All I want for Christmas is...

All I want for Christmas is for my parents to have something faster than a 56K DIAL UP MODEM. Jesus Christ. I mean, really, JESUS CHRIST. I think carrier pigeons would be faster than this. A decent cuppa joe would also be rather nice, right about now. So says the funk soul brother.

My lovely Christmas of time spent with the family eating too much food and opening too many presents was brought to an abrupt halt when, in an attempt to get the hell out of the house after being cooped up there for four days straight once the parents retired to watch "Fahrenheit"* that evening, I tried to catch Spanglish. The one theater playing the movie after 7:30 but before 10:30 was fairly close by so I took a little drive** only to find out that the theater playing Spanglish didn't have heat. Had I been in Oakland I would've gone straight in. However, that night in P.G. County it was approximately negative 25 degrees... OK maybe it was 35 degrees but let's face it, either one to me is REALLY FREAKIN' cold. So I stomped back to the car (literally - isn't it fun to be a 2-year old sometimes?!) and drove back to my parents' abode where I stood in front of their movie collection trying to decide between Space Cowboys and every single other Clint Eastwood movie ever made. Space Cowboys... Tommy Lee Jones, how bad could it be?

Pretty bad, is how bad. I'm not sure who recently told Clint Eastwood that it would be a good idea for him to act again (I know he used to be able to) but he was absolutely positively TERRIBLE in that movie. Donald Sutherland as the creepy old guy after all the young chicks was really, really disturbing, and not in a remotely amusing way. And that dude from the Rockford Files needs to hang it up. If you were an old guy on TV when I was 6, it's probably about that time.

I didn't finish it, but about halfway through, right before I said "the hell with this" and went to bed, I realized that I had a little crush on Mr. Jones. What's not to like? He's quirky and cynical and witty, but not in a Billy Bob Thornton creepy kind of way. And of course, in an "admire from afar" kind of way, seeing as how he could be my grandfather. I really am just kidding about that plan I have to marry an old guy and inherit his riches when he dies shortly after the wedding. Really I am. Ahem.

(I meant to post this on Christmas Day but I didn't have the TIME TO WAIT FOR THE SITE TO LOAD. Luckily I can just change the date on this post. Ha! Fooled ya.)

________________
* My father seems to be physically incapable of calling a film by its full title. This past week I heard references to the aforementioned "Fahrenheit," as well as "Miracle" [on 34th Street], "Bowling" [for Columbine] and "Grinch." He did get "School of Rock" out in its entirety, which pleased me greatly.

Incidentally, I was able to avoid all political talk by immediately changing the subject when my brother referred to "Fahrenheit" as "propaganda." I couldn't really deny his statement but as far as how I could say the same about Rush and Bill and Fox News... well, I just didn't go there. But I did read more Jon Stewart & co. later to make myself feel better.

** Addendum to runners up below - and the only other thing besides movie theaters open on Christmas Day in suburban Maryland, is the drive-through liquor store. Go figure.