Dick Clark: Annoying Game Show Host

I love watching game shows from my youth.

I’ll never pass an episode of Match Game while channel surfing, and my family still likes watching Family Feud, regardless of the host. Both of those games remind me of lazy weekday afternoons—school was out, your homework might be done, and there was most likely a half eaten bag of Doritos in the room.

Another great weekday game show was the $10,000 Pyramid, which in the 80′s became the $25,000 Pyramid. I watched about a zillion episodes of this show, and as the years passed by, Dick Clark became increasingly annoying to me.

30 years later, stuck at home as an unemployed house wife, I have time to watch the Game Show Network. Today I watched a few episodes of the Pyramid, and you know what? Dick Clark is doubly annoying. He had a few trademark moves that I find totally irritating; moves that I’m sure others found endearing. Let me share them with you and see if you agree.

The Winner’s Circle was where most of these moves occurred:

• If you were running out of time and were close to a win, he’d yell “HURRY!” Nothing breaks your concentration like being loudly reminded that you are about to turn the winner’s circle into the losers circle.
• If the giver said “pass,” Dick would yell “TURN IT!” or “NEXT!” It’s like he has so little faith that the guys behind the scenes are paying attention, that he has to remind them by shouting at them. Or, could it be that he has an insatiable need to control the show?
• When the contestant lost, Dick would walk over to the railing, fingers on pursed lips, deep in thought, and would inevitably offer up “the perfect clue.” Ugh. It is sooooo annoying.

Another annoying Dickism was when there was a tie. Tie breakers were clues that began with the letter *blank* or the letter *blank*. The part that gets under my skin was when Dick would over enunciate the alphabet letter so there could be no confusion as to what letter he was referring to. And I mean OVER enunciate – If it was the letter “A,” Dick’s mouth would open wide as the Grand Canyon.

I know I may sound like a nit-pickin’ sour puss, but I can’t help it. These gestures of his aggravate the hell out of me.

It was as if he was trying to be more than just a host…he wanted to be part of the game. He wanted to be important to the game, not just some bubble head that introduced subjects and ushered folks to the winner’s circle.

I loved that quality in Richard Dawson, and in Bob Barker. But it just flat out hated it in Dick Clark. I wanted him to just shut up and let Nipsey Russell recite his poems.

On Demand TV Be Damned!

I am doing absolutely nothing. Ok, not nothing, but close to it.

My unemployed days are spent lolling around in a dark room watching television shows that I had never watched before, but have now become addicted to.

First it was “Girls.” Luckily there had only been one season at that point, so I was able to catch up in a single day.

After that,  a “Walking Dead” marathon weekend chained me to my couch for two days straight. At least I shared that obsession with my two daughters. You could kind of file it under family time.

Then it was “Downton Abbey.” That took a few days because the shows are an hour long and I had two and a half seasons to watch. My husband was working almost non-stop at that point so I was able to spend most of time viewing it on our living room TV – where the sun shines and I feel like I am somewhat part of the living, breathing world.

Once I got caught up with both Hannah and the Grantham gang, I needed a new show. I had acquired a taste for non-stop entertainment – for discovering those progrmas that the masses were talking about, but I was oblivious to.

My regular readers will know that I then gravitated to “Homeland.” Oh, that show was wonderful. I spent the better or 3 or 4 days watching seasons 1 & 2 – 24 action-packed, suspense-filled episodes. This was beginning to become a dangerous and lonely trend, though.

With hubby home more often, the living room television is mainly controlled by him. He watches ESPN classic which plays old baseball games from 1979, or interviews with Howard Cosell and some legendary sports figure that I don’t know or care about. So if I’m in the mood to watch TV, I have to take myself to one of my daughter’s rooms; rooms with very little light and very little television sets.

That’s how I watched “Homeland;” crouched in the dark on a bed in an entertainment induced coma. Yes, I would twist open the blinds and let in some light, but before long, the light would fade as the sun went down and I realized it was time to cook dinner.

I was both dismayed and relieved when I’d watched all the episodes. Perhaps now I could join the living; get out and walk, maybe take up my crocheting again, or try some new recipes. Didn’t I have better things to do than stare at an illuminated box?

