Halloween Special
Here is my family in a nutshell, courtesy of the movie Ratatouille:
My favorite quote is when chef Skinner almost discovers Linguini and Remy in the walk-in cooler. Linguini covers by trying to say he is getting familiar with the ingredients. “One can become too familiar with vegetables, you know!” booms Skinner.
My husband prefers the part in the montage about Horst, whom Collette claims has done time, when he intones, “I killed a man. With this thumb.”
My 11-year-old’s favorite part is when Linguini is inebriated, talking with chef Skinner. He says, “Ratatouille. It's like a stew, right? Why do they call it that? If you're gonna name a food, you should give it a name that sounds delicious. Ratatouille doesn't sound delicious. It sounds like 'rat' and 'patootie.' Rat-patootie, which does not sound delicious.”
That’s right. I like somewhat naughty, unintentional double-entendre word play. My husband likes the vaguely threatening but funny boast about personal prowess. And my middle-schooler likes mildly scatological, adolescent jokes about body parts. Heh, heh. And my youngest--she likes the part where all the rats are cooking in the kitchen: the visually fantastical, unreal team effort. She’s six. Go figure.
My favorite quote is when chef Skinner almost discovers Linguini and Remy in the walk-in cooler. Linguini covers by trying to say he is getting familiar with the ingredients. “One can become too familiar with vegetables, you know!” booms Skinner.
My husband prefers the part in the montage about Horst, whom Collette claims has done time, when he intones, “I killed a man. With this thumb.”
My 11-year-old’s favorite part is when Linguini is inebriated, talking with chef Skinner. He says, “Ratatouille. It's like a stew, right? Why do they call it that? If you're gonna name a food, you should give it a name that sounds delicious. Ratatouille doesn't sound delicious. It sounds like 'rat' and 'patootie.' Rat-patootie, which does not sound delicious.”
That’s right. I like somewhat naughty, unintentional double-entendre word play. My husband likes the vaguely threatening but funny boast about personal prowess. And my middle-schooler likes mildly scatological, adolescent jokes about body parts. Heh, heh. And my youngest--she likes the part where all the rats are cooking in the kitchen: the visually fantastical, unreal team effort. She’s six. Go figure.