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.

Fastest man in the world - huh, more like fastest apple thrower!

I'm not too much of a sports freak, I much prefer sleeping (hence my bio picture). So I haven't been following the Olympics these past few weeks. If anything, they annoy me late at night when I want to find ridiculous trash movies to watch, but can't because the speed walking competition is on (for reals!) or synchronized swimming chicks are flipping their fins (although I did actually watch that for a while, that takes some crazy leg muscle!). My mom is the same; we have better things to watch by golly. So I was surprised when she called me last night with some very exciting Olympics related news.

Apparently, the fastest man in the world is Tyson Gay. Sadly, he was not able to compete in the Olympics this year, despite everyone thinking he was a shoe-in for gold. Apparently he pulled a hamstring, or some such nonsense, and didn't make the cut. At any rate, there are still little blurbs about him being run during the Olympics, and Mom just happened to see one. She immediately recognized him as a resident of my hometown. Not only that, but a former student of hers. Not only that, but apparently a former mortal enemy of mine!

So this is the story straight from my mom's lips, mainly because I have no memory of this at all. One day she was called to the principle's office to find me sobbing hysterically after having been hit in the head with a rotten apple during lunch. Tenderly she hugged me and sent me home to clean up. Later that afternoon, a group of students came into her classroom laughing about the little white girl they pelted with an apple, to which my mother coldly said, "That was my daughter, gentlemen." And who was the leader of this gang? Who was the mastermind behind Applegate? None other than the fastest man in the world, Tyson Gay!

So even though I have no memory of the incident (something that I'm very curious about - why don't I remember this? I guess that apple hit harder than we thought), I felt that it was incumbent upon me to record it for posterity. Okay, really it's for bragging rights. One of the greatest athletes of this century pegged *me* with an apple, what have you got?

Gasoline induced stupidity

Okay, so I've never pretended to be good at math. I always just scratched by with the help of a tutor. But I thought I had mastered the skill of addition. Until today, that is.

Thanks to gasoline prices being SO RIDICULOUSLY HIGH, I've been coasting on fumes for as long as I could. Finally, the prices went down to $3.99 per gallon(!!omg!!). I went into the gas station to buy a coke, and saw a sign that said if I were to pay in cash, I could get the gas for 10 whole cents cheaper. WOO HOO! So I withdrew 20 bucks, paid for the whole shebang, and went out to pump.

I was standing there, feeling so smug about my awesome money saving skills, when it slowly dawned on me: $20 bought me 5 gallons of gas. At 10 cents less a gallon, I saved 50 cents. But since it cost me $1.50 to withdraw the cash in the first place, I actually LOST one whole dollar!

So there you have it. My desperation at the horrific hole gas money is leaving in my pocket cost me $1 in cash, and a fortune in personal pride. I guess it's back to paying at the pump for me!

Carwash wisdom

I saw this on a little sign outside of the carwash at a gas station, and it had to be recorded forever (or at least as long as I maintain this blog):

If you can't be kind, at least be vague.

Truly great.

Wikipedia disillusionment

So I know that wikipedia isn't like the Encyclopedia Britannica of my youth, the end all and be all of knowledge. I know that some of the information found there is questionable at best. But I still trusted it and looked to it often for answers to questions like where did vampire legends really start and what was the Vietnam War all about. All of that changed after hearing one horrific anecdotal tale told today in church.


A guy was telling some long and awful story about an elaborate prank he played. For some reason he told it as a preface to a Sunday School lesson about faith. He was a Resident Advisor for a dorm, and one of his innocent little residents, a superstitious boy from Mexico, was terrified of ghosts. So he took some sort of hunting device that plays the sounds of dying animals to lure coyotes, hid it in this kids room, and then (using a remote) activated it every night at 12:26. Naturally, the kid came to him terrified and he told the boy some story about a Mexican worker who died there and to make his story believable he posted the whole thing on wikipedia!!! So because the story was on the internet, and therefore 100% true, the kid spent every night of his dorm experience in fear. He would pray each night that the "ghost" wouldn't harm him!

