So, apparently what I did battle with yesterday was not a silver fish. In fact, it was a centipede. I found a picture of exactly what it looked like:
AHHHHHH!!!! Isn't that the scariest thing you've ever seen in your life????? It was about an inch and half long and had those nasty ass legs. I'm seriously still getting the heebie-jeebies when I think about it. BLEH!! I'm convulsing right now in case you were all wondering.
Heebie-jeebies is the best expression ever. I think "Heebie-Jeebies" would be a good break-up song. I think it would go like this:
You used to give me chills
Because I thought you were so
Won-der-ful.
You used to make me feel
So Fu-zzy inside.
But now I realize...
They were just the Heebie-Jeebies!
The Heebie-Jeebies!
Yeah, the Heebie-Jeebies
You're a creep.
You're a loser.
And I wish I never knew ya!
...the Heebie-Jeebies.
You used to make me
Weak in the knees
You to have me beggin'
Darling please.
Now all I feel for you is
The Heebie-Jeebies!!
The Heebie-Jeebies!!
Your face
And your eyes
Your smile
Like a gross suprise
Whenever they pop inside my mind...
THE HEEBIE-JEEBIES!
Oh, Oh, Oh, the Heebie-Jeebies!!
You're a creep.
You're a loser.
And I wish I never knew ya!
...the Heebie-Jeebies.
You remind me of the nasty centipede
That ran around my tub and gave me...
The Heebie-Jeebies!
Yeah, yeah, yeah...the Heebie-Jeebies!
The Heebie-Jeebies
Heebie
Jeebie
Heebie
Jeebie
Heeb
Ie
Jeeb
Ie
Heebie-Jeebies.
Oh, yeaaaaahhh.
That's my song guys. Hope you liked it. Yeah, I know it's amazing. The Grammy is in the mail.
WORD OF THE DAY
Centipede: Any of various wormlike arthropods of the class Chilopoda, having a flattened body composed of segments, each bearing a pair of jointed appendages. The appendages of the foremost body segment are modified into venomous biting organs with which it preys on insects, such as cockroaches.
And now. In a sentence:
The violent and unruly centipede that took over Amy's shower nearly killed her with it's venomous appendages.
QUOTE OF THE DAY
So I was going through some old stuff and I found this quote of the day from a while ago (back when I had a livejournal). It's hilarious.
SARA (re the hours of fun she had with her my little
ponies): and my parents would be like whats going on? And I would be like..PONIES ON PARADE!!
Friday, August 31, 2007
Thursday, August 30, 2007
City Living Drama Series #1: Amy vs. The Giant-Million-Legged-Sliver-Fish
Amy woke up this morning feeling pretty good about life. Sure it was 6:00am, but Amy doesn't mind getting up early and Amy has recently adopted a very Mary Tyler Moore attitude about life in general. It involves turning the world on with her smile, taking a nothing day and suddenly make it seem worth while, and occassionally throwing her hat in the air in jubilation when she realizes, she's going to make it after all.
But that all was about to change...fast.
After checking her email and making herself a lunch for the day Amy thought it might be a good idea to shower as she often does in the morning. Like many Americans and I guess, people in general, Amy wears glasses. Amy cannot see very well without her glasses. Not seeing well if probably the reason she wears glasses in the first place, so when they're not on...she doesn't see well at all! A lot of times when Amy is not wearing her glasses (like in bed) she sees things and isn't sure what they are. Like sometimes she sees a spec on her ceiling and thinks its a spider, but then she puts her glasses on and realizes, "Oh that's not a spider it's just the same spec I always think it a spider. Phew."
Amy also does not wear her glasses in the shower. (Cue forboding music)
So Amy gets in the shower this morning and doesn't notice anything amiss.
She does her shower business.
Amy is just finishing up her final rinse off when she notices a spec in the shower with her.
"Funny," Amy thinks to herself. "That spec wasn't there when I got in the shower I don't think. Oh well, it's probably one of those things I always think it something else when all it really is is a spec."
Then the spec started to move. The spec started to move very, very fast.
Immediately Amy jumped out of the shower. She threw on her glasses and looked in the shower to see...A GIANT-MILLION-LEGGED-SILVER-FISH!!!! It was trying to climb up the edge of the tub, but couldn't because it was wet. Amy makes her face and sounds she makes when something really bad it about to happen. Ask her for a demonstration if you know her. If you don't know her, she makes this sound whenever anything bad is about to happen...like if she almost gets in an accident, like if she almost sees someone get in an accident, like if something scary/gross happens on TV. What she does is contort her face and make a noise that is not at all a scream, it's kind of a constipated, urgent, grunt.
So Amy makes her constipated-urgent-grunt noise and tries to assess what to do. She is dripping wet.
The first thing Amy does is get a towel.
Amy wonders if she should got get a paper towel and just smash it. But this would involved getting close to with her hand and is not something Amy wants to do. Also, Amy is naked. And even though she has the towel wrapped around her Amy feels vulnerable when she's naked and this nasty bug is making her feel even more vulnerable so she decides to go get dressed quickly.
Amy goes and gets dressed. She puts shoes on because she decides the best way to kill the bug would be to throw a paper towel on it and then step on it.
She stops at her computer to check the weather.
Amy realizes she's going to feel worse if she doesn't take care of the bug (more like mutant alien bug) and grabs a wad of paper towels and goes to the bathroom to take care of the mutant alien.
Amy goes into the bathroom and looks in the shower.
The mutant alien bug is not where Amy left it.
Amy panics and looks around wildlly expecting to see the mutant alien bug and 300 of its closest friends poised for attack.
Amy sees nothing and thinks that this might be worse.
Amy cautiously pokes around the shower and shower curtain.
All the sudden the mutant alien bug shakes loose from somewhere on the shower curtain and is now running rampant circles around the tub.
Amy squeals. Yes, even lesbians squeal when they see disgusting nasty bugs.
The mutant alien bug stops. Amy seizes the opportunity, says, "Sorry you have to die." And throws the wad of paper towels onto the bug and SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! With her shoed foot.
Crisis averted?
Nay, friends, nay.
The mutant alien bug found saftey in the curve of the tub and quickly runs out from under the wad of paper towels.
Amy squeals and jumps out of the tub, she has to pace in and out of the bathroom for a few minutes. I believe in the sport world they call this, "walking it off."
Amy was walking it off.
Amy is scared.
She goes and gets another wad of paper towels and goes back to the bathroom. The mutant alien bug is waiting for her. She throws the paper towels on it again, but it hesitates and is not quick enough to step on it and the bug once again, runs out from under.
Amy whines.
She stares at the bug a while and wonders where the hell it came from and if she should be worried about this things killing her in her sleep.
Amy then gets a "fantastik" idea. She will poison the mutant alien with bathroom cleaner! She looks under the sink and finds a bottle of 409. She approaches the tub and starts to spray the mutant alien with the cleaner.
The mutant alien bug FREAKS out. It starts running crazy circles around the tub, Amy starts to wonder if the cleaner instead of killing the bug will make it mutate into something 10 times it's size. Suddenly, the bug slows. It seems to have gotten caught in a puddle of cleaner/water.
For a second Amy feels bad for it, its useless legs laying straight out. Then Amy realizes this is the mutant alien bug's weakest and she should sieze the opportunity and not screw it up.
She throws the paper towel over it and this time makes sure she SMASHES every where and ever part of the paper towel. SHe cautiously lifts the paper towel, expecting the mutant alien bug to leap out at her. It doesn't it's dead and smashed, several of it's leg's are floating in the puddle it got stuck in. Grossed out, Amy wipes it all up and throws the gut-ridden wad into the trash. After closing the lid she has a minor spaz-attack which is basically when you feel like you have bugs crawling all over you.
Then Amy ate some breakfast.
She felt very good about being able to kill the bug herself, even if it did take her 15 minutes.
But that all was about to change...fast.
After checking her email and making herself a lunch for the day Amy thought it might be a good idea to shower as she often does in the morning. Like many Americans and I guess, people in general, Amy wears glasses. Amy cannot see very well without her glasses. Not seeing well if probably the reason she wears glasses in the first place, so when they're not on...she doesn't see well at all! A lot of times when Amy is not wearing her glasses (like in bed) she sees things and isn't sure what they are. Like sometimes she sees a spec on her ceiling and thinks its a spider, but then she puts her glasses on and realizes, "Oh that's not a spider it's just the same spec I always think it a spider. Phew."
Amy also does not wear her glasses in the shower. (Cue forboding music)
So Amy gets in the shower this morning and doesn't notice anything amiss.
She does her shower business.
Amy is just finishing up her final rinse off when she notices a spec in the shower with her.
"Funny," Amy thinks to herself. "That spec wasn't there when I got in the shower I don't think. Oh well, it's probably one of those things I always think it something else when all it really is is a spec."
Then the spec started to move. The spec started to move very, very fast.
Immediately Amy jumped out of the shower. She threw on her glasses and looked in the shower to see...A GIANT-MILLION-LEGGED-SILVER-FISH!!!! It was trying to climb up the edge of the tub, but couldn't because it was wet. Amy makes her face and sounds she makes when something really bad it about to happen. Ask her for a demonstration if you know her. If you don't know her, she makes this sound whenever anything bad is about to happen...like if she almost gets in an accident, like if she almost sees someone get in an accident, like if something scary/gross happens on TV. What she does is contort her face and make a noise that is not at all a scream, it's kind of a constipated, urgent, grunt.
So Amy makes her constipated-urgent-grunt noise and tries to assess what to do. She is dripping wet.
The first thing Amy does is get a towel.
Amy wonders if she should got get a paper towel and just smash it. But this would involved getting close to with her hand and is not something Amy wants to do. Also, Amy is naked. And even though she has the towel wrapped around her Amy feels vulnerable when she's naked and this nasty bug is making her feel even more vulnerable so she decides to go get dressed quickly.
Amy goes and gets dressed. She puts shoes on because she decides the best way to kill the bug would be to throw a paper towel on it and then step on it.
She stops at her computer to check the weather.
Amy realizes she's going to feel worse if she doesn't take care of the bug (more like mutant alien bug) and grabs a wad of paper towels and goes to the bathroom to take care of the mutant alien.
Amy goes into the bathroom and looks in the shower.
The mutant alien bug is not where Amy left it.
Amy panics and looks around wildlly expecting to see the mutant alien bug and 300 of its closest friends poised for attack.
Amy sees nothing and thinks that this might be worse.
Amy cautiously pokes around the shower and shower curtain.
All the sudden the mutant alien bug shakes loose from somewhere on the shower curtain and is now running rampant circles around the tub.
Amy squeals. Yes, even lesbians squeal when they see disgusting nasty bugs.
The mutant alien bug stops. Amy seizes the opportunity, says, "Sorry you have to die." And throws the wad of paper towels onto the bug and SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! With her shoed foot.
Crisis averted?
Nay, friends, nay.
The mutant alien bug found saftey in the curve of the tub and quickly runs out from under the wad of paper towels.
Amy squeals and jumps out of the tub, she has to pace in and out of the bathroom for a few minutes. I believe in the sport world they call this, "walking it off."
Amy was walking it off.
Amy is scared.
She goes and gets another wad of paper towels and goes back to the bathroom. The mutant alien bug is waiting for her. She throws the paper towels on it again, but it hesitates and is not quick enough to step on it and the bug once again, runs out from under.
Amy whines.
She stares at the bug a while and wonders where the hell it came from and if she should be worried about this things killing her in her sleep.
Amy then gets a "fantastik" idea. She will poison the mutant alien with bathroom cleaner! She looks under the sink and finds a bottle of 409. She approaches the tub and starts to spray the mutant alien with the cleaner.
The mutant alien bug FREAKS out. It starts running crazy circles around the tub, Amy starts to wonder if the cleaner instead of killing the bug will make it mutate into something 10 times it's size. Suddenly, the bug slows. It seems to have gotten caught in a puddle of cleaner/water.
