...sloppy words and movie lines...

a new home.

2010-02-14T21:05:00.004-06:00

Thanks to the awesome amazing wonderful LiLu, my blog has a fancy new layout and a new home over at http://www.sloppywords.net . So, if you want to mosey on over there and check it out, maybe subscribe to the blog feed (http://www.sloppywords.net/feed/), or resubscribe with the Google Friend Connect thingamajig, then that would be awesome.

snow days, pancakes, and my eventual migration to wordpress.

2010-02-10T11:44:00.002-06:00

My Snow Day Morning.

4:45 am. Text from the school. All campuses are closed. Tweet my happiness. Go back to sleep.

5:23 am. Cat starts chewing on my hair. Ignore and fall back asleep.

6:14 am. Text from a coworker asking if library is closed. Reply back that even if it is open, the rest of the campus is closed, and I'm not going in. Now have a cat sitting on my stomach, staring at me and rubbing her cold wet snotty nose all over my arm. Ignore cat and resume sleep.

7:44 am. Boss calls to ask if I'm going into work. Tell her about the official campus text saying everything was closed. At least, I think that's what I told her. It's not the best idea for me to talk to anyone when I'm just waking up. God only knows what I told her. Hope I still have a job tomorrow. Decide that sleep is better than working about job.

8 am-10 am. Am awaken at various intervals by cat. Cat uses such tactics as chewing on hair, pawing at my face, snotty nose on my arms and face, meowing, sitting on my chest and meowing while pawing at my face.

10:03 am. Admit defeat. Get out of bed to feed cat. Annoyed to see food in her bowl. Give her more food then ponder my own breakfast choices.

10:07 am. Generic SlimFast is better for my waistline, but it's a snow day. Snow days clearly mean PANCAKES!!!!

10:59 am. Finish making pancakes. Try to figure out why in the hell it took me almost an hour to make fucking pancakes.

11:12 am. Pancakes gone.

11:13 am. I wanna throw up.

11:58 am. Did not throw up, but have spent the time watching a rerun of What Not to Wear. Wonder what Stacy and Clinton would want me to wear. Probably not as much plaid as I currently wear.

12 pm. Decide to move my blog over to WordPress. I really want to get an actual website of my own going. And not just for my blog, but as an outlet to sell my books. Because, lets face it, I'm an attention-seeking, wanna-be-money-making whore. Now am going to spend my day attempting all of that stuff. So, if you're reading this, be patient, and I'll give you an update once I've mosied on over to WordPress.

an apple a day makes me want to cry.

2010-02-06T22:26:00.005-06:00

How do I manage to fuck up everything that Mac creates?

Seriously. It's like I have this magical talent to screw up Apple products. Products that are supposed to be unscrewable.

I know unscrewable isn't a word, and is probably how must dudes feel about me, but let's just keep the lid tightly vacuumed-sealed on that can of worms right now.

First it was sophomore year when I got a crash course in Mac for an online magazine I was writing for. The instructor was all "Macs are the best computer because Steve Jobs has a penis made out of gold blah blah blah Macs never freeze up like Windows" which is about the time I got the Spinning Beach Ball of Doom on the computer I was using.

Being an avid Windows user (only because I'm too poor to purchase a MacBook), I gave the guy a How-Now-Brown-Cow look. He freaked out and was like "This never happens" to which I replied coolly, "Yeah, about that."

Fast-forward to the present and my THIRD attempt to download iTunes 9 to my computer because irrational, irresponsible me bought an iTouch today because people in WalMart made me angry enough to blow $295. And, just to make sure that none of my tax refund survives this weekend, I also bought an external hard drive because I have Windows and unlike greater-than-thou Macs, Windows crashes. A lot. And I have a lot of shit on this computer that I don't want to lose.

So, got my new iTouch, plug it into my computer, do a little dance because I'm six-year-old-with-a-new-bike-for-Christmas excited, and then my computer tells me to download iTunes 9. Fine. No big deal. I've been needing to do that for awhile anyway.

Three hours and a headache later, I'm on my THIRD download of the damn program since it refuses to install on my cheap ass, not a MacBook computer.

WHAT IN THE HELL DID I EVER DO TO YOU STEVE JOBS?!?!?!?

Update. Upon trying to install my third update of the damn iTunes 9, I get this message: "The application has failed to start because its side-by-side configuration is incorrect."

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?!

I'm taking the iPod back and getting a Zune.

are you there self-control? it's me, crystal.

2010-02-03T20:51:00.003-06:00

Every year, the library where I work partners up with the public library and holds a book sale to help fund events going on in the community. Being staff, this is the first year I participated in helping sit stuff up.

You guys. I bought 26 books.

26 mother-lovin' books.

I hear people talk about self-control, and I get the concept, but the execution is a little fuzzy for me. And I'm okay with that because I just got 26 books for 15 bucks, including the complete short stories of Hemingway, The Giving Tree (even if it is sexist), and Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret, which I have never read.

I know. How I ever survived elementary school is totally beyond me.

get the sensation.

2010-02-02T20:35:00.004-06:00

Oh God, y'all (I'm embracing my roots. I'm from the country, and I ~~like~~ tolerate it that way), I've had the dumbest week of my life.

And it's only Tuesday, for Neil's sake (I've totally upgraded from Pete, it's all about NPH, baby).

After a bat crazy hormonal Sunday and Monday, I'm finally back on track. Mostly. There's still some stuff to sort out, but I'm feeling more optimistic about things and have adapted that saying "what will be, will be", which I really hate. I'm far too impatient to just wait shit out. I like knowing. I'm an instant gratification fiend. That's why I can't keep to diets, exercise, or anything else that involves being healthy and giving up this bag of York peppermint patties that I've nearly cleaned out. Seriously, I will cut a bitch if they take away the deliciousness that is 140 CALORIES FOR 3 PIECES?!?!?!?!?!?! Holy Hannah in hightops.

York Peppermint Patties: Get the sensation (of the circulation being cut off to your legs because your jeans are way too tight after consuming York Peppermint Patties)

But the week is bound to get better. I'm working a book sale tomorrow for work, so that should be fun. Especially since I'll get almost first dibs on the books. And I've been itchin' to fill up my latest bookshelf/nightstand. Hello books, goodbye checking account.

And speaking of books and my money, my book is still available for purchase. It's right over there in the sidebar. Look at it. It's all purple and shiny and shit. You totally want one. Go ahead, buy one. You're only hurting yourself if you don't. Buy it, buy it, peer pressure, everyone's doing it, buy it, buy it.

Or not. It's fine. I'll still keep you around, regardless.

i'm probably going to hell.

2010-01-31T17:42:00.001-06:00

This is one of the worst things I've ever seen. And it's awful. Oh Lord, is it bad.

But it makes me laugh like a hyena. And I need to laugh today.

saving money is for the self-controlled.

2010-01-30T18:21:00.006-06:00

I have this thing about saving money...

I can't do it.

Seriously. I'm trying to save money for Europe next year because, hello, Greek boys. I did prefer Italian boys, but Jersey Shore has forever tarnished my view on Italian stallions. Eh, at this point, boys with accents that's not Redneck, Masshole, or Sarah Palin are okay in my book too.

And I've done decent on my savings. I have about enough for a nice little mini-vacay to New Orleans, complete with hotel, airfare, and one of those fishbowl drinks that will undoubtedly leave me with my head in a toilet at a Cajun restaurant with purple, green, and gold paint splashed on the walls, and I will mumble in between heaves that I must have offended the hoodoo community and this is how they get their revenge, and I will ignore the reality that is that I drank a fishbowl full of fucking booze in twenty minutes and then ate seafood because I thought it would be a good idea for the seafood to go live in its natural habitat of the contents of the said fishbowl I had consumed. Drunk me would totally think this way.

So, yeah. That's where I am now. In just a month or so, I'd have enough money to go back to New York. I could buy the ticket now and go in, like, April or May or whenever it isn't cold as balls up there, and I could actually do a bunch of irresponsible reckless shopping. Which is my favorite kind of shopping. Or I could go to California. Or DC. Or somewhere that isn't Kentucky and would totally blow up all my plans for Europe next year.

Must. Travel. Must. Spend. All. My. Money. Must. Not. Leave. A. Penny. Unspent.

snow storm, html, booze, and fyi the weatherman is a boob man

2010-01-27T20:13:00.005-06:00

They're calling for snow here and I seriously have my doubts about this (codename: The Susan Stance). Don't get me wrong, I hope it snows a foot, but I just can't agree with all the weather forecasters. The paranoid part of me thinks that meteorologists and the major grocery chains are in cahoots together. WalMart pays Chris Allen (our weatherman, who is definitely a boob man, as evident in the following YouTube video) an undisclosed amount of money and he threatens six inches of snow and tells the townsfolk that they best go stock up on milk and bread.

Yes, this is the guy that people in my town get their weather information from. No, he didn't do this on the air. Still, it's hilarious. And mildly offensive. Which only makes it more hilarious.

If it does turn out that I'm snowed in all weekend, I'm screwed because all I have to survive on is ramen and alcohol. Because, even though I graduated college last December, I can't give up the college kid diet. Mostly because my paycheck goes back to loans, bills, and clothes.... what? I'm a girl, I can't help it, and most everything I buy is on sale/clearance/so crazy cheap that I can't NOT buy it. (Hello green dress from Old Navy for $3.50. And the identical one in purple.)

To keep me busy during this snowed-in weekend is my goal to relearn HTML. Yes, I've gone full-fledged nuts. I fully intend to buy a domain sometime in the next month and my lovely roommate/bestie sent me an uber amount of links on HTML and CSS to help get me started on a site. So, yes, my weekend: snowed in, drunk on daiquiris, full of ramen, and editing HTML.

I am a party animal. Yow.

Also, if you know HTML/any sites that offer codes/templates free for the taking, please let me know. I will love you long time. But not in that way... unless the codes/templates are really swell.

the words don't work.

2010-01-25T21:19:00.003-06:00

Hey there, kiddos. I want to go ahead and type up an entry before my computer keyboard completely craps out on me like it did while ago. I've been having trouble with the 9 and 0 key. To make the symbols appear, I have to Mike Tyson-punch the keys. Just a few moments ago, when I was trying to type in my email password, the entire keyboard refused to work. All the punching in the world wouldn't help it.

After a quick hibernation of my computer, the keys are (obviously) working again. I have no idea what happened, but it may have sent me into a panic attack where I may have yelled out, "But I'm a writer!!!" and Tweeted from my cell phone the devastating news.

So, yes, tax refund is going to a new computer. Even though I love this one. I mean, I wrote my first novel on this bad boy. And it has my Hanson stickers on it (yes I have Hanson stickers, shut up, I'm a super cool person) as well as the Stephen Colbert Award for Literacy Excellence nominee sticker that I may or may not have swiped from a library book. In my defense, there was a whole page of stickers and Stephen Colbert expressed in the first pages of his book, I Am America (and So Can You), that the book should not be in libraries. I was just giving that library what for. Mr. Colbert would be proud, I think.

In other news, I think that I'm going to get my own little website. Mostly for my novel because I really, really, REALLY need a way to promote it more. But also a place to host my blog. And I feel like having my blog right there alongside the book will make people more apt to buy the book. If they see my writing style in my blog, they'll be like, "Wow, she's a super rad girl. I'm going to buy her book and recommend that all my mega gnarly friends buy a copy too because, hello, the author uses words like 'rad' and 'gnarly' in her scenarios."

The only problem with this is that I don't remember HTML from my website days in high school (enter Crystal the Mega High School dork here). Like, at all. And that's a damn shame because I knew it all: HTML, CSS, even a little Java. And now? Nothing. Zilch. Nada. I definitely can't afford to hire someone and I'm too cheap to buy DreamWeaver. What all this means is that I'm going to sweat, swear, and bawl my way through learning HTML again. Because I've lost my ever-lovin' mind.

To end this gibberish, let me pose a question: what do y'all like to see on semi-personal websites? Anything from flashy designs to guestbooks (do they even have guestbooks anymore?) to drop-down menus.

whoring out and what gary marshall has to do with that.

2010-01-20T20:43:00.005-06:00

All right, you guys, I am seriously running out of places to whore out my book. I've made so many Facebook status updates about it that my own mother is probably hiding me from her News Feed. Well, if my mom had Facebook, that is, then she totally would block me. The Twitter Fail Whale is going to explode if I link to CreateSpace and Amazon one more time. Even Blogger is shaking its head like, "Bitch, give it up already. This is a lost cause and no one is going to love your book, especially not Garry Marshall because we all know it's your dream to be part of a Garry Marshall film because you're a total weirdo who doesn't have normal dreams like solving world hunger or learning how to fly a plane."

But I can't give it up. That's why I've emailed Trashionista, ModCloth's account on GoodReads.com, and was just in the shower thinking about penning a letter to Ellen about how she should start her own fancy-schmancy book club (only one that has fun books because, really, there's enough sadness and suffering in the world, we don't need to read about it for entertainment purposes, Oprah) and how she should include my book in that club because, hello, it was my idea for her to start one. I get grandfathered in for being a clever S.O.B. I've also taken to CreateSpace's forums for shameless plugs. For eff's sake, I even posted a link to it on my 20sb.net page and on the Chick Lit Lover's group there because I have no self control over it at this point. Seriously. I need a twelve-step program or hours vegging out in front of the TV watching Clueless and National Treasure while eating popcorn dipped in salsa. Don't give me that look, it's the most fucking delicious thing you will ever put in your mouth (that's what she said).

If nothing else, my hometown's newspaper might run a story on me. And that's something. Especially since Jerry Bruckheimer (yeah, the Pirates of the Caribbean one) lives nearby. Yes, Jerry Bruckheimer set up shop in a small town in Kentucky. Rich people are ~~insane~~ eccentric. Maybe he'll open the newspaper one morning while munching on some Fiber One blueberry toaster pastries (oh my God, you guys, those things are so delicious, and thirty calories less than regular old Pop-Tarts, and you can make all the poop jokes you want, I don't care, I love these things), see this article about me and be all, "Holy shit! I've got to turn this book into a movie... somebody get me Garry Marshall on the phone, STAT!"

Hey, it could happen. Try a little optimism. Also, try these Fiber One pop-tarts.

Mmm... poop-tarts.

midnight margaritas.

2010-01-17T20:40:00.005-06:00

After referencing Practical Magic last night, today has been all about Midnight Margaritas (and Goodwill). Only thing about this is you can't buy booze on Sunday in Kentucky. A mention to cross the state line and go in to Tennessee had some merit, but it turns out that all you can buy there on Sundays is beer. Which is just stupid. Okay, Tennessee? That's a stupid law. I called RiteAid in town (it's not Sunday at midnight, after all) and they don't carry alcohol. In fact, the employee I talked to was really snooty about it. Just because I call a drugstore on the Sabbath asking questions about booze doesn't make me a bad person. So take your moral goodness and stick it where the sun doesn't shine, RiteAid.

The roommates and I just returned from a local bar near campus where we consumed a bacon and pineapple pizza and a beer. While enjoyable, I still pine for a margarita. And I realize that it's after midnight now and booze should be attainable at my local CVS Pharmacy, but I'm sleepy and ready to hit the hay and have sweet, sweet dreams of John Krasinski. Tomorrow though, oh tomorrow, we are celebrating Midday Margaritas. Starting at noon, we are going to drink. And, if we're able to find it on OnDemand, incorporate a Jersey Shore drinking game into this Midday Margarita madness.

You know, I'm not going to lie. I'm looking kind of forward to drinking in the afternoon.

I don't have a problem.

Also, if you look to your right, I've placed a little picture of my book cover and added links at the places where it's available for purchase. So, you know, if you wanted to, you could purchase it with just a few little clicks of the old mouse. Buy my book and you will get to see more pictures of my adorable cat, Emmy, such as this gem:

Doesn't she just make you want to purchase a silly chick lit novel from an unknown author?

emmy cat

2010-01-17T17:08:00.001-06:00

I have the cutest cat in the world. That is all.

how you can help.

2010-01-14T18:16:00.004-06:00

It's so easy to complain about the silly little things going on in my life, but this entry isn't about that. It's about others.

What happened in Haiti was a horrible, terrible thing. While I sit here and wonder about the future of late night TV, there are people dying beneath piles of rubble, and children who will never see their parents again, and lovers that are forever parted, and none of that is right. But we can help, whether we live in the US, Europe, or Antarctica.

Times are hard, and I get that, but if you can donate ten bucks, go for it. Here are some excellent organizations to start with:

Americares
American Red Cross
Doctors Without Borders
UNICEF

If you're low on funds, there's always the Greater Goods Network. Just by clicking a button, you can give a bowl of food to someone in need, help pay for mammograms, and even help out with animal rescue. This relief may not go to the people in Haiti, but it is going to someone in need. All of the sites, such as The Hunger Site, are also asking for donations to help the victims of the earthquake in Haiti. They also have an online store filled with some great gifts for yourself or someone you know, and the money goes to helping others. And that's a win-win for us all. I have buttons on the sidebar that link to the Greater Goods Network sites, by the way.

Also, I'm a firm believer that charity starts at home. Help out someone in need in your town if you can, even if it's just picking up a piece of paper off the ground and ~~throwing it away~~ recycling it or as cliche` as helping a little old lady across the street. It's like those commercials (which I really hate, but have a good message, regardless): Kindness, pass it on.

Take care of yourself. And the people around you. We're all in this together, you know.

general tso, we've got a good thing going.

2010-01-12T18:07:00.003-06:00

Craving General Tso's chicken and rice delivered right to my door sounded like a lovely dinner option. And really puts that going to the gym at 6 am tomorrow in perspective (yeah, 6am, color me crazy). Since my preferred Chinese restaurant is closed right now - they close during winter and summer break since there are so few students in town - I took a chance and called the other Chinese restaurant in town.

As an aside, it is ridiculous that I live in a city with only two Chinese restaurants that deliver.

So, I called and ordered some food (and a two-liter of Diet Coke, you know, just to be ironic), decided to watch Wedding Crashers instead of Ella Enchanted (shuddup, I like that movie, and Hugh Dancy is so pretty I want to cry), and burrow myself a nice little hole in the couch.

Some time goes by, the cat senses that food is on its way, and is at the door before I am when the delivery person arrives.

THE DELIVERY PERSON WAS THE CUTE BOY FROM NEW YEAR'S. THE ONE WHO OFFERED ME A RIDE HOME TWICE (I declined his offer because he was a stranger and, you know, my momma didn't raise no fool). THE CUTE BOY WITH THE NERDY GLASSES THAT MADE HIM CUTE ENOUGH TO MAKE ME WANT TO WRITE A PARAGRAPH IN ALL CAPS.

Let me just say that I'm glad I chose Wedding Crashers. I would not have been able to handle this if I had Ella Enchanted, what with the talking snake and Cary Elwes not looking like he did The Princess Bride, on the TV screen.

The conversation was kind of sad because 1) I was surprised, and that is not a time when I'm in best element and 2) I'm me so... yeah. As he was leaving, he told me to have a good dinner. I told him to do the same, then corrected myself, unless he hadn't had dinner yet then, in which case, I hope he has a good dinner.

Yes, I really did say all of that to him. Did I mention that I am unable to shut my mouth at times when I really should? After I babbled all of that, he may have invited me out to the bar tonight. I'm not really sure. We were talking across the parking lot and he said the name of one of the bars, but as a question. Like, do you go there often or, are you going there tonight?

Now I don't know what to do.

I mean, I'm not going out tonight. I can't, really. But, at the same time, this is all just weird. I mean, I see this guy on New Year's Eve - and I like to think that New Year's Eve is significant, in the same way I find Independence Day significant (sparkle and booze makes holidays significant for me) - then two times after that, just by sheer chance. And one time he's delivering Chinese food to my door? Come on. This is all just bizarre. In a super fun way.

