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Bang bang . . . .

Just finished watching Shoot ‘Em Up.  It didn’t suck but I think it was too ridiculous, too over-the-top.  The fact that the gaggle of under-21 boys that also watched loved it either drives home my point or proves that I’m just too old to get it.  Hollywood lies. Most hookers don’t look this hot.

I had five days off to memorialize my Memorial Day weekend.  What did I do? Basically nothing.  I watched a couple of movies.  Grilled some wings and watched the first big college football game of the year.  Got laid (yay, me).  That’s about it.  Well, there was one other thing.

The highpoint was when I went to visit The Ex Friday night.  I got there around 11 and the kids were still up.  MowHullet had a headache so I didn’t get to hang with him much.  Tried to convince him that me thumping him on the nose would cure his headache.  He was highly doubtful until I asked would I lie to him.  He didn’t figure I would.  They are so cute when they are young enough to still be naive.  I let it slide.

My Toes decided it was time to get my hair did again.  Despite my protests that I didn’t have enough hair for it, her inspiration that night was to make my do look like Elvis’s.  Evidently it took a big brush, 4 ponytail holders, a small clippy, and a barrette to get The King of Rock and Roll’s hair in shape.  Thankfully (Sadly?) there were no pictures this time.  I think I left with less hair than I came with.

Watched Rob Zombie’s version of Halloween.  I am a little conflicted as to whether I liked it or not.  First of all, John Carpenter’s original Halloween is one of my all-time favorite horror movies.  It’s not that it scared me, it’s just good.  That simple. I n addition to that, I generally don’t like re-makes.  Occasionally you get an Ocean’s 11 that is as good or better than the original but for the most part, I can do without them because they generally suck.  I basically went into this movie with a closed mind so you can probably take this review with a grain of salt.  Guess I’ll just point out the goods v. the bads.

Bad:  My biggest complaint (and I knew this going in) is that I feel Zombie took what was the fundamental element to what made the original a good story.  In the 2007 version, Michael is a mentally unstable child who has suffered the wrath of an abusive, alcoholic step-father, an uncaring older sister, school bullies, and the white trash indignity provided by a stripper mom.  Michael is evil because of his environment which basically reduces him to your typical serial killer.  In Carpenter’s original, Michael was evil simply because he was evil.  Evil without an explanation is not only more scary, but more compelling.  Second, I felt the movie got bogged down in the first half with all the back story.  And last, keep the fucking camera still.  This isn’t Blair Witch Project or NYPD Blue.  I know it’s supposed to add a sense of realism, which worked in Blair Witch, but I don’t believe there was someone following Micheal around with a camcorder to document his day.  This is a big budget Hollywood movie, quit trying to give me a headache.

Good:  It wasn’t as gory as his usual stuff.  There were a lot of titties.

I think the bad wins out.  The audience I watched it with sucked and probably affected my judgment.  There is an old joke about watching a scary movie with a theater full of black people.  Well they proved that stereotype this night.  Maybe I’ll give it another watch on a less crowded night and reassess my opinion.  Think I’ll go back to my usual style of movie reviews, they seem to make a better point.  There’ll be no “Hottness” in this one.  In the original, all the hot high school girls actually looked like hot college girls.  Despite the fact that the girls in the new one are old enough to be hot college girls, they really look like hot high school girls.  I just cling to the hope that they all the characters were seniors so I don’t regret typing the titty comment.

Just finished watching Death Sentence.  In the beginning, it almost really didn’t suck.  But, thanks to going way over the top and the plot having so many holes that I almost had to break out the colander again, it ended with just slightly not sucking.  She has some definite MILF qualities, though.

Took Moms to Little Rock for what only turned out to be tests and a conversation with the surgeon.  I worked a 12-hour shift, ending at 7am, hopped in the car for the 40-minute drive (in the opposite direction) to pick her up, then back to go to my house for a shower, and then, finally, started the two-hour drive to Little Rock.  We had to be at the hospital at 12:30 for a 1:00 appointment for the tests, followed by an appointment with the surgeon.  About a year ago, I went to get her for some tests and I got hung up in traffic and was too late for us to make the appointment.  We had to wait another week to get the tests, which made her pain last a week longer, which made me feel like a complete failure as a son.  Well thanks to my paranoia of that happening again and to the fact that I tend to peddle my little Hyundai over the speed limit, we got there at a slightly early 11:30.  The receptionist gave us a slight hint of shit for getting there early.  She said that we had time to go eat or whatever because it WOULD be no earlier than 1 before they could see us.  After which she promptly gathered her stuff and waddled out to pack an hour’s worth of eating into the 45 minutes she was taking for her 30-minute lunch break.  They finally started at the prompt time of 1:20pm for tests that would last at least an hour, making us late for the appointment we had to see the surgeon at 2pm.  On top of that, I got to hear the receptionist be rude to everyone who had the nerve to trespass her office, even those she had told to come in.

