search on my phone for the emailed tickets. 
I couldn’t find the email.
I knew that was no biggie, as all you have to go do is go tell the box office, and they print you your barcode. 
As I sidled up to the counter, juggling my huge popcorn, and trying to hide my bursting purse, that obviously contained outlawed drinks (because who can eat an entire large popcorn with nothing sugary to wash it down with? I’m waiting for the day someone asks me why I’m not buying a drink to go with my mammoth popcorn), I told the young man working that I never got my confirmation email for the movie we were seeing that morning. 
Attendant: What movie are you seeing?
Me: Rogue One, the first showing.
Attendant: Um, you’re a little early. 
Me: Well, I guess, if you mean we’re just in time to see the previews…
Attendant: *blank stare*
Me: So, how do we get the little printout so we can get into the movie? 
Attendant: What time was the showing you purchased? 
Me: 11:20, and now I’m not going to be able to check in on Yelp before the previews start. 
Attendant: Uh. We don’t have a showing at 11:20 this morning. 
Boyfriend: Yes, you do. It’s right up there on the board. 
Attendant: That’s PM. That’s tonight. 
*Two dumbasses, slowly realizing they fucked up, just staring, open mouthed*
Attendant: What’s your name?
Me: Fatty Cake. Two words (just kidding, I gave my real name).
Attendant: Yup, you have tickets for the showing tonight at 11:20.
Me: Well, damn.
After it was all said and done, we got the movie switched to a more reasonable hour for tomorrow. 
After feeling like total tools, we left, grumbling about, “Who goes to a movie at 11:20 at night?!” 
I mean, really. That’s how I messed up when ordering. My geriatric mind couldn’t even fathom that the showing would be at 11:20 PM. 11:20 AM is a far more reasonable time to see a movie. I fall asleep during movies in the middle of the day. If I even attempted to see a movie that late, I’d be kicked out for snoring and drooling all over the leather seats. 
So, in conclusion, we have decided that Galaxy needs to put freaking AM and PM after all of the show times. 
I’m officially now that old person who needs special accommodation so that I don’t get confused by the technology. 
Happy New Year, folks! By the looks of it, this one’ll be a dandy for me! 
When you fuck up your old-person-early-movie time, you go get donuts to eat with your cold movie popcorn.

A Movie Review and a Lesson in Anthropology 

Last night, Wayne and I watched the new Vacation movie. It wasn’t out on our usual cheapskate go-to, Redbox, but it was available on Amazon for $4.99. There was literally nothing else that looked remotely good. We were in the mood for a goofy, funny, lighthearted night, so we thought $5 was worth it. Well, I am seriously considering contacting Amazon for a refund. What a waste of time. 
Except for Chris Hemsworth’s unfortunate underwear overshare, the movie had no redeeming qualities whatsoever (and anyone with half a brain, knows it was a prop, so really, just another disappointment). 
The jokes were so lame, I felt embarrassed for the actors. The whole time I was cringing, covering my eyes, and praying it was just a lame warm up, and the funny parts would make an appearance.
No, that wasn’t funny. Not remotely.
Barf is not funny. Who is the targeted demographic? 10 year-old boys??
The joke is dead. It’s effing dead, already. 
Just give it up. 
Wow, my cuticles look awful. 
Chevy Chase and Beverly D’Angelo’s cameo was completely overshadowed by D’Angelo’s frighteningly plastic face and Chase’s drunk zombie imitation. I know aging is a bitch, but I find that 70-year-olds with plastic surgery look like they are wearing masks. It’s creepy as fuck, and straight from my darkest nightmares. There is nothing wrong with wrinkles, Beverly. Rock your natural self, girl! And Chevy, I…I don’t have words…
I don’t usually like to poke fun at other people, but they weren’t funny, it wasn’t nice to see them, and I’m mad that they didn’t try harder. 
What really bothered me (you’re probably all, “There’s more? Damn girl. Alright, let it all out) was the younger brother and his mouth. 
That little shit needed a swift kick in the ass, a mouthful of perfumey soap, and reform school. Please tell me people don’t find 8-year-olds with mouths that rival the scurviest of sailors funny. Please
For the sake of humanity, please tell me this wasn’t funny to the masses. I’m literally begging over here. 
I have a pretty sour mouth, but I’m 30-fucking-2, and I know when and where it’s appropriate to drop f-bombs. My third graders haven’t even heard me use the word, ‘heck’, and when I find out they curse, it hurts my heart. I have a standard of behavior I demonstrate and expect in my classroom. I’m classy as fuck in my slacks and chambray. 
In all seriousness, we (everyone inhabiting this Earth) are allowing things that shouldn’t be OK in media and entertainment. I know more parents than I want to even comprehend, let their children-far too young-watch that movie. Now, it’s funny to be a little, inappropriate fucker. 
And, the parents in the movie did nothing about their criminal son’s behavior. Nothing. Had that been my kid, I would have washed his mouth out with the nastiest soap I could find, removed every single belonging from his room, and threatened boot camp so fast he wouldn’t have known what hit him. 
Kids, it’s not funny, attractive, or intelligent to use curse words like that kid in the movie. When you drop F bombs every other word in the grocery store, in the park, or at school, you look ignorant. You look stupid. You look like trash. You are our future, you have the potential to be something great. So, do better. Be better.
To the parents who monitor their children’s TV and movie options, and don’t allow disrespectful language, I applaud you. Unfortunately, your children will soon be the minority among a world of people who can’t tell the difference between ‘your’ and ‘you’re’, but know every curse word in 3 different languages. 
Impressive. Unthinkable. Terrifying. 
Next movie I see featuring an 8-year-old with a nastier mouth than me, I’m boycotting. I will seriously go to Michael’s and Home Depot to buy sign-making materials, and you will see my crazy ass boycotting being trash. 
Pray for our future, it’s gonna need it.