Not only was the story itself horrific (how the hell did he think that would make him believable as a teacher of Christ's message???), but I've now lost all my faith in wikipedia. If that one stupid guy (well, not really stupid since that was a pretty elaborate plot he thought up) could make a believable wikipedia entry for his own amusement, how can I trust any of the other entries? For all I know they're all made up! I feel like I just found out Santa Claus isn't real. Sigh.

More zombie adventures - part 2

This is just a brief list of etiquette tips for young zombie gentlemen acting in zombie films.

* When someone tells you to wear "old clothes" they generally mean worn clothes that you don't mind treating roughly as opposed to your costume from Pirates of Penzance.
* Before creepily hitting on the makeup artist, you should probably learn her name.
* The following aren't good ways to flirt with girls you barely know: cheesy quotes from "Robin Hood Prince of Thieves," pretending to bite girls on the neck, yelling at any other guys who try to interact with said girls, following those girls everywhere they go.
* It's not nice to throw things at chubby girls who can't chase you obtain revenge.
* For the sake of the filming process maybe you shouldn't dance behind the people being filmed so that you won't be in the background of the shot. For that matter, dancing in front of those being filmed is also not good because then they can't be serious and deadly as an actor needs to be in a zombie film.

Those are the observations I made. I know there were more, but it was a month ago and memory fades!

More zombie adventures - Part 1

Well once again I took part in the filming adventure that is Arkea Productions' Day/Night. This time I participated by doing the makeup, entertaining the zombies by acting as a target for their pine cone throwing games, and being a zombie myself.

Doing the makeup was fun, but it was the first time I've done it without some theater student around to show me the real way to do it, and it was also the first time we didn't have white foundation so hopefully no one will notice that in this footage the zombies are flesh colored instead of white. But really, why should they be white? Either all their bodily function froze (including the rotting thing) and so they look just the same as when they died (plus whatever little wear and tear they've experienced along the way), or they continue the life cycle and so they'd be greenish looking. But white? These aren't zombie ghosts!

Being the target for pine cone throwing practice was not so fun. Apparently something in my genetic makeup or my overall aura is irresistible to those who like to torment others. I've been told that people "just can't help" teasing me. So when the zombies were experiencing down time, they threw pine cones at me from all different sides and angles. Of course being the klutzy oaf I am, there was never any possibility of me catching them, which just made it all the more fun. At least they stopped standing behind the camera dancing and trying to make the actors laugh!

As for my zombie role, well I've already been killed quite a few times for this film. Once David even hit me on the head with his shovel by accident, so I was almost killed for reals. This time I pulled all my hair over my face and hoped no one would pay attention. It's fun being undead!

Part 2 will include more about the aforementioned zombie/pirate and the pine cone throwing boys. Stay tuned.

Worst Week Ever

This week has been full of... interesting events that have arguably made it the worst week ever.

1) I found out that the girl who tricked me into switching apartments in January also neglected to tell me when I moved back in that my fall contract was up for sale, so now I have to move mid August.
2) The most recent of failed job interviews failed because if I'm not interested in working on Sundays, they aren't interested in hiring me.
3) My four year old cousin leaned over to me last night, stroked my cheek, and said, "I feel that you're growing a beard."
4) I got hit on in a very CREEPY way by a guy dressed as some sort of zombie/pirate.
5) I stepped on some glass and it hurt.

There you have it, worst week ever. More about creepy zombie/pirate guys later.

Crazy Dogs Attack Old Lady! You Heard it Here First!

I hate when I'm late for church; not out of guilt, but because I have to do the Walk of Shame: skulking to whatever seat is available during the bishop's announcements while everyone gives you the evil eye. So yesterday it was a moment of pride and joy when I was ready 7 minutes before church started, meaning I would get there about 2 minutes early. That's when it happened. Just as I was looking for my keys and a pen, the doorbell rang (dum dum dum!). I figured somebody had forgotten their keys, or possibly someone needed a ride. I was definitely not expecting the little old lady who was standing at my door. I would place her between 65 and 75 based on the old lady walking shoes, matching shirt/pants outfit, carefully dyed and styled hair, and smeared lipstick. She was very distraught. As I opened the door, the following conversation occurred:

Old Lady - I was taking a walk and two big dogs came at me. They scared me half to death! Should we call the police??
Me - (thinking two things: '"We"? What's this "we" business,' and then 'Thanks universe. I was actually going to be on time today. I wonder, if I just run out to my car really fast, will she follow me? No, I better help her. Maybe I'll get some heavenly brownie points.') Um, sit down, let me get my phone. Were the dogs wearing collars? Had you seen them before?
Old Lady - I don't know, but they scared me half to death. We should get the police.
Me - Well, okay, do you know what number to call? (thinking that based on her insistence about the police she must call them all the time)
Old Lady - No. The man down the street said they run around all the time.
Me - (searching through the phone book for the appropriate number and finally choosing Animal Control) Well what's the address where you found the dogs? (I wrote the address down and waited for the Animal Control folks to pick up.)
Animal Control - Police dispatch, what's your emergency?
Me - Well, there's a lady at my apartment who says she was frightened by some big dogs running loose.
Animal Control - Well... did they attack anyone? Do you have a description of them?
Me - (to the crazy lady) Did they bite you?
Old Lady - No.
Me - What did they look like?
Old Lady - Well, they were big and black. They scared me half to death!
Animal Control - (after I passed this on) Well... I don't have anyone on active duty today so unless the dogs actually attacked someone, we won't be sending anyone out.
Me - (feeling desperate because the old lady expected me to somehow make this right) Can I at least give you the approximate address the dogs were seen? (I gave the info and hung up, then ushered her out the door) Well, they said they'd come by if the dogs keep causing problems. I hope you have a better day!

So I got to church late. Once again, the evil eye was generously passed my way as I found a seat and I wanted so bad to stand up and say, "There was a crazy lady! It wasn't my fault!" But I resisted, and instead am here telling it to you. Beware the monstrous roving dogs, who in reality were probably out to pee and just wanted to play. They'll get ya!

Venting

So last night I was talking to a friend of mine who just needed to vent about the evils she suffers from in her life. After a bit she stopped and asked if it was wrong to vent about her husband/children/job, or if she shouldn't just keep it all inside, and that led to the serious thinking that this post is a result of. I thought up a clever little analogy involving oysters and humans. I know, it's far from perfect but it still works in my mind and this is my blog SO THERE.

If you take a piece of grit and put it inside an oyster, the oyster will turn it and coat it and make it into a beautiful pearl. If, on the other hand, you take that same grit and stick it under the skin of a human it will fester and get really gross and icky. I think that sometimes our inner problems are the same. Occasionally the universe throws us problems that we can internalize, work out for ourselves, and make into pearls. But quite a lot of the time our problems can fester inside and become more serious than if we had just let them out. Anytime you need someone to talk to, I'm here for ya *wink*.

What I guess I'm trying to say is that I'm always glad to listen to issues. I'd rather they get out in the open so they can heal than sit under the surface and seethe into a deeper more serious problem.

Zombie Adventures

So my brother David, the co-creator of the Zooby News Team as well as such short films as Searching for Sasquatch and Uncovering Unicorns, is now co-directing and producing a full length film entitled Day/Night. The idea the movie explores is that one day zombies might actually become a reality. "So?" you might say, "Don't we already have Dawn of the Dead, Shawn of the Dead, Night of the Living Dead, and so forth covering this topic?" Well, yes, but those movies mostly deal with the immediate reaction to a zombie uprising. This movie will deal with surviving for the long term. What happens after the people make it through the zombie swarms to the remote island? How do they survive? Day/Night answers all these questions and more. As always, I am my brother's biggest fan and his willing assistant/slave in this project for whatever he needs. So far that has included smothering my face in liquid latex to be a zombie (tearing off my eyebrows in the process), getting hit on the head with a shovel, driving car loads of people to kingdom come. Today my role was a little more adventurous.

My brother's idea is that in the event of a zombie invasion, people will hole up away from the places that were heavily populate deep in the woods/countryside. Not only do they get to hide away from the zombies, but this also means we don't have to try to build any elaborate sets or find abandoned apartments to film in. Today's scene was to be filmed at the entrance of a cave, the cave the survivors are living in, and I was going to be the Camera Girl. Unfortunately there was a cement blockade and a cop car blocking us from driving to the cave, and the stream that was fordable in late winter has now become a raging river. So my brother decided we would come at the cave entrance in a more... vertical fashion, by which I mean that we drove to a lookout directly over the cave mouth and attempted to climb down.

