Monday, Nov. 29, 2004
The second time something scary happened during The Incredibles and I half jumped out of my seat, simultaneously letting out a little eep of terror, the spousal unit could no longer contain himself.
"This is a cartoon," he whispered drily. "Nobody can really get hurt."
One of the young kids in front of us turned around to see who the spousal unit was talking to. When it registered that it was me, the kid snickered audibly.
Fine. See if I care.
I enjoyed The Incredibles a lot. Blinding pace, endless pop culture jokes, witty writing, splendid animation. What's not to enjoy?
But I was also struck by something. One of the major plot twists in a movie aimed squarely at young children is adultery, or the possibility of it.
At one point the husband went through all the trappings of a mid-life crisis—suddenly pulling his lumpen bod back into shape, the zippy sports car, unexplained "business trips". And then the mother found the classic blonde hair on the lapel.
When the she zipped off to confront him, their daughter matter-of-factly turned to her younger brother and explained to him that their father might have done something that would break the marriage.
Well, obviously there was no adultery because this is Disney 4 Kidz, but the fact that a plot twist such as this would be used in children's entertainment shows how much our perceptions of the permanence of marriage has changed and how little we insulate children from adult life now.
Actually, if I was to say those words to you right now, it would come out more like vewie innerwessing – no, I'm not exploring my Inner Elmer Fudd, I'm freshly back from the dentist and two new fillings.
Did I get cavities on the same side of my mouth? Oh, no, where's the sport in that? Nope, what I have is a completely frozen mouth which makes speech a real challenge and a half. Not to mention chewing. Really, I should have thought about the chewing issue, but I was starved because my appointment was at 11:30 and I didn't get out of the dentist's until 12:30.
Once I escaped, I plunked myself down at a small bistro sort of place and ordered a whole wheat chicken burrito. I'm sure it was delicious, seeing as it was filled with savoury chicken, hot sauce, cheesy goodness, chopped tomatoes and baby spinach. It sure smelled good.
But my entire mouth, my tongue and my lips were frozen. I could not taste my food. I could not feel my lips. Nevermind. I was starved. I gobbled that puppy down in record time, even managing not to chew my tongue to shreds as I did that—no small feat.
I noticed that a woman glaced at me rather oddly as I walked down the street towards my car. I figured that maybe the freezing had pulled my mouth askew so I surreptitiously glanced at my reflection in a shop window.
You know how sometimes people get a bit of salad greenery stuck between their teeth? Well, somehow I'd managed to walk out of that bistro with a hunk of baby spinach stuck to my bottom lip, semi-trailing out of my mouth.
If I was a cow or rabbit this would give me that thoughtful ruminant look much sought after by those species. However, being human and all, walking around with a wedge of spinach stuck to my lower lip instead gave me that "Hi, I'm 53 and my mom still ties my shoes for me" look.
Not quite so sought after.
Wait, it gets worse. When I got home I tried to drink a cup of hot tea and somehow managed to dribble a fair bit of it down the front of my shirt. As I write this, I'm sipping tea whilst wearing a towel around my neck because until the freakin' freezing leaves my mouth I need a bib.
All I can say is that this freezing better be gone before the spousal unit get home.
He'd never let me live down a bib.
Oh man. This is going to be hard
Goal for 2004: 1,000 miles - 1609 kilometers
Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -
.:Adventures In Oz:.
.:12% Beer:. .:Links:. .:Host:. .:Archives:.
This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine. Kids, don't try viewing this at home without Netscape 6 or IE 4.5+, a screen resolution of 800 X 600 and the font Mead Bold firmly ensconced on your hard drive.
©2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.