Dating Myself

7 Oct

No, not like “I’m dating myself,” as in “I’m so old I remember when gas cost less than a dollar” or the fact that I was born in a decade famous for disco and awesome shag carpeting.

Friday night, I took myself out for drinks and a movie.  And I have to tell ya… I’m a pretty fun date.   This is the first time I have been to a flick in a theater since Mr. Smith was home on leave in May.  And only the second time I have been out past bedtime since… well, since I moved here.  If you read my previous blog, you’re probably wondering what the hell is going on.  Suffice it to say that things have calmed down and someone is, for the time being, acting… dare I say?… normal.  To include following through on a prior agreement to watch Bug while I have an evening to myself.

I learned about the secret pleasure of solo theater experiences (and by such, I do not mean the PeeWee Herman “secret pleasure of solo theater experiences”) when I first moved to Virginia.  It’s not for everyone.  I love it.  You get to pick whatever random or deliberately selected flick you want.  If the movie sucks, it’s your own damn fault, not your date’s for picking a French art film with subtitles.  You can get as much or as little butter as you want on your popcorn.  ODells_supur_Kist Since I rarely see movies, I prefer my popcorn floating on a sea of faux jeune, artery-clogging yumminess.  No more trying to walk more slowly than your date so you don’t have to be the first one in to the theater and, subsequently, stuck selecting the seats.  Too close?  Too far back?  Doesn’t matter.  I sit where I want.

I left the house a little before the show, with the intention of swinging by Wally world for some goodies to sneak in by way of my ginormous purse.  But I wasn’t really feeling the sugar, so I opted to pop in to a restaurant/bar near the theater for a little pre-movie adult beverage.  ggandc Grey Goose & cranberry.  Liquid relaxation.  While there, I ran in to my favorite LCC professor — Huffaker, from my spring semester Sociology class.  Quirky guy, but I always loved his class and we seem to be on the same page about a lot of things… like being the only two self-admitted liberals in a 50-mile radius.  Plus, being one of his favorite students didn’t hurt matters.  Two drinks and some entertaining chatter later, I realized I was five minutes late (come on now, are you really surprised?) for my 9:40 movie! I paid my tab and walked to the theater, two blocks from the bar.

Here’s a small-town movie theater for you: on a Saturday night, there were four cars in the parking lot.  burn-after-reading-posterWhen I walked in the lobby, I asked if I could still get in to see “Burn After Reading.”   The cute little high school popcorn jockey assured me I could, adding, “You’ll be the only one in there, so we’ll start it whenever you’re ready.”  So, with over-buttered popcorn and Diet Coke in hand, I walk in to a totally empty theater, almost overwhelmed with seating options.  Though I quickly decided it would have to be the last row or I’d spend the entire movie checking over my shoulder.  A couple minutes after I sat down, someone peeked in to see if I was in there and then started the movie up.  It was awesome!  I felt like it was some exclusive screening just for moi.  Feet kicked up on the seat in front of me, texting with my sister through the previews — and I didn’t even turn my phone down.  It was like a little piece of heaven.

The movie was typical Coen Brothers fare… something you need to see twice to fully appreciate.  Not quite as good as “O Brother” or “The Big Lebowski” but it had its moments.  And really, you can only go so wrong with a movie that contains Brad Pitt and George Clooney.  Right?

I rolled out of the theater around 11:30, but the night was too young to head home just yet.  I strolled (for two blocks, in the dark, by myself, with no fear… bonus points for a small town) back to the car and headed to the only place besides the bars that is open that late in Parsons: Wal-Mart.  I had every intention of buying a plant to replace the one in Bug’s room that I have managed to decimate with a total lack of sustenance.  Instead, I ended up walking around making up stories in my head about the random assortment of people shopping & socializing at such an hour.  I left with two bags of ice.

iheartobamaOn my way out of the parking lot, I decided it would not be a night out with  myself unless it involved a little mischief (peeing next to ponds & being attacked by drunk-eating bushes often come to mind).  I saw a McCain-Palin sign on the side of the road across from Wally World, broadcasting its nasty, evil message to the throngs of rednecks who flood the driveway to their mecca of low prices.  So, I stopped the car in the middle of the road.  I got out.  And I took it.   Take THAT you maverick wanna-bes!

It was a good night.  I needed it.  Hell, I deserved it.  But it would have been better making mischief with some of my dear friends.  🙂 Don’t worry… it’ll be soon.  Start notifying the authorities in VA, MD & DC again.

I just remembered a verse from a very annoying kid’s song on one of Bug’s CDs that makes me laugh:

Took myself to the picture show
Sat myself on the very last row
Wrapped my arms around my waist
Got so fresh I slapped my face!

Boom, boom… ain’t it great to be crazy?!

Photos, Top to Bottom: These are a few of my favorite things — movie theater butter, Grey Goose and cranberry juice (but mostly the Grey Goose part), dark comedy with eye candy, and Obama.


2 Responses to “Dating Myself”

  1. Rick Boyer 7 October 2008 at 21:50 #

    I found your site on technorati and read a few of your other posts. Keep up the good work. I just added your RSS feed to my Google News Reader. Looking forward to reading more from you down the road!

  2. quixymama 8 October 2008 at 14:06 #

    Thanks for stopping by, Rick!

    I’ll have to check out technorati. So much has developed in the blogging world in the year since I’ve let this one sit, I’m sure I’m way behind on the latest and greatest in publication and publicizing.

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