I'm not feeling very wonderful today. I know this won't get out to who I want to tell, but I want to say it out anyways since I can't find their e-mail.
I'm sorry, Jon and Kate plus eight. I'm sorry Jon, I'm sorry Kate, and I'm sorry Mady, Cara, Alexis, Collin, Joel, Hannah, Aaden and Leah.
I haven't ever doubted your realism, and have loved watching your life, as disgusting as it sounds...from your first special I have been touched to see your life and how you have done with your family. You are a family and I've never thought of you any other way.
I just watched the season 5 premier and I am increasingly upset. From before it was always talking about their life, and now they're talking about a new, unrealistic but true aspect of their life - the paparazzi.
I've always hated what media has done to celebrities. It is disgusting and if one thing goes out of line for them, whoever they are, they are in deep trouble. No matter what.
I started to cry, watching that episode. While Kate was trying to plan her beautiful sextuplets' fifth birthday, what happens but she has to hide from the paparazzi and... I started to cry when Jon and Kate were talking about the trouble that they were facing because of the media and the horrible things that viewers have done. I started to cry when the paparazzi tried to invade the party...I cried and cried when Kate mentioned the unmentionable.
I'm terrified for them, and even though I didn't do a thing to help promote what horrible things are done to them, I can't help but say it.
I'm sorry.
I know I didn't do anything, but I know you need to hear it.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
You can stop if you like. I won't mind. I'll be happy if you do if it would stop this.
I am so, so, so sorry.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
a fwudge of housekeeping
The lack of blog death continues! For I would like to point out and test the functionality of a new account because I changed e-mail addresses and therefore had to open up a whole new bloggermajig username 'n' everything. If you would like, you can now call me the blogger formerly known as j9‽. Though I really, really hope you won't.
So like I said a coupla posts ago with my dear friend ThaReeza, we're going to try to blog more - often I have ideas for hypothetical posts that never make it on the internet because I never know what to do here - and we both decided to make this a little less pure random (it'll still be there, not to worry) but with other stuff too. Here we go.
I call it "Prince Charming Syndrome." It is a simple principle - Love Interest is in horrific need of a personality, and the generally otherwise interesting main character can't seem to get over the pheromones that Love Interest douses themselves with to remedy this problem. What ensues is a "love story" that nobody cares about or can believe in during its formulaic formation or the sugary sweet stereotypical situation that results. So Love Interest is more of an ideal than anything because they have to be perfect, and you can't realistically portray anybody prominently without a few flaws.
Damage control damage control damage control - of course it isn't always this way, and of course there are always big exceptions to the observations, but this , and it's fun to write about!
In the meantime, there is often Secondary Interest - another love interest, a job, or maybe a possessive possessive dog. They (Secondary Interest, not the dog) are interesting because there is more wiggle room to play around with their character - flaws can be rampant because they are invariably going to be dumped. However! In order to make them a "believable" contender for the main character, they need to be at least a little bit appealing. So now we have boring with no screen time vs. interesting, flawed, and lots of screen time. (Or page time if it's in a book, brain time if it's a hallucination, etc.)
SOUND EFFECT! In comes valiant Love Interest in the light of one thing that Secondary Interest does wrong, and Main Character is swayed by the pheromones and runs off with Love Interest and ostensibly goes and has 50% bland babies with them. (Side note: googling "50% bland babies" turns up no results, but Google does take the liberty of suggesting "50% blind babies." Also, in its listing for "50% bland babies" without quotes, the word "folktronic" pops up. The internet: an interesting, if not sometimes horrible, place.) So now we can't believe in anything the main character does or has done because we're sitting there gaping at how stupid they can be. (If we're that emotionally invested in the first place.) Gah! All that flimsy fake character development for nothing, and a plot that just seems to have fallen apart.
