There will be no Advice Smackdown today, because I have something better to write about. And you can just suck it if you don't think it's better, because you're wrong and stupid. Plus, there are prizes!
Last we wandered into some sort of surreal, this-does-not-happen-in-actual-real-life bonanza of blog material.
It was the after-party for a screening of Meet the Fockers, brought to you by Bud Lite. At a Ruby Tuesday's.
First, okay, yes. The Amalahs were at a Ruby Tuesday's. Am ashamed. But we were only there for the cheese fries and the beer. We had other reasons for going there, all of which make such perfect sense that if I wrote them all out you'd totally be blown away by our late-night munchie logic, but I won't write them out because this post is not about me and my eating habits.
This post is about all the notes I took on a napkin. The very first thing I wrote down?
An argument had broken out at the bar regarding whether or not the cat and the dog in the movie were real or animatronic.
"Of course they were real! They looked so real! They couldn't make them so realistic if they weren't really real!"
"But there is no way they really flushed a dog down a toilet. There is just NO WAY."
"Hey, who else needs a cold and refreshing Bud Lite?"
The "party" consisted of five Bud Lite reps, two guys who may or may not have been a couple, and a group of four twentysomethings on a group date who all ordered bacon double cheeseburgers, except for one girl who got the salad bar but then ate all her boyfriend's fries.
We learned who the Bud Lite people were kind of by accident at first.
Swarmy Guy With Two Cell Phones & A Pager: So! Were you two at the movie? Wasn't it GREAT?
Amy: Um, no. We weren't at the movie.
Amy: Yeah, see, I hated Meet the Parents intensely.
Swarmy: You HATED Meet the Parents? Nobody hated Meet the Parents!
Amy: I know I'm alone in this opinion. That movie made me want to gouge my eyes out with a plastic spoon.
Swarmy: Well, you should still totally see Meet the Fockers. It was awesome!
Amy: I also hated Titanic.
Swarmy: *head explodes*
The Bud Lite people came laden with five boxes of Focker Swag, including beer coozies, keychains, T-shirts and Very Official & Authentic Movie Posters.
"That was the organizer I was just talking to, wasn't it?" I asked. "How much do I rock? Tell me that I rock."
"You are a rebel." Jason answered. "Also, I think they were expecting a few more people."
The Official Bud Lite Focking Team wandered around the sparsely populated bar for awhile, pawning off coozies that nobody wanted and trying to get everyone to talk about how great the movie was and wasn't it so great that they got to see it FIRST, and let's all raise our glasses to toast the wonderful Busch family for making this all possible and being so great.
My napkin reads: Dudes. The movie opens in THREE DAYS. You are not special. You are not a unique snowflake. Shut the fock up.
(My napkin was wrong, actually, as the movie opened today. So these people had only gotten about a 12-hour jump on the rest of the country. So my point still stands, even though I clearly need to hire a fact-checker for all future napkin journalistic efforts.)
A redheaded Bud Lite girl who was not aware that I was blaspheming the good name of one-note-joke cinema came around and gave us coozies and keychains.
Napkin: Focking swag! Woot!
After the like, six attendees left, the Bud Lite people hung out to bitch about work and drink more Bud Lite and make seventeen trips to the bathroom each. Jason and I had pretty much moved on and were having a rollicking discussion about Fight Club (a movie I did not hate), and I was congratulating myself for the "unique snowflake" reference.
But, you know. The Bud Lite people were RIGHT THERE. It was hard not to overhear their conversations. Especially since those conversations seemed to be about:
1) Strip clubs. Attending and/or working in.
2) Whether or not some boss guy had kids, and whether or not they were ugly.
3) Whether or not some boss guy's kids were actually his own, because they were not ugly.
Redhead: Doesn't some boss guy remind you of that guy? Oh shit, you know who I'm talking about. That actor who was in the movie with the 12 kids? And the one with Queen Latifah? What the hell is his name?
Poor, poor Steve Martin. I'm so sorry. You're no longer the guy from The Jerk, Roxanne, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels or even Father of the Bride, for Christ's sake. You're no longer that wild and crazy guy with the arrow on your head. You're now that guy from Cheaper by the Dozen and that movie with Queen Latifah.
I'm sorry. I know it's your own fault, but I've read both Shopgirl and The Pleasure of My Company and still love you intensely. And I would have slugged Redhead for you if Jason had let me.
Swarmy: *tries to get his icy cold draft of Bud Lite into the promotional coozie*
Amy: *a little embarassed because she already tried that, and it didn't work*
Beer: *goes everywhere*
Swarmy: Hey there, can I grab a napkin from you?
Amy: Um. No. I need it. For. Stuff.
Next, the group started talking about some photo of Redhead when she was, apparently, all decked out in Bud Lite Ho Wear for another, more interesting event.
The word "cameltoe" was overheard. We checked out. The End.
But now? I currently posess two (2) Bud Lite/Meet the Fockers beer coozies, two (2) Meet the Fockers keychains that look suspiciously like the Star Trek logo, and three (3) Very Official & Authentic Meet the Fockers Movie Posters.
And one (1) very funny napkin of notes, in near-mint condition, except for one little part that Ceiba ate.
So to thank the good people at Anheuser-Busch for providing me with such scintillating entertainment, I'd like to help create some "buzz" for this Meet the Fockers film, because I think it's really important that we support quality cinema that may otherwise be overlooked by the Hollywood marketing machine.
Your challenge is to write the funniest damn comment involving the word "Focker," which I hear may be a small source of humor in the actual movie. From time to time. Okay, in every scene. So let's pretend we wrote the script and can make wacky Focker jokes 'til the cows come home because HA! It just never gets old.
Variations are allowed, including fock, focking and fockity. The rest is up to you. Stories, haikus, historical biography -- I really don't care. You may enter more than once, within reason. (Meaning don't make a focking nuisance of yourself.) Winners will be chosen by me and Jason will help with any tiebreakers. Prizes will be awarded as follows:
Grand Prize: The Almighty Napkin which contains AT LEAST one extra bonus joke that did not make it into the final post, one movie poster (autographed wittily by me, if you'd like, unless you hope to make millions off it on eBay), one coozie and one keychain.
Second Prize: One poster, autographed by me blah blah blah eBay, and one coozie.
Third Prize: The poster thing. Again.
Honorable Mention: A keychain. And the shame of defeat.
So get ready, get set, go fock yourselves!