An X-Tremely Stupid Title

Well will you look at that! Here it is Sunday and I’M UPDATING!!! Rejoice. Throw a party. Invite me.

In any case, it really hasn’t been that long since I updated (since my last update was on Tuesday night), so you’ll probably get an update that isn’t a tome for once (special thanks to David for originally calling my posts “tomes”). Enjoy it. Revel in it. Because if it’s not that long, you don’t have any excuse for not reading it. Gwa-ha-ha-ha-ha.

Anyway, I guess I should get started. Wednesday is the first day that has yet to be chronicled here. Not a whole lot happened, really . . . at least not that I can remember. There was a rehearsal, I know, at night, but I think that was it. Altogether a good day, as memory serves.

For the rehearsal, we choreographed (well, Dustin choreographed, we learned) The Mob Song, which will be really cool. And it’s actually not terribly hard . . . except for one part that’s quite fast. But it’s cool.

The most interesting thing at rehearsal was during the break, when I went over and sat up against the wall (or a table laid against the wall, actually). Sarah came over and plopped down next to me to write down the choreography (I was too lazy to do so). Lucas decided to join us, so he made a big show of running up and stopping right before hitting me.

In the end, he actually came really close to hitting me because he tried to stop too quickly, and almost plunged head-first into me. Thankfully, however, he caught himself. Anyway, he sat down next to me and we started talking. He began to sing the song, but he changed the words to: “Grab your swords, grab your knives, we’ll kill Dustin and . . . his . . . wives?”

This, of course, got us onto the topic of King Solomon. Go to my Xanga if you want to hear his musings.

The next day was Thursday. Oh, accursed Thursday. This was not such a good day. School and class happened, and then Mom decided that we should go shopping for a sportcoat (for the end of year banquet at Biola on Friday). Yippee.

But it gets better. We went to Gottschalk’s at got me shoes and socks (the shoes are niiiiice), and then charged on over to the coats, tasting the sweet flavor of victory. But it was not to be. We discovered fairly quickly that my coat size is 40 Long, and we looked at every single coat they had (even the hideous, greenish-brown ones), and there was not one 40 Long. We asked Mr. Help Person, and he said, “We don’t have any 40 Longs.”

So we heaved a bitter sigh and left. Our next stop was Mervyn’s. We searched high, we searched low, we searched side to side, but we could not for the life of us find any coats. So we asked Mrs. Help Person, and she said, “We don’t carry coats or suits.” We heaved a bitterer sigh and left.

Next stop: The Inland Center Mall. Specifically Macy’s. We went in, we looked around, we found the coats. We searched and searched, and all hope had begun to fade — then we saw it. A tag on a coat that said “40L.” The coat was navy blue and quite nice. Our hearts pounding, we hurried over, took it off the rack, and I tried it on. It fit.

We began to rejoice. Our efforts had not been in vain. Then the fateful moment came . . . the moment when mom looked at the price tag. “$495,” it said. The death knell of our dreams sounded. There was no way mom was going to pay 500 bucks for a coat I’ll probably wear a grand total of once and then outgrow it.

We heaved the bitterest sigh yet and went to Sears. Nada. In her despair, mom said, “Let’s go get a drink.” So we went to the food court and did just that. Then Mom’s cell phone rang. It was Bev . . . Uncle Ted had arrived from Indiana, and they were at Starbucks. Mom decided that her and I should leave the mall and go home, so we began to walk back to Macy’s (where we were parked) while she talked on the phone. Eventually, as we stood at the place in Macy’s where the path branches off into like six different ones, Mom hung up.

Then began the great door fiasco. “Which way did we come in?” Mom said. “This way, I think,” came my reply. “No, it wasn’t that way,” she said. “I think it was over here.” “But I don’t remember coming in at the corner of the building,” said I. “Well maybe it was this one,” said she.

So we went out that door, and quickly concluded that no, this was not the door we’d come in by. We went back into Macy’s, and looked around, and then Mom proclaimed, “I remember! It was this way!” We went out that door, and sure enough, there was our car.

I looked back at the door and realized something. “That was the door I originally said we came in,” I said. We heaved yet another bitter sigh and went back to Redlands.

We went to Starbucks and met up with Uncle Ted and Bev and hung out with them for a while. Uncle Ted told us horror stories about his secretary (Carl Jung apparently underwent a sex change at some point in his life and changed his name to Carol Fung).

Then we went home and Mom took my measurements and decided she’d order a coat from Land’s End online. Finally, it seemed, the answer had come to us.

But things are not always what they seem. Land’s End, it turns out, does not have Long sizes. We heaved ANOTHER bitter sigh and gave up for the day.

