I was in a funk last week – one of my previously discussed “blue periods” – and instead of waiting for me to come around, Bryan took charge and promptly got a babysitter.
Not only that, but he asked someone that we’ve known forever, someone who is spunky and lively and theatrical and who actually has stage combat experience, so she didn’t balk when Tony handed her a sword and called out stances to her. Which is to say – I WANT HER TO LIVE WITH US FOREVER.
Now, granted, a date night is not a guarantee that I’ll “come around” or “snap out of it” or any number of cliches regarding the end of a blue period. But having a couple minutes where I don’t feel like I have to be happy? Dude, that goes a loooooong way.
We went and had sushi and martinis, because although that’s what we ALWAYS do on date night (I wouldn’t have minded some greek fare or something the kids won’t do), there’s just something healing about miso soup. I don’t know. But there is. Also martinis: totally restorative. Hand me a lotus blossom martini and watch me come back to life, like a withering plant that just got some water.
Also, in a funny turn of events, I got to face the tv in the restaurant. There is no offense greater to me than sitting across the table from someone who is obviously more interested in the news ticker of Fox News than what I’m forming my words around. And Bryan is a repeat offender of said offense. But! He couldn’t see the tv; it was directly over his shoulder. I FELT LIKE FATE WAS ON MY SIDE.
Happy and full and slightly tipsy, we decided to go see a movie.
Bryan wanted to see The Avengers. “Why?” I asked. “No one said it was any good or anything.”
Well, FATE WAS ONCE AGAIN MY MISTRESS, and we missed the only showing that would fit into Babysitting Window of Time. But my pick, The Chernobyl Diaries, was very much dead-center of the window. YES. I WON I WON I WON.
I’m waffling between telling you Spoiler Alert! here and just plunging forward feet first because OH Y’ALL THAT MOVIE WAS AWFUL. Truly truly terrible. And I think how terrible it was can be summed up in this: I CANNOT EVEN SPOIL IT, AS THERE WAS NO CLIMAX AND/OR ENDING.
Now, I know some people did what I did initially: recoil in discomfort at the idea of monetizing the tragedy that was Chernobyl. Bryan and I both remember the event and .. yeah, not exactly pleasant memories. And is it okay to base a horror film on something that perhaps defines the word? I don’t know. I DON’T KNOW, SO QUIT ASKING ME.
To their credit, they did not exploit or poke fun at or even really explain at all. They referenced the nuclear plant as almost a distant cousin, twice removed, where you’re not even sure you got her name right when you’re addressing the invite for the family reunion. The number of visible reactors even varied as the movie went on. So worry not; survivors may as well be watching a movie based in Wisconsin, is what I’m saying here.
About thirty minutes into the movie, I settled into the very routine and predictable premise, but hoped that there was still room for redemption. Aaaaaaand about that point, the movie assumes everyone watching it is stupid. Very, very stupid, but perhaps high or drunk so they won’t leave. (We were the latter.)
Bryan and I were so upset at this movie that we were ANGRY when we left. We sat through the credits, disbelieving that 1) we paid for this crap and 2) that was Jessie McCartney?! We wrote no less than four better endings as we stomped out of the theater and directly to Bruster’s for ice cream.
(Yes, tally-makers, I am still dairy-free. BUT IT WAS DATE NIGHT.)
(Also, I totally paid for it later.)
We stayed up late, way late, discussing how incredibly awful the movie was, and researching everything we could about the production aspect of it. We anticipated the MST3K viewing of the movie. We hated it. HATED IT, THREE SNAPS IN A Z FORMATION. I love horror movies like no one else I know – I LOVE them, seriously – and this made me angry. ANGRY.
It was an awesome date.