I am home sick today. I got a sore throat before I went to bed last night, then BOOM! I got woken up in the night by soreness in my throat!! AHHHHH! Painful sore soreness!!
It's making me think about that old commercial for some type of sore throat medicine, and it was a little girl in bed, with the blankets pulled up to her neck, and she was chanting "It'll hurt if I swallow, it'll hurt if I swallow, it'll hurt if I..." (girl swallows painfully) "MOMMY!". Jeez that was a great commercial.
Now I'm off to watch "Cheating Death" stories on Montel. Some dude is talking about a snake "sinkin' in". I don't know what the snake was sinkin' in to, but I'm bout to find out. Aside from my throat hurting, I love staying home! WOOOOO!

Before I begin this story, let it be known that my sister is, and always will be accident prone. The prosecution rests. When we moved to Arizona, Lisa and I used to share an apartment, and it wasn't much but we called it home. In the spring of 2000, we decided to part ways. She planned to move in with Tom, and I planned to move in with nobody. I rented a one-br apartment in the same complex, which made moving really easy. My moving day came first, and I had two of my friends, Dan and John, come over to help me. Everything was going smoothly, except for John bitching about how heavy all my stuff was, but overall it was a successful move. UNTIL WE MOVED THE COUCH.
John and Dan lifted the couch and walked to the door, but it would not fit through the doorway. They tried to turn it and get it through that way, but it was caught on something. I craned my neck around and saw it was stuck on a little wreath that we had on our front door. I told them what was wrong and went to pull it off, but Lisa shouted, "I'll get it!". Before I could say anything, she was barreling towards the open (or what she thought was the open) screen door. It happened so fast no one had time to stop her, we all just had to watch in horror as this vicious turn of events transpired. Lisa ran right through that screen door like a fucking linebacker on Superbowl Sunday. She fell straight through and onto our small metal bistro table on the patio, the legs of which bent and collapsed, throwing her head first into a cement wall. As the dust cleared, Lisa was just laying limply, face down in the rubble, and she didn't even move or say anything for a good 30 seconds.
Finally she stirred, and we offered up a stunned,"Are you okay?", to which she answered "NO!" and got up and went to her room in tears, saying she wasn't helping anymore. Dan and I were sympathetic, but John's first instinct was to laugh at the whole scene. I yelled at him for being an insensitive dickhead, but deep down I really couldn't blame him.
Lisa laughs about it now, so I guess she's okay. But that table was never the same.
The end.

Well Thanksgiving is this Thursday. I don't know about you, but it's a weird holiday. When I was little it was pretty cool, because I got to watch the parade on tv, and eat all day. Come to think of it, why was the parade cool? Santa's at the end, sure, but that part was always sort of anti-climactic. I don't really know why watching marching bands from Anytown, USA and cheesy actors from crummy tv shows singing oldies while riding on a giant moving turkey held my young interest. Kids, huh? How about 'em?
Anyway, I'm ready to eat and spend my money at the Thanksgiving sales going on in every store in the world. And I am thankful for my family, my awesome boyfriend, cable tv, mashed potatoes, the cast of "Golden Girls", my gray puma sneakers, Sweettarts and the sound cats make when they chew dry food. Happy Thanksgiving, Suckas.

Well, well, well. Guess who's back? If you guessed Martha Washington, you are wrong.
It's me, Trish, back from a long hiatus from blogging. Not a voluntary hiatus, I feel compelled to mention. See what happened is this, I work in a small office of all women and one man. A while back I went on Man's computer and found lots and lots of porn. Porntastic. I should also mention I am the office manager, not just some nosy bitch. Anyway, I talked to Man, and told him I would not report it if he stopped doing it. At work at least. He agreed and life was peachy for a short while, until I found porn again. I went to my boss, who basically came to Man's defense (probably because she is one of those women who believe men are always right, and thou shalt never question Them.). I left it alone but last month one of the other girls in the office went onto his computer and was bombarded with images of vaginas and cumshots. Not surprised, was I. She screamed at my boss that she would not work with a pervert, and that she better do something NOW! So do something she did (why am I talking like Yoda, by the way?), my boss not only took away Man's internet, she also took everyone else's internet away, and everyone's phone priveleges. I am sooooo pissed because I don't smoke and I don't get my nails done, so therefore I don't get any breaks. I just have to sit there and work constantly. Poor me. Seriously it's very strenuous work I do, and without a few momentary sanity breaks to blog or read the news, it's very hard. My eyes and back hurt from being hunched over sorting little teeny tiny sapphires all day. Not only that, but I'm also our company's web designer, so just how the hell do I work on the website without the internet?? Grr. I can still email though, but only if my emails are deemed appropriate by the restrictions on my PC, so WOW. Thanks Stupid Boss. If anyone knows of a job for me, I would appreciate it. I am a really hard worker, and I'm smart and I know how to do lots of stuff, and I promise not to eat anything stinky for lunch!
So now I gots da internet at home and I'm gonna blog the shit out of...ummmm, this internet! YEAH!! Watch out World Wide Web Weenies!!

I guess subconsciously this Roy(as in 'Sigfried and...') thing has me runnin' scared. Thankfully I'm not often around tigers or lions or anything. At least not THIS week. But last night I had a dream that I went to the zoo and got attacked by a thing that was a cross between a lion and a baboon. Sure, laugh now, but it was soo scary. I swear to god.

It's been a while since I updated, I've been having trouble with that lately. I log in and get ready to type, with my fingers poised over the ASDF-JKL; keys, but my mind is just blank. Maybe it's been the stress of the past week, I don't know. Anyway, here's what happened.
In case you are new to the blog, I have a two cats, a 4-yr old grey cat named Riley, and a 9 month old orange kitten named Fizzie. Fizzgig is his full name, he's named after the little growling goblin thing in "The Dark Crystal". Anyway, Fizzie has the wierdest personality of any cat I've ever met. He likes to make messes and get into everything and wrestle with his older brother. Riley doesn't mind, I think he's happy having someone to play with and take care of. In fact Riley often carries toys and strings in his mouth to give to Fizzie, and gives him baths by licking him until his fur stands straight up. They're a good pair.
So last Thursday night I got to stop home from work for an hour before I had to go out and meet the people from work for dinner. I was really tired and feeling totally lazy, so I called and cancelled. My boss didn't mind, and so I planned for a night on the couch, watching "Friends" or something and eating spaghetti. Little did I know my night was about to take a turn for the worse.
Lisa called and we started talking about how we wanted to go to Old Navy. We like to shop a lot. We decided it was early enough to go, so she was on her way to pick me up and I went to brush my teeth. Fizzie almost always sits on the sink and watches me brush, and he likes to bat at the water coming out of the faucet. So I heard him come a-runnin' when I turned on the faucet, but when he tried to jump up on the counter, he missed. I was worried because he could make that jump in his sleep, something must be wrong. I turned to look at him and noticed he was limping. I dropped everything and picked him up, and as soon as I did he screamed in pain. I put him on the counter and started checking him over but when I got to his right hind leg, I saw what was wrong. The back of his leg had been torn open, and I could clearly see his muscles and bone. I think I actually screamed, and then stood there as his sad little face looked at me like he was saying "Help.". I had no idea what to do. I didn't want to put him on the floor, I didn't know if I should try to wash off his wound or something, but I looked at it again and it looked about an inch and a half long, so cleaning it probably wouldn't help.
Luckily Lisa was supposed to pick me up right about then, so I ran outside to her car and asked her to come in, something was really wrong with Fizz. She came in and looked at Fizzie, and decided he needed a vet right away. Oh yeah, a VET!! So we got the little guy into his carrier and took him to a 24-hour emergency animal hospital. They said he definitely needed stitches, and wanted to know how it happened. I had no idea, there was no blood anywhere or anything sharp laying around. I asked if maybe my other cat could have done it but the vet said it was too clean of a cut, it had to be something very sharp. $450 and many hours later we finally got out of the vet and took him home. So now the poor thing has a sewn up leg and one of those collars on the looks like a cone, so he can't lick himself. He keeps walking into shit and had a hard time eating and drinking because of it, but he's feeling better now. I still don't know what happened and probably will never know.
Oh, I did find some blood, in the center of my bedspread of all places. And there's no blood anywhere else, and nothing sharp anywhere in, around, or under my bed. Maybe he was abducted by aliens, who carelessly dropped him off in the center of my bed! AHHHH! ALIENS!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.....

So I've decided that my new favorite word is buoyant.
" \Buoy"ant\, a. Having the quality of rising or floating in a fluid; tending to rise or float; as, iron is buoyant in mercury."
Here are various ways I plan to use this word on a regular basis:
I am feeling rather buoyant today.
I eat plenty of salt to make myself more buoyant in water.
The sprinkles are buoyant on top of the ice cream.
My doctor says I need to lower my cholesterol AND my buoyancy.
My new favorite word is buoyant.
I'd like to be more buoyant in the future.

And there you have it. Buoyancy.

