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

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

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.

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

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

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.

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

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.