Sometimes this is okay - case in point, Disney movies - but dare I say more of the time it is frustrating - case in point, what I was watching when I thought of this, The Phantom of the Opera. (Which was still great, I have to say, because I saw it on Broadway with the positively fanmazingtasticstupenulousedible Howard McGillin as the Phantom and the standing room only tickets were cheap, but during the walk to the bus station and the subsequent ride back to New Jersey, where the hotel happened to be located, the conversation between my dad and I consisted of the following: the shoes he bought out of boredom (he is awesome), the idiotic bratty teenage girls I stood beside (read this like a vapid whiny valley girl, please: "why did that lady kick those people out of the aisle? She said it was a fire hazard? It sooooo wasn't a fire hazaaaard. If I ever become an 80-year-old bag that works in a theatre and yells at people, just shoot me okay just shoot me." It was only a fire hazard to people trying to get out of the building, I was only a few people away and couldn't hear the "yelling," possibly due to its absence, and the usherette was maybe 50...but I digress), my sister getting sick and having to go home early so I couldn't get my Playbill signed (we all got sick during the trip, but I was the first and worst - and getting autographs was just squee for the whole thing), and my griping about the love story having an insufferable ending, which was in a word exasperating after hype that refuses to die after 21 years and all that setup and...well, anyways.) What character depth is there in choosing the perfect, bland one instead of the flawed, interesting one?
What's even worse is when the timing is all wrong and they end up getting together and breaking up and getting together and breaking up and getting together and cheating and getting together and one announcing to the other that they are leaving for a Bavarian fish trainer and getting together and the expense of said Bavarian fish trainer and running out of screen time/pages/duration of hallucination.
So! The love story being a staple in everything for centuries upon centuries, I guess it kind of fits if you really have to look for the good ones - or at least the ones that don't make you want to puke from the stupidity of the development (unless love stories already do make you puke).
With that, something that I've been thinking about for a while is vented, conveniently coinciding with the promise that I would write something on the beloved bloggy blog when I had time - and here we are. Have a glorious Easter, whether you celebrate it in the religious or commercialized bunny candy manner (I'm in the former category, ThaReeza in the latter, but Flooflesquee is an open-minded place, so no worries), and I hope you enjoyed this post - if not, tell me why; I'm still in the process of honing the blog abilities. Thank you for reading!
So like I said a coupla posts ago with my dear friend ThaReeza, we're going to try to blog more - often I have ideas for hypothetical posts that never make it on the internet because I never know what to do here - and we both decided to make this a little less pure random (it'll still be there, not to worry) but with other stuff too. Here we go.
I call it "Prince Charming Syndrome." It is a simple principle - Love Interest is in horrific need of a personality, and the generally otherwise interesting main character can't seem to get over the pheromones that Love Interest douses themselves with to remedy this problem. What ensues is a "love story" that nobody cares about or can believe in during its formulaic formation or the sugary sweet stereotypical situation that results. So Love Interest is more of an ideal than anything because they have to be perfect, and you can't realistically portray anybody prominently without a few flaws.
Damage control damage control damage control - of course it isn't always this way, and of course there are always big exceptions to the observations, but this , and it's fun to write about!
In the meantime, there is often Secondary Interest - another love interest, a job, or maybe a possessive possessive dog. They (Secondary Interest, not the dog) are interesting because there is more wiggle room to play around with their character - flaws can be rampant because they are invariably going to be dumped. However! In order to make them a "believable" contender for the main character, they need to be at least a little bit appealing. So now we have boring with no screen time vs. interesting, flawed, and lots of screen time. (Or page time if it's in a book, brain time if it's a hallucination, etc.)
SOUND EFFECT! In comes valiant Love Interest in the light of one thing that Secondary Interest does wrong, and Main Character is swayed by the pheromones and runs off with Love Interest and ostensibly goes and has 50% bland babies with them. (Side note: googling "50% bland babies" turns up no results, but Google does take the liberty of suggesting "50% blind babies." Also, in its listing for "50% bland babies" without quotes, the word "folktronic" pops up. The internet: an interesting, if not sometimes horrible, place.) So now we can't believe in anything the main character does or has done because we're sitting there gaping at how stupid they can be. (If we're that emotionally invested in the first place.) Gah! All that flimsy fake character development for nothing, and a plot that just seems to have fallen apart.