Last night Kane and I went to a free screening of "Kill Bill" at Scottsdale Fashion Square Mall. It was really crowded, the line stretched down most of the length of the entire mall. We got there 1 1/2 hours before the movie started, and were about in the middle of the line, right in front of the Louis Vitton store. We got to stare at a larger-than-life poster of a bitchy looking J.Lo in pink leather boots while eyeing the wierd movie geeks ahead of us in line. There was a guy with a Jedi braid. No shit, right? Yeah, that guy's gonna be a virgin for a looooong time. And then there was a fat guy in a loud black & blue button-down shirt, and he looked like a thinner version of Harry Knowles from AICN. Then another guy in front of us with a long wavy ponytail and karate-style pants stood there with his arms folded, with a determined look on his face that said to me,"I wish Uma Thurman was my girlfriend...". Behind us was this black lady who kept leaving the line and asking us to hold her spot. I was getting mad because she basically got to go off and shop and eat while everyone else had to wait, and I think it's pretty nervy. Finally the line started moving and right as we got up to the theater, sure enough there was the lady, waiting at the entrance and looking for us to jump back in line. To quote the guy behind us,"Fuckin' weak, Dude.".
We got into the theater and there were all these hip-hop guys from 92.3, because the radio station sponsored the event. They had a mic set up and kept saying shit like,"Yo yo yo y'all ready for a free movie or what??". I'll tell you what I was NOT ready for, I was NOT ready to listen to Chingy blaring in the theater while the sweaty fat guy next to me loudly chewed on a burger and fries and informed both the fat girl he was with and myself that "Kung Fu is sweet!". Not as sweet as that dozen donuts you probably inhaled for lunch, sir.
After a short trivia game where people won 92.3 t-shirts for knowing the names of other Quentin Tarantino movies, "Kill Bill" finally started. I really liked it, it was better than I thought it would be. But no one was lying if they told you it's the most violent and gory movie ever. The only thing was that towards the end there were some really long pauses in the middle of the fights, and when you've been sitting for two hours and you have to pee, you don't appreciate them too much. Other than that, it was a fun campy movie, with lots of amputations and decapitations and spraying blood. Good stuff!
Everyone clapped when it was over. I like that.

So this guy was in the office this afternoon, photocopying some stuff. He doesn't work here but he is a friend of my boss's. He is a nice enough guy, but he's sort of wierd. He's very small and effeminate, and extremely annoying. He is getting married in two weeks and we are making his wedding ring, and he calls every day (no exaggeration) and asks,"Is it ready yet??" or "I don't know, do you think the band should be WIDER??" or "I changed my mind, I don't want that ring anymore, I want something completely different, can you custom make a ring in a week?". He is the most picky pain in the butt guy, but sometimes on a good day he can be alright.
Anyway he was standing around telling Andrea how he saw Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young in concert once, and Joni Mitchell opened for them. I walked by, and said,"Joni Mitchell? I could drink a case of her!!"(naturally referencing her song 'Case of You'. Duh.). Well this guy just completely lost it! He started laughing like it was the funniest shit ever said! Things just suddenly felt awkward to me, and I looked at Andrea, who also looked puzzled as to what was so hilarious. I didn't know what to do because he kept laughing at my lame joke, so I just walked away into my office and shut the door.
He left at some point I guess, cuz he's not here now. Next time I'm gonna tell him the one about how Tom Jones's concert was "Not Unusual"!!!! That's one's a real crowd pleaser!!

Gold teeths is hard to come by. Fake ones, that is. Kane is being Jack Sparrow (POTC) for Halloween, and he needs some gold teefs to complete the illusion. So yesterday I had a day off of work to take Fizzie to the vet to get neutered. (Awww, poor ball-less kitten!). Anyway, while he was at the vet, I went to Buffalo Exchange. In case you don't know what that is, it's a really trendy store where you can sell or trade your old clothes, IF they are deemed "cool" enough by the various gay men and anorexic girls who look down on you, umm, I mean work there. So I brought a couple of old t-shirts and jeans, which they bought surprisingly. Usually they look at my old crap and pull it apart, telling me why they don't want my stuff in earshot of whoever's around, and it's pretty embarassing to have them loudly point out a mustard stain on the crotch of your old pants. Anyway, Buffalo Exchange is really overpriced, considering the majority of what they sell is all old and used. They do have some new stuff, and yesterday they happened to have some new Halloween stuff. I was killing time by going through their endless supply of mullet wigs and Austin Powers teeth, when a glimmer of gold caught my eye. It was a snap-on gold tooth, and fortunately it was in a sealed package, NOT previously used by some "funny" abercrombie guy who went as a pimp last Halloween, and had some of his skinny blond abercrombie girlfriends dress up as "sexy" prostitutes. Yeah, get used to that costume, girls, prepare for what your drunk-ass future holds! But I digress....
I was pretty excited to find it, because I'd been going around to stores for a while trying to find some gold teef for Kane, and it just so happened it was the last one there! SCORE! The only thing was, it cost $8. Pretty costly, since it's really just a piece of gold foil, but whatever. Nothing's too good for my baby! So I bought it and gave it to Kane last night and he tried it on, and guess what? The fucking thing doesn't work. You'd think for $8 you'd be able to get a fake gold tooth that stays on your teeth, but apparently not. It stays in if he keeps his teeth clenched, but how's a nigga supposed to bob for apples or drink rum straight from the bottle like that??
Oh well, maybe he can glue it on with a lil' Dentu-grip(TM).
And just in case you were wondering, Fizzie's fine. He's currently recovering in my bathroom, since there's less stuff he can try to jump up on in there. It was funny because he was still all groggy when I got him home yesterday, and when he tried to take a drink from a bowl of water, he misjudged the distance and dunked his whole face in there.
>^..^< "meow!"

That's wierd, my computer can't find my blog page. Or Lisa's. I hate when I know I'm typing in the write address but it just goes to the domain lander page, and offers to search for women's designer fragrances for me instead. No, thanks.
So yesterday I got in a car accident. Not my fault!! I was driving into my apartment complex and far ahead of me at the turn of the road was a black Jetta that was just sitting there. I slowed down, since it wasn't moving and I couldn't drive around it, when all of a sudden the girl starts backing up. I backed up a little, but I couldn't go too far because I would have ended up out in traffic. I stopped my car, as this person is still inching backward. Then I guess she just decided to lean on the gas, because she started speeding backwards. I started honking my horn and shouting (as if that could help when honking obviously doesn't) but this dumb bitch wails right into me anyway! She hit the front of my car so hard that the cd's under my stereo flew into the backseat and passenger's seat and my car got knocked back a few feet. I was so mad, upset, shaken, etc.
I turned off my car and got out and so did the other girl, and the first thing out of her mouth is,"Oh my god, did you just hit me??!?!".
WHAT??? Are you serious? You're the one flying backwards at top speed without looking in your mirror and you think I hit YOU?? Luckily and miraculously there's really no damage to my car, only a few scrapes of black paint. Hers had a lot of my red paint and was pretty dented up. I was ready to punch this bitch out but she was all upset and apologizing, and she said that this was her second car accident this week. Hmmmm, doesn't that tell you something? I didn't bother exchanging info with her since there was no damage, but the other reason was I was scared she'd try to turn this around on me somehow. She seemed like that type, especially when the first thing she said was "Did you just hit me?". But I found out her name and where she works, and if ANYTHING goes wrong with my car, I'm coming to get you Barbara.

I just read Lisa's blog about Pennsylvania Dutch Country, and I just have to say that that was one of the worst family vacations we ever took, and that includes the time we stayed at a South Jersey campground totally infested with biting flies. It wasn't like we were fighting or anything like that, it was just so boring. Even our parents looked bored, it was so obvious they were faking interest in how quilts are made. We went on a tour of some house which was set up like a traditional Amish household, and I remember my dad saying just loud enough for us to hear,"I wonder where they go when they have to make a doody? (Insert fart noise here)", and my mom going, "Tssssss" (this is her noise of disapproval) as Lisa and I had the first genuine laugh since setting foot in Amish country.
I remember it was all grey and depressing outside when we went to that restaurant, and the food being so bad I can still taste it 15 years later. There was a huge bowl of peas in front of me and they were drenched in some unidentified gelatinous goo, and my mom kept telling me to try some. Ugh, regular peas are bad enough. Me and Lisa couldn't wait to go home and watch "Heathers" and daydream about hanging out with Christian Slater. Surely Christian Slater wouldn't be caught dead in Amish Country.
****This just in: ACTOR CHRISTIAN SLATER FOUND DEAD IN PENNSYLVANIA DUTCH AMISH COUNTRY. TWO GIRLS FROM NEW JERSEY MOURN THE STAR, WHO CHOKED ON A PIECE OF MAPLE LEAF CANDY WHILE ON TOUR OF OLD-TIMEY BARN.