I wonder where I'll see him next... if it's at a Hanson concert, I'm going to say it's meant to be.

guilt trip.

2010-01-11T18:04:00.004-06:00

Today has been shitty.
Last night sucked.
But my book is available for purchase at CreateSpace.com. It should be on Amazon in a few days. If you feel so compelled, you can buy a copy. I would pretty much love you forever if you did. And it would make my day better.

Buy Always the Last to Know here. It will make my day better.

Pretend that Puss in Boots asked you to buy this book. You can't resist that face.

all the single ladies, put your hands up.

2010-01-07T20:46:00.005-06:00

As much as I bitch and moan about being single, I'm starting to really appreciate my non-existent relationship status. So, while I sit here and listen to Hanson while devouring a Hershey's chocolate bar (the mysteries as to why I'm single? Solved, right there), I'm going to write out why I'm happy on my own, just so that when I get super PMS-y and sad, I can look back on this list and go "oh, yeah, that's why being single kicks ass.

Odds of me actually saying that are about as good as me not eating all this Hershey's bar.

Number 1. Shaving.
It has been eight days since I've shaved my legs. I know that's gross, but my little warped brain thinks that my extra leg hair is going to help keep me warm during these cold January days as I walk to work in the mornings. If I was with someone, I'd totally have to keep the leg hair under control. But as a single gal? Fuck it. It's just not worth it.

Number 2. My bed.
Sleeping diagonally across the bed is AMAZING. I discovered this New Year's Day when I fell asleep while watching the Looney Tunes marathon on Cartoon Network. Yes, I took a nap while watching cartoons; I am, essentially, a four-year-old. Now that I've discovered this new sleeping position, I'm having a hard time adjusting back to the normal way of sleeping which, for me, involves wrapping the blanket around me like a caterpillar does in its cocoon. But, trust me, I look nothing like a beautiful butterfly when I emerge from my blanket cocoon in the mornings.

Number 3. Boys.
I can look at boys and smile at them and drop all those subconscious body language techniques I've read about in Cosmo and not feel guilty about it. True that nothing happens with these boys (mostly because of Hanson and Hershey's), but, hey, it's not to dream and not be guilt-ridden.

Number 4. All those other reasons.
Okay, I'm struggling at this point and I don't want to use all those typical reasons why it's so great being single like "freedom to do what you want", which I think is bullshit. You should have your freedom because, really, not having freedom in a relationship? Yeah, that's called slavery. The only exception to this is if you're freeing things from your pants. That's called "cheating", and that is bullshit.

Having said all of that, if that cute boy with the nerdy glasses (that multiplied his cuteness by approximately a gazillion) from New Year's Eve ever asks me out, I'm not looking back.

hillbilly ovaries.

2010-01-05T19:40:00.004-06:00

Last night, I had cramps like no other. Seriously, it was like my ovaries were the Hatfields and the McCoys, and the Hatfield ovary had stolen the McCoy ovary's pig or something, and they were duking it out. Even Emmy, my very chubby and adorable cat, took pity on me and kneaded my abs with her paws before sitting on my stomach (it was like a massaging heat pad... I have the best cat in the world) as I was lying and writhing in pain around midnight.

Best cat in. the. WORLD.

Okay, maybe writhing in pain is an exaggeration, but whatever. I didn't feel good. Put the combination of my pain tolerance level (which is in the negative 60s) with the fact that I'm an only child, and a paper cut may as well be a gunshot wound.

I fought back today. I just finished my Winsor Pilates 20 minute workout DVD. I've always been told exercise helps cramps and, even though I always thought that was bullshit, I decided to give it a shot.

It turns out that I was right. Exercise doesn't relieve cramp pain. It just makes you forget about your hillbilly ovaries because your actual abs hurt so much more from "breathing into your powerhouse" and, you know, exerting energy.

So, from here on out, I think I'm just going to relieve cramp pain the old fashioned way: by eating Hershey's chocolate bars and telling the Always commercials that urge me to "Have a happy period. Always." to fuck off.

MMMbooze.

2010-01-03T18:32:00.005-06:00

There is a Hanson drinking game.

I don't know how this beauty of a game flew in under my radar because 1) I love Hanson, 2) I love booze, and 3) I'm fairly certain all my dreams would come true if the two were combined in some way.

Whatever the reason, I am glad to discover this gem of a game and fully intend on playing it as soon as possible.

Now, you have to be wondering, how do you play a Hanson drinking game, Crystal?

(Okay, you're probably not wondering, you probably don't even care, but I control the content that goes on this blog, stupid as it may be, so tough cookies, I'm telling you.)

Well, you need a few things.

1) Booze.
2) At least one other person because, hello, it's a game. And drinking alone is depressing, but playing a Hanson drinking game alone would probably end up in suicide over such a sad existence... which is why I'm really hoping Jessica, my Hanson-concert-partner-in-crime, is in town next weekend to play this ridiculous game. Otherwise, things ain't gonna end pretty for this blogger.
3) Hanson's 1997 home video, Tulsa, Tokyo, and the Middle of Nowhere. Which I own on VHS since I can't track down the DVD version of it, and is a large part of the reason I still own a VCR.

If the VHS box cover with its amazing graphics (which, really, are quite reminiscent of how my walls looked when I was eleven), here's one of the beauties of TTMON (oh, yeah, there are Hanson abbreviations out there... terrifying, isn't it?)

Now, the rules of this Hanson drinking game, which I swiped off the Hanson Livejournal community, are as follows:

-- Drink whenever Taylor sounds like a girl
-- Drink whenever Zac or Isaac do weird voices
-- Drink whenever Zac spazzes out
-- Drink whenever someone quotes the movie

I'm not entirely sure that anyone could make it through this movie alive while playing this game. Back in '97, Zac was one spazzy little motherfucker. And Isaac was a dork. And Taylor's voice was crack-a-lackin' like woah. Hello, alcohol poisoning.

the perfect movie credentials.

2010-01-02T22:17:00.006-06:00

I just Tweeted that Miss Congeniality is the perfect movie. I realize that I could catch some serious slack from that, but I have my reasons. Miss Congeniality has all the things that make a movie great: a makeover, shit that blows up, and a happy ending.

Now that I think about, makeovers, explosions, and happy endings are only part of the cocktail that makes a perfect movie. For a perfect movie, you need the following items, shaken, not stirred:

1 - A makeover.

It's superficial, I know, but so is Hollywood. The first that come to mind are The Princess Diaries and Pretty Woman, both stellar movies directed by Gary Marshall. The fact that Gary Marshall is awesome (if I ever become an actress, I want to star in a Gary Marshall film) makes it okay that these movies lack explosives.

Oh, yeah, there are amendments to these rules. I don't know what these amendments are until I make them up but, hey, one of the key features of the perfect movie is to keep the audience on their toes. The Perfect Movie Credentials (PMCs) should do the same.

2 - Explosives and/or Guns.

Yeah, that's right. Girls like movies where shit blows up. My favorite stuff blowing up movie? Independence Day. Which features many of the PMCs that will be mentioned, but no makeovers.

3 - A Happy Ending.

Duh.

4 - Keeps the Audience on Their Toes/Wanting More.

The rule to this is that, if you give the audience more in terms of a sequel, then it better not suck. That's right, I'm looking at you Harold & Kumar: Escape from Guantanamo Bay. I love Kal Penn and even I had trouble making my way through that movie. But the first movie kept audiences' attention and, if you're my friend Vinnie, on the movie theater floor laughing, despite makeovers and explosions.

5 - Music
This PMC gets subcategories because I'm the one making this list.
5a - Music in the form of a killer soundtrack.
-- This award would go to Juno, for a great soundtrack that's just too damn quirky not to like.
5b- Music in the form of spontaneous singing.
-- Grease. Obviously. And Grease has a makeover and a happy ending, though I can't forget how angry the ending of that movie made my grandma who thought it was wrong that Sandy changed herself for Danny. Clearly, my grandma was a smart lady.
5c - Music in the form of intentional singing.
-- Coal Miner's Daughter and Walk the Line fulfill this need. They also fulfill the need of being about artists that are listed in my "favorite music" on Facebook. Honorable mention in this PMC goes to The Wedding Singer and the song "Somebody Kill Me Please".

6 - Quotability.

Every movie needs at least one line. And maybe this is just me being a movie quote whore, but I like being able to hear a line from a movie and knowing immediately what movie it is. Things like "Now, that's what I call high-quality H2O" or "No Stairway? De-nied." It should be said that the quotes don't have to be poignant and meaningful, just memorable.

7 - Humor.

It doesn't have to be like The Hangover and have me laughing from start to finish, but every movie should have a few zingers because, otherwise, what's the point? Some of the best in this category are National Treasure (did you guys honestly think I would use the words "perfect" and "movie" in a blog entry and not include the words "National Treasure"?) and Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl. And I realize that these both are Disney/Jerry Bruckheimer babies as well as having less than wonderful sequels (I like to think that Pirates stopped after the first movie), but they're still able to throw in the funny without being stupid.

With these PMCs and me too lazy to write any more, I've concluded that the only perfect movie is Some Like It Hot.
And I know that there's some argument in that, especially since some people don't like Marilyn Monroe's acting (and even though I love Marilyn, she was horribly messed up during the filming of Some Like It Hot. So much so, in fact, that she had to read some lines off cue cards, and this did hurt her acting.), but it has all the PMCs:

Makeovers? Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon crossdress.
Explosions/Guns? Tony and Jack dress as women in order to hide out from the mob after they witness a murder. It's the mob, obviously there are guns.
A Happy Ending? Without giving anything away, yep.
Keep the Audience on Their Toes/Wanting More? Totally. Jack and Tony are hysterical.
Music? Marilyn Monroe is the singer in the all-woman band that Jack and Tony join.
Quotability? "Story of my life. I always get the fuzzy end of the lollipop." and "Well, nobody's perfect."
Humor? Jack Lemmon was hilarious when he wasn't dressed in drag. Him masquerading as a woman is just hysterical. And so is the movie. It's fantastic.

And, I feel better about this decision after just reading the trivia for the movie on imdb.com. The American Film Institution ranked it #1 in the 100 Funniest Movies and #14 on 100 Greatest Movies.

More than anything else, I think making this list means that I should work for the American Film Institution. I wonder how one would go about enlisting their services with that...

2010. let's do this.

2009-12-29T21:35:00.004-06:00

It's that time of year. Time to drink away the painful memories of being with our families over the holiday season. This is why the placed Christmas so close to New Year's you know, to give us an excuse to drink after all that family bonding and everything that went down while the Christmas tree was still up. I only hope you didn't have to hear about your family's sexcapades like this gal did. Ungh.

Now, before you go polishing off the fifths of vodka sitting around or emptying the fridge of beer in order to ring in the New Year as loudly and obnoxious as possible, I have to ask if you've got any New Year's resolutions. Especially creative ones. Creative ones are the most fun because, let's face it, nine out of ten people have "to lose weight" at the top of their list. Which is totally cool, and that's one of my resolutions too (only I'm phrasing it as "to become more healthy" so that I won't feel like a total heifer when I go to polish off those oatmeal cookies my grandma made me for Christmas the day after New Years), but I refuse to be an adult about my New Years' resolutions.

And, I know you didn't ask and that you probably don't care, but I'm sharing some of my resolutions with you anyway.

Resolution 1: To give up red meat.

Because, obviously, I'm insane and like an impossible task. I mean, I only live in Kentucky. Cows and chicken. That's what we eat here. My mother lives on a farm, for Pete's sake. And I have devoured many of the cows on that farm in the form of cheeseburgers and steaks over the years. I'm not saying that they weren't delicious, but, I don't know. I just end up feeling gross and greasy after eating burgers. I ate a Bacon Deluxe from Wendy's tonight for dinner. And while it was yummy, I don't think I'm going to miss it. I may slowly give up all meat and become a vegetarian. Except for chicken and turkey. Hey, it's not my fault that they're so damn tasty.

Resolution 2: To live out all of Taylor Swift's songs.

Just try and tell me that won't be fun. And I've already lived out all those unrequited love songs so, really, I'm halfway done. "Love Song" shouldn't be too difficult since, you know, I was an English major and can at least get my Shakespeare plays and Hawthorne stories straight, dammit.

Resolution 3: To get healthy.

The 30 Day Shred... which might end up killing me. Shit. 30 Day Shred+no red meat+cereal and fruit for lunch at work (which I will have no problem with because I LOVE cereal)=healthy. It's not much of a game plan, but when it comes to stuff like this, too much of a game plan will end up with me lying on the floor eating Cheetos at 3 in the morning and incoherently mumbling things about peppermint ice cream.

Mmm... Cheetos. I would probably give up a first born for some Cheetos right now. The puffy ones...with the artificial cheese bits that stick to the tips of your fingers. Why do I find those things so yummy? It sounds fucking disgusting.

Resolution 4: To see Hanson four more times in concert.

10 concerts by 2010. I've seen them 6 times live since October 12, 2000. And I'm so excited about how easily "10 in 2010" rolls off the tongue that I can't help but want to make this dream come true.

Resolution 5: To finish writing at least one more novel in 2010.

I've got 3 started. Surely to God I can finish one of those. Preferably "Always on the Run" since the first in the series, "Always the Last to Know", will be on e-bookshelves within a couple weeks. And, don't worry, I'll let you know when it's available to purchase. Trust me, you will know a million times and again. You will know so many times that other things that you know will fall out of your head and the only thing you will know is that your main goal in life is to buy my book.

Did I mention that I'm a shameless-plug whore? No?

Resolution 6: To try and save some friggin' money.

This one is almost laughable. I am the worst person with money. Ever. But I'm planning a trip to Europe in 2011 and I need to lose several, SEVERAL pounds to donate eggs so, really, being a frugal bitch is the only way I'm going to be able to finance that trip.

Yes, I really did look into donating eggs. You can make between $2,500 and $5000 for that. That would finance a trip to Europe. Hell, that's a fourth of my student loan bill, you guys. And there could be worse things than a Mini-Me running around the Earth and constantly bumping her head or stubbing her toes on things. But, alas, you have to be in a "healthy weight range" to donate eggs, which I am not. Largely in part to the aforementioned Cheetos. Oh, and because I'm really fucking lazy.

All right, it's your guys' turns. What are you resolutions?

Oh, and Happy New Year beautifuls!

liquid bar.

2009-12-13T01:36:00.002-06:00

Needing a fancy night out, Amber and I went to a fairly new club here in the BG called Fluid. Yes, Fluid because, you know, one word club names are oh-so-hip. This place though? I... I'm still having trouble trying to process it all. I think the best way is to share a text conversation I had with Jenn, whose roommate wants to go there. I strongly advise that they seek alternate plans because that place was just ridic.

Yes, it was so absurd, that I don't even give it the full spelling of ridiculous. I save full spellings for places that don't make me think that I'm tripping balls.

Me: My mouth is completely agape. No way can a place exist that is this ridic.
Jenn: Is it the classy females?
Me: First off, I am the tallest person here. Secondly, "Single Ladies" just started and 95% of the bar just cheered. I feel like I'm at a gay prom.
...
Me: I don't think anyone is going to believe me about this place. It is very real. Unfortunately.
Jenn: God sent you there for a reason tonight. You must tell your story. There will be many non-believers. But you must tell your story!
Me: I don't think God has anything to do with this place.

It's true about the tall thing. There were several instances when I looked around and was the tallest person there. Let the records show that I am only 5'6. That just isn't right. There was also a gentleman by the name of Creepy McCreeperson (although that's probably not what is on his birth certificate), a girl lacking underwear (she got low during "Low" and I saw more than I bargained for... also, she and her boyfriend were pretty much going at it at one point), and a group of guys from Colorado that had their spokesman come over to ask us if it was a gay bar. In his defense, the people there seemed very excited when a Lady Gaga song came on.

But, the height thing. Being in a room full of dudes where I'm the tallest one is my nightmare. Not that it matters since I'm like Mia before the makeover in The Princess Diaries.

"Somebody sat on me again"
- Mia, The Princess Diaries

Oh! And I saw a guido! Not being Italian-American or on Jersey Shore probably means I shouldn't use that term but I was just so damn giddy.

heart songs.

2009-12-08T21:27:00.005-06:00

I talked about the Weezer song "Heart Songs" and applied it to my movies ages ago in a blog entry that is right here. I said that someday, oh someday, I was going to post an entry of my actual heart songs. Since I can't think of a damn thing to write about, I'm going with that. Plus, Meagan and I were discussing our favorite songs at the bar the other night (I almost put "the other day" but decided against it since "day" makes me sound like an alcoholic. And I'm not an alcoholic, even if I'm getting through this week just because I know Friday is going to be a boozy good time.)

So, yeah. Heart songs. Here are mine:

1 - "Ain't No Sunshine", Bill Withers
This is in my top five favorite songs list, as well as in my heart songs list because you can have favorite songs and then you can have songs that speak to you and I swear that made sense when I was drinking over the weekend.

Anyway, "Ain't No Sunshine" is just an amazing song. A guy I had crushed on hardcore in high school (and middle school and elementary school.... hey, don't call me a quitter) used to sing this song. I remember clearly hearing him sing it one day as he was standing behind me in the ala carte line in the lunchroom. I didn't know the song, and his voice was far less than superb, but I liked it okay. Then I forgot about it. Until I heard a professional cover of the song by my boys. And it all clicked and, if it had been around then, I would have totally went "OMG!"

While I love my boys singing this song (as well as The Watson Twins... they done a beautiful cover of this song when I saw them opening for Ben Kweller in Nashville. If you haven't heard The Watson Twins, then your ears are missing out), Bill Withers' original version of the song will always be the one I hold the most dear.

2 - "Runaway Run", Hanson
This is what I was talking about earlier. I love this song, I think it's a fantastic song, but it's not in my top five favorites, but this song just makes me feel. And I know that sounds real hippy-dippy like (yeah, hippy-dippy), but I don't know how else to say it. It's not Hanson's best song (all those snickering and mumbling things about MMMBop, you can just shut your dirty mouth), but it's just one that I connect with. Connect with so much, that I considered getting various lyrics and/or sheet music from the song tattooed on me somewhere. In case my mother ever reads this: No Mom, I do not have Hanson lyrics tattooed anywhere on my person. My real love for this song just exploded all over the place after hearing a live acoustic version of the song.

3 - "Wild World", Cat Stevens
I guess this is where my hippy-dippyness (or is it dippiness? or something less stupid?) really comes into play because, really, Cat Stevens? It's kind of like "Runaway Run" and somehow manages to make whatever is going on make sense.

4 - "Have a Little Faith in Me", John Hiatt
This song tears at me and I have no real idea why. Every time I hear it, I just want to cry. And I know that makes no sense and I never have cried while listening to it (because I was raised believing that crying is a sign of weakness, which is total bull, but whatever, it takes a lot to make me cry... unless I'm menstrual, and then just thinking about that scene in The Notebook where Old Allie is looking out over the lake and says "I've never seen anything so beautiful", then Old Noah, who is looking at Old Allie, replies, "Neither have I." It kills me every time... which has only been, like, five times because, even though I own that movie, I never watch it because it makes me cry like a newborn with diaper rash), but the song hits me. Every.Single.Time. And I just want to bawl.

By the way, I hate that I referenced babies in my blog.

5 - Jump in the Line, Harry Belafonte
A song doesn't have to make you think or cause you to soul-search. It can just make you happy as hell and want to dance like you're drunk. And "Jump in the Line" does that. I just pray that no one ever sees me dancing to this song. It's real embarrassing. Like, "Someone-could-videotape-it-send-it-in-to-America's-Funniest-Home-videos-and-win-$10,000" embarrassing. But I think it's important to have a song that makes you turn loose like a wild goose. (If anyone knows what song that's from off the top of their head, I'll give you an invisible gold star for the day.)

That's it for today, but I want to throw in a few other noteworthy heart songs that are just as important as the ones above, but I didn't think of before I got too lazy.

