The Adventures of Mrs.Movie Snob

Thank goodness for Balayage, huh? At first, it lessened the shock factor of my neglected hair but has since becoming a blaring reminder (and obvious time stamp) of a life without salons. I kind of feel like a tree. The change in colour of this ring will signify the Pandemic of 2020. I could also blame Matt. Since we've been together, he has wished and wished and wished that I'd grow my hair out. I hate long hair. It's a pain in the ass. I've actually threatened more than a few times to shave my head over the last few weeks. I'm too chicken to actually do it, of course. And I don't dare take my kitchen scissors to this tumbleweed - so long hair it is, for now. No more birthday wishes for you, Mr. Sully. You've gone too far. Don't even get me started on my nails. And forget about the brows. The gym is also closed. Jesus. It's gonna be a full-on Extreme Makeover once this all passes. Once this all passes. .. how many times have you heard t...

These are the days of our lives, friends. Although, if it wasn't for my Iphone and Outlook calendar I might not know which day. It's been easier to keep track of the season because the snow has melted and it's actually warm. The forecast, though, says we're about to get our obligatory April, "F*** Y**, I'm not gone!" , post-Winter cold snap. After that, I'm pretty sure I'll have no idea where I even am. At least I'll be able to pretend the reason I'm not going anywhere is because it's too nippy out. If it snows, I can even blame the bad roads for my hermit lifestyle. So there's that. That'll be fun. That'll give me about 8 minutes of entertainment for my long weekend. Now, there's a term that's lost a little of its luster; weekend. That beautiful, well earned, two day break after the work week. I can relax in my soft clothes! I can drink a little too much wine! I can spend time with my family and watch some Netfl...

I feel a shift in the air. I think you feel it too. That feeling of impermanence is gone. As with many things, when quarantine first began, we were gung ho. Inconvenienced, and a bit annoyed, sure, but still pretty optimistic. The memes were pouring out. People were sharing their new home/work schedules, enrolling in free online classes (myself included) and hunkering down for what we were told would be only a few weeks. Totally doable. We're now finishing up Week 3 in lock down. And, let's be honest, shit's gotten a little too  real. Always the optimist, I still believe we'll get through this. In fact, I know we will. I still believe this time will eventually be a memory. I have to trust that by doing what I'm supposed to, I will be fine and so will those I love. But the truth of it is, by the time this is done, many won't be alright. There will be an aftermath. A new reality. I just don't know when and how that will happen. The  not knowing  is what...

Breaking News! Breaking News! Breaking News! TV off. I'm a bit jealous of folks who gave up social media for lent. I can't remember the last post I saw that wasn't virus-related. A friend of mine said something like, "anxiety loves this stuff." She ain't lying. I watch the news, get all bothered, turn it off and calm down and then go back for more. Anyone else? Today, our Prime Minister said, "Let me be clear. If you are abroad, it's time to come home." This was followed by something along the lines of  if you don't already live here, you ain't gettin' in.  This was hardly a surprise but hearing him say it out loud is a little unnerving. Especially when our families live thousands of miles away. AND I have elderly and seriously ill relatives. For now, I'm not sure when I'll see them again. I speak to my Mom when I can and she's told me she's glad we're here. (so am I) But still. Shitty. We've just com...

For the last year I've been saying  that we are living in the shit-storm montage that you see at the beginning of every post-apocalyptic film. (*cue the zombies*) I have yet to be proven wrong. This last week, though, we hit the gas pedal. You can't turn on the news without being inundated with COVID-19 updates. Everything is cancelled. Everything is scarce. Everyone is home. (Well, everyone that can be) And so begins the era of self-quarantine - an era, I hope, we'll look back on fondly in a few weeks when this is all over. Until then, though, guess what? We're all in this together. The Sullys' have not been exposed (that I know of). We have not been out of the country. (for far too long) But, we will still do our part and I hope you will too. It's going to be a long few weeks, to be sure. But we WILL get through it. Our families live in the USA. On a good day, I'm worried about them given current affairs. I've been watching the news, of c...

