New Year's Resolutions. Also, book quotation.

This week's quote comes from what *should* be the official guide to womanhood, Bridget Jones' Diary. It also leads me right into my resolutions for the new year, since I'm picking a quote from BJ's resolutions. I have a feeling this book will lead to many weekly quotes.

I WILL NOT
Waste money on: pasta makers, ice-cream machines or other culinary devices which will never use; books by unreadable literary authors to put impressively on shelves; exotic underwear, since pointless as have no boyfriend.

Sulk about having no boyfriend, but develop inner poise and authority and sense of self as woman of substance, complete without boyfriend, as best way to obtain boyfriend.

There were quite a few more that were actually applicable to my life, but these ones made me laugh and so they were the ones quoted. For those of you (females, that is) who haven't read this book, DO IT. So. Freakin. Hilarious. Best $14 I ever spent on a book (which I then perused, crossing out all the swearwords and writing nicer words in pen so I could lend it to my more virtuous friend. Yes, I defaced and CENSORED a book!). But I'll write more about my BFF Bridget later.

Today is also about resolutions. I've made many over the years, most of them unkept. Oh like you're any better, don't even give me that! This year I'm hoping that making them public (to the three people that actually read this) will make me more accountable. Here goes!!

1. I will get more healthy. It's not enough to eat sporadically and say that that means I'm eating less. I actually need to exercise and eat like a normal person! That will be miraculous since it will be undoing about 15 years of habit, but I know it's possible!
2. I will start reading my scriptures every day again. Right now, I have no clue where they are. But I will find them and get back to the good stuff.
3. I will be nicer. Bridget wrote about how she would stop bitching about people behind their backs and be positive instead. I'm going to try that too. I'm sure daily scripture reading will help!
   
4. I will stop killing plants. It's time to accept that my thumb is not anything like green and stop buying those stupid mini-rose bushes no matter how much I love them (and I really really love them!), because all that happens is they die long, slow, tragic deaths and I'm sad until the next bunch goes on sale at Smith's. End the circle of death!
5. I will be nicer to my family, whom I love. Is that how you use whom?* It's somehow easier to be mean to the people you love because you feel like they can't just leave you, but I will show them how much I love them through kindness and not impatience. (Check most of them out in this awesome Christmas video!)
   
6. * I will learn the proper usage of words like "whom" and "resounding" so that when I use them in my blog, I'm not paranoid and nervous that I'm a grammatically challenged fool, but rather am full of confidence in my Webster's-like prowess (I will also learn the proper usage of "prowess" just in case).
   

I think those are maybe good for now. A few good, solid, achievable goals for the new year. Look out, 2009: HERE'S SUSIE!!!

Yo yo yo, and a ho ho ho: Merry Christmas dawgzz!

So last night after a long long day at the job site (Walmart - what better way to destroy the spirit of Christmas than to be forced to serve impatient, obnoxious, and angry procrastinators on Christmas Eve) I met up with my sisters and we headed to the ol' homestead. Or rather we would have if I hadn't seriously underestimated the amount of luggage two world travelers would need for a mere week's visit home. These girls have gone everywhere and all over, I had assumed that they would have two *maybe* three suitcases tops because surely they'd be expert packers by now. More fool I! But thanks to my sister Anna's mad tetris-like skills, we rearranged and repacked the car and started out just a bit later than planned.

I decided I was too tired to drive (again, Walmart - thanks for killing my spirit and draining my life forces from me on a daily basis), so I let Anna take the wheel. I'd say the combined driving skills in the family are pretty average, but there are a few members who tend to weave slightly (and by "slightly" I mean they weave like a snake crossing the hot desert sands) and who also hallucinate strange things when driving at night. Anna may or may not be one of those people, I'll never tell. But I will say that the two passangers did say a little prayer about halfway through when the driver got a bit sleepy at the same time the weather took a turn for the worse (it felt like any minute we would be whisked up into the air and off to Oz where we would run over Dorothy and the gang with my crap car).

Finally we made it home and after a delightful Christmas Eve and a morning filled with presents, laughter, and dropping the dog in the snow drifts outside and laughing hysterically while she tried to climb back out again, all I can say is Merry Christmas to all!! Loves :)

Book quotation

This week is again Terry Pratchett. What can I say, the man's just really funny to me. I like his books! This one is entitled Men at Arms.

No clowns were funny. That was the whole purpose of a clown. People laughed at clowns, but only out of nervousness. The point of clowns was that, after watching them, anything else that happened seemed enjoyable. It was nice to know there was someone worse off than you. Someone had to be the butt of the world.

So I have mixed feelings about this particular passage. On the one hand, looking over my life I can still point to my trip to the circus when I was about 24 as one of the most exciting times ever - yeah, you heard me; I was 24 (not 4) and I could barely sit still from excitement. I loved the clowns.

On the other hand, how many creepy killer clown movies are there? Could it be that I am in a rare minority that enjoys clowns while the rest of the world agrees with Mr. Pratchett that clowns are something to edge nervously away from, all the while showing neither your back nor your fear? As my little sister pointed out, no one has lips that big. What's that all about? Also, who can think of clowns without thinking of this (evidence both to the wrongness of clowns *and* Tim Curry).

At any rate, I think the statement (and the sentiment behind it) is really funny (even if I've creeped myself out looking for stuff about clowns).

Mad genius

This is a tribute to the brilliant creative mind that is my brother, David. Since before time remembered, my brother has made me laugh to the point that I never even had a chance of being witty back. My only contributions to some of our conversations were Goofy-like laughs and snorts.