For a second Amy feels bad for it, its useless legs laying straight out. Then Amy realizes this is the mutant alien bug's weakest and she should sieze the opportunity and not screw it up.
She throws the paper towel over it and this time makes sure she SMASHES every where and ever part of the paper towel. SHe cautiously lifts the paper towel, expecting the mutant alien bug to leap out at her. It doesn't it's dead and smashed, several of it's leg's are floating in the puddle it got stuck in. Grossed out, Amy wipes it all up and throws the gut-ridden wad into the trash. After closing the lid she has a minor spaz-attack which is basically when you feel like you have bugs crawling all over you.
Then Amy ate some breakfast.
She felt very good about being able to kill the bug herself, even if it did take her 15 minutes.
Labels:
Animals,
Awkwardness,
Being A Dumbass,
Scary Things
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Back to School, Back to School
Well, it's back to school for me. I had my first day of classes yesterday and so far, so good. I'm in an acting class this semester that I'm really excited for. My other theatre class this semester is a Dramatic Literature class, which should be fabulous. My other three classes are just Gen Eds. They're going to suck. It seems like for the low level Ged Ed classes my school hires inexperienced teachers working on their PhDs. Which, hey I understand every body has to start somewhere and what else you gonna do when you're working on your PhD besides teach a bunch of college students who don't give a shit about Political Philosophy? But my Gen Ed classes this semester meet once a week for two and half hours. If you are a sucky teacher, sitting through your class for two and half hours is going to be really hard. I took a class like that last semester and sitting through it made me want to poke my eye out with my pen so I could have an excuse to leave. Seriously.
"Um, professor? I'm really sorry to interrupt your stirring lecture, but my eye fell out. I really think I should go as much as I hate to miss the next hour and half of you enjoying the sound of your own voice."
"You eye just fell out, Amy?"
"Yeah, weird huh? I swear I didn't poke it out with my pen."
"Do you want any help to the nurse?"
"No, it's cool. The other eye is still in so I'll be fine."
Don't get me wrong. I'm probably one of the most gung-ho proprietors of education you will ever meet. I think education is extremely important. I LOVE learning. I feel very thankful for the very fact I have an opportunity to get an education. Even if the class makes me want to poke out my eye with my pen, I still usually find something interesting about the material. And I feel like everything I learn feeds into my desire to become a well-informed, articulate artist.
That said.
If the class is two and half goddamn hours long you think you'd get a prof who had a little more confidence in front of a stifling hot room of 40 college age students staring up at the front of the room with blank stares.
Ha. I have this one class with a lady who I swear is older than the professor. How awkward would that student-professor affair be???
Anyway. Enough about all that. So these past few days I have encountered lots of interesting things:
-Ok, so I was driving and I saw this truck with a sticker on it's back that read, "Safety is our goal." Um good for you trucking company. But don't you think safety shouldn't be so much as a goal but a standard? I mean, 'cause goals are great and all but goals are more things you hope to achieve or I'll even go so far to say as have a really good chance of achieving. I would hope safety would be a given. What that sticker really says is, "Hey, we like safety...but sometimes it just doesn't happen. Sometimes, we bathe with toasters."
-Ok, so yesterday I saw this lady with a baby strapped to her torso (you know in one of those strap-your-baby-to-your-torso-things) and the lady was also walking a dog, it was a fairly large dog. So the lady walks by me heading north. 5 minutes later, she walks by me again heading South (I don't know why you need to know the directions she was going. I guess it makes my story seem more important)...so she walks by me again heading South, literally 5 minutes later...I'm waiting for a bus...BUT the funny thing is that when she walked by me the second time she didn't have the dog any more!! Ok, so maybe it's not as crazy as it seemed in the moment. I suppose it was better than her walking by me a second time with the strap-you-baby-to-your-torso-thing without a baby. Or walking by me a second time dragging a dog leash with no dog.
-Um. Apple Jacks. I ate some the other day and here's the thing...THEY DON'T TASTE LIKE APPLES. Ok, I vaguely remember being a kid and seeing commercials for Apple Jacks and that being the central theme of the commercial. That they didn't taste like apples but kids liked them anyway and adults never understood why they could eat something called Apple Jacks that didn't taste like apples. Maybe when you start questioning why Apple Jacks don't taste like apples is when you officially cross over into adulthood. Because yesterday I was seriously eating them like, "I just don't understand this!! HOW can they call this cereal APPLE Jacks??? It has nothing to do with APPLES! This is an outrage!"
So I guess maybe that means I am no longer a child. I can officially call myself an adult because I question the name choice and taste of Apple Jacks instead of just being happy to eat them because they are sugary and delicious.
...Then again I still do sleep with a giant stuffed dog-bear so maybe I'm not quite as adult as I think.
-I saw the HAUTEST site EVER the other day, guys. TWO chicks…dressed in the exact same ugly ass black dress (it looked like a low cut t-shirt nightgown with no sleeves), with similar handbags slung over their right shoulders, wearing similar huge wind-shield style sunglasses that took up half their faces, fake orange tans, and smoking their cigs. And I thought to myself, “Why oh why can’t I reel myself in a winner like one of those two fine, fine sexy ladies??”
"Um, professor? I'm really sorry to interrupt your stirring lecture, but my eye fell out. I really think I should go as much as I hate to miss the next hour and half of you enjoying the sound of your own voice."
"You eye just fell out, Amy?"
"Yeah, weird huh? I swear I didn't poke it out with my pen."
"Do you want any help to the nurse?"
"No, it's cool. The other eye is still in so I'll be fine."
Don't get me wrong. I'm probably one of the most gung-ho proprietors of education you will ever meet. I think education is extremely important. I LOVE learning. I feel very thankful for the very fact I have an opportunity to get an education. Even if the class makes me want to poke out my eye with my pen, I still usually find something interesting about the material. And I feel like everything I learn feeds into my desire to become a well-informed, articulate artist.
That said.
If the class is two and half goddamn hours long you think you'd get a prof who had a little more confidence in front of a stifling hot room of 40 college age students staring up at the front of the room with blank stares.
Ha. I have this one class with a lady who I swear is older than the professor. How awkward would that student-professor affair be???
Anyway. Enough about all that. So these past few days I have encountered lots of interesting things:
-Ok, so I was driving and I saw this truck with a sticker on it's back that read, "Safety is our goal." Um good for you trucking company. But don't you think safety shouldn't be so much as a goal but a standard? I mean, 'cause goals are great and all but goals are more things you hope to achieve or I'll even go so far to say as have a really good chance of achieving. I would hope safety would be a given. What that sticker really says is, "Hey, we like safety...but sometimes it just doesn't happen. Sometimes, we bathe with toasters."
-Ok, so yesterday I saw this lady with a baby strapped to her torso (you know in one of those strap-your-baby-to-your-torso-things) and the lady was also walking a dog, it was a fairly large dog. So the lady walks by me heading north. 5 minutes later, she walks by me again heading South (I don't know why you need to know the directions she was going. I guess it makes my story seem more important)...so she walks by me again heading South, literally 5 minutes later...I'm waiting for a bus...BUT the funny thing is that when she walked by me the second time she didn't have the dog any more!! Ok, so maybe it's not as crazy as it seemed in the moment. I suppose it was better than her walking by me a second time with the strap-you-baby-to-your-torso-thing without a baby. Or walking by me a second time dragging a dog leash with no dog.
-Um. Apple Jacks. I ate some the other day and here's the thing...THEY DON'T TASTE LIKE APPLES. Ok, I vaguely remember being a kid and seeing commercials for Apple Jacks and that being the central theme of the commercial. That they didn't taste like apples but kids liked them anyway and adults never understood why they could eat something called Apple Jacks that didn't taste like apples. Maybe when you start questioning why Apple Jacks don't taste like apples is when you officially cross over into adulthood. Because yesterday I was seriously eating them like, "I just don't understand this!! HOW can they call this cereal APPLE Jacks??? It has nothing to do with APPLES! This is an outrage!"
So I guess maybe that means I am no longer a child. I can officially call myself an adult because I question the name choice and taste of Apple Jacks instead of just being happy to eat them because they are sugary and delicious.
...Then again I still do sleep with a giant stuffed dog-bear so maybe I'm not quite as adult as I think.
-I saw the HAUTEST site EVER the other day, guys. TWO chicks…dressed in the exact same ugly ass black dress (it looked like a low cut t-shirt nightgown with no sleeves), with similar handbags slung over their right shoulders, wearing similar huge wind-shield style sunglasses that took up half their faces, fake orange tans, and smoking their cigs. And I thought to myself, “Why oh why can’t I reel myself in a winner like one of those two fine, fine sexy ladies??”
Sunday, August 26, 2007
How To Survive A Power Outage/Massive Storm Damage
Hey guys. So I put together some pointers in case any of you are without power for a while like I was. Here are my suggestions/pointers:
-Gas Station Breakfasts. A can of Diet Coke and a bag of Reese's Pieces does the body good early in the morning. And yes. I did get and eat this Saturday morning, I am not ashamed. I prided myself on the fact that I passed up the bottle of Diet Coke and opted for the can instead.
- Annoy younger, 18-year old brothers. You do this by annoyingly asking, "Want to play the questions game?" And then you ask annoying questions like, "If you could be any color what would you be and why?" or "What do you think about when you're alone?" Usually it's met by responses such as "I would be the color, Go Screw Yourself."
-Annoy younger, 18-year old brothers some more. You do this by saying, "Let's tell a story! But we can only say one sentence at a time. I'll start. Once upon a time there was a princess...Ok. Your turn. Say a sentence." Usually met by dull stare.
-Speculate with neighbors A LOT. It's really fun to make crap up, too. Such as, "I heard there was this little old lady walking her cat when the storm hit. The storm picked her up and threw her four blocks. She broke both her hips. And her cat? The found it, alive, stuck in a tree in INDIANA!" Mostly you just speculate about when the power is going to come back. Like, "I heard by tonight." "I heard by tomorrow morning." "I heard it could take weeks!!" Proper etiquette for speculating with neighbors: Congregate in front of someone's house, stand in a circle. Swap stories, trying to one-up each other on the craziness of each story. Shake your head a lot. Say, "Wow, that's crazy." A lot. Say, "Unbelievable" a lot too.
-Play games like, "Find You Way Around the Closed Roads." And, "Don't Get Stuck in the Flood Waters!" And, "Hey, Dodge that Falling and/or Flying Branch!"
Ok. I really missed the Internet so much, guys. Two and a half days without it...two days with no access to my blog. I'm not gonna lie...it was rough.
I mostly missed the Internet for crap like this:
I'm so glad you're back Internet. So glad. It's been too long icanhascheezburger.com too long.
Hahaha...I think this picture accurately depicts how I felt when I was younger and was made to wear dresses too. I feel your pain little kitty. I feel your pain.
-Gas Station Breakfasts. A can of Diet Coke and a bag of Reese's Pieces does the body good early in the morning. And yes. I did get and eat this Saturday morning, I am not ashamed. I prided myself on the fact that I passed up the bottle of Diet Coke and opted for the can instead.
- Annoy younger, 18-year old brothers. You do this by annoyingly asking, "Want to play the questions game?" And then you ask annoying questions like, "If you could be any color what would you be and why?" or "What do you think about when you're alone?" Usually it's met by responses such as "I would be the color, Go Screw Yourself."
-Annoy younger, 18-year old brothers some more. You do this by saying, "Let's tell a story! But we can only say one sentence at a time. I'll start. Once upon a time there was a princess...Ok. Your turn. Say a sentence." Usually met by dull stare.
-Speculate with neighbors A LOT. It's really fun to make crap up, too. Such as, "I heard there was this little old lady walking her cat when the storm hit. The storm picked her up and threw her four blocks. She broke both her hips. And her cat? The found it, alive, stuck in a tree in INDIANA!" Mostly you just speculate about when the power is going to come back. Like, "I heard by tonight." "I heard by tomorrow morning." "I heard it could take weeks!!" Proper etiquette for speculating with neighbors: Congregate in front of someone's house, stand in a circle. Swap stories, trying to one-up each other on the craziness of each story. Shake your head a lot. Say, "Wow, that's crazy." A lot. Say, "Unbelievable" a lot too.