Sometimes this is okay - case in point, Disney movies - but dare I say more of the time it is frustrating - case in point, what I was watching when I thought of this, The Phantom of the Opera. (Which was still great, I have to say, because I saw it on Broadway with the positively fanmazingtasticstupenulousedible Howard McGillin as the Phantom and the standing room only tickets were cheap, but during the walk to the bus station and the subsequent ride back to New Jersey, where the hotel happened to be located, the conversation between my dad and I consisted of the following: the shoes he bought out of boredom (he is awesome), the idiotic bratty teenage girls I stood beside (read this like a vapid whiny valley girl, please: "why did that lady kick those people out of the aisle? She said it was a fire hazard? It sooooo wasn't a fire hazaaaard. If I ever become an 80-year-old bag that works in a theatre and yells at people, just shoot me okay just shoot me." It was only a fire hazard to people trying to get out of the building, I was only a few people away and couldn't hear the "yelling," possibly due to its absence, and the usherette was maybe 50...but I digress), my sister getting sick and having to go home early so I couldn't get my Playbill signed (we all got sick during the trip, but I was the first and worst - and getting autographs was just squee for the whole thing), and my griping about the love story having an insufferable ending, which was in a word exasperating after hype that refuses to die after 21 years and all that setup and...well, anyways.) What character depth is there in choosing the perfect, bland one instead of the flawed, interesting one?
What's even worse is when the timing is all wrong and they end up getting together and breaking up and getting together and breaking up and getting together and cheating and getting together and one announcing to the other that they are leaving for a Bavarian fish trainer and getting together and the expense of said Bavarian fish trainer and running out of screen time/pages/duration of hallucination.
So! The love story being a staple in everything for centuries upon centuries, I guess it kind of fits if you really have to look for the good ones - or at least the ones that don't make you want to puke from the stupidity of the development (unless love stories already do make you puke).
With that, something that I've been thinking about for a while is vented, conveniently coinciding with the promise that I would write something on the beloved bloggy blog when I had time - and here we are. Have a glorious Easter, whether you celebrate it in the religious or commercialized bunny candy manner (I'm in the former category, ThaReeza in the latter, but Flooflesquee is an open-minded place, so no worries), and I hope you enjoyed this post - if not, tell me why; I'm still in the process of honing the blog abilities. Thank you for reading!
Friday, March 20, 2009
WE LOVE YOU
Yeah, some doodles I'd like to share. The first is of my brother's good friend, Henry's character Regulus. Let's just say this is a likely scene of that guy. Seriously. It'd even be in pink.The second was a doodle I did today, while watching Mulan. At the end of the movie, Li comes to greet Mulan, and she asks him, "Would you like to stay for dinner?" and the Grandma shouts...well, you know what she shouts. *points at the picture obviously*
Ladeedah....I"m enjoying this blog. Me and J9‽ will have to snazz it up slightly, though. Some deco, like a boar head. That'll attract customers.
H'okay, toodles.
ThaReeza;-]
Mulan © Disney
Regulus © Henry Branscombe
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Another one???
Hey-ho peeps. This is ThaReeeza again! I thought I get some more ranting in...just because I like to rant and I think that you desperate readers (hardeehar...) would enjoy it. Well, someone will, even if they're some freaky person who has a fetish for freaks.
...Anyways, I guess the biggest reason I'm typing away is because I saw another one.
Yesterday me and J9 saw Jack what'shisface the monster slayer and it was weird. The movie I saw today was not weirder, I can assure you (thank GOSH) but it was still bizarre.
You know how in Edward Scissorhands there's the brightly coloured setting with the freak of nature hurting people? Imagine that with zombies. FREAKIN' ZOMBIES.
Imagine if whenever someone died they became one of these monsters. Then, hey, they're already dead, they won't mind, you go ahead and put a mind-controlling collar on it so it won't go eating people and use it as a non-living and somehow non-rotting slave? There you go, that's Fido for you. It was freaky...suburbia with zombies mowing the lawn, doing the gardening, walking the dog, and all that jazz. The kid/protagonist, Timmy (how pleasant can the setting get?) gets rather fond of his zombie and decides to name it the generic dog name we all have heard many many times.
Spot. NO.