Fernado, ABBA
Don't judge me. My inner gay man LOVES this song.

Thirteen, Big Star
This song is just fabulous and, unless you persuade me with your superior wit or humanitarianism, I judge you for not liking the song.

Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Barry White
It makes me happy. Simple enough.

Dust on the Bottle, David Lee Murphy
The songs takes me back to my roots. And the days of going to Brew Co and hearing Brent and Anthony play it.

Islands in the Stream, Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers
Only because it's my dream Karaoke duet. And your dream Karaoke duet is a default heart song.

happy holidays... buy me something shiny!

2009-12-02T20:42:00.004-06:00

Sorry for the serious hiatus. NaNoWriMo was vicious this year. And I barely finished the bloody thing, only to discover today that Meg Cabot's NaNoWriMo project (which is her next novel release) is super duper similar to my NaNo idea. I had a mini-fit since, you know, she's already published and everything, and I really thought that my NaNo idea might be my key. Granted, it needs a ton of work. Like, a complete rewriting and, you know, an actual plot. I'm annoyed that Meg Cabot and I had a very similar story, but kind of excited that our brains were working that much in sync since, you know, she's my author crush and everything.

But, I'm back now, and with a blog idea that I've been waiting to write since early November. Here it goes...

First off, I love Christmas. Don't get me wrong, Halloween is totally my favorite holiday, but I love the Christmas spirit that everyone gets into, even Sam Elliot as the apple farming father in Prancer. By the way, my mom has a total thing for Sam Elliot. I don't understand it. She says it's his voice. Ditto Kevin Costner. I've stopped asking questions at this point. I just don't understand. But, who I am to say anything? I'm an old perv who can't stop staring at Taylor Lautner's naked torso every time I see a New Moon commercial.

Right, back on track. Christmas is wonderful. There's hope and joy in the air, people want to help the less fortunate, chestnuts roasting on open fires (Smoky the Bear has some problems with this), and there's an endless amount of Christmas movies on the old boob-tube. Right now, for example, I'm watching National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation which is, by far, the best Christmas movie of all time. Snuggled into the commercial break of all these holly-jolly movies are jewelry ads. Every kiss begins with Kay...A diamond is forever...Buy her love this holiday season...Render her speechless this Christmas with this jeweled necklace with a five-digit price tag...

It's ridiculous. I don't know, maybe it isn't so crazy. I'm not one of those jewelry kind of gals. Save for my Tiffany&Co ring (which is a souvenir from New York and, hello, it's fucking Tiffany&Co... it's part of American pop culture; I HAD to get a piece of jewelry from there). Hell, I'm barely one of those brand name girls. With the exception of Steve Madden shoes but, honestly, how can I not be expected to love Steve Madden shoes when they look delicious as this?

Seriously, I just want to gobble them up.

I just don't get it. Are the bulk of the American women really like the ones in the jewelry commercials? They get all giggly and... stupid. I get that some of the rings in the commercials could be engagement rings and those reactions are acceptable. But the rest of them? No way. Those gifts aren't thought out. That's (expensive) shit you buy the day before Christmas that require just the minimum amount of thought, not even checking to make sure that the diamonds are blood-free.

But maybe I'm just a cynic. I'd rather have a cheap or handmade gift that means something to me instead of a generic necklace that costs a few thousand dollars. And I get that some guys aren't creative or whatever but, for Heaven's sakes boys, try. Unless you're with a girl who does like jewelry. Which I guess all those girls in commercials do. But still. Those commercials are setting the wrong examples and I do not approve.

At the same time, I don't know why I'm bitching about what couples give one another since I'm single.

...

Glad to be back blogging.

you drunk spelunk.

2009-11-12T13:47:00.004-06:00

Due to a massive outcry from the public, it is imperative that I update this blog.

(Okay, it was my roommate making a comment that I haven't updated this thing because of NaNoWriMo, not a massive outcry from the public. But this is my blog and I can exaggerate, or flat out lie, whenever I want over whatever I want so... put that in your back pocket.)

The NaNoWriMo is totally sucking. I mean, it's twelve days in and I still don't have a plot. I have an idea of whereabouts the real climatic scene will take place, but wasn't entirely sure it existed and asked about it via my Facebook status. This is where today's blog entry topic will come from.

Yeah, I have an actual topic. Feel free to be impressed.

For those who don't know, Kentucky has tons of caves. Mammoth Cave, for example, is the largest cave system in the world (or the country... or I could be making that up entirely; I've graduated college; doing research isn't important to me anymore) and it's all in Kentucky. I vaguely remembered a lady telling my class ghost stories in the fourth grade about a cave that ran beneath Bardstown and had an entry in the basement of the old courthouse, and I wanted to find out if this was true.

Enter a Facebook status asking for the help of my fellow Bardstownians to verify the existence of this cave.

I received a few answers. The most interesting reply was one that said that people from middle school would go there and drink.

Middle school? Really? Hell, I didn't realize that people drank in high school until my freshman year of college. I was initially outraged and saddened by the thought of middle schoolers out late at night drinking in a dark cave. Then, the more I thought about it, the more it cracked me up. A bunch of twelve-year-olds standing in a cave, drinking warm beer they stole out of the parents' fridge, and jumping at every little noise... Little drunk cavemen in Stone Cold Steve Austin shirts (because he was cool - not really - when I was in middle school) drinking Bud Lights by a pitiful little fire, being kept lit with copies of their older sister's Tiger Beat magazines and dreams. It's precious, really.

But, seriously. Drinking at such a young age is no laughing matter. Unless it's happening in a cave in Kentucky... because that's just way too ridiculous not to laugh at.

Tom: This never leaves the cave.
- Without a Paddle, 2004 (by the way, I love Matthew Lillard and I'm not ashamed to admit it)

weekend favorite

2009-11-08T13:36:00.003-06:00

Sorry for a serious lack of rambling around these parts. Between NaNoWriMo (which I'm only 6000 words behind on) and me being a lazy son of a bitch, I haven't had much time to write in this thing. But, look at me mixing things up right now.

All right, I got this new idea for Sunday posts. I'm going to post what my favorite part of the weekend was. Look at me being all positive and shit.

This weekend was especially good. I got to hang out with my good friend Trista who I haven't seen in over a year. But that wasn't my favorite part of the weekend. If you're reading this, sorry Trista, I still heart you though.

No, my favorite part of the weekend was yesterday when I was walking through the TJ Maxx parking lot. There was this man in overalls (and I have nothing against overalls, but it definitely adds an element to the story) getting into his old Dodge truck. He takes a glance at the car parked next to him, which is a Cube and I will say that they are one of the weirdest looking vehicles on the planet (sorry, PT Cruiser, you've just been one-upped) , gets out of his own truck and, with his thumbs in his overalls, walks to the back of the Cube to investigate what the hell kind of car it is, looks at the car for a few moments, shakes his head and gets back in his truck.

I know this doesn't seem like much, but it made me chuckle. Even now, I shake my head and smile when I think about it.

Okay, back to NaNoWriMo. I wonder if I can bust out 6000 words today.

I'll be needing some caffeine, stat.

my brain on nanowrimo.

2009-11-01T21:16:00.002-06:00

Remember those anti-drug commercials from back in the day with the egg being thrown against the wall to represent your brain on drugs.

That same commercial could work for NaNoWriMo participants.

My brain is yolk running out my ears right now. And it's only Day One.

So, since I can't think to write properly, here's my Halloween costume. Ignore the double chin. Also, because I look like a major fatty in my costume, you're only seeing a headshot. Oh, and a picture of my neck because the blood looked AWESOME. And, actually, I'm really proud of all my makeup, even if it did end up all cakey.

Okay, enough writing. I was a decapitated Marie Antoinette. Later on. By the way, expect my posts from the rest of the month to be like this.

I for real didn't halfass it this Halloween season.

happy birthday.

2009-10-22T21:10:00.003-05:00

When I was 11 years old, I committed four dates to memory:

March 14
May 6
October 22
November 17

There are a select number of people who will know what these dates are. If they're like me, they have found it impossible to un-learn what these dates are.

March 14 - Taylor Hanson's birthday
May 6 - Hanson Day (in Tulsa, Oklahoma... a mere 3 days after my birthday, mind you)
October 22 - Zac Hanson's birthday
November 17 - Isaac Hanson's birthday

I know. This is way embarrassing to admit. What's even more sad is that I don't even know my own dad's birthday. I mean, I know it's in July and somewhere between the 23 and 25, but as far as knowing the actual date? Forget about it. But you can bet your sweet potato that, upon seeing today's date, a little light bulb went off in my head and I said (to myself), "Zac Hanson is 24 today... why do I remember this, and how in the fuck did I get to be almost 24?" ... because I track my own age by celebrities, obviously.

Even though I've always loved my Hanson boys, I'm still shocked to see that little Zac went from this:

To this:

See what happens when you stick with something? You get results... tall, pretty results that pump out good songs and put on one hell of a good concert. And they try to do good things. I am embarrassed to know so many random, stupid, pointless facts about these guys, but I don't regret it one little bit. Because they keep my inner eleven-year-old alive. Even though I'm almost 24, I can listen to Middle of Nowhere and be as giddy as a kid.

So, Happy Birthday Zac Hanson. Thanks for keeping me young.

21 things.

2009-10-21T15:03:00.005-05:00

The other day, and this could have been any day for this happens a lot, Amber and I were complaining about our love lives because this is what girls do. Sorry guys, no sweaty pillow fights in skimpy pajamas. No, we bitch about things and then eat something greasy and/or deep-fried. This is the way of the Woman, and I am sorry to squash any dreams you might have ever had about us.

We have both realized that we have officially reached the age where things like previous marriages and kids can come into play when talking about guys in our age group. And that's terrifying. I then told her about this Alanis Morissette song (and I will someday be able to spell Alanis' last name right, with the proper amount of r's and t's without looking it up, so help me God) called "21 Things I Want in a Lover". I'm not a huge fan of this song but I've always liked the idea behind it. The gist of the song is that she has a list of, you guessed it, 21 things she wants in a lover.

I remember stealing this list and making my own a few years ago. And it was full of silly things that I'm too embarrassed to even discuss now. In my defense, I was young and foolish, okay? I was naive and gullible and just didn't play know better. These days though, that 21 things list has been narrowed down to just a few criticals...

1 - No kids. I cannot handle any baby-momma drama. Plus, I don't do well with kids. They don't get sarcasm and therefore we have no use for each other.
2 - No previous marriage... the verdict is still out on drunken Vegas weddings because, like Phoebe on Friends says, getting married in Vegas doesn't mean that you're married everywhere, just in Vegas.
3 - No drugs. I'm not against people doing drugs, but I just don't want to date someone who does. I know this makes me a hypocrite. And all I have to say to that is, duh. Yeah, duh. I just went 1994 on your ass. Tomorrow, I travel to 1991 when I make a comment about being gagged with a spoon.
4 - No smoking. It kinda grosses me out to kiss a guy who smokes. Plus there's that constant cigarette smell and I just can't handle it, okay?

Then there's the basics about how he can't be a smug arrogant bastard who is mean and kicks puppies. But, seriously, the things like him like Wedding Crashers as much as me and willing to let me win at a game of H.O.R.S.E. every now and then (not to mention to have a love for UK basketball but, come on, I live in Kentucky... most boys bleed blue here and I would never be so foolish as to like a UofL fan in the first place) have kind of been put on the back burner just because I really can't handle the thought of dating a guy who has a kid.

This growing up business sucks.

Robbie: I remember this one time we were flying to the Grand Canyon and I had never been there before and Linda had, so you would think that she would give me the window seat, but she didn't... and not that that's a big deal, you know. It's just that there were a lot of little things like that. I know that sounds stupid...

Julia: Not at all. I think it's the little things that count.
- The Wedding Singer, 1998

the cutest shoes in the world.

2009-10-19T19:51:00.004-05:00

I need a more interesting life. If not for myself, then for my blog.

Talk about a new low.

Seriously though, my life in the past few weeks has centered primarily around work and piecing together my Halloween costume. Oh, and trying to lose weight so that I don't look like a total heifer in my costume. Which, let me just share a little tale with y'all about Halloween costume sizing.

I got this cute little number at WalMart for my real Halloween costume (Marie Antoinette):

I got this at Goodwill for my work Halloween costume (Lucy):

They are (allegedly) the same size: 20.

Now, maybe I'm a little loco, but I think it's ridiculous that the Goodwill dress swallows me whole while I can barely breathe in the outfit from WalMart. Actually, when I do breathe in the one from WalMart the strings holding together the "corset" back rip a little. I'm still trying to figure out a way to prevent that from becoming a problem on Halloween after I've consumed a drink or seven. I solved the problem of the see-through too-short skirt by tracking down a slip and turning a pair of white leggings into faux-pantaloons.

I just want to know what in the hell type of measuring system the Halloween costume designers were using when sizing these costumes. I feel as if the dress from Goodwill is the correct size. At least, it's a lot damn closer than the costume from WalMart.

Oh, by the way, please ignore the avalanche of clothes in those pictures. I haven't done a respectable amount of laundry for a length of time that I'd rather not discuss. Also, let's not talk about how much time/money/energy I have exhausted in WalMart this Halloween season; it is, in the tradition of All Hallow's Eve, truly terrifying.

One thing WalMart didn't help me create (well, okay, I got the spray from there, and the bows came from the ugly tights in my Marie Antoinette costume, but the shoes are Kenneth Cole and the idea was all mine so, suck it, Walton) are my Marie Antoinette shoes that I want to wear everyday. Seriously, I want to wear them all the time. They are *that* cute. And, if you don't think so, then, in the words of Owen Wilson in Wedding Crashers, kindly leave.

who? me? couldn't be.

2009-10-12T20:14:00.002-05:00

I have writer's block. But just on stories. Oh never fear, I can ramble on about nothing in my blog forever. I know, what a relief, right? Since it is a Monday and since I never do anything shameful, I thought a "Not Me Monday" was in order.

As soon as I got to work this morning, I didn't go straight to my Thunderbird sent box to see if that email got sent to my department head. And I definitely didn't do a fist pump at my desk when I learned that it did get sent to my Hotmail account (why it never made it to that account remains a mystery). But, please? Dancing in office chair? Come on, I much too mature for that.

The day continued on and I didn't narc on anyone, eat a scrumptious cheesecake/crumb cake hybrid faster than Jon Gosselin embarrasses himself, or swoon over the blue-eyed boy at Moe's. And I most certainly did not check my receipt from Moe's once I got home to see if his name showed up on it, nor did I attempt to search the name on Facebook. I am not a creeper like that. I totally respect a person's privacy and didn't mumble profanities over all the flippin' private profiles.

...

You know, I think the "Not Me Mondays" were made to be cute. Leave it to me to turn them into a snarky monstrosity.

oops.

2009-10-10T21:23:00.002-05:00

On Friday, I had an idea for a story while I was at work and wanted to go ahead and get it on a Word document before I forgot it. It was less than a page, but I still wanted to email it to myself so I could add on to it over the weekend.

All well and good, right?

Well, it would be, but I sent it as an attachment to my Hotmail account, which begins with the letter 'c' and is saved in my email contacts on Thunderbird.

I also have the department head's email saved in my contacts. Her email also begins with the letter 'c'.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

I went to my Hotmail account today to download the page I wrote.

It's not there.

Fuck.

I haven't heard from the department head about this so maybe it just got stuck somewhere in the internet. That happens, right? Please, for the love of God, tell me it does. I do NOT want to have a conversation with the department head about this on Monday.

The only thing that really gets my mind off of this is watching the following video with the speakers on.

just call me a material girl.

2009-10-08T15:20:00.008-05:00

It turns out that, when I'm the only person in my unit, I think that I'm invisible to the rest of the floor I work on. Because I done quite the chair dance to "Beast of Burden" by The Rolling Stones earlier.

We won't discuss the jig I did to "Party in the USA".

Also, let's not discuss the fact that I cannot get enough of that song. It's catchy, all right? I can't help that I want to throw my hands up and nod my head like yeah whenever I hear it. It's almost like a reflex. Or a twitch. It's definitely annoying like a twitch.

Since the floor's been quiet all day - it's fall break, students are gone, faculty is gone, and the staff was at a free brunch this morning for 2 hours; since I am not real staff, I was not invited so, fuck you DUC - I done what I do best when I've reached the point of not being able to go through one more subject search (which, by the way, I'm pretty sure we have more subjects about fish than education): I looked at shoes and vacation deals.

Just try to look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't give up your first born for these boots. If I wasn't so afraid of buying shoes off the internet (not because of the ick factor, but because I don't want to pay money for something that won't fit my Sasquatch foot), these would be getting delivered first class to my door.

Okay, fine, they would be standard shipped. But they would be on my feet so fast that the Lysol I sprayed in them wouldn't be dry yet. Then that would get into my bloodstream through my feet and I would die. But I would enjoy them every second leading up to my untimely death.

I feel that I should stress that I'm really not that materialistic. I just happen to like pretty things. And, when I have the money, I like to buy things. And, sure, sometimes I like to look at my belongings and just sigh over how much I enjoy having them around (Meagan and Amber can both attest to this since they've seen me go through my DVDs to make sure they're in proper alphabetical order and how I get that far-off look in my eyes when flipping through the complete series of Friends).

But, in all seriousness, I value the things that money can't buy more than anything else in the world. Like family and friends (though they can be heavily persuaded by money and gifts, which is why I try to buy my family and friends' love... seriously, buying people shit is my 'love language'... I took the quiz to confirm it) and my cat, who is easily won over with turkey. It's family and friends (and your cat) that keep you going, that keep you sane, and that help keep your feet on the ground.

And, since I just placed a bid on those boots, the ground will be thankful it has such stylish shoes gracing it.

"They're my "I-Don't-Need-a-Job, I-Don't-Need-My-Parents, I-Got-Great-Boots" boots!"
- Rachel, Friends, Season One, Episode One: "Pilot"

(Many thanks to http://www.jenaniston for allowing the option to right-click and save this image to use for my blog)

it's the great weight, charlie brown

2009-10-05T21:47:00.004-05:00

You know what's sad? I rarely update this puppy. And what's odd is that I started putting together another blog that I will never update.

I might not even start it. Delete it before it gets out there because, like I told Amber, once I put it on the internet for God and everybody to see, then I actually have to stick with it. And my success rate with diets is not that stellar, which is quite obvious from my appearance. So, the weight loss blog? It's got a name and a profile, but that might be it.

Plus, I don't want you guys to know what I weigh. It's too depressing and, quite frankly, I haven't stepped on a scale in months because even I don't want to know what I weigh.

I've started eating healthier (okay, I started this on Friday and decided that Saturday and Sunday didn't really count because I was in Bardstown; things don't count in Bardstown) so, when my pants get loose, I'll step on a scale. Until then, forget it.

That's what my other blog was going to be about; my weight loss journey. But screw it. I can talk about that in here too. That way, I only have to put together one blog layout instead of two...

Not that I mind making layouts. I actually like having an excuse to dick around with PhotoPaint, even if the program is from 2000... I'm just now fully getting the hang of it.

In more fun (and major relief) news, I am 99% sure I am finished buying things for my Halloween costumes. Yes, I have two costumes since my real Halloween costume is not something I would be comfortable showing up to work in. Hell, it's not something I'm necessarily comfortable showing up anywhere in. Plus, it's itchy. So, a new costume was needed for the work party. And it's done. And my other costume is done. Now all I have to do is go get drunk.

...

Shit. NaNoWriMo starts the day after Halloween. Can I really be expected to crank out 1600+ words with a hangover?

the difference between a book deal and a rejection letter? lipstick.

2009-09-29T19:21:00.004-05:00

Most everyone knows about this already since I tend to broadcast every little event of my life out into the world via Facebook, Twitter (which I still haven't fully figured out the point of, by the way), or just from one of my outbursts, like the one I had today discovering the newest "author" to be published with Harper Collins:

"HARPER COLLINS IS PUBLISHING SARAH fucking PALIN'S BOOK WHILE AVON REJECTED ME?!?!?!"

