Before I officially left the church, I should have taken an ad out.
WANTED: Excommunication assistance. Please submit your suggestions on how one would go about getting excommunicated from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, aka the Mormon Church. Entries may be submitted to either the Tried-and-True Classics category, or the Outlandish But Not Illegal category. Creativity is a plus, and suggested excommunication methods can involve more than one person, but remember that simplicity is a virtue. Entries that require long periods of time or complicated and unlikely scenarios will not be considered. (Note: if attacking the virtue of simplicity is the impetus of your method, you are exempted from this rule.) The top 5 entries in each category will be tested to see which result in excommunication. Winners will receive [REDACTED], [REDACTED], and a one-year supply of Cocoa Puffs. Also: rosy cheeks, no warts.
Today I had to transfer money from my savings account to my checking account.
It had to happen.
Worth it? You be the judge.
This is where Edward stalks Bella. This dog has never heard of Twilight. I haven't been here yet. I hope they don't have Twilight. As one-dimensional as the characters in Twilight. Edward would sparkle in the sunshine here. Where Twilight belongs. Why I'm thinking about Twilight.
I'm on season 2 of Buffy and book 4 of Harry Potter. And I've had 2 mochas. I'm rocking my New Year's resolutions.
Last night I babysat Adia while Spencer and Chrissy went to see Transformers 2. I totally got the better end of that deal.
This is Adia's Ramona Quimby haircut. I think it's charming, Chrissy apologizes for it to everyone she sees. Which gets kind of awkward when she's just going up to random homeless people like, "I'M NOT GOOD AT CUTTING HAIR!" and then they freak out because she's this tall, blonde goddess screaming "CUTTING," so I imagine they think she's an angel visiting the wrath of God upon them or something.
Adia and I walked over to Mallard Ice Cream, where we got a pint of coconut almond chocolate chunk ice cream for FREE because Spencer's friend Neill was working and he loves Adia. Score! Then we went home and watched Follow That Bird - not gonna lie, I went and added the soundtrack to my Amazon wishlist. Also on my list: The Muppet Christmas Carol soundtrack and the Feature Films for Families Rigoletto soundtrack. Judge me if you must.
Also, I finally took custody of my guitar from Spencer. Now I just have to learn to play it...
This afternoon I had a GREAT idea. Instead of making outlandish New Year's Resolutions like losing 50 pounds (which would mean giving up all food, ever, and I hear that leads to death, so I'm thinking that resolution? A BUST), or going to the gym everyday (tricky when you don't belong to a gym), or being nice all the time (which would be easy if it weren't for YOU), I'm thinking I'm going to start making totally manageable ones. Only I always make my resolutions for my birthday because that's MY new year.
So before I turn 30 this year I want to:
Make cookies Drink at least 10 mochas Reread all the Harry Potter books Get at least to season 4 on my summer of Buffy marathon Get a haircut Learn to play a chord on the guitar Say at least 250 words Smile at three people, OR smile three times at the same person
That's totally what I look like after my team of makeup artists, hairstylists, photoshoppers, and android design experts are done. Only BETTER.
I got this from Emily Pearson's blog. Hm, I wonder why it's not linked in my sidebar. That shall be immediately remedied because her blog is delightful and you should all share in the joy.
Today I feel fine, as I knew I would. No uppers involved, but there was some chocolate. And also some ice cream and some Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon with Chrissy, who is a friend, but - sorry, Chrissy - doesn't really count because she's also family and is therefore kinda somewhat obligated to at least pretend she likes me.
In any case, I feel more like this today,
and also a little like this, which is either my "Step off, bitch" face or else my "About to have something squishy explode in her face" face.
That ambiguous face is due to the blog comment fight I had today, which left me feeling surprisingly buoyant. You know what that means? I AM BACK.
Tonight was my night to cook. I made veggie some-kind-of-pie-type-dish. Basically just veggies - yams, potatoes, kale, onions, carrots, mushrooms, bell peppers, garlic - in a little bit of thick broth, cooked in the oven with cornbread batter on top. It was apparently a hit, since everyone went went back for thirds. Except for me - I only had seconds because I'm a lady.
Afterwards I had a major crash due to the realization that I will probably never have real-life friends again, and some other stuff, and also due to the downers that I must have baked into dinner, because that was one helluva crash.
Here I am, looking woefully off into the distance, which is where all my friends are.