I'm really glad that someone tried to cut off David Blaine's water supply to that little box he's living in. Apparently David got a "rude awakening" when someone "climbed" up and tried to "hack through" the water hose. I hope this story doesn't shatter any illusion he might have been attempting, like "Watch as I create water from the thin air inside my enclosed chamber!" Then he'd drink water from his hand (out of the tube that he has weaved through the sleeve in his jacket) and all the people would should "Hallelujah! All praise David!!" Then the queen would knight him and he'd get some Grade-A tail from some british models.
I actually think David Blaine is a piece of crap. He is not a magician, like Houdini or TBS's fabulous"The Masked Magician", but rather like he's auditioning for "Jackass". I was praying he'd freeze to death in that block of ice last year, but unfortunately he made it out alive and well, just in time to nail Fiona Apple. And that whole cutting-off-his-ear stunt he did at that press conference was not spectacular or awe-inspiring, it was just stupid and gross. I could be an amazing "magician" too if I had a team of special FX makeup artists to do all the work for me. I liked when Johnny Knoxville let the baby alligator bite his nipple better. Now that was magical!!
Also, why did D.B. choose to go to England for this pointless stunt? Did he figure the rest of the world doesn't make fun of America enough yet, so maybe he should bring his stupidity to another country and show them, "It's not just a rumor, I really AM this retarded!" I bet he think's when he's done with this trick he'll have a shot with Paris Hilton. Isn't that really why he does this shit anyway? So he can hang out with actors and rock stars and trick innocent dumb models into believing he has talent too?
I hope he gets killed this time. Maybe someone will cut off his air supply. Not "I'm all Out of Love" Air Supply, his oxygen so he can't breathe and he suffocates to death. That'd be a stunt I'd want to see. Does he take requests?

I am all alone in the office, for now anyway. Everyone called and said they were gonna be late. Well not me, dammit! I got up exactly 5 minutes before I had to leave, in fact I got dressed in such a hurry that I'm wearing a pajama shirt today. The reason I slept a little late was due to Fizzie (my kitten).
I lock him out of my room at night because otherwise he jumps all over me and meow's with his little scratchy baby voice, and I needs my sleep y'all. But he managed to wake me up around 5 anyway, because he just discovered that he can get mom mad enough to open her door if he claws at the rug. He cries at the same time he does it, and after a while I can't take any more. Plus I lost my security deposit on my last apartment because my other cat tore up the rug. Not this time!! So I got up and let him in, and he ran into my room and jumped right up on the bed, and settled down into the warm spot where I had just been sleeping, and quickly closed his eyes. With a tired groan I slid his little bread-loaf body over and climbed into bed next to him, just praying he would let me fall back to sleep and not get the sudden urge to attack me. Kittens are finicky like that. But I guess Fizz was pretty content, because he put his little face next to my big face and started licking my nose and forehead. He likes to give kissses a lot, but sometimes it starts to hurt, because cats have very abrasive tongues, and even if you push him away he still creeps back over and goes back to kissin'. Kane can confirm this, since he is Fizzie's favorite person to kiss. One time I had to stop him while Kane was sleeping because I didn't want him to wake up with little bloody patches on his forehead. Anyway, I pushed him away and rolled over, but soon I felt his little paws on my side as he climed over me and proceeded to lick my right eyelid. I picked him up and put him back where he was, and rolled back over, then I felt him snuggle into the back of my neck. I think that's about where I fell asleep again, because I woke up to my alarm screaming "My Own Worst Enemy" or whatever that awful Pink song is called. I turned off the alarm and looked over at Fizz, and had to laugh at what I saw. He was fast asleep, but he had a bunch of my hair sicking out of his mouth. I got nervous for a second that I had a big bald spot on the back of my head, but no, it's all present and accounted for. I guess he was chewing on my hair or something while I was sleeping and a few strands came loose. I tried to pull the hair out of his mouth carefully, but he woke up anyway and sneezed, then fell right back to sleep.

When I was little I remember listening to the radio in the car on the way to school, and there was always a word that the DJ said that I didn't understand. I thought about it a lot back then when I was in 1st or 2nd grade, and it didn't make any sense. I was too embarassed to ask my mom or the teacher or anything, but when we learned about dictionaries, it was one of the first words I looked up. It wasn't in there. This continued to confuse me, but as I got older I forgot about it completely. Then about 3 or 4 years ago I was listening to the radio, and it all came flooding back to me. The DJ said,"...and that was the traffic report for today, stay tuned for sports and weather next.". So THAT'S what they've been saying all these years, not "weathernecks". I felt both totally proud that I had finally solved this conundrum, yet at the same time incredibly stupid because it took me that long to figure it out. I guess the only excuse I can think of is that the DJ's in Jersey on CBS.FM talk too goddamn fast and don't pronunciate clearly. So it's either that or I'm dumb. And for some reason in my youth I associated the term "weathernecks" with Rubbermaid garbage cans. I can't imagine why now, but it made sense back then.
Maybe I shouldn't have blogged about this. This is embarassing.

Did you know that Sophia Loren won an Oscar for a role she played in a language that was completely foreign to her? I think that's pretty sweet. I have enough trouble making up spanish words when I make fun of Jennifer Lopez. Sophia Loren also has really bad stage fright and has never performed on a stage. So she may have that Oscar, but I got her beat in the stage department. I've been in a bunch of plays. What's that Sophia?? You're in awe of my talents? Well, who could blame you, honey.
I found this crap out on IMDB.com, I love that website. I go on there and look up random movies and read all the trivia and bloopers and stuff, it's a great way to waste some time. On Saturday night I stayed over at Kane's place, and we spent almost all night reading movie reviews. Anyone who makes a profile can submit movie reviews and some of them are so hilarious. My favorite guy is grandmastersexy, who calls every low-budget B-movies "Independent films". He also likes to talk about T & A (titties and ass, for those not 'in the know' about the slang), and he had really bad run-on sentences which are fun to read aloud in a monotone voice to your boyfriend when you're both a little buzzed. Let's see what he has to say about, oh..."Jason X":
"Well to start things off,I saw it at 5:00 PM...not the best time to go as far as wanting to see the draw attendance....the theater was about 2/4 full and everyone was having a good time with the comedic parts.After the movie i saw a few kids saying,it sucked and it wasnt like the others...but they obviously dont know some reasons about why it was made.As for me,i thought it was very enjoyable,better then i expected...gore and kills were GREAT and VERY CREATIVE! T&A was very high as far as sexual relations and scenes were concerned,only a few boob shots,but lots of makeout scenes and sex related humor.Overall,very good,and way better then i ever would have expected it to be.Highly Recommended To See In Theaters rather then video,it gives you a much better vibe.I will be seeing this 2 or 3 more times in theaters,which lets you know even more its entertaining."
I wonder if he has anything to say about Leprechaun 2?
"Leprechaun 2 is the sequel to the 1990 film with jennifer anniston of friends...and is surprisingly good and watchable..who would think a film with a lerpechaun killer would be good?Me...this film surprised me,the only one of the leprechaun series with a plot when the lep needs a bride and finds her but people get in his way which p***es him off and his gold is missing...so now hes not stopping the blood and not starting to leave!"
Wow!!! Sounds like a must see to me!!!
There's another guy who writes great reviews, and at first I couldn't tell if he was serious or not since there are so many many morons who write about how great "From Justin to Kelly" was. This guy made us laugh so hard, especially when he talks about Rob Schneider.
My Boyfriend's Back, 1993
"This movie is so hilarious it's not funny. I crapped my pants from laughing so hard and was afraid to stand up because everyone would see it. A bumbling fartknocker dies and he still wants to go on a date with this girl so he comes back from the dead to do it!! I know what you're thinking and the answer is yes, it is as funny as it sounds. It was almost as good as Beethoven 3, or even police academy 6!!!!! The only thing that would be sweeter than this movie would be a remake of The Godfather, with the comic genius Rob Schneider as Sonny, and that would be pretty sweet. In conclusion see this sweet movie because it's one of the the sweetest movies about dead guys coming back from the grave to go on a date with girls of all time. "
Beethoven's 4th, 2001
"If Ludwig Van Beethoven had lived to see such artistic genius be created with a character with his name, he would have wept of joy. For this film is so sweet that i'm gonna crap myself. an incredible performance by digby the talking dog as beethoven is just one of the many highlights of this event. Beethoven seems to start acting strange, he's not up to his usual schemes, and judge reinhold (in an incredible performance as the father) wonders what is wrong. They soon find out that beethoven has been switched by a better fartknocking dog. The sorrow that the family goes through is shocking and unbelievably real. I also think Rob Shneider would be excellently cast as the father, or any role. Also the film did not have as many fart jokes as i would have hoped for. We all know that what holds together films is the fart jokes, and i believe that Rob Schneider could have provided enough fart jokes for our satisfaction. But despite the lack of Rob Schneider and fart jokes, this movie was a great ride with an ending so powerful that it changed me as a human being. "
Extreme Ops, 2002
"Every once in a while you see a movie so amazing that it has a place in your heart forever. Every once in a very long while you see a movie that is so good that it changes your life forever. In my life I have come across several of those movies, but when i went to see extreme ops, i viewed a movie that is so incredible, that there should be an entire religion formed around it. Throughout the duration of this movie, I got so excited that I crapped my pants at least 6 times. But can you blame me? Here's the plot: A group of killer Xtreme sports stars, are filming a commercial on a mountain, but than all of a sudden they catch this fartknocking criminal of war on tape! The guy finds out, and starts trying to catch them, so to escape they have to bust some chillin moves down the mountain on their boards and stuff! This movie is so good that if Rob Schneider showed up in it I would probably die because of how good it would be!! The plot is so original, you take Xtreme sports and you already have an incredible movie, you add a criminal of war you get the messiah of all movies. In conclusion if you don't join a religion devoted to this movie, you are a terrible person."
These reviews are so awesome theat I almost crapped my pants. The only thing that would be better is if Rob Schneider wrote them. Oh man, WOW! And anyone who credits Judge Reinhold with "an incredible performance" definitely has their head on straight!! Finally Judge gets the recognition he so richly deserves.

