" chronicles of a premium dingus"

that was the alternative title to my blog, but seeing as how my life goal is to become a little more classy before i'm dead, i decided against it. but, that doesn't make it any "less true."

since we've already talked about the elephant in the room: the fact that i'm a bit of a dingus, and you are now quickly becoming both intrigued and invested in my chronicles, lets talk about some other things equal in levels of awesome and genuine.

there are few things that bring me more joy than going to the movies with a big tub of popcorn, a large dr. pepper, and one of those giant watermelon laffy taffys. i guess you could say this is my "happy place." some days i just need that escape from reality with some of my edible best friends. but most days i just love getting wrapped up in other places, other ideas, situations i will likely never find myself in. plus it's like people watching without getting crusty looks for unintentionally staring.

i blame the movies for a lot of things in my life. thanks to the truman show i have found myself wondering if my life is actually a reality tv show for a good 14 years now. why else would i get severely dumped, have my summer vacation plans simultaneously sabotaged, get a massive ticket for expired registration for at least the 10th time in my life the day before i was going to take care of it, a horrific sunburn, and a lost apartment key that, after fighting the tears and holding my head high for one too many days in a row, resulted in me climbing through my apartment window in front of a dominos delivery man with a dropped jaw as i cried sad, dirty tears to myself. guys, does real life include that? this has to be the cailie show. and i hope you're enjoying it thoroughly. especially the parts where i talk to my pet ferret and laugh so hard i'm bawling over a conversation with my sister about whether or not beavis and butthead were actually of scandanavian decent.

i blame the movies for a lot of my let-downs. stupid billy crystal playing harry burns always makes me think some incredibly handsome man is going to storm into my new year's eve lameness and give me a speech that leaves me speechless and will result in a wedding with dipping sauce on the side and blissful companionship for life. yeah right. "storming into my new years eve" would consist of walking into my parents basement and finding me passed out on the couch with pizza residue on my face, in a snuggie with a bandaids on my acne, halfway through the lord of the rings series. Not quite as glamorous as 1989 meg ryan at a legitimate new years eve party. but for the record that movie is the most adequate love story in my book.

i blame the movies for my jumpiness at the grocery store when a burly man walks around the corner and i'm sure he's there to kidnap me and hold me ransom but really he needs some toilet paper just like the rest of us.

but despite all the things i blame the movies for, when i'm 90 years old and even further away from 5 feet tall i will still be at the movies getting my brain filled with irrational ideas and just enough goodness.