Not once I discovered “Weeds.”

Yes, yet another Showtime original (damn, they have some good writers there) has taken claim of my miserable, pathetic life. And there are 7 seasons. S-E-V-E-N. I am currently in the middle of season 6 – this translates into me sitting in sweatpants, in the dark, staring at a television for most of this past week. I will say that I have showered every day. I have also gone to the store and brought the kids to school. Outside of that I’ve pretty much been a “Weeds” watching zombie.

So now let’s talk about the show. I have a love-hate with Nancy. As the seasons are progressing, she’s becoming less cool and more wtf to where I just want to smack her. And why the hell is she always on the last few sips of a latte? It’s never full – always empty with a loud slurp.

Andy will be my boyfriend in my next life. Celia is a never-ending source of amusement for me. I adore Dean and Doug – I wish I could spend a day with them and a bong.

It has made me laugh out loud at least once an episode. The taint/runway argument was legendarily funny. Celia calling Dean  “Harley Davidstein,” was a knee-slapper, as was anything U-Turn said, and all conversations between Andy and Doug are guaranteed to bring at least one chuckle.

It’s a really filthy, funny show. And I can’t stop watching it. Not until I’ve seen the very last episode of season 7. I figure I’ll be done in time to cook Easter dinner and hide a few eggs.

After that you have a vow from me. There will not be a hunt for a new show – I will not latch onto “Dexter” or “Mad Men.” I’ll pass on “Game of Thrones” and “Breaking Bad.” I’ll stay away until I’ve done a few things…cleaned out my cabinets, raked every leaf, mulched my garden and lost 10 pounds.

Then, and only then will I hit that button on the remote. The one that gives me access to every season of every show that everyone is talking about. But for now, On Demand Be Damned!

My Homeland Binge

I spent the past week sitting on my daughter’s bed in the dark watching episode after episode of Homeland. I would come out from time to time to check facebook, or cook a meal, or run the d-wash, but for the most part I was chained to a 13″ TV.

I went on a similar binge a month or so back with Downton Abbey. I decided to watch one episode and that was it. Hooked.

So this past week I decided I needed to find a new show to obsess over. Hell, I’m unemployed – isn’t this what I’m supposed to do with my spare time? The problem is, when I find the right show, I have no spare time. Every waking minute is spent getting my chores done so I can watch another episode with no guilty pangs, or sitting and watching. Once the kids are home it’s almost impossible to watch. There are just too many interruptions.

I began with Dexter, but I was eating lunch and it was too gorey. I switched to Veep, but had to stop it halfway through for one reason or another. When I finally sat down to watch a new show, I chose Homeland. Howard Stern always raves about it, so I figured I’d give it a go. Episode 1 Season 1 – click play. And thus, began my week-long obsession.

I watched the final episode yesterday right before my youngest got off the bus, and ran to the computer to see when the next season begins. Crap – Season 3 won’t begin until SEPTEMBER. I didn’t time this binge properly.

Here is my Homeland debriefing. I love Carrie, even if it is a bit annoying that she always figures things out in time. I love Brody – he’s not really attractive, but I’m still so attracted to him. I hate Brody’s wife. She’s annoying with her pursed lips and her flippy hair. And who calls their husband by their last name? Shouldn’t she be calling him Nicke? Just go marry Mike already. Brody’s daughter is annoying – she’s always depressed. I adore Saul – I keep waiting for him to say, “Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”

While I sat in the living room basking in the glow of viewing 2 full seasons of this action packed show, my darling little 11 year old came off the bus in tears. She’d had a bad day – it was picture day, and it was themed where you could pose with groups of friends. Nobody wanted to pose with her. Then the bullies on the bus were in rare form and it made for one sad little girl by the time she got home.

We had long talk, and a good cry, because I know how she feels. Then we took a walk together which cleared our heads and cheered us up. This is my homeland – my real homeland. While Carrie and Saul are fighting terrorists, I’ve got to teach my girl how to deal with life’s bullies better. I’ve got to teach her that being nice to people isn’t always reciprocated, and just because there are girls who are cruel does not mean that you are a loser.

I need to get my ass off the couch and help my little girl feel better about herself.

