Ahhh Roger Ebert I don't wanna die please make it stop

And I leave you for the New Year with a message of hope.

Hope that will make you want to shit your pants. Eventually, my blog will be determined to be redundant on account of a majority of my posts linking to Ebert's blog. Roger Ebert, you are a beautiful man whose writing manipulates me in a very Machiavellian way except I don't think you realize how much power you have over me so it cannot be Machiavellian. Unless that was part of your plan too, to make me think you don't realize this. The Roger Ebert works in mysterious ways. The wind was blowing like crazy the other night and it was 54 degrees at 1 in the morning. Was that you?

Cannibalism is now okay you guys

I had a dream last night that I met Robert Downey Jr. in the form of a cup of soup. He hated it when I called him adorable, but started to bubble lovingly when I changed the adjective to "wicked manly". Robert Soupy Jr., I love you. I think you know that though. Also, you were delicious! What kind of soup were you? You looked sort of like a potato tomato pesto sort of thing. You should let me know.

An open letter to awful

Dear Elliot Davis,

You are the worst. The absolute worst. I know you somehow continue to work in the line of work you've chosen, but that is probably just God fucking with you because you are absolutely the worst at what you do. I can say this with absolute certainty after viewing just one of your films: "Twilight". That movie/series/crazy girl fandom is terrible enough on its own without your awful awful cinematography thrown in. Circling shots cut together with other circling shots? No. Just...no. Most of the rest of this movie is blacked out from my memory as a natural response from my brain to its awfulness, but I remember those god damned circling shots, damn it. I understand this may have been the director's vision, and you are only the scapegoat for my wrath. If this is the case, I am not sorry and do not retract my previous statement because, though this may make you slightly less the worst, you are still the worst. You still chose to have your name associated with the camera work on this film, and that was completely up to you. No one was putting a gun to your head telling you to "make more circle-y shots! Yes! Yes more of those. Now, from a different angle! Yesssssssss oh yesssss oh man yes more more MORE!" If someone did do that, maybe you should have taken the bullet. You would have sacrificed yourself to uphold the forward march of film. Instead, you chose to let this movie be that much more terrible with your choices. Next time, I implore you, take the bullet.

Fitfully Yours,

Throwing up Violently in Colorado

Authors Note: I was originally going to post this on IMDB but my critique of this man's camera work grew into something of a monster and I could not in good conscience put this somewhere Elliot Davis checks regularly. I still thought it was entertaining enough to post here for my three readers. Though much vomit may have been spilled by me on behalf of this film, I still love you Elliot. I'm sure you're really great, aside from this circle bullshit. The possibility exists, I suppose, that Elliot is a regular reader of my stupid blog. The good Mama knows stranger people have been known to read it...

Happy Christmas!

I hope you all have warm snuggly days with popkins and kittens and marshmellows and sunshine and snow and all other sorts of nice things!



I love each and every one of you! (Except if you are Sara because you said many mean things about me last night. But I guess I did about you too, so I take that back, I love you most of all. But you still had sex with Satan, I'm not going back on that one.)

I'm listening to Girl Talk right now, so I'm going to call this post "sampling" rather than plagiarism...

"Everything is more complicated than you think. You only see a tenth of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every choice you make. You can destroy your life every time you choose. But maybe you won't know for twenty years. And you may never ever trace it to its source. And you only get one chance to play it out. Just try and figure out your own divorce... And they say there's no fate, but there is, it's what you create. And even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are only here for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Most of your time is spent being dead, or not yet born. But while alive, you wait in vain wasting years for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right, but it never comes. Or it seems to, but it doesn't really. So you spend your time in vague regret or vaguer hope that something good will come along, something to make you feel connected, something to make you feel cherished, something to make you feel loved. And the truth is is, I feel so angry! And the truth is, I feel so fucking sad! And the truth is, I've felt so fucking hurt for so fucking long and for just as long, I've been pretending I'm okay, just to get along! I don't know why. Maybe because...no one wants to hear about my misery...because they have their own. Well, fuck everybody. Amen."