-Play games like, "Find You Way Around the Closed Roads." And, "Don't Get Stuck in the Flood Waters!" And, "Hey, Dodge that Falling and/or Flying Branch!"
Ok. I really missed the Internet so much, guys. Two and a half days without it...two days with no access to my blog. I'm not gonna lie...it was rough.
I mostly missed the Internet for crap like this:
I'm so glad you're back Internet. So glad. It's been too long icanhascheezburger.com too long.
Hahaha...I think this picture accurately depicts how I felt when I was younger and was made to wear dresses too. I feel your pain little kitty. I feel your pain.
And God (Well, ComEd) Said..Let there be POWER!
I got power back!! YAY! Around 4 am this morning the electricity came back to life. And when I woke up this morning beautiful, beautiful, Internet was up and running.
About time too...being a Puritan was getting really old.
On the positive side...I did manage to quilt my own toilet paper (it's always been my secret desire to be a Quilted Northern Quilter). The power outage gave me the perfect opportunity to hone my skills so I will be all set for my interview and toilet-paper-quilting-test-of-skill.
About time too...being a Puritan was getting really old.
On the positive side...I did manage to quilt my own toilet paper (it's always been my secret desire to be a Quilted Northern Quilter). The power outage gave me the perfect opportunity to hone my skills so I will be all set for my interview and toilet-paper-quilting-test-of-skill.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Cats and Dogs and Everything In Between
Wow. So these storms that passed through the Midwest recently pounded the SNOT out of my town. I haven't had power since 3:30 on Thursday. I'm now at work and reveling at the marvels of modern electricity.
"Oh My God! LIGHT!"
"Music!!"
So, these storms were pretty bad. Apparently, our Mayor has declared us a disaster zone or something. And yeah, it's kinda bad. But...it could be worse. At least not in my town...it's not as bad as it could be. We're not waist deep in flood water, our homes are still standing, and not too many people were seriously injured.
However, having said that...
I've never seen anything like this before in my life. And I used to live in a far-west suburb or Chicago, and when I lived there it was all farmland. So out there, pretty much every time it stormed the sky turned green and we would have to go to the basement.
Let me break down what happened...
3:15-ish: Amy is "cleaning her room" this is code for playing her music loudly and singing in front of the mirror.
3:20-ish: Amy does a stirring rendition of "I'll Cover You (Reprise)" from RENT
3:23-ish it starts to rumble a little bit, the lights flicker. Amy looks for another song from RENT to sing.
3:24-ish: Lights flicker some more, Amy starts to sing "Without You"
3:25-ish: Power goes out (Cosmic commentary on Amy's singing?...maybe so.)
3:25 and a-half-ish: Huge crack of thunder and lightening, starts to pour, Jimmy (Amy's brother) runs outside to roll up his car windows.
3:26-ish: Jimmy makes it back inside, wind starts to blow really hard, Jimmy notices the umbrella over the table on the porch is open and blowing madly in the wind and thinks he should go close it.
3:26 and a-half-ish: Amy begs Jimmy not to close the umbrella because its lightening outside.
3:27-ish: Jimmy tells Amy she's a coward and goes to close the umbrella.
3:28-ish: Jimmy is back inside. Jimmy and Amy watch the storm for the back window for a while. We say, "Whoa!" and "Holy crap!" a lot.
3:30-ish: Jimmy says, "Let's go watch from the front window!" He goes and suddenly says, "Oh my God!" Amy runs to the window...sees the tree in her front yard has lost a major branch. The branch is lying across the road, blocking the entire thing.
Some Time passes. Amy and Jimmy watch the storm from the front window. Amy says several times, "Maybe we shouldn't be the window." Jimmy tells her several times to "Chill Out." Molly, the toy poodle is freaking out.
4:00-ish: One of the neighbors from down the block comes running to the downed tree in our front yard. She sees us in the window and gives us a look like, "What the crap is your tree doing the middle of the road." We give her a look like, "The storm. You're crazy." She moves to the tree like she is going to yank it out of the road. It is still raining and lightening. Not as bad as it was. But still. Storming none the less. So my brother and I aren't going to let this lady pull the tree off the street herself, so we go help her. Another neighbor from across the street comes to help and it literally takes all four of us to get this thing out of the way. Apparently, this lady was worried that the bus that dropped her kids off wouldn't be able to make it through. I was like, the bus driver will figure it out, we shouldn't be out here right now, crazy. The bus driver, will, god forbid, go around the block if he needs to. We go back inside.
4:15-ish: We see an old man go by in his rascal (which if you don't know is like a ride-on, electric wheel-chair). He goes up and down the street several times, surveying the damage. I am not joking. It is still raining. He is old. He is on a rascal, bumping over fallen branches and twigs.
4:20-ish: Mr. Dooley (our retired public works officer and man with way too much time on his hands also, his dog is a fat sausage) comes out to assess the situation.
4:21-ish: I call my Dad and tell him he doesn't need to worry because Mr. Dooley is assessing the situation. He laughs.
4:22-ish: People are starting to come outside, we go out too and speak with people briefly. We find out the storm has uprooted a large stoplight straight out of the ground a block away from our house. It starts to rain hard again, we go inside.
4:25-ish: Jimmy and I see the old man go by on the rascal again, this time he has thought to outfit himself in a yellow rain slicker and has placed a plastic blanket over his lap. He goes up and down the street 2-3 more times.
OK, so some more time goes by, my Dad comes home...it's raining lightly. I decided I think I'm going to go out and get us food.
6:30-ish: I decide to go get food. I go out and instantly realize my mistake. I only went probably a mile away from my house but it took me until 8:00 to get back home. I didn't get any food. NOBODY had power. Every stoplight was out, I drove through 2 feet of water at one point, and watched lightening reach and crack across the entire sky. It was DARK no street lights were up every store was dark...so eerie. So I make it home, thank God.
8:30-ish: My Dad finds a place that's actually open, we order food from there.
9:00-ish: We eat.
9:30-ish: We go to bed. 'Cause what else is there to do with no power?
Wake up the next morning. Still no power. Have to go into the city. Get in my car to go get gas because I need it to get to the city. Nobody has gas. Go back home, because I'm so low on gas, I'm going to run out of gas looking for gas. Plus, getting around is too hard, between the downed trees, and broken stoplights...it's damn near impossible.
So I go home and decide I have to take the train into the city. I take the train into the city, do what I need to do.
4:30-ish: I get home from the city. Still no power.
5:00-ish: Go to a coffee shop to check my email.
6:00-ish: Go to my aunts and eat dinner. She has power. Play with my good pal Owen for a while.
8:30-ish: Get home. Take out my clothes from the laundry that were half-done when the power went out. Hang them in my closet to drip dry. Take out my sheets from the dryer that were halfway done when the power went out. Stretch them over chairs to air dry.
9:00-ish: Leave to go see a movie, Superbad, with my brother. The first place we were going to go to has no power. We go somewhere else. They have power.
9:45-ish: Get to the theatre, sit down and have a 17 year old girl in the movie theatre who is going to see the movie, ask me if I'm actually 17. She tells me a long winded story about how she's 17 (going to be 18 in 40 days) and they wouldn't let her in because she didn't have an ID. I told her I did have an ID and yes, the checked it, and yes, I'm not only 17, I'm 21. She walks away and goes back with her friends, the laugh about something. Jimmy gets upset because he thinks they were making fun of me. I told him to not to get upset.
10:00-ish: The movie starts
11:45-ish: The movie is over. Realize you can't really expect much from a movie with a title like Superbad. Leave the theatre tired and disappointed. Realize it would have been a better evening reading by candle-light.
12:00-ish: Get home. Get into bed. Realize a neighbor has gotten a generator that sounds like 3-sooped up lawn-mowers. Curse them as I try to fall asleep.
All night-ish: Wake up constantly, curse then generator about 10 times, at some point have to close my windows because it's raining...AGAIN.
Wake up the this morning-still no power.
Go to work. Crazy day. Find a way to get my drip drying laundry properly cleaned (thanks to Mrs. Y letting me commandeer her washer/dryer for a while).
Go to other work where I sit right now wondering from whence I will be delivered from no power. It's weird to have power now-to sit in artificial light. To have a computer screen and Internet. I will say it has been difficult for me without the Internet. I can live without TV. But I am anal about checking my emails.
No time for a quote of the day or a word of the day. Will update again soon...I hope. Until then...living it up Puritan style.
"Oh My God! LIGHT!"
"Music!!"
So, these storms were pretty bad. Apparently, our Mayor has declared us a disaster zone or something. And yeah, it's kinda bad. But...it could be worse. At least not in my town...it's not as bad as it could be. We're not waist deep in flood water, our homes are still standing, and not too many people were seriously injured.
However, having said that...
I've never seen anything like this before in my life. And I used to live in a far-west suburb or Chicago, and when I lived there it was all farmland. So out there, pretty much every time it stormed the sky turned green and we would have to go to the basement.
Let me break down what happened...
3:15-ish: Amy is "cleaning her room" this is code for playing her music loudly and singing in front of the mirror.
3:20-ish: Amy does a stirring rendition of "I'll Cover You (Reprise)" from RENT
3:23-ish it starts to rumble a little bit, the lights flicker. Amy looks for another song from RENT to sing.
3:24-ish: Lights flicker some more, Amy starts to sing "Without You"
3:25-ish: Power goes out (Cosmic commentary on Amy's singing?...maybe so.)
3:25 and a-half-ish: Huge crack of thunder and lightening, starts to pour, Jimmy (Amy's brother) runs outside to roll up his car windows.
3:26-ish: Jimmy makes it back inside, wind starts to blow really hard, Jimmy notices the umbrella over the table on the porch is open and blowing madly in the wind and thinks he should go close it.
3:26 and a-half-ish: Amy begs Jimmy not to close the umbrella because its lightening outside.
3:27-ish: Jimmy tells Amy she's a coward and goes to close the umbrella.
3:28-ish: Jimmy is back inside. Jimmy and Amy watch the storm for the back window for a while. We say, "Whoa!" and "Holy crap!" a lot.
3:30-ish: Jimmy says, "Let's go watch from the front window!" He goes and suddenly says, "Oh my God!" Amy runs to the window...sees the tree in her front yard has lost a major branch. The branch is lying across the road, blocking the entire thing.
Some Time passes. Amy and Jimmy watch the storm from the front window. Amy says several times, "Maybe we shouldn't be the window." Jimmy tells her several times to "Chill Out." Molly, the toy poodle is freaking out.
4:00-ish: One of the neighbors from down the block comes running to the downed tree in our front yard. She sees us in the window and gives us a look like, "What the crap is your tree doing the middle of the road." We give her a look like, "The storm. You're crazy." She moves to the tree like she is going to yank it out of the road. It is still raining and lightening. Not as bad as it was. But still. Storming none the less. So my brother and I aren't going to let this lady pull the tree off the street herself, so we go help her. Another neighbor from across the street comes to help and it literally takes all four of us to get this thing out of the way. Apparently, this lady was worried that the bus that dropped her kids off wouldn't be able to make it through. I was like, the bus driver will figure it out, we shouldn't be out here right now, crazy. The bus driver, will, god forbid, go around the block if he needs to. We go back inside.
4:15-ish: We see an old man go by in his rascal (which if you don't know is like a ride-on, electric wheel-chair). He goes up and down the street several times, surveying the damage. I am not joking. It is still raining. He is old. He is on a rascal, bumping over fallen branches and twigs.
4:20-ish: Mr. Dooley (our retired public works officer and man with way too much time on his hands also, his dog is a fat sausage) comes out to assess the situation.
