The Dead Rabbits vs. the Natives

While in marriage counseling this week (Yup, still going. Go Team Mason!) we touched on a lot of relevant things.  How my work defines me, my need for validation and equality despite a continuous paycheck and a host of other issues that can cause marital strife when not addressed properly.  Somewhere in this the subject of our kids came up.  Our counselor made this observation-

"Well, at this point they have formed sort of a gang."  I glanced at H and nervously stated, "Great. We've got a roaming gang in our house.  All the time. Our house if Five Points. "  A pack of marauders.  The kids are close in age and work together to achieve whatever it is they want around the house.  Now that The Fifth Element is mobile it is even worse.  "They are a gang!", we both exclaimed!  Our mouths hanging open. 

Holy Hell. 

Then it hit me.  It's like the Gangs of New York in our house on an almost daily basis.  TD, the first born, is the Nativist and The Comedian is like a pack of Dead Rabbits.  The Fifth Element is like the bizarre scene at the end where an elephant just walks into the room wreaking havoc throughout the town square.  While they may work together occasionally for the good of the cause these kids war with each other daily and what is left is a path of destruction and mayhem miles wide. 

Go Team Mason!

Give it Up for Rhode Islander, Viola Davis & The Help

Kathryn Stockett, Emma Stone, Viola Davis

Browsing my Entertainment Weekly and having just seen an advanced screening of the movie, The Help I read that actress, Viola Davis is from Central Falls, Rhode Island.

Really?! She grew up in Narragansett and Central Falls? She went to RIC!

I wonder if she longs for clamcakes like I do and thinks of crisp, clean lemony Del's drinks on long summer days. Does she crave Newport Creamery grilled cheese sandwiches? Does she actually know what Jai Alai is and doesn't just think it is some now defunct client from Mad Men? I bet she calls her turn signals directionals too.

I already loved this woman for her roles in Doubt, Syriana, Without a Trace, Traveler, and State of Play. Now, I like her even more. Her portrayal of Abileen was spot on in The Help.

I'm pleased to say that the movie follows the book rather closely too. That doesn't happen very often in films. You will laugh out loud. You will sit in a theater full of sniffling, tears falling and nose blowing and probably applaud at the end. It is a truly heartfelt, lovely film that I would gladly see again.

Road Trippin'

It's Friday and while I'm flummoxed by the whole Japanese rent-a-cat trend my mind is also wandering in the planning direction. My anal retentive list mania is peaking as I get ready for my first solo road trip with two kids. We leave next week and I think I have four separate lists going already. I'm OCD planner.

My parents think I have a death wish. My father asked me what I was trying to prove. Only a nutball would want to drive for eight hours with two small kids. I keep telling TD this will be some grand adventure. A grand adventure that will involve not kicking the back of the car seat, any yelling in the car and many, many snacks and DVDs. She thinks it sounds like quite the kick ass time.

Any advice about taking a trip like this with wee ones is appreciated. And no, Valium is not a valid suggestion. Though it does sound heavenly.

It's 385 miles to Connecticut, we got a full tank of gas, a full box of bunny crackers, it will be dark, and we'll be wearing pajamas. Hit it.

Overheards- The Gross Out Edition

H and I were having a bit of a chat last night and I asked him what some line was from the film 'In Bruges' that I thought was so funny. He recited it and I made the comment that, "Yeah, that one guy in it just never meets a good end in any movie he's in. I mean he falls from the tower and lands with a splat and then there's 'Gangs of New York' where he just gets brained in the barber shop with his own club. Sick!"

H: Thanks for all that nice mental imagery before I go to bed and head off to dreamland. Why don't you call me tomorrow at lunch time and tell me all about your first period. How's that?

Me: Oh. Sorry. Yeah, that type of stuff just doesn't bother me, does it? Yet, I was strangely disgusted by Krusty the Clown going into the wood chipper on The Simpson's today. Weird.