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Monday November 17, 2003 - 5:12 p.m. Quick! Give me a good idea for a birthday present. No, you don't need to know who it's for. Just give me an idea, dammit. While you're at it, give me two. Next week is the Thanksgiving. How weird am I feeling about that? Pretty damned weird. I've been at my job now for a year. That feels funny. Like wearing shoes on the wrong feet. No, not like that. But I can't think of what it does feel like. So this weekend I watched Toy Story 2, because despite the fact that I dislike cartoon-like movies in general, I am a Pixar geek and will watch anything they put out. (I am frothing in an altogether stupid way about The Incredibles. I know, I know...leave me alone.) My niece was particularly excited to watch this movie too, since she hasn't seen it a bazillion times and since I wanted to see it too, she also doesn't have me bitterly complaining about what's on the telly to distract her from watching whatever monstrosity she's currently taken in by. Except, she didn't like "the part where Woody gets his arm ripped off." I've seen Toy Story 2 before, but not recently enough to remember this. This, apparently, is a horribly traumatizing part for little niece, however. She ran from the room, her screams trailing behind her, as that part approached. From the other room, behind the wall, I heard her yell: "Tell me when it's over, okay?" Okay, says me, happily eating my chocolate muffin from Stephen my love. The movie progresses. "Is it over?" from the other room. "No...well, his arm just ripped. So yeah." A silence, then, panicked: "NO! It's not over! You have to tell me when the garbage eats him!" This took me back a minute. I sat there with my muffin halfway to my mouth. "The...garbage eats him?" "Yesyesyes his arm rips and he gets in the garbage and the toys come up and eat him alive and they pull him down and I hate that part I hate it you have to tell me when it's over you have to." I had no recollection of garbage or toys eating anyone alive in Toy Story 2. I had a recollection of people being all eaten or at least bitten and some junk in 28 Days Later, but somehow I doubted little niece was confusing the two. A few seconds later: "Is it over?" "Yes, it's over...well, no. I mean, he's been put on the shelf but I haven't seen anything about garbage. You think I could have missed it?" "No." A few seconds later: "Is it over?" "I don't know, maybe...do you-" From the other room: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!" I instantly sweat from every single possible pore. "What??? What???" "There it is! It's the part! I can hear it! AAAAAA!!!!" The house is a brief cacophony of little niece shrieks, Woody-being-abandoned screams, and auntie pleas to "Cover your ears! Just cover your ears! Unnnnggghhh!!!" The scene ends. Little niece returns from the other room, a portrait of calm, a positions herself once again in front of the television. I, on the other hand, have to lay down for a bit and wait for my palms to dry out so I can hold onto my fork once again. It's always I good time in my world. Trust me. Word.
-Mlle R
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