I’m getting too old to be modest. Too much time has already been spent worrying (obsessing, even) about what people think about me. There’s nothing I can do about that now. Going forward, though, I can do everything. I was reminded today of just how powerful self-pride can be, especially for women. A colleague of mine just received a well-deserved, major promotion. At the end of our meeting, she was recognized for her achievement and we all congratulated her, of course. *applause, applause* I watched her, completely at ease, hearing our accolades - taking it in and smiling. It wasn’t conceit or ego. It was confidence. And it was beautiful . When our President said to her, “You work hard!” She didn’t miss a beat, “Yeah, I do.” *mic drop* If there ever was a moment to say, “ You go girl !”, that was it. (For the record, there really isn’t a correct time to say that… or “been there, done that” or “that’s what I’m talking about” or “it’s all good” … but I digress...

The next decade is pretty bleak... if you ask Hollywood. Dystopian, disconnected, dangerous. In keeping with America’s obsession to promote fear, we have been taught, through film, that our reality will go majorly awry … relatively soon. When we were kids, my mind didn’t see 2020 like this . We have fun gadgets now, sure, but sadly, my car still doesn’t fly (lies, Jetsons), I can’t make pizza with a “hydrator” in less than a minute (thanks for nothing, Back to the Future 2), and we can’t even implant memories! (although, Total Recall, wasn’t exactly promoting this) To be fair, though, a future envisioned where things are just sort of the same wouldn’t bring in box office numbers. Throw in a robot uprising, a worldwide plague or carnivorous aliens and we line up.  What the hell is wrong with us? Here's 5 movies that make me want to build a bomb shelter:    1. Blade Runner Released in 1982. Set in 2019. Siri and Alexa are relatively new to u...

I’ve become the very thing I used to mock. If 5-years-ago-me   heard some of the things coming out of Today-me’s mouth regularly, I’d scoff, “Suck it up!” and take another bite of my extra-cheese pizza and gulp a drink of beer. But, oh how times have changed. I’ve been reduced to 3 questions: “Do you have gluten-free options?” “Can I get lactose-free milk?” “Is it possible to leave off the sesame seeds?” A little background: I’ve basically been in some sort of pain for about the last year or so. I got used to taking daily Ibuprofen’s, sometimes Naproxen. Some days Ibuprofen and Aspirin. And still some days both with a heating pad. That’s just how it was going to be now. I’m in my 40’s and (according to one useless Doctor’s analysis and dismissal) and I should just learn to cope as I begin my decade-long slide into menopause. Yeah, thanks. My discomfort sent me to the emergency room 3 times. Blood work showed nothing and I was beginning to lose hope. Then, af...

Why is everyone so angry lately? In public. Online. On the roads. It’s so exhausting. The very air can be so heavy sometimes. And it can really beat you down if you let too much of it in. We can all do better. I can definitely be  impatient. Sometimes, I get triggered, sure. When these situations arise, though, we have a choice; hastily react or pause (breathe, if necessary) and assess the actual scenario. I’ll let you in on a little secret. I have terrible anxiety. And, unfortunately, it seems to be getting worse as I get older. Ironically, I always thought the opposite would happen. You grow up and you’re supposed to let minor bullshit go, right? The answer is a bit more complicated than “yes or no.” I can let minor things go, yes. But usually it’s only after I’ve obsessed for a while. And now, for added fun, I find I obsess over very different things than I used to. Gone are the days or worrying what I’m going to wear out or when my paper is due. (Well, not complet...

In 2013, thanks to a very good yet misleading trailer, Matt and I went to see "Man of Steel." As we left the theatre, I turned to him and said, "That's it. No more superhero movies for me." Besides the fact that it absolutely SUCKED, I realized something else. They're mostly all the same. And I was bored. Then a few months ago, I watched the trailer for "Joker." I was intrigued. It looked dark and disturbing. It touted itself as yet another in the new genre of alternate universe. And most importantly, it starred Joaquin Phoenix. Check. Check. Check. Fine, I'll go... We just got home. One word: Masterpiece. Set in a very Scorcese-ish 1980's Gotham, Joker introduces us to Arthur Fleck: a pathetic, forgettable little man doing odd jobs, in clown garb. He is the awkward guy everyone talks about at work. He's the guy just creepy enough that you might cross the street if you saw him in your path or switch seats on the bus if he was ...

