On Friday, the husband and the baby and I headed to the gigantic multiplex to see the new Indiana Jones movie. We squeezed our way through horrendous traffic and past the mobs of Sex and the City fans to the back corner of the theater, where movie-goers who see the blockbusters a week after they premiere are sequestered.
At least 6 of the main theaters were dedicated to Sex and the City. I loved that show the same way that I like Fiery Habanero Doritos and Kraft Mac n Cheese and candy and alcohol. They’re both bad for me, make me fat and/or drunk and/or orange-stained, but I am not ashamed of our relationship. And I fully intend to see the movie at some point.
However, the premiere activities surrounding the movie can only be described as a tea party with stilettos. Women were all dressed up and giddily discussing the movie and the show while standing in line and I swear I half expected them to bust out their baby dolls.
Frankly, I find this behavior strange. I had to wonder: is Sex and the City the new Star Wars?
Anyway, we watched Indiana Jones and were enjoying it enough (nutshell review: it’s okay, though not awesome). The husband left the theater about 20 minutes from the end to take a phone call, which was really strange.
He returned after the movie was over and informed me that his father had a heart attack.
After racing home and and a flurry of phone calls, we found out that he had been driving his truck through Ohio and suffering chest pains. He finally pulled into a terminal and went to the hospital. He’s going to be okay, but good lord was that scary.
The husband, the sister-in-law, and I have been on the cases of all of our parents to improve their lifestyles. The combined smoking habits of my mother and father and my in-laws totals to something like 170 years and they’re a mostly sedentary bunch. Until now they’ve mostly waved away our demands that they quit smoking and exercise and eat better. I don’t know when they thought that crap would catch up with them, but now they know.
The husband is currently on his way to Ohio to pick up his dad and bring him home to recuperate. First day of the rest of his life and all of that.
Sigh. We may be adults, but we still need our parents. Hopefully, they’ll really realize that now.
To lighten the weekend, we went to the graduation party for the sister-in-law’s friend, Stacey, yesterday. The husband asked Stacey what nationality her family was since everyone was pretty sedate and quiet. “I’m only ever at Irish or Italian family functions. I guess I never noticed how loud we are.”
But the quiet mood allowed us to focus on the unexpected entertainment. Stacey’s sister’s little poodle-ish dog was desperately trying to hump Stacey’s huge chocolate Labrador, despite the fact that both dogs are boys and besides that the chocolate Lab was not interested. I have to give the poodle credit, since he approached from every angle, even humping the dog’s head at one point. However, I am now a big advocate of neutering pets because after the…things that I saw…well, let’s just say that I’m really glad that I didn’t have a hot dog to eat. I might have barfed.