I'm glad that he let me hang out with him all last year and take part in his movie schemes, whether it be zombie adventures, zooby adventures, or just sitting in the background giggling like in this video (a must see!).

So thank you David, for bringing the world a bit of sunshine and laughter. Thanks for the chuckles and for putting up with my hyperness. You are Teh Greatest.

For those who are about to die, we salute you!

This is a tribute to all my showzz that are getting the boot this year. It may seem like a silly post, but I'm a TV junky and I love these shows like they were family. The main problem is that either I have horrible taste or the media does. I'm pretty sure it's the media.

Pushing Daisies - Why, gods of television, WHY?? I blame everything for the demise of this beautiful show (both literally beautiful and hyperbolically beautiful): ABC for turning out to be as moronic as Fox*, the public for not watching this show more and keeping ratings up, Neilsen for being a crappy ratings system anyway, and the weather because that's SOP when blame is involved. I mean, could *you* cancel this?And what, you ask, is replacing it? Lost reruns! Hooray. My mortal enemy, Lost, who has strung me along like that guy that you should dump but you just can't because maybe someday it will actually go somewhere. Whatever, I hate everything.

Eli Stone (probably, it seems) - Finally a show that is intelligent and humorous and stars Johnny Lee Miller *AND* it has singing and dancing. Of course it gets canceled. Once again, I blame ABC for sucking and not realizing a good thing when it's got one. The replacement - Primetime: What Would You Do? I'll tell you what I'd do, I'd kill Diane Sawyer and her stupid show for booting Johnny Lee Miller out of my weekly life. I LOVE YOU JLM!

Lipstick Jungle - Okay, so I don't really care so much about this show, it's just another thorn to prick at me and make me mad. The thing is, I liked Cashmere Mafia so much better, but the public picked this show as the winner in the contest of shows about beautiful power women, and now it's getting canceled too! Stupid public.

There were quite a few other fledgling shows that didn't make it from the nest, but I won't bother listing them. I'd rather also pay tribute to my other TV peeps that were killed by the writers' strike last year: Moonlight (sexy vampire detective? How could it fail??), Journeyman (time travel, hot Scottish guy from Made of Honor... again, how?), Miss Guided (just so cute), and Bionic Woman (she was supposed to be unstoppable!).

I lay a single rose at your headstones.


*Fox, the notorious stupid-heads who canceled Firefly, Arrested Development, and Futurama which then had to be made into movies to appease angry fans. Can they ever be forgiven for this? I think not.

Incidentally

I think I could watch those mome raths outgrabe all day. Here, watch them some more they're SO CUTE.

Quotation

This week's book passage is from The Jabberwocky:

Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Now technically The Jabberwocky is a poem within a book, so the book would be Through the Looking Glass, but that whole book is like some kind of awful awful acid trip of madness. Also I didn't actually read it this week.

But how can you not love that part of the poem? I want to gyre and gimble! I don't know what the hell a mome rath is (other than those adorable little pom-pom things from the Disney version of Alice in Wonderland) but I'm so glad for them that they outgrabe. Now, read this poem ten times fast while spinning around in a circle (aka "outgrabing") and see if your day isn't just a little bit more insane!

UPDATE: I'm very sad to report that apparently Lewis Carroll did invent some definitions for his made-up words, but they aren't very good. I like my imagined definitions better. If, however, you wish to learn what a "mome rath" really is, here's where to find out.

Reading is fun!

Oops, I forgot last week. But don't think I wasn't readin' or nuthin. I just forgot.

Anyway, this is another Terry Pratchett book (that guy's srsly awesome, dudz) entitled Jingo.

Colon had always thought that heroes had some special kind of clockwork that made them go out and die famously for god, country and apple pie, or whatever particular delicacy their mother made. It had never occurred to him that they might do it because they'd get yelled at if they didn't.

And isn't that really what motivates us all; the fear of getting yelled at? I submit that it is. And if you disagree, I might yell at you.

Makeover

Both my blog and myself received a makeover this week. Yes, inspired by the pretty updates to other blogs I read (including my sister's amazing changes) I decided to change mine. Anyone reading this better pretend it looks awesome because it took me FOREVER using MS Paint to make that stupid header. Also I put some pictures of me to make everyone think I look good, along with that one of me reading to little bunnies because it always cracks me up. Yeah, I'm pretty vain.

As for me, I got blondified. Since my hair refuses to go dark brown, I finally went back to my standard hi-lights, because heaven FORBID I go au natural!

I'm weak, it's true.

Well today I went and saw Twilight. I've been on the fence about the potential for this movie to be any good, so when my cuz invited me to go watch it with her, I resoundingly said "Um, okay I guess!" (Incidentally, do you ever use words like "resoundingly" and then get nervous that you don't really know what they mean? Maybe Twilight and its ilk really *are* sucking away IQ points....)

First, let me say that I really did enjoy the original Twilight book. I know, I should be banned from the intellectual world. But I must confess, people can say what they want about how poorly written those books are; they drew me in and I just couldn't stop reading! The first book was all fun and heart-fluttering romance, with just a hint of danger. Maybe Stephenie Meyer isn't the best writer ever, but she did perfect the formula for luring in single hopeless romantics (and ridiculously hormonal teenage girls). Despite my sister's best attempts to convince me that the story is in fact about a 100 year old pedophile who creepily stalks a 17 year old because her BLOOD smells good (not to mention Kristina P's hilarious summary and Edward post), I refused to listen . I mean, there's a downside to every story, right? Why dwell?