I could add to this but really there is nothing to add. It is beautiful and real and the most haunting part of "Synecdoche, New York", a movie I am still (weeks later) recovering from and discussing and thinking about. It is a movie that needs to be properly digested. Like an anaconda eating a hippo. The hippo is too big for the anaconda to eat, and the anaconda knows this. But it tries anyway. It may have to spit it back up and start all over again, and the anaconda might fail to digest the hippo for a second time. The hippo may never be fully digested.

A Very Harry Neely Day

Today two wonderful things arrived in the mail for me: The Tales of Beedle the Bard, and 'We Are Wizards'. I read and watched and read and then I think I went to the bathroom and ate some potatoes and bought some shit.

The book was okay. I don't know. I liked it, but the magic has ceased to work for me. I need to find some new magic. It is really fucking pretty though. I got the fucking expensive version because fuck you. I will probably used the hollowed out husk of the book the actual book came in to store cats or some shit. Cats and whiskey.

The movie was alright I guess too. Most parts were vaguely boring because I wasn't really into what they were saying at all. There was, of course, one exception. That exception being Brad Neely, golden god of the funny. My mom was peeking over the couch at the movie (for some reason, I don't know. She is a couch peeker) and laughing her head off. We are going to be Neely groupies, my mom and me. I never want him to actually read the books. It is much much better this way. The best part about Wizard People, Dear Reader is how much better he makes the story by being so horribly wrong about everything.

"Every Harry Potter fan should record a commentary for Harry Potter two, which would be really easy 'cause that movie is really good. [laughs uncontrolably]"

Before he made Wizard People, Neely was also in these really shitty infomercials. In one he plays a wheelchair man who is obsessed with this chick's earwax. In an outtake from the documentary, he talks about her theories about earwax:

"There are little hands in there making pancakes and tossing it out"

"Fucking candle ears."

In another one of the outtakes he goes to the zoo and berates all the animals. He is the best thing to happen to things since the beginning of stuff.

"That's like a fashion possum. Hangin' out in some kind of ewok village."

(looking at a monkey): "This is what happens if like a guy has sex with a cat."

There is a commentary track of just Brad Neely, which I am going to watch right now. It is going to be pure gold. Gold with turds in it.

Wanderlust

I've got to go go go go go go go. This is the only thing I am sure of. The only certainty in my life. The certainty of knowing you need to go off into the world. When my wanderlust is at its worst, my feet ache to find worn shoes scattered with holes to house them for the journey. My fingers flail about in misery, searching for a steering wheel. Other times my wanderlust feels like a pair of tight wool pants: annoying and itchy but bearable, for now.

I have been plotting and planning and replanning, hatching and rehatching schemes and dreams in my head. A plane trip. A road trip. Train hobo. No, a road trip. For now, the most attainable. I'm inexperienced in this sort of thing. Untested. Adventureless. I brought it up with Nicole. She seemed into the idea. We could go far off places! India, Ireland, Russia, New Zealand. Too expensive. I brought up the idea of just road tripping the country. Hop in the car without a plan. No, we need a plan. A grand one, one that will test us and make us live, really live. Force the life out of us and into the world around us. All this life bottled up safe inside our bodies, it isn't doing anything there. The world needs our lives and our lives need the world.

This can't be just a road trip. My imagination thinks of campfires on the beach, sleeping on couches, in cars next to huge expanses of motorway, under trees on a bed of springy moss, in a lonely hammock near someone's house. All of this is set to a soundtrack that would make Wes Anderson weep openly. In my head. On paper, It won't be like that. But it is at least worth a go. My brain continues to plan. I discover the joys of couch surfing. The plan is crawling. Soon it will learn to walk.

NO, Obama for America. I WILL NOT ENJOY THIS HOLIDAY MUG.

