Sweating Like a Hog Does Not Make You Smell Like Bacon

I hate to say this, but I am really glad the weekend is over. I worked my butt off the entire time (see? it's gone!), and that's just not what weekends are supposed to be about. Where is the rest? Where is the relaxation? Where's the cabana boy bringing me drinks? Granted, my nephew did mow my lawn for me, but I was helping my mother at the time, so I still didn't get to lounge around in front of the air conditioner. What is this world coming to?

It was 100+ degrees every day. I spent Friday night cleaning up my uncle's log cabin he's building, wiping everything down so the floors could be painted. The guys were using a grinder to get the excess concrete off the basement floor, so by the time I came back upstairs, my skin was like Michael Jackson's and my hair was completely white. I bet that does wonders for my lungs. By the time I'm 40, I'll probably be dragging an oxygen tank around with me, gasping for air, and telling about those wild days of my youth when nobody wore dust masks.

Since I spent the rest of my free time on Friday night and Saturday being my maternal unit's indentured servant (mo' tea, suh?), I was ready for a break by Saturday night. I could just see in her eyes that she had made a list of jobs for me, and she was checking it twice. But just then my sister offered to treat me to the movie, so we bolted out of there like Bobby Brown running from a drug dog.

So here's my mini-review of War of the Worlds: I know that it was supposed to be serious and frightening. However, for his next movie, I might suggest that Spielberg find himself a boom operator that isn't drunk. It's hard to remain focused on the terror of tissue-spurting aliens when you're counting the times that the boom is in the frame (I lost count at 6 because I was laughing too hard). But the family aspect was pretty accurate, as least in regards to my own family: dad's a deadbeat who never sees his kids, son is a teenage rebel with a chip on his shoulder and an ugly haircut, and the youngest is a smartmouth, screaming little girl who is so annoying you're tempted to reach down her throat and remove her vocal cords. Oh wait, I was the youngest in the family... Ok, so it wasn't exactly like my family. The action and Tim Robbins' character almost made me forget that Tom Cruise is crazy. All in all, I'd give it a 3 out of 5 stars. Not as good as the book, but at least Jessica Simpson wasn't in it. It was okay, but I probably won't watch it again. ETA: At least not very soon. And I did like Tom's portrayal of the dad who is not much of an adult himself.

Sunday morning we were on the way to church in another town. As we're pulling into town, my sister mentions that we were asked to help the lady move whose husband just died. Umm, that information might have been more useful to me before I left the house without old clothes. They had made other plans so they couldn't stay, but I talked my nephew into staying with me and helping them. So from 12:30 to 6:00, I moved enough boxes of crap for three families...in high heels and a skirt. The first U-Haul wasn't big enough, so it had to be unloaded and everything was reloaded into a bigger one. I'm still amazed that two people could have so much stuff in such a small space. And they had sold all the big furniture except for the beds! Every time I would think we were close to done, they would open the door to another room. How many fabric remnants do you need? Why are we packing up expired license plates? And why in God's name do you have a head cheese slicer?

As we were finishing up loading the truck, the lady's son-in-law walked up to us. "So, how long have you two been married?" I looked to my right and left to see who he was talking about. And there I saw my nephew, whose look of horror masked my own. "Umm, we're not married. That's my nephew, and he's only 14." My nephew just muttered a "Jeez!" under his breath and made a quick exit. I realize this guy was from South Carolina, but for crying out loud! I was left to ponder how on earth you would mistake him for an adult. Yes, he's a head taller than me, but I have the height of Verne Troyer, so that doesn't really count. Great googly-moogly.

After we left, I decided to reward Sheldon's hard work, since he wouldn't have had to stay. So I took him to see Mr. and Mrs. Smith. My second mini-review: Go see it. Great action, humor, interesting plot. Excellent sarcasm - I was sold in the first five minutes. Plus, it has the beautiful Brad Pitt in it and the talented (IMO) Angelina Jolie. And Vince Vaughn is absolutely hilarious. In one of the parts that, according to an interview, he ad-libbed, my nephew was laughing so hard he nearly choked to death on his popcorn. Sure, there's going to be parts that some people are going to say, "They can't really do that!" But I go to movies for a break from reality, so I don't mind that. Oh, and be sure to look at Adam Brody's shirt. Funny stuff.

Tomorrow, I promise I'll talk about something more interesting. But it's Monday. You get what you pay for.