Sitting in the Cheap Seats

A few months ago a movie megaplex opened in town, thus wiping most of the competition in its extra buttery wake. One movie house became the “artsy fartsy” theater, showing independent and small release films. One flat out shut down – it only had 4 screens anyway. The other, became the discount theater.

Every seat $1.50.

Now that’s a bargain. Yes, the movies are a tad old, but who cares? It’s cheaper than the $4 rental when it comes out on DVD!

The theater that adopted this cheap seat policy is one I had banned in the past. I was tired of paying top dollar for a movie that had bad sound, or stale popcorn, or played 18 trailers. I kid you not…one time we watched 40 minutes of commercials and trailers and I had to get up and complain for them to wake the hell up and start the movie! When you’re paying $7 a person, that ain’t flushing.

But for a buck fifty? Not so bad. Consider yourself officially un-banned. I love a bargain too much to hold a grudge. Besides, I’m no stranger to the discount movie house.

My sister Wendy and I used to go to this one cheap-o movie theater in Tenafly, NJ back in the day when movies tickets were a whopping $3.00. They only charged you 99 cents and you saw 2 movies. The titles were real duds – what today might be straight to dvd movies or films that had a few years on them.

I remember seeing “Yanks” with Richard Gere, “Paradise Alley” with Sylvester Stallone, “When a Stranger Calls” with Carol Kane, and “Time After Time” with Malcolm McDowell. Even if the movie sucked, we had fun ripping on it.

From now on if the girls and I want to see a movie, the cheap-o theater will be my first choice.

Downton Abbey – Go Screw Thineself

A few weeks ago I became intrigued with all the hullabaloo surrounding Downton Abbey and decided to give it a try. Every episode from every season was available on demand on my cable system, and remember, I am unemployed. With so much time on my hands it was a win/win situation.

By the 2nd episode I was really hooked and totally engrossed in the lives of the family and staff…the stuffy but lovable Mr. Carson, the scheming O’Brien, the witty Violet Crawley, the pathetic Edith, Anna Smith and Mr. Bates – the list is endless! But one constant theme was the connection between Mary and Matthew.

From the start you were rooting for these two! First it was the story line of would they or wouldn’t they marry. Enter Lavinia and a season of turmoil…she was nice, but you didn’t want Matthew to marry her! When Mary and Matthew finally tie the knot, it was a real gimme for viewers – the star crossed lovers actually wind up together. Hooray!

Then it was would they or wouldn’t they conceive. Who’s to blame? Mary? Matthew? At the end of episode 6, the couple has the green light for conception – everyone’s parts are working…Send Miss Anna packing, lock the door, and get at it!

IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE FINAL EPISODE OF SEASON 3 STOP READING NOW.

I did not see the last episode of Downton Abbey live. I DVR’ed it because was too busy falling asleep while watching Walking Dead at 9 pm. I love Downton too much to nod off while watching it. It’s more of a 2 pm show for me…snuggled on the couch all alone – no interruptions.

But Facebook can be a real buzz kill for those who DVR stuff. This morning one particularly loud-mouthed and careless person had to mention that there was a death on Downton Abbey. Fuck…I didn’t want to know that. As I pondered it, I figured it made sense, this being the season finale and all.

As I began watching the final episode today, it opens with Mary 8 months along in her first pregnancy. Well, that was quick! It’s one of the things I like about the show – months may have elapsed between episodes. As the story began to unfold I kept thinking of who was going to bite the big one.

Was it going to be the conniving Mr. Barrow? No, he just got beat up. Was Mrs. O’Brien going to fall prey to the jealous maid at the Scottish castle? No, that wasn’t it. As the episode unfolded, I sort of forgot about that ominous facebook post.

The episode ends with Mary giving birth to her son. She and Matthew are all aglow with parental pride and a genuine love for one another. The gang at Downton are equally thrilled – there is an heir and all is good in the world.

The camera shows Matthew driving to Downton in sheer bliss – he is a father – he has a son. And I remember the facebook post. I start yelling “no!” at the TV. My girls wonder what is wrong. A delivery truck turns the corner right in front of Matthew’s car. He is shown pinned under the car, eyes open and blood pouring from his head.