4:21-ish: I call my Dad and tell him he doesn't need to worry because Mr. Dooley is assessing the situation. He laughs.
4:22-ish: People are starting to come outside, we go out too and speak with people briefly. We find out the storm has uprooted a large stoplight straight out of the ground a block away from our house. It starts to rain hard again, we go inside.
4:25-ish: Jimmy and I see the old man go by on the rascal again, this time he has thought to outfit himself in a yellow rain slicker and has placed a plastic blanket over his lap. He goes up and down the street 2-3 more times.
OK, so some more time goes by, my Dad comes home...it's raining lightly. I decided I think I'm going to go out and get us food.
6:30-ish: I decide to go get food. I go out and instantly realize my mistake. I only went probably a mile away from my house but it took me until 8:00 to get back home. I didn't get any food. NOBODY had power. Every stoplight was out, I drove through 2 feet of water at one point, and watched lightening reach and crack across the entire sky. It was DARK no street lights were up every store was dark...so eerie. So I make it home, thank God.
8:30-ish: My Dad finds a place that's actually open, we order food from there.
9:00-ish: We eat.
9:30-ish: We go to bed. 'Cause what else is there to do with no power?
Wake up the next morning. Still no power. Have to go into the city. Get in my car to go get gas because I need it to get to the city. Nobody has gas. Go back home, because I'm so low on gas, I'm going to run out of gas looking for gas. Plus, getting around is too hard, between the downed trees, and broken stoplights...it's damn near impossible.
So I go home and decide I have to take the train into the city. I take the train into the city, do what I need to do.
4:30-ish: I get home from the city. Still no power.
5:00-ish: Go to a coffee shop to check my email.
6:00-ish: Go to my aunts and eat dinner. She has power. Play with my good pal Owen for a while.
8:30-ish: Get home. Take out my clothes from the laundry that were half-done when the power went out. Hang them in my closet to drip dry. Take out my sheets from the dryer that were halfway done when the power went out. Stretch them over chairs to air dry.
9:00-ish: Leave to go see a movie, Superbad, with my brother. The first place we were going to go to has no power. We go somewhere else. They have power.
9:45-ish: Get to the theatre, sit down and have a 17 year old girl in the movie theatre who is going to see the movie, ask me if I'm actually 17. She tells me a long winded story about how she's 17 (going to be 18 in 40 days) and they wouldn't let her in because she didn't have an ID. I told her I did have an ID and yes, the checked it, and yes, I'm not only 17, I'm 21. She walks away and goes back with her friends, the laugh about something. Jimmy gets upset because he thinks they were making fun of me. I told him to not to get upset.
10:00-ish: The movie starts
11:45-ish: The movie is over. Realize you can't really expect much from a movie with a title like Superbad. Leave the theatre tired and disappointed. Realize it would have been a better evening reading by candle-light.
12:00-ish: Get home. Get into bed. Realize a neighbor has gotten a generator that sounds like 3-sooped up lawn-mowers. Curse them as I try to fall asleep.
All night-ish: Wake up constantly, curse then generator about 10 times, at some point have to close my windows because it's raining...AGAIN.
Wake up the this morning-still no power.
Go to work. Crazy day. Find a way to get my drip drying laundry properly cleaned (thanks to Mrs. Y letting me commandeer her washer/dryer for a while).
Go to other work where I sit right now wondering from whence I will be delivered from no power. It's weird to have power now-to sit in artificial light. To have a computer screen and Internet. I will say it has been difficult for me without the Internet. I can live without TV. But I am anal about checking my emails.
No time for a quote of the day or a word of the day. Will update again soon...I hope. Until then...living it up Puritan style.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
I Am Stark Raving New Puppy Mad!!
There was this one time that I believed caffeine did not effect me. In that, if I were to drink some an hour or two before going to bed I would be able to sleep fine.
I was wrong.
Damn you Diet Coke. Damn You.
It's 12:30 and I have to work tomorrrow and all I want is to sleep but my body feels like dancing the macarena.
Watch out for this guy. Don't let him fool you with his good looks and no-calorie promises.
He is TRouble. With a capital TR. (He's really not all that bad, which is why I didn't captialize the ouble.)
Don't worry Diet Coke, I still love you. Right now I'm just a little mad at you. But I can't stay mad at you forever because I just love you too darn much. Kinda like when you have to be mad at your new puppy if he just tore up your couch. You have to be mad at the new puppy because he did something wrong, but dangnamitt he's just so cute! And he looked so happy destroying your couch that-aw, aw, you just can't stay mad at the little guy. Aw, new puppy. I love you. But you really shouldn't have torn up the couch. It was Armani.
Diet Coke, I am new puppy mad at you!!!
(But let's get together in the morning when I need my caffeine fix to start my day.)
I was wrong.
Damn you Diet Coke. Damn You.
It's 12:30 and I have to work tomorrrow and all I want is to sleep but my body feels like dancing the macarena.
Watch out for this guy. Don't let him fool you with his good looks and no-calorie promises.
He is TRouble. With a capital TR. (He's really not all that bad, which is why I didn't captialize the ouble.)
Don't worry Diet Coke, I still love you. Right now I'm just a little mad at you. But I can't stay mad at you forever because I just love you too darn much. Kinda like when you have to be mad at your new puppy if he just tore up your couch. You have to be mad at the new puppy because he did something wrong, but dangnamitt he's just so cute! And he looked so happy destroying your couch that-aw, aw, you just can't stay mad at the little guy. Aw, new puppy. I love you. But you really shouldn't have torn up the couch. It was Armani.
Diet Coke, I am new puppy mad at you!!!
(But let's get together in the morning when I need my caffeine fix to start my day.)
Monday, August 20, 2007
Hey Guys. Good News...I Found a Girlfriend! Bad News...She's Natalie Portman.
Hey guys. Good news...I found a girlfriend. It's Natalie Portman.
She has everything I look for in a woman:
a) Intelligence (She went to Harvard AND speaks Hebrew (speaking another language=hot))
b) A beautiful smile/fabulous laugh
c) A sense of humor
d) And I guess it doesn't hurt that she's drop dead gorgeous.
So I'm thinking here's what will happen:
Let me set the scene:
I'll already be famous somehow. Either I have just published my first book to critical and public acclaim or have just written/directed/starred in a movie or a play making a splash as an important artistic piece for our time. My normally awkward disposition has been replaced by a cool, calm, and dare I say…sexy, demeanor. Ok. So I’m at some sort of swank party for something (really, secretly I hate swank parties but I have to go to make an appearance). Natalie is there too. I am at the bar, sipping a drink, wishing I were home working on my next piece or watching The Travel Channel. Natalie ponies up to the bar to order a drink. We catch each other’s eye. I smile. She smiles. I nod a “hello” to her, figuring she doesn’t want to be bothered, because she’s probably bothered all the time. She nods a “hello” back, gets her drink and starts to walk away from the bar, but comes back…OK! And since I just saw Pride and Prejudice and have been thinking in a 19th century frame of mind ever since, the following will be written a la Jane Austen/Pride and Prejudice.
NATALIE: Pardon me for asking, but are you Amy Cornelius? Author of [insert title of my critically and publicly acclaimed book and/or play here]?
ME: I am indeed.
NATALIE: I saw your saw or play last night and/or read your book in one sitting. Your work is absolutely marvelous.
ME: (Smiling shyly) Thank you. Truly you do me too much honor.
(Pause)
ME: And pardon me for asking, but are you Miss. Natalie Portman, star of…Mars Attacks?
NATALIE: Dear God, you saw that movie?
ME: I’m a most enthusiastic fan of all Tim Burton’s moving pictures.
NATALIE: Even Mars Attacks?
ME: Even Mars Attacks. Well of course it helped that your luminous countenance was on the screen. I’m a big fan of your work as well. I simply loved V for Vendetta. The political implications of the film were both timely and alarming.
NATALIE: Thank you.
(Pause)
(Pause)
(We both look at each and laugh)
ME: Well. We’ve both complimented each other on each other’s respective work. I trust that we’ve fulfilled the standards of conversation for events such as these. Now I should shake your hand, tell you what a pleasure it was to meet you and wish you all the best of luck on all your future endeavors.
NATALIE: Yes that does seem to be the sort of caliber of conversation at events like this. And indeed I think we have more than fulfilled the standards of conversation. What do you say we exceed the standards and shake things up a bit, eh?
ME: Sounds perfectly delightful to me. Just what I need as well as I have been terribly bored since I arrived.
NATALIE: Well I have been flirting with boredom all night myself, so shaking things up will be a most welcome change for the both of us then.
ME: Indeed.
NATALIE: And so, instead of now asking you what your next project might be. I will ask you what your worst habit is. So, Miss. Cornelius, what is your most despicable habit?
ME: You waste no time do you? I must first make sure you have no intention of selling my deep secrets to any trashy tabloids.
NATALIE: I wouldn’t dream of it.
ME: All right then. I am obliged to tell you my deep secrets then. And to answer your question, what is my most despicable habit…I am indeed very despised to say that I am drawn to gnaw at my nails constantly.
NATALIE: That is rather despicable. (Pause) I pick my nose.
ME: Do you really?
NATALIE: Indeed. I find Kleenex quite inconvenient when I have my index finger…at hand.
ME: I don’t know what to be more disgusted by, the fact that you pick your nose or that you’ve just made a horrible pun.
NATALIE: Well I guess you may add my penchant for horrible puns to the list of my despicable characteristics.
ME: Oh, on the contrary I find it quite charming. As long as you do not make such puns in earnest. There is nothing quite as deplorable as one who thinks herself a wit and is really no more than a fool.
NATALIE: Well, happily, I do claim to be neither wit nor fool.
ME: What might you claim to be then, if I may be so bold as to inquire?
NATALIE: I am but a humble artist.
ME: A girl after mine own heart.
NATALIE: Pardon, but were you under the assumption I was after your heart?
ME: My, my, the cat has claws. Perhaps I should say no more lest my ego be further bruised.
NATALIE: Is your ego so fragile that it is easily hurt?
ME: My ego can withstand the volley of a thousand spiteful critics. But being slighted by a beautiful woman…well that, my poor ego can not withstand.
NATALIE: Well now you’ve made me feel guilty. I do not wish to be responsible for a bruised ego that I had no intention of bruising.
ME: Well, then clearly Miss. Portman there is only on sure way to right this wrong you have done to my ego.
NATALIE: And what, pray tell, is that?
ME: Well, you must do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner.
NATALIE: Is that all?
ME: Indeed.
NATALIE: Well I do believe that might be manageable.
ME: Manageable? Well. Excellent. I would not wish to intrude upon of the goings-on of your social life, but if it will be…"manageable" as you say. Must I go through your agent to make the arrangements?
NATALIE: All right, I suppose it will be more than manageable.
ME: More than manageable?? Truly, you do me too much honor. How much more than manageable will it be?
NATALIE: I suppose I could be delighted to accompany you to dinner.
ME: And I would be delighted if you could be delighted to accompany me to dinner.
NATALIE: And no need to go through my agent to make the arrangements. I make my own. Does this coming Friday at 8:00 suit you well?
ME: Indeed it does as I have no prior engagements.
Then…cut to…us getting married.
Which brings me to the words of the day.
WORD(S) OF THE DAY
1) Inconceivable: impossible to comprehend
And now. In a sentence:
As Jane Austen once said, "The mere idea that Miss. Natalie Portman could ever be attracted to Miss. Amy Cornelius is grossly and utterly inconceivable."
2) Cornball: an unsophisticated person. Also, something corny.
And now. In a sentence:
Miss. Amy Cornelius is nothing more than a cornball.
She has everything I look for in a woman:
a) Intelligence (She went to Harvard AND speaks Hebrew (speaking another language=hot))
b) A beautiful smile/fabulous laugh
c) A sense of humor
d) And I guess it doesn't hurt that she's drop dead gorgeous.