HEY! A new post!! Don't get too excited, I don't really have much to say. I was re-reading my last post, and I really sound very bitter, I think. I'm not really, it's just that people look at me like I just bunny-punched their mom in the eye when I say I don't like the Beatles or Sex and the City. Everyon'e got their own opinion. Opinions are like assholes, if there ain't no poop comin' out, you need more fiber. Isn't that how the ol' saying goes??
I would like to now take this time to make a public outcry to my big sister, Lisa. (As opposed to my other, imaginary big sister, Eunice) When we went to Clown Day, at Rawhide (check out Lisa's blog for the details of that event), she brought her video camera. Lisa, Kane and I took turns filming some of the wierd scenes and strange goins-on, all pretty buzzed up from the 100+ degree heat and the margaritas. We filmed clowns, crying children, and the occasional gangly teenager trying to ride the mechanical bull. I would very much like to see this footage, so I ask you dear sister, put that shit on a regular video tape already, you're killing me over here. I need to know if the camera was rolling right after sundown, when we passed the depressed looking girl in the saloon-gal outfit walking a camel on a leash. And I said,"Hey! That girl's got a bad case of CAMELTOE!", only the alcohol made my voice a bit louder than I intended it to be. She looked pretty pissed. I need to relive that magic again. Please Lisa. If not for me, do it for the children.

Oh, one more thing I forgot to add, although I'm supposed to like this beacuse I'm FEMALE and live in America.
#5. Sex and the City. Excuse me while I fart on this show.
I hope when this show is over I never have to see these four women again. And Sarah Jessica Parker looks like a lion. Yeah, I said it, what??

There are certain things that everyone in their 20's and 30's living in America are supposed to like. I really don't get it, beacuse I do not always appreciate these things. I'm sure that almost everyone reading this particular blog will disagree with me, but that's only natural. So here goes just a few:
#1. The Beatles. I don't get it. I really think their music sucks. They were four ugly guys from the U.K. who started "The British Invasion", beginning with their cheesy, light-hearted pop music, ending up with really long, trippy, rambling songs that let the world know "Hey, we've discovered LSD.". Now I can understand you liking the Beatles(excuse me, THE BEATLES, since it's a Holy diety I am talking about here) if you lived through that time period. You were there in the 60's and it must have been a flowery, tie-dyed experience for you, but what's up with the people my age? Guaranteed if you go into any dorm room in any college in America, or any small apartment occupied by a 20-something gen-X-er (is that still the term for us?), you will find either an "Abbey Road" or "Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" poster tacked to the wall all crookedly.(Posters are cooler when hung crooked. Look at the set of any teen movie if you doubt me.) Oh, and there will also be a "Yellow Submarine" or "Hard Day's Night" DVD in their collection. Right next to "Hackers" and "Pulp Fiction".
#2. "Charlie and The Chocolate Factory". People will probably send me hate email over this one. EVERYONE loves this movie. I watched it when I was a kid, and I thought it was okay, but as I got older I liked it less and less. Charlie is played by the most boring, uncharismatic actor in the whole world, and something about the quality of film and sound, and the colors in this movie make me depressed. The scene where Charlie and Gramps float up to the fans used to really scare me, and the Oompa Loompas. They look like psychotic little murderous monsters, and I am pretty sure they raped that Violet girl after they rolled her out of the room. Scary! I am hoping the new one that Tim Burton is making is going to be good, especially since Johnny Depp is playing Wonka. I'm sure it will be. I mean, Roald Dahl HIMSELF hated "Charlie and The Chocolate Factory".
#3. The Real World or Road Rules on MTV. I get upset if I'm around these types of people at the movies or at the mall, why would I want to watch a show about them? This is really the first reality(and I use that term loosely) show on tv, and just in case you have never seen it, the cast is always the same: Drunk frat guy, slutty blond girl, slutty brunette girl, drunk frat guy #2, angry outspoken black girl and gay guy. They live in a nice house that they don't deserve, and go out and get drunk and hook up with each other and fight about absolutley everything. Road Rules is the exact same thing, except they are on a bus or a camper or something, and they sometimes stop at a place and do some wierd stunts. And everyone I talk to says, "Oh, I don't like that show either, EXCEPT for Season 3, when blah blah blah, or season 5, when yadda yadda yadda....". By the way, where does MTV get off still calling themselves MUSIC TELEVISION? Whatever happened to that pesky old "music" anyway? Oh, well, I'm off to watch Punk'd...
#4. Josh Hartnett, Ben Affleck, Vin Diesel., Russell Crowe. Or as I like to call them, Date Rapist, Doughy-face, Date Rapist and Belligerent Drunk. These are the best "Heartthrobs"we can come up with? Wow.

Today's probably not the best time for me to write, I'm feeling all bitchy and pessimistic. I'm just having one of those days where everything has been a huge project, and it's all just been going wrong. Work has been non-stop all day, and I had to do about 4 days worth of work in one day. Then customers keep calling with the dumbest fucking questions, and I'm sorry, but I have no patience for these people. Even getting lunch was a big problem, thanks to the damn gas shortage here in Arizona. I drove to McDonald's but it is right next to a gas station, and the line of cars waiting for gas takes up practically the entire shopping center parking lot. I had to drive past the place to get to the drive through, but as soon as I did, all these people started honking at me and shit, like I was trying to cut them in line for gas or something. Holy Christ! Relax, bitches!!! I just want a fucking burger. Then I get up the drive-through and order and pay and get back to work, and they gave me the totally wrong food. I guess I should have checked before I left, but everything looked okay at a glance when I checked the bag for ketchups. I tried to eat the stuff they gave me but it was all gross. Dumb old McDonalds. And thanks to the big fiasco it was to get through the parking lot and get my lunch, I'm now getting pretty low on gas. Argh.
But I think I know how to solve the gas shortage. All we have to do is tell all the people who have giant SUV's that there's a place "right outside of town" that has gas, and nobody's over there yet. Then when they leave, we lock the big iron gates behind them. They're the ones who have giant gas tanks and burn up all the gas anyway. Fuck Em. They're all the types who have kids named Dakota or Taylor or Cody or Skylar, which automatically puts them in my "People to Shoot in the Goddamn Face" category. Plus, what do you need an SUV for anyway? Are these people really hauling heavy building materials around, or off-roading? I'm guessing not too many gold-rimmed Escalades are out there, doing donuts in the mud somewhere with Lenny Kravits's "Dragonfly" blaring from their stereos.
I bet Edward Burns drives a big, gold-plated SUV. Fuck that guy!

"(Static)Mike Toole....(static)....please abandon the Ice Cream Social and attach the safety harness to your person, Over."-Helicopter guy.
Lisa did a good job trying to translate our little "scenario" into writing. Except you forgot one thing- Edward Burns feels he should be spared from New York City based on the fact that he is a huger-than-life Megastar!!
"WAIT!!! Didn't you see 'She's the One'??!?!" Burns, running at top speed grabs the ropes attached to the safety harness and ties it tightly to his belt."Tell Christy TURLINGTON I LOVE HERRRRRRRRRRR.....uhhh!" Edward Burns slams face first into the side of a van, with enough force to briefly knock the vehicle up on two tires!
Later on in the trip, we see Mike Toole peeling Cherry-flavored outer space shapes from the cellophane of his fruit Roll-up. "Hey! Look Ed, it's a spaceship! Blast off to Planet Fruit!!" No reply from Edward Burn's limp, lifeless body dangling below.
"Whoa, looks like there's a little rain coming our way! Better Zip up your jacket, Ed!!" Toole buttons his coat and tucks his hands into the pockets, feeling rather satisfied from his "meal" of processed fruit pieces. No reply from Edward Burn's limp, lifeless body dangling below.

I did a really cool painting last night. It's very Tim Burton-esque, of a black and white carousel on a pink background. It came out great, but as it was drying, my kitten Fizzie jumped up onto the table and landed right in the center of my masterpiece! I was so pissed, I yelled at him and put him in the sink and tried to wash the pink paint off his little paws and tail. This is the second time I have been painting and he's jumped on it and ruined it. I think he's got some kind of an issue with my creativity. And with my fireplace, he likes to jump in there too. Luckily there's been no fires at these times. He did try to get into the hot oven once. I think he needs some therapy.

