“Judy II” (Flash Fiction) by Stacy Thornton

At a deep, confusing point in the night, I’ve had enough to drink to start feeling comfortable around my friends. But I intend to keep going, regardless. I know for sure that I’m in a good place emotionally when Lisa follows me onto the patio and I don’t tunnel into the pile of snow behind it to escape, carving out continuous space in front of me with raw, stinging hands until I can’t feel anymore and I find a new party somewhere else with a different set of people who look oddly familiar.
 
“Judy!” She digs her fingers into my shoulder. “C’mere.”
 
We’re the only two people outside in the cold. I notice a huge icicle hanging from the roof near Lisa’s head, illuminated by the string of white lights frozen beneath it. The tip looks sharp enough to be lethal, and I can’t stop staring at it.
 
“He mentioned you the last time I was over there. I think he wants to hook up.”
 
“What?” I wasn’t listening at all.
 
Her eyes wide, fruity vodka on her breath. “He’s interested in you.”
 
“He’s interested in everybody.”
 
She laughs. “Yeah. He’s like, collecting us.”
 
“So tempting, I should really complete that set,” I mock her, and she can’t even tell. That’s how great these drinks are.
 
“You’ve gotta go over there,” she says, slipping on a spot of black ice in the corner. “Seriously. It’s a wild experience.” Her eyes settle on the empty glass in her hand.
 
“Watch your step,” I say.
 
Twenty minutes later, in the kitchen, our mutual something Annabelle has me cornered between the fridge and the table.
 
“Did Lisa mention Mark?” she asks.
 
“No.”
 
“You need to go over there. Go right now.”
 
“Fuck off.”
 
“Judy, come on.”
 
I can feel the collective eyes of various partygoers moving over me when I’m not looking, like a bunch of fake haunted paintings in old movies.
 
“I don’t need to be part of your weird ‘been there, done that’ club,” I say, enunciating hard so as not to slur any words. Not entirely a success.
 
Annabelle leans in closer. “He can show you what you’re really capable of.”
 
I don’t respond.
 
“That’s why we’ve all gone over there. He’s so worth it. You won’t even be the same afterwords.”
 
“You have lipstick on your teeth,” I say.
 
“What?” She covers her mouth and abandons me. The lie worked.
 
She left her drink on the counter. I take a sip and whatever it is burns from the back of my throat all the way to the pit of my stomach. It’s nice.
 
I have no idea what time it is, but it’s late, when I attempt to chat up some guy in the living room as he’s observing the vinyl collection. With each album he touches I mention a factoid that relates the band to my life in some way, but he ignores me. I’m at the level of drunk now that I wonder for a second if he can’t see me at all; maybe I’m a ghost and don’t realize it. The lamest afterlife of all time.
 
The music feels a little too somber and relatable now and I take that as my cue to begin the long stumble home. Lisa appears to have magically sobered up some and Annabelle is passed out in her lap. They’re blocking my exit.
 
“Let me call you a cab,” Lisa says.
 
I wait for it outside. It’s snowing again. I’m alternately sweating from the alcohol and numb from the cold, but my mind is indifferent. Lisa’s house is the only one on the street with the lights still on, and the neighborhood looks like an empty shell in the darkness.
 
When the cab arrives, the heater is blasting inside because it always is. I give the driver my address and zone out. Something about sitting in the back of a moving sauna that smells like leather, it puts me to sleep.
 
“Your friend took care of the fare,” the guy says, and I’m startled awake.
 
“How did she know how much it would cost?”
 
“She just knew. I guess she’s taken the ride before.”
 
I’m on the curb before I realize my mistake: trusting Lisa to get me home safely. The buildings around me aren’t familiar, but I know where I am. Mark’s house is concrete and looks more like an office than a dwelling. The walkway has been shoveled and freshly salted. Visitors expected.
 
He opens the door and I’m reminded why everyone wants to be around him. This is still the same guy that hung out with us at the dorm freshman year of college, putting everyone at ease with his charm before dropping out to do better things. At the same time, though, my buzz is wearing off and I miss the feeling of fire in my chest.
 
“Judy’s finally here,” he says, grinning.
 
