The pivotal moment of the modern American romantic comedy says, "Hey, I'm not a jackass, you're the jackass if you can't forgive me for loving you so much. Aren't we both douchbags who deserve each other?"
As often as not there's a separation period where they show the guy disheveled and living amongst pizza boxes and beer can pyramids, and the girl is doing her best to carry on with her life amongst vignettes of her in pajama pants (again with the pajama pant shame), shoveling ice cream into her sad mouth, or of her wistfully eyeing the PDA's of other couples while moping around Central Park.
I know the drill and yet whenever MDH is out of town damn if I'm not getting my fill of horrible romantic comedies on cable. It's like a disease. They always make me mad and yet here I am again bitching this time about the drivel I just watched called "Something Borrowed". Maybe I should just avoid any movie with Kate Hudson in it (except she was so freaking awesome in Nine!).
I indulged in a desperately needed cleanse of my psyche afterwards by watching a fine documentary film called Bill Cunningham New York. You should watch it if you get the chance.
In other news:
- Apartment life kind of rocks. If something breaks I make a call and someone comes to fix it. Like, that same day! Not even that - if a light bulb goes out someone will come and change it. To take it one step further I called maintenance to have them remove the dark freckly pool of dead bugs at the bottom of one our ceiling light fixtures - and they actually came and took care of it!! Schweet.
- As cool as it is to have an entire fleet of maintenance workers and grounds keepers at my beck and call there is a downside to apartment living in the form of annoying neighbors. In particular some douchbag with the noisiest truck I've ever heard that he seemingly rumbles around the apartment complex in wide circles (puffed with pride at the sound of his loud, loud big man machine, no doubt massaging his very tiny cock the whole while ) stopping periodically under our dining room window (because it's near the security gate) and then revving the engine several times before peeling out to terrorize the larger world with his horrible tranportation choice. We literally have to pause the TV and stop all conversation and then peel the cat off the ceiling after the inevitable engine rev. We know his schedule as if we lived next to a train station. I loathe this person.
- A week or so ago some of my family came to visit in form of my crazy aunt Libby, her daughter (who is my cousin, but I refer to her as "my sister" quite a bit on this blog) and her daughter (who is my second cousin but I refer to always as my niece and she has always called me Aunt Lady). Aunt Libby is the one that came down to the hotel restaurant for breakfast in her housecoat (she called it a "dressing gown". I don't care what you call it, housecoat, dressing gown... inappropriate.) and no dentures in. Anyhoo... we had a lovely visit. We worked out when would be the best time for their visit and planned fun things to do while they were here. It was glorious and I couldn't have asked for a better visit.
- In two days my brother in law Miami is coming to stay with us "for awhile". I don't know much more than that. It's all news to me because I just found out a few days ago that he's coming. I don't know exactly when he will arrive and he has not been forthcoming with the exact date of his departure. "For awhile" is all I've been told. I'm frightened. MDH is frightened. Miami is a goodfella type who will ruin my life for the duration of his stay. He got angry when MDH told him he had to smoke outside and I consider this a bad start. Best case scenario - he'll dominate the TV and I'll miss the last few episodes of Project Runway. Worst case scenario - he will be here for weeks and weeks and bring well dressed criminals and prostitutes into my home and they will smoke cigarettes together in my guest room and I will have to burn my 600 thread count Egyptian cotton bedsheets. Worst-worst case scenario - someone will get stabbed and I will have to burn my fancy guest towels and somehow I will end up in prison because nothing, nothing is ever Miami's fault.