If you’ve thought to yourself, “Hey, this blog doesn’t get updated often at all,” you’d be 100% correct.
It doesn’t.
My Tumblr, however, gets updated far more often.
You should follow me there.
After taking a break from the last movie to make dinner (tacos, beans, rice and pina coladas nom nom nom), we have started Rocky Horror Picture Show. Let the games begin!
4:50 – Lips fade into a cross. SYMBOLISM MUCH? Probably not. Baw.
7:40 – DAMMIT, JANET. “Denton: The Home of Happiness” and breaking into song. Dropping the ring before giving it to her, nothing could go wrong, right? Right.
10:10 – Guy wants to take us on a strange journey. DO NOT GET INTO CARS WITH STRANGERS, KIDS. DO NOT DO IT. Especially not ones who dress so fancy and talk with such eloquence. Poorly dressed schmucks are marginally better to get into the car with, but not much.
12:30 – Who passes castles in the middle of nowhere?
14:30 – Rachel goes “Oh my!” and then TYPE TYPE TYPES. It happens when Susan Sarandon sings. Not sure if she expected her to be able to sing, or maybe the sight of a rain-drenched Susan Sarandon drove her into a tizzy.
17:30 – HELLOooooo *nasal voice*
18:20 – Maid comes out of nowhere. It is lol.
20:00 – This party looks way more fun than the Clue one. People eating things off of other people’s hands, palm trees, afros, sequins, AWESOME sunglasses, and, omg, a pirate hat.
24:00 – TIM CURRY.
24:30 – Rachel cannot contain her mirth at his singing and getup. Tim Curry needs to learn how to apply foundation. He put that powder on pretty thick. He could take some tips from Eddie Izzard.
27:20 – Antici-
27:27 – -pation.
28:50 – Up to the lab, I wonder what’s up there? Man. I want a creepy elevator in my crazily opulent house.
30:20 – Furter kisses Janet’s hand and she giggles. Up until then, she’s fainted at least three times. All it takes is a lab coat above his sexy underwear and he’s no longer a threatening spooky scary transvestite.
33:07 – Man, who the hell gave these people noisemakers? Those things are awful.
34:27 – TURN THAT WHEEL, MAN.
36:00 – He comes out of the water and isn’t all prune-y. I call shenanigans.
43:30 – This music is killing me.
44:30 – Worst LOVE/HATE knuckle tattoos EVER. Invest a little, man. Try spending a little less money on that motorcycle and hair grease.
45:40 – Nevermind, you’re dead. Sorry for making fun of your tats, dude.
48:03 – Prissy British fancypants man looks disgusted at what had just transpired.
50:40 – OH SNAP INFIDELITY. Cross-dressing, infidelity. Best infidelity.
53:20: … Ditto.
56:40 – Singing about being virginal in front of a naked statue – priceless. Having the song change into one about sex – it all makes perfect sense.
59:40 – “You know this Earthling” slips out. Omgwtf. OMGWTF.
1:01:10 – Lo and behold the magical wheelchair that goes up stairs and through walls. Magic! Great Scot!
1:03:15 – I sense some research into the gong used in both Rocky Horror Picture Show and Clue. Is it the same one? Are they different? I am now certain these are the kinds of questions we need to be asking.
1:05:30 – IT IS TIME FOR PARTY HATS EFF YEAH!
1:14:00 – My blender crapped out. I am distraught. This has nothing to do with the movie, but it makes me ridiculously sad.
1:22:41 – FIXED IT, all is well.
1:23:00 – So many pairs of stockings and garter belts. When the wheelchair-bound guy claps his heeled-ended legs together, I just have to lol.
1:26:45 – Frank-n-furter realizes he’s going home. Joy and rapture. Yes, rapture. Goes along with all of the religious symbolism in this lolfest movie.
1:29:20 – HELLOOOOOooooo
1:30:27 – Those laser beams can be deadly.
1:31:15 – That is a size of Tim Curry I could have done without seeing.
1:34:12 – Three bodies emerge from the castle in stockings and heels. It is quite a lovely sight indeed.
1:35:00 – Creepy old smartypants man and his book again.
And.
FIN.