“Shut up. It’s cold.” I notice how expensive looking all his stuff is. We walk down a hallway to a room full of computer equipment, easing into the catch-up small talk that’s excruciating during the day and nearly impossible to pull off in the middle of the night.
 
“I know you and I are tight, but I need you to sign a waiver. Everyone does it.”
 
“Okay.” I’m too distracted by the fact that he considers us close to worry about signing a document. But I glance over it and scratch out my name.
 
Then I write the check. It’s a lot for me.
 
“You’ve gotta swear to me that this shit is worth it,” I say, before I hand it over.
 
“Do my clients not speak for themselves?” He smirks.
 
I hate him. Except, not really.
 
“They speak a little too much,” I reply. “They never shut up.”
 
“When was the last time a really large mental file was extracted from your port?” He asks.
 
“Oh. Sophomore year of High School, I think. It was a medical procedure.”
 
“Got it.”
 
I can practically hear my parents complaining, giving me the speech yet again about how in “their day” human beings and technology were still completely separated. I never heard the end of it the day I came home newly ported. Then I showed my dad how I could hook myself up directly to the sound system and he thought it was cool, because it was.
 
Mark feels around below my left ear, pressing gently with a warm fingertip, until he finds the tiny round hole.
 
“It’s gonna feel weird for a few minutes, while your consciousness downloads.”
 
“Wait.” I stop his hand. “You aren’t permanently removing anything, right?”
 
“No. I’m making a full copy.”
 
“Okay.”
 
“Here we go!” He pushes the end of the cable into my skull and I feel it connect to something. What, I don’t know. And there’s a loud CLICK inside my head. Colors spread out across my eyes and they’re all I see for a few seconds. Then my brain vibrates and clicks repeatedly. It’s not painful, just strange. And really unnerving.
 
“It’s a fucking trip, right?” He asks.
 
“Yeah,” I speak slowly, carefully, not sure at first if I even can.
 
“Tell me this. Are your teeth hot?”
 
I touch them with the tip of my tongue and nod.
 
“Is this normal?” I ask.
 
“None of this is normal.” He laughs.
 
He checks some numbers on a computer screen, turns around and kisses me gently. Not unwelcome, but startling.
 
“What—“
 
“A faster heart rate speeds up the download,” he says casually. The next couple of minutes are silent. What an asshole.
 
The sensations in my skull stop all at once. A harsh halt, like the electricity shutting off in a large house.
 
“Done. Give me ten minutes.”
 
“That’s all it takes?” I shudder as he pulls the cord from my port.
 
“I knew you were coming by,” he says. “Most of the prep work is done.” He points to my neck. “Put a little ointment on that for a couple of days.”
 
He stops in the doorway long enough to ask if I want anything. I shake my head and he disappears for what feels like a long time. I sit in silence as my teeth cool down and my pulse slows until he returns and leads me down another hallway to a closed door.
 
“Scream if you need me,” he says, and I can’t tell if he’s joking.
 
I go in alone and she’s standing there waiting, as awkward as I would expect her to be. Because she’s me. But she’s not me. Except, she is. An exact copy. Me, squared.
 
Our eyes meet and there is a moment of recognition. We know each other. We’re both completely aware of what this is. But she’s only existed for the last few minutes. Is she afraid? I can’t figure out for sure if she’s prettier than I am.
 
“Hey,” she says. “Super weird, right?”
 
I can’t respond. My eyes fill up and spill a tear down my cheek and onto the hardwood floor.
 
“What’s your deal?” She’s uncomfortable. We hate it when anyone shows emotion in front of us like this. Even more so, we hate showing our own emotion in front of someone else. Thus, this must be the ultimate definition of embarrassment.
 
There are so many questions I want to ask. But I know she won’t have the answers. She knows exactly what I know. Nothing more. I touch her face and it feels like real skin. She probably hates this. She pushes my hand away and laughs nervously.
 
Now, I grab her throat and squeeze. We’re surprised. This was unexpected. I’ve never seen my own eyes up close before, so wide, emoting something outside of a mirror. They have a nice green hue close to the pupil. I squeeze harder. As hard as I can. She gasps for breath and we sink to the floor.
 