So I'm thinking here's what will happen:
Let me set the scene:
I'll already be famous somehow. Either I have just published my first book to critical and public acclaim or have just written/directed/starred in a movie or a play making a splash as an important artistic piece for our time. My normally awkward disposition has been replaced by a cool, calm, and dare I say…sexy, demeanor. Ok. So I’m at some sort of swank party for something (really, secretly I hate swank parties but I have to go to make an appearance). Natalie is there too. I am at the bar, sipping a drink, wishing I were home working on my next piece or watching The Travel Channel. Natalie ponies up to the bar to order a drink. We catch each other’s eye. I smile. She smiles. I nod a “hello” to her, figuring she doesn’t want to be bothered, because she’s probably bothered all the time. She nods a “hello” back, gets her drink and starts to walk away from the bar, but comes back…OK! And since I just saw Pride and Prejudice and have been thinking in a 19th century frame of mind ever since, the following will be written a la Jane Austen/Pride and Prejudice.
NATALIE: Pardon me for asking, but are you Amy Cornelius? Author of [insert title of my critically and publicly acclaimed book and/or play here]?
ME: I am indeed.
NATALIE: I saw your saw or play last night and/or read your book in one sitting. Your work is absolutely marvelous.
ME: (Smiling shyly) Thank you. Truly you do me too much honor.
(Pause)
ME: And pardon me for asking, but are you Miss. Natalie Portman, star of…Mars Attacks?
NATALIE: Dear God, you saw that movie?
ME: I’m a most enthusiastic fan of all Tim Burton’s moving pictures.
NATALIE: Even Mars Attacks?
ME: Even Mars Attacks. Well of course it helped that your luminous countenance was on the screen. I’m a big fan of your work as well. I simply loved V for Vendetta. The political implications of the film were both timely and alarming.
NATALIE: Thank you.
(Pause)
(Pause)
(We both look at each and laugh)
ME: Well. We’ve both complimented each other on each other’s respective work. I trust that we’ve fulfilled the standards of conversation for events such as these. Now I should shake your hand, tell you what a pleasure it was to meet you and wish you all the best of luck on all your future endeavors.
NATALIE: Yes that does seem to be the sort of caliber of conversation at events like this. And indeed I think we have more than fulfilled the standards of conversation. What do you say we exceed the standards and shake things up a bit, eh?
ME: Sounds perfectly delightful to me. Just what I need as well as I have been terribly bored since I arrived.
NATALIE: Well I have been flirting with boredom all night myself, so shaking things up will be a most welcome change for the both of us then.
ME: Indeed.
NATALIE: And so, instead of now asking you what your next project might be. I will ask you what your worst habit is. So, Miss. Cornelius, what is your most despicable habit?
ME: You waste no time do you? I must first make sure you have no intention of selling my deep secrets to any trashy tabloids.
NATALIE: I wouldn’t dream of it.
ME: All right then. I am obliged to tell you my deep secrets then. And to answer your question, what is my most despicable habit…I am indeed very despised to say that I am drawn to gnaw at my nails constantly.
NATALIE: That is rather despicable. (Pause) I pick my nose.
ME: Do you really?
NATALIE: Indeed. I find Kleenex quite inconvenient when I have my index finger…at hand.
ME: I don’t know what to be more disgusted by, the fact that you pick your nose or that you’ve just made a horrible pun.
NATALIE: Well I guess you may add my penchant for horrible puns to the list of my despicable characteristics.
ME: Oh, on the contrary I find it quite charming. As long as you do not make such puns in earnest. There is nothing quite as deplorable as one who thinks herself a wit and is really no more than a fool.
NATALIE: Well, happily, I do claim to be neither wit nor fool.
ME: What might you claim to be then, if I may be so bold as to inquire?
NATALIE: I am but a humble artist.
ME: A girl after mine own heart.
NATALIE: Pardon, but were you under the assumption I was after your heart?
ME: My, my, the cat has claws. Perhaps I should say no more lest my ego be further bruised.
NATALIE: Is your ego so fragile that it is easily hurt?
ME: My ego can withstand the volley of a thousand spiteful critics. But being slighted by a beautiful woman…well that, my poor ego can not withstand.
NATALIE: Well now you’ve made me feel guilty. I do not wish to be responsible for a bruised ego that I had no intention of bruising.
ME: Well, then clearly Miss. Portman there is only on sure way to right this wrong you have done to my ego.
NATALIE: And what, pray tell, is that?
ME: Well, you must do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner.
NATALIE: Is that all?
ME: Indeed.
NATALIE: Well I do believe that might be manageable.
ME: Manageable? Well. Excellent. I would not wish to intrude upon of the goings-on of your social life, but if it will be…"manageable" as you say. Must I go through your agent to make the arrangements?
NATALIE: All right, I suppose it will be more than manageable.
ME: More than manageable?? Truly, you do me too much honor. How much more than manageable will it be?
NATALIE: I suppose I could be delighted to accompany you to dinner.
ME: And I would be delighted if you could be delighted to accompany me to dinner.
NATALIE: And no need to go through my agent to make the arrangements. I make my own. Does this coming Friday at 8:00 suit you well?
ME: Indeed it does as I have no prior engagements.
Then…cut to…us getting married.
Which brings me to the words of the day.
WORD(S) OF THE DAY
1) Inconceivable: impossible to comprehend
And now. In a sentence:
As Jane Austen once said, "The mere idea that Miss. Natalie Portman could ever be attracted to Miss. Amy Cornelius is grossly and utterly inconceivable."
2) Cornball: an unsophisticated person. Also, something corny.
And now. In a sentence:
Miss. Amy Cornelius is nothing more than a cornball.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Sometimes, Life is Awesome
So, sometimes life is awesome.
Sometimes there are these little ity bity moments that I think to myself, "Man, getting up this morning was really worth it. I'm so glad I did."
Like today.
I saw a dog wearing a raincoat.
I guess a yellow rain slicker would more accurately describe what this dog was wearing. It was completed with a yellow rain-slicker hat. The dog could have been in the canine version of "Singing in the Rain." And seeing this dog in a raincoat did not make me split a gut laughing. I just smiled, shook my head, and said to myself, "Sometimes life is so awesome. Today could be the best day ever because I got to see a dog wearing a yellow rain slicker."
Sometimes there are these little ity bity moments that I think to myself, "Man, getting up this morning was really worth it. I'm so glad I did."
Like today.
I saw a dog wearing a raincoat.
I guess a yellow rain slicker would more accurately describe what this dog was wearing. It was completed with a yellow rain-slicker hat. The dog could have been in the canine version of "Singing in the Rain." And seeing this dog in a raincoat did not make me split a gut laughing. I just smiled, shook my head, and said to myself, "Sometimes life is so awesome. Today could be the best day ever because I got to see a dog wearing a yellow rain slicker."
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Saturday, August 11, 2007
If This is Me in 20 Years...Someone Please Shoot Me
Easily one of the craziest things I've ever seen. Easily. And I have seen some crazy crap.
Quentin Tarantino Saves Judaism
Ok, look.
I have the weirdest dreams. Ever. Don't believe me?
Ok.
The other night I had a dream that I had to save Judaism. And the dream was in the style of Quentin Tarantino.
Um. Yeah. I don't get it either.
Basically, I somehow had to save Judaism. I'm not sure exactly how but it had something to do with the script to Reindeer Games. Yes. Reindeer Games. Yes. Reindeer Games the crappy action movie with Ben Affleck and Gary Sinese. I've never even SEEN Reindeer Games. I haven't even HEARD the title Reindeer Games probably since it came out it 2000.
Um. Yeah. I still don't get it either.
Ok. So I had to take the script of Reindeer games from this old sage (I'm not sure if she was Jewish or not, I would assume so, since...after all...I am trying to save Judaism) to this other place...and then for whatever reason BACK to the old sage for safe-keeping, so she could destroy it or something to protect/save Judaism.
And the bad guys? The bad guys were the Palestinians. Duh.
So I get the script from the sage, to the other place (I don't remember where but getting there involved luging (yes, luging the WINTER Olympic sport) down a gravel driveway. And back to the stage, all the while with the Palestinians on my tail.
Um. Yeah. I still don't get it either.
So, I get the script back to the sage and she takes it to destroy and right then the Palestinians bust through the door. They look like they're walked right out of Pulp Fiction or Reservoir Dogs, except they're buffer, Palestinian, and have kind of a biker-look going. No joke.
Could I make this crap up?
So they walk through the door, and the old sage had been cooking dinner or maybe potions or something and I take note of all the boiling crap on the stove. I look at it, and think, "Man, I hope those boiling liquids aren't going to be used in this fight that's about to happen. What am I thinking? This is Quentin Tarantino OF COURSE they're going to be used. This is probably going to be really painful."
So then what starts is a hardcore ass-kicking. Mostly, me getting the snot beat out of me, pot of boiling liquid flying, classic Tarantino chains whipping at me. Nuts. I think somehow, the sage got away.
But the next thing that happened in the dream was me, coming out of the hospital room. For whatever reason, when I saw this I wasn't the person I was throughout the whole dream, and I saw this part as if I was watching a movie.
When I walked out of the room...I was Seann William Scott.
Yeah. I know. I...I...still...don't...get...it.
Um. That's where it pretty much ended. Not sure if I saved Judaism or not. I would assume I did since I wasn't dead. The sage musta kicked some Palestinians butt after I got knocked out.
I am sometimes scared of the things that happen in my brain. This is only one of many, many, many strange dreams. I dream about odd things, I dream on multiple levels, from multiple points of view. My dreams are always very sensational (ie: luging down a gravel driveway...I remember seeing things go by quickly, I remember it being bumpy. ie: getting the crap kicked out of me. I wasn't in the amount of pain I would have been if I actually had been beat up, but I do remember feeling discomfort)
It freaks me out.
I think I'm going to call up Quentin Taratino and tell him I got a great idea for a new movie: Seann William Scott Saves Judaism.
WORD OF THE DAY
LUGE: a one- or two-person sled for coasting or racing down a chute, used esp. in Europe.
And now. In a sentence:
It is probably a bad idea to luge down a gravel driveway. Just a thought.
QUOTE OF THE DAY
So the Breast Cancer 3-Day came through Mt. Prospect today. I work at a building right off the route. A woman came in to use our bathroom. As she's leaving...
ME: Good luck with the rest of the walk. I really appreciate what you guys are doing.
LADY: I appreciate your bathroom.
Aw. Can you feel the love?
I have the weirdest dreams. Ever. Don't believe me?
Ok.
The other night I had a dream that I had to save Judaism. And the dream was in the style of Quentin Tarantino.
Um. Yeah. I don't get it either.
Basically, I somehow had to save Judaism. I'm not sure exactly how but it had something to do with the script to Reindeer Games. Yes. Reindeer Games. Yes. Reindeer Games the crappy action movie with Ben Affleck and Gary Sinese. I've never even SEEN Reindeer Games. I haven't even HEARD the title Reindeer Games probably since it came out it 2000.
Um. Yeah. I still don't get it either.
Ok. So I had to take the script of Reindeer games from this old sage (I'm not sure if she was Jewish or not, I would assume so, since...after all...I am trying to save Judaism) to this other place...and then for whatever reason BACK to the old sage for safe-keeping, so she could destroy it or something to protect/save Judaism.
And the bad guys? The bad guys were the Palestinians. Duh.
So I get the script from the sage, to the other place (I don't remember where but getting there involved luging (yes, luging the WINTER Olympic sport) down a gravel driveway. And back to the stage, all the while with the Palestinians on my tail.
Um. Yeah. I still don't get it either.
So, I get the script back to the sage and she takes it to destroy and right then the Palestinians bust through the door. They look like they're walked right out of Pulp Fiction or Reservoir Dogs, except they're buffer, Palestinian, and have kind of a biker-look going. No joke.
Could I make this crap up?