Once upon a time, in the magical land of my youth, a decade seemed like a long time. Seriously. Stop for a moment and think about the time that slowly passed between 10 years old and 20 years old; 17 years old and 27 years old. Somewhere around 30, however, the passage of time seemed to change. It did for me, anyway. Time, which was once measure only for  me , now passed in " years married " and " Isabel's Birthday's ." And in these precious increments - time flies. How often I've found myself muttering (I mutter now), "How is it already ?" or  "That seems like yesterday." Or my latest declaration, " We've been in Canada for 10 years." Now, before I move on, let's process that last one... I've been in Canada for 10 years. (*silently contemplating*) 10 years in Canada. (*shivering*) 10 YEARS. (*apologizes Canadianly*) As if moving from the southern US to the frosty North wasn't life-chang...

On one of our first dates, Matt took me to Luby's for lunch. I remember sitting there giggling over a heap of fried okra (and other delectable cafeteria fare) and thinking, "This guy someone I want to know." Just a few hours earlier, he had picked me up, drove me to the mall and told me he wanted "to buy me something pretty." Indeed he did. No expense was spared, in fact. After, we ate Luann Platters and   toasted our sweet tea in plastic cups. The bar was set pretty high. I couldn't have been happier. And that's my Matthew in a nutshell. He treats me like a queen wherever we go - be it a fancy boutique or a greasy diner. The world is our stage and we're always having a ball. Ask anyone. It's funny to me that two people who swore they would never EVER get married turned out to be really good at it. We fight, sure. (Boy! We've had some good ones!) We annoy each other almost daily. (Just put the dishes in the sink, ok?!) But we also laugh. ...

I don't have a dad. I never have. The S.O.B. is out there somewhere. Just nowhere I've ever known about. I've only ever been Debbie's daughter. I was briefly a step daughter - by law - to a very cruel man that my Mother married when I was a child. Father material, though, he was not. The only positive male role model that I can remember early on is my Grandfather, Inez. And when he was around, which wasn't too often because we lived far away, I'd feel like a princess. Still do. (All his granddaughters do. He's our hero.) So, when social media is saturated on Father's Day with images of loving, attentive, present Daddies, I find myself in foreign territory; somewhere on the outside looking in on a strange exhibit. I equate it to going to a history museum and staring blankly at a scene set in olden days. I can't relate. That's how they lived? How strange. I'm not sad, really. Or jealous. Anymore. I'm at an age where I can take...

My husband has taken a mistress. It's time to come clean. She's been in our lives now for a little over a year. In fact, most of you know about her. It may surprise some of you that I am reacting so calmly and haven't gone full Latina . (A fate to which he has been warned) At this point, however, I feel it is more beneficial to the three of us if I not only accept her but embrace her very existence. Put down your pitchforks. Her name is "Father's Creed." Matt's book. Yes, the Sully family has a new member. For now anyway. She visits him most days at work. She is waiting for all of us every night when we get home. And I'm pretty sure she's along for most of our outings. Matt knows her intricately. And I am happily, finally , getting some one-on-one time with her too. I don't write this to grumble. I'm over-the-moon proud of "Father's Creed." And I'm very much enjoying Matt's excitement at each milestone. This ...

Sunday afternoon at a grocery store in the suburbs. I haven't witnessed such unbridled egomania since I watched the news last Black Friday. Niceties are thrown out the window. Road rules are forgotten. (Stay to the right!) The volume is turned way up and your only defense is to keep moving, and keep moving fast. If you abide by the rules, you'll get in and get out, groceries in hand and if you're lucky with very few defensive wounds. Today, I was in the midst of this mess. All was going well. Then you get in line behind cash-and-coupon-Clara. You know who I'm talking about. She's in her early 50's. She had a change purse. She had a coupon organizer. She had a question about every damn item scanned. She had all the time in the world. What she didn't seem to have was a damn clue. I stood watching her. I didn't have much choice. I was about 4th in line and the people ahead of me were absolutely fuming. And just when we were about to make some headway --...