After finally getting to see the surgeon, the news was pretty much the usual rhetoric.  “Yep, you got some blockage.”  “Yep, we gonna operate.”  “Won’t know what we got til we get in there and root around.”  Of course he prettied it up with some fancy doctor talkin’ but that’s the gist.  They had ran some kind of something-of-a-gram to take a look at her left leg.  Can’t remember the name but it did involve Doppler because i could hear it from outside the room.  The man administering the test told Mom that her leg looked like a puzzle inside.  That’s cheery.  They also said that she had 85% blood pressure in her right foot (the somewhat good leg) and 34% in the left which, according to the surgeon, sucks (his exact word).  But, she had better color in the left foot than he thought she would have under those circumstances so I guess that’s a kind of plus.  We go back September 12 for another kind of something-a-gram that involves the blue dye and then he will perform some kind of bypass the next day.

After we left the hospital, I decided to take Mom to PF Chang’s, figuring she deserved a really nice dinner.  By this time, I had been up for 24 hours.  Stuffing myself with Chinese food wasn’t the most well thought out plan.  Dinner was long and filled with food, especially considering the cook made me orange peel shrimp instead of the orange peel beef I ordered so we got to keep it free of charge and Mom promptly tore into it.  I tried to pay the check but my Mom snapped at me, telling me to give her the check before she gets pissed.  You have to see what my mother looks like to truly get the humor in that.  Needless to say, both the waiter and I were shocked.

Just as we got outside Little Rock on the drive home, sleepiness started tapping me on the shoulder.  I toughed it out but after another 50 miles, sleep was smacking me around hard.  I pulled over and got Mom to drive.  My Mom is 69 years-old, 5’2″, maybe 95 pounds (most likely after all the PF Chang’s she had put away), and most of that weight must be in her right foot.  I had exited off the interstate and then stopped on the on-ramp to go back on the interstate for us to perform the Chinese fire drill.  After we were both buckled in, Mom launched the Hyundai (as much as you can launch a Hyundai) back onto the on-ramp, which had a major curve.  My head literally bounced off the headrest.  Her heavy-footness continued on the interstate.  I was almost too scared to nap.  I alternated between dozing and grabbing the oh-shit-handle above the door for about 30 minutes until we turned off and I took the reins again, driving home still jittered up from her mad wheel skills.

I have to take my mother to a hospital in Little Rock for some tests Monday. For those of you that don’t know, (and that’s all but 2 people) my mother had had a series of arterial bypasses and stints in both legs over the last three years or so. Lately it’s been nearly every three months. A few weeks ago, the doctor went in behind left knee to open up a blockage and she spent one night in the hospital. Things were looking up since she usually spends at least one day in ICU afterward and normally three to four days total in the hospital. Not even two weeks after this last procedure, she had either no feeling whatsoever in her left foot, or nothing but pain. You can pinch a spot and it will stay pink so she is getting blood flow there, but her surgeon is has no more ideas and is sending her to another doctor.

She is scared because a man she worked with went to the same doctor and came home without his foot and eventually lost his leg. I keep telling her that it was his situation, not her’s, and just because he lost his doesn’t mean she will lose her foot. How do I allay her fears but yet prepare her for something that is a possibility? I’ve told her over and over that lets just wait and see what the doctor says and that we can face anything that gets thrown our way. But honestly, I don’t think she can survive losing her foot. She has spent years staying in and staying away from situations that are difficult to tackle. After each surgery, especially when they started gaining in frequecy and difficulty, she became more and more depressed, especially when she wasn’t able to leave the house. She loses her foot, she’ll be too embarrased to leave the house. I am so scared that she will whither away and die.

I used to have an innate talent for saying the right things or at the very least give the heavy a little lightening but my words now sound hollow, even to my own ears. I am truly at a loss and probably for the first time in my life, truly scared of losing a parent.

Yep, that about says it.  I’m splitting for a couple of days.  Heading to the town that twang built.  Little Kurdistan.  Guitar Town.  Music City, USA.  Cashville.  Nashvegas.  Or simply Nashville, Tennessee, population a bunch.  Got a lot of stuff brewing in my head and there is nothing like sitting in a cheap motel alone, just you and 40 fuzzy channels, to stir one’s soul.  The first day I plan on exerting only enough energy to consume a plate of wings from Hooter’s and erasing the imprudent attempt at growing a beard from my face.

Friday I am planning to head over to the Mercy Lounge to catch Jason Isbell’s show.  If you don’t know who he is (and shame on you), he is a former member of The Drive-By Truckers.  He just released a solo album and it is some of the best whiskey-soaked Southern music I’ve ever heard (though I haven’t exactly heard a lot of “whiskey-soaked” anything).  If you like DBT, you’ll like Isbell.  I saw him in Memphis a couple of months back and he rocked.  So come on out and feel free to show me some Music City hospitality by buying me a few Capt and Cokes (well one, I have to drive).  I’ll be the alone guy, hanging out in a corner.  If they have a corner.