The Blinding Sights of Spring

The high today is supposed to be eighty degrees. This is very exciting. So exciting, in fact, that I decided to shave my legs in order to wear a skirt.

Now, I've been wearing skirts for months, and I wore them throughout the winter, but this was the first day I was going to leave the house sans tights or nylons since last autumn.

As I got into the shower this morning, I realized that I had left my super awesome razor at Mike's, and was forced to use a light purple disposable razor that I found in my random drawer of bathroom stuff. I could practically feel the razor burn before I even picked it up.

I love you, Fusion.

Except there was just one.
And it was purple. And evil.

Luckily, there was no burn and no blood, but now? A few hours later? It's like I never shaved at all. Explain this to me, SCHICK.

So perhaps you are like me. While shaving, I am inevitably thinking about how freakishly white my legs are going to look once I am outside. But then! I realize that my legs are quite pigmented as compared to the white bathtub, so I must be tan!

And then you get outside and the light reflecting off of your nearly translucent legs is blinding.

THE GOGGLES THEY DO NOTHING.

Me: "Were you speaking parseltongue in the bathroom last night?
BF: "Depends. Was I drunk?"
Me: "Yes."
BF: "Then probably."

"Rawr!"

HOLY SHITBALLS. I just did a google image search for "parseltongue," and this was the first image returned. It's... definitely NSFW, and it's most definitely fucked up. I don't know what kind of fanfic that it belongs under, but WHAT THE HELL? Oh my God, my eyes.

Basically, I am Flying High

I am so freaking happy, ya'll, I don't even know how to express it! The lovely Megan sent me her old digital camera, and it is BETTER THAN MINE WAS. (Seriously, Megan - did you use this camera at all?!??!)

I about cried when I opened the package. I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. It's got a faster shutter speed, it has more megapixels, it has better settings and options, and it's smaller!

Basically, I am like a kid on Christmas. But instead of Mall Madness, it was an awesome camera.

So here are the first pictures I took with the new sweet ass camera. I dedicate them to Megan. Especially the moldy tomato. It's so pretty!

Look a bird.

This is a tree!

This was on my kitchen counter! For like, a week!

Ginger cat.

Tulip.

I call this, Tulips and Tree. And Fence.

I Like to Sleep. Is That So Wrong?

It's 11:42 on Sunday morning.

I have been in bed since 6:00 pm yesterday.

Yesterday was the perfect storm of overcast skies and rain, drinking too much coffee, not eating lunch, then later eating onions on my sandwich. If I was trying to get a migraine and aggravate the GERD, I was off to a nice start!

I was out of bed at 8 in order to get to Kelly's for a previously arranged mission, and then it was a long day of Art Vans and Gardner Whites. Have you ever gone furniture shopping? It's like trying to buy a used car, except there are fewer gas fumes. "This is a top-quality bedroom set. You're going to be using this for fifty years. It's totally worth the price."

And I was all, "Gaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!" And then I went a laid down on a mattress. Apparently Vera Wang has her own line of mattresses. If someone can explain to me how this happens, I... well, I wouldn't really care.

(Is this ridiculous to anyone but me? Celebrity designed mattresses? Because there was also a line of Donald Trump mattresses, which was more disgusting than weird, but still.)

By the time I got back to Mike's, it was close to 5, I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, and was working on a nice little headache. I scarfed down my recently acquired Jimmy John's and immediately regretted it. I shouldn't be eating that fast, I shouldn't have eaten onions, and I shouldn't have drank that Coke.

So now I had a migraine and the GERD. A banner day, really.

I got in bed at 6, tried to watch the latest episode of Supernatural with Mike, and proceeded to feel my head pound more and more with each minute. In my idiocy, I waited two additional hours to actually take something for my head, because I'm smart like that.

It wasn't until sometime after midnight that I realized that the migraine was gone, but I was exhausted. Hence, the sleeping.

Mike got up early for some reason and then left before noon to get downtown for the Red Wings game, to which I was not invited because I am not a busy and important businessman.

So here I am, alone and bored, trying not to do laundry because it's so damn irritating.

This post sucks. I'm going back to bed.

See? This is Why I NEED a Camera At ALL TIMES.

These are some flowers from a flowering tree in my neighborhood...