Well, this past weekend, Kane and I rented "The Ring". Hmmm. After all the hype I was expecting something a little scarier. That movie was all build-up and no payoff. And by the way, how did the thoughts of a dead girl get transferred onto videotape in the first place? I think they were just trying too hard to make something totally scary. Oh, and please, no more children who speak to the dead and know their secrets and whatnot. I'm noticing a pattern with scary movies where there's always a kid with a throat problem which causes them to whisper all their lines, and who speaks to ghosts, and usually they hold the key to whatever mystery happens to be going on in the film. But of course no one bothers to ask the kid until the last 1/4 of the movie. This is a mistake. In the future, as soon as I notice my house is haunted, the first place I'm going is to ask my kid. I'm guessing that bitch has to know something!!

Once upon a time, Lisa had a boyfriend who lived with us named Mike. I'll leave his name at that to protect his anonimity. So once upon a time Mike lived with my family in our condo in Middletown. He cluttered up the place with tie-die and sunflower seeds, and enriched our lives with Star Trek facts and memorabilia, and a Star Trek "Q" boxed set of videos. It seemed very out of character for Lisa to be this guy's girlfriend, as they were clearly from different worlds and had vastly different interests, at least from an outsider's point of view. Mike, unlike Lisa, was a habitual pot-head. He had a large collection of bongs and pipes and hookas, most of them he had fashioned himself from various pieces of hoses and glass bottles and other trash, and each one he could talk about endlessly, with a glimmer in his eye much like that of a child on Christmas morning. Mike was okay. He was never mean or anything, always very nice and usually smiling, but he was not exactly my favorite of Lisa's boyfriends over the years. There are a number of reasons why I wanted him out of our home, some of which I've been sworn to secrecy never to talk about, but here's a little story for ya.
I can't remember the exact date, but it was late 1997. I was going to Brookdale Community College at the time, and had an early Algebra class the next morning so I went to bed early that night. Anyway, after a few short hours of slumber, I was awoken by a loud noise. As of someone not-so-gently rapping, rapping on my chamber door. I got up, very groggy and still half asleep and looked at the clock. 2:30 AM. What could have happened? Was there an accident? Was someone hurt? Did someone eat the last piece of chocolate cake? I opened the door and found Mike, smiling broadly, looking very pleased with himself.
Me (in my bitchiest, most tired voice):"What?"
Mike:"I just made something, and I want you to be the first to try it out!"
With this, he slaps a dirty broken old piece of antler into my hand. Ah yes, the deer antler he found in the woods somewhere in Arizona when he and Lisa vacationed there a few months before. The one he planned to make into a pipe, and then planned to smoke weed from said pipe. Indeed, he had drilled a hole through it, and attached a metal bowl to it, which looked ripped off of one of his many bongs. I didn't like the idea, antlers are for deers to protect themselves and disguise them from hunters in the forest, not for Mike to smoke from.
So he wanted me to take to be the first to try it. Take the maiden voyage. He had packed the bowl with his "kindest bud", and was very insistant, even though I wasn't really interested in getting high, especially not from old dirty deer parts. Still though he insisted, like it was the highest honor, being offered the first hit. I just wanted to go back to bed. So okay, fine.
I took the "pipe" from him, and lit it, and took a fairly large hit, larger than I was prepared for, and also more painful than I was expecting. Apparently, Mike had forgotten one very important step in creating this masterpiece. He had forgotten to clean out the excess chunks of deer antler from the hole had drilled. My throat closed up, and I could feel bits of bone in my mouth, lungs and throat. It was the most disgusting feeling EVER, and I spent the next hour or so practically hacking myself to death, desperately trying to cough up the antler bits. See, that's a sentence no one should have to write! Mike apologized profusely and ran back down to Lisa's room in the basement, leaving me to fend for myself in the fight to breathe. That was just fine with me though, because if I could have talked, I probably would have told him to get the fuck out of my house!
The best way I can describe how it felt is imagine how it feels when at the beach you mistakenly get a few grains of sand in your mouth. Multiplied by 1,000, and at the same time suffocating in smoke, and at the same time having a severe sore throat. I didn't sleep any more that night, needless to say.
I was really glad when Mike moved out. Yay.

I've always been a pretty small person. Only recently have I started to watch what I eat, more out of wanting to be more healthy than wanting to lose weight or anything. So why why WHY is it that people (and when I say people, I mean women) always try to make me feel bad about the food that I eat? I've encountered so many women who are dieting. That is totally fine, if you are not happy with your body, then by all means help yourself to a nice extreme diet so you'll lose 10 pounds and gain it back next month after your husband leaves you. But why do women on a diet feel compelled to come up to me as I'm eating McDonalds and tell me what they can and can't eat. Then they look at my cheeseburger longingly, and re-inforce that they can't have that, "That's too many carbs!". Like what am I supposed to do for you? Should I be dieting along with you or something? Go away, I don't care that you can't have "carbs". NEWSFLASH: Everything is carbs. Except meat. And I'm pretty sure if you eat nothing but meat, you'll have a heart attack next year.
So I'm off to eat my bowling alley nachos and I don't give a fuck if you can have them or not. I'm not offering you any, am I? Nope. Fuck off.
Women. Jesus Christ!!!

Hey, Kane made a blog!!!! Woo-hoo!! My boyfriend's gotten in on the "ACTION", as the kids call it!!! I put the link up on the right, his essay about homeless people is A+, #1 Super Fun-Time!!!

It's 10:30, and I'm sitting in my office, thinking about making some popcorn for breakfast. Mmmmmm, sweet buttery goodness. At this very moment there are some kids outside, playing Red Light, Green Light on the grass below my window. Sounds cool, right? Except, these kids are using "the language" if you know what I mean!
"Red light!! I said RED LIGHT FUCKFACE!!!!!!!!!", one kid screams.
"Well, fuck you....!", another kid defiantly replies.
This takes me back to when I was little, and the first few times I was caught using "the language". Probably the first time was when I was having my 6th birthday party. I was outside with a gang of my little friends, all us girls, playing some hopscotch on the street before my mom served the birthday cake. We all looked like little Marshmallow peeps, hopping around in our frilly little pastel dresses, curls and pig-tails bouncing to and fro. When suddenly, along came the Mulheisen brothers to spoil all my birthday fun!! (They were the brothers who live on the corner opposite of us, who I had a deep hatred for, since these bullies pelted me with rocks while I was riding my bike around the neighborhood the first day I moved in with my family. I chased down the one my age, Michael, and beat him up pretty bad, and made him cry, so henceforth we were Nemesis-es!)
Anyway, there we were, an army of well dressed, clean little girls, versus an army of messy, dirty little Mulhiesens. Not that I needed backup that day, I was an army of one.
"Get the FUCK off my property MOTHERFUCKER!!! Or I'll rip your GODDAMN balls off!!!!!" I yelled as I approached the marauders. My little friends stood behind me, shocked and surprised at my vast knowledge of "the language". My best friend Sara Marsh giggled. Sara always had my back.
Before the boys could even muster up a reply, from behind us coming from my house was a primal scream:
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?????!???"
Shit. It was my mom! In my fit of anger I had completely forgotten that mom had all the windows open!! Curses!!!
Needless to say, the party was over, literally.
I vowed then and there never to be caught using "the language" again. For now. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!!!!!!

Hey, my computer's all fucked up today! It keeps randomly shutting down like a cheap whorehouse. Anyway, I'll try to type fast, so here goes.
I read an article today about how they(yes, the ominous "THEY" are at it again! You read it here first!!) are opening a school specifically for gay students in NYC. Am I alone in thinking this is a bad idea? Aren't they encouraging segregation by doing this? I think that the acceptance of gays is much better than what it once was, but to me this is as stupid as opening a school for black kids, or asian kids. Can you imagine the controversy that would cause? This is like saying, "Yeah, we get that you're gay, so we'll pretend we respect you so much that we are willing to generously give you your own school, when really, we just want you the hell away from our 'normal' kids.". Although I DO remember being in class and one of my teachers asking, "Does anyone in here feel attracted to their own gender? Hmmm. Then you're gonna have a bitch of a time understanding this algebra problem...".
Okay, off my box of soap now.
Onto my other topic: RAISINS. When's the last time you saw someone eating a little box of raisins? For me it was probably 1st grade, Mrs. Maxon's class, snack time. Not that there's anything really wrong with raisins, they're okay I guess, but who eats them?? I can honestly say that not once in my adult life have I seen anyone carrying the little red "Sunmaid" box with the hot chick on it, eating the small brown gems on their way to work, or the shoe store, or the bank. And if nobody is eating raisins, why are they so many at the grocery store? There must be a lot of old ladies making oatmeal raisin cookies out there, then, cuz otherwise I'm stumped.

Well I've got 20 minutes until I can close up the office and go home for the weekend, so I thought I'd use these last 20 minutes to write something. The only trouble is, I got nothin' to say!! I do want to say thanks to Mike Toole, for the shout-out he gave me and my sister Lisa on his Blog. It's really cool to know that people really are reading this thing and find it funny besides, well, me and Lisa!! I just hope you don't find the passage about how my Grandpa was killed by lethal injection after blowing up that clown college with a pipe bomb funny. That shit ain't cool!!!!!
In any case, here's an interesting little news item I found today, about this little cat who turns out to be a piece o'shit criminal. I just hope my 2 cats Riley and Fizz don't take a cue from this one:

"SIMI VALLEY, Calif. - A cat burglar's booty is being hoarded in a Ventura County home.

