Last night was impromptu movie night here in the Shakespeare house.

Impromptu movie night is any night that Mr. Shakespeare just so happens to stop by the video store on his way home from work. Impromptu movie night is also the night where we find ourselves watching the same movie for the fifteenth time (Mr. Shakespeare doesn't always remember what we've seen or not) or reveling
the *ahem* delights of films that we'd hoped to never have seen (American Pie: The Naked Mile anyone?).

Yesterday's choice was In the Land of Women.

This film is a prime example of trailers gone very very wrong… While I knew that I'd be interested in seeing this movie due to the casting of the ever-so-lovable Adam Brody, I wasn't expecting it to earn a place in one of my many favorites lists. After all, the previews hinted at a plot centered around some sort of angst-filled relationship between Brody's character and that of actress Kristen Stewart. And while there's absolutely nothing wrong with a bit of angst-filled young love, one has to wonder just how many ways it can be done without becoming not so "angst-filled and young" as the next 5,000 similar titles in line ahead and behind it.

Thankfully, I was in for a surprise.

Rather than just another teenager in love movie, I found myself caught up in a story of many loves… and the subsequent struggle to recognize the difference between what makes a love "real" and what just looks good on a poster.   

Meg Ryan did a heartbreakingly beautiful job as Sarah, and Olympia Dukakis played the role of my great-grandmother to perfection. If you get a chance to see it, be sure to stop by and let me know what you thought!

(On another note: If the sound of his laughter was any indication, Peter seemed to enjoy The Naked Mile as much as any of the other guy-humor-filled movies like it… of course, I can't be certain.  I was  hiding in the bedroom trying to save braincells. :)

Last night, Peter and Lil' Man had a serious discussion on the merits of a clean bedroom. The following is a true and actual recount of said conversation as heard from the dining room (where I was clearing away the dinner plates):

Peter: mumble.mumble.mumble mumble mumble.

Lil' Man: Oh. Mumble mumble mumble.

Peter: Grumble.

Lil' Man: Well, mumble mumble mumble mumble.

Peter: Mumble mumble grumble grumble grumble. Mumble.

Lil' Man: Mumble, mumble, mumble. Mumble, Sir.

Peter: Don't patronize me, son.

I stopped for a moment to ponder whether or not an eight-year-old would understand the definition (and subsequent implication) of patronizing… Did I, at eight, know the definition of patronize?

Sure I did! Just as I knew that my mother couldn't have any more babies because she'd had a tonsillectomy. 

And I'm pretty crafty too.

No, that's not right. Let me try again:

And I have the potential to be pretty crafty. I just haven't quite gotten around to actually doing anything about it.

Honestly, there are millions of nifty little ideas floating around in my head, and somewhere in this often overburdened subconscious (to whom I like to refer to as Molly) is a plan to put them all to good use. Unfortunately, as Molly and I are currently not on speaking terms since she refuses to share with me the undoubtedly profound reasons why she's been forcing me to hoard beer bottle caps and glue sticks for the last twenty years; I don't see myself fulfilling said potential any time soon.

But one day, one day, I will create something like this fabulously frightening chandelier, sell it on eBay for a handsome virtual dollar or two, and then move on to something much more commercially appealing like scrapbooking or bounty hunting or something.

It's been a while since we stopped and chatted a bit about that pretty piece of meat that I married, hasn't it?

Well, as luck would have it, he's been quite interesting the last couple of days and has been declared officially
"blog-worthy" enough to merit his very own post… And what better way to kick off my shiny new blog design than to gossip about the significant other, eh?

Let's see… where to start?

Oh, yes! My Peter is now officially circumcised bald.
Not by choice, mind you, as my Peter is also a self-proclaimed "pretty
boy"who generally uses more product in his hair than all of the members
of Poison combined… but bald he is.

It seems that in our quest to save a buck or two, the decision to
practice the art of "self"-cosmetology was made rather hastily; and
despite the nifty salon-like atmosphere provided by the joyful buzzing
of our new set of clippers and a swiveling barstool, it was also rather
stupid.

It also seems that there is a big difference between a "1" guard and a "3" guard. Who'd have thunk it?

Holding the offending clipper in my hand and looking at the large path
of bald in the middle of my husband's head
(picture an inverted sort of mohawk), I did what any sane woman would
do. I blamed him. I got to give it to him, though, he took it all very
well- or at least he put up a really good front and saved his tears for
when I wasn't sitting there staring at him with a look of shock on my
face.

And while I'm not all that fond of the Mr. Clean look on my husband's
pretty head, it's amazing the money we're saving on hair gel.

Oh! And what do you think about the new makeover? I think it makes me look thinner… :)

I guess it was inevitable…

I am on the verge of becoming one of those silly monsters that blog only about their excuses for NOT blogging. Sigh.

So, instead of filling your head with all of my pretty excuses (good,applicable, and slightly exaggerated as they may be), I've decided to tell you a bit about something that has absolutely NOTHING to do with my not blogging as regularly as I ought and EVERYTHING to do with the reason why I stopped wearing my pretty pink tutu and diamonique-encrusted tiara out in public.

You see…

I fall down in movie theaters.

As a matter of fact, I only fall down in movie theaters.

Now, I've never been what one might consider the epitome of all that is gracefulness and  coordination. Well, perhaps I should clarify that…

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