The "fucking" is in lowercase since I was at work at didn't feel comfortable saying it loudly. Just consider it to come out sounding more like "fumcdging" since I also tried to muffle it and ended up sounding like Joe Pesci in Home Alone.

So, there's the news. I got my first rejection letter. Or, should I say, my first rejection email. I wasn't surprised or anything. I assumed Avon wouldn't want me since they're one of their most well-known publishers of romance fiction, but it still hurt.

I mean, would it have killed them to address the thing with "Dear Crystal" rather than "Dear Writer"? Of course, they apologized about the informality of the letter since they're so swapped with query letters.

Oh, I'm sorry, Avon. I hate that you're so busy killing authors' dreams that you can't bloody personalize a soul-crushing email.

Bastards.

Okay, they're probably not really bastards. But, I'm not sure since Avon falls under the Harper Collins umbrella, and Harper Collins is publishing Sexy Sarah's book. And I know that publishing companies take on the big names like Sarah Palin and Lauren Conrad (yes, I just grouped those two together and no, I don't think it's a far stretch... and that's not supposed to be complimentary for either person) for book deals partly because the money generated can be used to publish lesser known and new authors. I get that. I SO get that. However, I would be more likely to support it if they would publish this new author.

Or if they decided to publish someone other than Sarah Palin. Like, if they published Chelsea Handler's books, for example. Or if I became famous and they published my books... which would be fucking awesome. I choose that option.

cover letters and the one size fits all thong.

2009-09-27T15:13:00.004-05:00

I'm trying to write a cover letter for a job application. Well, I should say I was trying to write a cover letter for a job application. Turns out I don't have a very long attention span.

At least the resume is done. Well, mostly done. Sort of. And I still need two more references, and to ask the other reference if I can use her as a reference. Did I mention that this job application closes October 4? Eep.

Gah, this thing is miserable to write. It's so narcissistic and nothing but a page full of bragging. And I don't do that well! You who know me know that my self-esteem is in the garbage underneath rotten banana peels and leftover Chinese food. And, yes, I know how to do this job I'm applying for well, really well. But to go on and on and rave about how well I know it? That makes me hate myself a little inside. I mean, I'm going to write it. I have to.

But I'm not going to like it.

But I will say that I DO like involuntarily being on Victoria's Secret's mailing list to get on the sweet deals they offer. Seriously, if you're a girl, it's not a bad idea to get on Victoria's Secret's mailing list. Or if you're a dude who wants to buy his gal some skimpy undies. Or if you're a dude who just likes to wear skimpy undies (hey, who am I to judge?). In the past two months, I've received two coupons for free undies from Victoria's Secret with no purchase necessary, not to mention rebates and other discounts.

No purchase necessary. Come on, you guys. That means "free", which translates into "awesome".

The most recent free pair of undies are thongs. I'm not a fan of thongs in general, but you can bet that I am not about to turn down free anything. Especially not a free pair of panties that normally cost $16. That's just madness - both parts, the thought of rejecting them and them being sixteen bucks.

During yesterday's excursion to the mall (where I spent $60 total 0n a pair of Levi jeans, a jacket, two button-up shirts, and nine tank tops; feel free to be impressed), I went in to redeem the free thong. The over-courteous sales lady pointed me in the direction of a table full of thongs. I picked the color I wanted and went to look for my size but, and this totally threw me, they were all marked one-size-fits-all.

One size fits all. This is underwear, not a fucking scarf, Victoria's Secret.

I'm still completely baffled by this because, honestly, there's no way those things are truly "one size fits all". I trust you've seen their mannequins in shop windows - a pair of undies that fits those things that look like no actual human woman is not going to "fit all". I got my free pair anyway, just to see if they would really fit... and because they were free.

Well, they do fit. But, really, they're not "one size fits all". I mean, they're not going to fit everyone. And, I don't know, but I feel like some angry woman who has just had the last shred of her self-esteem tap-danced on by looking through a recent issue of Vogue with its stick-like models that have been airbrushed to pieces could roll up into Victoria's Secret, buy a pair of these so-called 'one size fits all' undies and go home to find that they don't fit. And, in a fit of rage, she could probably sue for false advertising... or kill people, but I like to think that no one out there would go on a killing spree over underwear. That would just be ridiculous. And can you imagine the headlines? Angry Woman Gets Her Panties in a Twist ... What's Up Her Butt? ... Woman Gets Cheeky with a Shotgun ... Boxers or Bullets? ...

Shit. Now I want someone to sue Victoria's Secret just so I can see these headlines come to life.

the great outdoors with the criminally insane

2009-09-23T22:12:00.005-05:00

I still haven't heard anything from any of the publishers I sent query letters to. And, okay, I only sent off submission letters to three publishers because I honestly don't have the energy to pull out Jeff Herman's Guide and work on actually MAILING out letters to publishers. I prefer email submissions; they're easier, save trees, and won't get lost in the mail like my rent check from this month (thanks again, Bank, for charging me $19.75 to stop that lost check).

I also thought that I would get a faster reply through email submission. This has not been the case. My theory is that since the unemployment rate is so high, all those people that said they were going to write a book, have lost their jobs and now have the time to write and are sending off submission letters and manuscripts and such. And they're probably the ones getting published. Which is great for them. Seriously. I'm way happy when other people get published and have their dreams come true. And, yes, I'm writing that to hopefully work up some karma brownie points. Plus, I watched, like, three hours of America's Funniest Home Videos today (I have no idea why) and laughed at people getting hurt, so I feel like I've made a major withdraw from my karma deposit and need to work on getting some credit back.

But I really am truly happy for dreams coming true for people who truly deserve it. And, if you've spent the time and energy to write a novel, then you deserve to have it published, even if it does suck.

Oh my God, someone publish me before I go crazy.

Oh, and speaking of crazy, have you all seen about the "criminally insane" (CNN's words, not mine; Fox News probably said he was a crazed liberal.. have I mentioned that I hate Fox News? Yes? Okay then.) guy in Washington state that ran away during a field trip with a group from a psychiatric hospital there?

Yes, they let criminally insane people go out on poorly supervised field trips in the wilderness of Washington. Like that's a good idea, like they won't escape... just because they're criminally insane doesn't mean that they're not spry motherfuckers. And I don't really know if the field trip was in the "wilderness of Washington" but in my mind, all of Washington looks like trees, rain, and vampires roaming around saving clumsy girls (clearly, I should live in Washington since I manage to hurt myself in new ways every day). Plus, it sounds better than saying that the field trip was through a flannel shirt factory or something lame like that.

Right, back on track. The criminally insane guy, because he is a spry motherfucker, escapes from the group. They find him so many hours/days later (I was only sort of listening to the news, so sue me) with a FUCKING SICKLE in tow.

A sickle, you guys. Do you know what those things look like? Imagine Captain Hook's hook on steroids and attached to the hand of a criminally insane man in the Washington wilderness.

+
=

Yeah, fuck that.

Seriously, how is this not a horror movie? I don't really watch horror movies and even I know that this has all the classic elements of a horror movie...

Actually, it reminds me of the story that Dan Aykroyd told his twin daughters in the movie The Great Outdoors after the Uncle Chet (played by the fabulous John Candy) scares them with his tale of The Bald-Headed Killer Bear.

"I know that a terrifying story like that coming from the mouth of a recognized authority figure could be traumatizing to kids like yourselves. I know that because I had a similar situation with my Uncle Roy and a story he used to tell about a family who went into the woods and was attacked by a band of escaped Army psycho patients, who’d been subjected to violent, hellish torture behavior modification experiments. It seems they escaped from the metal boxes the Army kept them in, found this family in the woods, fell upon them, slaughtered them and ate them. Well now that story gave me nightmares not to be believed. So, no more thinking about bears, all right?"
- Roman, The Great Outdoors, 1988

By God, I love this movie.

not me monday

2009-09-14T20:51:00.005-05:00

I tend to steal ideas from Shannon's blog, but I don't feel any shame in stealing the idea of "Not Me Monday" from here since she stole it from MckMama.

So, what didn't I do this fine Monday?

For one, the people who just rented the apartment above ours are unusually loud. They yell over their stupidly loud TV, they sing acapella when no one's around (after hearing what they sound like, I have also stopped singing in my own apartment when no one's around out of pure embarrassment), and, I'm not entirely sure about this, but I think they're practicing for the hurdle race in the Olympics. That, or the dropping stuff on the floor competition of the Olympics. If this is the case, then it sounds like I have some serious competition.

Anyway, last night around midnight, one of the tenants upstairs was having a phone conversation and I was able to hear every. single. word. He was also dropping something over and over again that sounded kind of like a baseball falling on hardwood floor that I happened to be buried under. Since I have to be at work early in the morning, I was trying to sleep. I definitely didn't wish that my pot smoking neighbors were still living up there. I would never approve of others doing illegal drugs just so I can get a little shut-eye.

The Bourbon Festival is coming up this weekend. For those of you not aware, the Bourbon Festival is a chance for Bardstownians to celebrate the lives created because of drunk one-night stands and to remember the lives ruined by alcoholism. Okay, that's not true... Well, it's mostly not true. Bardstown is known for its bourbon distilleries (Barton, Jim Beam, Heaven Hill, Four Roses, Maker's Mark, and so on and son on) and every September, the people of Bardstown gather behind St. Joseph Church, show off crafts, listen to the Kentucky Headhunters play (or, if you're like me, bitch about the Kentucky Headhunters playing because, really, they've played there for nearly the past ten years and why can't Bardstown get someone new? The Kentucky Headhunters bring out all the rednecks and I can't handle that), and drink in the Beer Garden. Yes, the Beer Garden is a hop and a skip away from St. Joseph's Church, the first Catholic cathedral built west of the Allegheny Mountains.

Have I mentioned that being Catholic rocks?

I definitely didn't entertain the idea of going to the Bourbon Festival and getting "drunk as shit"... and that isn't a direct quote because I would never ever even suggest the idea of drinking, especially not in mass quantities that would be termed as "binging" in college surveys.

At work today, two guys from the IT Department stopped by to install a computer for the new faculty member on our floor. Seeing as how guys my age are scarce on my floor, I definitely didn't ogle the hell out of the guys over the top of my computer screen like a creeper. Please. I have more taste and self control than that. And I didn't even think about trying to find out the guys' names by snooping around on IT's website. I'm definitely not that desperate, especially when it came to the guy with the gauged ears.

And, even more about how I'm not a creeper. Today, when I sat down to lunch and realized that I was facing my roommate's boyfriend's look-a-like (if her boyfriend had a Jew-fro, that is) I didn't even dream of the idea of taking a picture on my cell phone of him. I would never use technology to drive my point home.

Also, I am not watching Pride and Prejudice on Oxygen. I've seen it a million times and don't see any point in watching once again. I'm also not saying the lines in time with the movie. And I'm certainly not quoting the movie with a fake British accent.

Lastly, my roommate just asked if I would want to make a Steak n Shake run at 9:49 at night. I would never eat fattening foods like a strawberry shake and fries at this time of night. :)

Elizabeth: Did I just agree to dance with Mr. Darcy?
Charlotte: I dare say you will find him amiable.
Elizabeth: It would be most inconvenient since I have sworn to loathe him for all eternity.
- Pride and Prejudice, 2005

moral dilemmas

2009-09-13T17:02:00.008-05:00

I have decided what my moral dilemma of the year is.

Actually, I should say I've decided who my moral dilemma of the year is.

I present to you my Moral Dilemma of 2009: Mr. Taylor Lautner. He's 17. Seventeen, people. I am a gross old lady... but won't be come February 2010 when he becomes legal. I'll still feel like a gross old lady, but it will be legal for me to be a gross old lady.

Another moral dilemma, though not as bad as wanting to jump a minor's bones, is my new like of Diet Coke. I have never been a Diet Coke fan. It's always been Diet Pepsi or bust for this girl. But I'm sitting here, sipping a Diet Coke and watching Family Guy and, you know, it's not so bad. It's actually kind of fucking delicious.

The Diet Coke, not Family Guy. Family Guy is crude and hilarious, as always.

Over the past year or so, I've become sick of Diet Pepsi. You know how some people drink coffee to get them going on their work day? Well, I do that too. But with Diet Pepsi, because WKU refuses to sell Dr. Pepper on the campus, save for the overpriced convenient store. Yes, they suck. And now my taste buds are sick of Diet Pepsi, a beverage I once was sure my blood was made of.

I haven't totally sold out yet though. Diet Dr Pepper is still my number one love, but Diet Coke is tasting pretty good these days. And I hate myself for that.

But not as much as I hate myself for my third moral dilemma...

I've decided on my Halloween costume and decided that I needed to do something about my hair. I absolutely hate the cheap Halloween wigs. They smell bad, they feel weird, they're hot, and when you take them off, you have this red line across your forehead. I discovered some cheap hair extensions at Sally's and decided to try it out, just for my Halloween costume.

Oh my God. I love having hair extensions. The color is much too dark for my hair, which is intentional for my Halloween costume, but I really might invest in some good quality (read: stupidly expensive and marketed by Jessica Simpson) clip-in hair extensions.

Please don't judge me. I judge myself enough for this decision than anyone of you ever could. I just want long hair again. And anyone who knows me knows that my patience level is nonexistent. This is just a temporary solution until my hair gets the length I want it. Is that so wrong?

...

You're right. It's totally wrong. But I might just do it anyway.

stay golden!

2009-09-10T21:53:00.007-05:00

Check it out... I finally fiddled with my TOT graphic and brought it up to my standards which are, admittedly, quite below par. Don't be horribly surprised to see a new graphic in the near future... though I must say that I'm totally digging weather vanes right now. Nothing like the crazy shit Aunt Meg had in Twister that I can't find a screencap of at this very moment. It doesn't really matter; if you were alive in 1996, you saw Twister and you know about all those crazy metal death traps Aunt Meg had in her front yard.

Also, on a related note, if you search for the words in "twister screencap" in Google images, you're going to see a bunch of naked asses sticking up in the air. Just, you know, fair warning.

Thought One:
I'm still not over those metal weather vane things in Aunt Meg's yard. What would possess a person to put all those sharp metal pieces outside on display in the middle of Tornado-friggin-Valley? I'm just saying. Tornadoes...wind...flying metal that's been shaped to move easily through the air... she and her Metals of Doom probably decapitated half of Wakita when that tornado went through there.

Get out while you can.

Thought Two:
What happened to Nelly Furtado? I've been listening to her lately and though I lost a lot of respect for her when she sold out with that "Get Ur Freak On" remix and that album after Folklore, I miss her music.

Plus, I've been listening to that remix of "Get Ur Freak On" a lot lately. I can't help it, okay? It's catchier than the swine flu.

Thought Three:
It's too soon for (really stupid) swine flu jokes, isn't it?

Thought Four:
Wolf-whistling is impossible. This isn't a thought; it's an absolute fact. And anyone who can wolf whistle is a jackass because wolf-whistling is subjective and offensive and I spent more time than I'm willing to admit trying to wolf whistle using the tutorial found in October's Cosmo and all I managed to do was make my lips chapped.

Thought Five:
I realized last night that I watch almost two hours of The Golden Girls a day. It's not even intentional. I've started watching/listening to the 7 am airing while I'm getting ready for work, then tend to watch again at 10:30pm, I'm in bed by 11 during the week (because I'm turning into an old spinstress, what with The Golden Girls and having a cat and all), tend to watch at 11pm, then set my sleep timer on the TV for 30-60 minutes after that. So, that's at least 90 minutes of watching Blanche, Dorothy, Rose, and Sophia and all their crazy antics and witty banter.

I fully blame Hallmark for constantly showing reruns and having all day long Sunday marathons of The Golden Girls. But I will say, here and now, that lying in bed watching The Golden Girls marathon on a Sunday afternoon is the best way to cure a hangover caused from a Saturday night of boozing it up.

Now, if you'll excuse me. It's almost 10:30 and I need to watch a TV show I've already seen a million times.

Rose: I just had a thought.
Sophia, Dororthy, and Blanche: Congratulations.
- The Golden Girls

words to fox news

2009-09-09T19:56:00.002-05:00

When Obama was thanking Congress for being there and for the American public watching, I wanted him to, at that time, point a finger at the camera and say, "And to you, at Fox News, fuck you guys."

the soggy purples

2009-09-04T10:12:00.003-05:00

This week has been one of those weeks. It wasn't awful, but wasn't necessarily good either. It was a mix between the blues and the mean reds... the soggy purples.

Like I said, it hasn't been a bad week... but it hasn't been necessarily good either. It's just been a soggy purple kind of funk.

But, in different news, I co-interviewed a student for the assistant job in our department at work. I've never interviewed someone before and it's been five years since I've been interviewed. So, trying to be professional, I Googled (Google is way professional) questions and proper ways to interview a potential employee. I also asked one of the ladies I work with to be in the interview as well since she has hired students in the past.

It ended up kind of feeling like a 'good cop, bad cop' kind of thing. And I was the bad cop! I was asking questions about her application and the lady who was in the interview with me was explaining the job and what she would be doing as if we already hired her... which we pretty much had before she got there because of her experience and all that. But still. I felt like a bitch. And I'm not a bitch; I just bitch about things. There is a difference. It all ended well though, and the student was hired. And I added another bullet to my resume as an interviewer.

Despite all of that, I'm still feeling those soggy purples. I hope hanging out with my family this weekend will cure me of this funk. If not, then the soggy purples might be given a violent shove into the mean reds.

...

This is really starting to sound like some sort of pansy terror alert system, isn't it?

thoughts on thursday

2009-08-27T11:06:00.006-05:00

NOTE: Okay, I started this yesterday, got hit with my undiagnosed ADD and never finished this post. Since I'm too lazy/uncreative to think of something else to blog about, I'm posting what I wrote yesterday. Don't like it? Tough noogies.

It's Thursday and I have nothing real to report about anything. I guess the only way to make a real entry is to do another Thoughts on Thursday.

This would look better if I was on a computer that had more than a Paint program; just pretend it looks nicer.

Thought 1:
The other library, the one I don't work in, but the one that is still connected to the building that I do work in, is closing tomorrow at 1 because of electrical issues. How lame is that? If they get to go home at 1 on a Friday, then I should be able to as well. I mean, we're all working similar jobs, we're all on the same payroll...

Actually, that's not true. Since I'm 'full-time temporary, part-time hourly', I'm on a different payroll than the real faculty and staff. But still, those are just details that shouldn't affect me getting to go home early on a Friday afternoon.

Friday afternoon, people. That's, like, the best time to get off work and still be paid for it ever.

Thought 2:
I bet UK is glad they got rid of this guy before he went and pulled this stunt and had this lovely picture of himself taken:

Check out that handsome mug.

Thought 3:
I'm 89% sure that I'm getting a wrist tattoo. What am I getting? Why, a dorky literary tattoo of course!
The quote is from Mansfield Park by Jane Austen, and I think it will look lovely on my right wrist. I have some fears of getting inked in such a visible spot, but I'm pretty confident that it can be covered up with the bracelets I wear, or a watch, or, you know, long sleeves. Problem solved.

Plus, I really like the quote and I can't see it working as well in any other spot.

Thought 4:
My little cousins are trying out for America's Next Top Model tomorrow in Chicago. I am so excited and nervous for them. They're both gorgeous, smart great girls and they totally deserve an opportunity to shine. So, tomorrow, if you're hungover and lying on the couch watching reruns of ANTM on Oxygen, send some good thoughts their way.

Yes, that is exactly how I plan to spend my Saturday afternoon.

Thought 5:
Gah, this has been a shitty post. Maybe I can save it by throwing in a few movie lines?

