Totally unrealistic film

I just saw "Lars and the Real Girl". (Darn, why can't I italicize on a Mac?) I have some issues with the film.

SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT!

So at the end, when Lars decides that Bianca has died, the church congregation graciously holds a funeral for her. While this is very nice and all (and how did Lars manage to avoid any major ass-kicking that ignorant-small-town-men always seem to do in movies taking place in Middle America?), who the HELL would have paid for a sex doll's casket and funeral and burial?! Coffins are, like, really expensive! And nobody in that town appeared to be particularly rich, certainly not Gus and Karin who were expecting a child...

I must give credit to the person who decided that (1) there was no birthing scene even though Karin was pregnant during the entire film and that (2) nobody suggested that Gus and Karin name their child (who was probably going to be a daughter since they had a "pink room") after Bianca, the anatomically correct sex doll that stole the community's heart.

But yeah. Coffins are expensive. (Gravestones, too.)

Happy birthday!

My dad would've turned 55 today. I sort of want to use that excuse to buy Fudgie the Whale (which was totally my obsession, pre-Office shout-out) and eat the whole thing tonight... but I'm being good and attempting to live healthily so that I can outlive the Wicked Stepmother.

Happy birthday, Dad!

I got a free manicure on Saturday

Oh yeah. So my good college friend Y was in town this weekend. I hadn't seen her since the very end of 2004, so it's been nearly three years, which is a shame since we were close. We hadn't kept in regular touch, but luckily, things were exactly as they were since we'd last seen each other. (Don't you love it when that happens?)

Y and I had a few minutes to ourselves since Jane (yes, that Jane) was running late, so we were catching up. Of course, the inevitable question ("So... where are you working now?") came up, and I had quite a bit to explain. Y was horrified and sad that I didn't call her to tell her ("I would've sent you tickets to come see me!"). Then Jane arrives and we're our morbid selves and cracking completely inappropriate jokes (hm, we should probably take our audience into account), and Y starts to tear. Oops. So she insisted on treating me to a manicure. And cheesecake.

Living parents, love. Lovely painted fingernails, ten. Woo!

My mommy died a decade ago

28 September 1997. That was fast.

On the plus side, you can use this (or any other "anniversary"... if that's the appropriate word) to your advantage when somebody thinks you're being a jerk. For instance, on Friday, my sister was annoyed at me. I replied, "Sorry. I'm just being mean because my mommy died a decade ago."

Her response?

One are-you-fucking-kidding-me sideways glance and a completely incredulous and accurate "That's not true!"

Maybe I should've used that on a non-sibling, I muse.

Dead daddy discount

My sister's tooth filling (from like ten years ago) just fell out a few days ago. She had an appointment with our dentist (this guy from church who knew our dad) this morning, and he charged her $150 to replace the whole thing. He obviously gave her a serious discount.

My sister used to work for a dentist. He charged $175 per CLEANING.

Sometimes, it pays (or DOESN'T pay... haha!) to have a dead daddy.

Welcome!

My friend (and old college roommate) Jane's father died this past Tuesday (I was going to write "passed away" but thought better of it), thanks to the ubiquitous (and apparently inevitable) thing called Cancer. While this is very sad news for Jane and her family, this is quite exciting for the nascent (haha) Dead Parents Club.

Membership to the Dead Parents Club is pretty simple. Got a dead parent? You're accepted. Got two dead parents? Even better!