What the fuck Downton? Didn’t we just lose Sybil? I know it’s been like a year in the story line, but it’s just been 2 or 3 episodes for us. Another major loss is just too much too soon.  And Matthew? Really? If you felt like you had to kill off a character, why him?

Life doesn’t work like that. You made us euphoric and then you pulled the rug out from underneath.

And for that, you suck.

I don’t know if I can watch anymore. I don’t trust the show – it’s like anything can happen now. What’s next…Mrs. Patmore poisons the Earl? Cora and O’Brien have a threesome with Mr. Carson? It seems like all bets are off.

The only thing I can cling to is that he’s not really dead. But after him being paralyzed and then cured that would be even more stupid than him being dead. And you can’t pull a Bobby Ewing either.

I am so bummed. You’ve ruined my new favorite show.

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Author footnote: I just read that the reason they did this was because the dope who plays Matthew was leaving the show to pursue some other lame-o acting role. I guess I can forgive the writers now and keep on watching.

The Doug Simpson Connection

If you’ve ever watched The Brady Bunch as a kid, or as an adult (like me – with a twinge of shame), you know the episode where Marcia gets her nose bashed by her careless football throwing brothers right before her big date with Doug Simpson. I must have seen that episode upwards of 50 times, and one day while watching it in my 20s, a though occurred to me. I’d seen that face before!

It happens to all of us – the “I know that actor! They were on…on…” accompanied by finger snapping or head scratching. Now-a-days you can easily look up any actor’s professional resume online (i.e. IMDb), but back in the 80s? It required a brand of persistent sleuthing.

When the episode ended, I jotted down the actor’s name – Nicholas Hammond. Nope, didn’t ring a bell. But I know I’d seen him before, and I knew where. Doug Simpson, the big man on campus in the iconic “Oh my Nose!” Brady Bunch episode was also a main character in another of my childhood favorites.

The Sound of Music.

I was sure of it, but didn’t want to say anything until I had proof. After all, I’d been wrong before. A lot. I swore to my friend John that “Dancing Queen” was the song that played at the prom in the movie Carrie, and I made my husband roll off the couch laughing when I thought that Burl Ives was one of the guys tortured in The Naked Prey.

Yeah, my track record wasn’t great.

So what was a pre-internet gal to do in order to prove her point? I waited. Waited until The Sound of Music came on television. Yeah, I probably could have rented to movie, or looked it up at the library or something, but let’s face it – this wasn’t the quest for the holy grail or anything.

Marcia, can I interest you in some strudel?

A holiday weekend eventually came and The Sound of Music was aired, and there it was…Nicholas Hammond’s screen credit as one of the von Trapp children. Yes, Doug Simpson and Friedrich von Trapp were one and the same. Who’d have guessed that this young lad, skipping gaily through Salzburg in lederhosen and feathered cap would eventually bring Marcia Brady to her knees.

And why is this important? It’s not. It’s just that I’m sort of a Brady Bunch know it all, and it’s just one more fact to add into the noodle database.

Fun Footnote: Turns out Nicholas Hammond was also in the original black and white (and best) version of Lord of the Flies. He also played Spiderman, but I don’t find that fact quite as fun.

My Seinfeld Should-a

Back before Jerry Seinfeld was “Seinfeld” my sister and I totally dug his comedy. Having seen him do stand up on your various late night talk shows, we had become big fans. Our quest was to see him live, and living right outside New York City made it a tad bit easier. Or so you’d think.

This was the days way before the internet and online ticket ordering. Sis had heard Jerry was performing at a joint called “Mr. Chuckles” or “Mr. Giggles” somewhere out on Long Island or past Westchester somewhere in the middle of NY state. I can’t remember which, I just know it was a haul to get there. She had called and reserved us seats for his show and we made the almost 2 hour drive to see him live.

When we reached the broken down excuse for a comedy club and she showed the ticket guy the confirmation number, he told us to get lost. There were no tickets held under her name and we needed to step aside. I argued with him for a good 10 minutes, trying my hardest to hold up the line just to piss him off. I knew there was no way we were getting in, so I may as well make his night as miserable as he was making mine.

We went to a bar and drowned our sorrows instead.

