Help Me Obi-ONE Kenobi!

My kids can’t wait for the Star Wars sequel that comes out in December.  Landon is watching all the movies, Gracie is acquiring every Star Wars tee shirt I’ll let her buy, and I’m attempting to explain to them how big of a deal Star Wars was when I was a kid.  I don’t think they’ll ever truly get how huge it was, still is.  Maybe at the premiere, and we will go to the midnight showing, they will finally see how much it means to so many people.

E just got home from a business trip and is working from home for the rest of the afternoon.  Landon is here in the living room with me watching The Attack Of The Clones.  I don’t really like the prequels.  Anakin is a little bitch, in my opinion, and really gets on my nerves.

Anyway, this just actually happened and I thought you good people should know.

Movie (Padmé to Anakin):  I brought you some food.  Are you hungry?

Me (silently mouthing to E behind Landon’s back):  FOR PUSSY!

Movie (Anakin to Padmé):  I don’t even know what he said.  He was whining like a bitch again over not saving his Mom.

Me to Landon:  Does Anakin whine through all the prequels?  

Landon:  No.  He stops at the end of the last one.

Me:  Only because he turned to the dark side.  I like him better evil.  He didn’t whine so much. 

Landon:  I wish Obi-1 would have turned evil and not Anakin.

Me:  It’s Obi-WAN.  Not the number 1. 

E (laughing):  It’s Obi-ONE.

Me:  No, it’s Obi-WAN.

E (still laughing disturbingly loudly):  What, is he Mexican?  “Si, may the force be weeth you” (said in a really pretty good Mexican accent, I must admit)

Me:  No, not like J-U-A-N.  Like W-A-N.  More like Chinese.  And you just sounded like Cheech and Chong, by the way.

Landon (now laughing):  Dad’s right and so am I.

I sat in stunned silence, pondering how I could have been wrong all these years.  So wrong.  Over Star Wars, one of the most watched movie series of my entire childhood and teenage years.  What kind of person am I?!

Me (aloud):  I’ve been wrong all these years?


Me:  I’m Googling it!

E and I type furiously at the same time.


E (almost the exact same time I say the above):  It IS Obi-WAN.  You’re right!

Obi-WAN, fuckers.  It’s Obi-WAN.  If any of you need a knowledgeable friend to go to the Star Wars sequel with you in December, I’m the one to call.  Leave E’s and Landon’s asses at home.

There were so many titles for this blog I wanted to use.  Here were the options.

This Will Be A Day Long Remembered

Now I Am The Master

The Force is NOT With You

The Force Is Weak In This One

Into The Garbage Chute, Fly Boy!

He Is NOT The Brains, Sweetheart

Aren’t You A Little Stupid For A Stormtrooper?

Let The Wookie Win

“Let The Wookie Win” was my favorite just because that’s one of my favorite scenes but it didn’t fit here. E and Landon still have six more months to come up with something so I can use that title.  Don’t give up hope.

Before you give me a hard time for boasting, E still reminds me to this day of stupid things I said two whole decades ago.  And if he had been right about this one, I would have been hearing about it on my deathbed.  I’ve offered E the chance to write a rebuttal with all the stupid shit I’ve said over the years.  Stay tuned to see if he’ll do it.  Maybe Obi-ONE can help him.

Openly Hostile: Fear Me, I Am Dryer Lint Woman!


So we saw Spider-Man 2 tonight.  We don’t usually go to a lot of movies but the summer months always get us because we love super hero movies and summer is where super hero movies like to hang out.

Full disclosure:  I am not a comic book reader.  I’m strictly a superhero movie fangirl.  I’ll give you that right up front.  But that’s about to fucking change.  Okay, no it won’t.  I don’t have time to read actual comic books.  I’m not a teenage boy who has nothing better to do than apply zit cream to my ball sack and collect the last 50 years of The Amazing Spider-Man but I will at least google the shit out of the original comic book plots before I see the movies based on them from now on.