A marauding feline named Midnight - now dubbed Klepto Cat - has been sneaking off in the dark to raid neighbor's homes, garages, sheds and patios, bringing home shoes, hats, shirts, socks and even a wrapped Christmas present.

It's stressful for pet owners Richard and Sue Boyd.

"We get so embarrassed by this," Sue Boyd said. "We wake up in the morning and go out and there's stuff under the truck . The cat leaves things all over. We don't want these things."

"He's a klepto cat," her husband said.

Each day, Midnight's owners leave a bag with the purloined goods hanging from their mailbox so neighbors can reclaim missing items.

It is unclear why Midnight prefers wearables."

Shit. I'm runnin' low on underpants. Hop to it, Fizzie!!

Do they wear kilts in Ireland? I know they rock them in Scotland as part of their traditional costume, but I don't know if they wear them in both Scotland and Ireland. The reason I'm asking is because of these guys that Kane and I saw at a bar last night. We were there for his niece's birthday, and she has a pretty large group of friends, so it was in a closed-off section of the bar. Most of her friends are cut from the same mold, early 20's, sloppy, spikey headed, too cool for school types. I'm sure you've seen them in any local mall parking lot, or sitting behind you at a movie theater, kicking your chair and regaling tales of Steve-O throughout the film. So punk rock everyone my age is nowadays!!
Anyway, in the middle of this crowd sitting at their own table are three guys who don't quite fit the scene. They are all wearing matching plaid kilts, knee high socks and electric green t-shirts with IRELAND stamped across the front in glowing white letters. They all look like jocks. Two of them are really big guys, the kind that try to pass off fat for muscle, and the third is a really short, stocky guy with 80's hair that is shaved underneath and longish on top, and coated in a thick layer of hair gel for that oh-so-greasy effect. They didn't seem to know anybody there, and I kept wondering what their story was, and if they missed the big sign the waitress put up saying this sections was reserved for a party. I leaned over to Kane and whispered,"what's the deal with those guys?" and he said "I think they're a band." Of course! A band, one of those edgy, makin' a statement groups. OKAY!
So the party went on, and everybody was drinking and we had birthday cake and everything, and these guys were eatin' that shit up. The cake, I mean! Finally around 11:00 we decided to head out. So we get in the car and start to drive home and I asked Kane, "So what band were those kilt guys in?"
Kane:"Kilt guys?"
Me:"Yeah, the ones sitting right by us?"
K:"They weren't the band, the table in the corner was the band."
(I dimly recall a table full of dark-clothed skate punks in the back corner.)
Me:"Oh. Well then who were the kilt guys?"
K:"I have no idea! I was wondering who invited them!!"
So I think maybe it was one of those cases where someone must have been like, "Who are your friends?" and someone else went,"My friends? I thought they were with you!".
But in any case, I think they ate all the cake, that's my point!

One time, when me and Kane were driving home from lunch, I made up this character and made him laugh so hard he had trouble driving. I have no idea where this idea came from, but sometimes you just gotta let things happen. I pretended I was an Italian girl who was adopted by a Japanese family when she was a baby, so she speaks with a japanese accent and has trouble with English. She is also obsessed with Whoopi Goldberg, and her favorite movie is "Jumpeen Jack Frash". Except I don't know any Japanese, so I just pretend I do but yelling out words like "Tomagachi!!" and "Yu-Gi-OH!!!!" and giggling uncontrollably. Someday I want to make a short film about her, like a documentary, and in the background of every scene I want a poster from a different Whoopi Goldberg movie, like "Theodore Rex" or "The Color Purple", only all the writing would be in Japanese. I'm guessing posters like that would be hard to find though, so I'd probably have to make them in Photoshop or something. Better get started now!
I make up wierd characters a lot, I guess. Another time I was hanging out with Lisa and I made up a character who is half human- half unicorn. I don't think I made up a name, but lets call her Stompy. Stompy has a horn growing out of her forhead and slurs her speech, and can tell you all you've ever wanted to know about life as a half-unicorn. Again, I don't know where this came from, but it really freaked out Lisa.
Another character I do is an old man with a Scottish accent, who lived in Allaire State Park in New Jersey in the early 1800's when it was just a settlement and he was just a lad. Then I go off on a tangent about the horrible day in 1836, when the local kids "thumped Billy!" in a snowball fight that turned brutal. They thumped him to death, then dragged his lifeless frozen body through through the snow, tied to a horse-drawn carriage, "I was there, and I SAW YA LAUGH, ya Wee BASTARD!!!!". Me and Lisa made this one up after we went to Allaire Village and we saw a Rockwell-esque painting there along one of the paths depicting a winter scene with a big snowball fight, except all the kids were aiming at one boy, so that's Billy Allaire. This was back in 1995, and I still add to the story all the time, getting more and more graphic about the way he died, and about his poor starvin' mum, "who waited all night for young William to return home for his evenin' meal, only to find out her youngest son's icy doom the next morn'. And I SAW YA LAUGH!!!!". I usually scream that last part right in Lisa's or my mom's face, and try not to laugh when they start cracking up.
I guess this stuff's not really funny unless I can do the "bits" for you in person. You know what, come on over some time. All of you! Sure! I'll make us waffles with butter and we can drink soda! Yeah!!!

P.S. I really didn't have anything to write about today.
:)

This one's for Rob,yo!

Hey everybody! It's been a while, whell i can't whrite when I have nothing to whsay! My brain's been on auto pilot for the past few days, I've been a little sickly, and haven't slept very much. Too much fun staying up and watching the Golden Girls on Lifetime. What can I say, I love my Rose Nylund, y'all!

ANYCRAP, I just went to Arby's to get a turkey and swiss market fresh sammich and cheese fries. On my way back to the office I saw this business woman I didn't recognize violently tugging on the door to my office. Because of the business I am in, we have a lot of security so you have to be buzzed in, you can't just open the door. There's all these magnets that you have to de-activate to release the locks on two sets of doors, and there are two cameras catching your every move. On the wall by the door there is a call button so you can let us know you're there and we can let you in, but this lady was obviously missing the obvious. I know I should have done the considerate, professional thing, and asked her how I could help her, and who did she need to speak with, but I didn't. Even though my cheese fries were gettin' soggier by the minute, I decided to hang by the elevator and watch for a bit, and see how long it took her to figure out there's a call button. She never did. She just kept tugging on the doorhandle and making angry remarks out loud to no one, like "This is ridiculous!!". Yes ma'am, it is entirely ridiculous that we have our precious "security" system, when someone who's obviously so important as yourself shouldn't be forced to obey our petty "rules" to gain access to our million dollar stock of jewelry and gems inside. The nerve of us, not letting Barbara Bitchfist come and go as she pleases. Ridiculous!!
Eventually she gave up and slammed open the doors adjacent to mine, stomping into the neighbor's office like she was gonna kick some innocent bystander ass. I took this opportunity to buzz myself inside as fast as possible, trying to get in without being seen. I failed though, because right as I was closing the second door, I saw her come running up and knocking on the glass. Always the courteous "sweetheart" that I am, I shut the door and pretended not to see her. I announced to the other people in the office to "check this shit out!", and we all watched on the security camera as she frantically slammed her manicured fists on the glass door, yelling something we could not hear. Finally Tony was the big man, and he pushed the Talk button.
Tony-"Can I help you"
Bitchfist-"BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!"(apparently she doesn't see that the Talk button and the Bell button are two seperate things.)
Tony-"Hello??"
Bitchfist-"BZZZZZ! BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ! BZZ! BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!"
Tony-(sighs) "I'll be right out"
We watch as he goes outside and talks to the woman, who then storms off in the opposite direction as Tony comes back inside. Turns out Bitchfist had the wrong office.*
*Note: On our glass door is a rather large sign at eye level, with black, easy to read letters announcing: Mayfield's Inc. Suite 209

You know, it only takes a second to calm down and survey the scene. If it doesn't say D.D.S. or Dentist on our sign, and if you don't see a smiling cartoon molar holding a toothbrush, chances are you're in the wrong goddamn place! Man, wise up!

Why the hell doesn't it rain in Arizona??? Today is the first cloudy day we've had since March, and everyone is hoping it will rain, but I'm thinking not. It's so dry here that I keep getting sinus infections and headaches from breathing in nothing but dust. Now, as a person not familiar with the ways of weather systems and the reasoning behind our wacky planet, I would think that the way we have weather at all is by clouds and wind drifting around our atmosphere. So how is it possible that as soon as any rainclouds approach the area high above Arizona, something in them says, "Ummmmm......... Nah!!!!" and floats the other way. Do these clouds have compasses and maps? Have we (meaning people in Arizona) somehow wronged these storm clouds? If so, what did we do to piss off our environment so much? I totally get that we can't have snow, I get that the leaves don't change color here, and that the summers are so brutally hot you can burn your fingerprints off by touching anything left in the sun for more than 5 minutes. But can't we at least have a little bit of precipitation? I think someone up there is trying to kill us.

