Why We'll Never Eat at Chili's Again

We finally got our date last night, having been paid recently. Dinner and a movie. We absolutely love the Mesquite BBQ Sirloin and mashed potatos with black pepper gravy. It is so good that it's worth going to Chili's to get it. Chili's (at least in Cedar City) has the worst service and atmosphere in the world. Outrageously so. Every time we eat there, I vow to never never return. It takes the waiters 20 minutes to bring you a box. 20 minutes to bring you the check. 20 minutes to take your order. It is dark and dim and they seat everyone too close together. They usually make us sit at these tiny two-person tables that have so much stuff on them, (20 coasters, fat menus that stay on the table, salt/pepper, etc.) there's hardly room to reach across and hold hands (which we tend to do when we can't sit on the same side). I hate eating at Chili's. But their food is so good. Dilemma. We've recently been contemplating getting their food to go from now on.

But, last night, we broke down and went. (I think they put a chemical in that steak that makes you crave it fort-nightly!) We went in, were rudely seated, rudely treated and...what?? What's this?? Where is my Mesquite BBQ Sirloin?? Where is the only reason we came here in the first place?? That's right, they took it OFF the MENU. That's it, that's the kicker. That is why we will never eat there ever again, and why you shouldn't either.

The Movie Collection Embarkment of 2008: 12 Angry Men

12 Angry Men

made in 1957

not rated

Justin: 12 Angry Men is the perfect example to show that films aren't made like they used to be. If some executive today approached a writer and said, "I want an entire movie to take place in one room and it has to be compelling, and interesting and not forever and two days long," would this writer succeed? Not a chance. 12 Angry Men is so well written that you can't believe they can make such a brilliant movie without ever having to change the scenery or the characters. It works so well that by the time the movie is over, it feels like it just started. I can't find enough words to describe how fantastic this film really is. Everybody should watch this movie, I can't imagine somebody being disappointed. 5 large stars.

Jesse: What sustains a movie that takes place almost entirely in one room? Only the genius writing. No naked women or fiery explosions, just suspense-building wit. An intricate plot unravels through 12 distinctly round "angry" characters and their often volatile conversations. Henry Fonda is one of the most interesting and accomplished actors and in 12 Angry Men he plays one of the most interesting characters. Quiet and calculating in the beginning, he soon reveals his intelligence and strength. ***** They don't make movies like this one anymore.

"Mawage. Mawage is wot bwings us togeder tooday."

5 Reasons Why Being Married Sucks!

1. Your cost of living doubles.

2. You're no longer included on your parents very nice health insurance coverage.

3. Everyone bugs you to start having babies.

4. One of you has to learn how to cook.

5. Someone is always there.

5 Reasons Why Being Married Rocks!

1. Your income doubles!

2. You can get insurance when you're old and actually need it.

3. You and your spouse can decide not to have babies for as long as you want, no matter how much they beg for more grandkids.

4. You can eat out every night!

5. Someone's always there!

I have an announcement to make.

After 1 year, 2 months, and 11 days, and six hours, and six minutes, I finally got my name changed officially with the government. (I've been a Betts in my heart.) I was going to post proof (pictures of my new Social Security Card and Driver's License) but that didn't seem too safe, so you'll just have to take my word. :) Farewell, Jesse Kay Laws, you no longer exist.

The Movie Collection Embarkment of 2008: Anastasia

Anastasia

made in 1997

rated G

Jesse: Dimitri was the first cartoon character that I fell in love with. It was only later I realized it is John Cusack's sexy voice. All the better. Favorite scene: When Bartok returns the gift from the dark forces to Rasputin in Limbo. Rasputin sings In the Dark of the Night with multi-colored bugs, while various body parts fall off. Very creepy, lots of green (which means evil). I give this movie ****.

Justin: I don't know why I had never seen this movie before. It is very funny and contains the very funny John Cusack. If I were gay (which I am not by the way, I promise) I would fall in love with him, too. He is so funny in all his movies. Especially Better Off Dead and Say Anything and High Fidelity. Oh yeah, Anastasia was good too. The movie works because every time Dimitri isn't on screen, Bartok is. Those two make a great formula for a great cartoon. I give this movie 4 big stars (out of 5).

The Movie Collection Embarkment of 2008

Dear Family, Friends, Random readers of this blog:
Justin and I are embarking on an immense task. We decided it was time to show our movie collection the appreciation it deserves, and watch it. All of it. Those of you who know us best will realize the magnitude of this endeavor without explanation. For those of you who don't know us very well, we have a buttload of movies and it's going to take freaking forever to watch them all, especially since we are only watching one a week. Then we are going to post our reviews, and a rating of stars, on this here blog. (note that sequels, prequels, sets, and trilogies will all be watched in the same week, but will be reviewed separately for their individual value and posted all together. We keep it nice and tidy.) Although most of the time our opinions correlate with each other, every once in a while we disagree, and that's when it gets fun. So, enjoy.

Star Rating System (just like Netflix):

* Hated It
** Didn't Like It
*** Liked It
**** Really Liked It
***** Loved It

In my opinion, the best concert you can hope to attend

The best band in history, The Beatles, only played in Vegas one time. It was in the Sahara Theater in the Sahara Hotel & Casino. I was born in 1984, long after The Beatles had stopped being a band, but I swear I was there.

Justin and I get there way early, mostly because of his thing where he has to be, not only on time, but early everywhere. The doors aren’t even open yet. I impatiently squeeze his hand and drink most of the soda we are supposed to share. We study other fans that are milling as well, waiting to get inside and take their seats. We whisper to each about their funny outfits or expressions, not to be mean or cruel but just to enjoy their character and uniqueness.

