Mystery Science Theater 3000

There comes a time in every young adult's life when they are first introduced to the wonder that is Mystery Science Theater 3000. I remember my MST3K de-virginization like it was yesterday: I was at my friend Kacey's house, and we were watching tv; Kacey remembered it was 8pm or what have you, and an awesome show as on that I would like; and then there it was - Prince of Space! Chicken aliens, lasers that don't do anything, and lots of shiny spandex. It was heaven on earth. Or heaven in space.

Cluck.

From that moment on, I obsessed over the show, catching every episode that I could, which eventually translated into buying way too many collections of the show on DVD - it cost nearly an arm and a leg, but for you, MST3K, I will bravely face amputation. It's everything that's wrong in the world, wrapped neatly in the beauty of everything that's right in the world. Take now, for instance - a movie about a zombie knock off of Rocky? With heaving man nipples and all? Made pure perfection.

9 out of 10 times I prefer Mike as the host, though Joel holds a stoned, sleepy, who-gives-a-shit place in my heart. And I can never quite decide if I like Pearl or Dr. Forrester better, though I do know that TV's Frank is the man I will someday marry. I love you, Frank.

Sophie's Hilarious Choice

Even today, some 12 years later (oh my god), the show remains a bastion of purity and amazingness, a comfort blanket for the wicked, a beautiful reminder of all that is pure in this world. And it's an amazing way to spend a night when all your friends and roommates are off being "adults" and "working" and all of that nonsense that Joel, Mike, Crow, and Tom Servo turn their noses up at. Then mock endlessly. Amen.

An Ode to Marco

Just kidding. I'm really writing about the other smelly, hairy, un-bathed animal in my life.

Jazz!

Oh, Jazz.

About a month ago Jazz had some sneezing and appropriately semi-icky eye gook - pretty standard for dog allergies, and whatnot. Then two weeks ago, she started waking up with her eyes all stuck together, and I'd have to pry them apart with tissue paper, which would then just get stuck, and then it'd make her look like Lady Gaga:


...or Groucho Marx. Interesting, as I actually copied and pasted Lady Gaga's eyelashes onto Jazz's face. Hmm.

Anyway, one day she woke up and her eyes were completely glued shut, and she was bouncing off of everything and falling down more stairs than usual, so I decided to finally take the poor thing to the vet. Turns out minor allergies turned into a raging eye infection, turned into a raging skin infection, required a weed whacker to clear her poor face. Several hours of face clippings and a bottle of doggy tranquilizers later, and my poor, shaking, crying dog was deposited back into my loving arms.

She cried all the way home, and then some; it was heartbreaking. It's like having a crying, ancient, hairy, mute baby that can't defend itself or even hold its head up properly, poured into the passenger side seat, shaking for an hour long car ride.

Luckily today she's doing better, and other than the face... thing, the vet gave her a clean bill of health. July 22nd will be her fifteenth birthday, so appropriate festivities will ensure: adult diapers, non-solid foods, padding on sharp corners, and most important of all, a young caretaker to hold you and cuddle you, even when your face is dripping gook and you smell like you just rolled in mounds of trash. Which you probably did.

Oh That's Right...

I do have a blog! I could chalk it up to the Post Concussive Syndrome (PCS if I want to stay edgy and relevant) but the truth of the matter is... well, there's a lot of tequila in this world, and someone's got to drink it.

Alcoholic antics aside (hello, assonance!) life has been a big bundle of busy (hello, consonance!) and I haven't had much time since January to sit down, bang away at my keyboard, and hope that something semi-inspired appears. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, etc. etc. My delightful boyfriend suggested that I start actually writing in this thing again, and who am I to argue with the man that actually encourages my neuroses? So, as I eat my Ramen with a side of Slim Jims (you think I'm kidding?), it's time to hunker down and get some solid writing done. And what better way to do that than with a pointless list??

Things That Have Happened Since January: A Compendium of Things That Have Happened Since January to Chelsea and the World at Large

1. I got a new job! Gone are the days of getting punched in the head, held hostage in transport vehicles, and having to restrain myself from murdering someone. Or several someones. And the students, too.

2. I have Post Concussive Syndrome! Oh yes, as I am always on top of the newest fads and crazes, I thought it pertinent to grab the reigns on the bandwagon before everyone else started jumping on all willy nilly. It's been manageable for the most part, in regards to my daily activities, but the migraines, anxiety and PTSD regarding everysinglethingthateveryhappenedatmyoldjob are kind of a bummer. It's cool not to cry every day before work though, so there's chinning up for you.

3. Rue McClanahan, Dennis Hopper, and Gary Coleman died. Somewhere, a punchline died too.

4. Red #1 has a boyfriend. Told you guys I was gonna broadcast it for everyone to see!

5. Jazz is still alive! It's a miracle! I've been trying to get her groomed for the past month or so, as she has allergies and her eyes are disgusting and matting the fur around them, so that she stumbles blindly into walls and such (okay, that's not any different than normal, but still) and all I want is for someone who's not me (i.e. someone that won't stab her in the eye with the scissors) to cut her damn hair and wash her damn face. But! All of the groomers say she's too old, and that they won't do anything if she struggles. So there goes that. Next step: weed whacker!

6. I'm once again having a crisis, and wanting to run all over the world madly, until something inspires me to chill the fuck out, sit the fuck down, and start my life. But we all know that won't happen, so here's to madcap adventures. Next stop: Maine...!...? Well, it's a start. We're hitting up Maine for the 4th of July, so that's something to look forward to. Then there's Vegas in August for a friend's birthday extravaganza, Florida in March for THE HARRY POTTER THEME PARK, and desperately fitting in an LA trip when everyone's schedules coordinates. If this doesn't help with my wanderlust, I'm screwed.

So that about sums up all of the massively important World and Chelsea Events. If that's not scintillating news, then I just don't know what else is. Tune in next week when I forget that I posted, and write up the exact same thing for your enjoyment.