It was two weeks ago that we came up with the absolutely spectacular of live blogging Rocky Horror Picture Show and Clue. Rocky Horror was brought up first, and then I was berated for not having seen Clue, so here you go. Our Simon’s Cats are ready for it. Even though they’re on our respective desks at work, they’re still here in spirit. So yeah, let the Tim Curry-a-thon begin!
0:30 – OMG CLOUDS, clouds and epic music!
2:12 – Tim Curry’s face not caked in makeup. What is this I don’t even?! He looks so young and dapper.
3:50 – I want a French maid’s outfit. Because, why not?
6:27 – I hate it when my car breaks down on a spooky road and I’m wearing a ridiculous outfit and some stranger comes along and offers me a ride. Dammit, Scarlet, that’s not okay.
9:45 – Honestly, seems like the most boring dinner party ever. UNTIL THERE IS A GONG, THEN IT IS AWESOME.
11:38 – So, everyone has arrived knowing they’re using pseudonyms and they don’t know anybody else who is attending and they have no idea who the host is. Lolwat. Sounds like they were expecting a sex party or something.
15:00 – Oh snap, they’re all government employees.
17:15 – “Well, there’s no one here.” Obvious statement of the year, dude.
18:30 – SURPRISE, IT’S A SCARY DOG! THERE IS NO ESCAPE.
19:00 – Oh my, blackmail. Sleazy governmentalites. (Yeah, I just made up a word. So what?)
24:00 – Martin Mull is an amazing buffoon. “Put em up, put em up!”
24:50 – “Why are the police taking so long?” “… They’re Elkhart PD.”
26:50 – “In your hands, you have” the greatest party favors ever. Poor Wadsworth.
28:10 – LOL JK Wadsworth lives.
30:10 – MON DIEU, she also drank the conac.
32:00 – There’s nothing worse than being un-American, and what’s more American than profiting off of other’s misfortunes? The horror of being friends with socialists is just too profound to bear. True, we do all make mistakes.
34:20 -Scarlet’s cigarette will never end. She just keeps puffing and puffing on it, and it’s still just hanging out there in between her ruby red lips while she makes sassy statements.
36:25 – In taking the cook’s body to the study, they learn that Mr. Body’s body has magically disappeared. Cook’s body goes THUNK.
38:00 – 40:00 – Went to get cookies. Nom nom nom. They are sugary and fluffy and have frosting and sprinkles.
41:00 – Creepiest welcome party ever. If I was greeted at the door by that many spooky smiling people, I’d turn around and leave. Or moonwalk away. Or something.
43:20 – Maddening negatives are maddening. Mrs. White flipped her shit and it set off a chain reaction of win. A whole lotta nonsense up in this piece.
46:15 – Everyone hates who they’re with. It’s nothing like Scooby Doo where everyone gets paired up with their bff. There are also considerably fewer ascots. Way more glasses though. And too many dogs. Scary dogs.
53:00 – Seriously, this guy that got locked in the lounge is just, omgwtf. He has access to the phone and doesn’t call the cops. In fact, he sits there talking to whomever he was on the phone with about how odd it is that he’s in the house with his old boss from *omgwtf gets struck with a wrench*
54:00-56:00 – ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE.
59:20 – Man, I want to get calls from J. Edgar Hoover.
1:05:30 – Random singing telegram cut short. I suppose everybody thinks they’re annoying as sin, but that was a bit much.
1:08:30 – Oh boy are we going to figure out what’s going on here?
1:14:30 – Yeah, but Tim Curry’s taking forever to explain it all.
1:18:00 – Typical dinner party, multiple murders and a Jehovah’s witness. No big.
1:23:30 – Hoo boy, the coppers showed up.
FRANKLY, SCARLET, HE DOESN’T GIVE A DAMN.
1:25:05 – Nom nom monkey brains
1:27:00 – Apparently you have to work for Mr. Hoover to get a call from him. DRAT.
1:27:30 – THE COPS SHOW UP AGAIN!
1:30:00 – Where the hell are they getting the gloves from?!
1:30:45 – Lol a joke about exposing one’s self. Classy.
