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emmanation

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Archive for the ‘I think I'm funny’ Category

twenty minutes

Tuesday, November 22nd, 2016

I’m still thinking about David Blaine. I have a theory.

So, his wacky physical stuff can be explained by him being disciplined and willing to push his body farther than any normal person ever would. Like, he trained himself to hold his breath for seventeen minutes or some equally ridiculous shit. On the Netflix special, Crockett and I saw him teach himself to drink gallons of water, then kerosene, then spit them in reverse order onto an open flame.

Basically, physically he makes very poor choices but some of them look neat.

The other thing he does all the time, though, I am stymied! Or was, until I came up with my foolproof theory. The thing I’m talking about is the audience participation thing. He’ll have someone sign a card, then that same card will turn up in that person’s inner pocket. He’ll have someone think a name, and then that name will appear on the inside of the window of the store they’re standing in front of.

There’s only one solution.

He can see, like, twenty minutes or so into the future.

Think about it. It’s not really far enough to do much useful, and he doesn’t quite seem like the selfless type anyway. I mean, COULD he sit in the ICU and tell doctors when someone is pre-crash? Sure, but how would that bring in the ladies? Could he travel with SWAT teams and tell them when a situation is going to go south based on their current course of action? Totally, but SWAT members make, what, like high five figures? That ain’t Vegas money.

Short of googling how those tricks are done (which I have no interest in doing because it’s likely to be either technically complicated or prosaic and I’m not into that), this is the only explanation.

Right?

*Pats self on back*

fish burps

Saturday, November 12th, 2016

I feel like someone told me once that dogs can’t burp. Is that right? Did they actually say cows and I heard dogs because if you squint cows are basically big dogs that we’re ok with eating for some reason? My dogs burp, anyway, so if they’re not supposed to be able to then maybe somebody wants to study them – hit me up in the comments and we’ll work out a price in dog cookies and beers.

I also burp kind of a lot. I don’t know if it’s more than a normal person or if normal people are just better about not doing it out loud, and it’s a hard thing to bring up in conversation. “Excuse me, ma’am, I see you’re drinking a beer. Are you silently burping when you look down towards your lap, or are you immune to delicious bubbles in your digestive system?”

I don’t cover my mouth anymore when I burp around Crockett. I used to, because it seemed sort of rude, but it’s a pain and also I think perhaps my desire to do so was informed by the differing societal expectations of men and women and my patience for that shit is rapidly converging with DOES NOT EXIST.

The thing is, Crockett doesn’t burp around me, and there are three possible reasons:

  • he’s not a natural (the ‘like I am’ was meant to be implied but it didn’t come across so I’m pointing it out you’re welcome)
  • he suppresses/subtles his burps around me to be polite in a way that has nothing to do with me being a lady, and would do it around anyone
  • etc except in a way that *does* have to do with me being a lady, and he does not and would not do such around his friends
  • or fourth he suppresses because he’s worried I won’t love him anymore I guess? but based on my burp frequency that would make him a loon so we’re discounting this one out of hand

In the name of science, I’m going to feed him a couple of Coors Light’s (high carbonation according to these experts) and sit on his lap while we watch a movie or something. Don’t worry, I’ll pay him with more beers (and dog cookies, if he wants them).

you have reached your final destination

Friday, August 12th, 2016

Crockett got on a airplane without me yesterday. He’s now in the UP for family love and various two-wheeled-foot-powered shenanigans.

(Did I mention he did very well in a 68 mile mountain bike race at NINE THOUSAND FEET recently? I didn’t?? What kind of proud pre-wife am I, honestly?)

Maybe ten minutes into his flight, he started smelling smoke.

Then chicken.

Then the pilot turned the plane around and landed back in Denver because some birds had met an unfortunate end and the plane needed to be poked and prodded before it could be allowed to continue on to it’s final destination. It was fine, he’s where he needed to be, and Southwest has graciously credited him back part of his purchase price without him even asking. All around, it could have gone considerably worse.

Which leads me, in a round about way, to the very fine Final Destination films. I cannot be the only one who thinks of them every time I’m in a airport bathroom and I notice music being piped in, can I? I mean, it’s never John Denver (that I’ve noticed), but still – every damn time. Don’t even get me started on when I see a truck with logs in the back on the highway.

Final Destination: Plane crash. Not birds. Electrical failure? I’ve seen it 10000 times and the fact that I don’t know what the reason for the crash is means that it’s v v unimportant. The best death sequence, hands down, is the teacher when everything in her house is trying to kill her like they’re the cartoons from Beauty and the Beast except instead of cleanliness they’re focused on fate and nothing but sweet, deadly fate.

Final Destination 2: Enormous car crash on the highway, started by logs falling off the back of a big ol’ trucks. Wait, not logs. Trees. Redwoods, basically. The survivor from the first film teaches everyone there is no ‘safe’, there is only paranoid and doomed.

Final Destination 3: I HAVE NEVER SEEN THIS ONE. Trust me, I’m rectifying that wrong as I type these words. Roller coaster malfunction, in case you’ve sadly missed it as well.

The Final Destination: Basically a NASCAR crash that sends deadly detritus into the stands. I’ve seen it but remember nothing. Based on the name, I think they expected this would be last. Twas not to be.

Final Destination 5: Bridge collapse! Everyone loves a bridge collapse. I think I’m mixing this up in my head with The Mothman Prophecies.

It’s been five years since that last one, so I’m thinking Final Furious 7 … no, wait. Final Destination 7 should be any day now. In case they think they’ve played out ‘crashes’ (spoiler, they mostly have), I’ve got some ideas for them:

  • Surfing accident – let’s get Kate Bosworth acting AND surfing again (<3 you 4ever Blue Crush)
  • Food poisoning – sure, the premonition would have to be hours long at a minimum, but it’d be a fun new technique! Maybe it’s on a cruise ship, and Kate Bosworth can be the body boarding instructor!
  • Zoo accident – lions? Gorillas? Seaworld disaster? So many choices, so many opportunities for Kate Bosworth to be an animal trainer.

I guess what I’m saying is a) Crockett is super duper, b) I love these movies, and c) I have surprisingly strong feelings about Kate Bosworth’s current underutilization in fine American cinema.

 

fuck you right in the nose hole, TV

Thursday, February 25th, 2016

I mean my ACTUAL TV, to be clear. The actual physical manifestation of short form recorded visual programming that is in my actual house.

Television in general is still a-ok by me.

My actual TV’s offense occurred last night, but first allow me to set the scene.

First, Crockett was out of town. (Calm down, potentially murderous maniacs, by the time you read this he’ll be back and also I have an old school heavy-as-hell putter next to my bed (that actually may be haunted? A coworker let me borrow it for a corporate golf event, and when I tried to give it back he told me to keep it. When I protested, he allowed that he didn’t particularly want it anymore because it had belonged to someone who was no longer with us, and there was a definite air of bad juju. Perfect intruder smashing energy.) Also, where did you get my address? Maybe stop stalking intermittent bloggers and look into some therapy or a good podcast*?)

Second, I had alternately been reading the Sandman Slim series and watching season 3 of the X-Files all night. (Sandman Slim isn’t scary necessarily, but it is very much about hell and magic and stuff.)

Third, I have been listening to some very good podcasts*.

If the above doesn’t adequately set the scene, let’s remember (can you guys remember? Did I tell you? Probably not) that when I moved into this house I was genuinely planning on installing a deadbolt on the house side of the basement door. That’s the level of paranoia we’re working with here.

So, I give Maida her eye drops and her night time meds, and Agnes takes the opportunity to curl up on Crockett’s pillow because she sort of thinks she’s my boyfriend, and Deaner crawls under the blanket to my feet … basically we go full dog for bedtime, and I turn out the light and we all go to sleep.

AND THEN.

It’s the middle of the night.

It’s dark outside.

It’s regular wintertime surburban quiet … which is to say, pretty quiet …

EXCEPT FOR THE STATIC COMING FULL VOLUME FROM THE TELEVISION SET DOWNSTAIRS.

The dogs did not care about the static, which is the only thing that gave me comfort in this trying time.

I tiptoed downstairs (without the golf club, but maniacs, I will not make that mistake again) and looked at the TV. Yep, full static, full volume.

I had not had the TV at full volume when I turned it off for bed, but more alarmingly: it was still off.

The red ‘off’ light was lit, and the screen was full bore Poltergeist staticking me.

There’s no real ending to this. I unplugged the TV and ran upstairs and IM’d everyone I knew in the morning to tell them about my evil fucking TV. And now the TV is acting totally normal and not at all haunted.

But I’m not convinced.

So fuck you right in the nose hole, TV. Or ghost. Or both.

*You thought I forgot about this: Tanis, My Favorite Murder, The Black Tapes, and Last Podcast on the Left. None are particularly comforting in a situation such as the one I found myself in.

STARWARSSPOILERSGOAWAYIFYOU…

Tuesday, December 29th, 2015

You know. I’m not kidding, here, people. Two steps back if you don’t want things ruined. (DAD THIS MEANS YOU. Call me, we’ll go see it, THEN you can read this post.)

Ok, first and most brilliantly of me:

When Adam Driver took his helmet off (what, halfway through the flick?) I started laughing and couldn’t stop. I’m not sure what it was about his Kleenex-you-took-out-of-the-box-for-a-sneeze-but-then-forgot-about-when-you-didn’t-sneeze-so-you-just-left-it-and-it-got-all-dusty face that did it, but it just brought it out in me. Fortunately I had Crockett on one side of me and one of the theater’s only empty seats on the other, so I didn’t wildly anger anyone who was able to make eye contact with me.

Literally could not stop laughing, you guys. I had to pull my hat down over my eyes so I couldn’t see him just to calm down. You know how when someone has been tickling you, and then they wave their fingers in the general direction of your foot or armpit or whatever, and you laugh because you just can’t help it, even though your stomach muscles hurt from the laughing and they’re not even touching you? It was like that, except the tickling was Adam Driver’s stupid fucking child-making-a-bust-and-only-has-white-playdoh-left face trying to pretend he was HAN SOLO’S KID.

I digress.

Oh, wait, one more thing on that note: Crockett has been saying things like “Hannah, what are you talking about?” in the Kylo Ren voice and it slays me every goddamn time. Girls and Star Wars are two franchises that are not actor compatible, is what I’m saying. (I just had to google Adam Driver to remember that it was Kylo Ren and not Rilo Ken (Jenny Lewis, shades of) and again I started laughing. His face is just the everlasting WORST.)

We went to the flick on Christmas morning, with Crockett’s fam – mom, dad, brother, sis-in-law, nephews, and niece, and I think that was 100% the right way to do it. Everyone from brother on even got Star Wars shirts for Christmas! There was appropriate kid excitement, good camaraderie, I don’t know. The whole thing was super. Except that some of the pre-preview commercials were, um, not particularly child appropriate, which was weird. Like, guys, it’s STAR WARS. There will be kids. Maybe Cutty from House and the slobby guy from Private Practice banging in a car is best for a different audience?

So.

I’m not going to do a recap or anything, because if you’ve gotten this far, you’ve seen it or you’re a glutton for punishment. Instead, I have three critical questions.

  1. WHEN did Leia know that Han died? No one told her when it happened, and yet we cut to a scene of her crying. The pilots (hey, Poe, call me. I’m engaged and you’re fictional and look a lot like my fiance, so that should work out nicely) didn’t have info on what was going on in the … octagon thing. I asked Crockett and he said she knew immediately because she has the force. I asked my mom and she said it’s because Leia loved Han. Crockett, mom: I love you guys but those are stupid answers. Leia was surprised to see Han when she saw him on the tinyglasseslady’s planet, she doesn’t psychically sense him. She’s a general now, she gives orders, she doesn’t listen to wavelengths or whatever. I think someone told her and I think it was Chewbacca – she slipped him an ear peanut thingy (wow it has been a long day … you know, those little things? The little earphone microphone things? Am I wrong in believing those even have a name?) and he told her. Feel free to correct me as long as your answer is better than mom’s or Crockett’s.
  2. WHO is Rey? (Yeah, yeah, me and everyone else. I’m going with Luke’s daughter, but then WHO is Rey’s mama?)
  3. WAS (who what when where was, that’s how it goes) Carrie Fisher being filmed with a Barbara Walters interview lens? You know, the one with a little bit of Vaseline on it?

I’m going to go see it again, and this time I’m going to take blacked out glasses to put on when Adam Driver is onscreen. That way I miss the Solo tragedy AND and won’t be removed from the story by his if-he-were-on-GOT-we’d-assume-he-was-inbred face.

EDITED TO ADD: I just saw Carrie Fisher tweeted about people being mean about her aging, and I want to be clear. She is the best. While she is obviously super hot, she also has a dog named GARY FISHER and he has his own Instagram. My comment re her filming was not a dig at her at ALL but a legitimate question regarding the fuzziness of the screen when she was on it, it felt like. She’s lovely and I love her and would invite her to dinner with Tiny Fey and Amy Poehler and Regina Spektor and a) I would be the ugliest woman in the room and b) I would die damn happy.