The Barber is Dethroned. For Once.

I know I don't need to remind my vast readership of my passionate love for All Things Depp. I've been listening to Sweeney Todd in the van so much that the kids know most of the words. They each have their favorite songs.

Pie likes Ladies in their Sensitivities (Excuse Me, My Lord, May I request, My Lord, Permission, My Lord, to Speak...), Tito likes Pirelli's Miracle Elixir (That's what did the trick, Sir, true, Sir, true...), and Beebie likes By The Sea (Wouldn't that be Smashing...). Personally, I'm fond of Epiphany; so wrought with palpable angst.

There's something deliciously demented about driving my kids around Suburbia in an innocuous-looking minivan, singing merrily about slicing people's throats and encouraging one another to Try the Priest. Hey, at least I wait until I'm alone to play NWA - Straight Outta Compton. That's how this gangsta rolls. A soccer mom, I'm just NOT. Suck it, bitches.

And because this Soundtrack includes not only my Beloved Mr. Depp, but also my equally (if not more) beloved Mr. Rickman, it goes without saying that for a CD to dethrone the Sweeney Todd Soundtrack as my driving CD of choice, it would have to be pretty effin amazing.

My new driving CD is the soundtrack from the movie Once. Oh, my friends, if you have not seen this movie, you simply must. I bought the soundtrack within an hour of watching the movie. I don't want to tell you anything about it, but it's a sweet romantic story and I absolutely loved it. Seeing Once was the highlight of an otherwise rather dull week. Oh, and I got a new vacuum but I don't like it because it's too bloody loud, but that's pretty much it.

Last Wednesday night I had to go to Beeb's junior high, which she won't attend until fall (I hate having to think about August when it's only January, don't you?) and get her all registered and whatnot, and when I entered the cafeteria for the presentation, I saw three of the moms from the ill-fated Daisy Troop Puppet Regime - and you really should read that story if you're unfamiliar with it - and I instantly cast myself into Inferiority Mode.

That Daisy Troop debacle may just hang around my neck forever. And ok, I know it's my own choice and I should get over it, and at an intellectual level, I know that maybe they've moved on and I'm the only one who cares, but I can still feel the weight of it sitting on my shoulder like a parrot, squawking to the world how stupid I am, er, was. And kind of still am. I can run, but I can't hide from the constant reminders. So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past. Yeah. That's my life in a nutshell.

One of the former Daisy Troop moms is Mrs. Aldi's sister, and I actually like her all right. She was without question the mom who was the nicest to me during the Daisy Troop Era. But she always looks exhausted and sad. Perhaps if I sit next to her, I'll look stunning. I'll give it a try next time I leave the house in my pajamas and slippers and my hair in rollers.

The other two women were the wife of this really hot guy who teaches at another school - I'm pretty sure she thought I was flirting with her husband, and in fairness, I was - and her friend who wears way too much eye makeup and talks like the late Suzanne Pleshette. Thank GOD I didn't see Dr. Eyeball. Cuz I guarantee she would have cornered me and it would not have been a pretty sight.

Oh, and while I'm thinking about creepy people, I got an odd phone message from Camille's mom Margie (she's the sweetest person in the world, love her to death, she's just really INTENSE - remember?) that went like this: Hi, Sarah, it's Margie, Camille's mom... I have a question for you, and it's kindof weird... can you give me a call back either before 5 tonight or tomorrow morning between 9 and 11? Thanks!

First of all, she's already weird and any question from her would also be weird, and I think she has a sense of what would qualify by MY standards of weird (which would have to be pretty fuckin whacked-out, bat shit crazy, let's be honest), so for her to preface the entire thing by letting me know that she had a weird question for me was extreeeeeemely unsettling.

And the reason why she gives me such a specific window in which to return her call is because they have neither call waiting nor voice mail. Not even a plug-in answering machine. Seriously, when you hear a busy signal or when the phone rings nine times without a machine picking up, don't you just want to scream What century is this????

And it frustrates the fuck outta me because I'm a little freaked that maybe the question she has for me is something like "Hey, do you have a blog in which you call my daughter Camille? I was doing a search for Joey Lawrence Bulge and I found this Behold My Brilliance thing..." For some reason my blog gets hits for Joey Lawrence Bulge all the time. I don't even want to know.

I'm also afraid that she'll con me into watching her kids or something, but then again, I figure if she doesn't have call waiting or a fuckin answering machine, she probably doesn't have DSL either, so I'm probably safe, but I'm still not calling her. I can selectively use the excuse that I tried calling and nobody was home or the line was busy.

But anyway, so I got Beeb hooked up with all her classes, and she has decided to play in the band. I am sincerely hoping that "This one time... at Band Camp..." will stop playing in my head, especially since her instrument is the (ahem) Flute.

Oh, I thought of another thing I did this week. Inspired by the Sexy Snape video I posted for you, I decided to watch Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, with Mr. Rickman as the evil Sheriff of Nottingham. I remember thinking he was wicked sexy even back then, when I saw it in a theater. But this time through I felt that there was an appalling lack of Sheriff scenes in the film.

I went ahead and bought myself Mesmer, so if you were thinking of surprising me with it, too late. Perhaps on my first Mommy Monday Morning (starting next week - woo hoo!!), I'll spend some time alone with Mr. Rickman, a bottle of Peach Schnapps, and the B.O.B. I like to call El Diablo. Someday I'll give y'all the specs on El Diablo, but just to give you an idea, you could probably club a baby seal to death with that thing. And if that's TMI, well, sorry.

UPDATE: In a bitterly ironic twist, as I was typing this, Margie called to invite me and the Apes over to hang out today, since all the kids are off of school today. I was kinda looking forward to a leisurely lunch, so I managed to push the agreed-upon meeting time to 1:00 instead of NOW, which works out fabulously because Margie needs to go to work this evening and she'll be kicking us out at 4pm at the latest, giving me time to decompress (and one needs to after an afternoon with Margie) before R gets home. God, I'm so glad I minimized that shit.

But the question remains, was "Would you guys like to come over to play?" the weird question she had for me? Cuz I kinda doubt it. And now my mind is abuzz with the possibilities. GAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!