Those two big blue doors finally open and we are the first ones inside. A single usher looks at our tickets and shows us to our seats, calmly asking everyone else in line to wait until he comes back. Justin and I watch people, from all walks of life, file in and sit down. Most stop off at the bar to get drinks. The drink glasses have lights in the bottom, which slowly cycles through colors. A light green melts into blue and blue melts into red. It makes the drinks psychedelic. Justin finishes the soda in the bottom of our plastic cup and lets go of my hand to set it on the concrete floor.

As the theater begins to fill, they play music over the speakers, most of which I’ve never heard before. I lean on Justin’s shoulder, listening to the melodies and trying to be patient. A woman sits beside me and she smells old, like mothballs and wet newspaper. She’s wearing a bright red flowered silk shirt, black capri jeans, and gold sandals. Her husband is heavy and balding. They are just as excited as we are. Her gold jewelry jangles as she reaches up to smooth her black hair back. Her husband leaves to get drinks.

“I bet we’re the youngest people in here,” Justin says in my ear. I look around.

“I think you’re right,” I whisper, but I notice excitement throbbing from everyone in the theater, even the old fogies.

There are Beatles facts scrolling across two huge screens on either side of the stage like, “The Beatles had 21 number 1 singles in the US and 17 in the UK,” and “Both the 1964 single Can’t Buy Me Love and the self-titled album in 1968 sold 2 million copies within the first week,” and “73 million viewers—approximately 40% of the US population at the time—tuned in to watch the Beatles perform at the Ed Sullivan Show on February 9, 1964.” Justin reads each one to me. We talk about the ones we already knew and the ones that are fresh news. There is anticipation buzzing over our heads. Overhead lights dim and the babble quiets a little. People start turning the lights on the bottom of their glasses off, making the venue slip slowly into darkness.

The curtain is still lowered when Ed Sullivan walks out on stage in front of it. The talking turns to whispers and then to silence. Ed is wearing a dark green suit and shiny black shoes. His hair is perfectly parted on one side and slicked down and back. He appears to be squinting out at us, his eyes tight but sparkling. His posture is distinctively him but it still looks awkward from where I’m sitting, about 15 rows back. His shoulders are hunched way up to his cheeks, making his neck disappear, like a dark green turtle waiting halfway in its shell. He nods to the audience with his entire upper body before speaking.

“I’d like to welcome you all to the show,” Ed says, his voice easily projected in the small theater venue, but show sounds like shew, “and we’ve got a great shew for you all tonight. The Beatles are here.” As Ed speaks, his body awkwardly shimmies a little, his shoulders swishing back and forth. He waits for the clapping to dispel, and then the curtain starts to rise and overwhelming sound emits from behind it.

Suddenly, I’m staring at my favorite band, The Beatles, like I never thought I would be able to. Ringo, George, Paul, and John. They’re all here and they immediately start singing Love Me Do. The audience is almost singing over Paul, as they sing along. I’m clinging to Justin, in awe. I glance at him for a second and his eyes are wide in surprise.

I love the young bowl haircuts and the nicely tailored matching suits. When the song ends, Paul leans into the microphone to welcome us all, “well, hello everybody, it’s really nice to see you all,” in the British accent that makes the girls swoon. His hair is thicker than the other Beatles, and it swoops back in curls.

George is playfully waving and smiling and nodding into the crowd, like he knows us personally. As he plays guitar in songs like 8 Days a Week and I Want to Hold Your Hand, he is constantly moving his feet in a light dancing motion; it’s like an automatic twitch.

Even later, when they come out on stage with long Jesus hair and they’re wearing multi-colored suits that look high, they are all still ubiquitously The Beatles. During Twist, they implore us all to get up and dance. I think I enjoy watching a white-haired old man in a brown suit sway stiffly back and forth in the row in front of us more than I enjoy twisting myself.

Next thing I know, we are all settling down for the sweet and sincere Yesterday, which Paul sings all alone, just him and his guitar. As I’m listening, I can’t believe the song was originally supposed to be titled Scrambled Eggs. The concert is blurring by, songs I’ve known and loved are suddenly alive with meaning.

I’m staring at The Beatles and yet, I know today is February 16, 2008. John Lennon was murdered on the street in 1980. George Harrison died of cancer in 2001. Ringo Starr and Paul McCartney are retired, their faces much older and lined now. That must mean I’m looking into the past.

I’m actually watching The Fab Four, four guys who have made a career out of impersonating The Beatles. They play here, the only venue The Beatles played at in Vegas, every night of the week. Justin and I stumble out of the Sahara Theater, still drunk on nostalgia.

But there’s that image that keeps coming back to me. It’s John Lennon, in a white suit with bell-bottom pants, sitting at a piano singing Imagine:

You may say I'm a dreamer

But I'm not the only one

I hope someday you'll join us

And the world will be as one


And then, suddenly, breaking character for a minute, the Lennon impersonator stops playing. He talks about how John Lennon was his hero, and how he’s blessed to sing his songs. The audience is connected for those few moments. Streams of pure energy flow like electricity through us all.

When we get home late and cold we hurriedly slip into bed, and I can still feel it. The energy zipping through everyone in the room and the understanding about the songs seems crystal clear. Justin drapes his heavy arm over me and immediately slips into sleep, dreaming of John’s wild hair and purple glasses, hopefully.