Dear Obama for America,
I won't. I don't want your "holiday mug". Your things are things I do not want. Stop sending me these electronic mails telling me that I want them. I do not want them! God, I wish you would stop. You win. You got to be in charge of this awful mug-sipping country and its awful mug-sipping people. Do not push your mug propaganda on me. I don't want it. Any of it. I will drink my coffee out of a space cup like regular people, thankyouverymuch.
Put that in your mug and sip it,
Ruth Poliakon
Co-founder, Americans for a Mugless Future

Shaq be all sorts o crazy

I don't even want to remember how I found Shaquille O'Neil's Twitter. I don't think it matters. All you need to know is it is the best thing I have ever read. Someone should get Shaq a book deal. Try to decode what he is saying! It's hours of fun for the whole family! One part weird inspirational quotes. one part some strange language I don't understand, one part always referring to himself. Mix well. Enjoy.

Here are some of Shaq's most outstanding twitters (Twits? Tweets?):

"Startn 2morro if u c a homeless person, feedem, only if u can"

"How come i have the mr rogers neighborhhood theme song stuk n my head, iz he still alive"

"Tomorro depends on what we do today Shaquille oneal"

"Just landed in new orleans, how come it still looks like nothin has been done, whos in charge" is amazing when you consider what he posted right after: "Dam i smell louisiana gumbo and jumbalaya"

"Why do they call minneapolis, the twin cities, nobody here looks a like, waaa waaa waaaaaa" Oh Shaq, you are the BEST! (no homo)

"THOSE R NOT TYPOS, JUST SAVN MONEY, MORE U TYPE MORE U PAY, LOL"

"Did u c hit dat hit yan clark put on wes walker" This is probably the greatest thing ever written by mice or man. Just read through it a few times. It is mind blowing.

(Mis)Overheard in Estes

I was in Estes today with my dad, and I overheard the following conversation:

Little Boy: Where did we park?

Dad: Right behind the red dildo.

Little Boy: Oh! There it is!

This Week in Forgotten Photos: Bob Dylan's Bloated Genius

I am frantically putting together a present for my Dad who is coming tomorrow. My sister and I are making a scrapbook journal thing of our trip to London. So I was looking through all of the photos we took, and I came across this one, which had somehow escaped my view until now, though I vividly remember taking it.


Yes, that is me in front of Bob Dylan's awful rape painting. My sister and I were in Harrods and we came upon Bob Dylan's masterpiece, "Rape is Not Sex and Cowboys and Bob Dylan is the Statue of Liberty?". I don't know if that is the real name of this painting, but that is what is should be called. There was a snobby Harrods employee right out of frame when I asked my confused sister to take this picture, and I was afraid she would not allow the strange antics of a giggling teenage American to continue in her area. But she seemed to allow it, and my sister snapped the photo.

The bloated look on my face is because Bob Dylan is raping me. And it is not sex. You have probably already seen pictures of this painting (and giggled at said pictures) but here is a closeup in case you've forgotten:

Bob Dylan, please, I love your music and you are fantastic, but please leave painting to people who know what their doing. Namely, this guy.

This just made me laugh the pants off of myself

(Click on that there picture to go read it in a much better way on Wondermark's site)

...and I'm not even wearing pants today so that is weird.

Puppets are real people too!

I just finished watching the latest Moral Orel episode ("Sacrifice"). It really got me depressed, as Moral Orel episodes are wont to do, and thinking hard. The father, Clay, gives this amazing drunken rant that shows a humanity to his character I hadn't really seen before. This season of Moral Orel has been especially depressing. It's also probably the most heartfelt show I'm watching right now. Maybe it's because the writers know this is their last season and they only have 13 episodes to do what they had planned to carry out in a few more seasons, but every episode is just...it makes me amazed at the effect little puppet people can have on me. The puppet people are 'horrible people' yes, and also puppets, but the more I watch, the more I see myself in these stupid clay things.


But back to the rant, and the reason for this post. I'm just going to quote the majority of what Clay says, because otherwise it would just get really confusing.

