Five Things on Friday - Can I Have a Writer, Please Edition

Last night, Brynna had her annual school concert. I didn't do this when I was a kid (we had plays, yo) so I'm not sure if this is a universal concept. For those uninitiated among my loyal scions, each grade has a night and all the parents are dragged into the gym to listen to the second (in this case) grade sing songs they've learned in music class. I suppose this is so we'll keep appreciating our arts funding, but frankly, I think a nice art show with canapes would be more enjoyable. 

In any case, it's typically sort of hilarious. Don't get me wrong, I love my kid and I think she's super-spiffy. For instance, she was (by far) the prettiest and most talented kid there last night. The other side of that, though, is that approximately 120 second graders sang West African tribal music. 

In any case, The Ex came and as you can imagine, we haven't spent a great deal of time just hanging out lately. So, being shoved into each other's personal space on the world's smallest bleachers could have been a pretty miserable experience. So, I did what I always do when I expect things are going to be uncomfortable - I make jokes no one but me gets.

At one point, I leaned over and said, "Oooh. Look. She has my rhythm." This was supposed to be funny. Because she had not once clapped at the right time - the entire second grade was clapping on beat and my kid - who was the prettiest, smartest one there - was clapping on the off beat. Perfectly and without variation. See, it's cute. Self-deprecating without being self-pitying. 

Only it fell flat. He looked at me with great pity and Papaw jumped to Brynna's defense, telling me how talented she is. Ooookay.

And it got me to thinking - what I really need is a Hollywood screen writer to follow me around and feed me lines that are more universally funny than my random sense of humor. And then, I laughed out loud, germane to nothing around me as I thought about walking around all the time with some guy in a plaid shirt and ripped jeans, following me around with a cigarette in one hand and a coffee cup in the other, telling me what to say. 

This has been an inordinately long intro to say that writers write the best lines. Here are

Five Funny Lines Written by Writers Writing

1.  Here's the deal: I'm not easy to get along with, and I'm sensing you're a bit of a bitch. Tallahassee, Zombieland. What's great about this line is that it is simultaneously mean and blaming yourself. You know, it's kinda you, but it's mostly just my inability to deal with you. 

2. Bren: What is your job title exactly? 
    Ultrasound Technician: I'm an ultrasound technician, ma'am. 
    Bren: Well, I'm a nail technician and I think we both ought to just stick to what we know.

Juno. How many times have you wanted to tell someone to just shut up because they obviously didn't know what they were talking about? Bren (who is already my hero for having such an awesome name) shows you how to do it. Nearly a tie from Juno and also from Bren: "Because doctors are sadists who like to play God and watch lesser people scream."

3. "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn." Rhett Butler, Gone with the Wind. Short, sweet, to the point. The perfect line on which to leave the room. 

4. I'm the squire in Caroline's quest for attention. Norah, Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. Perfect imagery.

5. She's starting to damage my calm. Jayne Cobb, Serenity. I actually quote this all the time. To my kids, mostly. I love them like fire, but they definitely damage my calm.