However, despite my fondness for the book, I was rational enough to feel that a movie wasn't the best of ideas (although it made for hilarious spoof trailers). Not only would it introduce this hysteria-inducing series to a whole new crowd - those unwilling to read - but how could what I loved about the books translate to film? Sadly, I was right. It didn't translate well.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the movie (mostly because we were laughing at all the "serious" moments that were actually just silly). But not only did the movie get it ALL WRONG (the vampires were like Edward Scissorhands, all wax and no emotion; Bella was a whining, twitching, bad-acting twit; all the flirting and cute getting-to-know-you convos were removed so that Edward and Bella went from zero to co-dependent like that *snaps*), it also made all that my sister mocked about the book come to life. Suddenly the idea of a man being so smitten that he constantly observes/follows a girl doesn't seem as romantic when seen on the big screen. Watching Robert Pattinson (Edward) stare intensely down at Kristen Stewart's (Bella) half-dressed form - half-dressed because she was asleep and he was just CHILLING in her ROOM - opened my eyes to the fact that he's simply a Creepy Creeperson stalker. Being cute doesn't give you leave to sneak into strange girls' rooms, young man!

So just like that, with one fell swoop (or rather 2 eternally long hours) my fondness for Twilight has been swept away. I can confidently say that if I never read the books again, I'll die a happy woman.

PS There was one clever writer who actually felt that the movie was better than the book. In fact, his/her "28 Reasons that 'Twilight' the Movie Is Better Than 'Twilight' the Book" is downright hilarious. Check it out, but watch out for pop-ups! Not only does it point out all the silliest parts of the movie (but in a way that makes them funny, not annoying) it also served to open my eyes further to the fact that the book really wasn't very good. Go figure.

Your selected reading is:

This week's quotation comes from Feet of Clay by Terry Pratchett, one of my very favoritist British authors. This book is about the police force in a made-up satirical city, which means that it's a detective book. If you hadn't realized yet (based on the fact that a majority of my quotes are from detective books) I really really enjoy mysteries, crime solving, and seeing the bad guys get what's coming to them.

Anyway, the passage:

Vimes pounded through the fog after the fleeing figure. It wasn't quite so fast as him, but whenever he came close to it some muffled pedestrian got in the way, or a cart pulled out of a cross-street. (This always happens in any police chase anywhere. A heavily laden lorry will always pull out of a side alley in front of the pursuit. If vehicles aren't involved, then it'll be a man with a rack of garments. Or two men with a large sheet of glass. There's probably some kind of secret society behind all this.)

This is actually true of non-police pursuits as well. Whenever I'm in a hurry to go get some item people always meander into my path as though they couldn't see me barreling in a direct line straight toward something. If it isn't people then items will somehow magically appear on the floor to trip me. I think Mr. Pratchett is correct, there's some kind of secret society in the works!

More happy funtime links!

These is my webcomics that I follow as faithfully as I can.

Thinkin' Lincoln - this stars the disembodied heads of such famous people as Abraham Lincoln, George Washington, Queen Elizabeth II, and Darwin. Lincoln is pretty random and crazy and the others try to reason with him in his silliness. Except GW, cause he's a butt (not literally).

Terror Island - this stars game pieces from various games such as chess, Monopoly, Tiddlywinks, etc. It's about two roommates who have run out of groceries and go to extreme lengths to try and get the other one to shop for more. SO FUNNY.

FOMS - this seems to be about two rocks. I haven't gotten very far, but it was created by one of the authors of Terror Island and has his same zany humor.

Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal - these are all random single frame comics that are 89% hilarious (today's might be a little blasphemous).

I think my brother David should be an online comic writer. He created a pretty sweet series for Facebook that was one part laugh-out-loud awesomeness, one part randomness, and one part existential. Okay, I don't really know what existential means, but I loved the comic. I wish you could all see it, but I can't find the album anymore on the FB so you can't. Oh well.

My one complaint with all these awesome timewasters - I mean comic strips - is that the authors (who are all ever so modest) keep posting links to *more* funny strips. Some of these guys have been writing since 2003! It's making me want to create a time device to send a message to myself 10 years ago that lists all the comic strips to look out for. I guess that's how things get invented though, right? What do you want to bet Edison only invented the light bulb because he was really clumsy and kept knocking his candles over?

Quantum of Solace

Even a quantum of the delectable Daniel Craig is good enough for me. I just watched the newest Bond, and I loved it! I think my favorite professional review is this one, which sums up most of my concerns and also delights. You should read it, because as I learned from my aforementioned writing gig I'm not that great of a reviewist. More of a summarist. Who likes to make up words. Blarglegrist.

Anyway, while Casino Royale was A+++ AWESOME (and my favorite Bond movie), Quantum of Solace just gets a B in my book. CR had a satisfactory mix of action, topless Daniel Craig, little bit of lovin', and some good old emotional crises. QOS is supposed to finish that story off, and it did okaaaay... but it's as though the directors (different guys from the other one) were afraid that too much emotional drama would be girly. So everytime Bond got close to showing his human side they'd throw in an action scene. The problems with these scenes were that they were Bourne style (i.e. nausea inducing choppiness and camera shaking) and no one ever seemed to get hurt. Oh yeah, they'd die, but they didn't feel pain. Even that emotion would be too girly! There was also an extreme deficiency of shirtless Daniel Craig. Tsk tsk.