1:33:00 – “I’m going to go home and sleep with my wife.” YES. FOUR FOR YOU, DUDE.
In honor of yesterday being National Punctuation Day, I declare today should be National Anti Punctuation Day and in honor of this day that I have just made up I bring this post to you with no punctuation whatsoever Yes it is driving me nuts and the fact that I am writing it on my iPhone means it might try to add some in anyway but we need to stand strong together to make this day something big I say this but we all know that jerks on the Internet dont like using punctuation anyway so perhaps every day should be marked as such except of course for National Punctuation Day Does using capital letters go against what I am trying to make today stand for Well it might but I dont want to make this even harder to read than it should be Im fighting not to hit the enter key on this impossibly small touch screen keyboard And why do I fight Because I believe in today I believe we can make this a great national holiday full of rejoicing and people in the street chanting about their rights to look like idiots and not be held down by the overreaching hand of punctuation They are their words and they will write them incoherently if they want to damn it They can make up rhymes about the yoke of the period and the fact that a question mark looks like a whip but they have to do it with no inflection in their voices keeping them monotone because they have the right to not have punctuation in their speech too Lets make it happen people
Jeez, not using punctuation is stupid.
In my life I’ve come across a great many things that I’m not too fond of. Heck, I really cannot stand a whole lot of things. And a lot of people agree with me on these points, but there are some things that people seem to absolutely love that I just can’t comprehend. Here they are, in no order.
The great outdoors: Maybe it’s because I’m a self-proclaimed cripple and need a cane sometimes, but I do not see what’s so great about trees and trails and giant rocks. Do I need to remind you people that there are bugs and spiders outside? So many legs for such little things. Too many legs, as far as I’m concerned. Sure, I’ll go outside and frolic in the sun when it’s warm out, and I can admire it through a thick window pane, but I like my television. And I like my couch of doom. I’ll watch nature from there. That way, I can turn it off when I’m done and not have to trudge home through God knows what and tracking it all over the place.
LOST (yes the television show): I didn’t like it from the beginning, and then I just put up with it because I was curious. I think that’s how they got a lot of people watching. By the last season, I was getting angrier and angrier at the end of each episode. The whole purgatory debate and the dream debate and the OMG WHERE IS WALT issue just got annoying. I was never happier to see a show go off the air. The fact that I had to watch it while I waited for Glee made it so much worse. Sure, I could’ve watched something else, but it was on when nothing else was. And the effects were crap.
Moleskine notebooks: They’re small. They’re expensive. And that’s about it.
The trolololololo guy: For those of you unaware (and if you’ve spent more than 15 minutes on the Interbutts, I’m pretty sure you’re aware), he’s here. He’s creepy and has a scary face and he’s just too. Damn. HAPPY. And yet time and time again, I find myself singing it while I do the dishes or humming it in the shower. I think water brings it out. Who knows?
The Beatles: Maybe it’s because my parents didn’t grow up on them or something. I don’t remember “Hey Jude” playing in our house when I was little. It was Madonna and a whole bunch of groups from the 80′s that were the soundtrack to my childhood. But when people talk about how amazing The Beatles are, or when my grandma tells me how gorgeous they were, I think to myself, “Really? A bunch of foppy-haired Brits, really?” And that’s not to say I don’t like foppy-haired Brits. Oasis is all right.
True Blood: It’s set in a fictional Louisiana town. I mean, come on, the real Louisiana is bad enough. Yes, it was created and produced by the brain behind Six Feet Under, but that doesn’t make it good. This vampire craze has to stop once and for all. Vampires are not as cool as you kids think. And they all need tans, unless they’re those jackasses that sparkle from Twilight, in which case they need to be locked away in a bomb shelter and never heard from again.
And that brings me to…
Twilight (obviously): HONESTLY, PEOPLE. Twilight moms in particular, I’m looking at you. You thought you could manage to sneak under the radar, but nice try. You women fawning over what is supposed to be passing for a high schooler, all I have to say to you is this: Ew. As for the rest of you acting like the books are these amazing examples of literature, I hate to break it to you but they’re not. In the future, historians will look at this crazy Twilight obsession and be sorely depressed and they will pass judgment on us. If this document makes it, let it be put on the record that I oppose Twilight with everything I have. A pox on you, Stephenie Meyer.