She’s thrashing, but not fighting it. This is happening more quietly than I would have thought. Why don’t I try harder to stop myself? Her face twisting to one side, it registers that there is one difference: no port behind her ear.
 
My fingers poke through the surface of her throat to the inside. She sputters and coughs and a silvery warm liquid oozes down my wrists instead of blood. There are wires in her neck, glowing like LED Christmas lights as I rip them out. They fade and go dark. She eventually stops moving.
 
“Thank you,” she whispers to me, eyes closing.
 
The room is silent until Mark opens the door to find me sitting on the floor next to myself, motionless in a puddle of viscous fluid. My hands stained silver.
 
“That’s new,” he says.
 
I don’t exactly blackout, but my consciousness drifts. Like being asleep and awake at the same time. I’m next aware of sitting on a white sofa in a blue tinted room with a bar area. Not sure how much time has passed. But Mark sits next to me and lights a cigarette.
 
“Sorry I made a mess.” My own voice sounds like a stranger.
 
“It’s cool,” he says. “That one friend of yours? The one with the hair? She did some pretty crazy stuff when she was in there.”
 
“I bet.”
 
“Not what you did, though.” He offers me the cigarette. I take it.
 
“There’s a discount the next time,” he continues.
 
“You won’t see me here again.” I say.
 
He smiles like he doesn’t believe me and leans against the back of the couch, reclining in the soft, blue light. I kiss him. He seems okay with it. My fingers wander up the side of his face, behind his ear, and stop. He doesn’t have a port.
 
Out of curiosity, I put the cigarette out on the exposed flesh of his arm. He winces, as if the pain registers.
 
I must have felt it all.
 
Across the room, through the doorway, I see Mark walk down the hall, followed by Lisa and Annabelle. Dresses I’ve never seen before, different hairstyles. It’s them but it’s not them.
 
I kiss the Mark on the couch again, finally understanding.
 
Nothing really counts.

Advertisements

Nightmare

I haven’t had a nightmare since I was a kid. Not unless you count dreams where I was falling.

The last nightmare I can recall happened when I was in kindergarten, I think. I remember it like it was yesterday and I was running from a man in my elementary school who was chasing me with a pair of scissors. I remember hiding at the top of the monkey bars and watching as he killed kids below me until he looked up and saw me and started chasing me. It ended with him catching me and stabbing me in the chest with the scissors and my stomach gushing blood.

For years I have wished that I could have nightmares. Just the other week I was telling a coworker about my lack of nightmares and how I wished I could have them for writing material. Well, last night I finally had one and it’s funny because my coworker totally turned up to be in it.

It started out like a normal dream. I was at the movies with my coworker (Baby J) and J Lo (totally normal.) It was some fancy LA theater with assigned seating and we saw Jennifer Lawrence go into our theater with Lena Dunham and I was tweaking out. We got to our seats and I spent a good majority of the time searching the crowd trying to find Jennifer Lawrence but she was nowhere to be seen (not the nightmare part.)

The movie started and J Lo would not shut up. (If you know me and have been to the movies with me you’re probably thinking this is the nightmare part but it isn’t.) The person behind us was pissed and started telling her to be quiet and instead of agreeing with her I became an obnoxious moviegoer and told her that she needed to shut up and that we paid our money and that it was J Lo so she was allowed to talk.

J Lo ended up getting pissed off and they had to stop the movie because of a sound problem. I think that may have been why I was OK with J Lo talking because I figured they were going to restart it anyways. J Lo was pissed and decided that she was leaving. Baby J got up to try and convince her to stay and followed her out of the theater. I stayed and continued to search the crowd for Jennifer Lawrence and verbally fight with the girl behind us.

Then some other girl came and tried to take one of our seats. I said, “No! I paid for these seats and my friends might come back.” And then I laid across the seats. She told me that she originally paid for our seats but her friends canceled and that she still had the ticket for the one that was next to J Lo’s seat. She showed me the ticket and I moved and let my guard down.

I realized it was Chloe Grace Moretz and started having a normal conversation with her. Baby J came back and told me J Lo was not coming back. I told Chloe how I loved her in Kick Ass and how I wanted Baby J to dress up as Hit Girl for Halloween. I then finished her story for her about how she just got back from Korea and was on their SNL and how I just watched the clip on Youtube. She did the overreacting faces for us. (The clip is below.)