On the other hand, I was glad for the wrap up of the Vesper Lynd drama. Craig handled what emotional scenes they allowed him brilliantly. I also really liked the villain who was not grossly disfigured, who wasn't a professional fighter, and who (when finally forced into fighting) screamed like a girl. He was normal! I mean, supervillains get stereotyped way too much, man. Let's end these prejudices.

My final opinion about QOS? I will watch it at least once more in the theater if I can, and it's on my shopping list when it finally comes out on video. Hooray for Bond!

My heart is pitter-pattering

I'd like to thank Kristina (of Pulsipher Predilections fame) for giving my ticker a good ol' jolt when it needed to be calming down for sleepy time. Thanks to her mouth-watering post about Christian Bale I'm wide awake at 2am. Fortunately, I don't have work tomorrow or there'd be words to be had! But Christian is one of those gorgeous men for whom I've wasted time, money and brain cells, and so I wanted to write a bit about him.

I started writing a summary of all the movies I've watched just for him, but then I realized how pathetic and single it makes me look. So I'll just point out the most ridiculous of the bunch: hands down, Reign of Fire.

This is a movie about dragons who apparently eat ash (wtf?) and so want to burn the entire world. Then somehow after they've burned and eaten everything they don't die of starvation, they just go to sleep until some unsuspecting construction worker's son (Christian Bale's younger self) wakes them up. Yeah, it makes absolutely no sense but I love it for two reasons:

1) Matthew McConaughey is in it as a bald creepy weirdo (apparently from Kentucky, go figure). At the end he makes this heroic leap toward the main dragon with only an axe and his insane eyes to defend himself... and just gets chomped. He doesn't even dent the monster. It's awesome!!!
2) Christian Bale is so so pretty. I wish I could say that he plays some moving role or something, but really it's that I love his face.

Once upon a time I owned this movie, but someone borrowed it and kept it (she probably also worships at the altar of Bale). Despite its ridiculosity, I have plans to buy it again and I watch it whenever it comes on TV. Now tell me, all you who are supposed Christian Bale fans, can you say the same? I believe I win this round of devotion.

I also feel obligated to note that what got my heart beating a little faster was remembering his role as Demetrius in A Midsummer Night's Dream. His interpretation of a certain scene wherein he makes some theoretical comments to a girl who is chasing him... oh man, there goes my heart again. Let's just say that Christian can back me up against a wall and threaten to steal my virtue any time!

Finally, if you're reading Kristina, I stole one of those pictures you posted and it's currently my desktop decoration. Yummy yummy Christian....

The book speaks

Okay, that was a lame way to say "book selection," but I was trying to be different. Suck it up.

This week's is from a Rex Stout/Nero Wolfe book. I'm not sure exactly which one; Mr. Stout was pretty prolific. I wrote the quote down almost as soon as I read it because it captured the essence of one of my most favorite literary detectives ever: Archie Goodwin. He's smart, sassy, devilishly handsome (just check out that picture on the wikipedia page), and a ladies' man. How could you not love a guy like that? This is what he told his boss when asked why he wanted to leave and fight in WWII:

I wish to take an ocean trip. I want to get a look at a German. I would like to catch one, if it can be done without much risk, and pinch him and make some remarks to him. I have thought up a crushing remark to make to a German and would like to use it.

What a fabulous smart ass. If they were ever to make a *successful* movie or TV show based on the Nero Wolfe stories, I think Matt Keeslar would be the perfect Archie.

That is all.

Politickin'

Being that this is a more *serious* post (said with a stern frown), there will be no links in it. Just in case you were wondering, since I am the queen of linkage.

Anyway, I felt that I should express my feeling about this most recent presidential election, since it has been such a hot one what with anti-republican sentiment, the whole economical sitch, Obama being black (*gasp!*), Palin being both a woman (*double gasp!*) and a former beauty pageant contestant, etc. First I'll say that I didn't vote. I haven't been able to bring myself to vote yet since I haven't ever been motivated by enough a) belief in one candidate or b) hatred for one candidate. Now I know this is a cardinal sin for many people, but I respect your desire/right *to* vote, so please respect mine to not vote.

Anyway, I felt equally unsure about both candidates, who had lots of neat promises and interesting things to say. In the time that I've been old enough to pay attention to politics, I've noticed that politicians say whatever the hell they want without a lot of meaning behind the words, and they all make neat promises and say interesting things. The phrases "No new taxes," "I did not have sexual relations with that woman," and "Weapons of mass destruction!" all come to mind.

So in the end I'm hopeful about Obama, but pessimistically so. It would be nice if he could deliver what he's promised, but I'm not holding my breath. I kind of think either candidate could have won and we'd be about the same four years from now, and 100 years from now no one would even care.

There you have it. Feel free to judge me, just please be kind when you slaughter me!

Quick disclaimer

I'm feeling a tad nervous, because I was just visiting Ms. LeGuin's website and on the FAQ page she tells people who are requesting permission to quote her works to contact her publishers. I'm pretty sure only two people read this blog, but in case someone else is reading and is upset that I've quoted your books without permission, I'd like to say for the record that I make no claim of authorship to any book I quote. I've fully referenced each quote and I can only hope that will keep me from being accused of plagiarism or something. Don't be mad at me!!!

