My Name is Awesome

Days till Halloween: 12

"The movie My Name is Bruce is the heroic struggle of a small mining town (Gold Lick, Oregon) to rid itself of a vengeful monster. Guan-di, the Chinese god of war, protector of the dead and patron saint of bean curds, has been unleashed by cemetery-desecrating teenagers to protect the graves of Chinese miners lost in a deadly cave-in of yesteryear."

What, I don't even, oh my god- Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Since it's that team of year again - when I get the Plague and mid-October! - I am, of course, home sick, lounging in a nest on my bed with the dogs, watching the SyFy channel and shedding tears of admiration at the onslaught of terribly delightful horror movies that have been parading past my screen for the past 6 or so hours.

Given that I absolutely have to go back to work tomorrow, I'm forcing myself to lounge in bed, half napping half watching tv, saving my strength so I can get back on my feet. My usual MO is to either power through work to the point of keeling over, or to run around the house while I'm sick which results in then mostly dying and missing a week or so of work, and this time just won't cut it. So here I am, drinking tea, staying in bed, and behaving. Well I never.

It helps that I'm watching an hour and a half of this epic movie, in which I get to hear Bruce Campbell utter such iconic lines as "I don't know you but I love you", "Does this make my ass look fat?" and "Consider yourself officially exempt from my wrath sweetcakes, and if you're lucky a little later I'll let you play with my boomstick." It's Bruce Campbell playing Bruce Campbell, and life just doesn't get any better than that.

Except for BubbaHo-Tep.

Dear Barrister

You know those chain emails you always get, from a lawyer in some random country, who declares that you are the long lost kin of a Baron or Lord who conveniently - and recently - died a messy death? And how they want to work with you to send you, roughly, seven or so million dollars, in exchange for just a few measly tidbits of personal information? Of course you do, because you get them all the time.

Well, I've received one too many lately, and I decided it was time to take a stand against them. Not because they're digging for my personal information, and not because they spam me relentlessly, but because they are written so poorly, so incorrectly, that it's time someone took a stand and did something about it.





And here we go:

NaNoWriMo: The Bastardized Version

For those of you in the know, NaNoWriMo (also known as National Novel Writing Month) is an annual novel writing project, held in November, that "brings together professional and amateur writers from all over the world." The concept is simple - if difficult - enough: write a novel in a month.

I've supposed to have joined, what, seven times now? Eight? (Good god, has it been that long?) but, true to form, I always completely fail to even write a title on the ubiquitous, glaring white of the empty Microsoft Word doc. Whoops.

Course, also true to form, when I finally decide to do it, I decide to do it off season, when no one else is even contemplating such insanity, and I embrace it wholeheartedly, telling anyone who will listen just how amazing I am and how amazing my book is going to be, and so on and so forth. And it will be! Just take it from me. I know things.

Also, it's about zombies. Obviously.

So, long story short (har har), August is my NaNoWriMo. Weekends are free for alls, and my work schedule for the month is 12pm-9pm; I'll be going into the city with Tyler for his 9am-normal shift, and I'll spend those three hours banging away on my laptop in the Barnes & Noble in the Pru.

Bring it.

The Good Life

I would just like you all to know that I have been drinking mojitos since 10am, eating cheese and cracker platters, gossiping, enjoying the sun, and am now going to take a nap to prepare myself for the remainder of my day.

You are very welcome for the chance to experience a momentary glimpse into my glamorous life.

Going to Sweden!

Sweden, Maine, that is.

Want to get wild? Crazy? Live the high life? Where better to do so than in Sweden! With a population of 324 as of the 2000 census, and the only actual store in town A sort of ammunition trading post that resembles something from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Sweden is the place to be for the rich and famous this 4th of July Holiday!



All kidding and chainsaw-wielding mutant psychopaths aside (at least until we get up there), Kristyn's cabins up in Sweden are a godsend. The cabins aren't all that far from Bridgton (which doesn't count as an actual town in most of the real world, but is one of those charming little Maine hamlets that tourists can't get enough of), but they're definitely off the beaten path, and they seem like they're on another, leafier, greener planet. With the lake feet from the cabins, a shed full of firewood, and unbridled freedom, we're hours away from a heavenly escape.

Kristyn's right: you get the best sleep of your life up there. With the warm breeze, the lake smell, the fresh air... all you want to do is sleep between jaunts into town, trips to the beach, and drinking glutenous amounts of alcohol. We're going up en masse, with 8 people, 2 dogs, and - did I mention glutenous drinking? - enough alcohol to quench the thirst of a small country. Ah, the joys of vacation.

I'll be back next weekend. If I can be pried away, that is. Happy birthday, America, and happy vacation, us.

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.

Hi, I'm Alive

OH MY GOD.

I haven't written anything in here since October.

Oops.

I still have nothing to write, other than to say that I have a concussion from work, and that I've been out of work since January 5th.

Dramatic Re-enactment. I actually got punched in the head, rather than beating my own head off the wall. Impressively intelligent, I know. I'm making big strides these days.

Needless to say, I'm going out of my mind with all the free time (and alone time, when my roommates and roommate honorees are gone.) I am so not talented at entertaining myself for longer than an hour at a time. I can't even write a blog entry at this point to keep things interesting.

So here's a list of things that are current in my life, since that's all I'm good for at the moment:

- Jazz is still alive
- I miss work, concussion and all
- I'm still insane, but working on it
- The Celtics just lost to frigging Detroit
- I've been writing a little bit!
- Jen got me ROSETTA STONE IN ALL THE LANGUAGES so I've been having way too much fun learning new languages, aka mixing them all up and bastardizing all of Europe. Go me!

You Can't Just GO to Pigfarts - It's On MARS

What's better than Harry Potter? Why, a parody of Harry Potter, that's what. Jen turned me on to what actually might be The Greatest Thing I've Ever Seen, aka A Very Potter Musical. It's a parody play put on by students from the University of Michigan, and it's simply magical. No pun intended. It's on the longer side, but worth it.




Highlights totally include the amazing Draco (who's in love with Hermione and wants to go to Pigfarts, which is, inconveniently, on Mars), the sassy Snape, and a really boss Zefron poster. Also, Voldemort never wears a shirt.

You're welcome.