My Theory on Acting

I was watching the movie “13 Going on 30” the other day when hubby walked by and remarked that Mark Ruffalo is the same character no matter what movie he’s in, thus illustrating my theory on acting.

My theory on acting is this: actors get paid gobs of money to say words written by other people, but they are still being themselves when they say them. There are very few actors who can disappear into a role and commit to it so completely that you forget who you are watching. Tom Hanks pulled it off with Forrest Gump. I don’t know about anybody else, but when I watch that movie I don’t see Tom Hanks.

Tom Cruise is one of those actors who can’t really act. He is the same character in every movie he has ever been in: the young, cocky, headstrong hero type with perfect hair who gets the girl. Boring! Not that I haven’t enjoyed some of his movies, but I always know I’m watching Tom Cruise on the screen. Why he earns so much damn money is beyond me.

Hubby said MI: 3 was a good movie despite having Tom Cruise in it. It comes out on DVD tomorrow, so I’ll be able to judge for myself. Once Netflix mails a copy to me, that is.

Reservations

I just got home from a visit to the family homestead in PA. Since I live in AZ and time was a factor, I was forced to fly. I hate flying, which is not the same as being afraid to fly.

I hate everything that goes along with an airplane flight: dragging my luggage through the airport; paying extra if my luggage weighs two ounces more than the 50 lb. limit; being forced to strip before going through security (watch, jacket, sneakers); being selected for additional screening (during which the security guard fondles me more than my husband has in a long time); having my shampoo confiscated for being in a generic, unlabeled travel bottle instead of it’s original packaging (which is larger than 3 oz. and no longer allowed); showing ID over and over again; cramming myself into the too narrow, overpriced airline seat next to a guy who thinks my armrest belongs to him simply because he’s a man. Aaaarrgh! The frustration!

I purchased our tickets online and selected aisle seats for both hubby and me. I like an aisle seat, so the only way I can sit next to hubby is with him shoe-horned into the middle seat or across from me in the other aisle seat. Since I wouldn’t wish a middle seat on my worst enemy, and the aisle is only about 7 inches away, I selected the latter option. We checked in and made our way to the gate, and since the airline attendant handed the boarding passes to hubby I didn’t see them until we were about to board and it was too late. Hubby had been reassigned to a middle seat! Noooooooooo! We spent the flight practically in each others laps which made the day even worse than I was expecting.

I know Jerry Seinfeld has already waxed philosophical about this issue, but when you make a reservation it should be held in the manner you intended it to be held. If you reserve an aisle seat, you shouldn’t have to cram yourself into the middle seat. If you reserve a luxury vehicle, you shouldn’t have to drive a sub-compact.

Which reminds me: the next time we need a rental car I am going to handle the reservation, not hubby!

Friday the 13th

Paraskevidekatriaphobia: the fear of Friday the 13th.

I am not a superstitious person, but I do believe that people act especially stupid on certain days of the year; namely on a full moon, Halloween, New Years Eve, and Friday the 13th.

Hospital ER’s are especially busy and many women go into labor unexpectedly during a full moon. These are not scientific observations, but many health care professionals who work in hospitals would agree that these examples are supported by anecdotal evidence.

According to myth, All Hallows Eve (or Halloween) is a mystical time when the veil between the living and the dead is at its thinnest. Pagans of old, fearful of ghosts and other things that go bump in the night, lit fires and made sacrifices to the dead. Today we carry on those traditions by lighting bonfires and jack-o-lanterns, handing out candy to trick-or-treaters and dressing up as creatures of the night.

Many stupid things are done in the name of ringing in the New Year; unattainable and pointless resolutions are made and relationships are hastily begun or ended by people who are terrified to be alone on such a symbolic night. New Years Eve is also a time for drunken revelry; not having to worry about getting killed by a drunk driver makes celebrating at home an attractive option for many, myself included.

Contrary to Hollywood movies and urban legends, masked axe murderers are not something people commonly worry about encountering on Friday the 13th; however, many people who get fired or have a car accident on this day will claim that bad mojo is partially to blame. Who among us can resist the easy out of laying blame on superstition rather than taking responsibility for bad decisions?

Like I said, I’m not a superstitious person but I plan to stay close to home today…just in case.

Chores

I schedule my household chores like an appointment. Is that odd?

I dust and vacuum twice a week: I recently changed days to Monday and Thursday from Tuesday and Friday because hubby just started working from home on Fridays and I don’t want to disturb him while he’s working in the den. Plus he sneezes when I dust.

I clean the bathroom on Wednesday and Sunday and wash the hard floors on Sunday, too. Dishes are done daily and the litter box gets scooped every other day. I spot-clean counters, do laundry, and put things away in between these scheduled cleaning days so the house stays neat and tidy. I hate living in a messy house.

This may sound very anal retentive, but trust me when I say that my house is a mess compared to my mother’s home. She moves the furniture when she vacuums (!) and makes the bed every day. My idea of making the bed is pulling the blankets smooth as I get out. Misty likes to sleep on the bed and she hates lumps.

Hubby treats every flat surface as a potential resting place for his stuff. He hates it when I put his stuff away and I hate it when he leaves stuff out. The compromise is that I give him a two day clean up warning. If it’s still out two days after I’ve asked him to put it away, it’s fair game for me to clean up.

Two Saturdays ago, he bought a new target stand and left the assembly instructions and warranty registration form lying on the kitchen counter. After a full week of walking past the paperwork, I told him that I would find a suitable home for it if he didn’t take care of it himself. He said he’d take care of it, but I wound up putting it on his desk two days later. We didn’t argue about it, so the system seems to be working.

If I didn’t schedule my chores I might be tempted to skip vacuuming for a week, and with two cats in the house, that’s not a good idea. Dishes are my least favorite chore; it used to be ironing, but I try not to buy clothing that needs to be ironed, thus saving myself the trouble.

Cleaning can be a very Zen experience. The only problem with a clean house is that it immediately starts to get dirty again. It’s a vicious cycle.