...and this is a flower that looks like a vag.

YOU'RE WELCOME.

I am Totally in Love With This Blog

OMG, you guys.

My lovely friend Helen (who is leaving me to go to Cyprus and Israel and God knows where else to do "research" and shit for her "PhD" or whatever. DO YOU HEAR ME, HELEN? You are leaving me and I am SAD.) sent me a link to this site and reading it is all we've been doing since. Not to mention wiping away the tears from laughing so hard that my stomach is in knots and I think that I possibly might have peed myself a little.

I wish to hell that I could be this funny. I don't know that I would go so far as to say that I would sell my soul to be this funny, but maybe a kidney.

Helen and I have gotten absolutely nothing done at work today because of this, but I just told her that "I wouldn't even care if I got fired because I now have this blog in my life."

Disappointment

Good story:

I love cider. I love it. I love it when it's in a pint glass with Guinness, and I love it when it's in a bottle from the supermarket. I have yet to find a cider that I don't like. Oh wait, yes I have.

Dammit, Woodchuck! Your Limited Release Winter Cider was FANTASTIC, but then you had to go and make this bullshit spring cider that tasted like melted candy and I poured most of the bottle down the drain (but only when my father wasn't looking, because he hates it when people waste food and drink items).

So then I went and drank more than half of my GROWLER, which was filled with cider from the New Holland Brewing Company, and then I got drunk, and then I went to bed at 6:30.

So that was Easter.

I Have Issues

These signs were on the back of the women's restroom door in a place of business that I may or may not frequent. The lock was broken in a weird way, in that you could lock the door when you occupied the room, but when you left, you had to physically turn the lock on the handle.

I have the feeling that people thought that they were unlocking the door correctly, but still managed to lock the door from the outside.

I know that this is boring, but I just had to point out what a psycho I am when it comes to spelling and grammar:

Yeah, I corrected it. I don't know that I would have been able to sleep that night if I hadn't.

P.S. These pictures were taken a few days ago - BEFORE the death of my camera. OH WOE IS ME.

OH NOES

My camera is broken.

My adorable, wonderful, beloved camera is broken and I don't know what I am going to do. I don't know that I can go on. I don't know that I will be able to survive.

WHAT A WORLD!

So I got off the damn bus yesterday, and on the corner of my street is a house full of hippies who apparently love to carve shit out of stone. This includes a life-sized statue of a naked woman. Lounging. OH, AND IT'S ON THEIR PORCH.

We live one block from an elementary school. Now I realize that I sound like a prude, but won't someone think of the children? God.

Anyway, in addition to tasteful pornography, they do have lovely flowers. Flowers everywhere! So pretty! And you know that I can't resist the pretty.

So I took out my trusty *sniff* camera, shot a few close-ups, and noticed that the screen was not returning to the "view" mode. I flipped the switch back and forth a few times, turned the camera on and off a few times, and figured that it was just too bright outside. The sun, it was blinding.

I got home - and didn't have much time to fuck around as I was due at my boss's house for dinner in less than thirty minutes and I had to change my trousers because they were just too tight and I couldn't breathe very well (plus I'm sick), but then I realized that my pile o' clothes on the window seat was almost impenetrable and I didn't know if I would find the trousers I sought - and didn't check the camera.

I did find the trousers, however. I didn't want you to have to deal with a cliffhanger on top of all the camera drama. That would be unthoughtful.

When I got home later that evening, I wanted to download the lovely flower pictures that I took in front of the hippie house. The pictures downloaded without incident, but the screen of my camera? Done for. It just stopped working.

I remember when I bought my trusty little friend. He has lasted almost four years, which is pretty good for an inexpensive digital camera, right?

My MOTHER doesn't seem to understand the severity of the situation. After I texted her the devastating news this morning, she replied that I was going to have "shutter withdrawal." I think that she thinks she's funny, but she SO IS NOT.

So I replied that she had better enjoy the existing pictures of her granddaughters, since I wouldn't be able to take them any more as no one in my family seems to own a decent camera, and she FAKE GASPED.

Do you SEE what I have to deal with? NO ONE TAKES ME SERIOUSLY.

