MORE TALES FROM MY YOUTH:
A boy in my art class was the epitome of teenage angst. He wore his hair long, was never without his black leather jacket to which he was constantly nibbling on the sleeve like some orally-fixated Jared Leto-type. He was beautiful and imperfect, like a half-finished painting. And not too bright. More like a half-finished paint by numbers, but still, I liked him as much as any ninth grader could.
A few months later we started dating and things were going well if not a little awkwardly. A girl I was mildly friends with slipped me a note in my Social Studies class: "How're things going with him?" I peeked at the pompous teacher at the front of the class as he went on and on about the effectiveness of deodorant (I'm still unsure of the relevance of that topic to Social Studies) and hastily scribbled "Yes! I think I'm in LOVE!" before passing it back to her.
Two days later we broke up. Two and a half days later found him and his new folically-challenged girlfriend making out on the wall outside my Spanish class.
Luckily I didn't have to see him much after that gut-wrenching experience.
Until my sister started dating him, that is.
I guess that's how we find out who our real friends are - PLUS - you've got to date a lot of bad guys in order to find the good one, right?
Speaking of which... Harry and I really wanted to see "The Bank Job" which came out today. Problem is we wanted to make it to the 6:50pm movie and wanted to dinner too. Our solution - Hillbilly Hotdogs and their kinda fast drive thru. We sped away with a bag full of deep fried fries, a chicken sandwich and deep fried hot dogs. Oh yeah. ROMANCE! We then parked in the movie parking garage and stuffed the food in our face trying to ration the small soda we were sharing and holding the steaming hot food in front of the air conditioner vents in order to cool them enough to stuff into our waiting mouths. I was still chewing up the last bit of spicy sauce-covered bun when we dashed from the car and ran down the stairs and out in the rain to get ice cream to smuggle into the movies. Five minutes and a purse full of illegal outside food later we were waiting in line where Harry bought me a HUGE bag of popcorn, a cherry icee.
I'm still not sure what I ended up eating tonight.
And how much of it will make a return visit before the night is over, however, I almost found out when a scary trailer appeared on the large screen. A man takes a picture of a killer on a subway train and tracks him back to his job at a meat-packing plant.
And what did they decide to call this thriller?
This horror movie du jour?
"The Midnight Meat Train."
What's worse is that it's based on a short story written by Clive Barker.
I tried to hold in my giggles as the title flashed on the screen but I kept sputtering and saying "Are they serious? The Midnight Meat Train? Really? THAT'S what they came up with? It sounds like a porno. And not even a good one!" Soon the girls in front of us were laughing too.
So that's my evening and now I'm going to bed.
Thanks for putting up with my strolls down bad memory lane.
Have a great weekend ya'all!