Monthly Archives: April 2012
Last night, I ventured out around 11:30 (in my pajamas) to catch the midnight showing of The Lucky One…this is when living on top of a movie theatre really comes in handy.
I had been counting down the days until the premiere, for many reasons. 1., it was the first time I’d actually read a Nicholas Sparks book before the movie was even made, 2. Zac Efron is super, super fine, and 3., I love midnight showings.
Seriously, if the movie seems remotely interesting, and it has a midnight opener, I’m there. The crowd is always so much more attentive, and fun, since they are true fans.
Anyway, I was really excited to see this movie.
The Lucky One is the story of Logan Thibolt, a marine who just finished his third tour in Iraq. During his last tour, a few marines from his troop were killed from an IED, however Logan was spared because he went to pick up a photo he found in the rubble.
The photo was that of a blond woman, wearing a shirt that said “The lucky one.” Toward the end of his tour, Logan’s friend told him the picture had served as his lucky charm, and Logan owed a big thank you to the girl in the photo, whoever she was.
When he returns to Colorado, he goes in search for the girl, showing the picture to everyone as he walks across the country, ending up in the South (in the book, it’s North Carolina, and in the movie, it’s Louisiana).
He finds her, and applies to work for her, instead of telling her why he’s really there.
Can you guess what happens next?
Logan and the lucky charm, Beth, fall in love, but not without problems. Beth’s ex-husband and baby daddy, as well as small-town sheriff, makes things difficult when he tells Beth he doesn’t approve of her new boyfriend, and will take it out in the custody battle if necessary.
In true Sparks’ fashion, there are a few twists and turns that I’ll leave out here, but it makes for a solid movie.
And did I mention Efron is super, super hot? I think I’m still drooling.
About a year ago, a former coworker of mine said he was coming in town for a weekend and thought we should see a movie together. I agreed, and was looking forward to catching up with an old friend.
When the weekend neared, he asked me if I wanted to grab dinner before the flick. I said sure; as I’m always up for a good meal. Over dinner, we talked about work, how things had changed (or hadn’t) and he asked me about my dating life. I joked and said I didn’t have one, and we were off to the movie.
During the movie, he asked to hold my hand.
Things were turning in a direction I hadn’t intended and I didn’t know how to get out of it. He had driven us to the theatre—I was stuck.
After the movie, we drove to a bar to meet another coworker. I was looking for an out. The coworker, however, didn’t help my situation as he suggested the visitor stay at my apartment instead of his. I went to the restroom and just hoped the night would end.
As my former friend drove me home, he asked if he could crash at my apartment. I hesitated, and told him I was very tired, but he was welcome to my couch.
Once we got to my apartment, he refused the couch saying, “You’re not allowed to go to bed unless I go with you.” We had reached scary status and I didn’t like it one bit.
Since then, the coworker has continued to contact me, despite my efforts to ignore him. His calls, emails, instant messages, and texts all go unanswered. I’ve gotten the cold shoulder before, and I know it’s not the best way to push someone away, however I don’t think this guy deserves any type of respectful explanation.
I just hope my silence starts speaking so he’ll leave me alone.
During a drive this weekend, I popped in a random CD and came across one of my favorite country songs, “These Days” by Rascal Flatts.
The song, which is the story about a man running into a girl he’s loved for years although she’s married, is a little cheesy (and so is the music video), but I just love it. In fact, I remember the first time I heard it.
It was the summer between my senior year in high school and my freshman year of college. I really didn’t like country music, but I had two things working against me: 1. my boyfriend at the time, and 2. my summer job.
My then boyfriend, Zach, was a small-town boy who loved country music. I specifically remember nights in his backyard listening to Kenny Chesney, feeling as if we were on an exotic beach, when really, we were behind miles of cornfields and muddin’ tracks.
Those fond moments I had, soundtracked to country, carved a sweet place in my heart.
Then there was my summer job as a carhop at Grab ‘N Go, a place that sold fried pork tenderloins and orange slushies. My boss was good in business, bad in marriage, but only listened to country. That’s all we played at Grab ‘N Go. I learned to like it.
During a shift one afternoon, I heard “These Days,” and it really struck a chord; it was just so sweet. It was one of the first country songs I burned onto a CD for my car.
I still love the song, and I really love singing to it whenever I get the chance. I don’t know if it’s the song I love so much, or the great memories attached to it.
“Someone told me, after college, you ran off to Vegas. You married a rodeo-cowboy, why, that ain’t the girl I knew. Me? I’ve been a few places, mostly here or there once or twice, still sortin’ out life, but I’m doin’ alright.” —Rascal Flatts
Last night, I joined a girlfriend for dinner before an event we had tickets for. The event, an MMA fight, was in an area of town that doesn’t have much going on. The best we could find was an Outback Steakhouse.
Outback Steakhouse was the first job I ever had. I was 16, had just gotten my license and a car, and a few of my friends worked there. After filling out an application, taking a quick math test, and passing an interview, I landed my first moneymaker.
I was so excited.
I didn’t realize it then, but it was a pretty lucrative gig. I was a hostess, so my job was simply seating guests and rolling silverware. I got a small hourly wage and a percentage of the tips for the night.
At 16, I was blind to several of the problems my older coworkers had. I was just there for gas money, while some of them had families, and mouths to feed.
That same year, I went to our high school’s winter formal with one of my best guy friends who also worked at Outback with me. We joined a group of our friends and coworkers for the dance and decided to head to Outback when it was over.
To our surprise, our coworkers let us in after the restaurant closed that night. They let us in the kitchen, in our formal wear, and fix ourselves slices of raspberry cheesecake.
It was simple, and it was so much fun.
I had forgotten about that night until I sat at the Outback bar last night. Just as I was approaching my second margarita, a group of four high schoolers sat near us, dressed for prom.
They were taking funny pictures, laughing when they teetered in their uncomfortable heels, and were constantly adjusting their shimmering gowns.
It took me back, ten years, to that night with my friends.
“I would love to go back,” my friend told me. She was looking in their direction, too.
“Me too,” I said. “I cared so much back then. I cared about good grades and being popular. Why?”