Once upon a time, I was in a video store with my then boyfriend trying to pick out a movie to watch. I picked up John Carpenter's Vampires, and proceeded to tell the boy about the coolest scene in the movie, where a guy uses his hot-from-being-fired gun to cauterize a wound he received. Said boyfriend looks at me, shakes his head, and says, "You're not like other girls, Betty."
Name::Braindead Betty From::Indy, Indiana, United States
Disney's got me hooked. "Meet the Robinsons" comes out this weekend, and it looks pretty so-so. Not bad, so far as kid's movies go, but not my first choice for a night out, either. Except for the damn T-Rex. Whenever I see the commercial where he says, "I have a big head, and little arms!" I erupt into laughter. Not just a little giggle; great big belly laughs. The kind that almost make you cry. I cannot help it. This dinosaur just has me enraptured. I'm beginning to wonder if it is subliminal messaging causing the hilarity.
Major news on the homefront: I HAVE LANDSCAPING! I'm so excited! Jay and Bean planted 5 mini-spruces yesterday while I was at work to surprise me. Bean was so excited to have helped. She's claimed one tree as her very own and calls it her baby tree. Say it with me now....AAAWW.
One thing I must say about Jay being out of work; while it's made our budget much tighter than is comfortable, he and Bean have gotten quite close. It's awful cute watching her tag right along behind him, Daddy's little shadow. If you want to know the honest truth, I'm kind of jealous. I know it's gender-typing, but I feel like, being the mom, I should be there kissing her booboos and teaching her the joys of vegging out and playing Halo all day. Okay, so maybe he is teaching her different things than I would.
I don't really grudge him the time with her, though. She's happy enough to see me when I get home, and he's happy enough for a break by that time. (Let's face it, no matter how cute the 2 year old, they're still pretty demanding.) And I know it's important for little girls to have a good relationship with their dad. Besides, once she starts dating, I know I'll be the favorite again.
There's a cemetary not far from my house with a big billboard that faces out into the street. The billboard has the name of the cemetary and says, "Serving the living." And everytime I see this sign I just want to buy some spray paint and add "to the dead." I don't think it's ever going to happen though, since it's on a very busy road and I don't see how you could do it without getting caught. Does that make me a horrible person?
One of my coworkers and I were having a conversation about patchouli yesterday. Personally, I can't stand the stuff. It always makes me think of Skunkor, the pariah of the toybox.
Skunkor was one of the characters from He-Man and Masters of the Universe. As you could probably guess from his name, Skunkor's abilities were of the olfactory variety. Anyway, the action figure for Skunkor was marketed to include his stink ability. And it reeked of patchouli! The really horrible thing about it was that if you put him in your toybox, it made all your other toys smell, too. I'm sure my parents were really happy about having bought him.
We're enjoying a stretch of nice weather right now. It's so much fun taking Bean outside to play. She got her first taste of playing with sidewalk chalk yesterday. It brought back so many memories for me. I specifically remember one time my grandpa caught me and the little neighbor girl using sidewalk chalk to make a homemade ouija board. (Yeah, I was a weird little kid.) He got so mad at us for that one.
I made Bean a hopscotch board and taught her how to hop on it, which she loved. I realized, though, that I don't know the actual rules for hopscotch. When we were kids, we never bothered with playing it the way you're supposed to, we just jumped back & forth until we got bored with it. Did anybody mess with the real rules? If so, could you explain them? I'd hate to have my daughter be the only girl who doesn't know the rules when she gets to elementary school.
I haven't gone to the Warped Tour for a couple years, because it makes me feel so damn old. All those 16 year old kids with so much damn energy, it kills me. Not to mention some of the stupidity I hear coming out of their mouths. I remember when the Misfits played, overhearing one kid mention to another that "Gosh, they're playing a lot of Metallica covers." Not to mention the little girl I used to work with who didn't understand why Billy Idol was on the bill.
Not that I have a lot of room to talk, as I don't know very much about what their generation is into. For instance, on this year's tour, who the hell is Boys Like Girls? Or Cute Is What We Aim For? Can I confess that I'm not expecting to like those bands very much? However, I think I'm going to have to go this year, if only for Bad Religion and Flogging Molly. It's just too bad the Vandals are not going to be at the Indy show. I guess that's just asking for too much though.