Anyway, if anyone has a used digital camera that they wouldn't mind unloading for a fair price, I am totally committed to taking it off your hands. I can't afford a new one right now, and when I passed a fat squirrel this morning (and he POSED for me on the sidewalk), I reached for the CAMERA THAT HAS CEASED TO BE and wanted to cry.

LIFE IS HARD.

Wonky Trees

I feel like they should be in The Wizard of Oz. Or Return to Oz, for that matter. (Did you see Return to Oz? With the psychiatric experiments and then the psycho lady and the heads? I didn't think that there was a way to make anything creepier than flying monkeys, but they found a way.)

When Happy Hour Means More Than Getting Sloppy Drunk

I mean, I still had two glasses of wine, and in Heather World, that still means getting sloppy drunk, but whatever. It wasn't the goal.

We went to a fairly new place down on Main Street - Melange. They had kick-ass Happy Hour specials, outside seating, and a fantastic waitstaff. I've already been back once!

Sashimi Plate

Beef Carpaccio
(Also - capers! I had never tried those before!
How is that even possible?)

Freebie!

This was on my porch when I got home from work the other day. It was as exciting as when I was in college, when living in the dorms and seeing a package slip in your mailbox was the best thing that could possibly happen that day. This time elicited the same feeling - I had no idea what it was and I wasn't expecting it.

I sort of remember signing up for it, but I sign up for lots of shit online, so who knows?

Anyway, the face cleanser and moisturizer went to my mom. Happy Birthday (back in March), LADY. Love, Your Super Thoughtful Daughter.

(RELAX, I got her a real present.)

Yay for freebies!

Don't Mind Me...

Oh God, is she still there?
A quick look wouldn't hurt.

Oh, balls, she saw me.
She's still there.

HEY LADY,
leave a fat squirrel at peace!

Happy Birthday Little Brother!

You are an old man of 27 today. I think that's rad. You have a wife and a family and a house and two dogs. I don't have those things, and I'm older than you! (Of course, Mike might have a problem with me taking a wife). I am so proud of you.

I am so lucky to have a brother who I talk to all the time. We share inside jokes that span, well... twenty-five years or so. We relish in the collective insanity of our parents (see picture below), and we know the importance of family. I don't know what I would do without you, little brother.

Yes, that is a Detroit phone book for the the years 1986-1987. We found it in our parents' front closet. The kicker? It doesn't even include our city. Explain that. I think that Steven's face says it all.

My Favorite So Far is April 4th

Again, here I am with another random link.

Sleep Talkin' Man. A woman posts text and audio of things her husband says in his sleep. Oh, and he's English, so the accent makes everything about ten thousand times funnier. So far, my favorites are April 11th's "Llamas," and April 4th's "Jellyfish." Oh! And March 26th's "Tadpoles."

This blog is FANTASTIC. What I love, however, is that these are the sort of things that Mike says (see Things My Boyfriend Says) when awake - of course, most aren't as graphic. Some are...

And to throw a preemptive ssssh your way, I found this link on pajiba today. God, I love that site. They also alerted me to Jim Carrey's descent into further insanity, so that's entertaining.

Anyway, here's a clip from The Today Show, which was a while ago, which means that I am actually late to the game on this one, but whatever.

The Young Victoria

Oh my goodness, this movie. Oh!

As a someone who considers herself a bit of an Anglophile, the idea of a fantastically-styled movie about the life of a young British queen is more exciting to me than Christmas. The fact that the movie focused on the earliest years of her reign (read: when she was young and hot) pushed it over the top of awesome for me.

Queen Victoria (Emily Blunt) ascended the British throne in 1837 at the age of eighteen. She was raised in practical solitude, as her mother and everyone surrounding her in the palace is cognizant of the fact that she must be protected. The only direct heir to the British throne, she cannot even descend a staircase without supervision. (For more on Victoria, see here, as I don't want to bore you.)

Her lack of freedom is depicted well - it's quite subtle and yet the viewer is very aware that commoners have more free will than the princess of the British Empire.

While the idea of a period movie might not be for everyone, just consider it a romantic film with fantastic clothes. It's not really a chick flick, but it follows the same formula. Chick flicks get a bad reputation, I think, because they aren't always a bad thing when they're actually written well and aren't formulaic and embarrassingly sad (re: anything starring Katherine Heigel. Ugh.) But Victoria is more romantic than sickeningly lovey-dovey, if that helps.

