"Never Have I Been So Bored By Corn"

I don't know why this comic spoke to me, but seriously, I love it. I'm not sure which kind of road trip driver I am, though. I think that I am more of the NEVER STOP variety, but only rarely. Because normally I'm all about a stop at a farmers' market or apple orchard. Or WINERY.

Clicky for readability!

I was also reminded of Awesome Old Roommate Jenny, because I feel that this would be us. Except that we both would have wanted to stop to see the county's largest mozzarella ball or something. Anything food or drink related, I think. That's just the kind of girls we are.

(And just a reminder that Dinosaur Comics is my daily crack. Check it every day!)

All in the SAME DAY!

OMG a deer!
At noon. On the corner of a busy intersection!

And then, walking to work after lunch?
OMG ducks! And squirrel!

And THEN, walking home from the bus stop?
OMG a bunny!

Basically, it was a pretty awesome day.
You know, nature-wise.

Scenes From My Deck

I took a half day on Friday and had a few hours to kill before an appointment, so I spent some time out on my deck. It was a perfect, sunny, zero-humidity kind of day, and I almost fell asleep out there.

Here are some of the views from my position on the chaise lounge...



Oh, and I'm attempting to grow some basil. It's on the other side of the deck. LOOK AT THE PRETTY:

EAT ME.

Exasperated.

So, Mr. Happy Dinosaur got into the scotch.

Does anyone know the best way to spot-clean a stuffed dinosaur? Because he smells like the town drunk.

What you lookin' at? I am millions of years old.
I CAN HOLD MY LIQUOR, BITCHES.

Zombieland

Hmmm. I wasn't looking for much in Zombieland. All I wanted was to be entertained, and I was.

Of course, after about six minutes, Mike got bored/annoyed and plugged in his iPod. But I enjoyed it!

Zombies are taking over the world, and it's every human for himself. Or herself, as it turns out. We learn the rules for survival quickly via the main character's (Columbus, played by Jesse Eisenburg) voiceover: cardio, to outrun/outplay the zombies; avoiding bathrooms, as zombies take advantage of you at your most vulnerable state; check the back seat, as zombies can sneak up on you; and more. The whole thing is very tongue-in-cheek, which is the attitude you must adopt when life takes on a whole new meaning in a zombie world.

Columbus soon encounters Tallahassee (Woody Harrelson), a fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants kind of guy, who just wants to enjoy his life in a world undone. They are eventually outsmarted by Wichita and Little Rock, sisters who are in the same boat as them - just a little meaner.

Eisenburg charmed me in Adventureland, and I probably wouldn't have bothered with this film if it hadn't been for him. Even the promise of Harrelson acting like, well, Woody Harrelson, wasn't completely appealing. I've liked him since Cheers, and I liked him more when he was on Will & Grace, but his hippie pothead schtick is starting to get old. Luckily, his "character" was more of a badass than I expected.

Zombieland is not twist-filled, and it's pretty predictable, but it has heart and clever, witty dialogue. The acting is good and rarely over-the-top, and the soundtrack is fun.

Of course, there is an awesome cameo appearance that remains the best reason to watch this film, and that cameo is Bill Murray. And that's all I am going to say about that, because his scenes are the best parts of this film.

Zombieland is fun and entertaining, and it's worth a go on Netflix.

Hoarders

My dad is adorable - he keeps everything. And I'm not just saying that to make a point or to sound over-the-top. He really keeps everything. He's not a hoarder like those horrifying people on A&E, but he tends to both worry about not having something (..."if I throw it out, I might need it someday!") as well as attaching sentimental meaning to things. But I do think that if we ever had him on that Clean House show, where people are forced to choose between things to keep, sell, or toss, he would have a complete psychological breakdown.

I was at my parents' house the other day, rummaging through a drawer looking for an acceptable pen (like me, my dad hides the good pens because they are his and are only to be used for important documents and Heaven forbid anyone else touches them because obviously the pens will end up missing, and oh, by the way, they are BIC PENS, which cost like, three cents or something, so, welcome to my nightmare!), and I found a note.

Not just any note. No, this note was of the sort that one would leave for his/her parents when leaving the house for a short, unplanned while.

It said, "Daddy, I'm going to the park with Becky. Love, Heather"

At first glance, I was able to gather a few clues. I clearly wrote this when I lived at home, because I don't know that I would need to leave a note for my dad now.

I know that it had to have been when I was about ten or eleven, because I was only friends with Becky through about sixth grade because she got weird and I was too cool for school and apparently I've just pinpointed the moment when I became the asshole I am today.

Also, it was written on the back of a coupon from one of those Val-pak mailers, and the coupon was for a store in our hometown that hasn't existed for years.

Finally, when I was ten years old, it was 1990.

Currently, what is the year? 2010. DO THE MATH, PEOPLE.

Sigh.

So basically, what I am trying to say is that I come by my behavior honestly.

I was cleaning out a box of crap, because I KEEP EVERYTHING TOO, OMG I AM MY FATHER, and I found these. I don't know if you remember the episode of South Park, but it was one when all of the kids were put on Ritalin and Cartman kept seeing a Christina Aguilera monster. I was in college at the time and I remember making some CAMs of my own. And now I have found them once again.

Here is the South Park monster:



And here is my creation:

For some reason, I was convinced that the CAM had wings.