Book time

Sadly, I'm still on the same book (The Dispossessed, Ursula LeGuin). Gone are the days when I found my books so engrossing that I read while eating, walking, "listening" in class, and even in the bathtub. I hope to find that passion again, but for now reading is slow. Anyway, here's the passage for this week:

What drives people crazy is trying to live outside reality. Reality is terrible. It can kill you. Given time, it certainly will kill you. The reality is pain, but it's the lies, the evasions of reality that drive you crazy. It's the lies that make you want to kill yourself.

I thought this was interesting, especially given my inclination to escape reality through the lies of TV and books - including the fictional book that tells me to *avoid* fiction. Oh the paradox... brain melting... can't stand the pressure... must... watch... TV....

Hahahahaha

So I have a new show that I'm watching for the man candy (I tried to find a picture, but it's still too new for rabid fangirls and boys to be posting them). That show, Crusoe, is kind of silly, but I'll give it time. Anyway, in reading about the show I found a link to this news tidbit:

An Italian couple have been forced to change the name of their son from Friday - Venerdi - to Gregorino.

The Cassation Court ordered the couple, known as Mara O and Roberto G, to rename their son after the saint's day on which he was born to save him from bullying.

The boy's name, taken from the Daniel Defoe novel Robinson Crusoe, is "likely to limit social interaction and create insecurity", said matrimonial lawyer Gian Ettore Gassani.

Journalist Alain Elkann objected to the ruling, saying: "It would have been different if they'd called him Friday the 13th."

The couple have insisted that they will continue to refer to their son by his given name and have proposed calling their next child Mercoledi (Wednesday).

Now someone just needs to get on the horn to Utah judges to stop the name madness that's going on here!

Book quotation of the week

Well, I think I skipped a week, but who said it was an *every week* thing? Anyway, I've been thoroughly uninspired lately by the books I'm reading and so have been watching more brain-melting TV in my spare time, but when I can muster up the will I've been reading Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier (absolutely no quotes to be had) and The Dispossessed by Ursula K. LeGuin (is that name not awesome? I submit that it is). This quote is all Ursula's:

"Is there really no distinction between men's work and women's work?"
"Well, no, it seems a very mechanical basis for the division of labor, doesn't it? A person chooses work according to interest, talent, strength - what has the sex to do with that?"
"Men are physically stronger."
"Yes, often, and larger, but what does that matter when we have machines? And even when we don't have machines, when we must dig with the shovel or carry on the back, the men maybe work faster - the big ones - but the women work longer.... Often I have wished that I was as tough as a woman."
"But the loss of everything feminine - of delicacy - and the loss of masculine self-respect - You can't pretend, surely, in your work, that women are your equals? In physics, in mathematics, in the intellect? You can't pretend to lower yourself constantly to their level?"
"I don't think I pretend very much."

Mad science part deux

Okay, so where were we? Ah yes, the chickens.

This is where I really start feeling like some insane scientist. Not necessarily a mad genius, just some really really crazy person. First I have to remove the chickens from their plastic bag and drain all the DISGUSTING juice out. Sometimes it splashes my face - yeah. Sick.

Then I have to place them on two white trays; sometimes six to a tray, occasionally seven. Once there were three extras (but two were mini-chickens who apparently didn't eat their spinach). As I lay them out, and pull out any feathers missed by whatever dreadful place plucks them to begin with, I can't help but feel sorry for the poor dead frozen birds. What a horribly ignominious end to a sad and cloistered little life. How horribly undignified to be killed, plucked, frozen, and then laid out for the next step;

Rubbin' in the good stuff. That's right, those mouth watering herbs and spices that make the chickens soooo good. I have to liberally pour mysterious packets of what could be addictive chemicals used to bring customers back, for all I know. After I pour I have to massage the powders in for optimal flavor absorption, but it feels almost perverse in a creepy necromantic way.

I end the process by cruelly binding their poor feetless legs together with sharp pointy rings (like some Opus Dei fanatic), and I almost feel like I should be shouting for Igor to conduct the electricity or whatever.

Finally after all my hard work, they're all ready to be roasted and et up - yum yum! And I have decided two things: 1) It's too much work being a mad scientist, and 2) Just cremate me. There's no way I want to be stretched on a slab cold, dead and scrubbed while some mortician rubs powders on my scrawny naked body NO SIREE!

So there you have it. Take one part frozen chicken, one part long hours in a walk-in fridge, and one part Susan's crazy imagination and you get a mad Deli scientist preparing monster chickens to take over the world. Or something!

Mad science

I currently work at Walmart in the deli. This isn't the most menial job I've had, but it is the most menial in about 10 years. I got used to working for doctors, or for an insurance company - things that "grown-ups" do (as opposed to teenagers with no experience). But check this out: it's the highest paying job I've ever had! Take that, doctors' offices!

Anyhoo, one of the tasks that I HATE THE MOST is prepping the chickens for the rotiserie. You know the ones I mean, those mouth watering little roasters in plastic containers that get sold like 5 seconds after they're done cooking... mmmmm. Well I'm the one that gets them ready, and every time I do it's like stepping into a Boris Karloff flick.

First: I must ready myself. I put on a white apron, white lab coat, another white apron (this time plastic), at least two pairs of white latex surgeon-type gloves, and a white hairnet that looks like crazy old man hair.

Second: I prepare the "operating table;" a metal counter with three deep sinks, a scary scary garbage disposal (or torture device??), a tap and sprayer, and lots of miscellanious tubes sticking out. To prepare this surface I have to spray everything with heavy duty soap, scrub it off and spray with water, and then spray it all with a sanitizer so it's sterile. Just like ER!

Third: I get the victims - I mean chickens.

