...sloppy words and movie lines...

a new home.

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

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

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

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

My Snow Day Morning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

11:12 am. Pancakes gone.

11:13 am. I wanna throw up.

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

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

an apple a day makes me want to cry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?!

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

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

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

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

You guys. I bought 26 books.

26 mother-lovin' books.

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

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

get the sensation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

i'm probably going to hell.

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

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

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

saving money is for the self-controlled.

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

I have this thing about saving money...

I can't do it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am a party animal. Yow.

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

the words don't work.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mmm... poop-tarts.

midnight margaritas.

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

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

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

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

I don't have a problem.

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

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

emmy cat

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

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

how you can help.

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

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

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

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

Americares
American Red Cross
Doctors Without Borders
UNICEF

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now I don't know what to do.

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

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

guilt trip.

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

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

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

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

all the single ladies, put your hands up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

hillbilly ovaries.

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

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

Best cat in. the. WORLD.

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

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

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

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

MMMbooze.

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

There is a Hanson drinking game.

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

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

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

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

Well, you need a few things.

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

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

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

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

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

the perfect movie credentials.

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

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

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

1 - A makeover.

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

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

2 - Explosives and/or Guns.

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

3 - A Happy Ending.

Duh.

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

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

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

6 - Quotability.

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

7 - Humor.

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

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

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

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

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

2010. let's do this.

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

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

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

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

Resolution 1: To give up red meat.

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

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

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

Resolution 3: To get healthy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, and Happy New Year beautifuls!

liquid bar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

heart songs.

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

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

So, yeah. Heart songs. Here are mine:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

happy holidays... buy me something shiny!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seriously, I just want to gobble them up.

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

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

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

...

Glad to be back blogging.

you drunk spelunk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

weekend favorite

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'll be needing some caffeine, stat.