The Brit has died and gone to heaven

So, one of the things that I love about The Brit (and by “love” I mean “can’t comprehend anymore than I can comprehend why it is that I have more ass than I know what to do with and yet not nearly big enough boobs”) is that he adores, ADORES, movie scores and soundtracks. And by “adores” I mean…

He can tell you exactly what part of which Lord of the Rings movie corresponds to the part in the score when the flutes swell and the cymbals crash. (In case you’re wondering, it’s the part when Viggo Mortensen, that delicious hunk of man-meat, makes out with Liv Tyler. That slut.)

He can identify the composer for just about any movie before the opening credits are half-through. And when he does, he proceeds to tell you every other movie that composer did the music for. Which is useful information. You know, in case Jeopardy calls.

He considers it fun to watch movie trailers and guess which movie score they borrowed the music from to make the trailer. And when he figures it out, he shouts it out as if the correct answer was the only thing between him and a million dollars in prize money.

He considered moving down to LA to pursue a career in movie sound but just couldn’t bring himself to get the size double D breast implants and gossamer blond hair extensions that one needs to fit in down there. That’s my boy. True to himself.

He’d probably willingly give up beer for the rest of his days if it meant that the score of Star Wars could be the soundrack of his life. This is saying a lot, for his love of beer runs as deep as the force is strong within Luke Skywalker.

Anyway, the reason why I’m even mentioning this is because we’ve got tickets to go to The Brit’s real live Wet Dream tonight. In other words, we’ve got tickets to go to a symphony that is performing “Music from the Big Screen.” Don’t look at me! I didn’t buy them for him! Vinja did! THANKS Vinja! (And by “thanks” I mean, “What in God’s name were you THINKING??”*) So anyway, you’ll understand why I’m considering catheterizing The Brit’s urinary bladder and attaching a collection bag to his leg, since he would otherwise run the very sizable risk of wetting himself from the excitement of it all if I don’t. And besides, this way he can drink all the beer he wants at intermission and won’t have to get up for a potty break!

* Dramatized for humorous purposes. Really, thanks. Very sweet of you to get him a gift that he really will enjoy. And then talk about excitedly. Nonstop. For the next several months. Thanks.

Note: While I truthfully do not share The Brit's love of movie scores, I do enjoy seeing him enjoy them. It's like watching a kid on Christmas morning. Every time we go to the movies. Which makes movies that much more fun. And by "fun" I mean "dorky." Just kidding. Fun. Really.