Now this post is too long. I'll have to leave you biting your nails in anticipation and finish tomorrow. G'night!

Book quotation - that sounds better than selection, right?

This week's passage is from the mind of Mma Ramotswe, Botswana's leading lady detective:

She had recently told a young boy to pick up an empty can that he had tossed on the ground in the mall the other day. He had looked at her in amazement, and had then told her that she could pick it up if she liked as he had no intention of doing so. When she was young, a woman would have picked up a boy like that and spanked him on the spot. But today you couldn't spank other people's children in the street; if you tried to do so there would be an enormous fuss. She was a modern lady and did not approve of spanking, but sometimes she had to wonder. Would that boy have dropped the can in the first place if he knew that somebody might spank him?

(Tears of the Giraffe, Alexander McCall Smith)

Gorgeous gorgeous men - bane of my free time

I have a confession. I have spent hours - possibly adding up to days or weeks - of my free time watching really stupid TV shows/movies for the sake of a pretty face. For example, I convinced myself that Attack of the Clones was an excellent movie all because I found out that Hayden Christensen 1) was born the same year as me, and 2) is from Ontario, CA where I coincidentally served my mission a few months after the movie came out. Yes, I was convinced that I would meet, convert, and marry him. Am I crazy? Definitely. But it took me until this year to finally accept that Attack of the Clones sucked. That didn't stop me from liking and buying Jumper though (oh Hayden, when will you realize we're meant to be?).

Anyway, this month's TV show is the BBC's Robin Hood. I have put up with it's ridiculous historical inaccuracies, a really annoying heroine, and the blatant theft of ideas from Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (another movie that I like for the pretty faces, never mind that Kevin Costner doesn't even *pretend* to have a British accent).

All for a glimpse of this man (who was also born the same year as me - move over Hayden!):






It's a sickness.

Sleepless nights, fondest of memories.

So Sunday I again experienced the usual sense of ennui brought on not because the Sabbath stops me from going out and partying - I don't do that anyway. Instead I think it's just the idea that even if I wanted to party I couldn't, so I feel this grudging boredom. The result is that I spend ridiculous amounts of time online doing dumb stuff.

This Sunday I found the best thing ever. Or at least so far. The oldschool DOS computer game, Castle Adventure. It involves an adventurer trapped in a castle with ogres, spiders, and fairies galore; as well as thirteen hidden treasures and a whole bunch of useless artifacts masquerading as treasures. The goal is to kill the beasts, gather the treasures, and figure a way out of the castle. The game features such awesome graphics as the following:

This is the castle itself. It's got pretty sweet pinstriping.

This is you - that's right, you're a clover. Or maybe a spade?

These are bushes and a fountain. I miss the 80s.

This person sucked, I must say. I kicked the game's butt. I killed all the monsters (the spider played by an asterisk, the ogres played by weird smiley faces), found all the treasures, and avoided all the traps. I pretty much rock.

Except it took me like 4 hours! Okay, so I sort of rock. But it sure was fun remembering how we played that game so intently as kids, cursing the mysterious riddles and tricky traps until we finally won. So good.

Book selection of the week

I'm going to try a new thing where I'll take quotes that I really like from whatever book I'm reading and post them here. This week's is from Pride and Prejudice, which I re-read a week ago actually, and it says pretty much all that I've observed about which marriages make it and which don't. It also covers why I'd be okay with an arranged marriage, hee hee.

Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other or ever so similar beforehand, it does not advance their felicity in the least. They always continue to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to have their share of vexation; and it is better to know as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life.

Costumes!

I love Halloween. My only sigh-worthy moment this time of year is that no kids come trick-or-treating around here, and my friends aren't the party type which means I have no excuses to dress up. Last year I worked at the library and was SOOO excited to wear my dracula t-shirt, devil horns, and red fishnets. This year I work and Walmart and my costume will consist of a hairnet and deli apron. DANG! That's only a good costume if you don't already wear it four days a week. But if I *did* have an excuse, what would I be? These are my ideal choices:
Sexy witch (old standard)
Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas - pretty freaky but fun!
A genie - how can you not love it? But I did this one before, so maybe not.
Dorothy Gale - I've wanted to be her forever. It's the slippers.
Morticia Addams
Princess Leia - hee hee hee
Pirate Queen
Cowgirl - I'm digging this one.

However, since I have nowhere to go for Halloween, I'll probably just paint my nails black and orange, and sit inside wistfully wishing for some excuse to dress up. Maybe I'll have to be weird and eccentric and do it anyway!

Two entries in one day - my, I'm wordy

As a result of my usual Sunday boredom, I've been sitting at my computer all afternoon. I have in my possession both Great Expectations and The Three Musketeers to enlighten my mind (or whatever), but really I can't be expected to read real live non-fluff books on a day like this. Actually, I can't really claim to have ever been into that kind of book, unless it was for bragging rights. "Yeah, I read Les Miserables and Ivanhoe. What of it? Doesn't everyone read classic literature for fun?" Okay, so Les Mis was abridged to like 300 pages, but I was only 12 or something, so that's almost like reading the real thing.

The reason for the aforementioned enlightening books is a list my sister sent me, almost like throwing down a gauntlet, asking how many of these supposedly NEA endorsed books I'd read. Sometime when I remember I'll post the list on here, although we've since decided that the list might not be legit based on the separate listings of Hamlet and The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. Apparently Hamlet isn't worthy of inclusion in Shakespeare's works. It's all that Ophelia's fault, crazy bi-otch.