An usher came into the theater and we thought that he was going to restart the film but instead he informed us that a child was run over in the parking lot. We thought it was sad and thought they were going to restart the movie but instead they showed photos of the bloody crime scene in the parking garage and informed us to come forward with any information if we had it. Everyone thought this was the most fucked up thing, started to panic and left the theater.

When we got outside we ran into Chachalaka (still not the nightmare part) who was waiting for her husband. He showed up and shook my hand and I said it was nice to see him again. I had an internal monologue about what I should say to Chach because it was not nice to see her again and I think I said I’d see her around.

We walked to the car and realized that we parked near where they described the accident took place. I noticed the ground was wet. I said it looked dark red and gooey like blood. We thought we stumbled on the crime scene and started running to get out of there.

I ended up tripping on something and looked down and saw that it was a head. We all started to flip out and Baby J and Chloe tried to convince me to run and get in Baby J’s black SUV (she doesn’t have a black SUV in real life.) I froze for a second and then looked down and saw another head buried in some rocks. There was a payphone in between the two heads and I told Baby J we needed to call 911. Then one of the heads started talking and pleading with me to call 911. I asked him if he was fucking with me and he said no and brushed away some rubble and showed me that his head was barely connected to his body and that it couldn’t be a prank.

I dialed 911 and then Baby J and Chloe started to scream and I looked behind me and saw a figure holding an axe coming at me from the shadows. I dropped the phone and ran for the car and quickly got in. Baby J speed away and it started down pouring really hard and we couldn’t see out the windows. Then everything went dark and I woke up with my heart racing.

I looked at the clock and it was 2:59am. I was pissed to be awake that early but also really happy that I finally had a nightmare.

 

 

Puzzle Pieces

I should have known that I would be hearing from people I went to high school with after Mike Mitchell died.

“Is this Teddy?”

“I go by Theo now.”

“I’m sorry, Theo. I don’t know if you remember me but this is Melanie Dobosh. We went to-”

“Franklin High together.”

“Yes, exactly.”

I never imagined that Melanie Dobosh would call me. I never imagined that she would call me ever. And now I’m on the phone with her. I thought I stopped caring about her but as soon as she said her name, I got tingles in the back of my neck and butterflies in my stomach.

“How … how are you?”

“I’m sure you heard Mike died?”

“I did. I’m sorry. Were you still together?”

“No. We broke up shortly after we graduated.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. And if we stayed together I would be a widow now.”

“Well, congrats on that.” Congrats on that? Teddy, you’re a fucking moron!

“Could you grab coffee or something this afternoon?”

“Yes! I mean, that would be great. I take my lunch at 1.”

“Great! Want to meet at Magic Beans?”

“I’ll see you there.”

“Great!”

“Great!”

“OK, I’m going to hang up now.”

“Great.”

That didn’t go too bad. You said great too many times like a fucking retard but she asked you to coffee. Why does she want to have coffee with me? It has to have something to do with Mike. But what?


I left for lunch early. I didn’t want Melanie to be waiting on me. It’s so weird, I’ve waited my whole life to have a date with her and I can’t bear to make her wait a few minutes. Maybe because I’m no prize. And that’s not what this is about. She wants something.

Shit! She’s here already. And she looks great. She probably smells great too. I probably smell like death.

“Theo!” She didn’t call me Teddy. She looks like she wants to hug me. She is indeed hugging me. And she does smell good. “It’s so great to see you. You look great. How are you?”

“Great!” Shit. Stop saying great you fucking moron. “How are you?”

“I’d be lying if I said great. I just moved back in with my parents. And I need to find a job. Something with health insurance. But enough about me. How are you, besides being great?”

That’s what she wants, she heard we’re hiring. “We actually have a position opening, Mrs. Morris is retiring. And we do offer health insurance.”

“Oh my God! Really? Wow, I didn’t realize she was still alive. What is she like 90 now?”

“93.”

“Think she’s old enough to retire?” She laughs with me at her own joke.

