127 Hours, Two Minutes on the Bathroom Floor

Levi and I FINALLY got Netflix. Seriously, who are we? My mom had Netflix like two years ago, and she doesn't even know how to use her DVD player. Anyway, last night Levi and I watched our first Netflix movie, "127 Hours". It's that movie about the guy who goes hiking in Canyonlands alone and ends up getting stuck between a rock and a hard place, which, not coincidentally, is the name of his memoir. Dude really was stuck between a rock and a hard place, which forced him to drink his own urine. And he cut off his own arm. It was a decidedly bad week.

So the cut off his own arm part -- it's only like a two-minute scene, but it's grisly and the amputation is done almost entirely with a 100% dull one and a half inch multi-tool, which came as a bonus gift with a flashlight. Imagine cutting a rare T-bone steak with the handle end of a plastic spork and I imagine you're getting close. Only it's your frigging arm and you have to snap the bone so you can rub your spork back and forth through the break in the bone, but only after you sever the tendons with, I don't know, the less-round end of your completely empty Nalgene bottle? There was jerky-snapping and blood gushing and grown man screaming. So Levi and I watch that scene and a couple minutes later Levi heads to the bathroom. Later I find out that he was feeling sick to his stomach, but first I heard a kind of large thud. I'd just replaced the toilet paper that day, and it was one of those super-double rolls, but it seemed like a little more bang than a TP buck could ever provide, but I thought, eh, maybe the toilet tipped over or something. Then another thud. I got up and found Levi on the floor, totally passed out. His eyes were open, but I was asking him if he could hear me and he didn't respond. For how long do you ask a person who's laid out on the ground if they can hear you before you actually do something? I don't know, but it's at least fourteen seconds. That's when Levi started mumbling, then talking, then, eventually, slurping on the water I'd brought. It was horrible. There's my husband on the ground, not moving or talking, and I was thinking how will I ever pay for Netflix on my own? I should've gotten Netflix life insurance!

Netflix is a shit ton of entertainment for ten bucks a month. We find it's much more fun than hand puppets, especially when you can only make a sort-of dog whose face does this melty Gary Busey thing when you try to move its ears. And now I'm searching for movies in categories other than "self-amputation".