Well guess who decided to go to the movies with the Hubs and me over the weekend? As if it's difficult to figure out, considering the aptly named title of this post. Yep, it was my psychotic friend, Mr. Murphy, who clearly had nothing better to do.
Now I should have known what the weekend might have in store for me, after waking up on Friday morning completely nauseated, and yet heroically trying to convince myself that I was not going to throw up because I had to baby-sit and I had to get groceries that night and a million other mom-like-things to do. [And yes, I realize that is one seriously pathetic run-on sentence but I'm too
lazyhyper-focused on this blog post to fix it.] But within 5 minutes of standing upright I knew that whatever was down was going to be coming back up in relatively short order. So, I dashed to the closest vomit receptacle, cleverly disguised as a toilet, and took care of business. And being that I'm never one to do things half way, I took care of business a second time.
Needless to say, all my plans for Friday were flushed down the vomit receptacle as well, and I spent all day in bed. And I do mean, ALL DAY. I slept for a total of 10 hours between 6am and 4pm, and then fell back to sleep at 7:30pm. I don't appreciate the stomach flu, Mr. Murphy. Just sayin.
After enduring Murphy's melee on Friday, I was surprised to feel relatively good on Saturday when I got up. So I decided I was going to see Red Riding Hood, which the Hubs had already promised to take me to see. After surviving that stomach bug, I was sure that Mr. Murphy would leave me alone. Reasonable expectation, one would think.
But it didn't take too long to realize I wasn't getting off that easy. The Hubs and I decided we'd go potty before the movie started, because who wants to do the ass shimmy and shake to get out of a row of movie theater seats in the middle of a movie to go to the bathroom? Let's face it, whether you are on the giving or receiving end of the ass shimmy and shake, it ain't fun. So the Hubs went his way and I went mine and I took care of business.
But as I reached up to the dispenser so that I could finish my business, the horror of realization hit me.
There's no toilet paper.
And there was no one on either side of me in the bathroom to come to my rescue with a few random squares of toilet paper either. So I had to do a different kind of ass shimmy and shake in a pathetic attempt to finish my business, sans tissue. Clearly, Mr. Murphy likes to follow people to movie theater bathrooms too. All I can say is it's a damn good thing it was only a number one situation, if you know what I mean.
I made my way back to the Hubs, who'd gotten our snacks, and we grabbed our seats in the theater. I shared my toilet paper terror with the Hubs and he just kind of rolled his eyes. He clearly has no idea how lucky he is that he can pee standing up. I mean, seriously, if they can't appreciate that gift, they don't even deserve to have it.
But anyhoots, the previews got rolling so I settled in to enjoy the flick and to start eating my salty soft pretzel, my favorite movie theater snack. And there it was again. Murphy's Law. Right inside my "soft" pretzel, which wasn't soft at all. It was actually almost hard. Who the hell wants a hard soft pretzel, I ask you?! Really, Murphy. Really? The stomach bug and the missing T.P. weren't enough? You had to sabotage my salty soft pretzel too? Is there no end to your sadistic madness? Sigh.
So in case you've lost count, that's Murphy--3, Tina--0.
On the plus side, Red Riding Hood was pretty darn good. If that movie had sucked, Mr. Murphy would now be on my hit list. Or at least, as my Nana used to say, my shit list.