"...and then when you finally get one of these...coveted pieces of tail that have been built up as the grand trophy in your nothing life, you try desperately to keep it. Not to protect it, but to hoard it. To keep it away from the other wolves and jackals circling your territory. And you realize, all too soon, that you're not good enough. That maybe there was a jerkoff called Darwin after all, and that you never acknowledged his existence because you knew deep inside that you were really what you feared you were: weak and passive and ultimately broken by the ones that were made the fittest. And that through your weaknesses you built up a poison that poisoned others around you...that you love. And the only true justice was to let those dominate jackals feed on you, survive off you."

The way that Clay speaks this...he should win an award of some kind. I think this monologue hit me so hard, not because I see myself as being this sucked-dry-poisonous-horrible-shell-of-a-person that Clay is, but because I see the potential for his words to become true in my life. I've come to a conclusion. A sometimes angering and desperate and painful conclusion, but a conclusion I hope to follow, so I don't wake up one day in the middle of a drunken stupor and find myself where Clay is. Too many people get into relationships when they clearly aren't ready for said relationships. And relationships between two people who aren't emotionally ready for a relationship inevitably fail, fall apart, or end up in a poisonous cycle of poison like the one between Clay and Bloberta. Sometimes even the thought of such a relationship is enough to make it fall apart before it even gets up and walking. These relationships inevitably fail because if one or both people is insecure, they will inevitably project that insecurity onto the other person and blame them for things that are their own fault (the "poison" Clay speaks of). I happen to have found myself in this category of people quite a few times. I've beat myself up wondering why I was somehow incapable of loving another human being, and found that I didn't even love myself. In finding that, I started to question what love even meant, and whether I had ever truly loved in my life. "Well, loving your family is a given," I thought, desperately trying to find some source of love in my life. "But is it? What the hell does that mean?" Did I come out of the womb loving my mother, my sister, my pappa? Or did I learn to love them? What is it even like to love yourself? To love someone else?

I am not totally against myself. I intend to create good in the world. Not huge things, but small, everyday things. I try to let others know how much they mean to me. Is that love? It feels like love. I know I'm not a really terrible person. I mean, I don't wish bad on anyone. Or at least, for the most part I don't.

...

Yesterday I was listening to This American Life. One of the acts focused on what happens when people die alone. I don't mean alone as in not married or whatever, but really alone alone. No relatives or friends or anybody. This woman had died alone and had built herself a life in her living room. I imagined the woman building herself a cocoon. A cocoon to comfort her, to tell her everything was fine, to tell her she was not alone. There was another woman whose husband had died in one of the World Wars. Her life froze the moment she found out. For decades she had refused to move forward, to build herself a new life. I thought all this was so sad and so beautiful.

...

Should I just turn my brain off for a while, jump in the ocean and hope I can figure out to swim before I drown? I am sure some people have found themselves, and learned to love themselves while in relationships. Haven't they? I just don't think this is my path. If it were, I'm sure my brain would allow this, instead of rejecting the idea.

Sometimes I feel so empty and I just want to fill the emptiness with things that will make me better. Maybe I just have to accept the emptiness as a constant, and try to love the emptiness. Then, will the emptiness get less? Or will the fullness just become greater than the emptiness, making the emptiness seem not so empty? Thank you Moral Orel, for sparking this thinking thing. For as depressing as you are, for as depressing as this post may appear on the outside, it really shouldn't be depressing at all. In fact, it is the opposite of depressing. It is growth. A growth toward something bigger and fuller and happier and fatter. I hope I will have nicer dreams tonight than the dreams I dream while I am awake.

Oh God

The couch is pulsing. Is there something living inside it?

That is all.

Things that can apparently make me cry...

1. "Sasha and Malia, you've earned the new puppy that will be coming with us to the White House." Puppies always bring out my emotional side. Presidential puppies?! Definitely cry worthy.

2. Ebert's blog post, which I read at 4:00 this morning, made me weep like a hosepipe. I love you Roger Ebert.

3. Rewatching Obama's speech this morning. Something about last night made it seem completely unreal. My mind rejected the fact that the election was over, after months and months of obsessively following everything. I think this is finally sinking in today. It's a good feeling.