So they walk through the door, and the old sage had been cooking dinner or maybe potions or something and I take note of all the boiling crap on the stove. I look at it, and think, "Man, I hope those boiling liquids aren't going to be used in this fight that's about to happen. What am I thinking? This is Quentin Tarantino OF COURSE they're going to be used. This is probably going to be really painful."
So then what starts is a hardcore ass-kicking. Mostly, me getting the snot beat out of me, pot of boiling liquid flying, classic Tarantino chains whipping at me. Nuts. I think somehow, the sage got away.
But the next thing that happened in the dream was me, coming out of the hospital room. For whatever reason, when I saw this I wasn't the person I was throughout the whole dream, and I saw this part as if I was watching a movie.
When I walked out of the room...I was Seann William Scott.
Yeah. I know. I...I...still...don't...get...it.
Um. That's where it pretty much ended. Not sure if I saved Judaism or not. I would assume I did since I wasn't dead. The sage musta kicked some Palestinians butt after I got knocked out.
I am sometimes scared of the things that happen in my brain. This is only one of many, many, many strange dreams. I dream about odd things, I dream on multiple levels, from multiple points of view. My dreams are always very sensational (ie: luging down a gravel driveway...I remember seeing things go by quickly, I remember it being bumpy. ie: getting the crap kicked out of me. I wasn't in the amount of pain I would have been if I actually had been beat up, but I do remember feeling discomfort)
It freaks me out.
I think I'm going to call up Quentin Taratino and tell him I got a great idea for a new movie: Seann William Scott Saves Judaism.
WORD OF THE DAY
LUGE: a one- or two-person sled for coasting or racing down a chute, used esp. in Europe.
And now. In a sentence:
It is probably a bad idea to luge down a gravel driveway. Just a thought.
QUOTE OF THE DAY
So the Breast Cancer 3-Day came through Mt. Prospect today. I work at a building right off the route. A woman came in to use our bathroom. As she's leaving...
ME: Good luck with the rest of the walk. I really appreciate what you guys are doing.
LADY: I appreciate your bathroom.
Aw. Can you feel the love?
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Hey, I Like Fashion (Well, My Version of Fashion)
Um. Ok. So by this point you've all probably figured out that I'm a lesbian.
I know.
Shocking.
Here's something that might surprise you: I kinda like fashion. And by fashion I of course mean my version of fashion. you're probably wondering what my version of fashion is. I will tell you in two words:
Jeans. Sneakers.
Yes, yes, I know that makes me horribly lesbian. But I can't help it.
I love shoes (sneakers).
And I love jeans.
I bring it up because I went jean shopping today. I take pride in my jeans. I love my jeans. AND I know what you're going to ask and the answer is: yes. Yes. Just because I am a lesbian does not mean I am not a woman, thus I ALWAYS check how the jeans make my ass look. Always. In fact, that's what I spend most of the time looking at when I buy jeans, straining over my shoulder-looking at my ass-in-jeans.
It's important that I have jeans that are comfortable and classy and for me-that means buying out of the little boy's section in Kohls. I have never ever been comfortable wearing jeans I've bought out of the girls section. Here is my rant about girl jeans:
a) They get all up in my business.
b) If they fit over my hips they're too long in the leg.
c) If they fit in the leg I can't give them over my hips.
d) If I bend down my butt gets chilly.
Um. No Thanks.
Thus, for their comfort and style I like I get boy jeans.
Yes.
I know that makes me horribly gay, but whatever. I probably own one pair of jeans that are actually "girl's jeans."
Now I will talk about sneakers. I have a few pairs of sneakers for all occasions:
Sneakers for going out.
Sneakers for walking outside.
Sneakers for doing stuff where I'm going to get messy.
Sneakers for sneaking.
It is important to have sneakers for all occasions. I don't think I've worn heals since prom. Seriously. You can find a pair of sneakers for any and ever occasion. Seriously.
Ok, with all this talk about jeans and sneakers, you're probably thinking, "Amy, are you a semi-nudist? Don't you wear anything on top?"
No.
I'm not a semi-nudist.
My favorite shirts are my tight fitting black t-shirts that make me look a little like Danny Zuko (maybe just out of the corner of your eye for a split second enough to think "Did Danny Zuko lose 80 pounds and shrink?) and of course...my button-downs.
I know. So gay.
This is just a lesson in lesbian fashion 101.
Um and this post about fashion this is a perfectly segue into my word of the day..
WORD OF THE DAY
Couture: the business of designing fashionable custom-made women's clothing.
And now. In a sentence:
Up until about yesterday, Amy thought that Couture was a designer's name, like Dior or Armani. However, it is not. It simply means what the definition states: fashionable custom-made women's clothing.
And yes. That sentence is true. I did actually think "couture" was a name.
It's not.
QUOTE OF THE DAY
MOM FROM THE STUDIO: You wouldn't send the children out to play in that field next to your building in the rain during a tornado warning, would you?
Yes mam. Yes. We would. We also covered their heads in tin foil and made-up a game called, "who can ground lightening the fastest?"
I know.
Shocking.
Here's something that might surprise you: I kinda like fashion. And by fashion I of course mean my version of fashion. you're probably wondering what my version of fashion is. I will tell you in two words:
Jeans. Sneakers.
Yes, yes, I know that makes me horribly lesbian. But I can't help it.
I love shoes (sneakers).
And I love jeans.
I bring it up because I went jean shopping today. I take pride in my jeans. I love my jeans. AND I know what you're going to ask and the answer is: yes. Yes. Just because I am a lesbian does not mean I am not a woman, thus I ALWAYS check how the jeans make my ass look. Always. In fact, that's what I spend most of the time looking at when I buy jeans, straining over my shoulder-looking at my ass-in-jeans.
It's important that I have jeans that are comfortable and classy and for me-that means buying out of the little boy's section in Kohls. I have never ever been comfortable wearing jeans I've bought out of the girls section. Here is my rant about girl jeans:
a) They get all up in my business.
b) If they fit over my hips they're too long in the leg.
c) If they fit in the leg I can't give them over my hips.
d) If I bend down my butt gets chilly.
Um. No Thanks.
Thus, for their comfort and style I like I get boy jeans.
Yes.
I know that makes me horribly gay, but whatever. I probably own one pair of jeans that are actually "girl's jeans."
Now I will talk about sneakers. I have a few pairs of sneakers for all occasions:
Sneakers for going out.
Sneakers for walking outside.
Sneakers for doing stuff where I'm going to get messy.
Sneakers for sneaking.
It is important to have sneakers for all occasions. I don't think I've worn heals since prom. Seriously. You can find a pair of sneakers for any and ever occasion. Seriously.
Ok, with all this talk about jeans and sneakers, you're probably thinking, "Amy, are you a semi-nudist? Don't you wear anything on top?"
No.
I'm not a semi-nudist.
My favorite shirts are my tight fitting black t-shirts that make me look a little like Danny Zuko (maybe just out of the corner of your eye for a split second enough to think "Did Danny Zuko lose 80 pounds and shrink?) and of course...my button-downs.
I know. So gay.
This is just a lesson in lesbian fashion 101.
Um and this post about fashion this is a perfectly segue into my word of the day..
WORD OF THE DAY
Couture: the business of designing fashionable custom-made women's clothing.
And now. In a sentence:
Up until about yesterday, Amy thought that Couture was a designer's name, like Dior or Armani. However, it is not. It simply means what the definition states: fashionable custom-made women's clothing.
And yes. That sentence is true. I did actually think "couture" was a name.
It's not.
QUOTE OF THE DAY
MOM FROM THE STUDIO: You wouldn't send the children out to play in that field next to your building in the rain during a tornado warning, would you?
Yes mam. Yes. We would. We also covered their heads in tin foil and made-up a game called, "who can ground lightening the fastest?"
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Life Beyond The Blog
So lately I've been having that whole "what am I going to do with my life?" thought process in my head. I mean, what am I going to do with my life besides blog? I am going to be graduating college soon and granted I'm already in the working force...but what direction do I want my life to take?
So I've come up with a few things I hope to do with my life:
1) I'd like to have a travel show. Me and a friend would go cross country in a beat up RV. Like the opening credits would go like this:
"Hi I'm Amy."
"Hi I'm Meghan."
"And we're traveling cross country in this RV!"
(And then the front bumper to the RV falls off. Or maybe the engine).
It would be the best travel show ever. We wouldn't necessarily visit places that would help people plan trips or be where people would want to go...but we would be entertaining to watch.
"Today we are visiting the home of the world's largest potato, just off highway blah blah in blah blah blah. I'm going to see if they'll let me in with 10 rolls of tin foil. If I make it in with the tin foil, I'm going to start to wrap the potato. And if I get that far...well, we'll have to track down an oven large enough to bake it."
On some shows we would randomly knock on someone's door and see if we could stay for dinner. And then I guess sometimes would could do meaningful stuff like...an episode about the Grand Canyon or something. But that episode would at the very least, include a donkey ride down to the bottom.
2)I would really, really, REALLY like to be in an action movie at some point. Ok. I spend, probably 60-70% of the day day-dreaming. Seriously. And probably 15-20% of those day-dreams are about being in an action movie.
Like...me jumping from the roof of one building to another.
Like...me in high speed car chase/gun fight in a parking garage.
Like...the big steel doors closing on a warehouse so the villain can get away and put his evil plot into motion and me making it through just in time by way of a slide across the floor or some sort of dramatic dive, or sometimes, by way of a motorcycle. THEN I get off, rip off my helmet, shake out my hair, put my "mad" face on and say, "All right, [insert villain name here], the jig is up. So why don't you just surrender now and give back the nuclear warhead. And all that money you stole from the orphanage, those kids won't go without a Christmas on my watch." But then the villain would start to run, and we'd be in a warehouse, so you know...there's lots of crap everywhere. So we start to run through the warehouse and it's hard to tell where the bad guy is going. I round a corner and...he trips me and cocks his gun right in my face. Villain man says, "Looks like the jig is up for you now, Connor (my action-movie name), and I'll never give that money back to the orphans. Looks like Santa won't be coming for them this year." And just as he's about to pull the trigger, I kick him in the balls, flip up, knock the gun out of his hand, head butt him, and cock the gun in his face. I say, "Oh Santa's coming this year." Then I smirk, and radio for back-up to come and take the scum-bag in, 'cause I just chase down the criminals and beat the crap out of them...I don't actually arrest them. Ok, so then cut to...just outside the warehouse. The bad guy is getting put in the police car and yells at me, "You'll pay for this Connor. You haven't heard the last from me!" (Sequel???)
OK. So then. The gorgeous detective from the FBI walks over to me and says, "Bang up job on catching [insert villain name here],Connor." OK, so I put down the ice on my black eye long enough to look her in the eye and say, "Thanks, Detective Campbell." THEN she says, "You can call me Vanessa." I say, "Ok...Vanessa." Then she says, "How about I buy you a drink. You know, just to say, 'Thank you for stopping a nuclear terrorist.'" Then I say, "Sorry, Vanessa, but I got an awful lot of paper work to get to on this case." Then Vanessa says, "I thought you just chase down the bad guys? You don't actually have anything to with arresting them?" I do my trademark (yes its a trademark now) smirk and say, "I suppose one drink couldn't hurt." And then one more trademark smirk, then Vanessa smiles, then maybe the movie ends there or maybe there's a scene where we make-out. I vote for make-out. Awesome. I think all I really want is to feel awesome like that for a second. And being in an action movie would make me feel really awesome. Especially if I got to make out with the hot detective at the end.
3)I really want to get a dog and make it my best friend. You know, the kind of dog that's follows you everywhere. Kind of like a side-kick. Not unlike my Dad and his toy-poodle. But unlike those two, my dog would be hardcore. My dog wouldn't be a wuss or mentally damaged and could actually do cool, dog things. Like...build a fire if we were ever lost in the wild, or track me down if I were ever kidnapped.
...Um. Yeah. That about sums it up. What I want to do with my life I mean...
a) Have a travel show.
b) Star in an action movie.
c) Get a side-kick dog.
