Sunny vs. Sinister

Happy Saturday, my little swashbucklers!

You should be jealous of me right now.  What?  Yes you should.  Last night I had a blind date.  No no, not the Ashley Madison kind, the infertile kind.

I got to meet Sunny from Cease and Decyst.  BOOM.  Drink it in.

I imagine when meeting someone off the interwebs a part of you wonders if

1. this is in fact going to be a middle-aged serial killer or
2. just want to share with you that if you simply donated $10,000 to their pyramid and believed wholeheartedly in the spiritual enlightenment of a bald man passing out flowers on Hollywood Blvd, you, too, could be a member of their cult get pregnant.

So it is with my delight that I can officially put my Storkiest Stamp of approval on Miss Sunny, who could not be more awesome if she tried.  She is of a Rockstar status in the mind of Stork and I would genuinely pursue her as a friend with creepy zeal whether or not we had shittiness in common (and we do, which makes it even more awesome).

I now highly recommend overlooking any of the above mentioned fears in getting together with a local infertile and doing it.  It is fucking liberating to be in the presence of someone who is equally pissed off about the very existence of children whilst simultaneously scheming how to create one.

We ate at a cute little 50's diner that I had never been to and discussed, among other things, porn, jerking off into a cup and let's face it, the greatest series of all time, To Catch a Predator.  (And if you are unfamiliar with that series, do yourself a favor and tune into MSNBC on a Sunday - which seems to be sex predator Sunday - it will either be documentaries on sex slaves or reruns of the aforementioned awesomeness).

Then, and I take full credit/blame for this, we wedged ourselves among hoards of teenagers (a healthy reminder - try as we might to get babies, everyone fucking sucks at that age with few exceptions) and saw Sinister.  My darling, brave Sunny was frightened during the previews... I of course took the high road and hid behind a popcorn bag.

Ahh, and for those of you who do not want to see this movie I'll sum it up for you (without any major spoilers).

1. Happy family moves into house.
2. Man wears sweater with suede elbow patches.
3. Sidenote - the post-Uma years have not been kind to Mr. Ethan Hawke.
4. Man finds movies of murders.
5. Man still wears sweater.
6. Shit gets bananas.
7. No.. seriously... weeks go by and he's still in this sweater.

Let me again make my case for those of you who don't like horror movies - in short, the moral of all horror movies is that nothing good can come of having children easily.  It's basically an open invitation for demons, little girl ghosts, and your possible dismemberment. (Also, in this instance, the moral would also be to do your laundry every once in awhile).

ANYHOO.

I adore her, be jealous of me, go read her if you're not already because I don't know what you could possibly otherwise be doing with your life.

And I will mention this again when it's not the weekend and more people are reading - but we're going to plan an outing for anyone remotely local and infertile, probably next month.  Something infertile friendly, like dinner and drag queens.

And now, a-la writing prompts, a little something about my Grandmother.

How do I describe her.... She is like, the elderly female Mexican version of Ron Swanson if you took away his hunting and woodwork.

She is both no-nonsense, and absolutely ludicrous.

Some Grandma facts:

• She calls my Grandpa "viejo" (old man) and will tell anyone that will listen that he drives her insane.
• Despite approaching 90, she still rides the scary rides at Disneyland and calls those who don't 'a bunch of chickens'.
• She was visiting us once when I was 9 and I got a very bad splinter on the bottom of my foot.  She spent an hour removing it - with a butcher knife - and told me 'not to be such a chicken'.
• Until recently she made menudo (no not the boy band, a mexican soup which is the end-all be-all cure for hangovers) every Sunday for our entire family. And there are a lot of us.  We like to mate. Mexican rabbits, I say.
• She will feed you whether or not you're hungry and take it as a personal attack if you don't eat.  Also?  That part that you don't eat - that's the best part.
• She once lost her glasses for a few days, accused everyone in the family of treason, and then discovered they were in a salad bowl in the fridge.
• One of her favorite words is shit.

Yes indeed folks, this is the stock I come from.  I want to be her when I'm an old lady.

Tomorrow I am posting the list of participants and questions for Mondays video!  Last chance - don't be a bunch of chickens.

May your Saturday be heavy on the Sunny and light on the Sinister.