4. Hearing Condoleezza Rice's emotional comments this morning, I was surprised to find myself tearing up at Condi's words. I'm not quite sure why. I think I might just be overly emotional.

(5.) Prop 8 (and other similar initiatives) passing. This doesn't count in the same way as the other four things (thus the parentheses) because I was crying for a completely different reason. I am still determined and optomistic, however heartbreaking this news is at the moment, that I will in my lifetime see same sex marriage become recognized under law in the entire country. For my mama's sake.

I realize that Obama supporters all over the country are currently celebrating their butts off, while others are upset and worried for this country. I sincerely wish those who are disappointed do not take the following comments as gloating, talking down to or putting their views down in any way, because that is antithetical to my point. But, in my completely unasked for opinion, this election (no matter your political beliefs) can bring change that doesn't favor either party, change that doesn't really even come from politicians. In the past 24 hours I have felt a distinct and profound change in the way people are looking at the world. I have seen people - cynical, angry, tired people like myself - become overjoyed and proud of the country they live in. Hope doesn't feel like a mindless slogan anymore. It is instead a feeling which has never before today applied to my thoughts about this country. I've talked to a lot of people who feel the same. So I hope this feeling of optimism prevails, I hope people continue to hope that things will get better, and I hope people will then work to actually make things get better. Because this whole mess the world is in will be difficult enough to overcome on its own. Belief is huge. And though belief by itself will not fix any of the world's problems, it is only when people truly believe the world can change, that the opportunity for change actually arrives.

Get Out the (Naked) Vote!

I just found out that it is illegal to electioneer within 100 ft of a polling place in Colorado. I think we all know what that means. Wear all your Obama or McCain or Nader or Barr (just kidding...no one will vote for Barr) t-shirts, underwear, and pants to the polling place, then when the people there tell you to remove your things, you get to vote naked! Or you could just forgo all of the above and just show up naked. Either way, GOTNV!

Wandicorn and TV on the Radio

Ahh! Guys, so much is happening! I'm not busy by any stretch of the imagination, since I no longer have a job to rape me of my waking hours, but I have been doing a lot and having the most fun!


As you could probably not guess from the above crappy cell phone picture, I just got back from seeing TV on the Radio in Denver. It was extreme. Those guys were pretty cool guys. My sister, her boyfriend, my cousin and I went out to eat before the concert at this really spiffy vegetarian restaurant called the Watercourse (I think that's what it was called) and while we were eating delicious sandwiches and such Beardy from TV on the Radio walks in! Whooo, Beardy! I don't really know his name, but if you've ever seen pictures of TV on the Radio or have seen them on TV or live or whatever, you'll know which one I'm talking about. My sister's boyfriend talked to him, and I peeked around the corner from the back of the restaurant like a goof. The concert was a most rad time, though. They played all of their best songs and, though they aren't the best band live in a musical sense, they really brought the energy. We also all agreed that it was really refreshing to see a band perform live that wasn't completely wasted. Man was that lead singer sweaty though. Wah.

I guess I'll just go backwards from there and tell you guys about Purple Rain, which is a movie staring and about Prince that I watched last night. I'm not necessarily a Prince fan (though I do enjoy some of his songs), but that movie just oozed sex. Prince knows he is too cool for the rest of us to handle. He did this dance while singing "Darling Nikki" that made me laugh hysterically. It was sort of a self head groping something. I guess what you should take away from this story is go watch Purple Rain.

The day before the Prince madness was Halloween, which was very fun because Parker had a hoppin' party and I got to show off my costume me and my momma worked very hard on. Wandicorn is where all the love in my life stems from, so it was very incredible dressing up like this majestic creature. Here is a picture my mom took of me in my costume today:


I submitted my costume into two contests on the internet, so maybe I might win something. Hopefully. I also secretly hope that Harry and the Potters find out about my costume and become my groupie. You gotta dream big people. I am dreaming big.