...Oh yeah I'd also really like to be a pirate at some point. Like on the ocean. Mostly 'cause I think they're outfits are cool and I think it would be fun to man a pirate ship.
WORD OF THE DAY
Found on a jaunt through the dictionary:
Megadeath: one million deaths - used as a unit in reference to nuclear warfare.
And now. In a sentence:
Connor's fabulous dectective work and ass-kicking tactics that averted an attack by [insert villain name here] likely saved the world from numerous megadeaths.
QUOTE OF THE DAY
Once again from a conversation from the studio...
MIKE: How old are you??
ME: I'm 94.
GIANNA: You look pretty good for your age.
ME: Why thank you.
MIKE: How old are you really?
ME: Really? I'm 32.
MIKE: Really?
ME: Really.
LILY: You don't look 32.
ME: Well I am.
MIKE: You look like you're 12.
LILY: Yeah. I thought you were like 15.
ME: Ok really? I'm 21.
MIKE: Ok. That's better. But you still look like you're 12.
So I've come up with a few things I hope to do with my life:
1) I'd like to have a travel show. Me and a friend would go cross country in a beat up RV. Like the opening credits would go like this:
"Hi I'm Amy."
"Hi I'm Meghan."
"And we're traveling cross country in this RV!"
(And then the front bumper to the RV falls off. Or maybe the engine).
It would be the best travel show ever. We wouldn't necessarily visit places that would help people plan trips or be where people would want to go...but we would be entertaining to watch.
"Today we are visiting the home of the world's largest potato, just off highway blah blah in blah blah blah. I'm going to see if they'll let me in with 10 rolls of tin foil. If I make it in with the tin foil, I'm going to start to wrap the potato. And if I get that far...well, we'll have to track down an oven large enough to bake it."
On some shows we would randomly knock on someone's door and see if we could stay for dinner. And then I guess sometimes would could do meaningful stuff like...an episode about the Grand Canyon or something. But that episode would at the very least, include a donkey ride down to the bottom.
2)I would really, really, REALLY like to be in an action movie at some point. Ok. I spend, probably 60-70% of the day day-dreaming. Seriously. And probably 15-20% of those day-dreams are about being in an action movie.
Like...me jumping from the roof of one building to another.
Like...me in high speed car chase/gun fight in a parking garage.
Like...the big steel doors closing on a warehouse so the villain can get away and put his evil plot into motion and me making it through just in time by way of a slide across the floor or some sort of dramatic dive, or sometimes, by way of a motorcycle. THEN I get off, rip off my helmet, shake out my hair, put my "mad" face on and say, "All right, [insert villain name here], the jig is up. So why don't you just surrender now and give back the nuclear warhead. And all that money you stole from the orphanage, those kids won't go without a Christmas on my watch." But then the villain would start to run, and we'd be in a warehouse, so you know...there's lots of crap everywhere. So we start to run through the warehouse and it's hard to tell where the bad guy is going. I round a corner and...he trips me and cocks his gun right in my face. Villain man says, "Looks like the jig is up for you now, Connor (my action-movie name), and I'll never give that money back to the orphans. Looks like Santa won't be coming for them this year." And just as he's about to pull the trigger, I kick him in the balls, flip up, knock the gun out of his hand, head butt him, and cock the gun in his face. I say, "Oh Santa's coming this year." Then I smirk, and radio for back-up to come and take the scum-bag in, 'cause I just chase down the criminals and beat the crap out of them...I don't actually arrest them. Ok, so then cut to...just outside the warehouse. The bad guy is getting put in the police car and yells at me, "You'll pay for this Connor. You haven't heard the last from me!" (Sequel???)
OK. So then. The gorgeous detective from the FBI walks over to me and says, "Bang up job on catching [insert villain name here],Connor." OK, so I put down the ice on my black eye long enough to look her in the eye and say, "Thanks, Detective Campbell." THEN she says, "You can call me Vanessa." I say, "Ok...Vanessa." Then she says, "How about I buy you a drink. You know, just to say, 'Thank you for stopping a nuclear terrorist.'" Then I say, "Sorry, Vanessa, but I got an awful lot of paper work to get to on this case." Then Vanessa says, "I thought you just chase down the bad guys? You don't actually have anything to with arresting them?" I do my trademark (yes its a trademark now) smirk and say, "I suppose one drink couldn't hurt." And then one more trademark smirk, then Vanessa smiles, then maybe the movie ends there or maybe there's a scene where we make-out. I vote for make-out. Awesome. I think all I really want is to feel awesome like that for a second. And being in an action movie would make me feel really awesome. Especially if I got to make out with the hot detective at the end.
3)I really want to get a dog and make it my best friend. You know, the kind of dog that's follows you everywhere. Kind of like a side-kick. Not unlike my Dad and his toy-poodle. But unlike those two, my dog would be hardcore. My dog wouldn't be a wuss or mentally damaged and could actually do cool, dog things. Like...build a fire if we were ever lost in the wild, or track me down if I were ever kidnapped.
...Um. Yeah. That about sums it up. What I want to do with my life I mean...
a) Have a travel show.
b) Star in an action movie.
c) Get a side-kick dog.
...Oh yeah I'd also really like to be a pirate at some point. Like on the ocean. Mostly 'cause I think they're outfits are cool and I think it would be fun to man a pirate ship.
WORD OF THE DAY
Found on a jaunt through the dictionary:
Megadeath: one million deaths - used as a unit in reference to nuclear warfare.
And now. In a sentence:
Connor's fabulous dectective work and ass-kicking tactics that averted an attack by [insert villain name here] likely saved the world from numerous megadeaths.
QUOTE OF THE DAY
Once again from a conversation from the studio...
MIKE: How old are you??
ME: I'm 94.
GIANNA: You look pretty good for your age.
ME: Why thank you.
MIKE: How old are you really?
ME: Really? I'm 32.
MIKE: Really?
ME: Really.
LILY: You don't look 32.
ME: Well I am.
MIKE: You look like you're 12.
LILY: Yeah. I thought you were like 15.
ME: Ok really? I'm 21.
MIKE: Ok. That's better. But you still look like you're 12.
Labels:
Animals,
Being Hot?,
Blogging,
Hopes and Dreams
Friday, August 03, 2007
For The Championship of The World...
So we're having a party for my brother's graduation tomorrow. My uncle brought over his "Washers" game for everyone to play. For those who don't know its kind of like playing bags or cornholes, just more annoying. Basically it's two boards with three holes cut in them. They kinda look like stoplights and one person stands on one side and tries to throw washers, yes washers-the-things-you-use-with-nut-and-bolts, into the holes on the opposite board. The closest hole is worth one point, the next is worth two, and the farthest hole is worth three. First team to 21 wins (there's two people on a team). So my uncle brought this over tonight so I thought I would work on my "Washers" skill and get a jump on kicking everyones' ass tomorrow (yeah right). Basically, I was practicing in the hopes of not making an ass of myself tomorrow. ANYWAY. I realized as I practiced that I still do that thing in my head...
Before I threw a washer I would say to myself, "This is for the championship of the world..."
I used to do it when I shot hoops, or played street hockey. I would imagine I was some really important player, on some really important team, down by a few points with only a few seconds left to play...and I had the puck or ball or whatever. And just before I'm ready to make that dramatic, game-turning play, I say in my head (or sometimes outloud), "This is for the championship of the world."
Apparently, I still do that. Just with "Washers."
I even found myseld saying this in my head, "Cornelius has had a hard run tonight. Her throws have been kind of "off" to put it nicely. But I've never seen someone pull it out of the bag quite the way she can. She can take everything back here if she can just land this last washer into the three-hole. That would be all it would take. This is, after all, for the championship of the world..."
And then I threw my last washer and it promptly klunked off the side of the board and to the right, just missing the nice pile of poop my dog just left...
"Granted it has been difficult play for Cornelius tonight. Molly, her deranged toy-poodle has been chasing down each washer as she throws. And I know Cornelius is a kind-hearted animal lover and doesn't want to klunk a dog this size in the head with a washer as it would probably knock the dog out. So now Cornelius just has to wait for the dog to stop sniffing the washer...and clawing at it...well now she has to wait for the dog to stop staring at her waiting to throw the next washer...and...ok...looks like the dog has taken interest in the pile of crap she left earlier..."
Damn. What I wouldn't give to score the winning point for The Championship of The World. Then maybe they'd make a movie about me.
Sweet.
Anyway. In other news. No responses from the "Missed Connections" ad I posted on craigslist. Oh, the pain of being slighted even by the crazies. Maybe I'll get one yet, but I have to admit I'm a little disappointed. Not that I expected ice cream girl to respond, I expected a lot crazy answers from Chicago's (or maybe California's) crazy lesbians. And in case you thought I was kidding about the women4women missed connections section being full of drama and broken dreams....here's a gem I picked up...
"You're the one I sit near all night, noticing you across the bar, and when I finally get up the courage to talk to you, you've already left with your friends. You're the one I find on some web site, and we e-mail back and forth. I invest my time, and intellect, you do the same, and I begin to feel the urge to meet. But then something happens: your ex shows up, and you don't wish to 'hurt' me, or worse still, you decide that you've already met 'the one' who happened to contact you just before I did, and you want nothing from me, not even a friendship. Or you write, and sound interesting, we exchange photos, set a date, and suddenly, I never hear from you again. Do you exist? I believe you do, and in hopes that the universe respects this attempt at putting it out there, I hope to meet you soon."
...And lest I run the risk of being sued for plagarism for posting that little piece of "late-night-lesbian-poetry-slam" material, I will credit the author as being some drama-ridden, broken-dreamed, lesbian living somewhere in the greater Chicago area. In case you're wondering, my tone now is sub-dued and serious. Not the normal tongue-in-cheek-spunky-random-slightly-sarcastic-tone. Because I fully realize that this lesbian could one day be me.
I am going to die alone with 40 cats and a hot tub in a studio apartment...I see it before me like a vision...I wonder if you're allowed to have a hot tub in a studio apartement...pretty sure 40 cats are cool. But I don't know about the hot tub. So maybe I'll die alone with 40 cats and a jacuzzi tub in a studio apartment. Hm. Yes. That seems more reasonable.
So in case you're wondering some more...I took myself off the personals website. Match.com just freaks me out too much. You'd probably feel the same way if you the only "wink" you got was from a 37 year-old in California. I'll meet any potential lesbians the old-fashioned way...by stalking them at coffee shops.
So aside from scoring the winning point for the championship of the world...I also wish I could sing and dance. I saw Hairspray and since that moment I've wanted to dance through the streets of the suburbs singing "Welcome to the Sixties."
Go Mama! Go! Go! Go! Musicals make me so happy inside. I feel like I should hate them as a serious student of theatre. Musicals are trite theatre-of-the-man. Yet I love them. It makes me wonder if I am part gay man.
So this blog started coherant and has now dissolved into random fits. Oh well...
HEY! I just remembered. Why the hell are you reading my blog, don't you know its SHARK WEEK??? AHHH!!! SHARK WEEK! I've already watched three hours of it. One whole hour was devoted to my favorite shark, The Great White, and what happens when it attacks people (most of the time it doesn't just want a big hug like I originally thought) (most of the time it wants to see if you're a crippled seal and good for eating. It does this by ripping your leg or some other extremity off or out). I also watched this show on how these Great White Sharks (my buddies) breach off the coast of South Africa. It is crazy. They literally jump all the way out of the water to snag some poor seal swimming on the surface. I feel bad for the seal, but it also one of the craziest things I've ever seen. Whenever I see it, for a second I believe that my worst nightmare have come true and Great White Sharks have learned how to fly. Because as much as I like Great White Sharks...I sure as hell never want to meet them. I mean I do know some karate but I highly doubt that would intimidate a shark. ANYWAY. If you haven't see sharks breach, I would advise an immediate trip to youtube. Oh here, I'll just give it to you:
P.S. WATCH THE WHOLE THING!!