“She did once already but she got bored and came back. They fired the girl they hired to replace her so she could have her job back.”

“So there is no job security?”

“Oh no, she’s losing her shit now so they won’t be hiring her back.”

“Did you wanna get a drink?”

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“They have other stuff.”

“I’m fine.”

‘You still haven’t told me anything about you?”

“There’s nothing really to say. Eat, work, sleep, repeat.”

“Are you married?’

“Nope.”

“Got a girlfriend?”

“Nope. What about you?”

“Never been married and never had a girlfriend.”

“I figured you married with kids by now.”

“Funny you mention kids. That’s why I asked you here. I need your help with that.”

“You want to have my kids?” That’s not what she said, Teddy!

“No. Shit! I hope I’m not freaking you out?”

“No. I just don’t understand.”

“I want to have Mike’s kid.”

“Mike is dead.”

“Which is why we need to hurry. I read that his sperm is only good for like 36 hours.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“You’re looking at me like I’m crazy.”

“That’s because you just asked me to help you steal a dead guy’s sperm.”

“Mike and I should have been together and I ruined it. He broke up with me because I had an abortion. His abortion. This is my window to make it up to him.”

“This is crazy. You’re crazy and I’m crazy for thinking I ever had a chance with you.” I have to get the fuck out of here. Where’s the fucking door?

“Theo!” She chases me outside to my car. To the hearse I drove here. “Wait! I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“What difference does it make?”

She pulls on the handle on the back of the car but it doesn’t open. “Unlock this.”

I hit the button on my keys and the doors unlocks. She swings the door open and throws me in. She pulls the door closed and climbs on top of me. She unzips my pants and pulls out my dick and it’s already hard.

“Wow” She strokes it. “What do you want me to do with it?”

“I want you to kiss me.” Her lips touch mine and I freeze. I’m making out with Melanie Dobosh! I’m making out with Melanie Dobosh in my hearse. Two fantasies combined.

Her tongue tries to force its way into my mouth but I’m still frozen. “I thought you wanted this? I thought you wanted me?” She pulls my hair and when I gasp she slips her tongue into my mouth.

My body slowly melts and soon my tongue is playing with hers.

“You’re a good kisser.”

“Don’t talk.” That was rude. “Sorry, I just think I won’t last as long if you talk.”

“OK. But do you want to be on top or me?”

“Me … No you… No me. I mean, you. Yeah, you.” She rips her panties off and crawls onto my lap and I’m already about to blow.

She guides me inside her. Her hips move nice and slow because she can probably sense I’m about to lose it. I need to think of things I hate. Cats … Cilantro … Guys playing guitars at social gatherings … Old widows … Erect dead penises … Mike’s erect dead penis.

She’s riding me harder. You’re doing good, Teddy.

“Why won’t you look at me?” She grabs my face and stares into my eyes. “Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!”

Wow, she can really fake an orgasm.

I feel hot moisture on the tip of my dick. What the fuck? “Did I …”

“No, that was me. Pull out for a second.” I obey and her juices rush out of her.

Holy shit! … Holy shit! I just made Melanie Dobosh cum. Holy shit!

“Put it back in and keep looking at me.” I do as I’m told and she bites her lip as I lift my ass off the floor and thrust harder inside her.

It doesn’t take long until I feel it. A second or two of euphoria. And I collapse on the floor.

I don’t know how long I’m lying there panting like a fat fuck who ran a block before I realize she is lying on my chest, moving up and down with each attempt to catch my breath.

My hand makes its way to a curl in her hair. She is real. This is really happening. It did happen. And I just came inside her. “I’m sorry I didn’t um …”

“Pull out?”

“Yeah.”

“I came on you, it was only fair.”

She fucked you so now you have to do it. It’s too quiet. Just tell her that you’ll do it. You can’t do it! Can you?

“Do you know how he died?” She’s looking right into my eyes. I can’t help but laugh.

She sniffs. Fuck, she’s crying.

“I guess you have to laugh since you deal with death on a daily basis?”

“That and he died from a heart attack during, you know, after taking a performance enhancing substance.”

“Shut up!” She cracks a smile and we both laugh uncontrollably.