Yes, there's an arranged marriage, and yes, that's how it was those days, but when you see Albert (Rupert Friend), you might not feel so bad for her.

The acting is phenomenal, and as a love story, it doesn't feel fake or contrived. It's not forced or ridiculous. Well, it's ridiculous in such a way that theirs was an arranged marriage, but Victoria and Albert were very well matched, with similar interests and ideals. They both loved and supported the arts and education, as evidenced by The Great Exhibition of 1851, an international exhibition organized by Albert, and they bonded over their mutual interests.

Assassination attempts on the life of the queen (a little contrived in the film, but semi-accurate nonetheless) cemented their relationship as not just a married couple, but a team.

Their love has been well documented in letters from Victoria and Albert to relatives and friends. When Albert died, Victoria was in mourning for the rest of her life - wearing black until she died. And a little anecdote at the end of the film - explaining that Victoria laid out his clothes each day - is true. And that elicited a little sob from yours truly.

I just loved this film. I tend to either love or hate period films, and this one happened to hit all the right notes. From the gorgeous costumes to the set design and cinematography, it was like watching a piece of art.

They Taste Purpley

In the checkout at Target yesterday, I saw that the man in line behind me was buying the purple Doritos.

Okay, they're not purple. The bag is, though, and they are super good. Mike often has them at his place for me, along with grape tomatoes (which he hates), because he is a sweet boyfriend.

So the guy in line was buying the super awesome Doritos, and I felt that he needed to know how awesome they are - in case he didn't know.

"Oh, the purple Doritos... those are awesome!"

"I know, they're my favorite!"

Then the cashier chimed in. It seems that everyone loves these Doritos.

I didn't choose to comment on his other purchases, because I didn't think that he would want to comment on mine. What was he going to say, "Those tampons are awesome?"

Probably not.

Wait Till Helen Comes

OMG.

I read this book years ago, but the cover still scares the bejesus out of me. I mean, look at the horrible eighties sweatshirt! Look at the mullet hair! And look at the ghost's hair - what curls and body!

Anyway, I was always reading at a higher level than my peers, and though this book was meant for fourth through seventh grade readers, I can guarantee that I read it in the second grade. Which makes my screams from the top bunk of the bunk bed even more understandable.

(Note: I did not re-read this book. This review is based purely on memory and a quick glance at the book description on Amazon. And nightmares.)

Wait Till Helen Comes is narrated by Molly. Molly's mother has recently remarried and Molly and her brother can't stand their new stepsister, Heather, because she's a heinous bitch. Ha!

The parents are dirty hippies and buy an old church that's been converted into a house. They need studio space because they are both artists. Great idea! I'm sure that pays the bills. Of course, the church comes with a fantastic adjacent graveyard. Just the kind of place for children to be traipsing around.

Heather makes friends with a ghost named Helen, and long story short, Helen wants Heather to be with her forever. I remember there being a pond and an attempted drowning, and the siblings all become friends in the end. I do not remember much parental involvement. There may also have been a fire. I just don't remember if it was in the church or anther building.

Heather was such a bitch, though.

Marquee

I don't get it. I've heard of The Room in passing,
but have no clue why it's considered so horrible. Anyone?

Technically, it's Spring Now

But it still feels like winter around here (a high of 40 yesterday!). So you'd think that an extra layer of warmth would be a good thing when waiting on the bus stop, walking two miles home when the fucking bus doesn't show up, and perhaps for hiking in nature and shit.

But when your boyfriend calls you Chewbacca and cringes away from you in fear, it's probably time to think about shaving your legs.

Anyway, the flowers certainly think that Spring is nigh, for they have appeared in all of their loveliness. But yes! See for yourself!




I really hope that the recent freeze wave didn't annihilate the latest crop of pretty. That would be sad.

(Oh, and I shaved my legs. You're welcome.)

How Do I Covet Thee? Let Me Count the Ways...

Just LOOK at this birdie clock! Look at it! It says, "Hello! It's almost two o'clock! Whimsical two o'clock!"

Why am I not made of money? LIFE ISN'T FAIR.

It's So Very Loud Out There and I Want Chocolate

To start, someone brought in peanut butter Dove miniatures to work yesterday, and I love him/her for it. HAVE YOU TRIED THESE BECAUSE YOU MUST.