WORD OF THE DAY
Just because I was curious what it would say in the dictionary...
GREAT WHITE SHARK: a large and dangerous shark of warm seas that has large saw-edged teeth and is whitish below and bluish or brownish above.
And now. In a sentence:
Sweet baby Jesus! The Sharks have evolved to master the art of flight! We're doomed!
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
This comes, as many quotes of the day do, from the studio....
KID A: How old are you?
ME: 21.
KID B: Whoa! She's old enough to play games rated "T."
KID A: She's old enough to play games rated "A."
All the kids then oooo and ahhh. And I feel old.
Before I threw a washer I would say to myself, "This is for the championship of the world..."
I used to do it when I shot hoops, or played street hockey. I would imagine I was some really important player, on some really important team, down by a few points with only a few seconds left to play...and I had the puck or ball or whatever. And just before I'm ready to make that dramatic, game-turning play, I say in my head (or sometimes outloud), "This is for the championship of the world."
Apparently, I still do that. Just with "Washers."
I even found myseld saying this in my head, "Cornelius has had a hard run tonight. Her throws have been kind of "off" to put it nicely. But I've never seen someone pull it out of the bag quite the way she can. She can take everything back here if she can just land this last washer into the three-hole. That would be all it would take. This is, after all, for the championship of the world..."
And then I threw my last washer and it promptly klunked off the side of the board and to the right, just missing the nice pile of poop my dog just left...
"Granted it has been difficult play for Cornelius tonight. Molly, her deranged toy-poodle has been chasing down each washer as she throws. And I know Cornelius is a kind-hearted animal lover and doesn't want to klunk a dog this size in the head with a washer as it would probably knock the dog out. So now Cornelius just has to wait for the dog to stop sniffing the washer...and clawing at it...well now she has to wait for the dog to stop staring at her waiting to throw the next washer...and...ok...looks like the dog has taken interest in the pile of crap she left earlier..."
Damn. What I wouldn't give to score the winning point for The Championship of The World. Then maybe they'd make a movie about me.
Sweet.
Anyway. In other news. No responses from the "Missed Connections" ad I posted on craigslist. Oh, the pain of being slighted even by the crazies. Maybe I'll get one yet, but I have to admit I'm a little disappointed. Not that I expected ice cream girl to respond, I expected a lot crazy answers from Chicago's (or maybe California's) crazy lesbians. And in case you thought I was kidding about the women4women missed connections section being full of drama and broken dreams....here's a gem I picked up...
"You're the one I sit near all night, noticing you across the bar, and when I finally get up the courage to talk to you, you've already left with your friends. You're the one I find on some web site, and we e-mail back and forth. I invest my time, and intellect, you do the same, and I begin to feel the urge to meet. But then something happens: your ex shows up, and you don't wish to 'hurt' me, or worse still, you decide that you've already met 'the one' who happened to contact you just before I did, and you want nothing from me, not even a friendship. Or you write, and sound interesting, we exchange photos, set a date, and suddenly, I never hear from you again. Do you exist? I believe you do, and in hopes that the universe respects this attempt at putting it out there, I hope to meet you soon."
...And lest I run the risk of being sued for plagarism for posting that little piece of "late-night-lesbian-poetry-slam" material, I will credit the author as being some drama-ridden, broken-dreamed, lesbian living somewhere in the greater Chicago area. In case you're wondering, my tone now is sub-dued and serious. Not the normal tongue-in-cheek-spunky-random-slightly-sarcastic-tone. Because I fully realize that this lesbian could one day be me.
I am going to die alone with 40 cats and a hot tub in a studio apartment...I see it before me like a vision...I wonder if you're allowed to have a hot tub in a studio apartement...pretty sure 40 cats are cool. But I don't know about the hot tub. So maybe I'll die alone with 40 cats and a jacuzzi tub in a studio apartment. Hm. Yes. That seems more reasonable.
So in case you're wondering some more...I took myself off the personals website. Match.com just freaks me out too much. You'd probably feel the same way if you the only "wink" you got was from a 37 year-old in California. I'll meet any potential lesbians the old-fashioned way...by stalking them at coffee shops.
So aside from scoring the winning point for the championship of the world...I also wish I could sing and dance. I saw Hairspray and since that moment I've wanted to dance through the streets of the suburbs singing "Welcome to the Sixties."
Go Mama! Go! Go! Go! Musicals make me so happy inside. I feel like I should hate them as a serious student of theatre. Musicals are trite theatre-of-the-man. Yet I love them. It makes me wonder if I am part gay man.
So this blog started coherant and has now dissolved into random fits. Oh well...
HEY! I just remembered. Why the hell are you reading my blog, don't you know its SHARK WEEK??? AHHH!!! SHARK WEEK! I've already watched three hours of it. One whole hour was devoted to my favorite shark, The Great White, and what happens when it attacks people (most of the time it doesn't just want a big hug like I originally thought) (most of the time it wants to see if you're a crippled seal and good for eating. It does this by ripping your leg or some other extremity off or out). I also watched this show on how these Great White Sharks (my buddies) breach off the coast of South Africa. It is crazy. They literally jump all the way out of the water to snag some poor seal swimming on the surface. I feel bad for the seal, but it also one of the craziest things I've ever seen. Whenever I see it, for a second I believe that my worst nightmare have come true and Great White Sharks have learned how to fly. Because as much as I like Great White Sharks...I sure as hell never want to meet them. I mean I do know some karate but I highly doubt that would intimidate a shark. ANYWAY. If you haven't see sharks breach, I would advise an immediate trip to youtube. Oh here, I'll just give it to you:
P.S. WATCH THE WHOLE THING!!
WORD OF THE DAY
Just because I was curious what it would say in the dictionary...
GREAT WHITE SHARK: a large and dangerous shark of warm seas that has large saw-edged teeth and is whitish below and bluish or brownish above.
And now. In a sentence:
Sweet baby Jesus! The Sharks have evolved to master the art of flight! We're doomed!
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
This comes, as many quotes of the day do, from the studio....
KID A: How old are you?
ME: 21.
KID B: Whoa! She's old enough to play games rated "T."
KID A: She's old enough to play games rated "A."
All the kids then oooo and ahhh. And I feel old.
Labels:
Animals,
Being A Kid,
Gay Things,
Girls,
Molly
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Hey! It's Experiment Time.
Ok, so this "finding abother lesbian" thing is going to make me really fat. I went to dinner with my pal Meghan last night in Andersonville, which is a huge gay area. We got ice cream later and this super cute girl was working behind the counter. I'm not sure if she was gay or not, but I gave her my cutest smile, made good eye contact and asked for a scoop of strawberry and a scoop of chocolate in a waffle cone. She, in turn, made good eye contact with me, gave me an adorable smile and handed me an ice cream cone. Three strikes and I think I'm in love. Gotta love a girl who deals in ice cream.
So, this one works at an ice cream shop, the other Lez Magoos hang out a coffee shop and any further stakeouts could leave my slim figure...not so slim.
So I've decided to do a little experiment...For the sake of science. For the sake of entertaining the folks that read this blog. For the sake of the small part of me that believes maybe this girl I saw last night possibly thought I was cute too...
I am going to post a missed connections ad on craigslist. I will post any responses I get to the missed connections ad here. I'm sure we will all be thouroughly entertained. Because I should also mention that the "missed connections" area on craigslist, particularly the women4women section is where I go after a bad day to have a good and hearty laugh as it is full of drama and broken dreams.
Ok?
Let the games begin. Here is the ad I posted:
Cute Ice Cream Tender - w4w - 21 (Andersonville)
I saw you last night at an ice cream shop on Clark St. in Andersonville. You were working behind the counter and made up my scoop of chocolate/scoop of strawberry in a waffle cone. You should know that I thought you were very cute. Your smile melted my little heart faster than soft serve left in the sun.
So we'll see what kind of response this gets. 37 year-olds from California? Random Latin gay men from the Lake front? Absolutely no one?
Only time will tell.
Tune into, Confusing Ideas Since 1986, for all the gory details. Because I'm sure they will be very gory. And by gory I mean crazy.
WORD OF THE DAY
So I found this word today while I was looking up "behind" to make sure I spelled it correctly for my craigslist ad. I can never remember if there's an "e" on the end of "behind" or not...
There's not.
BEECHNUT (n): the nut of a beech.
And now. In a sentence:
Hey! Watchout! That guy just threw a beechnut at your head.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
(After a long, grotesque discussions about the TV show Dirty Jobs, the episode where the host went to a water treatment plant, aka the place where all the poop goes.)
MEGHAN: (Before taking a sip of water. Water thats been likely "treated" at a water treatment plant. An epiphany, very serious) Poop is part of our lives, Amy. (Pause) (Pause) Well, that was profound. No duh poop is part of our lives. Amy, did you know poop was a part of our lives, seeing as how, oh, I don't know...everyone poops!
...I should mention that anyone who uses the word "poop" in conversation should know that it will probably end up in the quote of the day section. I find the word "poop" hilarious and as an adult I don't get to use it nearly as much as I would like. I have to use words like "feces" or "the results of a bowel movement" instead of poop. And it's tiring. I find the actual word, poop, very refreshing. It has often in the past made a quote of the day appearance and will continue to do so in the future. So if poop offends you...you better start reading a different blog. Because I'm also friends with Meghan who is just as fascinated with the word as I am.
So, this one works at an ice cream shop, the other Lez Magoos hang out a coffee shop and any further stakeouts could leave my slim figure...not so slim.
So I've decided to do a little experiment...For the sake of science. For the sake of entertaining the folks that read this blog. For the sake of the small part of me that believes maybe this girl I saw last night possibly thought I was cute too...
I am going to post a missed connections ad on craigslist. I will post any responses I get to the missed connections ad here. I'm sure we will all be thouroughly entertained. Because I should also mention that the "missed connections" area on craigslist, particularly the women4women section is where I go after a bad day to have a good and hearty laugh as it is full of drama and broken dreams.
Ok?
Let the games begin. Here is the ad I posted:
Cute Ice Cream Tender - w4w - 21 (Andersonville)
I saw you last night at an ice cream shop on Clark St. in Andersonville. You were working behind the counter and made up my scoop of chocolate/scoop of strawberry in a waffle cone. You should know that I thought you were very cute. Your smile melted my little heart faster than soft serve left in the sun.
So we'll see what kind of response this gets. 37 year-olds from California? Random Latin gay men from the Lake front? Absolutely no one?
Only time will tell.
Tune into, Confusing Ideas Since 1986, for all the gory details. Because I'm sure they will be very gory. And by gory I mean crazy.
WORD OF THE DAY
So I found this word today while I was looking up "behind" to make sure I spelled it correctly for my craigslist ad. I can never remember if there's an "e" on the end of "behind" or not...
There's not.
BEECHNUT (n): the nut of a beech.
And now. In a sentence:
Hey! Watchout! That guy just threw a beechnut at your head.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
(After a long, grotesque discussions about the TV show Dirty Jobs, the episode where the host went to a water treatment plant, aka the place where all the poop goes.)
MEGHAN: (Before taking a sip of water. Water thats been likely "treated" at a water treatment plant. An epiphany, very serious) Poop is part of our lives, Amy. (Pause) (Pause) Well, that was profound. No duh poop is part of our lives. Amy, did you know poop was a part of our lives, seeing as how, oh, I don't know...everyone poops!
...I should mention that anyone who uses the word "poop" in conversation should know that it will probably end up in the quote of the day section. I find the word "poop" hilarious and as an adult I don't get to use it nearly as much as I would like. I have to use words like "feces" or "the results of a bowel movement" instead of poop. And it's tiring. I find the actual word, poop, very refreshing. It has often in the past made a quote of the day appearance and will continue to do so in the future. So if poop offends you...you better start reading a different blog. Because I'm also friends with Meghan who is just as fascinated with the word as I am.
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