But I digress. Rather than reading classic lit, or even Harry Potter or something, I've been web surfing. Too bad web surfing doesn't give you the same great bod as real surfing, or I'd be HOT! My cousin told me about a blog called Seriously, So Blessed that I've been meaning to get to, and I finally did. Holy. Freaking. Hilarious, Batman. I've been reading intently all afternoon. AND, to my extreme delight, that blog led me to others! It's been awesome! The only sad thing is, now I feel lame and stupid for not being nearly so clever. Maybe I should start reading some Jonathan Swift to get in a more cuttingly satirical frame of mind....

Anyhoo, here are the blogs that I'm now in love with:
Seriously, So Blessed
Pulsipher Predilections
The Blog Cabin
Bishop Higgins 3rd Ward - News for Mormons

The first blog does give me a little bit of a complex though. When I first came out to school here in Utah I was not so much appalled or shocked, but annoyed by the "Mormon culture" that is springing up into obnoxious cheesiness. But no matter how much I object to my religion becoming a culture as opposed to a faith, I'm pretty sure I've picked up on some of these idiosyncrasies and Seriously, So Blessed makes me painfully aware that I may be laughing at my own weaknesses. Yikes!

The last one is apparently a follower of my blog (maybe because I'm so ridiculously silly, like the girls Seriously, So Blessed makes fun of), and OH MAN it cracks me up. GOOD. TIMES.

Is it just me?

Um, so, heh heh... I may be insane.

Is it bad that I have so many hypothetical (a euphemism for imaginary) conversations with myself that I actually whisper out loud? That my lips move and my hands involuntarily gesture? That my moods actually change as a result (ex. I'm grumpy after a pretend fight, happy after a good joke session, etc.)?

I don't want to be the crazy bag lady in the park!!!

The great Dave Barry

It has come to my attention that some of my acquaintances have not heard of the writer Dave Barry, and so cannot worship him in all his awesome hilarity properly. I was just giggling and chuckling over an article of his and decided to post it here to prove that I'm not crazy, just properly devoted. Enjoy!

A story line with bite

People always ask me: ``Is it hard to be a professional writer like you and Joyce Carol Oates?''

Yes. Very hard. Here is a true example of the kind of difficulties we face: The other day, I was in sitting at my desk in my home office, doing what I do all day, which is frown at my computer screen and wrestle with professional writing issues, such as: ''Do I have anything to say about this topic?'' And: ''What, exactly, IS this topic?''

This is tiring work, so roughly 35,000 times a day I have to take a break to eat something or drink something or scratch something. At this particular moment, I reached to my left to pick up my can of Diet Coke, and

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

That is the screaming sound my brain made when it realized that my hand was, at most, two inches from a LIVE SNAKE. Really. As a South Florida resident, I'm used to having ants on my desk, but they are friendly, harmless and easy to smush. Whereas this was a full-blown snake, coiled for attack, with its head reared up and its tongue flicking out toward me, which is how snakes communicate the message: ``Hah! Perhaps you wish to die for your Diet Coke, Mister No-Topic Writer Man!''

Any wildlife expert will tell you that, when confronted with a potentially dangerous animal, you must remain calm and not make any sudden movements. That's why I always say: ''The hell with wildlife experts.'' Propelled almost entirely by my bun muscles, I shot, missile-like, from my chair, landing on my feet, clutching my keyboard in a defensive pose. The snake had not moved. It was clearly thinking: ``My species is millions of years old. I do not fear your keyboard.''

So I ran into the kitchen and grabbed what I felt was the best anti-snake weapon I own: barbecue tongs. Brandishing them, I went back to the office and lunged at the snake. The good news was: I was able to grab it. The bad news was: I grabbed it in its midsection, and it was long enough (I am estimating 17 feet) that it could easily reach my hands with its mouth, and it was flailing around in a very irate manner. Fortunately, I was able to keep a cool head, as we see by the following verbatim transcript of my thought process:

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

I dimly remember bursting out the patio door, with my outstretched arm gripping the tongs as far back on the handle as possible while the snake thrashed wildly. The instant I was outside I dropped the tongs, and the snake, now free to go anywhere in North America, proved that it was in fact the Evil Demon Serpent from Hell by slithering directly into the swimming pool. Head high, it began to briskly swim laps in a counterclockwise direction.

''Ha ha, Barbecue Boy!'' it was indicating. ``Perhaps you do not have a large enough pair of tongs to handle the likes of me!''

So I had no choice but to pick up the tongs again and chase the snake around the edge of the pool, in that schizophrenic way that you chase a critter when you are actually terrified of it. Like, if you see a crab or a squirrel in your path, you keep moving toward it, not because you are brave, but because you believe it will run away from you. But if it's one of those renegade crabs or squirrels that run in your direction, you -- admit it -- turn and flee, whimpering, because even though you're 200 times the critter's size, you're afraid that it will bite (or pinch) you, whereas you know in your heart that you will not bite (or pinch) it.

We just have to hope that more critters do not figure this out. That was the situation I found myself in, chasing the Demon Serpent around the pool. I'd get close enough to grab it with the tongs, and suddenly it would reverse direction, and WHOA I was fleeing from the snake. This went on for several minutes -- chasing the snake, fleeing from the snake, chasing the snake -- until finally the snake made the classic tactical error of going into the pool filter basket. Once again, I was able to get close enough to get the tongs on it and

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

This time, when I dropped the tongs, the snake went into the patio planter, where it disappeared. It's still out there somewhere, lurking, and now I'm a nervous wreck, wondering how it got into the house and where it will show up next.