We had a little bit of a family scare the other day. Alzheimer's disease runs in my family, and my Grandma was acting pretty loopy the other day, so everybody was getting scared that the disease may have begun claiming her. Come to find out, Grandma's just a druggie. Okay, that's not exactly fair to my Grandma. She fell on the ice twice this winter and managed to break both of her wrists. One of them was broken pretty badly, and she had to have surgery. After the surgery, she got a Vicodin prescription, and instead of taking it as needed no more than once every four hours, she was taking 1000 mg every four hours on the dot. Needless to say, my Grandma was in a pretty happy place. I wonder if she was trying to make up for the sobriety of her youth, and is happy letting us believe that it was an honest mix-up. I just wonder how my aunt who's been staying with her to help completely missed this. For four days. Oh well, it at least makes me feel less like the black sheep in the family.
Sorry I've been kind of MIA this week. Between having the first cold of spring, losing an hour, and being absolutely swamped at work, I've been kind of bleh.
Some of the signs of spring have been cropping up. Besides the cold, the Canadian geese have been showing up. I was attacked by a goose when I was 7, and it left me with a full blown phobia of the hateful things. Jay, of course, thinks this is hilarious, but I find it to be quite a hindrance at times. For instance, I've been late to work twice this week because I refuse to get out of my car if there's a goose between where I'm parked and the door to work.
Jay's band has two shows booked next week and I'm super-excited about one of them. They're opening for an awesome band out of Japan, Peelander-Z. If you've never heard of them, you should check them out. This is also a really good opportunity for the guys, as there should be a pretty big crowd for this show.
I'm sure this is really surprising, but I'm not much of a domestic goddess. Yet I volunteered to make soda bread for a St. Patty's Day party tomorrow. I've never made it before, so wish me luck.
Speaking of St. Patrick's Day, I love my Irish heritage. That doesn't change the fact that St. Patrick was a murderer from Wales who liked to burn libraries. But here's one of my favorite Irish toasts that you're welcome to use tomorrow:
Here's to me and here's to you, And here's to ever after. I'll be true as long as you And not a moment after.
Jay and I are both amazingly laid-back people. This is why other first-time parents sometimes crack me up. Some of our friends recently had a baby, and made both sets of grandparents watch a video about the 4 "S's" of swaddling (whatever those are) before they could hang out with the baby. I'm personally of the opinion that if my parents got me to adulthood, they're not gonna' screw Bean up too badly. So when she spends the night with them, I hand her over with one hand, the diaper bag with the other, and then run like the denizens of Hell are behind me. My sister, on the other hand, leaves my parents with two pages of instructions and calls every half hour to check up.
Bean is ruining Janis Joplin for me. Whenever we're in the car, she just wants to listen to "Mercedes Benz" over and over again. At least it's not a Care Bear CD, I guess.
Yesterday Bean was fed a bunch of candy and wasn't given a nap. So when bedtime came around, she resembled nothing so much as a sugar-charged demonically-possesed tornado. Generally I don't do this, buy I let her lay in our bed with me until she fell asleep. Jay was sleeping on the couch (guess why). The girl was cracking me up. When I told her I'd put her back in her own bed if she didn't lie still and be quiet, she promised to be quiet, rolled over and proceeded to fake snore. This is a new thing for her and it was all I could do to keep from laughing out loud. Because, of course, if you laugh, they know they've won.
I took a skills assesment quiz because I've had enough of jobs and am ready to look for a career. As I went through my top 10 job matches, and found reasonable objections to each prospective career, I realized, wow, I'm not good at anything relevant. Or maybe I'm just lazy and good at making excuses. But seriously, some of these job suggestions were completely off-the-wall.
Actress? That'd be fantastic, but please let me know how I'm to keep my family fed while I'm waiting to be discovered here in Indiana. Dancer? Considering I have no classical dance training, I can only think of one kind of dancing where I would make money and, uh, that ain't happening. Courier service driver? What? Is that even a real answer?
You know it's pretty sad when the skills assesment quiz basically tells you that you're not good at anything. Looks like I'm destined to be a penniless-artist-wanderer-beachcomber type. Maybe I should just go get a degree in philosophy. Or communications.
I became a homeowner at the ripe old age of 21. I knew that I was taking a huge step when I did this, and I'm glad I did. Unfortunately, being that young, I had very little idea of what being a homeowner implies. Visions of home-decorating and stripper poles danced in my head. (Thank God I never went through with that.)