Today Kane sent me a link to a website of "Celebrity Look-Alikes". So far I think I've looked at almost everyone on the site, and maybe, MAYBE like 2% of the people actually look like the celebrity they think they resemble. There's one that's supposed to look like Johnny Depp, but the picture only shows the guy's nose and eyes, and he's wearing black sunglasses. You can't even see his face! That'd be like me submitting a picture of my cheek and saying "Don't I look like Reese Witherspoon???".
Not only that, but I think every slut with a boob job thinks she looks like Pamela Anderson, every fat guy with a beard thinks he looks like Pavoratti, and every blonde bimbo thinks she looks like Marilyn Monroe. Sorry Losers. You are just very very sad. Especially you people who idolize Marilyn Monroe. I think girls like that have some serious underlying issues. Why would you idolize someone who was a crummy actress, who had the most annoying breathy voice in history, who slept with everyone, even the president and who died of a drug overdose? (OK, there's theories that she was killed, but I couldn't really give two shits about that "Theory". I have a theory that I'm sick of seeing fucking Marilyn Monroe all over the goddamn place!) Speaking of which, me, Kane, Lisa and Tom went to this party at this girl's house once, and her bathroom was like a shrine to Marilyn. Very unsettling. When I went in there there were a bunch of candles lit, and pictures of Ms. Monroe, all over EVERYTHING. There were piles of books about Marilyn Monroe on the floor next to the toilet, and even the shower curtain was staring at me through Marilyn's drugged-out eyes. It felt like I had stepped into some sort of religious ceremony, in which my pee was the last key ingredient to raise Marilyn Monroe's spirit from the dead. I half expected a scene like in Wierd Science when they have that indoor hurricane before the door bursts apart and Kelly LeBrock walks in. Only this time, it'd be Marilyn. AHHHHH!!!!
So here's the link to the site.
http://www.lookalikes-susanscott.co.uk/Menu%20lists%2003/hollywood.htm
This page goes to the Hollywood section, but if you click on main menu, you can find more lookalikes that are equally shitty. Oh, if you actually do click on this link, be sure to look at Jean-Claude Van Damme. The guy really does look like him, it's wierd. Too bad he's in the minority though.
Sincerely,
Sigourney Weaver, choking on a milk dud while sittin in the dirt outside a kindergarten classroom.

P.S. Also, just because you put black rimmed glasses on your retarded kid DOES NOT mean he looks like Harry Potter. Leave your fucking kid alone and stop trying to squeeze your 10 seconds of fame out of him!!

"OOoooo-ooo child, things are gonna get easier,
OOooooo-ooo child thing'll get bright-er!"
-Jason Bateman, wandering the aisles of Target wearing a children's milkshake Halloween costume, with his willy hangin' out the bottom.

I want to make a tv show called "The Misadventures of Darius Dipshit". It will be a black(or African American, I don't want to offend nobody!) guy named Darius, who's a hardened thug Gangsta from the streets, and the show would open with him saying his catch-phrase "Sho' Nuff, Nigga.". Then he would maybe go into a little monologue about life in the hood or something, before he says"Let's get right to it..." and cut to footage of a church bake sale happening somewhere. Old people would be wandering from table to table, trying free samples before buying their bundt cake or oatmeal cookies while other old people standing behind the folding tables make small talk about their current medical ailments. After some particularly juicy footage of an elderly white woman wearing a crooked brown wig with some grey hair poking out underneath, taking a bite of coffee cake and leaving a ring of bright orange lipstick on it, we'd cut back to Darius. He'd say, "that's about all the time we have yo. See ya'll next week. Sho' Nuff.". Every week we'd get an inside look at life on the streets and church bake sales happening all across America.
What do you think?
As for the elderly white woman in the crooked wig with the orange lipstick, my Grandma's available. She showed up at our house like that once, I shit you not.

What movies make you cry? If I try to name some of the ones that have caused me to shed a tear or two, it's hard. I know there's movies I've cried at. There's way more that I've laughed at, but that is neither here nor there.
Trying to come up with some movie that have made me cry, a few obvious ones come to mind. Titanic, but not for the obvious reasons. I cry when the old couple is holding one another as the water rushes in to their room on the ship. And I cry when the Irish lady is reading a story to her kids as the ship is sinking. Not when Leo dies, because hey Kate Winslet, why not let him have a turn on the fun piece of door or whatever. Would it have killed you to share that thing, like switch off maybe? I guess you'd rather kill DiCaprio. SELFISH!
Another one is A.I., which I did not expect to cry at, but there I was, pretending to have "something caught in my eye" when David sees his mom again before he dies. Sniffles. The opening scene to Tarzan gets me all choked up too. Watching as the baby gorilla gets killed right in front of his mother, and seeing her be all depressed kills me. Plus the magical music of Mr. Phil "Sue-Suedeo" Collins is enough to make anyone cry.
But there is one movie that is not such an obvious choice, which anyone besides Lisa just doesn't understand. That movie is "Popeye"starring Robin Williams and Shelley Duvall. It is a classic to me, a childhood favorite, next to Jaws. Growing up near the Atlantic Ocean, I was convinced this movie took place in Atlantic Highlands, a nearby small town right on the water full of hills and little old houses and docks that stink like dead fish. I still know the words to all the songs, and I remember when my mom would take me with her to the bank to get a free lollipop with her financial transaction, where the hell was Olive Oyl's house? This movie is all good times and nostalgia for me, UNTIL Sweet Pea gets kidnapped. Gasp!!!!! I believe it is right after Popeye punches out the tax man and throws him in the ocean, that the whole town comes out to celebrate. People are cheering and lifting Popeye up, so Wimpy offers to hold onto Sweet Pea(played by the cutest baby I've ever seen, by the way). Anyway, Wimpy runs away with Sweet Pea, and trades him to Big old villain Bluto for some hamburgers. Bluto wants the baby because he has the ability to pick winning race horses by whistling at them. (This all makes perfect sense when you're a kid!)
Popeye starts frantically screaming and searching for Sweet Pea, but to no avail, so he writes a letter to the babe and puts it in a baby bottle and floats it out to sea. This is by far one of the most devastating movies scenes in history to me. Hearing Popeye lazily mumbling aloud his letter to Sweet Pea, set to a big, sweeping orchestration and throwing the baby bottle into the water is very sad. But what I can't take is during the closing instrumentals of the song, we see the bottle floating along in the water and the camera pans up to the baby's face staring out a little circular window on a boat, crying. He looks at a sleeping, snoring Bluto, and chews on his fingers, his face streaked with tears, and says in his saddest little baby voice, "Popeye".
Holy shit, it's tearing me up right now and I'm not even watching the movie. I gotta stop now. Where's da tissues?

Why is it when people (mostly women) say "That's HYSTERICAL!" about something, they never actually laugh? Like if you are in an office working, and this is just, um, hypothetically speaking of course, and you show someone a picture of Corin Nemec (Parker Lewis CAN Lose) being punched in the junk by a monkey, they just look at it and give a half-assed smile and say "That's HYSTERICAL!". Yeah, so why no laugh, Ho?

Wow, it's been a while since I last wrote anything. Who's Johnny Lazybitch, huh?? Me, that's who!
Actually I had a vacation last week for the 4th. Our office was closed on Wednesday the 2nd and didn't re-open until Monday the 7th. It was gooooood. I took the opportunity to go swimming, spend tons o' money at the mall and bond with my new baby kitten, Fizzgig. Fizzie for short. He's a little orange cat with big green and blue eyes(not one of each color, fuck!) and my sister's boss found him outside either a Blockbuster or a chinese restaurant or something. He was either trying to rent "Goodburger" or about to become Kitty Cow Mein. Either way he's safe with me and my other cat, Riley. The two of them wrestle and throw each other around a lot. I think they like each other, at least I hope so cuz Fizzie's an A-number 1 super sweet boy.
That's all I got!
Sincerely,
Heather Langenkamp, picking her teeth with her car keys while riding on the Scrambler at the Fireman's Fair.

You know what I like? Emmet Otter's Jug-Band Christmas by Jim Henson. If anyone doesn't know it, it's the story of Emmett, a young otter who is raised by his single mom after his Pa dies. He tries to earn money to help his poor starving mother who works several jobs yet still finds time to have fun and serenade her son with her bitchin' otter voice. One day Emmett finds out there's a local talent contest and if he can win it, he can buy Ma a christmas present, so he takes her only washtub (and only source of income) and drills a hole through it to make a bass for his jug-band. Then they lose the talent contest to The Riverbottom Nightmare Band, a gang of local hooligan so-and-so's who demonstrate their bad behavior early on in the show by stealing Kemit the frog's (the story's narrator) scarf and throwing him violently from his bicycle.

