Me No Like Hulk
This week went by rather quickly, praise Jesus. What's that, you ask? What are my rock-star husband and my glamorous self doing this weekend?
Well, tonight, we might go see The Hulk. This is the husband's suggestion. I am sort of indifferent to it, except that the previews look sort of goofy to me, and I distinctly remember being terrified of the Hulk when I was about three or four. I would hide behind the living room couch when it came on (I'm not sure why I didn't just change the channel; I suppose I wasn't the brightest kid around). And back then, the effects were all crappy. They just painted the actor green and made him look all veiny. Of course, at that age, I was also very scared of Queen's "Another One Bites the Dust." Whenever I heard that scary bass line, I would crawl into the empty cabinet of my parents' built-in entertainment shelving and cry. (It seems that song was played on the radio more often than you'd think.) Once when I did this, I fell asleep inside the cabinet, and my parents spent two hours frantically looking for me, thinking I had wandered off down the street somewhere. Poor Mom, with her stupid, scaredy-cat weirdo of a daughter.
Anyway, back to the Hulk. I'm sure it won't scare me now, so much as it will annoy me. Who knows?
Saturday (after my Harry Potter book comes!!!) we're going to the Parade of Homes in Gallatin (that's where Kimberly Locke is from, for all you non-Nashvillians. All two of you). Why are we going? I don't know. I don't even really like new houses all that much, unless they're very tastefully built to look like old houses. I do like to look at the decor, and even some of the technology. I don't think we'll be purchasing any of the homes this year, seeing as how they start at $825,000. Why would anyone with $825,000 want to live in Gallatin?
Saturday night, we're going to a baseball game. It seems as though I'm always telling you we're going to a baseball game. Truthfully, we haven't been to one this year at all. I'm not lying about it, pretending we're going to ball games, when really we're selling crack rock to middle-school kids or getting our names tattoed on each other's asses, we just often make plans that we don't keep. We talk a good game when it comes to plans, but we seldom see those plans through.
Sunday will be Harry Potter time, with perhaps some cleaning of the house and some throwing of things into a box marked "Yard Sale!" Have a great weekend, Hulksters!
Look out: he's getting all veiny and green. The hair, though, is excellent: