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You like me! Of course, you probably don't know me very well.

Archive for January, 2013

how else are you supposed to judge a book?

Friday, January 11th, 2013

I assume that if you are not allowed to judge a book by its cover, you’re supposed to use the title. Right? I mean, it’s just ridiculous to expect people to READ a whole book before passing judgement. That doesn’t make any sense at all.

Yeah, let’s try the title thing. What would I suspect these books were about if I couldn’t see the covers?

Salem’s Lot: a serious look at the accused witches in Salem, MA, and their lot in life. Or something about someone turning into a pillar of salt, maybe. I’m going to say 2.5/5 stars. (My rating for the actual book, 3/5. Stephen King didn’t used to be as good as he is now!)

Ishmael: Moby Dick II, obviously. Suspected rating: 4/5. Actual rating: -10/5. THIS IS THE WORST BOOK EVER. A talking gorilla lectures you about being a bad person for 263 pages. It sucks. The cover doesn’t illustrate that any more than the name does, though, so I’m not really sure what the takeaway here is.

Half Life: Science? Specifically nuclear chemistry, maybe? Assumed rating: 0/5. Actual topic, which is TOTALLY CLEAR from the cover, is conjoined twins. Actual rating: 3.5/5. (It was pretty depressing.)

There you go. Through the magic of a very small and hand selected sample, I have proved that stupid saying is wrong at least 2/3 of the time.  Not too shabby. Judge by all the covers you want, people, I give you leave.


a new rule

Thursday, January 10th, 2013

Hey, remember when I played roller derby for like one hot minute before I dislocated my tailbone?

In roller derby, everyone gets a cool name. That’s a large part of why I’m sad I didn’t stick it out, actually – I had an awesome name all ready to go. They take their names very seriously, though. You have to register, and once a derby name is yours, no one else can use it. Like, ever. The list of taken names is hugely impressive.

I would like to extend that ‘registering’ idea to ringtones. It wouldn’t be international – it would be county wide, maybe. I know it sounds ridiculous, but think about how much easier your life would be if THE PERSON IN THE CUBE NEXT TO YOU DIDN’T HAVE YOUR EXACT RINGTONE.

Or maybe that’s just me.

Silly things said

Wednesday, January 9th, 2013

Earlier tonight, I texted a friend of mine that I was watching all the Mission Impossible movies.

Well, I sent many texts tonight. There was one  that was solely awww based, to Star:

This year’s Puppy Bowl is going to have hedgehog cheerleaders. I want to go to there.

Yeah, I’m still ‘I want to go to there’ing. What. If Tiny Fey said it, it’s good enough for me for ever and ever and ever.

There was also the one to my mom that was based on my recent Buffy the Vampire Slayer re-viewings. (My Cloey died, it’s a whole thing, and it’s led me to comfort television because I miss her more than I thought it was possible to miss anything and I’m basically an empty shell of a person (and I say that like it’s a joke but I’m only half kidding). Anyway.):

Did you know Emma Caulfield (Anya) has a sister named Sam?

Ok, that one is actually only relevant if you a) care about some fictional ex-demon playing actress from a television show that’s been over for like five years and b) know that my name is in fact Emma (shocker) and that my brother’s name is Sam.

So I’ve been sending a lot of texts. That’s what I was trying to illustrate, poorly.

Crockett is out of town, have I mentioned that? I get a little wacky when he’s gone. There’s nothing like the love of a taciturn man* to really ground a girl.

So. The Mission Impossible text was this:

Of COURSE I’m not watching all the mission impossible movies in order. I hate TC and his Scientology ass, but Ghost Prots is streaming right now.

Ghost Prots, of course, refers to Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol, in the vernacular of a woman who thinks she knows cool vernacular. I.e. me.

I don’t like Tom Cruise. I’m mad at him for thinking that he can play Jack Reacher, and for saying that pills are bad (fist bump for Zoloft, y’all). I’m also mad at him for being so serious about his craft that he rides in exploding cars and stuff. He’s putting perfectly good stuntmen out of work when he does stuff like that, you know?

And yet, free streaming on Netflix and all my anti Cruise convictions fly out the window.

*Please tell me there are other women out there who are still searching for their own personal Oz?


tea for two

Tuesday, January 8th, 2013

One of my (very sweet I know it’s very sweet) coworkers keeps bringing me stuff.

Well, not ME – me and everyone else on our team. It’s very sweet, I mentioned that, right?


However, I don’t like it, and I’m trying to put my finger on it. One factor is that she focuses on a specific kind of food that I’m not a fan of, but sometimes I take it home for Crockett to eat, so that’s not a big deal. I think that in a bigger sense, it’s just because I feel like she’s doing me favors and I then owe her.

I read somewhere recently (and am far too lazy to look it up so you’re just going to have to take my word for it) that we like the people that we have done favors for more than the people that do us favors.

I guess that means she really likes me?

Well, unless she reads this blog.

Edit: ht to my fabulous new work friend who is without nickname for finding this article that backs me up.