I was going to eat a lot of chocolate, figuring that I would keep eating until I was either cheered up or I got so fat that I would die and have to be removed from my house with a crane, and really, I think that was a totally valid plan. But then my friend, Rhiannon (off in the distance, and also probably a robot because how would I know when I never see her?), chatted me up on gmail and ruined all my plans for death by fat via chocolate by cheering me up.
And that begs the question, who is creating robots to cheer me up, and why?
That's right, you heard it here first: MABS IS IN TOWN.
Spencer and I have known Mabs since he was a wee lad of 3, back when people besides me still called him Mabs rather than Matt. Note to Matthew: Mabs will live on as long as I do. YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO KILL ME, MABS.
which is the most post-apocalyptic place I've ever been.
I am truly sorry it didn't occur to me to yell, "SOYLENT GREEN IS PEEEEOPLE!!!" It would have added to the experience for everyone, I think.
Afterwards we made a quick trip to see the Fremont Troll,
then headed over to Theo Chocolate, where they are not stingy with the samples.
On the way home I got a mocha, and Adia, having missed her nap, decided she wanted some, I guess as a little pick-me-up. So she screamed "COFFEEEEEE!!!" from the backseat of the car until Chrissy calmed her down with some chocolate and songs from The Little Mermaid.
First, the trailer (Raych, if you're reading this, don't watch - it'll just scare you).
Hard Candy has five actors in it, total. FIVE. And only two have more than a handful of lines. It feels a lot like a play adapted for the screen, though I don't think it is. Patrick Wilson is great, as always, Ellen Page is precociously clever, as usual, and Sandra Oh is not onscreen for more than a couple of minutes.
***SPOILERS, PROBABLY! I don't know exactly what I'm going to write yet, but it's a good bet that I'll talk about the girl turning out to be an ALIEN PROSTITUTE! Just kidding. But spoilers are likely.
A couple of people told me Hard Candy keeps the audience in suspense, until the very end, about who is really the villain.
That is totally true.
If you have never seen a movie before.
Let me do the math for you:
1 thirty-something man (Patrick Wilson) + 1 underage girl he met online (Ellen Page) + 1 photo of another underage missing-presumed-dead girl in his hidden safe +/- his protestations of innocence = HE DID IT, DUH. (Yep, that's a spoiler.)
Everyone I know who has seen this warned me that it's extremely disturbing, which, of course, is the entire reason I decided to watch it.
People, I am underwhelmed. It is somewhat disturbing, but not at all to the level of the extreme.
Sure, the castration scene is pretty disturbing (my count: 2 spoilers), but when you know the guy is a pedophile and a murderer, will you really care when he loses his balls? I mean, the girl numbs him first. It's not like she's totally inhumane.
I didn't find this at all the morally ambiguous tale I was told it was. Alright, so the girl is off her rocker; if she's aiming the crazy at a pedophile/murderer, am I really supposed to wonder who the bad guy is? IT'S STILL THE PEDOPHILE/MURDERER.
However.
It is a pretty taut psychological thriller, and I'm always up for a thriller.
I give it a solid B, and some milk and cookies for effort.
For a really good psychological thriller, however, watch Cube.
I forgot I was going to do a movie review today. This isn't it - like I said, I forgot.
I was searching craigslist for part-time jobs that might not make me want to carve my heart out with a spork (difficult to do without breaking the plastic, but I maintain that it would be possible), and one looked promising. It gave a website where candidates could find the application for employment. I went to the website, clicked on the application, and read through it. It asks for 3 personal references, one of which must be the applicant's church. The last part of the application reads, "Please share of your personal faith in Jesus Christ."
I guess I won't be applying for that job.
In other news, the one job I did apply for - the one that I'm SERIOUSLY overqualified for and would be great at - did not call me back.
The small part of me that cares just wants more money for coffee.
Right now I'm sitting in a computer lab at WWU, waiting with my brother while he finishes a project. Lately I've generally been listening to the same music over and over, but just now I thought, "Hm, I'd really like to listen to the soundtrack to Assassins." People, that was a GREAT idea. I'm enjoying it immensely.
When I was a nanny I had to do Nicole's* laundry once a week, so I'd toss mine in as well. Now I mostly forget to do laundry until I run out of underwear.
And I have a LOT of underwear.
