Movie Titles, Many Martinis, and Too Strange To Not Be True

I was hanging out over at Kari's Snark Fest and she had some movie quotes in her latest blog entry, which made me think of one of my favorite lines.

Know where this one is from?

"Dan, I won't be ignored!"

* * * * * * *

And later, I'll be blogging about how I missed cracking my side rearview mirror off my minivan as I backed out of my garage, and instead, got the front whole panel of my headlight to crack and fall off. What a trade-off.

And no, I wasn't drunk, but quite possibly hung over.

Three applemartinis followed a cosmo. And I wake up at 5 a.m. with a raging headache, and think I may have to puke. I hate puking, but then in my strange mind, I think, "Well, if I puke, it'll at least make Blaire happy!" (For those of you new to Manic Mom, Blaire is a faithful reader who loves my puke stories, and if she had/has a website, I'd link her here but I don't think she does.)

Now, who said, "Dan, I won't be ignored?" And no, my husband's name is not Dan.

* * * *

Oh, and I forgot one more really, really crazy thing. So, I picked up Diva from a friend's house and their dog attacked me and was licking my hand and yes, I think that's particularly gross, but I'm smiling and saying, "Nice doggy," cuz it is a nice doggy but I didn't want it dry-humping and licking me at that particular moment.

I was also wearing an all-black track suit because I'm feeling very fat, oh, and I just got my hair colored and IT IS SO FREAKING DARK AND RED AND MY KIDS ARE LIKE, "You look different mom." So, I'm not feeling exceptionally beautiful, or even lookable these days. Ajers even commented to me, "Mom, why are you trying to be Goth?"

I guess that's better than, "Mom, why are you trying to look like an old lady?"

Anyway... I leave the house with the horny dog and realize I've got dog hairs, long blonde dog hairs, all over my track suit, and that's just not doing much for my attempted Goth look. I'm taking the kids out for lunch and to B&N and on our way out of our neighborhood, I see my friend, Homecoming Queen has her garage door open. I tell the kids this will just take a minute and I pull into her driveway and dial up her number. Am I that lazy that I just can't get out of the car and ring the bell?

Homecoming Queen answers and just as I say, "Do you have a lint brush?" her garage door opens and I see her daughter pop out.

Guess what she is holding in her hand at that very freaking moment? Guess where Homecoming Queen and her daughter had just been? Guess why they were out and had just returned home from Target?

They Just Went Out Specifically To Buy A Lint Brush.

Her daughter was HOLDING A LINT BRUSH IN HER HAND the ABSOLUTE VERY MOMENT I DECIDED THERE WAS TOO MUCH DOG HAIR ON MY GOTH-LOOKING COVER-THE-FAT-ASS TRACK SUIT AND WAS DRIVING RIGHT BY THEIR HOME AT THAT VERY SECOND.

I could have stopped at any number of neighbor's homes, but something deep inside willed me, actually steered my car, the one with the missing headlamp, straight into the fate of the magical lint brush.

It's a sign. I don't know exactly WHAT kind of sign it is, but it's a sign nonetheless.

I think I better go buy a lottery ticket.

And a lint brush of my own.