Fido. This Fido reminds me of some sort of previously attractive and popular actor that died of a heart attack. He and the mother in the story share some kinky looks (it's always the "normal" people and the freakish monsters, isn't it?) but oh, no, she's married to Timmy's father, Bill. Apparently Mr. Bill had a horrible background with zombies and hates them, saying everyone should have a funeral, and goes to them for entertainment. Everyone thinks he's messed up, and in the beginning I thought so too. But, then again, he's wanting zombies to be buried, since they're dead. That sort of makes sense, doesn't it?
I don't know how much I giggled with the nervousness of a jellyfish/showercap when I saw how lighthearted everyone was about death -- Oop, there's a zombie. *BANG* There we go -- and how no matter what age you were, you had a gun. Hm. I wonder where this was set...
The main villain was also distasting zombies and no matter what I thought that he looked like George Clooney. I`m wrong....but the resemblance sticks.
I think another freaky thing about the movie is that some dude falls in love with one of the zombies. He and his beloved Tammy actually share a little kiss in the movie, and though it would be cute there are those OH GOD THE FREAKISH TEETH THAT EAT HUMAN FLESH OF FREAKY-NESS! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!
Well, that may make Tammy a good kisser. I wouldn`t know, personally. I've never kissed a zombie.
Overall the movie was actually kind of cute in a killing, bloodsucking kind of way. All I could think of while watching it though was that the kid reminded me of a mix between the Home Alone child and Old Howard (see previous post to get the joke).
*sigh* what a day. I can't wait, going to Mexico for Spring Break. It'll be a nice get-a-way. I mean, ever since my family god HD TV me and my mother have been watching the most awful and bizarre movies ever made, including those said today, and things like the Korean version of Godzilla.
I suppose having high definition shows the very hairs on the monster's faces...who knows...
Okay, time to turn off the rant. Toodles!
ThaReeeza;-]
Quote of the day that came from the movie:
"Just because your father tried to eat you doesn't mean that we have to be unhappy forever"
...Anyways, I guess the biggest reason I'm typing away is because I saw another one.
Yesterday me and J9 saw Jack what'shisface the monster slayer and it was weird. The movie I saw today was not weirder, I can assure you (thank GOSH) but it was still bizarre.
You know how in Edward Scissorhands there's the brightly coloured setting with the freak of nature hurting people? Imagine that with zombies. FREAKIN' ZOMBIES.
Imagine if whenever someone died they became one of these monsters. Then, hey, they're already dead, they won't mind, you go ahead and put a mind-controlling collar on it so it won't go eating people and use it as a non-living and somehow non-rotting slave? There you go, that's Fido for you. It was freaky...suburbia with zombies mowing the lawn, doing the gardening, walking the dog, and all that jazz. The kid/protagonist, Timmy (how pleasant can the setting get?) gets rather fond of his zombie and decides to name it the generic dog name we all have heard many many times.
Spot. NO.
Fido. This Fido reminds me of some sort of previously attractive and popular actor that died of a heart attack. He and the mother in the story share some kinky looks (it's always the "normal" people and the freakish monsters, isn't it?) but oh, no, she's married to Timmy's father, Bill. Apparently Mr. Bill had a horrible background with zombies and hates them, saying everyone should have a funeral, and goes to them for entertainment. Everyone thinks he's messed up, and in the beginning I thought so too. But, then again, he's wanting zombies to be buried, since they're dead. That sort of makes sense, doesn't it?
I don't know how much I giggled with the nervousness of a jellyfish/showercap when I saw how lighthearted everyone was about death -- Oop, there's a zombie. *BANG* There we go -- and how no matter what age you were, you had a gun. Hm. I wonder where this was set...
The main villain was also distasting zombies and no matter what I thought that he looked like George Clooney. I`m wrong....but the resemblance sticks.
I think another freaky thing about the movie is that some dude falls in love with one of the zombies. He and his beloved Tammy actually share a little kiss in the movie, and though it would be cute there are those OH GOD THE FREAKISH TEETH THAT EAT HUMAN FLESH OF FREAKY-NESS! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!
Well, that may make Tammy a good kisser. I wouldn`t know, personally. I've never kissed a zombie.
Overall the movie was actually kind of cute in a killing, bloodsucking kind of way. All I could think of while watching it though was that the kid reminded me of a mix between the Home Alone child and Old Howard (see previous post to get the joke).