Stockpiling it is a residual habit leftover from the days when I lived in an apartment with a coin-op washer and dryer. Rather than pay to do laundry, I'd go buy new socks and underwear. Because that's how I roll.
To be honest, this time I only got through about 3/4 of my underwear before I realized I was in dire need of a laundry day. I just got through all the underwear I like.
I call this the Hanging Wall of Bras. It really ought to be the Wall of Hanging Bras, but it isn't.
*Name changed to protect me from having to differentiate her from my sister, who has the same name, every time I talk about her.
This may well be my last post ever. The shopping...Oh! The shopping! I'm trying not to collapse from sheer exhaustion. Must...keep...moving. It is coming for me, and I don't know if I will survive.
Also, my left eye is probably permanently crossed.
The first act was almost 2 hours long. People, there is no excuse for that. NONE. Especially when you have the breadth and depth of talent the kids in this show exhibited. The director has some serious explaining to do. Especially since I'm pretty sure all those skits during set changes? Those boring, trite, nonsensical skits? Yeah, fairly certain those are NOT actually in the play, and here's your theatrical legality lesson of the day: It is ILLEGAL to change a play - to add or subtract anything - without the permission of the person/organization that holds the rights. And I'd say it's a fair bet that Disney is not giving permission for its plays to be altered.
The director could get in some serious trouble if anyone turned him in.
As a playwright, I have a big enough stick up my ass about this issue to do just that.
Good thing for the director that I'm super lazy.
I don't think this blog post is going to be beneficial to me when I contact them about working or volunteering. Look at how much I don't care. (I'm also smug about saying what I think.)
Today was free underwear day at Victoria's Secret. I love free stuff.
After a rather inauspicious start to the shopping day, I ended up buying what is commonly known as a crapload of shirts. Three are tank tops, which is something I have zero experience with. I'm not yet sure how I feel about them.
And no, I did not take pictures for my blog. I have not yet ascended to that level of narcissistic obsession. I take pictures because I think they give me a better idea of how clothes look than the mirror does. In fact, after uploading the pictures and seeing them larger, I think a couple of shirts I bought today are a mistake,
and there's one I kind of regret not getting, despite the unfortunate color.
And then there are the shirts that look alright, but, given time to decipher my feelings, I think I might actually hate.
Clothes shopping is hard.
Conversation in a fitting room:
Me: I hope you don't mind that I just changed in front of you.
It was hot again today. And it's supposed to be even hotter tomorrow. Despite that, I decided to make a dinner that would keep me using the rice cooker, stove, and oven for about 2 hours straight. Because I am the smart one in the family (the rest of them can barely dress themselves).
I made saffron rice (Chrissy's delicious recipe), lentils with whatever the hell I wanted to throw in, pita bread, and Holly's ginger molasses cookies. The rice and lentils turned out fine, and...wait why am I even talking about anything besides the cookies?
See that sparkling? That's magical happiness.
One roommate actually said they're the best ginger cookies he's ever tasted. I heartily concur; these are what all cookies should aspire to be. Thank you, Holly! Ginger cookies are my favorite, but this is the first time I've actually made them.
I doubled the recipe - after growing up with 5 siblings I think I might actually be incapable of NOT doubling a cookie recipe. Or any recipe at all (yeah, I ate a LOT of leftovers in college). I also added a little more ginger and cinnamon because, really, can you ever have too much ginger and cinnamon?
Also, I am convinced these cookies would be phenomenal with s'mores. Obviously I must test that hypothesis - it's scientifically irresponsible not to.
Right now I truly feel like a fireplace would solve every problem I have in the world. I could toast marshmallows if I had a fireplace.
It's been hot and since I don't have a car I have to walk everywhere, which is normally not a bad thing, except it's the WORST THING EVER when it's 80 degrees out. For those of you who think 80 degrees is not hot - you are dead to me. DEAD. Your corpses are rotting in the blistering 80 degree heat.
I didn't get out of the house at all today, due to the aforementioned Hades-like temperature, so I'm feeling a bit crabby. And by "a bit" I mostly mean that I would happily bite your head off, and not in a figurative way. CRUNCH.
I'm certain that s'mores would solve all my problems, but I don't have a fireplace.
I also managed to screw up the same page in BOTH copies of the job application Chrissy so kindly printed out for me.
The universe is conspiring to drive me insane through tiny, insignificant irritations. Slow torture. Universe, I swear, if you tap me on the shoulder one more time I am going to break your hand off.
