So, Mike and I are watching "American Chopper," a really fun show--if you like big burly guys swearing their brains out while creating incredible custom motorcycles--and Mike sees a similarity between himself and the dad on the show.
I'm like, "Yeeaaahhh. Hello!"
I'm writing a story today--for my paying job--and Mike is yelling at Ryan, bellowing God-knows-what from other parts of the house, crabbing LOUDLY about the mess the kids left in the basement. Meanwhile, I'm supposed to create a really good lead that's acceptable to me and two other editors. Mike IS the guy from American Chopper.
Last Friday the kids had off from school. Two of my friends are single working moms, so I had their girls come over, too, while they worked at their jobs, which are NOT at home with a loud-mouthed, swearing husband. Four kids, nine hours to kill. Mike made himself scarce. "I want to subtract the number of kids in this house, not add, Cath. How many times do I have to tell you?"
Since I said I might take the kids to the movies, my friend B. gave me a $25 movie card, even though she only has one child. It was exhorbitant, I refused it, she refused to let me refuse it--you know how it goes. So I took the kids to the movies.
I thought something like the zebra cartoon, "Racing Stripes." But that was out of the theaters. So I thought "Winn-Dixie," a movie based on a sweet children's book. Cara: "I'm seeing that with my class on Thursday."
All of them: "We want to see 'Son of the Mask!'"
I was like, "No way. Forget it. There's no Jim Carrey, not that I liked the first 'Mask.' But this has talking babies AND talking dogs. No. It's not happening."
Them: "We want to see 'Son of the Mask!'"
So, guess what we saw? And guess who laughed her ass off? I never saw the "Jamie Kennedy Experiment," so I didn't know who this guy was. But, very funny. Particularly the part when his wife is leaving for a business trip and he is desperately, quietly telling her as she's getting into the airport cab, "Take the baby. Please. Take the baby. Just....take the baby."
That was legitimate.
One thing we never got around to doing was see "The Gates" in Central Park. We tried, but couldn't get parking. We've NEVER not gotten parking in the city. We've parked for the Thanksgiving Day parade, Christmas week. We even accidentally drove right into the Gay Pride parade and got a street space. But, not for "The Gates."
We tried parking at garages, looked down many, many, many, many, many streets. After an hour and a half, of which Mike did nothing but tell me how a: "The Gates" look like a construction zone; b: he couldn't believe it cost $21 million for orange sheets; c: he didn't know who was crazier--the people who thought "The Gates" were art or us, for looking so long for a space to go see "The Gates," we finally came home.
It was nuts. We coulda, shoulda, woulda taken the ferry and had a shuttle ride to the park. But who knew half the world would come out for this? Now, "The Gates" exhibit is ending on Sunday, and surprise, surprise, Mike won't have anything to do with trying --again-- to see it. But, when I think about it, I can't really picture the American Chopper dad enjoying "The Gates" either.
--Catherine Schetting Salfino