In Which I Ignore the Wisdom of Dooce*

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*Note: If you have been without internet for the past five million years and are unfamiliar with Dooce and the story of how she was fired on account of her blog, go to her website and read about her. In fact, go back to her very first entry and read all the way through the archives. You won't be disappointed. Unless, of course, you are immune to awesomeness. Don't forget to come back here to leave a pity comment later, though.

Tonight, I watched Braveheart for the first time in my life. Actually, I'm still in the middle of watching it, which leaves me trying to see the screen through an unsightly mixture of tears and mascara that has amassed in and around my eyeballs. As you can imagine, my mind is rather focused on savage, sword-wielding men in kilts whose accents make me want to hug people. Writing a coherent blog entry on sock monkeys? Let's just say that my poor brain would probably break if I tried.

Anyway, I am watching this movie because it happens to be Cute Tuesday Boy's favorite film.

(Aside to Cute Tuesday Boy: If you are reading this, know that you are indeed cute. You have been given a nickname on my blog in honor of your cuteness. The whole internet reveres you for it. Now don't get a big head about it.)

I am supposedly getting quizzed on the whole thing next week, but judging by how many office workers were abuzz about his presence this week, the aforementioned plans may be rudely interrupted.

(Aside to coworkers: Hi. Yes. I lose an hour's worth of work every Tuesday because I'm chatting with a boy. No, he doesn't go to our church. In fact, he doesn't go to church. I know. Time for a collective gasp. But seriously? I donate at least five or more hours of time every week, and, as long as the work is getting done, what's the issue? As I see it, I'm making a friend, and he's possibly getting over his hatred of all things church-related. Stuff it.)

As of this moment in time, I fully expect to be interrogated tomorrow as to the goings-on of Tuesday mornings. If my reason and logic are not met with respect and understanding, I'm going to hand in my notice, walk out from the office, and shout, "FREEDOM!"

Chris Magnusson

Chris Magnusson

Even after all of my life experiences (none of which involve visiting Scotland or watching any Mel Gibson movies that didn't also star Danny Glover), I still equate kilts with skirts. Not you-skirts, but women's clothing-skirts. And with Willy on The Simpsons. Sometimes I feel so limited.

Thursday's Child

Thursday's Child

You can shout freedom all you like, but they're still going to disembowel you and then draw and quarter you.

It's a tough trade, but I'm sure someone with your constitution is more than up to it.

golfwidow

golfwidow

The good news is that, once you've seen Braveheart, you can pretty well skip Gladiator. (Which I always want to spell "Glad He Ate Her" anyway, because I'm just that pervy.)

Rachelskirts

Rachelskirts

Chris Magnusson: "Not you-skirts, but women's clothing-skirts." Haha, I love it. I also generally equate kilts with womanly skirts, but they did a stellar job in Braveheart making the kilts as manly as possible and not drawing too much attention to the fact that they were even being worn.

Thursday's Child: I'll just bat my eyelashes and get off the hook.

golfwidow: I actually watched Gladiator for the first time last year with a group of my boys. I spent the whole night making references to Lord of the Rings instead of really watching the movie. (I made even more LOTR references during Braveheart, but, since I was watching the movie at home by myself, I had to shout my witty comments at various people over AIM.) Also, I am totally yoinking that "Glad He Ate Her" line from you. I'll give full credit, of course. :)