Carol: Ray isn't coming out of his room until he resembles the man I married.
Art: Carol, we don't have that kind of time.
- The 'Burbs

Mr Shickadance: Ventura.
Ace: Yes, Satan? ... Oh, I'm sorry sir. You sounded like someone else.
- Ace Ventura, Pet Detective

Cassandra: There's only one reason Christian girls come down to the Planned Parenthood.
Roland: She's planting a pipe bomb?!
Cassandra: Okay, two reasons.
- Saved!

a talk with the universe.

2009-08-21T08:08:00.003-05:00

So my "Crystal, You Dumbass, Don't Buy That" list is slowly unraveling.

And, by slowly, I mean that I bought three seasons of television on DVD last night at Target because I have no fucking self control.

But, it was season six of The Golden Girls for nine dollars! You best believe that, if they had the other seasons in stock (which were all nine dollars as well, and the reason why they were sold out), I would have bought the whole series. I also purchased the first two seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer because, evidently, I want to make myself even more unattractive to the opposite sex and stay single forever. And, if that doesn't do the trick, I also bought oodles of scrapbooking supplies.

I swear, if I take up knitting, someone kill me.

As long as I don't go on a shopping spree these next two weekends, I should be able to get my savings account back on track. I was doing fine up until I got hit with a $200 pet deposit and a verbal lashing from the landlady on Monday.

This not spending money for the next two weeks should go well since I've just got approximately 20 publishers to contact/bribe/beg. I have to get published, you guys. I really believe that if you want something bad enough and if you try, then it will happen. And, maybe I should do what that book The Secret says to do and put what I want out there in the Universe.

Hey, Universe, I want to be a published author.

Okay, I've never read The Secret, but I'm pretty sure that was one of the steps. Another step probably says not to be a smart ass about the other steps.

Oh God, what if I had to give up sarcasm in order to get a book deal? Talk about Sophie's Choice...

why i hate the jonas brothers.

2009-08-20T07:54:00.004-05:00

Whenever I make some snide comment about The Jonas Brothers (which is a rather frequent occurrence), I am always asked, "Why you be hatin' on The JoBro, bitch?".

Sadly, none of my friends actually talk like that, but the question, however grammatically incorrect and offensive, is still there.

Why do I hate The Jonas Brothers?

The answer is simple: It's payback time.

Since I was eleven years old, my taste in music hasn't mattered. It hasn't mattered because my favorite band is Hanson, and "oh, they sing "MMMBop", what do those long-haired girls know about music?"

I have been facing prejudice since I was a wee little lassie because of my brother band. You would think that I would see the dark road The Jonas Brothers are heading down and would have pity on them. Oh, they're popular right now with their TV show and concert specials on the Disney channel, but that's going to change once their targeted demographic hits about sixteen. The JoBros will essentially fall off the map. They'll probably release a few albums and a handful of singles that will go unnoticed, except by the fans who are still sticking around because, well, that first love never really fades, does it? The band will perform at small venues and state fairs and occasionally be brought up in conversation, but only as a joke.

The same has happened with Hanson. With every album release after their first, Hanson has cause nothing more than a murmur in the music world. Oh, the albums get good reviews in obscure rock magazines, but sales aren't phenomenal and... have you heard "Great Divide" on the radio? I didn't think so. Not that radio play means a lot since most radio stations just play crap these days anyway. By the general public, Hanson isn't respected. Which is just bullshit beyond belief. Did you know that they broke their contract with their record label in order to make the music that they wanted to make?

Do you see The Jonas Brothers cutting Mickey Mouse's apron strings anytime soon? Because I sure as hell don't. And that's why I hate the comparison between Hanson and The Jonas Brothers. Hanson is a stronger group. Maybe, in ten years, I'll respect The Jonas Brothers for being talented musicians.

Right now, though? Not so much. I really don't think that they have the stones to be good musicians. And, if they do have the stones, then you best believe Disney has them in a vice grip.

My other reason for hating The Jonas Brothers? Well, it's simple really. I only have room in my heart for one brother band.

Oh, and these lyrics don't do anything for me either:

"You got moves, I've got shoes, let's go dancing
Pop and lock, battle dance against Hanson
If we lose, all the girls, they'll be laughing
Where would we be, if we couldn't dream?"

Fuck you, Jonas Brothers. Listen to how a real band does it without dropping names in a stupid ass way:

mr. brown shorts

2009-08-17T14:19:00.004-05:00

I think it's safe to say that this day has been a total waste.

Mr. Brown Shorts (my name for UPS) left a note on the apartment door Friday saying that there was a delivery for me, but I would have to sign for it. Since no one was home, the note said they would come back on Monday before 10:30. No big deal. I have a pretty good attendance record at work. They would be fine with me being a few hours late.

Besides, this is Mr. Brown Shorts, not The Cable Guy. I figured Mr. Brown Shorts would be here at 8, 8:30 at the latest, I would sign for my Psych winnings, and I would only be a hour late for work.

Oh, how optimistic I am.

It is currently 2:22, and Mr. Brown Shorts just arrived about thirty minutes ago. I admitted defeat and decided to forget work because, really, climbing the Hill for two hours of work just didn't seem worth it.

Plus, I'm pissed.

And, in the grand tradition of my bad moods, I've resulted to cleaning. It used to be that I would clean for only two reasons: 1) if I had a paper to write or test to study for and would take any diversion I could, and 2) when I'm annoyed.

Since I've graduated and don't have to write papers or take tests anymore, the only time I'm really driven to clean is when I'm annoyed about missing a day's pay to wait for Mr. Brown Shorts.

Not that I'm not grateful for what he brought me. I can't wait to wear my *FREE* tee-shirt that I *WON*. But, still. I'm a stickler about time. You can ask any of my friends. If you say 10:30, then you best mean 10:15.

Yeah, I'm one of those people. And I get it honest. My mom and grandpa are the same exact way. Although, over the years, my grandpa has got worse about it. If you ask him to be somewhere at 6, he'll be there at 4:30.

But, back to my cleaning-out-of-annoyance. I have the kitchen and bathroom in decent shape. They've seen better days, but, hey, Monk doesn't live here so I think it'll be okay for the time being. I started to clean my room and have temporarily surrendered to the mess. You see, I use cleaning as a diversion. And my diversion to cleaning is blogging. It's all very Circle of Life and whatnot.

Plus my room is disastrous. And I just don't know if I have the strength to conquer this mess.

I could read another book. That's what I did while waiting for Mr. Brown Shorts. Which makes me think that the day hasn't been a total waste. Granted, the book wasn't fabulous or anything, but filled the void that was left once The Golden Girls went off this morning. And Lord knows I have plenty of books left on my summer reading list. Say, fourteen or so.

Or, maybe I could work on my own books. I was actually writing on a first chapter yesterday. Maybe I can find that same inspiration... and end up like Blanche in this clip from The Golden Girls which sadly wasn't airing this morning:

writing and drinking, goes together like a horse and carriage

2009-08-12T18:25:00.006-05:00

It's been so long since I began writing a novel that I have forgotten how to.

Oh, sure. I have bits and pieces to five stories and one self-help book jotted down in notebooks and saved to Word files, but I don't have an actual start to any of them. And I started writing Always the Last to Know over two years ago.

My God, did I really spend over two years writing a book? I have GOT to get a boyfriend.

I'm a writer and I don't even know my own writing process! Do other people who write have this problem? I thought that my writing process was writing little snippets then throwing it all together later (which, admittedly, isn't much of a process) but, as it turns out, all I'm able to do is write snippets, freak out over the fact that I don't know how to turn them into a story, and then take to my blog that, like, five people read (please, God, tell me at least five people read this... if not, I'm going to the next step of writing and down those jell-o shots in the fridge this instant).

The story in question is the sequel to Always the Last to Know. I would really love to start writing my NaNoWriMo since I already have the first chapter outlined so in-depth that it's practically cheating, but since I can't start that until November 1, and since I haven't figured out what paranormal angle to take for another story or two, couple with the fact that the self-help book is a collaborative project that was started ages ago by people who still don't know that they're contributing chapters, but I refuse to give up on the idea, and the other story may fall apart since I don't even know if police can do that.

I probably wouldn't freak out about this as much if I had just read On Writing and Bird by Bird like I was supposed to for one of my undergrad classes. The purpose of those reading assignments is clear, now that I want to drown my woes in congealed liquor.

Oh well, at least I have my songwriting career to fall back on. Expect to hear "The Boy at the Peddler's Mall" on the radio next month. Until then, enjoy this little ditty by She & Him entitled "I Was Made for You":

Crystal, You Dumbass, Don't Buy That!

2009-08-07T13:13:00.004-05:00

I won a t-shirt, I won a t-shirt....

I will be ballin' in this shirt, you can't even deny it.

How did I win this shirt? Because I've been stalking Psych_USA's Twitter page for the past two days. I swear, I love free stuff so much. And, from the way it looks, I better start embracing the life of a freegan.

Okay, maybe not an actual freegan, because diving in dumpsters is icky, but I'll definitely stop buying tons of new clothes and Steve Madden shoes. Because I have to start paying $242 a month toward my student loans.

Eep.

I honestly have no idea how I'm going to do this. I'm going to start by making out a budget. Or, really, a "Crystal, You Dumbass, Don't Buy That!" List.

First thing on the CYDDBT! List is breakfast from Java City. Do I need a muffin and a Diet Pepsi? Don't those things totally rule each other out? Instead, I will actually get up when my alarm goes off, or at least closer to time it goes off, and will eat something at home. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day and I've read in various places, not just in Cosmo, that people who eat breakfast are generally thinner. I like being thinner. Or, I think I would like to be thinner. Never having been a thin person, I don't know what that would feel like.

Secondly, I will stop eating out so much. Crickey. That shit adds up real quick. I will still eat out occasionally because I really can't fend for myself in the kitchen outside of the realm of frozen dinners and spaghetti. But it's definitely going to have to slow up. And this way I will lose weight from not eating greasy cheeseburgers and munching on Lean Cuisines instead.

Craft supplies. Just... no. When you have an under-the-bed container ~~full~~ overflowing with stuff, it's time to stop. This is so ridiculous that I can't even make fun of it.

Number four is clothes. I have plenty of cute clothes. There is no need for me to go buy a new shirt for every time I go out to 3 Brothers. I mean, yeah, I enjoy shopping, a lot, and buying new shirts and dresses is so much fun, but I don't need those things. I can survive plenty well with what is in my closet now.

This goes double for my stupid collection of necklaces and earrings.

I would add books to this list, but I haven't bought books for a long time because I've been too broke to go on one of my half.com sprees... and my debit card barely makes it out of those things alive. Besides, I have a good collection of books that I haven't even read yet, including two Meg Cabots (yes, there are Meg Cabot books out there that I haven't read; it shocks me too), three Jane Austens, Dracula, Fight Club, and I'm itchin' to reread the quirkiness that is Georgia Nicholson's life.

And, finally, DVDs. This is going to hurt the most because I love my stories. And I love getting a good deal on movies and have a very difficult time passing up a sale. But, really, aside from, like, five movies, there's nothing that I'm absolutely dying to own right now. I can totally do this.

You will note that this list is void of alcohol. That should be a red flag that I have a problem. But it's not. It's just that my alcohol consumption is cheaper than all of these other things. The only thing it really, really costs me is my liver. And by the time that thing goes kaput, they'll be manufacturing them and practically giving them away.

Homer Knows Best...

psych out!

2009-08-06T14:01:00.003-05:00

Most of my friends have heard me gush about Psych at one point or another. Why? Because this show is amazing. And is totally bringing back the fist-bump.

Shawn and Gus bobble-heads, for your inner Dwight Schrute.

For those of you who have sadly missed out on these past three seasons, let me catch you up to speed. Shawn Spencer, with his attention to detail, killer memory, and stellar eyesight, poses as a psychic and, with the help of his buddy Gus, solves crimes with/for the Santa Barbara Police Department.

It's kind of like The Mentalist. Only Psych came first. And is funnier. And has an awesome cast. Sorry Simon Baker.

I've been with this show almost since the beginning and will forgo my Friday night plans (shut up, some people out there may not know that I lack a social life) to stay in just to see what kind of pop cultural references these guys will come up with that I may or may not get.

And, because I've totally ran out of steam, be sure to watch Psych this Friday, 10pm EST/9pm CST on USA.

thoughts on tuesday

2009-08-04T08:04:00.010-05:00

The main program we use at work is down this week for maintenance and I have a lot time to think when, really, I should be learning how to spell the word 'maintenance' without the use of a spellchecker.

And, taking a note from Shannon, I'm going to make some snazzy alliterative theme for this entry. Like her 'Things I Love Thursday' or 'Not Me Monday', this is going to be 'Thoughts On Tuesday'.

***Let's pretend that there's a really nice graphic right here to go along with this blog entry. When I get home today, I'll make one, I promise. ***

Thought Numero Uno:
Why has no one given Gary Busey his own reality show yet? Who would not watch that shit go down? Ratings will be astronomical if someone just followed Gary Busey around 24/7. Better yet, just give him his own station. GBTV: All Gary, All Crazy, All the Time. When he's sleeping or something, they can show movies like Rookie of the Year and Lethal Weapon. Scoff all you want, but you know that you love Rookie of the Year.

Henry: Pitcher's got a big butt, pitcher's got a big butt!
Rookie of the Year

Now, be honest, don't you want to turn your TV on in the middle of the night to see that face screaming back at you?

Thought Numero Dos:
I saw a hawk on campus this morning. At least, I think it was a hawk. I'm not exactly an expert woodsman or bird picker-outer or anything, but I'm pretty sure it was a hawk, and the Google image search I just done mostly confirms that. This thing was a fucking beast. It was walking around on the ground and I guarantee that thing came up past my knee. Being so large, you would think that the hawk wouldn't have been scared off by three black birds, which brings me to my thought... why are there so many black birds on this campus? It's like living in an omen. Seriously, it's made me totally paranoid that something bad is going to happen any minute. Like a bird pooing on me or something.

Thought Numero Tres:
Why am I counting these thoughts off in Espanol?

Thought Numero Cuatro:
Why does a cabin that has a heart-shaped jacuzzi one of the few that can be rented by people under the age of 25, but the other cabins without heart-shaped jacuzzis require you to be at least 25? Not that I object; I'm actually excited about staying at a place that has a heart-shaped jacuzzi just because I didn't think those kinds of things actually existed in the real world. Plus, it makes me laugh. A lot. I mean, look at it!

Thought Numero Cinco:
Oh my God, I really did post a picture of Gary Busey and a picture of a heart- shaped jacuzzi in the same entry. This cannot mean good things.

you shut your mouth when you're talking to me

2009-08-02T21:50:00.005-05:00

I am never drinking again until I drink again.

My headache caused by last night's festivities which resulted in my decision to walk home barefoot in the rain through the ghetto, only ceased a few hours ago. Ditto the horrible feeling of nausea.

My feet, aside from the ghastly blisters on my heels, are fine. I think. The ghetto sidewalks seemed surprisingly clean for a Saturday night. But that could have been because I never got a good look at the ground since I was drunk and trying to text someone while carrying an umbrella. Needless to say, I got rained on. A lot.

I woke up this morning to discover that I had totally crashed mid-text conversation. Oops. I've spent the rest of my day on the couch watching Friends, sleeping, trying to keep down food, then watching Legally Blonde and the bulk of The 40-Year-Old Virgin on TV and pined over Luke Wilson and Paul Rudd, as is my nature. Actually, I prefer Owen to Luke, which is weird since I tend to like dark haired, dark eyed guys and Owen is blond with blue eyes. And he's in Wedding Crashers, which is one of my favorite movies...

Don't judge me. I love Wedding Crashers. Oh, and in imdbing Owen Wilson, I just discovered that they're making another Meet the Parents installment. This one is called Little Fockers. No, I am not kidding. Also, I'm kind of excited about it. I've missed Owen Wilson being in funny movies.

Jeremy: Have you even shot one of these things before?
John: The whole 17 years we've known each other I've been sneaking off to go on little hunting trips around the world. No, I don't even know what the fuck a quail is.
- Wedding Crashers

To end this mad rambling on a good note, let's throw in another picture of Owen Wilson, just for good measure.

here comes the crazy

2009-07-29T19:40:00.007-05:00

First things first. I am not obsessed with getting married. I actually hate going to weddings and think that they're a huge waste of money. Plus, I know that if I ever get married, I will turn into the biggest Bridezilla control freak bitch to ever walk the earth and I don't want to unleash that monster out on anyone.

Having said all of this, I am obsessed with looking at wedding photos. And I really think that this
is the cutest fucking thing ever.

In my defense, I wasn't actively searching for wedding photos. I'm kind of a creeper but give me some credit. StumbleUpon sent me to that website several months ago and I thought it was adorable and, after watching an episode of Say Yes to the Dress today, I decided to dredge up the site to admire the quirkiness that this couple has. Not one little bit of that wedding was traditional. And I love it.

Then there are the times that I go through my Facebook "friends" wedding photo albums and critique certain aspects of their wedding because I'm a bitch. And it should be said that I have some friends on Facebook that I truly dislike. Think of The Grinch going through the phone book hating the Whos alphabetically in Ron Howard's How the Grinch Stole Christmas:

"Hate. Hate. Hate. Double hate. Loathe entirely."

But, generally, I like my Facebook friends. And I only judge the wedding photos of the people I don't like. Mostly because I'm certain that I could do a better job put to the task, and probably with a smaller budget... and not because my bias is getting in the way, but because I'm a crafty, not to mention frugal, little bitch.

This is why I think I could be a wedding planner. Putting together a wedding is difficult. Putting together a good wedding is damn near impossible without professional help. Putting together a good wedding with money left over is something that only I can do. Seriously, I think I'm going to become a wedding planner for those ballin' on a budget.

Yes, this idea really did just come to me. Not becoming a wedding planner, but becoming one that works exclusively with couples trying to have a beautiful wedding but not shelling out thousands and thousands of dollars. I mean, there are tons and tons of websites that offer tips and tricks to save money on weddings but having someone know ALL of those things and being able to work face-to-face with the bride and groom and giving them the information straight up and offering ways to help out on their big day. How much more special would the day feel if they knew that they had put it together themselves and how much money was saved in the process?

Come on, we're living in tough times. The last thing anyone wants to worry about is an astronomical wedding bill.

Okay, maybe that's not the last thing someone really wants to worry about, but still. Let me live in my little dream world.

And I realize that I couldn't charge a lot at No-Nonsense Nuptials (yes, I gave my fake company a name, and you can't judge me because you've read this ridiculousness up to at least this point) because, really, the whole point of it is to save the bride and groom money. That's why I could also offer my creative services at additional small fees that would cost a ton anywhere else, or be too time consuming for the bride and groom to do because, let's be serious, they're getting married, they don't have time to make roses out of crepe paper for a centerpiece to go at Table 9, where the groom's uncle Marty, who suffers from severe allergies, is going to sit.

I think this is a good idea. I have no idea how to get started. Which is why I think should hire a life planner. Do they make those? Are they cheap to hire? Could I perhaps create this career as well and incorporate it into No-Nonsense Nuptials as like a type of pre-wedding counseling? If so, the life planner will have to come up with his own clever name that will need to be whimsical and full of alliteration.

And I feel it needs to be said again: I am not obsessed with getting married. And I do hate going to weddings, but I think if I went to a wedding tha I was able to help with and even save the bride and groom money, then I would really enjoy it. And so would everyone else.

o canada, we stand on guard for thee... as long as you give me a book deal

2009-07-21T21:24:00.005-05:00

I sent out my very first query letter today.

It kind of made me want to throw up a little bit. And, until I get a reply (read: rejection), every time I see that little envelope at the bottom of my work computer, it's going to feel like someone's punched me in the gut.

