12/10/03 - Seven more days until it's out! *bounce*bounce*explode*
12/12/03 - Confirm plans with coworkers to buy tickets to matinee as "holiday party."
12/14/03 - Confirmation of ticket purchase and time of movie. *bounce*minor squeeing*
12/15/03 - Two more days! Two more days! Amusing "Foxtrot" comic forces self-realization that while my behavior is embarrassing in a woman of 30, it's hardly rare. Feel slightly better. Share comic with husband, who laughs. Kick him. Share comic with friend via email, who replies "OMG! TOTALLY!" Feel better, as she is ten years older than I.
Watch FOTR on dvd (extended edition, of course) at night, with husband and beast.
12/16/03 - It's tomorrow! It's tomorrow! It's tomorrow! It's tomorrow! *bounce*bounce*bounce*bounce*bounce*bounce*bounce*bounce*bounce*bounce*bounce*bounce*bounce*bounce*bounce*bounce*bounce*bounce*bounce*explode*
Randomly throughout day, bounce and squee, and mentally scream. Realize I'm getting more flustered about this than the girls who fainted at Beatles concerts. Try deep breathing.
Try to avoid reading anything to do with the movie or actors, especially slash. Fail spectacularly.
Co-write slash fiction with friend. Get feedback immediately. Realize I am a feedback whore.
Watch TTT on dvd (extended edition) at night, with husband and beast. Briefly regret not having midnight showing tickets, but realize I'd simply die if I tried to stay awake until 3 AM.
Go to bed. Scream into pillows for a while. Giggle. Realize I've been lying in bed for an hour. Try deep breathing. Try counting backwards, slowly, from 100. Try counting forwards, in French, to 100. Name fruits that start with all the letters of the alphabet. Can't think of anything for I, J, Q, and then space out and just take some melatonin instead. Eventually fall asleep, more excited than a kid the night before Christmas.
12/17/03 - Wake up dreaming of scenes from the movie, that aren't in the movie or in the books. Alarm goes off at 6:30. It's today! It's today! IT'S TODAY!!!! *explode*
What on earth shall I wear?
Drive to work, flipping around radio stations to see if there's anything in the morning news about last night's midnight showing or lines or anything. Nothing. Bounce in car until I notice car is shaking. Occasionally scream. Blush, but figure it's better to do it in the car, with no witnesses. Try not to hyperventilate.
Get in to work. Coworker is late. Close office door and bounce and flap and squee quietly, about once an hour, until she arrives.
Try not to remember the plot of the books, skip reading usual email from Yahoo!groups, tell friends to please no spoilers. Shockingly, a few people have no idea the movie even comes out today. Freaks. Reason #493 not to have kids - clearly they totally mess up your priorities.
Coworker arrives. Move flapping/squeeing to ladies' bathroom, hourly. Avoid sugar, but it makes no difference to my hyperness.
Half-day at work! Run to car. Drive far to fast down to town. Can't find anything on the radio and am forced to put in cd and sing "Crazy Train" at top of voice to vent excess energy. Arrive at hairdresser's trying not to bounce or blush or grin. Fail.
Three and a half hours! *bounce*explode*
Spend two hours reading "In Style" and "jane", forcing myself not to actively look for tidbits about the actors in the movie. Find two juicy tidbits and four pictures. Manage not to physically make any noise or move while I scream inside and jump up and down. Hairdresser asks if I'm too hot, since my cheeks are pink. Cheeks get pinker.
Try not to check watch obsessively. At 2:04, cell phone rings, as hair is being trimmed. Can't move; will have to check it later. Finally finished at 2:24. Stop at car to get sandwich, water, and check cell phone. No answer from husband. Whatever. Bounce and grin and squeal. Deep breaths. Mentally slap self. Realize that was a physical slap, when homeless person gives me an odd look. Clearly they are more sane than I am. Hurry past, blushing at the sidewalk.
Finally! The theater! Mecca! *scream* Husband fidgeting outside doors. I have his ticket, so he lost his/our first-in-line place. Ah well. We are still very close to the front. Stand in line, fidgeting, babbling, eating sandwich, drinking water, making a trip to the loo, eavesdropping on the teenagers in line, chatting with another line-dweller, trying not to totally freak the fuck out. Fail. Mention how nervous I am about the spider. Realize this could be a spoiler and try to shut up. Fail.
Finally! They let us in! Run, run, run, grab seats, score! Four seats, dead center, wide row, surrounded by other geeks adults. Fifteen minutes. Heart racing, palms sweating, deep-breathing calmness a completely joke. Advertisements. Previews. Movie! YAE!
(Spoilers start)
Watch the movie. Totally sucked in; there might as well be no one else in the theater. Except husband, who lets me maul his thigh and break his hand during the spider scenes, which I still only watch out of the corner of my eye.
Not sure what I think of the Smeagol/Deagol bit. Or Smeagol's transformation. Love the stoned hobbitses. Love Rohan. Oliphanty goodness. Eowyn again makes me want to hack at things with a sword. Adore the scene with the witch king.
Mmmm…. Manflesh. Elflesh. Mmmm…
Try not to giggle hysterically as the strawberries bit reminds me of the bubble baths in the "Very Secret Diaries."
Have been warned about crying. Get all gooey at the lovers' separation when Pippin goes off to Gondor. Repress tears as Faramir rides out to his death. Manage to keep it together for Theoden's death. And for Frodo/Sam angst. And for the coronation. Totally fucking lose it when Frodo leaves. Wah!
Leave movie theater. Only thought in my head is *bounce*grin*bounce*grin*bounce*grin and "When can we see it again?" Parking ticket on car seems totally worth it; I'd pay twice that much to see the movie again. Drive home with big, sappy grin all over my face, totally incoherent. Just WOW.
Home. Shower. Check email. Chat with friend. Totally incoherent. Can't think about movie, can't talk about movie, can't string two words together. There are words for the drunk/happy/relaxed/incoherent feeling that makes me just want to lie on the bed in the dark and grin to myself. Satiated. Post-coital.
Watch "South Park" with husband and dog. Briefly chat about movie. He says if someone had told him ten years ago that his wife would be more excited about the movie "The Return of the King", he'd never have believed it. Calls me a geek. I blushingly accept the title. Briefly discuss when we will see the movie again.
Scene comes on "South Park" which he recognizes as stolen from "Star Trek" from the moment the make-out music starts, before the dialog which he also claims is stolen directly from a "Star Trek" episode. I pass back the geek title to him; all hail the king.
Husband tucks me in. Fall asleep to the Rohirrim theme music in my head. Bliss.