Thursday, February 17, 2011

And the only prescription was more cowbell

This past Sunday, I celebrated my 26th birthday.
By no means is that a remarkable event in itself. It just so happened that a few other events also timed themselves nicely to all land on that fateful Sunday.

After weeks of bitterly chilly weather, the clouds parted and outside thermometers triumphantly climbed towards 60 degrees. Old friends called to sing me a rowdy rendition of "Happy Birthday" amidst snorts and giggles. At 7:32am, I had also received a phone call from my folks. My mom tried to get a heartfelt birthday message in while my dad made crying noises and screamed things that I had said as a child in the background. It was classic. I had also completed my taxes in record time and was expecting a lovely, stress-reducing amount of bankage to arrive in my lap. Money isn't everything, but I won't argue when it knocks on my door and asks to help out.

The day was off to a fantastic start.

I was scheduled to work that afternoon; however, seeing as I was Birthday Boy, I felt that it would take a lot to slow me down.

Like, Cyborg Hitler riding on a Tyrannosaurus lot.
                            (closest representation I could find for an image)

The family I was working with that afternoon was scheduled to visit the movies. The little seven-year old girl had asked her daddy to take her to see "Tangled," a recent remake on the Rapunzel tale. Now, I do not watch a ton of newer movies, but of the recent kiddy films that I have seen, there seems to be a fair amount of material that is aimed at amusing the parents. "Tangled might not be so bad," I told myself, still riding high on birthday cheer.

I picked up the little lady and headed to the theater to meet her father. As we entered the front doors, we were greeted by a display for the movie "Never Say Never" which featured Justin InsertGirlyScreamHere Beiber. In slow motion, the little girl's jaw dropped, hand raised to point, and head moved with pure jubilation to face her dad.

"Daddy! Daddy! Can we go see the Justin Beiber movie?"

My heart sank. I knew what would come next. Her dad looked at me inquisitively as the only thing that moved on my body was my left eyelid in a twitchy, spastic motion. He smiled at his daughter and said, "I guess we can, Sweety."

OK. Whatever. Dear Justin Beiber: Challenge accepted.

We bought our tickets and filed inside the theater. What followed was an hour and thirty minutes of ...

a documentary?

It was not two hours of girls shrieking and professing their love for Beiber (there was some, mind you. Picture the Egyptians protesting Mubarak, only add more pink, more signs asking for marriage, and more cars on fire). It was not two hours of his damnable music. It was not two hours spent wishing I had been struck by a fire truck in the parking lot.

Now, before you start pointing a finger and labeling me with "The Fever," I did rationalize my presence there with some consolations. It was only for a few hours. The little girl and her dad spent some quality time learning about rigors that celebrities go through. I was getting paid.

However, it did make me laugh. My allegiances were bought for a measly $25. If you find yourself needing your house painted or an extra kidney, I'm your man for the low, low price of $25 it would seem.

Would I go see the movie again?
No, no. Nononono.
Do I now know more about Beiber than I care to admit?
Uh, yeah.
Did it give me something to write about?
I guess.

That's enough of a win in my book.

May you all have a wonderful, enlightening, and, with any luck, Beiber-less filled week ahead.


"Anna Molly" - Incubus
"Breakfast Cat" - RX Bandits
"The Thief" - Minus the Bear

"Nurtureshock" - Po Bronson and Ashley Merryman
Time magazine's "2045: The Year Man Becomes Immortal"

1 comment:

  1. My sisters and I were discussing things that needed more cowbell the other day. You get one cool point for the reference to that great Christopher Walken and Will Ferrel skit.