Harry Potter Trailer Sparks Riot at Obama Rally

Fort Collins, CO - Thousands of Democrats created mass panic Sunday at an Obama rally for reasons that have nothing to do with McCain's claim earlier that morning on NBC's "Meet the Press" that Obama will "thrust into...Americans right now...whether...[t]hey want...it...or...not".

Instead, Democrats packing the Oval at Colorado State University became violent and extremely angry when, upon hearing word that a second trailer for Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince had recently leaked on the Internet, volunteers and security personnel informed the "Potter" enthusiasts by loud speaker they could not leave the venue due to "security reasons".

After the announcement was made, the audience fired back at their captors, yelling such things as "terrorist" and "Voldemort is behind this, mark my words!"

An angry crowd of Democratic Potter fans disrupts an otherwise dull Obama rally, throwing beach balls and people about in anger.

Harold Haglethorpe was one such rabble-rouser. "I find it absolutely disrespectful and elitist of the Obama campaign to force a crowd to stay here when they know we'd much rather be at home, in the comfort of our living rooms catching a much needed glimpse at our favorite boy wizard's next adventures. Before today, I thought Voldemort was firmly on the Republicans' side, but after this, I can no longer say that with confidence."

Other attendees were similarly enraged at the Obama campaign.

Lifelong Democrat Carole Machala started a petition which aimed to "let the public know of the obvious conspiracy taking place between the WB and the DNC". "First they move our precious movie back nine whole months, and now this? I can't even begin to imagine what they have in store for us..."

Several others took a more active approach and were seen running through the crowd of about 45,000 people trying to hex security officers and police.

Democratic hopeful Betsy Markey attempted to take the stage but was drowned out by boos and a torrent of Obama buttons tossed at her by audience members. No others attempted addressing the crowd after Markey as supporters tore down the podium in anger shortly after Markey was escorted off by security.

The Obama campaign was unavailable for comment, though at the time a field organizer was heard saying "This is it, it's all over folks. The dream is [expletive] lost. [Expletive]."

Political advisers on both sides say this could be the momentum breaker McCain needed in the days leading up to the election. Polls across the nation are already showing significant dents in the Obama lead.

As of this writing, the angry crowd had broken out of the Oval and started making its way across America, picking up members as it went. There is yet no word on whether any of the supporters have seen the trailer yet. In the words of one onlooker, "God help us if they do."



New International trailer for Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.

Why I Know Parker is Great

Everyone should already love Parker, because he's great, but this is just one more reason to love him. I took this video of him without his knowledge yesterday at the Obama rally in Ft. Collins, and it is one of the funniest and most adorable things I've ever seen. This guy asked us all to pray before the rally began, but Parker was too busy listening to the Blood Brothers to notice. We tried containing our laughter out of respect. It was the hardest thing I've ever done.



Great Job!

Charlie Kaufman Articulates Things Like Nobody's Business

I just read this interview with Charlie Kaufman (he's a screenwriter, you guys...look it up) and, wow. I mean, I understand he is a professional writer, and I'm just some schmuck who can't write for the life of her, but he just...wow.

Charlie Kaufman's thoughts : me :: I can not articulate this analogy. Kaufman would be much better at this sort of thing.

I can't even write an adequate analogy. Perhaps an equation would be better:

Charlie Kaufman's thoughts > 552(x + y), where x = anything I have ever thought, ever and y = all the happiness in the world

Okay, so perhaps that's overstating and exaggerating things. I just really love the way he puts things. He'll say things like "It's a problem and it's not a problem.", "Yes and no.", and "Sometimes and sometimes not." when first responding to the interviewer's questions which might seem repetitive and contradictory, but is also the perfect way to encapsulate what he says in the rest of his response. The way that he goes about writing is something I aspire to, and I'm not even a writer. His search for truth and honesty in writing no matter what is something I really admire. His approach seems more like an approach to life more than it is strictly an approach to writing, and that's what I admire about it. He's not trying to follow a formula or a plan. He's trying to put forth a more accurate version of life in his writing, one that is confusing and not laid out beforehand and encompasses all of our past, present, and future experiences. I'm very much looking forward to seeing Synecdoche, New York (which, coincidentally, I've just learned how to say...si-nek-duh-kee. I think that's right).