A few months later, we got tickets to a show that Jerry was performing at “Bananas,” a comedy club they had inside the Holiday Inn in Fort Lee, NJ. This was great because it was the town right next to ours…no long drive this time! The night of the show I dolled myself up and was looking mighty fine. You know how there are some nights it just all comes together…hair, clothes, make up? This was one of those nights for me!

The “comedy club” was nothing but one of their ballrooms with a stage up front. We sat at long tables that ran perpendicular to the stage. I noticed that when Jerry came in, he simply entered from the hallway door – no backstage passageway – no security of any kind. That’s when I had the idea.

The show was great – he did all his routines that are now considered “classic”…Halloween, the missing sock from the dryer. What can I say…we laughed our asses off. My sister and her friends were such huge fans I had decided to try and get his autograph, which was my aforementioned idea.

While he was taking his bows and thanking the crowd I sneaked out into the hallway and waited. Sure enough, 30 seconds later he came sauntering out of the main doors and was walking down the hall in front of me. I called out to him and he turned around.

This is where it gets surreal upon thinking back on it. I mean, he was famous then, but not that famous. I think his infamous TV show was scheduled to come out a year or so later. Therefore he was still approachable. But when I think of how famous he is now, the fact that I was approaching him is mind blowing for me.

He stopped and I caught up to him and began to chat while we walked. “The show was great,” ” you’re so funny,” “we’re big fans,” blah blah blah. Suddenly we enter a room…his dressing room! He says, “come on in.” I have not stopped talking, yet he doesn’t seem annoyed by me in the least. I tell him the story of how we tried to see him at Mr. Giggles (or Mr. Chuckles – I can’t recall) and how we were refused entry and were treated rudely. His response (which must be read in true Seinfeld voice) was, “Well, I’ll never play there again!”

I told him how my sister and her friend were such big fans, and could I get an autograph. While he was signing the back of one of the club’s fliers, I had another idea. Should I ask him out on a date?

Ok, while you are guffawing & sniggering, let me explain something. Aside from appearing on the Tonight Show, he was really just your typical local stand up comic. He wasn’t a Hollywood dude – he was a funny guy from Long Island. Plus, he seemed very natural and engaging. To just say to him “hey, here’s my number. If you’re ever interested in hanging out, give me a call” seemed like a natural move.

But, as fate would have it, and is so typical for Tracy, the moment was lost. For at that point the crowd was clamoring for his autograph/meet & greet and the once chance I might have had to ask out the man who would one day be insanely successful and rich slipped away. In the snap of a finger our intimate little tête à tête inside his dressing room was over, and I was just one of the crowd again.

I waved to him as we were leaving, and he gave me a head nod and a smile. It was really cool at the time, but is now a “smack yourself in the forehead for being such a chicken shit” moment in my life. I should have grown a pair and handed him my number when I had the chance.

On the one hand I think “yeah, like he would’ve ever called me.” But you never know – I may have had a way better story to tell if I had done it.

A Mother’s Role

My daughter is knee deep in try outs for the spring play. Her school is putting on Peter Pan, which I think is lame, but she is totally jazzed to get the part of Smee, Captain Hook’s little toady.

Her chances are good – she’s a senior and they usually get the better parts as a sort of farewell to high school drama. Plus, she’s got stellar memorization skills. I’ve seen her get 4 paragraphs of dialogue down pat in a matter of hours.

All of the above means that mom will also receive a role – the part of after hours chauffeur. I now get to look forward to months of putting dinner on “warm” and driving out to the high school to pick her up from practice, which can end anywhere from 5:30 to 8 pm, depending on how close they are to show time.

While this sucks the big garbanzo bean, I’m really happy she’s taking part in some sort of school activity – especially one her dear old mom took part in. God knows my kids aren’t particularly athletic. I don’t think I’ll ever sit and watch either of them compete in a school sport, but at least I’ll get to see my oldest on the stage.

I was always in the school play. The acting bug began early for me. My mother was a member of the Leonia Player’s Guild – an acting troupe that still exists today. They put on 3 plays a year, and the summer production was always their big blowout musical. The play was held outdoors in the park, and they always needed plenty of extras.