Not being head-over-heels in love with Cesc Fabregas: Honestly, people. I do have some friends that sort of feel the same way about him as I do, but there are nowhere near enough people that adore him. And the fact that many of his fans are ridiculous teenagers just makes it that much worse.
I mean, seriously, folks. He is awesome.
The US men’s national soccer team: LOL JK nobody likes them because they suck. Screw you, Landon Donovan. You’re awful and little and terrible.
More to come?
Probably.
I used to be completely against suicide. It was wrong and those that went through with it were cowards who couldn’t deal with their problems.
I mean, come on, it is a sin — right?
I’m not saying that I’m all for it now. I guess being exposed to it will most definitely change your opinions on the matter. Maybe I understand it a little bit more. Maybe I was too judgmental.
Maybe.
I don’t really know.
It’s funny, and not funny in a “ha-ha” sort of way.
But more in a “Jesus-Christ-I-can’t-believe-that-happened” sort of way. My grandmother called me at work and told me, and I froze, and everything sort of turned into a haze. It was, in a word, awful.
And absurd.
And terrible.
But in my mind, mostly absurd.
I could be mad at him. Mad at how he did it, mad at the fact that he was just there, where children could see. I could be mad at the fact that the signs weren’t seen – that it all went by unnoticed, or that it happened so seemingly quickly.
I could, but I’m not.
I could be mad at myself for not calling him often and spending time with him.
But I’m just more sad about that.
We got some answers. Not enough answers, but some. I didn’t think it would help too much, but it did. It went from being terrible and just dealing with it to actually being okay. And so I guess that makes them enough answers, because it’s easy to move on knowing that there was a reason, and it wasn’t something planned or thought-out for long.
And it still hurts and I still feel guilty for having fun, for being happy, for not grieving long enough.
But then I have to stop and think about it for a second. Yes, it’s terrible. Yes, it was something that nobody wanted. And yes, this is how I deal with things.
I laugh. I smile. I push on. I tell people how I feel. I learn to realize what is really important in the grand scheme of things.
I live.
There’s something extremely suburban about living on a cul-de-sac – even when that cul-de-sac is in the middle of the Arabian desert. Not too far from the King Khaled International Airport and right beside the Imam University is my cul-de-sac. There are bikes dumped in the middle of it sometimes, but it is usually kept pretty neat and tidy. The garbage is taken out regularly, so the cans tend not to overflow. Sometimes, there’s a party at one of the houses and it gets a little loud, but it’s generally pretty quiet. The neighbors have nice cars, big cars, little cars, dusty cars.
And there is a palm tree right in the middle of the cul-de-sac. Sure, the other ones on the compound have palm trees, too – but ours is better. Our palm tree is mighty.
It makes me a little sad that when I go back home to visit, I won’t be going to Villa 138 with the creepy front yard full of rocks and other pokey things, the TV/computer room that always smelled a little off and the view of that epic palm tree. My family didn’t even live there for that long, but ever since I moved away, that was the home I’d go back to.
I would sleep in that oddly comfortable bed, fight with the timer on the split unit air conditioner in “my” bedroom and live out of two suitcases for months at a time. I would lose shirts, socks, underwear and bikini tops. I would spend the day at the pool listening to Michael Buble and being burned to a crisp – while also being creeped out by the workers walking past and gawking. And I would order chicken curry from the restaurant and buy a ridiculous amount of junk food and hair dye from the teeny tiny grocery store situated across from the teeny tiny jewelry store.
Now my family’s moving to a house off of the compound, but not that far away from it. It’s a bigger house. A much nicer house. A house where they can add their own personal touches.
A house where my brother and sister can grow up.
It still makes me a little sad, though, that the villa on the corner, right at the beginning of the cul-de-sac, will no longer be home.
It was quite a while ago that the leaves were this color and it will be quite some time before they decide to change again.
I’m glad I caught it when I did.
It was a case of Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hide-Behind-False-Reasoning-Be-Rude-and-Act-like-a-Good-Guy-After-It-Was-All-Said-and-Done.
Quite the mouthful, really.