The best part about this movie by far, is the scene in which Ma and Emmett play on the slide that Pa built. The slide leads to the now frozen lake, and Ma and Emmett go slippin' and a-slidin' on the ice, leading to much joy and merriment. This scene was done by just basically tossing the limp, lifeless puppets down the slide, and dubbing their voices over the scene, saying things like,"Wheeee!" and "Now watch me, MA!!!". Hilarious. But there is one part in particular, where the two Otter puppets collide, and Emmett clearly kicks his Ma in the poo-nannie. This blink-and-you'll-miss-it scene was definitely overlooked in the editing room, but I gotta say, nothing says Joyeux Noel like throwing your mom down a slide onto the ice and kicking her in the crotch. Can you feel the presence of Jesus? Unto you, a child is born.

The other reason I like this movie so much is I can really relate to the main character's plight. I, too, was raised by a talking, old-timey widowed Otter surviving on a very fixed income.

Okay, that's a lie.

I don't know if anyone's reading this thing, but sorry I missed yesterday. I had a lousy day and didn't have anything to write that wouldn't be all negative. But today is different, because at the end of today, me and Lisa have TAP DANCING class!! Nothing can getcha down when your shoes make cool noises. We are doing pretty well too, I have to say, since it was about 15 years ago that we last tapped. The only trouble is there are full-length mirrors across one enitre wall, and I'll be doing great, tapping my heart out, unti I look up at myself and start laughing. Or make eye contact with Lisa and start laughing. Or think about Butters on South Park and start laughing.
The next class I want to take is a German class at the community college by my apartment. Everything sounds funny in German class. I took it for two years in high school and had a ball watching german television shows and listening to Herbert Groenmeier, "Germany's answer to Kurt Cobain" according to my teacher, Herr Wolf. Apparently Germany's answer to Kurt Cobain means a guy with a synthesizer singing songs like "Geld Oder Leben", some of the lyrics of which translate to "I eat the spaghetti/Your money or your life".

I have never liked Haley Joel Osment. He just bothers me. Granted, some of his movies are really good, like "The Sixth Sense" and "A.I.", but it's just him that drives me up a wall. My boyfriend Kane sent me a link to see the trailor of a new movie H.J.O. is in, called "Secondhand Lion". From what I gather, he goes to a farm to live with Michael Caine and Robert Duvall and a cute french bulldog. Then there's a Lion in a crate and money thrown all over someone's basment and then they eat BBQ ribs and do some yard work. Oscar is written all over this motherfucker. But watching Haley Joel, it seems that he is getting uglier the older he gets. Not only that, but he also seems to be trying to talk like a child when obviously his voice is changing. Very much like Urkel towards the end of "Family Matters" when he tried so hard to hold onto his funny little nasal voice, but it actually came out sounding like a retarded Eunich with a head cold. But I digress, back to Osment.

If Madame Tussaud ever plans on making a wax statue of our boy Osment, I think the best way to do it would be to make a good model of a generic looking little boy. Then drive it out here to Phoenix and leave it in the sun for a day or two. After the face has melted and began sliding off of the head, feel around for where the glass eyeballs have been covered over when the wax melted. Take a really dull box cutter and jaggedly cut two slits over the eyeballs, pushing the wax down and dragging out the corners. Then pull the mouth open slightly and drip some elmers glue from it, letting it harden into makeshift drool. Then, you know, rough his hair up a bit, and give him a teddy bear or something.

I can't wait to see his E! True Hollywood Story five years from now. Wow. That kid sucks.

Alright, I'm here, fresh from my jump onto the band wagon. "Everybody's doin' it!", they said, as the group simultaneously wiped the cake batter from their mouths, laughing maniacally. Following in the grand tradition of Lisa and her friend Mike Toole, I think I want to try some blogging too.
My main inspiration is Lisa's first posting, about the man in the chicken head on the street corner. This struck a chord with me, as I, too, was once earning a living in an animal suit. I have a special bond with these street-people, whether it be Santa, drunkly waving at traffic outside the Wal-mart in December, or a giant squirrel wearing a Blimpie's t-shirt and balancing on a divider in the middle of a very busy street, teetering dangerously. I understand these people. Sometimes it's not their fault, it's just the cards that life has dealt them that has lead to their sorry state. When I drive past someone in a fake-fur suit, all I can do is give a sympathetic smile and a knowing nod, as if to say "Hang in there, pal. Fight the good fight."
For almost two years I was better known to the children of Middletown, NJ as Chuck E. Cheese. It was a rough time, with many ups and even more downs. Almost all of my friends worked at Chuck E.'s then, and they helped me get the job. At first I was a birthday party hostess, the most thankless of jobs, next to, well, dressing up as Chuck. The shittiest thing about being a hostess was that parents would drop their kids off, usually in groups of 20 or more, and the hostess (me!) would be responsible for keeping them fed, watered and entertained. And it's not like the kids really feel like sitting at a long table and behaving when there's games and sky tubes and ball pits to play in. So you try to keep the kids there by "decorating" their cake while waiting for their pizza to come out of the oven. You give them tubes of writing gel and shakers full of sprinkles and let them loose on the b-day kids' cake. This is when they decide to decorate the hostess instead of the cake, and you end up with icing all over your ass and sprinkles down your shirt. Then out comes the pizza and while the kids throw it all over the place and smush it into the carpet, they are serenaded by Chuck E. and Pals. All of Chuck's bandmates (Helen Henny-vocals, Jasper T. Jowels-guitar, and Luigi-drums) are animatronic so the only one who actually comes out is Chuck E. Cheese himself. And WOW what a SHOW!! The giant rodent comes out into the audience and dances to the "Mexican Hat dance" or "Strike it Up" , then there's a brief "intermission" before birthday song, cake, presents and then time to pay the check. The biggest travesty and what make this job reall awful, is that right at the top of the check given to the parents, it says in big, bold letters: "TIPPING NOT REQUIRED". These harsh words always seemed to mock me as I reluctantly delivered the check to Mom or Dad. Sure every once in a while you'd get a family who takes pity on you and gives you a tip, but you'd be surprised how many people are all too willing leave you with nothing but a bad mood and a mess to clean up, which you rush to get done before your next birthday party arrives.
Sounds fun right? Even better is the job of dressing up as Chuck E. Cheese. The best thing about it is you don't have to wear your lame-ass uniform to work, and when you aren't dressed up, you can make cotton candy in the kitchen. AWESOME!! I loved that part. But then, you get word that a show is about to go down, so you have to suit up. Alright. Lesson one: Chuck E. is not a mouse, he's a rat. A rat from Brooklyn, and don't you forget it. I made this mistake once and literally got yelled at by my manager and two other employees like I had just set the place on fire or something. Lesson two: before putting on the rat suit, you must strap on a vest made of ice packs that freezes the hell out of your chest, back and shoulders. Does nothing to keep your legs, feet, arms and head cool, so your body is all screwed up. After putting on the vest you go to the dressing room next to the stage and that's where the magic happens. First you put on the legs and torso, which is all sewn onto a hoola hoop with suspenders and velcro to hold it on. Then you step into the feet, which are ill-fitting boots with old velcro so full of lint that the shit doesn't really close anymore. Then the top half of the body which is like a scary jacket made of a skinned muppet. After that it's the big 4-fingered gloves, followed by the giant head. While you are doing this a party hostess is loading a tape into the machine of the song you are about to "perform". Get up on the stage behind the curtain and when the music starts and curtain goes up, you stand on a rotating platform and magically come to life for the enjoyment of younsters and adults with down's syndrome. You can only imagine the mishaps that could have and did take place. The stage is about 2 feet high, and you have to jump down from it so you can dance with the kiddies. Sometimes the boots came off or head came off, which scares the kids and means you have to start over again since the kids want to see Chuck E. Cheese, not Chuck E. Leper. The other thing is whoever made the mask didn't think about periferral vision, so as kids are coming at you from all sides, you knock them over with your huge rat ass and backhand them often. Children also get inexplicably violent when meeting a giant rat from Brooklyn, so get ready to get your ass kicked by a gang of vicious kids as you can't move too well, can't see too well, get overheated and dizzy, get frostbite on your chest and back, and get nauseous from the stank of the costume. You get a five minute break and then you do it all over again for the birthday song. If the kids were really rough to me and I wasn't in the mood for their crap, I'd mess with them by smacking a few kids down, or stepping on presents. Also, when wearing four-fingered gloves, you can give everyone the finger and it just looks like a John Travolta dance move. Once the song is over you have to take pictures with the birthday boy or girl, who usually screams and cries or punches you in the knees. Being in this situation, you can only imagine the horror you feel when people try to hand you a tiny baby to hold while they snap a picture. You can't exactly hold onto anything, let alone a fragile infant, but just try to scream loud enough so the parents can hear you object through the mask and all the noise!
I left this job and never looked back, although I have a million stories to tell. And on the way out I drove my car through the building, causing them to completely remodel the place. No hard feelings though guys, nothing personal. But thanks for the memories.
So I say good luck to all those who wear character suits. Godspeed. It is a rough job but as long as there are kid's themed restaurants and new Arby's opening up, somone's got to do it.
Hang in there, Pal. Fight the good fight.