When we stop laughing she looks into my eyes and says, “I hope you don’t think I slept with you to get what I want.”

“No-“

“I did it because I wanted to. ‘Cause you’re the first person I felt a connection with in a long time. I don’t even know why … To be completely honest, I didn’t even know who you were until you walked into the coffee shop. And I’m pretty sure my parents threw away my yearbook. But I recognized you as soon as you walked in. I think it’s your eyes I remember.”

“I did stare at you a lot during high school.” And if she didn’t think you were creepy, she does now.

“Maybe that’s it. But that doesn’t explain why I feel connected to you and not to my own parents.”

“We all grieve differently.” I want to touch her but don’t want it to feel forced.

“Do you feel connected to me?”

“As soon as you said who you were on the phone, all these teenage emotions erupted inside me.”

“And I haven’t been fucked like that since … Well, since ever.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?”

“You made me squirt. That usually only happens during my me time.”

I look at my watch to hopefully hide my bushing face. Fuck! “I really need to get back to work.”

“I’m sorry.” She reaches for the door handle.

I stuff myself back into my pants and pull my zipper up before we crawl out the door and back into the world.

“Can I ask you one more thing before you go?” God this girl loves making eye contact.

“I don’t see any harm in that.”

“Do you want kids?”

“I do … I mean, I did … I kinda gave up on the whole happily ever after.”

“I was prepared to do this alone. Like the whole thing but then that fucking phony Penny Palamino told me that you worked at the funeral home. And now that we’re reacquainted, I’m seriously rethinking the whole thing.”

“Really?”  I changed her mind.

“I thought that you could just help me get the sperm and maybe I’d toss you some cash but now I’m thinking it could be that and more. That I don’t have to do this alone. Like the whole thing … Do you get what I’m saying?”

“Did you just ask me to marry you?”

“I guess I did.”

I don’t know what to say or how long this awkward silence is really lasting. Five hours ago I was boring me who was prepared to die alone and now my first boner inducing crush just asked me to become her sperm smuggling husband.

“I’m sorry, it’s too much again, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“Is that a yes?”

Just say yes. Just fucking do it! “I don’t know.” You stupid son of a bitch! “You don’t even know me.”

“I know you just made me come harder than I’ve ever come before. I know that you have feelings for me. I know that you’ve made me feel like I’m not alone in this world.”

“What if I don’t get you the sperm?”

“I’ll be disappointed.”

“But?”

“But that doesn’t change that we have chemistry. That this morning I thought that my soul mate died … That I felt like a puzzle piece … One with a hole in it. And I thought that no one would ever fit into that hole. That maybe I was just a boring one piece puzzle. And then I remembered that baby that tried to fit into that hole but I wouldn’t let it. So I thought I could try and do it again. Me and a baby didn’t fit together then but maybe we will now …  And now I feel like maybe I have two holes in me and you fit in the other one. Maybe we’re a three piece puzzle … Or four or five.”

I hug her and I feel truly connected. It doesn’t feel forced like the hugs and touches I have to give people at work. We breathe in sync. We are crying together but only on the inside. No tears leak from our eyes. We found each other.

She eventually lets me go. “I know I’m asking a lot.” She stares into my eyes again. “Just think about it.” She leans in and kisses me and it feels so good that I decide that I’m going to do it. I’ll jerk him off with my own hand if it makes her happy.


As I drive towards the funeral home my moral compass fades back. Can I really do this? Should I do this? No one ever has to know. I’ll know.


I get back to work and Mike is there waiting for me, with his dead erection taunting me. There’s no chance that she’ll even get pregnant if I do it. She could already be pregnant with my kid. She could have already fucked up her chances. Literally. I should just give her my sperm. That’s it! She already has my sperm inside her.

I unzip my pants. She’ll never know … But I’ll know.

That Time I Live Tweeted The Movie Horns To Baby J (Spoiler Alert)

So my coworker Baby J and I are both total Harry Potter nerds as well other stuff nerds and we’ve been waiting for Joe Hill’s Horn’s to come out even though she hates snakes and the trailer shows a lot of them.

Well, the other day Joe Hill tweeted that Horns was being released on VOD before it was going to be in theaters so of course I told Baby J and planned on going right home after work and ordering it even though I’ve been exhausted from working 6 day weeks.

