Tuesday, January 4, 2011

truly gritty in sam and libby shoe boots

On New Years Eve 2011, some weird stuff was going in the South. Birds inexplicably dropped out of the sky in hoards in our geographical neighbor to the South, Arkansas. Also in that fair state, hundreds of thousands of fish were washed upon the banks of the Arkansas River.  All this the same day my lungs' capacity is shown to be actually improving! Not unlike a thumb tack or a gold fish, this is all hard to swallow. It seems like the end of days is nigh, kiddies. Armageddon is coming early this year. YAY. What should I wear?
When I google image searched "end of days fashion"- this was one of my results. Its official, polka dots and kicky boots work for any occasion

I wish I could say that these bizarre acts against nature were isolated cases, but they weren't. Brace yourselves, folks: Today I watched a Western...and enjoyed it. I went with my friend to go see the Coen Brothers fiesta of awesomeness, True Grit. [Tangent: Truly, Jeff Bridges delivered another Oscar worthy performance, but to me his greatest roles have all been the same: A liquor loving character that looks as if he smells and has a frat boy nickname. The Dude. Bad Blake. Rooster Cogburn. Something tells me, that's just Jeff Bridges. Maybe he should have gotten his Oscar for a little gem of a teen movie called Stick It! where he played a girls gymnastics coach.] During the 2 hour movie, I never looked down at my phone once to check the time. That is my mark of a good film, because I obsessively check my phone.

For most of the US, westerns are pure Americana. Good guys vs. bad guys. John Wayne. Cowboys and Indians. Etc. For me, however, they are my hell.  Aside from the fact that I am a huge anti-gun kinda gal and I don't swoon at a man in spurs, I am immersed with the genre against my will for a good portion of my day, so it's curious that I would spend my time and $8 to go see one. With 99% certainty I can say my family purchased the most obscenely ridiculous cable plan for one reason, The Encore Western Channel. My dad truly get enough of it. Each morning, I leave for work with the theme from Law Man blaring [Tangent: In fact I can hear it from the room as I get dressed and have even started singing along. "Law Man...he rides in with the sun...There is a job to me done...He is ruled by the badge and the gun of the Law Man!"] and return home in the afternoon to see that the screen is still adhered closely to the same station, now showing old black and white episodes of Gunsmoke, [Tangent: It's my dad's happy place and background noise. I can't fault him for that...you all know what kind of crap I watch to pass my time.] 

In the spirit of bonding with my father, I have tried numerous times to sit through one of these series or features, I usually end up with mouth agape or asking questions so frequently that my he is provoked to turn the channel. [Tangent: Questions I ask during Western watching is, but is not limited to, the following: "Was this considered good acting?" "Who is that annoying kid?" "Why is this entertaining?" and "Is that woman a prostitute?"] I am aware that it is the legacy on my dad's side of the family to reach a certain age and fall into a vortex where Encore Westerns takes up a good portion of your life. It happened to my Uncle Robert and is currently happening to my uncle Billy and my daddy.  Its my prayer that this genetic inclination skips my generation. 

Hopefully I have dodged the bullet. [Cowboy pun intended.] Its my belief that I already went through my western phase when I was in 6th grade, and I am not doomed to repeat it. That proverbial ship has sailed, or horse has ridden...or whatever. Not to make you readers jealous, but I took adaptive horseback riding lessons and wore Sam and Libby shoe boots, I was clearly a force to be reckoned with.  I may or may not have even rocked the Lisa Frank rainbow horse trapper keeper and owned an electric blue cowboy hat to prove my allegiance to the land that I love. 

High Ho silver. Away.


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