*sigh* what a day. I can't wait, going to Mexico for Spring Break. It'll be a nice get-a-way. I mean, ever since my family god HD TV me and my mother have been watching the most awful and bizarre movies ever made, including those said today, and things like the Korean version of Godzilla.
I suppose having high definition shows the very hairs on the monster's faces...who knows...
Okay, time to turn off the rant. Toodles!
ThaReeeza;-]
Quote of the day that came from the movie:
"Just because your father tried to eat you doesn't mean that we have to be unhappy forever"
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
*whistle of amazement at the dusty*
Goodness me....goodness doogness schmoogness flimbledoodlieeooogilywoooowowowowowowowoooooooooo~
*ahem*, Goodness. What a long time it's been since the last post. A YEAR? Well, as a "blogger" I have to say that maybe I should, you know, blog.
I've also wanted to rant to no one in particular but have it on the internet so someone could possible notice it.
So, today me and j9‽ were "ganging out" at my home (typo actually intended, folks) and watched one of the weirdest yet funniest movies we've seen in a while. Seriously, it's pretty messed up.
There's this plumber, and this monster that looks like a mix between Jabba the Hutt and Christopher Walken (ONCE YOU SEE IT YOU CANNOT UNSEE IT -- CLICK WITH CAUTION) that vomits things into people and turns them into bloodthirsty republicans. Or something. Anyways, we watched this and we could not stop laughing. It was very entertaining...maybe because of the freaky resemblances or the fact that the plumber sucked at combat and constantly THREW AWAY EVERY BLASTED WEAPON HE POSSESSEDDDDDDD! *hiss* As if he were thinking, "I can't beat another zombie to death with a pipe! It might get monotonous!" So he minced around and screamed in every possible direction and you could swear while you were watching it that there were knowing, loving glances between Jabba the Walken and Jack the Plumber but they had to restrain everything (this is how we watch movies) and...then Jabba the Walken fatsploded and then...the end? Right before the fatsploding there was a kinky look between J the W and Jack the Plumber then Jack went, fatsploded him with a hatchet and stole a kiss with some blonde chick never introduced up until this point (as far as we know - we didn't see the beginning). "That's okay," he thought, "There's bimbos everywhere."
I also remember the running scenes. My mum commented that only the slowest died....and everyone died. There were too many freaky soocumber (sea cucumber word splurt made by me) limbs that J the W produced to slink them all back to his evil Physics lab of DOOM (OH yes, this was set in a high school)
It's like Craig Ferguson likes to say - sexy teenagers, beware.
But the un-sexy teenagers died. Oh well. (...Wait, were there any sexy teenagers? All I remember is the ugly one and the fatsploding and...no, no, there weren't. They were maybe just unlucky then. It's one thing to be unattractive - that's okay - but being bloodfatsploded on is just too much.) I remember the nerdy one broke her thumb, cried about it, then got slinked back to the Physics place of doom. She was one of the bloodthirsty zombies at one point, and got smashed in with a very freakin' useful pipe. Then it got thrown away :(
The moral of the story, kids, is that when you have a bitchy girl screaming at you in the whistle register in your car, you abandon her, get all plumber-gussied up, and you FIGHT. THOSE. ZOMBIE. BASTARDS. FATSPLOSION. BITCH.
Then, you can emigrate to the middle of nowhere, get pimped up in shaggy robes and fight all the other zombie bastards. I mean, Old Howard got his hand bitten off by one....they deserve to perish. (While we're on the subject of Old Howard, he had a bowtie. A bowtie! That adorable little coot. I adore him. Maybe as a result, I can't remember a thing he said in the movie. Oh, yeah, ThaReeza just told me - as we are both writing this, just to confuse you - that he said "Now that you've made me piss my goddamn pants, what can I do you for?" However, this is not nearly as cute as the bowtie.) (And suspenders!!) (Even as a kid in a 70-year-old flashback. Uncle with suspenders that were askew pinky nom nom nom.) (Shame, uncle, shame.) (Wait...I'm shaming him for his suspenders...and not attempting to eat his nephew's hand...which was, by the way, replaced by a perversely delightful hook later on...I'd better stop with the parentheses before I hurt myself...)
