2006-07-12 - 9:07 p.m.
Thank you, my little Roger Eberts, for all the wonderful comments and insights on movies to watch and to avoid. I will inform the management, Mr. Buddy and Ms. SweetPea, of your suggestions and see if I can persuade them to compromise and revise their list:
1) BENJI! BENJI! BENJI! BENJI! MOMMA, PUT BENJI ON AGAIN!
2) OOOOOH! WHITE FANG! MOMMA, WHILE YOU'RE UP, GET US SOME BISCUITS, PLEEEEEASE?
3) YO, MOM! THROW US THAT CHEESE WRAPPER AND POP ON MILO AND OTIS. HURRY!
4) YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD BE GOOD WITH THIS HOT DOG JUICE, MOMMA? BEETHOVEN! YEAH YEAH YEAH!
5) HEY MOMMA? MOMMA! ONCE I FINISH MY SQUIRTS ON THE CARPET, CAN WE WATCH THE INCREDIBLE JOURNEY? PUT THE MOVIE ON BEFORE YOU RUN TO THE STORE FOR MORE PAPER TOWELS! WE'RE OUT OF BISCUITS TOO, BY THE WAY.
Just in case they decide to overthrow my suggestions, I'll make sure I tell them that "Walk the Line" is actually about squirrels and telephone poles.
That should buy me about a half hour before they become suspicious ("Momma, where are the squirrels?") and I should be able to hold them off another 15-20 minutes with "just wait...they're coming, I promise. Want some biscuits?" and hopefully they'll fall asleep 10 minutes after that, and when I turn off the TV and head to bed an hour later, they'll inevitably wake up, and I'll say "Oh darlings. You missed the squirrels! You were so tuckered out from eating all those biscuits."
I am devious. PURE EVIL. And one day, they will chew my face off for it.
Unless, of course, I protect myself by packing a DVD of "Where the Red Fern Grows" at all times, which has the power to turn every being on earth into a blubbering mess, including pit bulls, serial killers, sharks, and Judge Judy.
Since I don't happen to have a copy on me at the moment, I'd better get some hot dog juice ready for the gribble-n-woof twins before they wake up from their nap.
*tip-toeing into kitchen*
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