Friday, February 1, 2013

Alvin, I'd Rather Eat My Own Eyeballs

Originally Posted January 28, 2012

In 1968 I was seven years old and my dad took me to see “Herbie the Love Bug”. It was a rare thing that I was out with Dad without Mom and he and I had never been to the movies together before. This time my mother was in England seeing her parents, my brothers were older and had moved out so it was just me and my dad.

I have a few very vidid memories of  that week. 

I put a plastic gem in my nose to see what it would like. It looked great but when I breathed in it moved upstream and got stuck there. My frantic father called my mom in England for advice, after a few seconds he handed me the phone, my mom told me what to do and while he was back on the phone with her I blew that sucker out. I also remember going to A and W a lot. It wasn't the drive-in version of the joint, we had an A and W coffee shop up the road and we sat at the counter. Fancy. Then there was the spaghetti incident; my dad was straining the noodles when they splooshed out of the colander into the sink and slid down the drain. I heard the word “shit” for the first time and thought it was a magic word because soon after he he said it we were at the A and W counter again.

The movie date stands out. I was so excited to see Herbie and to be out with my Aramis-scented dad. We got popcorn and drinks, went into the theatre, picked seats and no sooner had the lights dimmed that my dad started snoring. I was mortified but had no clue what to do. The notion of poking him did not seem like something that would end happily so I did nothing. Later when he said he the movie was great and he had had a good time I was mortified to learn a parent could lie.

Forty-three years later I am a parent and have considered eating my own eyeballs during Alvin and the Chipmunks, I can see that sleep would be a welcome escape.

Jack is going snowboarding in an hour with Donny and Clancy wants to see Beauty and the Beast in 3D. This is the atrocious trifecta for me - princesses, singing and 3D ... see above: eating own eyeballs.  She can bring a friend, I will bring my Kobo, set the light on dim and read Stephen King’s massive tome about time travel and spoiling Oswald's big day out. Clancy won't be surprised to hear that I will want to read - bless her heart, she gets me.

She has known me for nine years in that time has had to put up with my utter refusal to play Barbies, she knows I would only get on a bike if someone invented a Nap n' Ride model and when she was younger I refused to read her anymore Rainbow Fairy books because they were so boring I told her they were going to melt her brain, and mine. I have been commended for being honest with my kids but it's hardly virtuous, I am motivated by complete selfishness. And, as you can well imagine, I have lied to them too when it suits me. Shameless.
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LATER

We just got back. We brought one of her pals along and I read. Once the wolves surrounded Belle and that idiotic Gaston tried to kill Beast I stopped reading so Clancy could snuggle into me (always lovely). I had never seen more than a minute or too of the movie before, when we watched it on DVD I usually took my leave once the singing started, so I was shocked to see what a hideous fellow the Beast transforms into. God gracious his head was forty times bigger than his waist. No wonder he was so miserable. (not to mention that underbite)

On the way home I asked the girls if they believed fireworks went off when two people kissed like in the movies and both girls said NO. But bless their hearts they still hold out hope that cups and candlesticks can talk.

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