Most annoying things people can say during a movie:
What happens next?
Does he die? He dies, doesn’t he.
I can’t look. Tell me what happens.
Go back, go back.
That’s not possible. That doesn’t make sense.
What? That’s the end? What the…
My family and I watched an enchanting Western film tonight called 3:10 to Yuma. It’s one of those new movies you see splashed against the windows of Blockbuster with the intention of making you curious. I’m going to ruin it for you. So don’t read this next sentence if you don’t want it ruined. Up, too late. The main good guy dies. The bad guy kills everybody and then goes on a train to get hanged. The son lies weeping over his father's good body. A lot o’ fascinating blood and gore. Hating me now, aren’t you? Eh, that’s okay. You should have watched it sooner.
Now to change the subject drastically. This next matter excites me greatly - even more than the convenient snow blustering outside! I called into Mark Belling’s show today! That’s right. THE most amazing conservative talk show voice. For those of you who know Belling, he chews out his callers whether they’re right or wrong. That makes him fascinating to listen to, but terrifying to talk to. The first time I tried to call in, my hand was shaking so bad, I had to put the phone down. The second, I chickened out last minute, and said, “Wrong Number.” On my third courageous effort, I was told my call was unnecessary, and I hung up the phone with a feeling of relief. It was the fourth attempt at calling in that proved to be my moment of glory. My heart gets excited just thinking about it. Belling was conducting a poll to see how many of his listeners were sick of hearing the rant and rave against McCain. “All right, I’ll take the first 20 callers. I don’t want any opinions. All I want is for the caller to say ’Keep ripping McCain, or shut up and leave him alone.” I was listening, of course, and a feeling of pride rose within me. This was something I could do. My hand rested on the smooth of the phone, and then I picked it up with flourish. The decision was made, and the redial button was punched many times. The screener was very nice. She even asked me what my name was. Kindly, she advised me to keep my radio off and wait my turn. Belling went from caller to caller so quickly I didn’t have time to be nervous. Then it was my turn. “Andrea, keep ripping or shut up?” he asked with zero emotion. I actually laughed, I was so nervous, and tried to make my voice sound important, “Keep ripping.” I hung up quickly, my fingers momentarily riddled with Parkinson’s. The deed was done. I ran into the living room where my family sat mute and admiring the 9 feet of snow, and crowed, “I JUST CALLED INTO MARK BELLING!” Then, of course, the radio got turned up to that glorious top notch, (because radio has that great delay thing) and my family heard my infamous voice. “Keep ripping.” The words echoed over and over again in my ears. I sat in a comfortable chair amid praise and admiration, and hoped I had said the right thing. I should have said, ‘Keep ripping, Mark!’, instead of just a dull ‘Keep ripping’. That would have made it more personal. He might have remembered me, then. But then again, I might have gotten all mixed up if I had too much to say. I might have said, “Keep Mark ripping.” Or “Mark Keep Ripping.” Or even worse, “ Ripping Keep Mark.” There - I’ve run out of variations. But how exciting to have a voice! I will speak more of this later, though. There is a bed hour around my home.
p.s. hint about my unflailing political position: GO ROMNEY!
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