When I was around 11 I took part in “The Music Man” and loved it. There were tons of songs involving the townsfolk; Iowa Stubborn, Trouble, Wells Fargo Wagon – I got a ton of stage time. I adored being in that play and I still love watching the movie and singing along to the bazillion songs – I’ve blogged about that before.

But once I got to try out for school plays, I realized there was a horrible imbalance in the Leonia High School casting process. From 8th grade all the way to my senior year, I was mainly cast in the chorus with two exceptions. I was given one of 3 roles in a one act adaptation of “Vanities,” and I got to play Ursula in “Bye-Bye Birdie”, but only for one scene…we didn’t do the whole play, just “The Telephone Song” and “Sincere.” But I can still remember my one line:

“Speak to us oh beautiful one…tell us how you make that glorious sound. That even know, in anticipation of it all, has reduced me to a snarling, raging, panting jungle beast.”

The problem? All the shows were directed by the same woman, and she played favorites. The same dude got the leading male – he was handsome and had a good voice. And there were 3 girls who rotated between leading female and every other good role. That left nothing but chorus for the rest of us. “Pajama Game,” “How to Succeed in Business;” I was nothing more than background noise.

The seniors put on their own play each year. We were doing a play called “Stage Door” when I was a senior and unbeknownst to me those plays had a different director. I didn’t look at it as any sort of opportunity to finally get a good part – I was so conditioned to getting some miniscule, 2 line role that didn’t imagine anything better.

The play was about a bunch of actresses who live in a boarding house together. I read for a few different roles, and was expecting a small part playing one of the many would be actresses.

Instead, I got the second female lead – the role of Jean Maitland, the gal who leaves the Broadway stage, heads to Hollywood and comes back a star. Talk about a shocker. I was a nobody in school and I had a leading role.

It was a serious boost to my confidence. All those years where I did nothing but react to the main characters and sing along with the crowd? I thought it was because I sucked.

The play went well, I didn’t forget my lines or fall down. But life felt the burning desire to hurl one more spitball at me. When the yearbook came out in June, they did a 2 page write up of the play. Not only did they not put a picture of me, but they didn’t even mention my name.

In the plot synopsis, after each character was introduced, they would put (played by Jane Doe) in italics after it. So my sentence read:
“And the beautiful and glamorous Jean Maitland who heads to Hollywood to become a star.”

The (played by Tracy Bucek) was missing. Or omitted. I’ll admit it, when it comes to these mishaps, I’m always positive there is a conspiracy behind it. Just like when I was captain of the JV Volleyball team; the yearbook mysteriously left my name out of that caption too. At least my photo was there.

Now it’s my daughter’s turn in the spotlight. She’s had some solid roles in the 2 years she’s been participating in drama – way better than I got at her age. It shows what an equal opportunity director can do for a gal.

Paranormal Barf-tivity

BLOGGER’S NOTE: I meant to publish this days ago, but somehow forgot to push the “publish” button. doh!

My girls had no school today in observance of Veteran’s Day. Rather than having them stay home and fight, I offered to let them come to work with me, and then I’d take them to an afternoon movie. What made it more exciting was we were going to visit the brand new movie theater in town – an IMAX, stadium seating mega super duper plex.

It was about time we got one. All the theaters in town are run down shitholes with sticky floors, stale popcorn, and wiggly cup holders. We had decided to go see “Paranormal Activity 4″ – we’d seen, and loved, the other 3 and this coupled with our maiden trip to the brand new theater made us giddy with anticipation.

I purchased our tickets – $25 for the lot of us thanks to matinee prices – and was delighted to find out that because it’s their Grand Opening week, we get free popcorn and soda. This day was getting better by the second! I can’t recall the last time I had my own popcorn at the movies. Usually we get one bag and one soda and pass them between the 3 of us. By the time I get the popcorn to hold all the butter is gone and the popcorn is more like confetti rather than whole kernels.

We settle into our seats and wait for the movie to start. It was scheduled to start at 3:20. By 3:40 we were still watching trailers and I had a headache because the sound was so loud. After a brief chat with the head usher, the lights went down and the movie began. Within 4 minutes I was beginning to get hot, and very, very nauseous.

