You ever experienced something so moving, so powerful "choreographed" that it felt it could be in a movie.

yall get what im asking?

like something so unreal it would like a scene in a movie. like u singing something to yourself, someone overhears you. and before you know it the whole room is singing the song with you and everyone is all smiling and happy....


...yeah, that sappy shit!

share it!

I like the idea of this thread, but it seems a little too upmost to me. I can think of several, shit, I can think of dozens.

every fricken day.

interesting things have always happened to me.

this weekend for example.. totally weird and exciting party with country folk i've never met... real caricature-type country Aussies, just like in movie and i met a guy who had partied frequently with hendrix, the who and led zeppelin in the 60s... so weird... such a trip of a night

but i've travelled a lot too and the romantic side of my life has always been subject to a lot of synchronicity and out-of-the-ordinaryness.

Well, when I arrived in London when I was 19. Just walking down the crowded streets for the very first time just getting out of the tube station after the ride from Heathrow to Earl's Court. Quite an experience. Straight out of a biography movie.

Oc course, my life didn't turn out to be so interesting that anybody would ever bother to make a flick about it.

Having said that I have dozens of moments, and that no one is the ultimate, I will share this one. This was one I was thinking about last night. It's funny.

I'm 35 now, but back when I was 15 I had to "get a job". between the age 15-17 I worked as a bagboy at a store that was some seven miles from my home. Several nights were very Movie-Like, if the movie was a horror movie that is. You see? I would work until a couple of hours after dark. When I got done working, I had to ride my bike home. In the dark. Alone!

There was this one road that would lead from the city I was working in to the city in which I lived. It was a dark road, and the family homes that dotted the beginning, would quickly give way to that long road of nightmares. For down that darkest of single laned roads lay a mile and a quater strech of death.

I would ride my bike and the homes quickly would grow darker and give way to a road leading strait through a cemetary. There I would be, on my little bike, having to enter into a road not just covered on one side with a city of the dead, but a road that had circumvented the massive graveyard so that the only thing besides a few dotted lights was a walled in road with dead things on both sides for over a mile.

Needless to say, I would pump that bike so hard, that I am sure the bike even rembers those nights.

I love cemetaries.

My 3 swedish summers in the 70s play like those nice movies on SBS.

Oh dear, there have ben so many!!!!! That was my purpose in moving to Europe, so I could live my life at any given moment like an artsy fartsy movie (or 80's style nightime soap opera) of choice!!!!

let's see, here's a moment or two:

*--- on my honeymoon with my FIRST husband, standing over the sweeping cliffs of some island (Mallorca? Grand Canary Island?) declaring undying love for one another while the waves crashed down below (the view was BREATHTAKING....very Aaron Spelling /Dynasty-ish)


*--- coming from Downtown on a rainy Sunday, having just spent the afternoon in the art museum...dressed in my usual all black, with ankle sweeping skirt, my vintage black beret cocked to the side if my head, my ancient (but trusty!) beige Burberry trench..little ballerina flats...a handsome stranger catches my eye...he had just purchased a bouquet of lillies at the flower shop in front of the train before we boarded. He sits across the isle and opposite of me. I sense he's staring at me, and I pretend not to notice while reading my novel. Then I give in and glance in his direction, he becomes shy,looks away. I look away...I feel him starting again, I try to look at him without him being aware. Suddenly he's up...his stop has arrived...he's moving for the door. As the others exit, suddenly he turns, and looks to me. He pulls out a lilly, runs over to hand me the flower then runs out the door. I smile, and he stands on the platform waving goodbye smiling shyly----

HE WAS SOOOO GORGEOUS. It was SICK.

Ottensen said:

:swoon:

I love it!



I have had many moments as well. Although I've probably had more 'sitcom' moments that movie moments.

CarrieMpls said:

I can think of a few.

GangstaFam said:

I bet you can!

CarrieMpls said:

I've felt like I was in a porn movie more than once.



I've also felt like I was in an after school special about the dangers of drinking.

GangstaFam said:

oh lord. I think that and me disappearing down a dark alley w/Sassy maybe more along the lines of jersey's after school special though.

CarrieMpls said:

No way. It was way too fun to be depressing.

I can't think of anything more priceless than you calling me on the phone from the very next room! I love you!

GangstaFam said:

I love you too!

jerseykrs said:

i saw that one...it starred Scott Baio...it was called...

purplerein said:

well, aside from playing hockey...hahaha

CarrieMpls said:

OOOH! But sitcom moments are AWESOME !!!!

I HAVE to tell this story because in retrospect, it was one of the funniest experiences in my life, and thankfully, the old beau ended up becoming one of the best platonic friends of mine EVER!


The sitcom moment was 5 years ago with some I dated...we're like a reversed version of "When Harry Met Sally", becuase we tried dating first and then we just had to give up and settle on being friends because....I dunno, trying to fit together romantically always ended up with disasterous consequences. And I mean ALWAYS.