After I get that email, which I'm going to assume will be a rejection because, really, what are the odds of me sending out only one query letter and getting a positive response back? Not to mention that I sent the letter to my dream publishing company. Yeah, once I get that rejection back, then I'm going to mass email/mail query letters to every publishing company in the United States. And maybe Canada.

I think they would like me in Canada. I mean, I like maple syrup and I know some of their national anthem, thanks largely in part to that episode of That 70's Show where the boys are trying to bring a Vista Cruiser's worth of beer into the US and get stopped by the Mounties.

Now no one can say that me watching hours of mind-numbing TV has never taught me anything or not done me any favors. It may very well indeed get me a book deal in Canada.

Fez: just wish that there was someplace in the world where prejudice didn't exist.
Kelso: Well, that's Canada... Yup, good ol' Canada. They don't make generalizations about people because they're too busy playin' hockey or gettin' drunk or puttin' maple syrup on their ham.
- That 70's Show

Remind me that, if I get a book deal with a Canadian publisher, it would be a good idea to delete this blog entry.

jello shots and bathroom shelves

2009-07-17T22:01:00.007-05:00

I put together a bathroom shelf to go over the toilet today and, for whatever stupid reason, I decided to photo-document it all. Ready for a bunch of stupid pictures? Great, let's go!

1 - This is what it's supposed to look like once it's finished:

Now, isn't that nice? You know what's especially nice? That WalMart doesn't take into consideration the fact that not everyone has all that open space around their toilet that's shown in the picture. Yes, this will come back later.

2 - I got all my supplies in order:

- the contents of the box, screwdriver, and an actual hammer that replaced the Dream Hammer... which, for those of you not living in my apartment, is a dream dictionary that we used as a hammer up until a few months ago when a real hammer was purchased

- the first season of Psych playing on the telly. Shawn Spencer = love. And, as a random aside, the writers of this show replied to me on Twitter today. Granted, I replied to one of their tweets first, but still. It was very nice of them to acknowledge me. I should have tweeted them asking for a writing job with them.

- my Rosie the Riveter persona. Maybe I can go by Crystal the Carpenter?

3 - Decided that having a wee little drink beforehand was a good idea. And Meagan had made black cherry jello shots (using black cherry vodka, no less) last night. They. Are. AWESOME.

- plus, I assumed that I would injure myself in some fashion and alcohol would make it not hurt as bad.

4 - Began assembling the bottom half of the shelf. Turns out that I only needed to use one of those bars in the middle. The directions didn't clarify that until I went to put the support bar at the bottom and didn't have one.

5 - About people not having wide open bathrooms in that earlier step? Yeah, we don't have one of those which made getting that bottom support bar on really fucking difficult.

- I ended up taking the top off the commode and removing something from the bowl to attach the bar to the shelf.

6 - The top half of the shelf is getting started. Now, I ask you, isn't that a handsome top part of a bathroom shelf?

- The answer is yes, yes it is.

7 - Still annoyed with the bottom bar (and WalMart, in general) that goes behind the toilet. Decide to take another jello shot.

8 - Then decide to have a mini-dance party because I'm sure that's how the professionals do it.

9 - Emmy then decided that she needed to guard the back panel from the forces of evil.

- In LOLCat speak, she iz duin it rite.

10 - But all that guarding made her really sleepy...

11 - The top half of the bathroom shelf in it's completion! It only took me two full episodes of Psych to complete. You see, in my world, I measure time by TV shows. A summer work day, for example, is 14 episodes of Friends.

12 - The bathroom shelf done and actually standing up in the bathroom!

- The hardest part to put together was this little strappy thing at the top that goes into the shelf and also into the wall so that the shelf won't fall in on you while you're doing your business. That seriously took me more time than I care to admit installing. Plus, I was in one of the rickety kitchen chairs and, you know, I'm not tiny by any means. I was certain that the chair was going to give way and I was going to fall, hit my head on the vanity, and have Meagan find me the next day bleeding from the head and not knowing my own name. I was equally afraid of all that happening only, instead of having amnesia, I was afraid that I would wake up dead.

13 - I was so proud of my work and not hurting myself in any way, shape, or form, that I decided to treat myself with one last jello shot.

And that, bloggers, is how you put a bathroom shelf together.

tonight!

2009-07-17T14:14:00.004-05:00

I've decided to do a photo blog tonight of me putting together a shelf for the bathroom. Why? Because it will be hilarious.

And I will probably hurt myself in some way and photographic evidence will help me win bunches of money when I sue the company that manufactured the shelf.

Stay tuned.

Jill:Don't you think you ought to go to the emergency room?
Tim: I was just there; they said I wasn't a "priority."
Jill: Why, was there a guy with a whole table stuck to his head?

- Home Improvement

potty mouth

2009-07-14T14:28:00.005-05:00

I'm conflicted in writing this entry because it's just out of my comfort zone to talk about, but I think that this is a topic that needs to be addressed. Not necessarily political or controversial, but important and opinions vary from person to person.

What I'm talking about is conversing in the restroom.

I will go ahead and say that I am opposed to talking to people while they or myself are taking care of business. And I don't know whether I admire or judge the people who have no problem chit-chatting while in the loo.

Those who are for it say, "Well, we all use the restroom. May as well be friendly about." (Okay, I don't know anyone who would actually say those words exactly, but just go with it.) And I'm not even going to get started on people going into a one-toilet bathroom together. I don't care how long you've been friends, that restroom at Tidball's barely fits one person comfortably. The thought of two people in there at once is just gross.

Honestly, I don't know how guys handle urinals, all out there in the open and so close to each other. No way in Hell. I would pity them but they get to pee standing up which makes me not feel sorry for them at all.

Back to the whole "Conversating-while-Urinating" discussion. Some debate that they don't like talking to people in the bathroom who are in the bathroom with them but having a phone conversation is okay.

NEWSFLASH: It isn't okay. Trust me, as a person being on the other end of the receiver when the person I'm talking to is answering Nature's call, there is nothing okay with being able to hear what you're doing long distance.

Especially when you feel the need to discuss it with me in horrific graphic detail. Not that anyone in my family does this, especially not my sweet little practically-chain-smoking grandmother. She would never talk about her and her boyfriend's bathroom adventures to her granddaughter... for long periods of time... almost every time I talk to her.

Nothing against my grandma, of course. She's an awesome lady. She just likes sharing the details of her life with me. Which I guess is kind of nice. Disgusting, but nice.

In the writing of all this, which I find embarrassing to even blog about, I can't help but think about Elliot Reid from Scrubs, the self-described "nervous pooer". So, you know what? This horrible blog entry is dedicated to you, Elliot. Congratulations.

eww eww EWW.

2009-07-10T09:52:00.004-05:00

Morgan Freeman is marrying his step-granddaughter.

Who is he trying to be? The black Woody Allen?

There. I said it. And I feel better about it.

And what's even grosser than the whole 'step-grandfather/step-granddaughter going to be husband and wife' thing is the fact that he is 72 and she's 27. Now, I know that 'age is just a number' and all that bull, but there's a lot of numbers between 27 and 72. He's a whole middle-aged person older than her. I mean, he's old enough to be her grandfather....

... oh, wait. He IS her grandfather.

It's sick. Sick and wrong. I mean, you just wouldn't expect this from someone who once played God.

guilt and city grime

2009-07-08T21:38:00.006-05:00

Survived New York. I didn't get mugged, North Korea didn't bomb the place like my grandpa thought they would, and Robert Pattinson was nowhere to be seen.

I did do a good job and only hurt myself once while I was there. You can hardly tell where I cut my nose with my fingernail now.

The trip was so much fun and I'm eager to go back. I've talked about it so much to so many people that retelling what all we did at this point just seems too much. But I will show you this:

1) Yes, I know that those sunglasses make my nose look huge. While I tend to be attracted to guys with larger noses (I'm weird, I know), I like my nose the way it is, and it is NOT as big as those sunglasses make it appear.

2) That building behind me. If you think it looks like the exterior shot of Monica and Rachel's apartment from Friends, then you would be correct. I can't tell you how happy I was to find that apartment. I dragged Jessica around for longer than she probably wanted to put up with me to find it, but I found it. Sadly, I did not find my Chandler anywhere nearby.

3) Also, my hair is red now. I took the plunge and dyed it. Just a semi-permanent where it will wash out in 20 or so washes. My hair has been jacked up ever since and am going through 'hair detox' all over again.

4) This wasn't supposed to be a laundry list type of blog entry. Oh well, too late now. Realized that I get a strange thrill in hailing taxis. And while most of the drivers tried to cheat us out of money and not counting the last driver who took us back to the airport, they were fairly nice. Not at all what I thought New York cab drivers would be like.

5) Bought a purse in Chinatown. I still have mixed feelings about it. It's really pretty but every time I look at it, I think about a sad little Chinese grandma sitting in a dank basement somewhere sewing purses together with her aching arthritic fingers for pennies a day. Am slowly starting to think of all my clothing that way actually. But especially that purse.

6) Didn't find Robbie Rob (my nickname for Robert Pattinson), and don't think we didn't look for him. We stalked New York like we were rabid fifteen-year-old girls.

7) And, speaking of acting like fifteen-year-olds, there were Harry Potter movie posters EVERYWHERE. It was beautiful. And I smiled like a madwoman every time I saw one in the subway or in Times Square.

8) Still feel like I haven't caught up on my sleep from the trip. Am dozing of while typing this off. But maybe that's because of something else that I really don't have the energy to discuss right now.

9) And, just as a cliffhanger that will never be resolved, I got a pleasant surprise yesterday that more than made up for what happened the day before that.

NaNoWriMo

2009-06-28T21:52:00.005-05:00

A few years ago, Shawna introduced me to National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo, or, as I get progressively lazier throughout this entry, NaNo. I think Shawna told me about this... didn't you, Shawna?

Okay, so I don't remember how I heard about it, but I do know that Shawna and I both attempted to write a 50,000 word novel during November. That's what NaNoWriMo is. From November 1-30, you write your ass off. You turn off the phone (unplugging the phone is a thing of the past), you put a stop on your social life (since I don't have one, this doesn't present a problem for me), and you just write and curse and write some more and maybe get a little drunk once you've reached the point where you're absolutely certain you can write no more. Or, that you can write, but you are so sure that you'll never get 50,000 words cranked out during 30 days or that you will never be the next Jane Austen/Stephen King/I can't believe I just compared those two/and so on and so forth.

It's actually a pretty good time.

I didn't complete NaNo that year. I don't remember if Shawna did or not, but I do know that she won last year.

And what do you win if you complete NaNoWriMo, you ask?

Well, you win nothing. You just gain the satisfaction of writing a novel. And, sure, it may be absolute crap or not really finished, you just have the first 50,000 words, but, by God, you stuck with that story for a month. And isn't that nice feeling of not giving up better than any sort of monetary gain?

I'm going to take that silence as a 'yes'.

I'm doing NaNo again this year. This is really the first year I don't have an excuse not to. I'm not in school anymore (have I mentioned that I still haven't told my dad that I quit grad school? I'm a dead woman), I have no real social life, and, most importantly, I HAVE AN IDEA ALREADY.

Plus, Shawna is doing NaNo again and Trista said she is "thinking about it" which, to me, may as well be a signed, dated, and notarized written contract. I think it's best to have friends also doing NaNo so that you don't totally lose your mind.

And, since I'm horrible at planning and organizing stories before I start writing them, this NaNo should be an interesting one.

Seriously, I'm a fairly organized person when it comes to plans and activities and places that aren't my room (my bookshelf is excluded from this; it's damn near immaculate in its tidiness), you would think that outlining stories would be no big deal.

Wrong-o.

I fully blame my seventh grade Social Studies teacher for my hatred of outlines. She had us write detailed outlines for each chapter in our textbook. I mean, some of these outlines were six, seven, ten pages long. I do believe I had an eleven-page one at some point that year.

And perhaps I didn't say that this happened in the SEVENTH-GRADE? I didn't do that much work in 400-level college courses, for Pete's sake!

That probably should say something about my college education, huh?

If you're reading this Western, you're a great school and I love working for you. Please don't fire me for questioning the education I got there and will be paying for over the next five-thousand years.

Right, back to the point. I don't do well with outlines. I feel too constricted using them when it comes to actually writing. The only notes I have for my NaNo are what I've emailed to Shawna and Trista. In one of those email conversations Trista says that she has a six-page detailed outline done for the story she's thinking about.

I hate her a little bit.

Okay, I don't hate her. I'm just insanely jealous that she can write outlines and not be completely stifled by them. I need to be able to just write and not have any sort of agenda. Like right now, I'm just writing. I couldn't tell you what this entry is actually about...

I'll never be a 'Blog of Note' on Blogger if I keep up with these entries that make absolutely no sense, will I?

That's probably my own little cue to wrap this puppy up and come full-circle.

For more information on NaNo and how you can join the madness with me, Shawna, Trista, and many others, check out NaNoWriMo.org.

Kay: I went out... to buy cigarettes and I figured out how to kill Harold Crick.

Penny: Buying cigarettes?
Kay: As I was... when I came out of the store I... it came to me.
Penny: How?
Kay: Well, Penny, like anything worth writing, it came inexplicably and without method.
- Stranger Than Fiction

you will all be missed

2009-06-25T22:13:00.005-05:00

People die every day. And not just one person, but hundreds. Maybe thousands, I don't know the exact numbers on these kinds of things. Rich people, poor people, priests, mechanics, prostitutes, children, seniors, soldiers, good people, bad people, and some in between. No one is immune to death... well, except maybe Larry King.

And I don't want to demean those people who die daily to talk about celebrities but I can't help but talk about the deaths of Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett, and Michael Jackson, all three of who died this week, Farrah and Michael today and Ed on Tuesday. And by no means am I trying to say one person is better than the other, but like most others, especially those from my generation, Michael Jackson's death hit me the hardest.

As Meagan was saying earlier tonight, Michael Jackson is the first real pop culture icon to die in our lifetimes. And Farrah Fawcett and Ed McMahon are pop icons as well, but, and I don't know about you guys, but I grew up listening to Michael Jackson. My little cousins, Katie and Michael, loved that man. I remember watching them dance to "Thriller", and having memorized the choreography from the video. I still remember the "Black and White" video and the appearance from Macaulaly Culkin and a few people from Young and the Restless. And, come on, that song he sang in Free Willy? How is that not forever etched into your memory?

As an artist, Michael Jackson was revolutionary and his music has brought me many moments of happiness, whether I've been out drinking at 3 Brothers and someone plays "Billie Jean" on the jukebox or if I was just hanging around the apartment listening to iTunes on Shuffle and "Bad" comes on.

Though Michael Jackson has passed, his memory and his music will not soon be forgotten.

I wish I could say something poignant about Farrah Fawcett's passing, but I honestly don't know too much about her. I know that she was in Charlie's Angels and loved by the lads in the '70s. She had been battling cancer for several years now and staying strong throughout the treatments and hospital stays, which shows how truly tough she was, and that's admirable. Though she has passed, I take comfort that she is out of pain now and with her God.

On textsfromlastnight.com, someone posted a text conversation and, maybe it's too soon for this, but I took it lightly and it was comforting to me:

(325): I bet farrah fawcett is having words with michael jackson in heaven for stealing her thunder

I've watched clips of The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson over the years. I got my mom that 'Best of Johnny Carson' set that you occasionally see on infomercials a few years back and it has turned into a gift to me since I watch it more than she does. Those clips, and a few Publisher's Clearing House commercials, are my only real memories of Ed McMahon. I fully realize that there was much more to the man than that, and I am not belittling his many years on The Tonight Show or him surprising people by coming to their door with a film crew, some balloons, and a really big cardboard check. I love those memories.

In my mind, Heaven is kind of like The Tonight Show right now. Johnny Carson is hosting, Ed is sitting in the far seat to the left of the desk, Farrah is sitting between Johnny and Ed being interviewed, and Michael is slightly off stage preparing for his musical number.

I bet they're having an awesome time up there.

“If you enter this world knowing you are loved and you leave this world knowing the same, then everything that happens in between can be dealt with.”
- Michael Jackson, 1958-2009

Ed McMahon, 1923 - 2009

Farrah Fawcett, 1947-2009

Michael Jackson, 1958-2009

i'm packing heat!

2009-06-22T18:52:00.004-05:00

TEN DAYS UNTIL NEW YORK!!!!

I'm proud of myself for waiting this long to start packing. If my suitcases didn't smell like consignment store, I would have been packing stuff up a long time ago. After several showers in Febreeze, perfume, and vodka, the consignment store smell has faded significantly. It's still there though.

And yes, I totally sprayed vodka on my suitcases. It seemed to work better than the Febreeze did.

But man did I hate to just throw away fine vodka like that.

All right, fine, it was Burnett's vodka. But still, it could have got me drunk. Not that I have ever got drunk in the apartment before. I've tried, but I think the apartment makes me immune to liquor somehow.

Right. No more talk of me being on the road to alcoholism.

While waiting for the consignment store smell to fade out of my suitcases, I made a nice little checklist for New York. Ain't it lovely?

Everything not checked still has to be washed or is needed before next week. So, in all the time I spent packing, I only have a little make-up bag packed and a pair of flip-flops for the shower at the hotel. Yeah, did I mention that we're staying at a step-up from a hostel where we share a bathroom with other people? I think it will be fun. I've never stayed at a hotel like that before. And, okay, it's really not that different from a dorm. But it's a dorm in New York, not Kentucky.

Location, location, location.

In other, totally unrelated news, Meagan and I have decided to get a show on public access. Okay, I kind of decided for Meagan, but still, this show would be gold. It'd be like Wayne's World, but with girls offering snarky comments about their own lives and celebrities' lives and TV shows.

Don't lie. You know you would watch that shit.

idk? my bff anne?

2009-06-16T14:00:00.006-05:00

My dream to become BFFs with Anne Hathaway is one step closer to becoming a reality.

Jessica, who I'm going to New York with, has informed me that Anne Hathaway is performing in Twelfth Night at Shakespeare in the Park while we'll be in town.

I hate Shakespeare. I don't know if it's the fact that all of those plays got crammed down my throat in high school, or if it's because that Shakespeare gets all the credit for all those things that he didn't write or what, but Shakespeare in the Park is a staple of New York culture.

And I really want to be friends with Anne Hathaway. Plus, she was in The Princess Diaries with Robert Schwartzman and, if you guys have read at least two of my blog entries, then you know that my love for Robert Schwartzman is as deep as the Mariana Trench. I'm sure that Anne and Rob still keep in contact. I mean, they both seem like really nice people who would keep the other's number in their Blackberries (Is that how the plural of Blackberry devices is spelled? Or should it be 'Blackberrys'? I don't know if it's different for fruit versus phone). And, if she really was my BFF, she would cleary see that Rob and I should be together and would be like, "Crystal. Here's Rob's number. Please call him immediately. You are clearly his lobster. Go to him now."

Look at how cute we would be together!

I definitely didn't Photoshop my face onto some other person's body in that picture. I would never do such a pathetic thing. Again. For the fiftieth time. And put my face on people who have nicer hair than me.

And if, God forbid, Rob and I don't work out (how could we not? I mean, look at us! We're adorable together), then Anne would be like, "Don't worry, girl. I've worked with Chris Pine, Adrian Grenier, and Chris Pratt. They'd all be perfect for you." Then we would put together our best date outfits and borrow each others necklaces and earrings because I know that everyone, even Anne Hathaway, wants to borrow the naked angel earrings I got this weekend at a yard sale.

By the way, I'm really not this crazy. And, also, this blog entry has created the best image searches ever.

new york, i love you

2009-06-15T17:00:00.005-05:00

I do not do well with feeling overwhelmed. Oh, I can handle anything thrown at me (in time and not always in a pleasant mood), but if I can get a handle on whatever is making me feel overwhelmed (and I usually can) then I'm good. I mean, I totally thrive on working on things at the very last minute... in fact, my best papers in college were written at the last minute...

... okay, fine, ALL of my college papers were written at the last minute, but I digress.