Shaky camera syndrome has struck me again.

Just like when I saw Cloverfield and Chronicle, the hand-held camera effect they use way too often in films nowadays made my stomach do flip flops. I tried to wait and see if the camera would steady – perhaps just that one segment of the movie was going to be shot in that hand held style. But it was no use, I was really feeling sick. I dejectedly handed my girls their candy, grabbed my purse and headed for the lobby.

The girls knew – they’d seen it happen to me before.

I went to the bathroom and splashed some water on my face. Then I sat in the lobby for a few minutes. I tried to go into a different theater to watch any movie…The new James Bond film was only a few minutes in. I tried to watch it, but my stomach hurt and my head was pounding. It was no use – I was done.

The usher saw me wandering around pale and sweaty and asked if I were ok. I explained my dilemma, and he suggested I ask for a refund. My husband had said the same thing when I called him, but I figured a huge joint like Regal Cinemas could care less that I was out $8.50. But the usher assured me the manager would be happy to help me out.

And help me out she did! Before I knew it she was handing me back my money – she even asked if there was anything else I wanted to see while I waited for my kids. I was flabbergasted.

Instead I walked around the new shopping center that the theater anchors. But I really felt lousy. Even looking through the new Pier 1 held no pleasure for me. I was hot and headachey and no amount of bauble browsing was going to make me feel better. I sat on a bench in the drizzle until the movie was out.

Then there was the drive home in the dark and the rain. With bad wipers on my car.

I think I’m done with the movies unless I get a certified letter from the studio that no cameras were hand-held. And when I do go, I’ll give our new theater all of my business. They know how to treat a customer right.

Walking Dead Wasted Weekend

This weekend was one of those rare beauties…crisp, clear and cool. The perfect weekend for work outdoors, a hike, maybe apple picking.

And what did I do?

Well, on Saturday morning I walked into my oldest daughter’s room with my entire weekend looming before me…the possibilities were endless. And then she said, “AMC is running a ‘Walking Dead’ marathon. The first episode just started.”

Hmm? Whassat?

I had wanted to watch this show, but hate entering into a series halfway through. This was my perfect opportunity to try the show out. I’d heard so many people talking about it on Facebook and in the office – now was my chance to see what all the fuss was about.

I decided to pop a squat on daughter’s bed and give episode one a shot. And episode two. And three. Before long I was asking hubby if he could go to the store for me…there was no way I could leave. Oh, and I can’t cook dinner either so plan on getting take out.

I did chores during the commercials – cleaning the tub and folding laundry – but the bulk of my day was spent hunkered down in my kids’ bedrooms watching Rick and the gang fight zombies with a total lack of southern charm.

I watched all of season 1 and half of season 2 on Saturday – until sleep overcame me. Sunday dawned beautiful once again – a day that called for me to grab a rake, or a bike, or my sneakers. But instead I hunkered down in a dark bedroom once again to watch the remaining episodes of season two.

I couldn’t help myself – the show is so good. Predictable at times…the girls and I could almost always pinpoint when shit was going to go down. But the plot twists and continuous zombie skull crushing action kept me from ever getting bored. As a matter of fact, I burned our dinner last night because I got so caught up in the plot, that by the time the commercial came on our meat and veggies were rather crispy.

Funny thing is that by 9 pm, when season 3 was premiering, I was exhausted. I had been through the zombie apocalypse for 2 days straight. And to be honest, 9 pm is nighty-night time for me. I tried my best to watch, but by 9:30 I was fading, so I made the executive decision to take off my glasses, roll over, and go to sleep.

That’s what On Demand is for.

Stupid part is, I feel really guilty for wasting my weekend. I turned my back on all that sunshine and luscious fall weather in order to watch television…for TWO DAYS. But you know what? I am psyched that the weekend was mine to waste.

This was the first time in months where one weekend day or another wasn’t blocked out for some kid activity – driving tests, SATs, costume shopping. Those two days were MINE, and I spent them the way I wanted to. So I guess that counts for something.

And the weekend wasn’t a total loss – I became a Walking Dead fan. One more show to DVR and to savor while I sit on the couch with my feet tucked under me.

That’s if I can ever get the main TV away from my husband.