Tonight is movie night at Becher Haus, which is why the kids are playing upstairs with all the Legos (apparently it's "build Rome in a day" day), and I have been sitting in front of this computer, catching up on my blog reading, trying to condense the day into a few bon mots, while catching up the laundry, because the one t.v. we own is tied up with 'Boris' and "Walk Hard".
In an ideal world, my husband would be satisfied with romantic comedies, shoot-'em-up thrillers, and anything with the name 'Bourne' in the title. He'd happily relinquish his proprietary grip on the netflix account (thanks again to Megan who gifted the man with his first taste of movies by mail), and sit contentedly next to me while we laughed along with the latest 'dark' comedy to come off Showtime and onto DVD. (I loved "Dexter" and the pilot for "Dead Like Me" did not suck, either.)
But, things being what they are, and Herr being who he is, with his ghastly taste in movies, we are all exiled from the living room. Not that it matters, because he has the sound cranked up to it's upper limits, and the truly heinous soundtrack is infiltrating every cranny of the house. I haven't seen any of the actual footage, but that hasn't stopped me from cringing... I'm actually embarrassed. And...and, I totally did not lose my monkey when he talked his seventy-something, uber-Catholic dad into watching "Talladega Nights". This is soooo much worse. I meant to blog about fabric today... the Westminster rep dropped in and I got to see the new Heather Bailey fabrics (ordered them) and the newest Amy Butler fabric (ordered it) line, "Daisy Chain", which was just a line of scrap booking papers, and I may have gotten kind of pissy and had a mini-rant at the monitor about that, and said not-nice things about people who play with paper getting all the really good patterns, but I'd planned on recanting everything...
but for the awful noise coming from the other room. My concentration is shot, and there he sits, all smug and full of himself. This should be a torture-tactic at Club GIT MO. It could be very effective. I'm ready to confess to anything to make the bad noise stop. So, maybe tomorrow we talk about fabrics. For tonight, I need to go wash my ears out with soap. And try and wrestle the remote out of the over-grown delinquent's hands. See you tomorrow? If I haven't snapped and beaten Herr Becher with a lamp, that is. C