FAB. YOU. LUSSSSSSSUH. *sigh* Let's just say it was an eventful day (eeee rhyming lovelies) of funnies and wonders and J the W's. I think I won't be able to watch Star Wars nor ....anything with Chrisopher Walken again! But this may be a good thing. I mean, to visualize that ...thing, may not be the best image for those of the faint of heart, but the fact that there is such a monstrosity is probably all for the better.
Ladeedaadeedaa....what to say next? I have something to say! (The switching without announcing is going to be confusing. Oh, well.) Because pure randomness without any form or content was getting too hard to keep up (it was like eating a bowl of sauerkraut without anything else more substantial or less fun to say) we'll try to start doing these - more ranty things, more new fun verbs like fatsplode, things that we actually get ideas for. Instead of maybe SNAZZY LITTLE TOURISTS FLINGING HATS IN MY STEW ON A SLIGHTLY LESS RABID TUESDAY, though we certainly haven't grown out of that yet.
ThaReeza, being the artist that she is, was kind enough to illustrate our randomness. So it's not all gone. It's a side dish now.
Quotes of the day that came from all this: "You...threw a box. You threw a cardboard box. At a zombie?!!"
And, of course, "'That's okay,' he thought, 'There's bimbos everywhere.'"
P.S. this post, was in fact written by both ThaReeeza and j9‽ during different times. We switched more than what was said, but I hope you weren't too too confused.
*ahem*, Goodness. What a long time it's been since the last post. A YEAR? Well, as a "blogger" I have to say that maybe I should, you know, blog.
I've also wanted to rant to no one in particular but have it on the internet so someone could possible notice it.
So, today me and j9‽ were "ganging out" at my home (typo actually intended, folks) and watched one of the weirdest yet funniest movies we've seen in a while. Seriously, it's pretty messed up.
There's this plumber, and this monster that looks like a mix between Jabba the Hutt and Christopher Walken (ONCE YOU SEE IT YOU CANNOT UNSEE IT -- CLICK WITH CAUTION) that vomits things into people and turns them into bloodthirsty republicans. Or something. Anyways, we watched this and we could not stop laughing. It was very entertaining...maybe because of the freaky resemblances or the fact that the plumber sucked at combat and constantly THREW AWAY EVERY BLASTED WEAPON HE POSSESSEDDDDDDD! *hiss* As if he were thinking, "I can't beat another zombie to death with a pipe! It might get monotonous!" So he minced around and screamed in every possible direction and you could swear while you were watching it that there were knowing, loving glances between Jabba the Walken and Jack the Plumber but they had to restrain everything (this is how we watch movies) and...then Jabba the Walken fatsploded and then...the end? Right before the fatsploding there was a kinky look between J the W and Jack the Plumber then Jack went, fatsploded him with a hatchet and stole a kiss with some blonde chick never introduced up until this point (as far as we know - we didn't see the beginning). "That's okay," he thought, "There's bimbos everywhere."
I also remember the running scenes. My mum commented that only the slowest died....and everyone died. There were too many freaky soocumber (sea cucumber word splurt made by me) limbs that J the W produced to slink them all back to his evil Physics lab of DOOM (OH yes, this was set in a high school)
It's like Craig Ferguson likes to say - sexy teenagers, beware.
But the un-sexy teenagers died. Oh well. (...Wait, were there any sexy teenagers? All I remember is the ugly one and the fatsploding and...no, no, there weren't. They were maybe just unlucky then. It's one thing to be unattractive - that's okay - but being bloodfatsploded on is just too much.) I remember the nerdy one broke her thumb, cried about it, then got slinked back to the Physics place of doom. She was one of the bloodthirsty zombies at one point, and got smashed in with a very freakin' useful pipe. Then it got thrown away :(
The moral of the story, kids, is that when you have a bitchy girl screaming at you in the whistle register in your car, you abandon her, get all plumber-gussied up, and you FIGHT. THOSE. ZOMBIE. BASTARDS. FATSPLOSION. BITCH.
