The Adventures of Mrs.Movie Snob

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...

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...

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...