hey howdy hey

11-26-99

No entry for Thursday. None for Thursday. Deal.

The 27 oz. margarita was too much for me and my internal spell-checker. Again—deal.

We went to see Toy Story 2 this evening. Wheil we stood in line, John downed his entire tub o' pop and sipped a little of mine. So the post-movie drive home went a little like this:

John: Woe! WOE is me! Oh, God!

Betsy: Are you hungry?

John: Where are we eating?

Betsy: Taco Bell?

John: Where's the nearest one?

Betsy: (begin cackling)

John: We're stopping at Enmark!

Betsy: There's a (hee hee haaaaaaaa) Circle K right up here. (haaaaa haa haa!)

John: Screw Enmark, we're going to Circle K.

When we pulled into the Circle K parking lot, I was laughing like crazy. I wasn't even drunk yet.

Betsy: Hey! You want some coffee?

John got out of the car and stumbled, cross-kneed, toward the door of the gas station. I sat in the car laughing like a maniac. I laughed even harder when people came out of the store and stared at me: the crazy chick sitting in the car alone, laughing at nothing.

Within a minute, John came back out. Doh.

John: Enmark, Enmark, Enmark....

Betsy: (haa haa haa haaaaaaaaaaaa....)

We barely made it to the next gas station before John had an accident. I giggled uncontrollably for most of the drive home. Just before we got there, we decided to go to the Mexican restaurant just up from our house. They were having margarita specials. The rest is history.

There was one of those old sticker machines in the front of the restaurant, the kind they used to have at the grocery/department/everything store. The kind that had Madonna and Kiss and pro wrestling stickers that look SO cool on a seventh grader's notebook cover. While John paid for dinner, I plugged my quarters into the machine and was rewarded with a fat sticker featuring a Gen X-looking alien poking his head out of an eight ball.

And as we tooled home, I shouted "Stop at the stop sign!" "Uh, okay," John replied. When he slowed at the corner, I hopped out of the car and stuck the sticker on the stop sign. I am such a drunken vandal.

The movie was good! That's why I was laughing at first, before the gigantic margarita. At the very end is that beautiful moment when the cowgirl saves the day (albeit the minor day, after the REAL day was saved by the cowBOY,) and Buzz Lightyear's wings sproing up like a, well, you know. It's like the writers were talking to all the parents out there: "You made it to the end of this movie and you haven't killed your spawn! Here's your prize!" Like the sticker from the machine. Like the gumball with "you win!" printed on it. Hey howdy hey, you're the fucking shit.

Going to bed now. Happy?