Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Things I Find on Wikipedia

Now, if I was a doctor, and I was - for some reason - coining syndrome names, I'm pretty sure that the word "floppy" would never be included in my list of possibilities. The term has a bit of a humorous conotation, and, for the majority of people, humorous terms aren't supposed to be used to describe any syndrome that an infant has. Unless it's Winston Churchill Syndrome, which my parents gleefully used to describe me, because I went through a several month period in which I could've hidden coins, shoes, or Switzerland in my jowls. But I digress.

I was playing on Wikipedia, looking up when to take my Ativan for tomorrow's flight (because if you don't know by now, I do not enjoy flying under any circumstance, even if I'm going somewhere awesome) and happened to find a link to the Floppy Infant Syndrome page. Whoa whoa whoa, what? I know, I had the same reaction.

Apparently Floppy Infant Syndrome is when infant's have the "condition of abnormally low muscle tone (the amount of tension or resistance to movement in a muscle), often involving reduced muscle str
ength." So, granted, not hilarious per se, but it's easily managed if you catch it early enough, so really it's not like I'm being a bad person for being overly joyful about this name. 

I mean seriously, the possibilities of what you can do with a Floppy Baby are endless:

- Fold them up for easy travel
- Decorative coverlet
- ShamWow substitute 
- Stretch Armstrong-esque amusement for your other children
- You know how putty can be used to take impressions of newspaper? Yeah, that
- For some reason I'm assuming they bounce

I also think they'd fit nicely in your sock drawer - and I say this because my parents put me in a sock drawer for the first few months of my life, and while I was admittedly a preemie, I certainly wasn't able to be folded up for convenient storage, so I'm really not sure how that worked. Thanks, mom, dad. So if you've ever wondered why I'm the way I am, blame my parents and their dresser. 

It's Time for a Temporary Change

Today's Boston Forecast:

Snowed like a motherfucker this morning, then began pouring freezing rain. Temperature as of 4:35pm:




Today's West Palm Beach* Forecast:

Warm and Fair. Temperature as of 4:35pm:



*And yes I'm actually going to West Palm Beach, which I just found out. But hey, that still means a fabulous boutique hotel, access to a car, gorgeous beaches, and plenty of high end shops that I can't afford to shop at but will blow my first paycheck on anyway. I also plan on getting myself a sweet spa deal, with some combination of a massage, a facial, and/or a mani/pedi. Sometimes I really love life. 

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Yay for Good News

Here are my Good News Nuggets of the Week:

1. I no longer have The Plague!
2. I'm going to Miami this Thursday!
3. I lost 5 pounds!
4. I had a margarita last night!

It really is the little things in life. I have like 40000 things to do this week before I go to Florida, but everything seems to be on the up 'n up. Especially because I'm healthy again so I can drink again. Having a frozen strawberry margarita last night was like the highlight of the month. That was also right before we went to see the premiere of my brother's skate video, which was ridiculously good. I can't even stand on a skateboard, let alone attempt coasting down the driveway, so when I see him and his friends flipping all over the place, jumping huge staircases, and soaring over dangerously pointy fences, I'm pretty much in awe.

This post is kind of pointless, but I wanted to let everyone know I'm alive and kicking. Really, it's the little things.

Friday, January 16, 2009

The Plague

So it would appear I have The Plague (and yes, that deserves to be capitalized.) Everyone at work has it, so of course two days after I start, I end up looking - and feeling - like the walking dead. Here's a picture of us at lunch time, so you can get a better idea of how we look:

Don't I look cute in my blue button down?

I've been living off of turkey soup, water, and tea for the past three days, and I'm actually surprised that at this point, I'm not rolling everywhere. I didn't think it was possible for someone to consume this much liquid, but I guess you learn something new every day. 

I've been sucking down DayQuil and NightQuil as needed, but seeing as I actually have Bronchitis, it's really not doing all that much. Sure, I'm a little more alert for an hour or so, but the whole time I'm still grossing everyone out by attempting to hack up both of my lungs. I can't breathe anyway, so I may as well get rid of them. 

And, of course, I was just bragging two weeks ago about how I haven't been sick in soooo long. Yeah, that'll teach me. Mouth, meet foot. 

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

I Love You Jerry!

OMG I love the old guy on Biggest Loser, and his sad little puppy face when he learned he only lost one pound this week just about tore my heart out of my chest :( 

I love you, Jerry. And fuck Joelle! They should've kicked her sorry ass out on principle, she doesn't want to be there and doesn't want to put the effort in. They should've kept the old man - especially because he's like 100, and can do things that would leave me winded.