Then, you can emigrate to the middle of nowhere, get pimped up in shaggy robes and fight all the other zombie bastards. I mean, Old Howard got his hand bitten off by one....they deserve to perish. (While we're on the subject of Old Howard, he had a bowtie. A bowtie! That adorable little coot. I adore him. Maybe as a result, I can't remember a thing he said in the movie. Oh, yeah, ThaReeza just told me - as we are both writing this, just to confuse you - that he said "Now that you've made me piss my goddamn pants, what can I do you for?" However, this is not nearly as cute as the bowtie.) (And suspenders!!) (Even as a kid in a 70-year-old flashback. Uncle with suspenders that were askew pinky nom nom nom.) (Shame, uncle, shame.) (Wait...I'm shaming him for his suspenders...and not attempting to eat his nephew's hand...which was, by the way, replaced by a perversely delightful hook later on...I'd better stop with the parentheses before I hurt myself...)
FAB. YOU. LUSSSSSSSUH. *sigh* Let's just say it was an eventful day (eeee rhyming lovelies) of funnies and wonders and J the W's. I think I won't be able to watch Star Wars nor ....anything with Chrisopher Walken again! But this may be a good thing. I mean, to visualize that ...thing, may not be the best image for those of the faint of heart, but the fact that there is such a monstrosity is probably all for the better.
Ladeedaadeedaa....what to say next? I have something to say! (The switching without announcing is going to be confusing. Oh, well.) Because pure randomness without any form or content was getting too hard to keep up (it was like eating a bowl of sauerkraut without anything else more substantial or less fun to say) we'll try to start doing these - more ranty things, more new fun verbs like fatsplode, things that we actually get ideas for. Instead of maybe SNAZZY LITTLE TOURISTS FLINGING HATS IN MY STEW ON A SLIGHTLY LESS RABID TUESDAY, though we certainly haven't grown out of that yet.
ThaReeza, being the artist that she is, was kind enough to illustrate our randomness. So it's not all gone. It's a side dish now. Quotes of the day that came from all this: "You...threw a box. You threw a cardboard box. At a zombie?!!"
And, of course, "'That's okay,' he thought, 'There's bimbos everywhere.'"
P.S. this post, was in fact written by both ThaReeeza and j9‽ during different times. We switched more than what was said, but I hope you weren't too too confused.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Do broom elves get cowlicks?
Ahhh! Ahh! Ahhh! *gnaws cobwebs off of walls*
It's been ten months since either of us has touched this place. Ten months! I don't know what to say. It's just sad, yes, I know.
Well, I'll try to update more, but there are only so many random things that I can spew out without feeling like a rabid, dusty hamster.
Sorry for that imagery, albeit amusing...
Aaaaanyways. Happy Valentine's Day, for those of you who celebrate it, as it is tomorrow. As for me, though, I'm perfectly happy with trying to think up new blog material if I can find it in the dark, slightly emu-scented recesses of my head-located thinking blob. =F (fangs? Don't even know.)
It's been ten months since either of us has touched this place. Ten months! I don't know what to say. It's just sad, yes, I know.
Well, I'll try to update more, but there are only so many random things that I can spew out without feeling like a rabid, dusty hamster.
Sorry for that imagery, albeit amusing...
Aaaaanyways. Happy Valentine's Day, for those of you who celebrate it, as it is tomorrow. As for me, though, I'm perfectly happy with trying to think up new blog material if I can find it in the dark, slightly emu-scented recesses of my head-located thinking blob. =F (fangs? Don't even know.)
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
For the record, I love baby wombats.
There are many kinds of people in the world. Some of them are so intelligent they can tell you the difference between kicking something and moving it with your foot, while doing calculus with one hand and solving world hunger with the other.
Then...there are people like me. Well, I'm not like this all the time, but I did the most stupid thing I've ever done in my life last night, and I'm willing to share it with you here.
It all started with a malicious case of the hiccups. The hiccups themselves weren't quite so malicious as their intent was. Or however that works. So, like a good little girl who doesn't want to be jumping and shrieking and spasming all over the place, I went to the kitchen and got a cup.