Actually, I digress even more, but I have to share that I just tried to turn the TV up using the volume control on my laptop. Needless to say, the TV volume stayed the same. Not that it matters that I can't hear the television. It's on Pride and Prejudice and it's not like I can't quote that movie from beginning to end anyway.

Right, back on track.

Once I start planning and breaking down all the things that make me overwhelmed, I'm usually incredibly excited to seeing it to completion. This is why I think that I would make an excellent wedding planner. I like organizing, being at least partly in control of things, and seeing a pretty end result.

That still isn't the point of this blog.

This is:

I've been scouring the internet and reading books about what to do and what to see and where to shop in New York. My head is spinning from all that there is to do there. And all the different parts of Manhattan to visit (the Village, Chinatown, SoHo, Little Italy, Tifanny [I realize Tiffany isn't necessarily it's own little town, but... it's Tiffany], and so on) and it's making me dizzy. This is why I have decided to make a list of the different 'hoods in New York and places to see/shop/eat there. If I get in full-on Monica Gellar mode, I might even cross-reference this list by making a list of of sights, restaurants, and stores and where they are located. Because I am a crazy person...

I should fit right in in New York.

sing a song

2009-06-10T07:56:00.005-05:00

I keep thinking that if I ignore my Facebook invitation to my fifth year high school reunion, it will just go away after a few days like an annoying cough.

It's not the whole "I'm-getting-so-old-woe-is-me" thing, it's the "It's-only-been-five-years-give-me-some-time-to-accomplish-something-and-besides-I-don't-like-most-of-you-guys-I-graduated-with-anyway" thing. And the bulk of the people I graduated with that I actually do care about, are at Western. There's, like, five people I'd like to see outside of that. And a few of them are in the military so what are the odds that they'll be able to show up anyway?

Alright, so I'm a Negative Nancy. Sue me.

Meh. Enough of that. Onto more important things, like making a list of the best (read: my favorite) songs from movies.

1 - "Somebody to Love" - Anne Hathaway, featured in Ella Enchanted
Yes, this is a cover of the classic Queen hit. Yes, it's from a crappy movie. Yes, I own the movie and watch it occasionally. And yes, Anne Hathaway really does sing it. Not only that, she sings it well. Plus, this is one of my favorite Queen songs. Other favorites include "Bicycle Race" and "Bohemian Rhapsody", which brings me to song numero dos...

2 - "Bohemian Rhapsody" - Queen, featured in Wayne's World
I can't be sure, but I'm pretty sure this is how I found out about Queen. And, really, is there a better way to learn about that band than from a movie based on a Saturday Night Live skit starring Mike Meyers before he became Austin Powers? The answer is no, there is no better way to discover Queen than through this outlet.

3 - All the music from the most recent Pride and Prejudice movie
I'm usually not into instrumental music. I crave lyrics, even if they are stupid (I'm looking at you, Tinted Windows and your song "Cha Cha"), but the soundtrack to Pride and Prejudice is just beautiful. Especially "Can't Slow Dawn" and "Georgiana". Go listen. Seriously, go now. I'll wait here patiently for you to return.

4 - "Top of the World" - The Juliana Theory, featured in the made-for-Disney-TV-movie, Motocrossed
This movie marks the very first time I ever heard The Juliana Theory. This song remains one of my favorite, and not just of The Juliana Theory's. This movie is also really cute. In an odd way. The more I think about it, the more disturbing it becomes, actually. Let's move on...

5 - "Catch a Falling Star" - Block, featured on Never Been Kissed
This song is also found in The Princess Diaries, but by a different artist (you know what else is found in The Princess Diaries? Robert Schwartzman!). This makes it my belief that this song is any movie that Garry Marshall has directed or been cast in. Have I mentioned that it's one of my dreams to become an actress and star in Garry Marshall directed film? Because it totally is one of my dreams.

6 - "Hold On" - Wilson Phillips, featured hysterically in Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle
If you haven't seen this, please go to YouTube immediately and watch the clip. You will laugh like a rabid hyena. And, if you don't, then you have no soul. You know what? I can't wait for you to go to YouTube:

...

You know what, I can't top that clip.

i sleep like a rock while dreaming about The Rock

2009-06-08T17:26:00.005-05:00

One important thing to know about me:

I have the oddest dreams imaginable. Sigmund Freud wishes that he was alive just to psychoanalyze the dreams I have.

Last night is one for the record books, and that's saying something since I've had dreams where the word MMMBop was trying to chase me down, and another dream where Ben Kweller was trying to kill me. Of course, in that dream I was dating Andrew McMahon of Something Corporate and Jack's Mannequin so, while I was terrified of Ben Kweller killing me, I at least had Andrew to make me feel safe.

And, it all worked out okay in the end. Ben and Andrew ended up doing a concert together and, you know, Andrew McMahon loved me.

Last night's dream though? It was just peculiar. And I can't remember all of what happened, but Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson was definitely there and he kept offering to make dinner for me. And not just any dinner, mind you, but a heaping hot can of Campbell's Chunky soup.

Hey Freud, what do you think of them apples?

+

=

Not normal things to dream about at the same time. Or, in the case of the Campbell's Chunky soup, at all.

so many movies

2009-06-05T10:18:00.005-05:00

There's a video store here called Tops n Video. Based on the name alone, I always assumed that they rented out smutty films to fifteen-year-old boys with fake IDs, and I had no need of ever going in there and thus avoided the place entirely.

Now, thank to Netflix, RedBox, and all the porn out there on the interwebs, Tops n Video is being forced to go out of business and write on their windows with chalk that 'everything must go' and 'DVDs: $5.99/3 for $15/10 for $40'.

Porn or no porn, I clearly had to go in there and see if I could find any sweet deals.

You know that 10 for $40 deal I mentioned? Yeah, I did that. Actually, I got nine movies, Hattie got the tenth one. Oh, but never fear, I went to Wal-Mart after that and bought He's Just Not That Into You since I have no fucking self-control.

So, what did I buy at Tops n Video?

The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
American Pie
American Pie 2
Ocean's 13
Pocahontas
Anchorman (I'm not entirely sure that I don't already own this one)
Elf
Dirty Dancing
... and there's another movie. Gah, what was it? This is like trying to name all the seven dwarfs or all my grandpa's thirteen siblings; I always forget someone.

It'll come to me later, I'm sure. Like, when I get home and find the bag they're all tucked away in since I was too tuckered out spending money on buying them yesterday to put them in my DVD case properly.

I have two of those huge CD carrying cases that I have devoted just to DVDs. One holds TV series and the other movies, both are in alphabetical order and, in the case of the TV series and movie series, chronologically. I like to think that this is an intelligent, logical way to organize a collection and not a way of displaying my anal-retentive, slight-OPCD tendencies to the world. Some would beg to differ and call me ridiculous.

But it's not so ridiculous when you have no trouble finding Season 2, Disc 4 of Friends or Walk the Line, now is it?

Dick: I guess it looks as if you're reorganizing your records. What is this though? Chronological?
Rob: No...
Dick: Not alphabetical...
Rob: Nope...
Dick: What?
Rob: Autobiographical.
Dick: No fucking way.
- High Fidelity, one of those movies that's just as good as the book

heart movies.

2009-06-03T07:59:00.007-05:00

After I didn't illegally download the song "Heart Songs" by Weezer the other night, I have realized how fantastic that song is. If you don't believe me, go buy the song off iTunes, Amazonmp3, etc and have a listen.

While listening to the song, which chronicles the music that Rivers Cuomo grew up on and the songs that are so close to his heart, I decided to make a little list of my own. Not with songs (that will probably be the next post), but with movies. I mean, this is a movie blog after all. Well, it sort of is... sometimes... when I'm not ranting about stupid stuff... or talking about my undying love for Isaac Hanson...

Now, without further ado, I present to you Crystal's Heart Movies:

1 - The Little Mermaid, 1989
You can deny all you want, but you know that you love this movie. Even if it, like another Disney movie that I love and may appear later on this list (by the way, I'm making this list up as I go), almost crosses the line into beastiality. I used to be all about this movie when I was a kid. I had the backpack, the sweatshirt, the shoes, and my mom even quilted an Ariel blanket for my cousin Sarah. My mom claims that she made one for me as well but I have no recollection of it. Now I'm not saying that my mother lied to me, her only child, her own flesh and blood, but I don't remember an Ariel blanket of my own.
ps. The remix of "Kiss the Girl" by Certified Bananas is made of win.
pps. Remember to look for the priest's "happiness" when he's marrying Eric and Ursela.

2 - The Goonies, 1985
I.Love.The.Goonies. Mouth is one of my favorite people. And this movie made me love Josh Brolin until he terrified the living hell out of me in Grindhouse. The Goonies is my mom and mine's 'go-to' movie. Rather, it was our 'go-to' movie until lightning came in on the TV at the house and made it immune to DVD players, that is.
For the win:
"You guys are crazy. There's a funny farm with your names written all over it. But I'm out of here. I... I smell ice cream."
- Chunk, another one of my favorite people

3 - National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, 1989
I saw the beginning of this movie by accident many moons ago. I was with my grandma at the theaters to see a movie (I feel like it might have been The Little Mermaid, actually), and we went into the wrong theater where the cartoon beginning of this movie started. Realizing the error, we retreated and went into the proper theater. It turned out that this became one of my grandma's favorite movies. It's one of my favorites too, not only because of the line "We're going to have the hap-hap-happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny-fuckin'-Kaye', but because I remember all the times my grandma and I watched this movie together. And, yes, I watch this Christmas movie all year through. Ditto Home Alone. I also listen to Hanson's Christmas album occassionaly in May and September as well. I'm pretty sure I'm not okay.

4 - The Wedding Singer, 1998
Okay, do me a favor. Go to your television set and turn it to VH1. Chances are The Wedding Singer is playing right now. If it is, watch it. If it isn't, check back in a few hours; it should be on. The Wedding Singer really is a stupid movie. But it's a stupid movie that I love (see also: Twister, Titanic, and The 'Burbs). I'm pretty much content with life whenever there's an Adam Sandler or Drew Barrymore movie on. The Wedding Singer brings two of my favorites together for a hour of laughs and sing-a-longs because you know, just as well as I do that you yell out the lines "oh somebody kill me please/somebody kill me please/I'm on my knees/pretty pretty please kill me" right along with Robbie Hart. If you're shaking your head and saying 'No, Crystal, I don't do that', then you're lying, you liar.

5 - The Princess Diaries, 2001
Maybe it's my crush on Robert Schwartzman, my desire to be BFFs with Anne Hathaway, my wish to be in a Garry Marshall film, or my love for all things Meg Cabot, but I can pretty much watch The Princess Diaries anytime. And why not? It's an adorable movie. And, even though Mia's fifteen, I can totally relate to her:

"I'm still waiting for normal body parts to arrive!"
- HRH Mia Thermopolis

I highly recommend reading The Princess Diaries series as well. Because, for one, her dad isn't dead. They only killed him off for the movie so that Julie Andrews could play the part of Grandmere. And, because I'm a dorky Meg Cabot fan and have listened to her Romance Writers keynote speech, I know that the dad in The Princess Diaries books was based on her father who passed away. When Disney asked if they could kill of Mia's dad to enlarge the grandmother's role, Meg Cabot asked who the actress was. Upon learning that it was Julie Andrews, Meg Cabot replied, "Kill the dad!"

Yes, I know far too much about things that will never make me rich.

This concludes (what is probably) Part I of Crystal's Heart Movies. Stay tuned for more.

Oh, and because my love for Robert Schwartzman is as deep as the ocean:

when i was your age, television was called books

2009-06-01T09:40:00.005-05:00

I took a break from reading The Princess Bride this weekend to watch the movie version. This is nothing out of the ordinary when it comes to me reading books that have been turned into movies. It's actually the reason I have yet to finish Emma. Whenever I start reading it, I'm like, "I want to watch Clueless", and then I go and watch Clueless. And it has nothing to do with the fact that I am desperately in love with Paul Rudd.

While watching The Princess Bride, I decided that, if people really must kill each other, then they should do it with swords. Don't get me wrong, I'm totally against murder and think that violence is stupid and solves absolutely nothing, but people are stupid and good at solving absolutely nothing. And, really, the whole thing is much more noble for the killer and the victim if they duke it out with swords rather than shooting out a car window or something. It's passion meets skill when it comes to fencing.

Of course, the only problem with bringing fencing back is that everybody and their mom will be using this line:

"Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."

it's like you're always stuck in second gear

2009-05-27T19:43:00.007-05:00

Instead of trying to relearn HTML and all that for this blog, I finally tracked down a program that does all the work for you. Ah, laziness. The American way.

http://www.wannabegirl.org/firdamatic/

That's what I done this page with. The code seems pretty basic, which means that I should be able to tweak it at some later date without too much headache.

I've spent a couple hours today with a map of New York and a pack of markers, trying to figure out where various locations (okay, clothing stores) are. I have decided that my phrase for the NYC trip will be "Where in the fuck is (whatever street we are looking for)." The inflection will be most prominent on the "in" and the "fuck" I'm pretty sure. And I feel that if I speak in this manner, I will be thought of as a regular New Yorker who just happens to lack a sense of direction.

I did find the location of a very important building that I want to visit while I'm in New York:

So look around, you guys. This was your first home. And it was a happy place. Full of love, and laughter. But more important, because of rent control, it was a friggin' steal!
- Chandler, Friends, The Last One

Yes, I consider the building where the characters from Friends lived to be an important building. Sadly, this is one of the things I am looking most forward to seeing on the trip. Well, this and about a million other things. I kind of want to go through all my books that take place in New York and look the restaurants, buildings, and stores up to see 1) if they even exist and 2) where they are located. Then when I can get back and have my pictures put on Facebook, I can be like, "And here I am at some random location that Heather Wells was at in Size 12 is Not Fat.

Poor Jessica (my travel buddy and Hanson concert partner-in-crime) has no idea what she's in for.

And, totally random: my cat is asleep at the foot of my bed and I am not lying one little bit when I say that she is snoring... louder than most humans.

it is a truth universally acknowledged ...

2009-05-26T21:37:00.005-05:00

... that I have a slight obsession with dresses this year. In particular, I have an obsession with long dresses that I have to pick up ever-so-slightly when walking up the steps so as not to trip. In some cases when wearing slick shoes and under the influence of alcohol, especially when I help people finish off a pitcher purchased fifteen minutes before close, I should pick these dresses up when walking across flat surfaces so as not to fall in parking lots...

... not that I have ever done such a thing. Okay, once. But, really, the sandals I had on were really slick.

My reasoning for loving these long dresses that I have to pick up just so is simple: when I wear these dresses, I feel like a heroine in one of Jane Austen's novels.

Take the Quiz here!

Of course, what girl wouldn't want to be Elizabeth Bennet? I mean, she ends up with Darcy for crying out loud. And, fine, the only book of Jane Austen's I've read is Pride and Prejudice, though I am slowly making my way through Emma. And Sense and Sensibility is on my list as well. It's all on my summer reading list.

My summer reading list is becoming a bit of a problem since I keep finding more books that I want to read. Who would have thought that my place of employment would have a copy of The Princess Bride? I sure as hell was surprised to learn about it. I'm about 100 pages into it and highly suggest that you go pick yourself up a copy immediately. I'll probably buy a copy of it myself in the near future. I bought a new bookshelf this weekend which means that I have to buy more books to fill up said bookshelf so that it doesn't look like a loser compared to my other bookshelf.

The self-esteem of bookshelves is a very fragile thing, I'll have you know.

In other news, my cat, Emmy, moved down to Bowling Green with me this weekend. It should be interesting. She learned how to get into the bathroom cabinet today, not that I'm particularly surprised since she likes to sit on clean clothes and such whenever she's given the chance.

Emmy, circa 2004 because I'm too lazy to take a new picture of her now. She looks pretty much the same, just fatter.

And, to end this post, I'm quoting something different than a movie, though there have been many movie adaptations of this book. But, come on, it's Jane Austen. You can't use a movie quote when the book is clearly a million times better.

"I cannot fix on the hour, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun."
- Darcy, Pride and Prejudice, in response to how long he had loved Elizabeth

By the way, it's tragic that in this version of Pride and Prejudice, the guy playing Darcy is only attractive when he smiles. This is somewhat problematic since Mr. Darcy smiles, maybe, twice throughout the entire movie.

just a quick post for the weekend.

2009-05-22T16:49:00.003-05:00

I've always welcomed my birthdays and getting more mature and such. I say this and it's all good, in theory.

I found a gray hair today at work. IT WAS ATTACHED TO MY HEAD WHICH MEANS THAT IT'S MINE.

I like to think that I've handled the discovery well. I haven't ran out to buy hair dye... yet. And that's really only because I'm trying to get chemicals away from my hair.

If I find any more gray hair, though, it's all over. I'll be at WalMart in a quick minute to purchase hair dye. Ooh, maybe red....

it should take you exactly four seconds to cross from here to that door... i'll give you two!

2009-05-18T19:49:00.005-05:00

I'm going to New York in July. Now, I do want to go sightseeing and look at Times Square and Trinity Church (and, okay, I only want to see that because it was in National Treasure... shut up, I don't have a problem) and Strawberry Fields and maybe even take the Staten Island ferry out to get a decent look at the Statue of Liberty without actually having to pay anything (the Staten Island ferry is free and won't take up four hours like a visit to Lady Liberty would).

But, you know what I'm most excited about?

The shopping.

I'm a girl, whatever. But, you guys don't even understand. I live for a good deal. As I was telling my roommate the other day, growing up is no fun since I have to pay my own medical bills... and you just can't catch a co-pay on sale or 50% off surgery... unless you have it done in Mexico, that is.

But, finding an Urban Outfitters purse that retails for 80 bucks at Rugged Warehouse for $3? That's beautiful. And, I don't mean like 'perfect cloudless day with the brightest sky you've ever seen' beautiful. I'm talking about 'there's a rainbow pouring down only purple Skittles and the boy you've crushed on forever finally admits his undying love for you while you find your latest novel has reached number one on the New York Times bestseller list and five production companies are fighting for the rights to make said book into a movie' beautiful.

Obviously I am a material girl living in a material world with rose-colored glasses on...

... but you can bet your sweet ass I got those rose-colored glasses on sale.

All right, I had a real point to this post.

Because I've never been to New York before, I don't know where to go for bargain shopping. This is where Google comes in. It is also where I lose what little faith I had left in Google. When I put "bargain shopping in new york" in the search engine, do you know what result I get?

KMart.

I am not even kidding you guys. KMart.

And I don't want to hate. But, seriously. KMart? What the hell? I didn't type "crappy shopping in Kentucky" in the search engine.

I'm so using Yahoo! from now on.

Holly: You know those days when you get the mean reds?
Paul: The mean reds? You mean like the blues?
Holly: No. The blues are because you're getting fat and maybe it's been raining too long, you're just sad that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?
Paul: Sure.
Holly: Well, when I get it the only thing that does any good is to jump in a cab and go to Tiffany's. Calms me down right away. The quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there. If I could find a real-life place that'd make me feel like Tiffany's, then - then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name!
- Breakfast at Tiffany's

I totally plan to get some of those sunglasses, a black dress, and a Danish and recreate this photo while I'm in New York despite the fact that I look nothing like Audrey Hepburn. Dammit.

jon and kate plus eight minus john plus a lot of child support

2009-05-14T23:21:00.003-05:00

First off, don't judge me.

Yes, I think it is important to ask this of you before I even start this post. What I am getting ready to discuss is something I am neither proud or ashamed to admit. It is with a heavy heart (and the fact that the people I'm around are probably sick of hearing me talk about it) that I am telling you, the reader of this blog.

There is at least one reader here, right? That little counter on this page is telling me that it's more than just me checking this blog out.