For the record, I like Andrew Garfield way better than Tobey Maguire as Spider-Man.  I get that Spider-Man is dorky and skinny and not such a hot catch on the surface but I was rooting for Doc Ock’s bowl haircut to take him out by the end of Spider-Man 2.  Andrew Garfield has that way awkward thing nailed while actually being physically attractive.

I hated Kirsten Dunst as Mary Jane Watson.  You know those women who make you very deeply desire to, like, gauge their eyeballs out with a spoon as soon as you meet them?  No?  It’s just me?  Okay, we’ll move on.

I love Emma Stone as Gwen Stacy.  I love the actor and the character.  Strong, super smart, not whiny and she doesn’t make me want to grab the nearest spoon.  It’s a win for everybody.  I feel like Emma Stone/Gwen Stacy is someone I could be besties with.  We’d swap catty and intelligent texts with each other throughout the day, comment on each other’s Facebook statuses every single damned time, drink wine straight from the bottle with each other and call each other “pirate hooker” with the exact amount of love and respect you only reserve for pirate hookers.

But I won’t get that chance because Gwen Stacy died.  The Amazing Spider-Man was not amazing and he could not save her.  I sat through almost 2 hours, 20 minutes of awkward yet adorable Spidey, unable to tell the girl he loves that he loves her, only to tell her near the end, right before he didn’t save her.  Ain’t that a bitch?  I googled Gwen Stacy’s comic book back story as soon as we got home.  Marc Webb, the director of The Amazing Spider-Man 2, wasn’t just fucking with me.  Gwen Stacy dies.

We sat all the way through the end credits, just in case there were any “extras” as so often is the case with Marvel films.  As the credits started rolling, I looked over at E and said “The only thing that can redeem this movie is if Thor is in the end credits naked”.  Thor was not in the end credits nor was his naked ass, which just pissed me off even more.

E had to go to the bathroom as we were exiting the theater and as I waited with the kids, I just got angrier.  I zipped up my jacket so no one could see my Spider-Man tee shirt.  He doesn’t deserve space on my breasts anymore.  My breasts are ashamed of him.  We were walking to the car and E asked if I was still upset over the ending and I said “I am openly hostile”, in a sheer brilliant nailing of the exact emotion I was feeling at the time and still am feeling at almost 4 in the morning.

The exact shirt I wore to watch the movie.  And yeah, I'm mad.

The exact shirt I wore to watch the movie. And yeah, I’m mad.

Maybe I’m on super hero movie overload because besides being pissed off at Spider-Man tonight, I have a whole slew of other issues with the super hero genre that this movie has opened up for me.

Let’s start with the villains.  They seem to usually become villains while doing their regular old day jobs.  Max Dillon became “Electro” in the movie tonight because he was doing his job as an electrical engineer and fell into a tank of electric eels.  Bruce Banner became “The Hulk” after the gamma bomb he invented as a physicist goes off.  Dr. Victor Fries becomes “Mr. Freeze” due to his career as a – guess what?! – cryogenics genius!

Those are just a few examples that I could name.  This revelation has me extremely worried over the direct correlation between potential Super Villain identities and job titles.  I mean, I’m a stay at home Mom.  I’m fucked.  How boring is my super villain going to be?  I’m one horrific laundry accident away from becoming Dryer Lint Woman.  At least Wonder Woman had the Lasso of Truth.  What am I going to use as my weapon of fear?  Static cling?  Mismatched socks?

Also, can we just please, from now on, leave the super hero cootchie alone?  Aren’t super hero’s lives stressful enough, with all the constant saving of humanity, without killing off their significant others?  Do we really want to see the aftermath of a masturbatory super hero?  If you emphatically shook your head “yes” after that question, you are a sick son of a bitch.  I like it.  Regardless, can we agree on this one?  Leave their pieces alone.

That’s all I’ve got tonight.  I’m taking my openly hostile ass to bed now.  R.I.P. Gwen Stacy.  And fuck you, Stan Lee, you misleading, gentle-grandpa-looking, bestie killing bastard.