So here we are kids. 2019. The future. Even as I type that date it seems surreal. Like I'm going to wake up at any moment to find that this has all been a dream and it's really still 1990. Like most other couples we know, we rang in the new year very low key;  dinner with friends and then a few pints and some karaoke at our local pub we've aptly nicknamed "The Winchester." (Bonus points if you get that reference) Christmas always comes and goes like a hurricane and even though we wanted a "quiet Christmas, just us, " the holiday season is always a chaotic to-do list; shopping, cooking, parties, school assemblies. By Dec. 31, I am both mentally and physically exhausted. Add to that a few bonus days off of work, leaving my internal clock flashing 12:00. I heard Matt ask more than once, "What day is it?" More than once, I had to check. And then BOOM!, it's the New Year and we're all supposed to get back to adulting, schedules, school...

Oh, the intricacies of a relationship. Those wonderful moments that happen when no one else is around. All of my best friends are now coupled. Surely, you know what I speak of: The picking of a fight. Even as I sit here writing this, I am completely clueless as to what the hell just happened. Our typical Thursday family dinner was...typical...light, even, The three of us finished our supper and giggled over Isabel's new Magic Trick kit. Good Sully family memories. The yooj. ("usual") After teeth brushing, morning preparing and kid-tucking-in, it was adult time. As I settled on the couch to check my Insta, I glanced at the man-show on the tv, "What are you watching?", I asked. I was immediately met with a snarky and defensive remark from the husband. I responded. Only to be cut off with another snarky and defensive remark. "Umm...what the hell's your problem?" I don't much shy away. There was an infuriating little giggle as if to say, "...

A few nights ago Matt and I were watching an old episode of  Sex and the City . Well, I was watching. He was half-listening and playing on his phone. "Ugh. I hate these scenes when they're talking." First, don't you dare dis my show. Second, "What do you mean?!" "It's so forced. Life. Love. Clever quip.  We're so funny !" He said mockingly. Taken aback for a second, I looked at him utterly confused, "That's how girlfriends talk. We're much more clever than men." Cue eye roll. He knows I'm right. Still, I couldn't help but wonder, (see what I did there?)  What the hell do men talk about? I thought back to a few recent conversations we've had after a "Guys Night." There have been some major developments among our group of friends in the last few months: 3 big moves, a hospital stay for a sick kid, new jobs and general adulting. Lots of material for in-depth discussions.The day-after exchange...

*Originally written in 2015 for my Brother-in-Law's, TheNerdFu.com, I stumbled across this last week and thought the timing was perfect for a re-sharing.  ************** What’s your favorite scary movie?  Halloween ?  A Nightmare on Elm Street ?  The Exorcist ? I would be hard-pressed to single out one in my genre of choice. There are those that make me jump, those that make me scream, those that make me gag and (most preferably) those that make me quiver. ‘Tis the season to revisit my beloved horror films. One a night, much to the dismay of my fraidy-cat husband. Thanks to me, he is now very schooled in this frightful style. And through my devotion to this category, he has seen more than just the mainstream drivel. Here’s a few movies that slipped under his radar and maybe yours too. Eden Lake   (2008) This has a relatively simple premise. A young couple (half of which is Michael Fassbender) escape to the English countryside for a romantic camp...

I am an only child... ...and I know  all  the preconceived ideas that just popped into your head. We're spoiled. We're selfish. We're lonely. Am I right? Maybe I possess(ed) a few of those traits but not for the reasons you'd think. My personality was shaped more by a tumultuous upbringing. I'm not sure a sibling would've changed that. In fact, most times I'm glad that no one else had to go through it. Or maybe it's more like I'm glad there are no witnesses. Isabel is also an only child. She doesn't complain about not having siblings unless someone else brings it up first. When it's a curious child asking, we respond warmly, "Nope. It's just the three of us." Usually they seem a little confused at first, then maybe a little jealous? Kanata is not known for only children. Adults are tougher. "We don't want more children" is often met with many questions. It's exhausting and infuriating. When we lived in ...