So yeah, it was Sunday again. Just like every week, only this upcoming week is Spring Break for the kids. This is good news, in that I don't have to get up early or supervise the homework, or (thank any and all deities involved) have to line up in the retarded insanity that is Car Poop. The down side is the ever enlarging mini manic monkeys are home all week. Half of the living room is already under siege and littered with Imaginext, Legos, and Playmobil flotsam as far as the eye can see. I gave them a cleaning ultimatum a half an hour ago, and it still is going pretty slowly, the carnage removal. This is pretty much what my week is going to look like, but at least I can stay up late and sleep in - they are good boys when it comes to that, though its due to many early morning awakenings, where the monster formerly known as Mom came out swinging and roaring. Now that they're bigger, I have to remember to wear underwear when I rampage, because Angry Mother Bush is far more scarring at 8 or 10 than it was at 3 or 4.
Are you reeling from that last sentence? Ms. Q just spit her coffee, I feel sure. So you're telling me that none of you ever walked around in the buff when your kids were little? Did you don your little pilgrim hat too? Yeah, thats what I thought.
Where the hell was I? Spring Break, that's right.
So this past Sunday, knowing the fate of my week ahead, Bea and I went out for a day of Sunday Denial. The hub-man was only too happy to finance the trip, because it got us out of the house, so he could watch the NCAA playoffs and drink beer without any interruptions. We went to see "The Other Boleyn Girl" and then went out for sushi afterwards, both things that he would rather chew his leg off than do.
I knew the film was going to be WAY off in its historical accuracy, just based on the trash novel by the same name, but I wanted to see Natalie Portman play Anne Boleyn, and I just can't resist a film about Tudor England, even if they are going to fuck it up. And boy, howdy, did they screw it up!
I will be giving my review of this film later this week, along with the far more sordid, and juicy true story of Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII, that for reasons unknown to me, they chose to ignore completely when they made this film.
But for now, I must leave you, dear blogosphere, and go in search of lunch-like comestibles to appease the restless and unruly native pygmies that have overrun my domicile.