Friday, February 6, 2009

Eenie, Meenie, Mynie, Mo

I don't know about you,
but I'm the one
that always gets the blame
when there's nothing good to watch
on TV or DVD.

I don't know how I ever happened
to become the all-knowing guru
of TV Guideness.

And how in the heck was I elected
the Block Buster Queen
who spends days in there
trying to find satisfactory
entertainment choices
for my discriminating family?

I'd like to see them try.

It's not easy, you know-
Trying to make sense of a thousand
movies and hundreds of games-
all the while tripping over little kids,
snatching new releases before
anyone else does,
and avoiding the popcorn
and candy bar deals at the checkout.

Plus, the fact that each DVD box
contains only minimal information.
I usually go by the picture first-
a well designed cover
can sway me every time.
If I'm not wearing glasses,
it's usually hard to tell
if its a zombie movie or
a modern romance.
One time I just got lucky and
picked one that was both.
It was named My Shuffling Sweetheart
or something wild like that.

Which goes to show you
that you can't go by titles either.
I thought Cutting Class was
a teen age high school movie.
Who knew it was about
student butchers going bad?

I try not to be present in the TV room
whenever my selections are popped
into the DVD player.
I hide in the kitchen and
wait to hear screams or moans
or "Oh, Mom, what were you thinking?"
If I'm extremely lucky,
I'll hear a giggle, a laugh,
and a vocal approval.
Then I say "hallelujah"
and relax for the night.

Last week I picked out movie that
not only sounded great, but also
had a very attractive cover photo.
Titled What Are Best Friends For?-
it was a science fiction story
based in the future
where a group of college kids on a space flight
crash land on an uninhabited planet.
It was the epic story of their intense journey
to survive all odds
which ultimately leads to cannibalism.

Once the movie had started-
(and I hadn't heard any cries of disapproval)-
I sat down and watched a good portion of it.
I decided to make popcorn
during the last thirty minutes or so
and resumed the action
as the plane crash survivors
gathered around a fire.

"Where did they get the Spam?" I asked,
suddenly happy for the strangely-dressed
galactic victims.

"It's not Spam," my husband said dryly,
staring at me with that
Why-Do-You-Bring-Home-These-Stupid-Movies? look.

"Then, what

Oh." I whispered quietly,
actually trying to suppress a laugh.

So- the special effects weren't the greatest!
How was I supposed to know?

Next time they can all do the video shopping.
I'm giving back my Block Buster crown!