Also, I made more than one:

One of the CAMs has different hair extensions!

Anyway, I think that I've had these long enough. They've been with me for about ten years, and I think that it's time I just let go. If anyone wants them, let me know. Otherwise, they're going for a trip. TO THE GARBAGE. (Which, coincidentally, is where the CAM's career seems to have gone. But at least she hasn't shaved her head. Yet.)

Ha Ha Ha PSYCH

Yeah, I didn't do anything this weekend, unless watching like, ten episodes of Lost counts as "doing something."

But I was summoned to a certain place for my cousin's son's second birthday party (changed at the last minute from my aunt's house to a place of unholy terror).

Here are some hints:



So... see you soon...? !! ??!?!

Almost Caught Up

I have all these posts that I started and never finished and all I want to do is PLEASE YOU PEOPLE, because what else do I have to live for, anyway, and I am almost caught up, but there is still a good amount of editing to do, trust me. You wouldn't want me to post the following:

"And then I went to the grocery store and got the pretzels and ice cream."

When it could be something like this:

"On my way home, I stopped at the market for my latest addictions (besides the crack): creamsicles and butter snap pretzels, which, as it turns out, aren't actually all that bad for you. I can't say the same for the fucking creamsicles, though. Dammit."

You see? Flowery and descriptive plus swearing? Awesome.

So that's what this weekend is for! Writing reviews of several films and books that should have been written months ago, and reworking the insanity that my brain cooked up as I typed in a stream-of-consciousness kind of way. Well, the weekend is also for drinking by Mike's pool for two days straight while he golfs. If this is not the life, then tell me WHAT IS? I am asking you. You people.

BUT FIRST. I saw a sweet little bird on the side of the road when I was driving today*, so when I was stuck at a red light (for what seemed like eternity plus three days), I snapped a picture.

Hello, I am a KILLDEER.
My name suggests that I am a murderous bird of rage!
Except I'm not really.

*In full disclosure, I am posting this on June 24th, but backdating it to the 19th because I am insanely OCD like that, and things need to be IN ORDER or else I probably won't be able to sleep and such, and you wouldn't want that, now would you, internet friends?

It's Not My Fault that I Still Actually Like Childhood Foods

(I only eat Maruchan. Top Ramen is shit.)
(I also only date guys who drink Snapple.)

I love ramen noodles. Love. Of course, I only know how to make soup. My friend Gabe can make ramen in all kinds of neat ways, and I should really ask him about that.

Well, I also love fish sticks. I grew up eating them. With green beans and apple juice, it's basically a perfect meal. I know that I love to cook gourmet-like most of the time, and that this probably sounds ridiculous, but give me fish sticks and it's like a trip back in time.

So I was fucking around on CNN this morning and saw a recall for SpaghettiOs and now I am sad. I LOVE THEM and I know that I had some the other weekend (I keep some at Mike's to keep me from going out and getting take out. It's basically the same thing anyway, but at least I'm saving gas money.)

Why do I love these foods? What is wrong with me? I go on and on to people (mostly Mike, the poor guy) about eating as few processed foods as possible, but these are guilty pleasures, I suppose.

Anyway, they're trying to kill me. Maybe I should take the hint.

Evil in a can.

AND THEN. And then I got an automated call from Kroger, saying that they were pretty sure I had purchased a can (or six) (or whatever) of SpaghettiOs and that I should definitely NOT EAT ANY because the meatballs may have been undercooked and I COULD DIE.

Okay, the message lady didn't say that I was going to die. She did say that I should bring any cans back to Kroger for a full refund. Mike thinks I'm insane, but I want my $1.69 back!

Oh, and by the way? It's super awesome that I already ate some.

Damn me and my zest for childhood food memories.

Temporary Jobs... and You!

I have a great job. It's my dream job, really. Well. It would be my dream job if it were full time and allowed me to pay for things like rent. And food. And wine. Until it converts to full time - which probably won't be for another six months to a year - I've been working part-time temp jobs at the University.

Temp jobs are amazing. You never really do anything important (please see: coffee necklaces), there is a HUGE amount of downtime, and you almost feel guilty for accepting money in exchange for showing up.

One of the most satisfying things about temping are the times when they discover that you know how to do something correctly, and they go batshit insane. Basically, they are amazed that you know how to turn on a computer. When you reveal your knowledge of basic computer systems and programs, it's like a religious experience for them. In one temp job, I printed a page of labels and you would have thought that I'd found a cure for cancer.

If you receive and complete a project in the same day, they are beside themselves. BESIDE THEMSELVES.

It's a bit of an ego boost, to be honest, but I still feel like a lump just sitting around for four hours a day. I feel guilty that they are paying me to do nothing. I feel annoyed that I am at work at 7:45 in the morning when I could be at home in bed. I feel like I am only there to fill a chair. But it's really easy to get over all of those things, because there are fun things, too!

One woman has her phone's ring tone set as a woman's voice. Instead of a spine-jarring ring, it says, "Are you there? Are you there? Are you there?" It makes me laugh every time, until about the third ring. I start to get annoyed. What's even better is that she NEVER seems to be at her desk. "Are you there? Are you there? ARE YOU THERE?"

Additionally, at temp jobs, there seems to be food around all the time. Today, someone brought in bagels and donuts and muffins JUST BECAUSE.

It's worth it.