I'm also exhausted. YOU try sleeping with barbecue tongs.

© 2008, Dave Barry

Yar!

I just wanted to say:

Argh, be havin' a wonderful Talk Like a Pirate Day.
Yeearrrrr.

Phavorite photos

This is vain, but I wanted to download some of my favorite pictures of me. If you were to ever visit my facebook account you'd see I change my picture like every two days. They're not always good pictures, they just express how I'm feeling. These are my good pictures, hee hee.

The first picture is the color I *want* my hair to be.

The second is the color it *insists* on staying.

This is how I feel about life usually.





But sometimes I feel like this,


Or this.


These are my most favorite kinds of pictures, the ones that best express my randomness:

Where's my rainbow? Heck, where's my ark??

I have terrible judgement, really I do. I'm bad at picking movies to watch, restaurants to eat at, and especially picking out apartments. Ever since my first horrible apartment, which was picked mostly out of abject fear of not moving fast enough to get a properly empty apartment (because my roommate had three other friends that just *had* to live with us) rather than out of experience and wisdom; I've had a run of crazy landlords/roommates/maintenance problems.

My sister and I fought tooth and nail in an exhaustive battle to get our heating/cooling system fixed so we could be cool in August, but warm by the end of September (how unreasonable of us); as well as to get our deadbolt fixed so we wouldn't be raped and/or killed in our beds (again, what jerks we are!). That was my craziest landlord.

Then it was the crazy roommates. There was the one who collected little bears - so many little bears, all over the apartment; one couldn't help but imagine them coming to life while looking into their beady glass eyes... maybe I'm the crazy one? Or there was the roommate who's friend would always bring his pet boa constrictor over to "play". He delighted in leaving it next to me, hoping that I would squeal or scream. I didn't, but oh boy did that boa want to eat me! Fortunately I was the bigger one. HA!

And the maintenance funnies. I moved to a basement room that seemed nice enough. Until I noticed my closet dripping, that is. Foolishly, I merely moved my clothes to the other closet and watched with curiosity until, to my horror, the closet ceiling collapsed under the pressure of water from the shower upstairs. That was fun times, living with a crazy big fan blowing ALL THE TIME until they deemed the carpet dry enough. After that I lived in another apartment that had BEES (or at least *a* bee) living in the vents of my bathroom. I steamed up the bathroom more than once after that, because there was NO WAY I was turning the fan on again.

My newest adventure took place in the form of yet another flood, but this one was of Epic Proportions! The girls above me mistook the sprinkler heads for hanger hooks and placed a hanger on one. Apparently some pulling or tugging of the hanger occurred, and all Hell broke loose. Well more accurately, a lot of water (about 600 gallons) came pouring from the ceiling. Of course that amount of water doesn't just sit there, so it made its merry way through their floor, which also happened to be *our* ceiling! After many angry mutterings and gasps of horror, my roommates and myself packed away our more perishable items (TVs, computers, bedding) and moved to a hotel. First is was two days, then three, now four. I hope to move home someday.

What I really want to know is: Noah got a rainbow promising no more troubles, where's mine??

Parking jerks

BYU just finished that wild and wacky time known as Education Week, where people from all over come and wander cluelessly about campus, make lots of noise, and take up all the available parking. So this past week whenever I came to use the computers at the library, parking was about as available as the Dodo bird. Yesterday, after a having a particularly bad morning, I came to relax and veg, but parking was really *really* bad! After circling and circling like a desperate vulture, I saw what was maybe... was it really?... it looked like a spot! I drove eagerly closer only to find that some JERK had parked about 2 feet into the next spot! Now these aren't narrow, impossibly small spots. We're talking about Utah, the land of the SUV. Spots are plenty big. And at a time like this where there has never been more traffic as a result of all the circling cars, who does that??

Anyway, there was just enough room for me to still park, but I decided to angle the car so that I could get out, but the moron couldn't get in. My front left bumper was about 2 inches from his door, mwa ha ha ha! Then I searched for some non identifiable scrap of paper (there was no way I wanted him/her tracking me down!) to leave a nasty note on. I was all poised to say something clever like, "Way to really uphold the BYU standards of sharing and kindness" but I decided that was overkill. My front bumper should explain loudly enough. As I got out, I saw that someone else had not been so restrained. There was already a note stuck in the windshield wipers! But then I noticed, with worry, that the note had the handicap guy on it.

I thought, 'Uh oh, what if this guy really is handicapped, but couldn't find a spot, and so he parked real far over so as to be able to get the wheelchair out? Am *I* the jerk?' So I naturally had to pull the note out a smidge to read it. I was in luck. Instead of being some sort of explanation of a disability to walk, it was a homemade calling card regarding the jerk-cars inability to park. The card said: "Handicapped parker - learn how to park, moron!"

Ha ha ha ha ha! It was so sweet. Printed on someone's computer, and apparently carried around for the very purpose of scolding crappy parkers. I did get a little worried that the driver would think I had left the note *and* blocked the door, and might key me. I briefly considered leaving another rude note just so he/she would know that more than one person had parked there. Then I thought, to hell with it. If they key me, it's not like it'll make my car look any worse!

The only downside to this hilarious story is that I unfortunately left before the crap parker did, so they never knew about my awesome door-blocking maneuver. However, I feel that blessed note probably expressed the innermost feelings of all his/her parking neighbors that day, so life is good.