First let me say that I'm not the most athletic of girls, partly because I have asthma and mostly because I'm lazy. But in the name of art (or theater?) I'm willing to try anything. Unfortunately for me, that didn't change the fact that I was wearing Jelly Shoes, that the terrain consisted of both shale and loose dirt rather than convenient stairs or ladder rungs, that the wind was blowing about 70 mph, or that I have absolutely no sense of balance. So rather than skipping merrily down to the cave entrance, I stumbled and huffed my way yards behind my brother and his co-creator/cast member. Finally I caught up to them only to find that the ground had switched from the not-so-ideal loose ground to even worse sheer rock. As it turned out, we were no match for a rock face worn smooth by decades of running water. No problem, right? We turned around and headed due north.

This is where I became a hassle rather than a help. I'm pretty sure after today that if there were zombies, I'd be the first sacrificed to their clutches. But I digress. Once again I quickly fell behind the men, but this time it wasn't because the rocks in my jellies were cutting my toes, it was because the asthma was seizing and clutching my lungs. Or maybe it was because I'm way out of shape. At any rate, long before I reached the top I was convinced I would collapse and be left to join the mysterious skeletal remains I found mingling in the shale. But before I could give up for good, the cheerful calls of my brother pulled me on until I finally made it to the top.

For future reference I'll be glad to help in any way the cast and crew need, unless it involves hiking!

ADDENDUM: Since I'm vain and self important, I wanted to add this quote from another blog (wewatch.wordpress.com) about my participation in the aforementioned zombie movie:
"Susan too–a queen of unyielding support...." Hey, it's not much but it's all about me.

Privacy out the window

So I told my family members about this blog, because I couldn't remember the reasoning I had for not telling them to begin with. Now I have confessions I want to make about the weaker side of my nature, and I can't because I have visions of my mother reading all about the ways I fall short! Dang. That's why I never told anyone this blog existed. I never minded the idea of complete strangers reading about me and my flaws, but not the people I know! Although honestly, they probably recognize way more of my weaknesses than I ever could so really it's just me being vain.

I'm back!

Okay, so I started this blog and then got bored. Why? Probably because my life is boring really. And also because I never told anyone about its existance. But my sisters have been blogging lately, and they are SOO clever and interesting that I feel ashamed and a little competetive. So I begin again! Let's see how long my blogging lasts this time *wink*!

Adventuring

Well, I've been thinking a lot about the types of movies and books I like, and despite a few sneaky sappy romance types, it seems my ideal life style would be swashbuckling, evil fighting (or maybe doing?), save-the-day type of stuff. But really, being sensible, who could live like that? I mean honestly, my friends and family are big into the show 24, and while part of me understands that obsession, the other part says, "But when do you go to the bathroom?" Still, despite all that logic, I love to imerse myself in these stories, imagining myself in the hero role. None of this waiting around to be rescued for me, thank you very much!

A few of my favorite things...

I just wanted to take a minute to post a few of my very favorite time wasters... er, time spenders rather, on this; my blog. I love the following websites:

kentbroadbent.net - also the ramblings of a 20-something year old, but much more intelligent than mine
homestarrunner.com - a freakin' hilarious web-toon
redvsblue.com - also a very funny web-toon with slightly more adult content/language
runescape.com - okay, this is a losery thing, but this is a RPG that I love playing
imdb.com - where would I be without my useless movie trivia?
davebarry.com (the blog- it rocks) - ah, humorists...
slate.com - an actual news site

I know there are more, but I can't think of them now. Anyway, these are the ones I truly love.

Life, the Universe and Everything

Well, I don't really actually have anything to say. I just feel bad for not posting anything in almost a year. How is everyone out there in the cosmos? Life treating you well? I act as though anyone is reading this (well acutally I did get a comment or two back there) and maybe no one is. But, did you ever think that we were all being watched from somewhere out there? Okay, I'm sounding a little Mulderish, but sometimes I wonder, 'What if I'm part of some huge TV show and bigger people are watching us?' So today I greet those people. All right, enough weirdness. Kirk out.