In other news, I got tickets to see of Montreal in Denver next month, which I'm really excited about. Of Montreal is on a short list of bands I have made a pact to see if the opportunity arises, so I'm happy I get to see them. I haven't listened to their new album, Skeletal Lamping in full yet, but I'm working my way through it as of this writing, and I like the craziness that I hear so far. Speaking of hearing craziness, I have been listening to ridiculous amounts of The Bugle, an "audio newspaper for a visual world". It's hilarious and British and I can not recommend it enough. (subscribe via iTunes here)

I'm also working diligently on my Halloween costume, which is coming together better than I could have expected. I have the tentacles sewed and am halfway through the dragon wings. I'll probably post something more detailed about how I made it on here in the future. So you all have that to look forward to.

Sleeping

If I could get rid of one thing from my life, it would be sleeping. It takes up far too much time. I just took an afternoon nap that stretched into evening and now I have to go back to sleep. What has sleeping ever done for me besides doing some very important things for me? I don't really know what sleep does exactly. Is it necessary? I'm pretty sure scientists think it is, but I don't know if they have a grip on the way things are. What if we just tried really hard not to sleep? Would it work?

Oh my God, you guys. Apparently, I was completely wrong. Sleep is real, you guys. We need it. Or else we die. So I guess I will just go to sleep. I guess it is not all bad, because if it weren't for sleep, then dreaming wouldn't exist. Neither would sleeping disorders, which are very nice as well. And snoring. And sleep walking and talking, which are adorable. And peeing the bed. Also, beds would not exist if we did not sleep anymore. I think we need to petition for more sleep. Add your name if you agree with me on this. We can also petition for sleep to be added to the Constitution. Somewhere in the sentence about the pursuit of Happiness. I actually think that was the Declaration of Independence. So it should be added to that instead, just so Britain knows too. We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, plenty of Sleep on nice comfy beds with lots of pillows and warm warm blankets, and the pursuit of Happiness.

I Was The Hulk

I was totally the hulk in my dream last night. It was fantastic. It was also weird though, because while I was the hulk, I was also watching the movie of me being the hulk with my friends. We were in Minnesota, which (I didn't know this until I dreamt it) is a tundra.

I think this must mean that I have triple personalities.

That is all. Continue to go about your business.

Adorable Moment of the Week

I promise this is not a political blog (maybe), but just this once I am going to talk about something vaguely political. Because it needs to be discussed. And seen.


How can John McCain be so adorable? This is seriously the cutest and most amazingly funny thing I've seen in a long time. Awww! Every time I look at this picture, I just get all warm and squidgy inside. Which is not a reaction I am used to when looking at two politicians and one Bob Schieffer. Just look at it for two minutes, then look me in the eye and tell me your heart isn't melting. What is he doing?! Oh my God I want to hug him!

Here is my reaction in picture form for those who are visual learners:


Yes, the rainbow background does imply I was tripping at the time. Very astute of you.

Intentions

My intentions for this blog are as follows:
1. I will post little things from my day, if I feel like it.
2. I will discuss ideas, thoughts, and random nonsense that pop into my head.
3. I will try to be correctgrammar-wise. No promises, because then I will have already failed you.
4. Funny things, you betcha*
5. Updates from my life, maybe? If anything interesting happens.
6. Can't think of anything else right now. This list is open to being amended, if ratified by a 2/3rds majority.
What do you** want from my blog?

*no bets
**everyone who reads this, so maybe .5 persons in the known universe, including me (yes I read my own blog)

Attempts

There is one thing that must be brought up if we are to make attempts at understanding each other, which is that as soon as a thought leaves my head and rests on the page, it instantly becomes untrue. My mind changes it's mind so often and with such force and conviction, that to try to capture my thoughts accurately and truly is impossible.