Jerry



Operation Bikini

So I need to lose 10 pounds by the end of the month because I'm going to South Beach for a weekend! My fancy new job is sending my increasingly large ass to Miami for work, and while I'll technically only have one day to frolic around on the beach, I'll still be in South Beach and therefore must look absolutely amazing.

Usually it's not a problem for me to lose weight; I think about being skinny, and I lose the pounds. Right now, though, thanks to the pill (well actually some thanks to the pill, I can still fill out my bras) I can't seem to lose one freaking pound. The past week I've been diligently working out, eating salads, drinking water, and not snacking (at all!) and I've lost... nothing. I'm the same weight I was before. It's terrible.

I need to look like this: 

Minus the buttaface

Though right now I'm afraid this will end up being my Miami vacation:


BRB running 5 miles.

Monday, January 12, 2009

Spring is in the Purse

So I've decided what bag I'd like for my spring wardrobe. It's delightfully ugly pretty, and even though I'd only use it for one season and then forget about it (in my closet, with the rest of the bags I just had to have) I want it so badly I can taste it. I would sell my brother on the black market for it. I would kill in cold blood for it.

It's the Fendi Ombre Jacquard Chef Bag, which is currently only on pre-order:
Whoever buys this for me at the low, low price of $1,100, I will perform unspeakably dirty sex acts on. You know you want to.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

The Unborn Should Stay Unborn

You know a horror movie's bad when, during the first "scary scene", the entire audience bursts out laughing rather than screaming out in horror. And you know you're really doomed when the entire audience commences gleefully tearing the movie apart, rather than bickering over who's talking during what scene, and the usual onslaught of "shhh's!" 

The opening scene of The Unborn was, apparently, supposed to be a scary, ominous scene that set the tone for the rest of the movie. Instead, there was some mess of a small, ugly boy (enough with the spooky children, Hollywood!), an aqua glove, a bulldog wearing a mask (?) and a buried fetus in a jar. I guess now we all know where babies come from, at any rate. 


So we have our 'heroine' (who I find debatable at best), the supposed-to-be-attractive Odette Yustman (of Cloverfield 'fame') who somehow manages to look sickly thin and awkwardly acne-scar-marked in just about every frame. She spends most of the movie changing eye colors, jogging in the frigid cold of a Chicago fall/winter (it would seem that the seasons regularly rocket back and forth, with no sign of a spring or summer to be found), and running from some combination of the creepy young boy she babysits for, and some kind of Jewish demon which Gary Oldman (someone owed someone a favor!), as Rabbi Sendack, describes as a dybbuk. Whatever floats your boat, I guess. 

Yustman's acting is deplorable, and we never once feel anything even close to pity or worry for her. In fact, within the first ten minutes, we were all hoping she'd just hurry up and die already. I think at this point, I'd rather watch a movie based solely on Jumby.

Oh, wait, a Jumby? you ask? Let me explain. Apparently Yustman's character - Casey - was born a twin, but managed to strangle her fetus brother to death with her own umbilical cord. Considering they were little more than a clump of cells at the time, and there's no way in hell Casey had the brain power, muscle power, or, you know, body, to really plot and carry out a murder, she decides that she's to blame, and runs around screaming about her brother this, and her brother that, and in the end, it's no surprise that that her father (James Remar, the first of two Dexter actors that unwisely agreed to appear in this film) conveniently goes on a business trip and disappears after the first 15 minutes of the movie. I wouldn't be able to deal with that much unncessary whining either. Anyway, "Jumby" is the nickname her parents gave the boy fetus in the womb. Because there's nothing more frightening than a Jumby, especially during the laughable lecture hall scene, in which Casey sees Jumby wants to be born written on the whiteboard, and then realizes she's filled her page of notes with the same words. It's Jumby time! If only it didn't sound so much like a combination of Gumby and Jumbo shrimp. Kind of makes me hungry. 

So poor Casey's mother went insane and ended up hanging herself (so that's why her father skipped town!) and it was all very tragic, and apparently her insane asylum was in a castle or something, and her mother had wonky eye issues with her brown eyes changing to a blue color only found in a Special Edition box of Crayolas, and oh, did I mention that this is all because of the Holocaust?


