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| MY MAN'S MOVIE |
Today was going to be a post-Mom’s Day post about my amazing Mother’s Day weekend of relaxing and hanging out solo and with friends and husbandly awesomeness and my child’s brilliant and yummy everything and the general tremendousness of all the above. Really, it was.
There was a plan to wax on and off about Dave doing everything around and in and out of the house and Otto being as good as gold bullion bicuspids and making me a crazy cute Mother’s Day card out of princess stickers (boy playing with princesses… alert the media) and yellow magic marker (my favorite color) and playing with his friends and the dads while I ate a fancy, no-kids-brunch at a hipster restaurant with some gal pals as a flock of paparazzi chased down a PREGNANT CELEBRITY who looked as pleased as a punch to the face.
There was a plan to wax on and off about Dave doing everything around and in and out of the house and Otto being as good as gold bullion bicuspids and making me a crazy cute Mother’s Day card out of princess stickers (boy playing with princesses… alert the media) and yellow magic marker (my favorite color) and playing with his friends and the dads while I ate a fancy, no-kids-brunch at a hipster restaurant with some gal pals as a flock of paparazzi chased down a PREGNANT CELEBRITY who looked as pleased as a punch to the face.
Nope, my little self-centered catch-up has changed from discussing the Hallmark Me Day weekend that I fully embraced and took advantage of, to the cool Hand Luke news that came across the wiggly wires today. My husband, my perfect ball-chaining, beer-drinking, bread-baking, homemade pasta-making, heart-stopping spouse had a really good day today in a town that prides itself on weeks and months and years of the bad shit. These long stretches of rough riding are often held together by spit, dirty Chuck Taylor shoelaces and someone else’s semen, inevitably leaving their victims barely alive or audible under a moth-eaten blanket of misplaced potential and forgotten fortune.
His badass self wrote a badass script called NO ONE LIVES and the literary creature is crawling out of its black lagoon and getting itself made! Can I get a shit yeah? It was announced in Variety today along side a photo of its hottie star, the other Cool Hand Luke and its scary-making director. READ IT HERE if you want a little horror in your show today.


5 comments:
Let the bodies hit the floor!! So exciting Dorthea. Dave was the only one that stayed up with me late one night to watch the Exorcist III in college. Hardcore!!!
Amazing!!!!! You guys deserve the success!!! xox
Woot! Congrats m'lady! May this mean tons more hipster brunches and a spanky hot new dress to rock on the red carpet! xoxox
As I too have had the most shiteous of years, I will be pondering this today:
"These long stretches of rough riding are often held together by spit, dirty Chuck Taylor shoelaces and someone else’s semen, inevitably leaving their victims barely alive or audible under a moth-eaten blanket of misplaced potential and forgotten fortune."
You fucking rock. xoxoxo
Awesome! Wonderful news. Xoxo
Hey! I know that guy's wife!!
So great, so deserved. Can I go as your date to the premier? I promise to wipe all traces of spit-up off.
XOXOXO
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