Paranoia aside, I am OBSESSED with the drama that is unfolding around Jon and Kate Plus Eight. I have always loved this show because 1) the kids are adorable and 2) Kate is a bitch and, while I feel bad for John, I don't want her to stop being a bitch to him because it's just too amusing.

Yes, I am so selfish that I want Kate to be mean to her husband so much that he has to allegedly go out to seek companionship with another woman, thus ruining his marriage to Kate. Which, really, I'm surprised that he had to balls to cheat on Kate. I don't even live in the same state with her and I'm afraid of the woman. I can't imagine the fury that has been unleashed since this discovery... has anyone seen Jon in the past 24 hours? She didn't dig a hole in their basement and chuck him in there a la Silence of the Lambs, did she?

It rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again.

- Buffalo Bill, Silence of the Lambs

And, speaking of Silence of the Lambs, does it bother anyone else that Anthony Hopkins (who, you know, played Hannibal Lector) done the voice of the narrator in Ron Howard's version of Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas? I mean, I get that Anthony Hopkins is a very talented actor who has portrayed many roles but, come on. It's like a psychological word-association test. When I say Anthony Hopkins, you say either Hannibal, cannibal, Silence of the Lambs, or fava beans. You just can't help it. And, personally, I don't want to think of Hannibal Lector cooking up some census man's liver while I'm watching Jim Carrey parade around in a green furry suit. Or when I'm watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas either.

what a stupid lamb.

2009-05-10T22:33:00.005-05:00

I have some serious problems.

What a news flash, I know.

I've spent the bulk of my day (fine, all of it; I have no life, so sue me) shut up in my room reading the fourth book of the Mediator series by Meg Cabot and, consequently, bawling my eyes out over it. Which only makes me angry. Seriously, when I cry, which is way rare, I become angry at myself for doing so. I was raised to view crying as a sign of weakness and now I have emotional issues that will probably screw up any relationships I ever happen to get in... provided I actually attract a guy long enough to form a relationship with him...

Right, that's a can of worms not needing to be unleashed now.

Anyway, the only thing I can think that brought on those annoying tears is that the whole series is about this girl who helps ghosts finish up their unfinished business to get from Point A to Point B. And, the only thing I can figure is, that all the talk about death, made me think of the people that I have lost and just made me cry like a little brat in a toy store not leaving with the gigantic Barbie dollhouse with the working elevator.

Dammit, I wanted that dollhouse, okay? It had a working elevator, people. And a hot tub for Barbie and Ken to get down in.

Not that I would have thought of that when I was six, but still. That dollhouse should have been mine.

But I've mostly made my peace with it. The crying, that is. I still want the dollhouse. Now I'm just annoyed because I have half of a great idea for a novel and, for the life of me, cannot figure out the other half. I probably have a fourth of this story already written down in various notebooks and on computer files and a notebook that I haven't seen since sometime in mid-March as it is being, from what I can tell, held hostage at a friend's apartment. But that fourth of the story I have jotted down in various locations is just a skeleton because I'm missing half of the plot. It's surprisingly to find any urban legends and folklore on the subject that hasn't been recently exploited by a crappy book series and an even crappier movie to accompany in it, despite the fact that Robert Pattinson is one of the most attractive motherfuckers on the planet, wonky eye and all. I mean, yeah, I love those books and the movie, but I am well aware that that vampire franchise sucks only the most awful things.

And, sadly, I can't think of anything else to write but in that same vein. Heh, vampires, vein. That was almost clever. Pathetic and sad, yes, but clever just the same.

So, in conclusion, I am an uncreative crybaby who never got a Barbie dollhouse with a working elevator and hot tub.

Bella: How did you get in here?

Edward: The window.
Bella: Do you do that a lot?
Edward: Just the past couple of months.
- Twilight

If Edward wasn't so terribly attractive, Bella would have reported him to the proper authorities for being a Grade A, First Class Creeper.

drink up me heartys, yo ho

2009-05-10T15:58:00.004-05:00

So, I'm watching Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl (I like to think that this was the only movie since the second and third movies were made of suck) and don't get how the British navy see the skeleton pirates and think "Oh, hey, these guys are skeletons. Shooting them should kill them."

I mean, really. And, I know, I know, it's a movie, but still. It's stupid.

And, by the way, Orlando Bloom is a miserable actor. At least he's nice to look at.

Will: You You ignored the rules of engagement. In a fair fight, I'd kill you.
Captain Jack Sparrow: That's not much incentive for me to fight fair, then, is it?
- Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl

Okay, so new dilemma. I need help. Now, back in the day, I used to know my way around some HTML. Such is not the case anymore. And I'm trying to set up this little space of internet into something nice, that people will be happy to bring their friends too and such. I have the new little graphic and a basic background and everything but the damn posts and widgets and whatnot are not aligned. I know it's not just me checking this page out and I'm sure some of you out there are wicked awesome with some coding or, at the very least, now of a good site that has code set up where all you have to do is plug in your color preferences and such. If somebody wants to present me with this stuff, I would be totally in your debt.

And I would also have a bitchin' blog.

in the summertime when the weather is fine

2009-05-06T21:14:00.007-05:00

I decided to make some summertime goals for myself. I probably won't succeed in any of those goals, but at least I have goals. Even if I don't fulfill them, I'm at least optimistic enough to have goals.

1 - Send out query letters and beg for a publishing company to buy my book.
I've been reading this book a bit and trying to find publishers that take unsolicited material. Yeah, it turns out that, like, one in thirty-seven takes material that's not from an agent. And, even though Mr. Herman says this isn't true, from everything that I can tell, you can't get an agent until you get published, but you can't get published until you have an agent. I have neither. What's that you say? That I'm totally fucked? Yes, you're probably right.

2 - Read some books.
This is the bulk of my summer reading list. Not included are the second, third, and fourth books in the Mediator series and the ninth Princess Diaries book by Meg Cabot (all are currently in the mail on their way to me), Gone with the Wind (which I'm almost mostly done with), The Truth about Forever and Dreamland by Sarah Dessen. And, in the above picture, I have started some of those books: Fight Club, Emma, and American Shamans. I just, you know, haven't finished them yet.
On a similar note, if you would like to donate a giant bookshelf to house my books, I would be forever in your debt. Kthanks.

3 - Start scrapbooking.
I know, I've totally gone over to the Dark Side of Hobby Lobby. I'm in charge of compiling scrapbooks for two people I work with who are getting ready to retire. I started this project today and, after I got over the feeling of wanting to blow my brains out from being so overwhelmed by all the paper and pictures and glitter and stickers, I really loved putting everything together. Which is why I spent a small fortune at Hobby Lobby tonight buying supplies for my own scrapbook. Not pictured is the set of 50 markers, twelve of which are labeled as being "silly scents". I don't know what the hell type of dictionary Crayola was reading from when they coined these marker scents as "silly" because, as far as I can tell, all these markers smell like ass. Maybe Crayola finds the smell of ass silly, I don't know. I always thought it was fucking disgusting. But, to each his own, I guess. To-mae-toes, to-mah-toes, and all that jazz.

So, there you have it. Those are my summer goals. And, because I can't think of a movie quote to go along with anything I've just talked about, let's pick some winner out of left field.

"Searching for a boy in high school is as useless as searching for meaning in a Pauly Shore movie."
- Cher Horwitz, Clueless

I use a quote from Clueless just for the opportunity to use a picture of Paul Rudd. And I realize that I could gain more cool points for quoting his character in Anchorman or The 40-Year-Old Virgin, but I have to be true to myself. And, the truth is, I love the movie Clueless. I also love Paul Rudd. And, this weekend, I ran into a guy who has the exact same nose as Paul Rudd. I'm not going to lie, I might have fallen a little bit in love just for a moment with him. Weird? Totally. Pathetic? Of course. Do I care? ... yeah, I do. Le sigh.

i choose vodka. and chaka khan.

2009-05-04T13:21:00.005-05:00

I would rather use the quote from the book, but since I'm at work and do not have a copy of the book readily available (yes, I work in a library and don't have a book; how ironic is that?), I'm going to have to use the movie quote, courtesy of imdb.com. Besides, this blog and movie lines kind of go hand-in-hand so I suppose this is more fitting, despite the fact that the line from the book is far superior.

"Will find nice sensible boyfriend and stop forming romantic attachments to any of the following: alcoholics, workoholics, sexaholics, commitment-phobics, peeping toms, megalomaniacs, emotional fuckwits, or perverts."
- Bridget, Bridget Jones's Diary. If you can stand to look at Renee Zellweger for more than five minutes, this is a slightly decent film, mostly because Colin Firth is in it playing Mark Darcy who is, not surprisingly, not that much different from another fictional character he once played with the same last name.

I don't have romantic attachments to any of the above mentioned personalities, but do seem to stay in the company of them quite often. And, it is quite possible that, after five or so drinks, my feelings of indifference get pushed aside by something stronger: my own stupidity.

Ah, stupidity, my old friend.

So, there's no point in this entry whatsoever. There probably would have been one if a group of guys hadn't came to the floor I work on to distract me. I have to remind myself that they're all probably alcoholics, workoholics, sexaholics, commitment-phobics, peeping toms, megalomaniacs, emotional fuckwits, or perverts, and they still want nothing to do with me anyway.

How sad is my life? Oi.

i'll have what she's having

2009-05-01T20:35:00.006-05:00

It's a Friday night and I'm sitting in my apartment alone with a half-eaten pizza by my side and When Harry Met Sally playing on the television.

Ah, the glamorous life of a single girl.

It's odd that I like When Harry Met Sally so much since I'm not a fan of horror movies. I deem it a horror film because the thought of Billy Crystal having sex sickens and scares me more than I can possibly say. And Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan totally do It in this movie. Oh, they don't show it (thank God), but it's definitely implied, and that's enough to make it a horror flick.

"Had my dream again where I'm making love, and the Olympic judges are watching. I'd nailed the compulsories, so this is it, the finals. I got a 9.8 from the Canadians, a perfect 10 from the Americans, and my mother, disguised as an East German judge, gave me a 5.6. Must have been the dismount."
- Harry Burns, When Harry Met Sally

I say all this to make me feel better about watching one of the most classic and overrated chick flicks known to mankind while single and all but inhaling a greasy delicious pizza.

Eh, I'm pathetic, whatever. I'll watch something really cool after this, I promise, and not Never Been Kissed or The Princess Diaries or any other movie that features The Backstreet Boys on the soundtrack. I'll watch Old School or Ocean's 11 or something that will let me redeem at least a little bit of my pride.

sir, one more outburst and i will strangle you with my microphone wire

2009-04-28T09:14:00.011-05:00

After careful consideration and a lot of complaining, I've decided to quit grad school. Why? Because taking online classes blow. I mean, I totally see why any normal person would love them: you can take notes, do assignments, and talk to your professor from the comfort of your bed. And, okay, some people taking face-to-face classes talk to their professors from the comfort of their own bed.

But none of that is for me. Especially the professor-in-my-bed part.

So I've decided to drop out of the library sciences program and pursue other endeavors. True that I have no idea what these other endeavors are just yet, but I'm going to pursue them, dammit. I do have some thoughts on what I'd like to do:

1 - Become a wedding planner.
I could do this job, and do it well. I'm terribly organized when it comes to work, and that's needed in this field. Plus, I work well with people, even crazy/bitchy/teary-eyed brides and their mothers who are even more crazy/bitchy/teary-eyed than their daughters. And I do my best thinking and working under extreme pressure. Why else do you think I waited until the night before to start a history paper?

Because you're really fucking lazy, Crystal, that's why.

Anyway, I could do this job, and do it well. Plus it would give me tons of experience for books, which leads me to number 2...

2 - Try to get a novel or fifty published and then turned into a movie.
I think I read somewhere that only 2% of novels get turned into movies. I don't know if this includes the made-for-TV movies they show on Lifetime or not. But, at this point in the game, i would totally settle for having Lifetime pick up the rights to my novel. I don't really know why they would want to, but who am I to stop them from paying me for it?

3 - Marry rich.
Hey, just because I admire Elizabeth Bennett marrying purely for love doesn't mean I have to have her same morals.

4a - Start playing the lottery.
This is Part One of a plan. And pretty self-explanatory. Let's continue.
4b - Win the lottery.
That Powerball jackpot gets up there sometimes. I just need to win it. I could totally survive on $80 million.

5 - Take my lottery winnings and pay for my books to be made into movies.
Ha!

If I do become a wedding planner, I'm making sure this guy gets hired for all the receptions:

Father of the Bride: Hey, buddy, I'm not paying you to share your thoughts on life. I'm paying you to sing.
Robbie: Well, I have a microphone, and you don't, SO YOU WILL LISTEN TO EVERY DAMN WORD I HAVE TO SAY!
- The Wedding Singer, starring Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore. If you turn on your television set, it's probably on right now.

technology impaired.

2009-04-19T15:03:00.003-05:00

It's very depressing when you learn that your grandfather can use call-waiting on his cell phone when you still haven't figured out how to switch calls on your own phone.

hippie science experiment

2009-04-08T22:48:00.004-05:00

"Shampoo is better. I go on first and clean the hair.
Conditioner is better. I leave the hair silky and smooth.
Oh, really, fool?
Really.
Stop looking at me, Swan!"
- Billy Madison

So, I'm not using shampoo and conditioner anymore.

Okay, before you say 'ewwwwwwww' and start making comments about my hygiene, just hear me out. And I'm not becoming a hippie and going green and vegan and all that. Not that there's anything wrong with any of that. I admire people who don't eat delicious, delicious meat. Their willpower is obviously stronger than mine. I could never give up BBQ pulled pork or chicken nuggets. Good for the people who realize that meat is finger-lickin' murder.

I had a point to this? Yes?

Oh, right. No 'poo. Seriously, that's what it's called: No 'Poo. Which is good. I mean, who wants poo in their hair? No one, unless you're seriously deranged. My hair is still getting washed, but with a baking soda and water mix, then conditioned with apple cider vinegar and water. And, no, my hair doesn't smell like vinegar. Thank God. It's still looking a bit (and by "a bit", I mean "a lot") on the oily side, but that's just my hair and scalp getting used to not being stripped of its natural self-cleaning oils.

I don't think I got the baking soda measurements right though. I need to do some more investigating. All I know is that our bathroom counter looked like a fourth-grade volcano science fair experiment gone crazy. Vinegar and baking soda, measuring cups and funnels... all that was missing was a paper-mache` volcano. And I probably could have fashioned one of those fairly easily.

I'll keep you posted on the no 'poo. And, if you see me around, don't remind me how bad I look with all my hair pulled away from my face. I'm very well aware that I look like scary.

i would make the worst 1950's housewife.

2009-04-06T21:33:00.001-05:00

Biscuits: 1, Crystal: 0.
Potatoes: 1, Crystal: 0.
All food not of the frozen-dinner variety: 35251512, Crystal: 0.

I cannot cook to save my life. I think the gene for domesticity skips a generation every now and then. I mean, my grandmothers? Excellent cooks. My mom's cooking? Amazing. But me? If it weren't for Ramen noodles and Tom from "Happy Inn" bringing Chinese food right to my door and not charging me the full price, I would never eat.

Of course, if I cut back on my eating, I could buy smaller size jeans and actually fit into ALL the clothes at Forever 21 and not just the flowy ones. Hmm....

Anyway, I found a recipe for homemade potato chips. It was so simple: slice potatoes, throw 'em around a bit in some olive oil, pour on a little kosher salt (which is the best salt in the world), and toss 'em in the oven for twenty minutes.

Thirty minutes later, I get a cookie sheet of completely raw potatoes and potatoes so burnt that they look more like beef jerky than potatoes.

I cannot cook. And we won't even go into the Biscuit Fiasco of 2009, wherein a few pieces of kitchenware died fighting the good fight against Hell's Oven.

At least, with the exception of those damn biscuits, I can bake like a mofo. Seriously. Do you want a cake? Some Statue-of-Liberty torch cupcakes? I can make those, no problem. But, if you're a meat-and-potatoes kind of person, sorry about your luck; I can't help you there. Go see Paula Deen for that shit. I'll be in the kitchen microwaving a Lean Cuisine frozen pasta dinner.

Rachel: Hey, I cook!
Chandler: Offering people gum is not cooking.
- Friends, "The One Where Ross Got High"

If offering people gum isn't cooking, then I'm in BIG trouble.

tin pan south = amazing.

2009-04-04T20:13:00.002-05:00

Isaac Hanson and I. Don't deny it, we would make an adorable couple. :)

stupid er.

2009-04-02T20:06:00.001-05:00

I get that ER has been on TV for years and John Stamos is real hot and everything, but it's getting in the way of me watching The Office... which means that I have been reduced to watching Antique Roadshow.

But Crystal, don't you love Antique Roadshow?

Yes, I love Antique Roadshow. The problem with this though is that I feel like an old widow who is just one more cat away from being a crazy cat lady whenever I watch Antique Roadshow. So, thanks ER, for making one of my nightmares a little more closer to reality.

And I have to laugh at Antique Roadshow. There's this carved elephant tusk-replica propped on the table and the way the woman is standing behind the table makes it look like it's coming out of her pants. Tee-hee.

...

Well, I might be becoming a crazy cat lady, but at least I have the maturity level of a twelve-year-old boy.

dude looks like a lady.

2009-04-01T08:55:00.001-05:00

I thought that today was going to be a good day.

Then I walked into Java City where this guy and girl were staring at me. As I passed them, I heard the girl say "she looks like a man."

And she didn't follow it up by saying "April Fool's!"

Bitch.

you're my cha cha

2009-03-31T18:41:00.001-05:00

After perusing through the lyrics from Tinted Windows' debut album (which is composed of guys from Cheap Trick, Fountains of Wayne, Smashing Pumpkins, and Hanson), it has become very apparent to me that Taylor Hanson has no part in the songwriting process of Hanson's good songs. Don't roll your eyes at that; they have good songs.

Now, don't get me wrong, the lyrics to Tinted Windows' songs sound like they're going to be fun, summertime catchy jams that will stay stuck in your head until the leaves turn orange in the fall. But don't expect to find any lyrical genius in the songs. If you're looking for fancy vocabulary and compelling lyrics, go listen to The Decemberists.

Hanson in Frank McKlusky, CI (this movie is made of suck, by the way)

"Kind of a Girl" by Tinted Windows, the first single (the guy at the beginning of this video reminds me of one of the aliens in Men in Black)

voodoo lady.

2009-03-30T19:26:00.001-05:00

"Well, say what you will about spirits; I always thought you could learn something from them."
- The Skeleton Key

The Skeleton Key, 2005, starring Kate Hudson and Gena Rowlands aka the old lady that makes you cry in The Notebook.

Despite the fact that Kate Hudson is in it, The Skeleton Key is an all right movie. Especially if you find all that 'hocus-pocus-mumbo-jumbo' interesting... which I just so happen to. Seriously, you can ask anyone who has known me more than twenty minutes; I like Hanson and going on ghost adventures. It's just who I am.

I also love the song "Voodoo Lady" by Ween and find that it's necessary to mention this song since it rarely can be brought up in conversation without being thrown in from way out in left field.

So, what have we learned today?
Go watch The Skeleton Key and listen to "Voodoo Lady". Or listen to Hanson. I'll value our friendship more if you listen to Hanson. And I'm not even joking about that.

This is the best way to watch a movie, especially if that's marshmallow popcorn they're snacking on.

i need a job at hallmark.

2009-03-29T15:29:00.001-05:00

I was rummaging through the 'cards with sound' display at Wal-Mart last night, which I know makes the employees so happy when I open, close, and re-open the card that plays "MMMBop" five times for my own amusement, when I found a card that I would love to give someone. The discovery of this card made me realize two truths about myself that I was unaware of:

1 - I am such a girl that I like to look at greeting cards just for shits and giggles, and

2 -I think so far ahead that I already have a card picked out to give to my non-existent boyfriend.

Clearly I have issues that need to be addressed.