The straw that broke the camel's back was out last "date" in 2001? He decided to take me canoeing on the lake downtown and through the canals of our city. I was supposed to pack the picnic lunch, and he would do the manly-man rowing part . It started off nice enough, the weather was sunny and the skies were blue...but then on the lake we got a LITTLE TOO close to some big ole catamaran with a bunch of rich people in sailor hats and we almost overturned...and they just laaaaaughed and laaaaaughed at poor little us in our sad little dingy...I could only react by sticking on my big sunhat, putting on my big Jackie o. sunglasses and promptly giving them the finger while Dingy man huffed and puffed trying to row us out of their wake...

We then managed 30 minutes of hasslefree canoeing in the city canals, past homes, gardens, bridges and ice cream shops...all the couples that passed us in neighboring canoes had angry, red faced looking German girls who saw me in complete, unfettered, sunhatted repose, reading my Elizabeth Barrett Browning aloud... and then themselves, suddenly realizing that they had gotten JIPPED into being the muscle behind making those dingies float down the stream

We then have to pass through a sea of Swans...for those who don't know, despite their beauty, Swans are the most confrentational, violent birds you will ever encounter on water. I am convinced they are not of this earth and are instruments of Satan...being on their "turf" and we were surrounded by a quartet of them..circling, looking, just dying to start a fight with us. the ring leader was looking me with his beady little eyes like he wanted a piece of me....I've seen these birds attack people on canals before, and honestly, folks, a swan will whoop your ass. If you somehow manage to get the better of them, THOSE BASTARDS CALL FOR BACK-UP!!!!! All of a sudden you have to deal with their whole family, and THEY ARE GOING TO TAKE YOU DOWN. Be advised! And at a moment like this, can someone tell me why my date thought is was appropriate to start loudly humming THE THEME TO JAWS????? I was not amused. The birds weren't either. And when he realized that they might be out to peck the hell out of us he shut right up and kept on rowing....QUIETLY.

After a second, I get back into the poetry groove. We then see another sportive looking German-German couple and the GF gives that same look of "Hey! What the hell am I rowing this thing for???"


then there was a conversation that went something like this:

HE: they must be a bit jealous right now...you know the German girls like to show that she can do 50% of the work in the relationship, even for rowing..

ME: But darling, I'm not FROM HERE. I believe in putting forth my 50% alright. In all things EXCEPT rowing. Besides the deal was, you row, and I treat you to a picnic lunch... now shall I continue with the reading..? (and I continue to do the little poetry recitation thingy, there's a sudden splash)...HEY.HEY.HEY! WATCH THE SPLASHING! I've told you 1,000 times about Black American women and how obsessed we are when we get it DONE, now paddle right, and listen up...this Browning stuf is good! She's one of my favorites...(continue to read)

HE: (interrupting)...You know, I've never said anything before, but those British hooligan poets put me to sleep, can't you recite something from the French for me??? (Dingy-man was a French studies major and an asbolute francophile)...I glare at him, he then says:

I'm not criticizing you. I like to hear you recite the translations, that's all... That and the fact that the french poets are more refined (insert roll of the eyes HERE)...

ME: you mean something like (paraphrasing and in an obnoxiously loud voice)..."ransacking the guts of women, fearing her convulsion, crying out, stifling you on her breast with horrible pleasure"

HE: That's not a nice way to describe lovemaking.

ME: You should know, you read him at University. That's RIMBAUD, smartass.

He: I'm hungry...let's pull over to those trees!

Lunch goes by wihout a hitch....the sandwiches are good. Chicken breast on Turkish flatbread with arugula, s.d. tomatoes, smoked gouda and olive tapenade...we have little plastic champagne glasses for mini-bottles of sparkling wine, and a container of rasberries.

Suddenly I have to do that all too familiar "tinkle"...and I've got to manage to get out of the boat, and up the steep bank into the privacy of the trees. There is nothing for traction but spindly twigs, and I'm trying to hold onto my "tissues" and plastic bag. Dingy man has just realized that the canoe is stuck on something and we need to lodge ourselves out. He gets out to fix it leaving the food uncovered.

Luckily, I climb to a hidden spot on the bank far enough out of view from passing boaters and take care of business. Dingy man gets the canoe back on proper footing and back into the boat, then suddenly we both are screaming at the same time: He has managed to just bite down into a sandwhich with an insect lodged in it, while i have promptly managed to get stung on my naked ass by a bee . I break out running, slipping and sliding down the hill towards the boat, into the water grabbing like a crazy woman, rocking it and running smack into him, accidentally cracking him right across the brow while he was choking on his gnat sandwich, until somehow we just both end up in the freaking canal.

Not deep, but we are now muddy, wet, and injured nontheless... and my favorite sunhat is floating down the stream without a care in the world...

US: (in unison) we have GOT to stop dating...

ME: because if we don't we'll never see FORTY.


and THAT was the funny but disastrous end to our affair. We got back in the boat, mosquitos swarming us for fresh meat...muddy, mangled, worse for wear... me with a beestung butt, him looking like he had just been in a fight with Muhammed Ali...we STILL laugh about that little sitcom date to this day...but I'd never want to relive that sitcom moment again !