Casey fleetingly mentions something about her mother having been adopted but never having known her birth parents, and then conveniently Casey finds some clippings from her mother's collection that talk about a Holocaust survivor named Sofi. So, of course, Sofi ends up being her biological grandmother, and a mini reunion ensues. But wait! Our Sofi was, of course, a twin! But then that wacky Josef Mengele got his hands on the twins, and in a lovely, souless exploitation of the horrors of the Holocaust, had the pleasure of injecting that Crayola blue into Sofi's twin's eyes, and then oops killed him, and then oops opened a door to another universe that let in the demon and so on and so forth.

Now, as a Jew myself, I'm not prone to being overly touchy. But once in awhile, someone pulls something like this, and I find myself becoming very offended, and my hands itch to throttle someone. You do not pull the Holocaust into a shitty horror movie because you think it'll add some weight to the film and make it more plausible. The entire thing was so groan inducing that even the pre-teens around us were uncomfortable and asking whether or not writer/director David S. Goyer had lost his freaking mind. Although I'm still more offended that they thought something called Jumby was going to frighten us, and that something like this picture would actually strike fear into the hearts of the moviegoers. Word to the wise, Goyer, we've seen this done a million times.


Know what else we've also seen a million times? Someone all contorted and spider-like crawling up or down stairs (The Grudge), someone making that weird comb/gurgling noise (The Grudge), head spinning (The Exorcist), old people (Grumpy Old Men), creepy children (The Ring, Hide and Seek, The Sixth Sense, The Shining, The Omen, The Others, Village of the Damned, The Exorcist, Silent Hill, etc etc etc.) , too-skinny heroines (Cloverfield, The Eye, anything with any Hollywood starlet in it), exorcisms (The Exorcist, The Exorcism of Emily Rose) a nonsensical plot (most recent horror movies) and so on and so forth. In fact, everything's been done so many times that the entire movie is one, big, stinking cliche. There's no level of imagination, no creativity, no thought put into this whatsoever. They figured a few cheap scares, some faces popping out of darkened rooms, and the whole Holocaust debacle would be enough to carry the movie. Sorry, kids, but you failed. Miserably.

Oh, and Jumby's born after all, because of course Casey is pregnant, and of course she's having twins. Oops, did I ruin the end for you? Good.

Afterwards, Jen and I decided that Jumby was going to be our new catch phrase, because we thought we had to take something away from the movie (other than a bad taste in our mouths, and the annoyance that we'd actually shelled out $10 each to see it.) I guess you could say this movie was one hell of a Jumby.


Friday, January 9, 2009

I Looked Into the Face of Evil

And lived to tell the tale.

Today, I was a substitute teacher for a class of first and second graders. First and second graders. Not only do I still have all my limbs, and my full supply of blood, but I actually kind of enjoyed it. It probably would've been an easier day if I hadn't taken a drunken fall on icy stairs the other night, and effectively destroyed my once lucious legs, but you know me - never one to take it easy.

More later, once I sleep for 24 hours straight and recover. 

Monday, January 5, 2009

Happy 2009!


I used to be able to party nonstop for days at a time, with only a few hours of sleep here and there to keep me running, but it seems like that peaked somewhere around the age of 21. Now, at the ripe old age of 23, it takes quite a few days to recover from a week of drinking, smoking, and eating far too much. Hence the reason I've been in bed for two days now, drinking copious amounts of water to rehydrate myself and wondering when the spinning sensation will finally stop.

It's hard to believe that it's already 2009. This means I graduated from college two years ago, graduated from high school six years ago, and graduated from the preschool in which we found out my teacher was actually a dominatrix with ads in the Phoenix twenty years ago. TWENTY YEARS AGO. I wonder where Miss Jenna is now, and whether she still has a taste for leather.

Leather-wielding preschool teachers aside, I think 2009 is going to be a good year. I've already made up a list of Resolutions, and I intend to at least stick with them for a month. Preferably several, but I don't want to set myself up for disappointment.

- Move
- Cut out 99% of the junk food I still try to sneak
- Work out every day, regardless of ovarian issues
- Thoroughly enjoy the decriminalization of weed in Mass

So far, so good. I wanted to add in "Be a better person" and "Don't judge others (quite so much)" but one step at a time here, people. I am only human.

In addition, there are several things coming up in 2009 that I'm positively gleeful about:

- My Bloody Valentine in 3-D
- Officially hitting my mid-twenties and not having a complete breakdown
- The Lost season 5 premiere 
- Thoroughly enjoying the decriminalization of weed in Mass

See? I'm already making strides.