I think my parents must've hated me for about the first 6 months after I moved in. They were inundated with phone calls ranging from, "Can I borrow your lawnmower?" to "I think squirrels are living in my attic!" to "What should I do if I smell gas?" Unfortunately, my friends weren't much help either, being as inexperienced in home-ownership as I was. Not that they didn't try. I remember one of my guy friends very sincerely offering to hold the ladder for me when I needed to get in the crawl space one time.
Luckily, I survived on my own long enough to learn the ropes. And let me tell ya', I can plunge a toilet with the best of 'em now.
I got my first glimpse of Indy's newest superhero the other day. No, it's not someone with a cool power given by exposure to radiation, or a mutated gene. Neither is it a rich vigilante with awesome gadgets, or a visitor from an alien world affected by Earth's yellow sun. It's a stretch of highway that's under construction. It must be a superhero though, because it says "super" right there in its name, and it has a cool logo with wings. I introduce to you...Super 70.
My first encounter with Super 70 must have been simply an introduction to its mild-mannered alter ego, because nothing eventful happened. I can't wait to see what it's powers of delay, frustration and confusion hold in store.
Does anyone know where the quote "Meanwhile, at the Hall of Justice, Aquaman was making a peanut butter sandwich because he can't do shit," originated? Jay and I saw a new Aquaman video game in the store the other day, and were speculating how many different ways to make a peanut butter sandwich it must feature.
Batman is branching out. Wayne Enterprises is now selling Holy drinking water. The bottles feature the warning "If you are a sinner or evil in nature, this product may cause burning, intense heat, sweating, skin irritations, rashes, itchiness, vomiting, bloodshot and watery eyes, pale skin color and oral irritations." I've got to buy a case of this stuff to take to parties. Maybe some fake blood and smoke bombs too. Wow, I've got a great practical joke all set up. Wait, maybe that's Batman's plan. Perhaps this is too good of a practical joke for the Joker to miss out on, either. Clever, Batman, very clever.
SCANDAL!! The small town of Speedway, Indiana is so starved for news that they're reporting on one of their meter maids, who apparently posed nude in a calendar some 14 years ago when he was a mere 19 years old.
An anonymous tipster emailed the photos to city officials. "I'm only trying to do my part to help the city," she told us on condition of anonymity. "If we let this slide, who knows whats next. Cops with earrings, or worse, tattoos?" She did not, however, say why she was looking at nudie pics in the first place.
Mr. M. Barassed, the meter maid in question, did not reply to calls made at his residence, but has issued a statement. It reads, "This incident happened back when I was a young stud, full of dreams. Look at me now; I'm a 33 year old meter maid for cripe's sake! What dignity can you take away from me?"
*Okay, so the name & quotes are made up, but the story's not. You can check it out here.*
I'd hate to be a member of Delta Zeta sorority right now. If you haven't heard the story, several of the sisters of the sorority's chapter at DePauw college were kicked out for not fitting in with the image of the sorority. Essentially, they were kicked out for not being pretty enough or for being non-Caucasian.
I'm guessing that they had no idea that the story would get the national attention that it did. After all, DePauw is a small college right here in Indiana, where very little national news takes place. Unfortunately for them, a writer for the New York Times happened to be visiting the campus around the time it happened, and wrote a story about it. Needless to say, the story's gotten plenty of attention since then. The girls have even been featured on CNN.
What I think is especially sad about the story, though, is that I've only found one story, the original New York Times article, that's very specific about mentioning that it was the national headquarters of the sorority that made the decision, not that particular chapter. In fact, of the 12 girls that didn't get kicked out, 6 of them were so outraged that they quit the sorority as well. That's a good example of the type of sisterhood I think sororities should try to cultivate. If I were another sorority with a chapter on that campus, I'd be making serious efforts to try and recruit all 29 of the ex-Delta Zeta ladies. Just imagine what a PR victory that could be.
*On a side note, since I just mentioned his hit song the other day, I thought I'd shout out to Eddy Grant, who's birthday is today.*
Why are Frankenstein cars always blue with a red door or hood?
Why would you buy a car that's the same make and color of the "undercover" police cars? Wouldn't it get annoying having everyone in front of you slow down when they saw you coming?
I get unreasonably nervous when I'm on a multiple lane road that curves. I'm always terrified that somebody is not going to be paying attention and go straight instead of following the curve.
My neighbors (not the ones with the shooting incident) bought a powder blue hearse? Cool!
