Shame Cycle

I have a confession. I’m not proud of it. In fact, no one would blame you if, after reading it, you immediately jumped out of this blog and deleted F.M.S. from your (priority) reader. Even having to type this makes me feel dirty and shameful like the first time I read Half-Fast. Ready? Here goes:

I paid real cash money to see Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel.

If the first step is admitting you have a problem, well then, at least that’s through. When do I have to call all my relatives and friend (acquaintance, really) and make amends? Most of my relatives like to shoot things with various weapons (or suffocate a skunk by filling a covered cage with exhaust fumes from an ATV – true story I just heard over the holidays. Merry Christmas!) If I explained to them that I paid money to see Alvin and some chipmunks, they’d probably respond “Like from a blind or something?” And then drink more Blatz and continue being completely visible in camouflage.

Maybe I’ll skip amend making.

And here’s where it gets worse. Two years ago I innocently paid real cash money to take the kids to the FIRST Alvin and the Chipmunks. No one could blame me then, right? New movie. Theoretically, it could have been good. It wasn’t (of course). I wanted to claw my eyes out 30 minutes in. I remember leaving the theater that evening in 2007 and saying to Mrs. Nitmos that I would never, ever see another one of those stupid movies. Not on DVD. Not on TV. Not, God forbid, a sequel.

But there I was last Saturday paying hard earned money once again. In fact, I compounded the problem by paying real cash money – not just for our family – but for two of the kids’ friends as well. Their parents must have shut the door on us after child pick-up and slide down the door howling with laughter. Suckers! But paybacks are hell. I’ll make sure they take MY kids to this future abomination.

As the lights dimmed and the little squealing chipmunks appeared on the screen (prompting my first waves of nausea and regret), I settled back and mentally reviewed my year in running and prospects for 2010. An addict often blacks out at the height of their addiction. This is as close as I was going to get. Between internal 2009 reminiscences and 2010 planning, I was interrupted only once by a 45 year old man laughing hysterically when one of the chipmunks performed a dutch oven on his guardian. Funny. Not the movie, of course, but that a man that age could actually find that funny. Everyone knows that dutch ovens stop being funny after the age of 35.

The six hour long “movie” finally ended. I managed to feel my way back out to the car, which was considerably difficult what with the two 8 inch ling forks sticking out of my eyes. I vaguely recall jabbing them in somewhere around the 20 minute point.

I’ve seen two of these horrific creations. I fear that I’m stuck in a shame cycle. If they make another, will I go? I hate them but apparently my body needs them. I’m addicted to bad chipmunk related movies. Why, oh why, couldn’t I have become addicted to the designer vampire drug? My supply would be bountiful. Instead, I’ll probably need to wait two more years for more chipmunk.* The real disappointing part of this particular addiction is that I don’t have hilarious stories about running down a highway naked or throwing up on a salad bar to bring some color to the experience. I’m left with flat jokes and thin plot development and that's all.

Some of you have survived strenuous marathons, physically exhausting ultra marathons, demanding triathlons…I have seen two Alvin and the Chipmunk movies. I believe I have demonstrated my superior endurance.

Hi, my name is Nitmos. I’m an Alvinholic. It’s been five days since I last used…

Happy trails.

* And the street value of chipmunk is astronomical. Especially in winter when the supply is low.