My husband entered me in a contest to win tickets to a pre-screening of “Rock of Ages,” which was strange because he had no interest whatsoever in seeing it – which must mean he wanted me out of the house so he could play his new Rush CD over and over again at ear-splitting decibel levels, or “11” as he and Spinal Tap like to say.

I believe when I originally told him I wanted to see the movie he said, “That is every band and every song that I absolutely hate.” Go figure. I however, am quite fond of Night Ranger, Whitesnake, Bon Jovi AND Def Leppard, so when he told me I had actually WON two tickets I was PUMPED. Until I realized I needed to find someone to go with. But then I had a brilliant idea. Since Sandy lives too far away to play on a “school night,” I called… MAX!

So, our guest reviewer on 2fortheshow this week is the adorable, talented, creative, multi-faceted, Max.

On a side note, Max has a little trouble with his filter regarding what you should and shouldn’t say in public. We had been in the theater about 5 minutes when I realized the best part of the show was going to be him. As other contest winners and “regular people,” began strolling into the theater, I was treated to a running commentary on attire, nationality, cleanliness and personal appearance in general. While Max snarkily commented about buses, subtitles and Bosnia (don’t ask), I attempted to hum or cough to block the hearing of the gentleman directly to my right whom I felt wasn’t happy to be there in the first place and just MIGHT be happy to kick somebody’s butt. And I’m pretty sure Max is not a fighter.

And THEN, the movie promotions company did the unthinkable. They decided to host an air guitar contest. I think this was intended to up the energy in the auditorium prior to the movie viewing, which made me immediately suspicious. I typically enjoy movies WITHOUT needing a warm up act. So Max and I huddled in our seats trying to become invisible, which we successfully managed, as neither was chosen as an air guitarist.

Try to contain your disappointment.

They chose people based on whether they looked like 1980s roadies. If I had been selected it would have been the second worst insult of the week. The first being the comparison of myself with Carole the receptionist from the original Bob Newhart Show. But I digress.

For the next 15 minutes (or lifetime), however you prefer to see it, we watched 5 people be publicly humiliated, then rewarded with barely a smattering of applause. We should have just voted on which one we thought really HAD been a roadie. They were eventually given t-shirts with the name of Tom Cruise’s fake “Rock of Ages” band on it – Arsenal. Max predicts they will never see the light of day.

Everyone settled back into their seats, and they dimmed the lights to start the film…

To be continued on 2fortheShow, as soon as Max and I finish writing the review.

Now THAT’s a teaser.

Insert air guitar solo here. And take a look at the preview, if you haven’t seen it yet.



Well, it took a few more hours than expected, but the first review is complete. Thanks to my partner-in-crime, Sandy. Please take a look if you like. The blog is titled 2 for the Show and will feature movie and TV reviews. We hope.  Thanks to those creative minds out there with such great ideas for blog names! However, I DID have to go with my mother’s. She feeds me sometimes. And buys me nice stuff. There’s also that unconditional love thing, too.

We are just figuring out how to communicate back and forth to make this work.  How do people write in tandem, anyway? Please have a kind thought as we get our bearings.

Thank you!


Like apparently almost everyone else in the world I read The Help, and raced to see the movie last weekend. My friends, Max and Tony, had already been treated to a preview showing two weeks before the opening and were raving about it  – actually to the point I was afraid my expectations were going to be too high. 

They weren’t. 

What can I say? I sat in the theater trying to make my three measly Kleenexes make it to the end of the film. Frankly, it’s more of a 4 or 5 hanky picture.

Afterward, we quoted lines to each other and recalled our favorite moments. (Okay, we basically reenacted the entire film.) Something about this story STRIKES HOME. We love it. We love the characters. We love the sets, the costumes, the accents, and the one liners. We love that it hurts our hearts as we watch the carelessness of people – (Hilly, especially.) We shake our heads in disgust. We cry. And cry some more because we cannot fully comprehend the mentality that existed at that point in history.  (And horrifyingly, still does in some cases.)

Aside from the huge, huge, obvious issue of race are additional issues of equality (not only  racial, but social), loyalty, decency and friendship (and its limits). Those issues define us as human beings, regardless of color.

Now, I have absolutely no way of knowing what it feels like to be discriminated against because of the color of my skin. I can’t come close to imagining that reality. The closest thing I can even personally draw from was an experience in middle school. I attended an elite, yet public school in Dallas. I was not of the same social class (spoiled brat) as the majority of students. I had not one friend. People made fun of me. I was mocked. I was kicked.

I don’t remember a lot of detail about that year, but one thing I do recall was a school dance. I told a classmate, Alice, that my mother and I would give her a ride to the dance. Alice was THE ONLY black child in the middle school. I knew her from sharing the same “excluded” lunch table together. 

Alice was the daughter of a Park Cities maid who lived in a house behind the “main” house.  Earlier that day someone commented, “You complain because you don’t fit in and yet you offer a ride to a maid’s daughter. This is not going to help your case.”

I don’t think I was particularly worried about making a political statement at the time, but shrugging, “Well, it can’t get any worse,” was not exactly a courageous stand. 

I regret that.

I have no idea what happened to Alice after that evening. I suppose I should make up some sort of better ending, but that’s the truth. I know we didn’t hang out together or become best friends. Maybe we thought the two of us together made a bigger target, so chose to avoid that. 

The finer points made by The Help can be applied to bullies and bigots alike – not to mention those who stand on the sidelines, unwilling to lose popularity points. We ask ourselves – who’s worse?  The instigator, or the one who’s too weak-minded, or weak-willed to take a stand?

Anyone who has been made to feel unimportant, worthless, or unaccepted for ANY reason knows what it’s like to have a metaphorical door closed in your face. Lost. Alone. Forsaken. The Help will put all that in perspective for you.

So, why do we love it so? Weeping our eyes out and cringing at the heartless Hilly?

Maybe because we’ve all known a Hilly – or been one.

And we all love thinking things will change, and we can change them.

That’s what people call, “hope,” isn’t it?