Confessions of a Heckler

I admit it, I heckle. I don't heckle live performers; I've been one, so I understand how painful that can be. Movies, though, I consider to be fair game.

I don't go to see movies in the theater anymore, because I'm too polite. The last movie I saw, before Twilight came out this year, was Star Wars: Episode Three: The Film That Ruined It All. I am far too polite to heckle out loud in a public theater, and I suffered severe neck spasms and abdominal cramps from holding it all in.


And, if you're curious, no I didn't heckle Twilight. Like every devoted fan, I will wait until I get my DVD, then heckle the fire out of it at home. Rosalie alone will get three viewings, I'm sure.

My heckling started at a very young age. I remember heckling The Ten Commandments as a small child. This film is a heckler's dream. I'm surprised any scenery survived the chewing. In my imagination, the director only gave one note, and he gave it to every actor and extra: "Bigger!" You know it's a wonderfully heckl-able movie when Edward G. Robinson's performance is the understated one.

From there, I continued to heckle, on and off, into my teens. It was in my twenties, however, that my heckling became a problem. Titanic, to my surprise, was not considered a comedy by most viewers. I laughed out loud at this part:


Rose: Jack? There's a boat! Jack! Jack! (continues until she finally realizes that he's dead.)
Jack: (icy nostrils still)
Rose: (Disengages her hand from his with the loudest movie-thunk ever) I'll never let go, Jack!
Deb: You just let go! What are you saying?
Jack: Glub glub sink
Deb: Ha ha ha hee hee ha ha


This earned me the Icy Death Stare from the legions of 17-year-old girls who were weeping into their Leonardo DiCaprio t-shirts. You'd think I would learn.


Enter Independence Day. This film is now banned from our house, by Sven, who can't stand my heckling. I feel very sorry about this, as it was a film he enjoyed, I believe. However, this movie infuriates me. I won't go into too much detail, but I think there is a very strong anti-female sentiment running throughout the movie. Sven finds it silly, but I still insist that there is something very Georgia O'Keefe going on with those alien space lasers, if you get my drift.


The one that could really get me in trouble, though, is The Lord Of the Rings: It Never Ends, which I believe you all know as Return of the King. Don't misunderstand me; I enjoyed the first sixteen hours of this movie. The last forty-eight, though, really wore on me. (Sorry, Mom.) I have yet to make it through the entire thing awake. I admit, during the part where Sam dramatically lifts Frodo and, feet quivering, storms up the side of Mount Krumpet to take all of the presents back to Whoville, I'm crying along with the rest of you. My heckling in this film is very specific: Orlando Bloom.

I love Orlando Bloom in these movies. I love "pretty" men, and it don't get no prettier than Orlando Bloom in a long blond wig and blue contacts. My problem is, by the third movie, Orlando does two things:

• Stares broodingly into the distance, and
• Makes prophetic statements.

At some point during hour 17 of the movie, a random thought popped into my head: He's not staring broodingly into the distance to sharpen a vision of the future; he's constipated. Since that time, every line he says is followed, in our house, by the phrase, "And still I cannot poop." So Legolas sounds like this:

Legolas: There is a ring around the moon...all men and elves move silently, and still I cannot poop.

We don't watch that one much anymore, either.

I'm not proud of this. I know it's immature and bad. Just don't ask me to stop...my back can't take it. What I can do is promise you that I will confine my heckling to my own home. It's the best I can do. Now, you promise me something.

Never let go.

Thunk.

Deb Battles the Universe: An Update

I have made previous mention of my battle with the Anti-Deb Forces in the Universe (ADFITU) regarding my New Year's resolutions. Although it has not yet been a full month, I must write to tell you all how the ADFITU have stepped up their campaign to get me. (When we last kept score, it was tied at 2-2.)


A few months ago, I witnessed a car accident. I wrote a witness report, mostly because the cars crashed directly in front of my car, and I couldn't move, anyway. I had forgotten all about it, until I received, via certified mail:


A subpoena. Really. I've been subpoenaed to testify, in front of a jury, about this little fender-bender that happened several months ago. Score: ADFITU 3, Deb 2.