They are basically smaller, richer, higher-ender versions of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, and I am not ashamed to admit that though the latter were once my precioussss, they've become too much for me to handle as of late.

Anyway, as I write this, I am at work. I know, I am a horrible employee, but you would be, too, if there was some famous author-type person (who happens to be a University alum, apparently) doing a reading in the auditorium in the museum, which happens to be right across the hall, and there are people on top of people out there.

Witness my plight:

GET AWAY FROM THE GLASS, HEATHENS!

It's loud and people keep banging up against the glass which results in giving me many mini heart attacks (yet another reason that having a glass office is the work of Lucifer), and so therefore I am thinking about chocolate. Everything seems to go all slow-motiony when I think about chocolate.

I never read The Polar Express as a child, because my parents loved me and we read quality shit instead (I have yet to read it). I mean, did you see the previews for that film? That was some intense eye-fuckery, let me tell you.

And no, I don't rather care if you think that I am dead inside, because I'm sure that I would think the same about you if I heard that you never read Where the Wild Things Are or Goodnight Moon, for fuck's sake.

This is creepy, I win, you lose.

"Smeagol will conquer the precioussss world ."

MAKE IT STOP.

This Would Totally Be My Hell

(From xkcd.com)

In His Defense, He Was Stuck in the Same Position For Years...

While watching The Wizard of Oz:
"I hate the Tin Man. He's a fucking asshole."

(He does have a point.)

El Orfanato (The Orphanage)

Laura has returned to her childhood home, an orphanage by the sea, with her husband, Carlos, and their adopted son, Simon. Laura and Carlos plan on turning the large mansion into a home for disabled children, but their plans are interrupted when Simon disappears.

I loved the supernatural elements in this film, from the early thrills and chills, to the devastating turns of the final acts.

The Orphanage was nowhere near as strikingly beautiful - or as devastatingly sad - as del Toro's amazing Pan's Labyrinth, but the depressing muted color of El Orfanato only lends to the suspenseful storyline. The dreariness constantly reminds the viewer of Laura's plight, and allows the film to carry everyone along to the inevitable conclusion.

What struck me most was that while considered (and marketed as) a horror film, there was little to be scared of, yet the viewer is constantly on edge. From the music to the acting to the cinematography, the viewer never forgets that s/he is watching a horror film.

Belen Rueda (Laura) absolutely carries the film. In every single scene, the viewer feels her pain and her horror, her feelings of loss and dread. She is absolutely amazing. When the final scenes are carried out, you not only understand her decisions, but you revel in them.

El Orfanato is not on the same plane as Pan's Labyrinth, no, but it is a fantastic film.

Be Still, My Heart

I know that Father's Day doesn't grace the calendars until June, but I needed an excuse to buy tickets to the symphony, and my dad's birthday isn't until August. The San Francisco Symphony Orchestra, under the direction of famed conductor Michael Tilson Thomas, was coming to Hill Auditorium in Ann Arbor, and they were playing a fabulous concert. In fact, it was the inclusion of a Tchaikovsky piece that really made my decision for me, and I knew that it would be a perfect gift for my dad.

Growing up, and I know that I've mentioned this on many occasions, music was always a presence in our house. From my mom's favorites (John Denver, James Taylor, and Simon and Garfunkel) to my dad's (The Beatles, Cream, Bob Seger), my brother and I grew to love their favorites and made them our own.

But it was classical music that really embedded itself in my soul. From Beethoven to Bach, Vivaldi to Tchaikovsky, I was in love.

I had my preferences, and those were usually the piano and violin concertos. I think that it's the fact that they are such personal pieces - the interpretation of a piece of music by just one person. Plus, they were lovely to dance to in my ballet classes.

Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto in D major remains my favorite to this day, with the first movement eliciting the most interest. It is thought to be the most difficult piece ever written for the violin, and if you watch the clip below, you'll see why. I can't say that I didn't cry just past the six-minute mark, because I did. The second movement, slow and romantic, and the third, fast and almost out of control, cements this concerto as perfection in my heart. It was such an amazing experience, and I think that I will be attending more symphonies in the future. And I won't need a reason this time.

