No, I didn’t misspell “grab.”
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“You Should Applaud . . . “
I was going to start by sharing some of the barrage of Daniel Craig photos I’ve been receiving lately from someone who really, really wants me to see his first two James Bond films so I’ll be prepared to see Skyfall later this year.
But instead, here’s a hilarious movie theme medley by one of my favorite a cappella groups.
Because it’s Random Thursday, that’s why:
As they say on their site, they take the music seriously, but not themselves.
I like that in a group of good-looking male singers . . .
oooooooooooooooooooOOOOOooooooooooooooooooo
Grabbing some Grub*
We were commuting home the other day and discussing the cleaning of rooms and other chores, when Janie said, in a thoughtful way, “Maybe I should just run away from home, instead.”
“Okay,” I said. “That means your room will stay clean and I don’t have to pack your lunch every day.”
“But where will I go?” she asked, putting a dramatic hand to her forehead. “Will I have to live on the street? What will I eat on the street?”
A little voice from behind me said, “You could eat grubs.”
“Hey!” I said. “That’s a great idea, Sunny. Your father is worried about all the moles tearing through our lawn. If Janie eats all the grubs, they’ll move away!”
“But (sniff), I don’t want to starve the moles (sob) ! “
I looked at Janie in the rearview mirror. “That’s what you got from that?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I was expecting more of a reaction to the grub thing. Do you know what a grub is?”
Long pause. “Not really, no.”
I told her.
“EEEEEEEEEWWWWWwwwwwwwwwwww! Ugh, ugh, ugh, yuck, yucky!!!! Moooooo-ooooooom!! I can’t believe you want me to eat those squishy—Ugh!”
“Honey, no one is going to force you to eat gru—”
“Nooooo!! Don’t even say it!”
“Okay, okay, calm down. And lower the volume, please, ow.”
Small voice from the back. “Grub.”
“Eeewww!”
“Grub.”
“Eeewwww!”
“Grub.”
“Guh! Stop it, Sunny! And quit poking me!”
“Janie, calm down, please,” I said. “Sunny, quit torturing your sister . . . And keep your grubby hands to yourself.”
“Moooo-oooom!”
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Real Grub, Julia Style**
In honor of Julia Child’s birthday this month, the family saw Julie and Julia, which is based on a book I read a while ago.
The best parts of the book and the movie for me—and for Janie, who is addicted to Food Network, much to the bored exasperation of her little sister, who is addicted to Phineas and Ferb*** —are all about Julia:
I love melodysheep’s work . . .
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Okay, maybe one photo of Daniel Craig
This one—the first of several—arrived in an e-mail called, “Six reasons to see Casino Royale“:
No insult to Mr. Craig, but I’m not seeing six abs.
And believe me, I counted very, very carefully.
Several times. With a magnifying glass.
But it still worked—I’m planning to see Casino Royale tonight.
Though Quantum of Solace might take a few more photos . . .
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And now, your moment of Savasana
Clear your mind of Daniel Craig all thoughts . . .
(courtesy of my husband, the yōgger, who has encountered the impatient woman before, but won’t admit anyone snores in his class)
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*See? Told you.
**I know calling Julia Child’s lifework ‘grub’ is like calling Michelangelo’s work on the Sistine Chapel ‘kitschy ceiling art,’ but I’m trying to work a theme here, so . . .
***There was no mix-up at the hospital, folks. They’re both mine.
Earful of Cider 