It's not as if I really mind testifying, it just seems so silly. It really was quite a minor accident, both cars drove away on their own, and no one was hurt. I have no idea why anyone is taking this little matter to trial. The most logical conclusion I can come to is the ADFITU are out to get me. Well played.

Then, two days ago, my beloved Macbook refused to start. When I say "beloved," I mean it. My feelings for this computer border on the inappropriate. Anyway, when I try to start it up, I get the grey screen with the apple, it thinks for about two minutes, then it shuts down. I have nothing backed up, of course, because my computer isn't five months old yet, and I was going to get around to it. Silly me! I'll be taking it in this weekend, but I suspect that my $300 worth of music from iTunes and the 50,000 words worth of novel I had written will be gone. ADFITU 4, Deb 2

However, perhaps I can rescue a silver lining from this particular cloud? Maybe I can learn some lessons from this. I had, perhaps, become too dependent on my computer, often staying up late at night to write, missing sleep that I desperately need. I had reached a sticking place in my novel; perhaps losing all the work I had done is what I needed. I can go back and start over, keeping the things I like, but allowing the characters to take a new direction...I'll give myself half a point. ADFITU 4, Deb 2.5.

Even the subpoena can be a good thing. I'll get to miss work and not get docked for it. ADFITU 4, Deb 3.5.

What the ADFITU didn't anticipate was my exciting nomination to a very exclusive club: the North American Fishing Club. These people have obviously been watching me for years, as shown by this paragraph:



"Well, it's no secret among your friends and family that you are an outstanding fisherman. As someone who is passionately devoted to your pastime, you're exactly the kind of person our club is looking for."



It goes on to say things like, "Only serious anglers are nominated." Also, "It's not for fair weather fisherman." I certainly am not one of those.



Take that, ADFITU! Someone obviously appreciates me! What makes this letter all the more impressive is that, technically speaking, I'm not really a fisherman, in that I'm female and don't fish at all, but that is obviously beside the point. Having (of course) accepted membership in this club, I have brought the score between myself and the ADFITU to 4-4.5. I feel much, much better.

Chapped II: The Peeling

My lips have recovered from their abnormal bout of chappedness, but here, for you, is a rundown of all of the products I tried in my attempt to not only regain my former lips, but perhaps improve them, making them more like this:

And less like this:

1. Vaseline. Many of you recommended the vaseline method, which seems to be as follows:

A. Purchase a giant tub of Vaseline

B. Smear

C. Repeat

This had somewhat mixed results; I decided to look further.

2. Neutrogena Intense Overnight Lip Repair. This is a tiny pot of extremely dense lip moisturizers that caused all of my chapped skin to become very moist and easy to peel off. The new lips thus revealed are now pretty close to normal.

3. Lip Venom. This isn't for chapping, it's for making your lips puffy and "bee-stung". I have very small, pale lips, and am always looking for a non-surgical way to make them stand out a bit more from the rest of my face. Lip Venom is extremely thick, and sits on the lips for a long time. It tastes of cinnamon and tingles a whole lot, and grows very sticky after a while. Sadly, I didn't notice any swelling, but Sven's lips were much pinker after he kissed me.

4. Another "natural" lip plumper that is so repulsive I won't even mention it. Suffice to say, it was even stickier and smelled like feet.

5. Nivea Lip Moisturizer. I wanted to try this one because in the commercial, the woman who wears it gets to make out with a handsome stranger while cool hipster music plays in the background. That didn't happen for me, so I am now considering a lawsuit against Nivea and the advertising agency responsible.

6. The Walgreen's Pharmacy Grab Bag. This is what I get when I ask Sven to pick me up "something for" any condition I have. He invariably returns home with anywhere from three to eighteen products that all come reasonably close to treating the condition I requested. Taking his philosophy in mind, I picked out several random tubes at Walgreens and smeared them on my lips in random order. Several smelled good.

So, for the lip update: Condition pale and thin...in other words, back to normal.

PS: Kristina, I'm thinking of you and your family.