Hold That Pose

Did you guys know that I like birds? I totally do. I love birds. And when I was walking to work the other morning, I heard a lovely cardinal cheep cheeping away.

And then I found her.

"Hi! I'm a pretty cardinal. I posed for Heather.
Because she's awesome. Obviously."

More On the Perils of Public Transportation

I'm still annoyed about the Summer of Ringworm. I mean, how does that happen?

The bus was always the first place that came to mind when brainstorming places I could have picked up the nastiness, but until this morning, I was never completely positive.

And technically, I can't really be positive - not really - unless I was committed to inspecting people, and trust me, I don't want to do that, but I have an idea how it could have happened. Is what I'm saying.

The bus was full of the 7:30 a.m. regulars, including a few... irregulars. I had spied this guy before, and he always elicited the same silent response in my head, "EWWWW." Basically, if you picture the person who most probably left a sweaty ringworm mess on a public bus, and then glanced around, everyone would pick this guy.

And I took a picture.

I took a fucking picture and I am going to show it to you.

I mean, who the hell rides a bus like this? He does this EVERY DAY. If he's not playing a handheld game, he's sleeping. It's so weird.

Once, I almost choked laughing (because I'm an asshole) when he took the time to remove a something - wrapped in a velvet cloth - from his bag, unwrapped that which was within, and proceeded to inspect each and every Magic: The Gathering card in the deck before wrapping them all carefully in the velvet and placing them back in this backpack.

I'm sure he's a lovely person. But he's always draped over every possible plastic surface on the goddamn bus, and it's gross and I hate it.

Twitter Still Sucks

This might be more than a little blasphemous, but I still laughed my ass off:

Jesus on Twitter.

Check out Friday:
"Not the kind of Friday morning I was expecting."

Snerk.

This Morning on "Saved By the Bell..."

"The New Girl"
Season 4, Episode 4

"At first glance, it looks like I'm wearing a denim shirt with jeans,
but I assure you, I'm not."

Zack is threatened by the new girl, Tori. She wears a leather jacket, too much mousse, and speaks her mind. Devil woman. Oh, and this must be one of the episodes when Zack and Kelly aren't dating because Kelly has mysteriously disappeared.

"Yes, I wore this to school. Why do you ask?"

Of course, this is not to be mistaken with the episodes at Malibu Sands, where Stacy Karosi steals his heart and Kelly encourages it because they're "friends." Even though she did totally screw him over with Jeff from The Maxx, but whatever.

When you think about it, they really are quite well-adjusted for "teenagers."

Anyway, Tori and Zack are paired together for a marketing project (Marketing? Now there's a worthless career. "You know, I think that things will sell better if we place them on shelves at EYE level instead of leaving them in the shipping cartons." "By George, you're brilliant!") but she goes and screws up their big presentation by sleeping in and missing most of it. Zack is pissed, even though it all works out (because when doesn't it all work out? Even when Johnny Dakota was trying to get them all to smoke weed, no one caved, it somehow worked out, and we were all treated to a "very special" ending), and blows her off.

Body language = I AM A BITCH.
I am closed off and unapproachable.
Also, my mother didn't teach me not to slouch.

Meanwhile, there's a dance coming up (it must be a Thursday), and Lisa is being a grade-A bitch as head of the dance committee. Everyone bails on her and Tori helps - but only after she brings Lisa down a few pegs, which is a welcome occurrence. Of course, all of this goodwill keeps her up too late that night and causes her to arrive late to the aforementioned super-important marketing presentation.

Tori feels bad that Zack won't talk to her, and it's not because he despises her horrid leather jacket, it's because she makes fun of the girls he dates (Tori has a point, of course, considering Zack's more recent conquests were named Candy and Bambi. Even if Bambi goes on to earn a PhD in Astrophysics at the fictional California University, she still has a stripper name, and that's a hard thing to shake). Lisa instructs her to not make fun of Zack, and then he will like her.

Hmm, Lisa must have learned something from all of those marketing presentations.

Apparently, the editors of Teen Beat thought that we would like this.
They were right - it is on my bedroom wall.
I mean... it was on my wall. Was.

Anyway, I left for work before I could find out what happened, and like all Tori-centric episodes, I have blocked them from my memory. Because she's a bitch, that's why!