I told Baby J that I would let her know how snake-filled the movie is and below are the texts that we shared while I watched.

Screenshot_2014-10-05-18-28-47-picsay

Screenshot_2014-10-05-18-29-33-picsay

So,  funny story: Our coworker Roxy heard us talking and thought I said I was going home to watch “Porn.” To which Baby J replied, “Do you have to pay for it?” Which really made it sound even more like I was going home to watch porn and Baby J was excited about that.

I also passed out around the hour mark, not from boredom but from exhaustion.

I saw Baby J at work the next day and she encouraged me to continue with the texting so I did.

Screenshot_2014-10-05-18-30-49-picsay

Screenshot_2014-10-05-18-31-06-picsay

Screenshot_2014-10-05-18-31-23-picsay

Screenshot_2014-10-05-18-31-43-picsay

Screenshot_2014-10-05-18-32-06-picsay

Screenshot_2014-10-05-18-32-20-picsay

Screenshot_2014-10-05-18-32-34-picsay

Screenshot_2014-10-05-18-32-46-picsay

That was supposed to say, “Shit is getting weird” I Blame autocorrect!

Screenshot_2014-10-05-18-34-34-picsay

Screenshot_2014-10-05-18-34-57-picsay

Screenshot_2014-10-05-18-35-54-picsay

Screenshot_2014-10-05-18-36-52-picsay

Screenshot_2014-10-05-18-37-56-picsay

Screenshot_2014-10-05-18-38-05-picsay

Screenshot_2014-10-05-18-39-50-picsay

Screenshot_2014-10-05-18-40-12-picsay

Screenshot_2014-10-05-18-40-56-picsay

Screenshot_2014-10-05-18-41-39-picsay

Screenshot_2014-10-05-18-43-11-picsay

Screenshot_2014-10-05-18-44-20-picsay

Screenshot_2014-10-05-18-44-32-picsay

Screenshot_2014-10-06-18-41-10-picsay

Gone Girl (Spoiler Alert)

The Fact that Rosamund Pike showed up pregnant to the Gone Girl premiere shows how much of a perfectionist David Fincher is.

Top 20 Films

20140904_203536-picsay 20140904_203212-picsay 20140904_213840-picsay 20140904_210501-picsay 20140904_211104-picsay 20140904_212608-picsay 20140904_205829-picsay 20140904_210111-picsay 20140904_212102-picsay 20140904_213305-picsay 20140904_214640-picsay 20140904_215044-picsay 20140904_215645-picsay 20140904_220721-picsay 20140904_221306-picsay 20140904_222008-picsay 20140904_223346-picsay 20140904_224913-picsay 20140904_225424(0)-picsay 20140904_204123-picsay

Lars and the Real Girl

Having been without a car for the past week I’ve been able to catch up on some movies and TV shows that have been on my Tivo or collecting dust on my DVD shelves.

I bought Lars and the Real Girl when it first came out on DVD. I never got around to seeing it in the theater and many of my friends raved about it and told me how I would love it because it was dark and right up my alley. And then it just sat there on my shelf and was forgotten about.

After finally watching it I was surprised at how light it was. (For those of you that don’t know the story is that Ryan Gosling’s character buys a sex doll and treats her like she’s real.) It was sweet and I did really enjoy it but the one thing I can’t get over is that NO ONE FUCKS THE DOLL!

I know I’m a little late to this party but how has no one commented on this?! (Maybe they have but I couldn’t find anything in the minor amount of internet research I did on this topic.)

I was even certain that the brother was totally going to get caught fucking the doll. He went to the website, his wife was pregnant and might not have wanted to sleep with him, and he was even in charge of putting her to sleep at night. The motive was there.

I couldn’t believe that the only character that they showed looking up the doll’s skirt was another female character.

It’s like Chekhov’s gun. “If in the first act you have hung a pistol on the wall, then in the following one it should be fired. Otherwise don’t put it there.” If there’s a sex doll in your movie someone has to have sex with it! That’s the modern day Chekhov’s gun, right?

Am I the only twisted individual that feels this way? (Please tell me I’m not.)