There was a bottle so very innocently sitting on the counter, that said "Mango Nectar" on it. It was red and kind of thick, so I thought it was a concentrated blend or something like that of mangos and that. I smelled it, and the first thing that I thought was, "It smells like pizza sauce!" However, things like durian smell awful and (supposedly; this is the part I'm still sceptical about) taste good, so I tried it. I licked a drip in the glass, and it didn't taste like much, but I don't know why and I didn't give it any thought. I put a bit of the stuff in the mango nectar bottle into my glass - glop - with a bit of apple juice and a bit of orange juice. I had to mix in the "mango nectar" stuff with a spoon. At that point, I was expecting something extremely good, and hiccup-killing.
Sip.
IT WAS THE BLOOD OF A BABY WOMBAT. I RECOGNIZED THE TASTE IMMEDIATELY.
No, it wasn't. Getting back to what really happened...
EEWWWWW. I looked at the bottle as if it had just eaten my pillow. The hiccups weren't gone, though, and I didn't want to waste my drink, so I held my breath (same thing as holding your nose, minus the...well, minus the holding your nose part, but that's not the point - the important thing is that I couldn't taste it) and gulped the rest down after realizing that it still was gross after trying to dilute it with more juice and then some water.
I went to my mom afterwards and told her, "That mango nectar stuff is gross! Don't get it again! Ugh!"
She looked at me quizzically, and said, "We're out of mango nectar."
"Then what was in the mango nectar bottle?" (Panic, panic, panic)
At this point, she was trying not to laugh. TRYING not to laugh. "Janine, that was ketchup."
"...It didn't SAY 'ketchup' on it!"
Then, later when I was telling my dad, he looked at me funny and said, "Oh, I was wondering why there was ketchup at that bottom of the glass."
Am I moronic or moronic? Well, I guess I'm a kind of entertaining moron, but...boy, was it awful.
My pride, sanity, and IQ are probably all hitchhiking to Nashville to make a career in country music now, but I won't miss them. Bumpkins.
Let's celebrate! Full round of ketchup juice on me at my place!
Then...there are people like me. Well, I'm not like this all the time, but I did the most stupid thing I've ever done in my life last night, and I'm willing to share it with you here.
It all started with a malicious case of the hiccups. The hiccups themselves weren't quite so malicious as their intent was. Or however that works. So, like a good little girl who doesn't want to be jumping and shrieking and spasming all over the place, I went to the kitchen and got a cup.
There was a bottle so very innocently sitting on the counter, that said "Mango Nectar" on it. It was red and kind of thick, so I thought it was a concentrated blend or something like that of mangos and that. I smelled it, and the first thing that I thought was, "It smells like pizza sauce!" However, things like durian smell awful and (supposedly; this is the part I'm still sceptical about) taste good, so I tried it. I licked a drip in the glass, and it didn't taste like much, but I don't know why and I didn't give it any thought. I put a bit of the stuff in the mango nectar bottle into my glass - glop - with a bit of apple juice and a bit of orange juice. I had to mix in the "mango nectar" stuff with a spoon. At that point, I was expecting something extremely good, and hiccup-killing.
Sip.
IT WAS THE BLOOD OF A BABY WOMBAT. I RECOGNIZED THE TASTE IMMEDIATELY.
No, it wasn't. Getting back to what really happened...
EEWWWWW. I looked at the bottle as if it had just eaten my pillow. The hiccups weren't gone, though, and I didn't want to waste my drink, so I held my breath (same thing as holding your nose, minus the...well, minus the holding your nose part, but that's not the point - the important thing is that I couldn't taste it) and gulped the rest down after realizing that it still was gross after trying to dilute it with more juice and then some water.
I went to my mom afterwards and told her, "That mango nectar stuff is gross! Don't get it again! Ugh!"
She looked at me quizzically, and said, "We're out of mango nectar."
"Then what was in the mango nectar bottle?" (Panic, panic, panic)
At this point, she was trying not to laugh. TRYING not to laugh. "Janine, that was ketchup."
"...It didn't SAY 'ketchup' on it!"
Then, later when I was telling my dad, he looked at me funny and said, "Oh, I was wondering why there was ketchup at that bottom of the glass."
Am I moronic or moronic? Well, I guess I'm a kind of entertaining moron, but...boy, was it awful.
My pride, sanity, and IQ are probably all hitchhiking to Nashville to make a career in country music now, but I won't miss them. Bumpkins.
Let's celebrate! Full round of ketchup juice on me at my place!
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