After that things started to look up, and when Dad came home from work we went to Red Robin and met up with Ted and Bev for dinner. It’s gonna be fun having a Red Robin just down the street. If any of you have never been to Red Robin, you’re terribly deprived and must go (we had one in Colorado, and we used to eat there all the time).

Anyway, after that we came home and basically did nothing and went to bed. Friday dawned, a bright new day with bright new promise.

And a movie coming out. This movie was entitled X-Men: The Last Stand, and it starred such people as Hugh Jackman and Ian McKellan and John Nowa— er, Patrick Stewart. But you all knew that.

Sarah had invited me to join her, David, Dr. Mr., and Seth to go see it, so I did. After dance, David took us to Seth’s, where we acquired him, then to their house, where Dr. Mr. took over control of the operation.

Seth gave Sarah a downloaded copy of FMA 8, and throughout the car drive she made many whimpers and groans while reading it. It was quite frightening.

Eventually we got to the Krik, and they told us we couldn’t go in yet (the show was at 1:00), but that there was no one ahead of us in line. As it was 12:08 by my watch, I couldn’t believe either of those things.

But they were both true. So we stood in line for a while, having pointless discussions and listening to various excerpts from The Lexicon of Stupidity. We noticed a guy carrying The Ultimate Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, a VERY nice edition. “It looks like a Bible,” Sarah said. “Well, to some people,” I replied. “To totally crazy people . . . unlike me . . . because I don’t have a towel in my backpack, noo . . .”

Then they let us in, and discussion turned to where we should sit. In the end we let Dr. Mr. decide, and he picked seats right around the center of the theater. Several interesting discussions were brought on by the various advertisements on the screen.

Then finally the trailers started. Nothing that really caught my eye except Ghost Rider, and that not because I necessarily want to see it. That one just caught my eye because Nicholas Cage is the title character, and he REALLY doesn’t strike me as a zombie-type.

Then the movie itself finally started. On the whole I liked it a lot, and I’d give it a fairly large thumbs up. The acting was pretty much all very good (Ian McKellan rocks my world), the special effects were quite good, etc. etc.

My biggest problem was actually the new main-ish character, Beast. I didn’t like him at all, and when he fought I thought, “If there was a battle on Sesame Street, this is what it would look like.” My other big problem was the new character Angel, who was utterly pointless. They had a whole subplot with him, but they condensed it to about ten minutes, and his interaction with the overall plot was very nearly zero and he could’ve been replaced easily by already existent characters or even non-characters. Sarah tells me his point was as a symbol, but whatever.

But the movie really was very good, and a lot of fun to see. I recommend it. But don’t believe the title. I don’t believe for a second that this is truly the last stand, and the ending supports my view. (Oh, another thing . . . if you go see it, STAY UNTIL THE CREDITS ARE OVER. THE MOVIE ISN’T OVER YET.)

So yeah, that was basically that. Then I came home and schooled for a while, then went to fencing, then came home and ate pizza and watched Moonlighting.

On Saturday, I managed to waste pretty much the entire day, although I did go to a Bible study at Lifehouse at noon, which was cool.

Then today we had church as usual, and then Rachel invited me to go see Heidi with her. I had no particular desire to see the show again, but I figured what the heck, it’ll be fun anyway to go with Rachel. So I did, and so it was.

The cast party was also today, and Rachel told me that I should go, but I declined. So I hung around for a while with Rachel and other peoples, and then Uncle Ted took me home, and I updated my blog.

And that, as the bard really wouldn’t tell us, is the rub.

Comments;

AJ: 1: I’m doing Scrooge, and yes, I’m happy about the other two (although I won’t be doing them). Ruth . . . well, they have to have a Biblical musical every season . . . and actually they have two, so who knows . . .
2: Well, for one thing, 0 is a value that something can be more than. 4 is more than 0. So if I had a female-ness of 0, and a girl had a female-ness of 4, that girl would be more female than me. So your comment isn’t mathematically correct in its implications. But yes, I am somewhat female . . . haven’t you heard?
3: I didn’t mean ALWAYS. Just USUALLY. And I was hoping for some unusuality with War of the Worlds.

Stephen: “Stem and leaf plots • Measures of central tendency • The normal curve • Standard deviation.” That’s what the chapter’s thrilling title is.

Rae: Welcome back! And the difference between this and homework (hopefully besides the entertainment factor) is that nobody is making you read this . . . and as we all know, it’s only work if someone makes you do it. And I don’t expect to be John Smith, no . . . I’d imagine someone a bit more John Smith-y in appearance and age will get that part . . .

(I guess this was pretty long after all, huh?)