I think it's about time I just packed it in and stored this blog away somewhere. I don't ever even have the urge to write in it anymore and hardly care that it exists. So I'm in the midst of deciding what to do with this space. I think I might just turn it into a big online storage for myself (my videos, for instance), as well as housing for Lyrical Munchies and Epic of Rovere and... various other things. While I decide that, here is a small collection of my favorite animated gifs for your enjoyment (those of you who still come here... if you even come here anymore...):
Note: I made none of these. I have no idea where most of them came from.
Hi!!! My name's Sara, and this is my blog. You may notice that January 2008 doesn't exist in my archives -- that's because January 2008 never happened. Neither did the latter half of December 2007 and most of February (until today).
I came back from the dead, you see, to post this:
It's fake. But it's amusing. I've been meaning to look it up and watch it for a long time now, having heard references to it many a time... it was worth it.
Monday was Mike's and my 2 year anniversary! Just two years and two days ago, we met in New York and decided to give it a go long-distance, sparking a year and a half of driving every one or two weeks to see each other 260 miles away. (For a recap, see Mike's blog here [though he makes it seem, out of context, like some sleazy tryst... typical male] and here.) I have very fond memories of those long months afterwards -- I even have fond memories of the drive (I miss those 4.5 hour drives through forested Pennsylvania and the excitement that would hit me when I reached the 3/4 way point at Hazleton) -- but we're extremely happy to be living together now.
Holidays are stalking us. There Christmas is, right in front of us, lazily munching on some grass; we raise our rifle to take the shot, but then BAM! New Years and a whole host of inadequacy issues attack us from the sides. We never even knew they were there. I can't believe it's going to be 2008 soon. My youth! My youth!
In other juvenile news that I'm sure will solidify your impression of me as a shameful time waster, I've discovered that the best way to play Starcraft is with 80s music on in the background. The other day Kyrie Eleison (not the prayer, the Mr. Mister song) came on in the background as I wiped the Protoss off the map, and hoo boy it was amazing. (Dork.)
It's funny what an hour surfing the net looking for Christmas gifts can do to you. I had to stop myself when I felt a growing sense of panic and desperation threatening to overcome me. And that was just an hour.
Gift-getting is supposed to be simple in my family, since we decided a few years back that only the children should get presents. It was a little awkward for a while there, since for some reason I was classified as a child (with my nephews and nieces, all under 10 at the time). I was pretty glad when that all stopped.
Anyway, now my nieces and nephews are, with the exception of the two youngest, impossibly old: I have no idea what to get for them. What the hell does a 15-year-old want in 2007? That doesn't cost $300? So this year it'll be the same as the last. Target gift cards for everyone! That leaves me with the youngest, Lucy, and maybe I'll get some chocolate or candy items for the kids to go with their gift cards. There's also my parents, but that's taken care of. Oh, and I should get something for my grandparents, which might make for some difficulty. Mike is 3/4 taken care of. I just need to figure out where I can buy a catapult....
And there's "Secret Christmas." Here's where I hope that my outside-of-Dutchess-County family doesn't happen to find this blog. Because they're not supposed to know about Secret Christmas. On Christmas Eve, my local siblings give small gifts to each other -- mostly because it's too weird NOT giving gifts when my parents are showering us and Olivia and Lucy with presents. A few days later, when the long-distance sibs come for Christmas, we pretend Secret Christmas didn't happen... because we're not supposed to cheat on the no presents for sibs rule. Well, Secret Christmas is driving me a teensy bit crazy right now, because I want to get non-crap for everyone. And I don't think a Jon Bon Jovi action figure for my sister counts as non-crap.
I'll figure it out.
In other news, we were watching Star Trek VI last night, and I noticed something oddly familiar about a certain character.
Kurtwood Smith, President of the Federation
Kurtwood Smith, father in That 70s Show
Now that I look at his IMDB page, I see the guy's been in everything, so this isn't exactly a great or rare find. He's a character actor. But damn, that moustache.
Kurtwood Smith, President of the Federation
Kurtwood Smith, father in That 70s Show
Now that I look at his IMDB page, I see the guy's been in everything, so this isn't exactly a great or rare find. He's a character actor. But damn, that moustache.
From a 5-star Amazon user review of a wooden Hogwarts Express (platform 9 3/4) sign:
i was very impressed with the speed in which i received this purchase. it was in great condition and my son who is in college loved it. he hung it above his door so that everyone who leaves his dorm room will be heading for platform 9 and 3/4. I ordered several Harry Potter items for my son for his birthday. He took them all to college withhim and his friends have designated his dorm room "The coolest room" in the hall. it is "the" room to hang out in. thanks for helping me make my sons birthday a huge hit!
I bet...
Note, coming much too late, for anyone who hasn't clicked this link yet: The photos are disturbing. The man's extremities are covered in root-like growths. It is an unbelievable and, apparently for some people I know, nauseating sight.
Just look at this poor guy. Apparently he's featured in a show on the Discovery Channel tonight at 9. I'd like to watch it... but my stupid Thursday shows are going to get in the way.
I've always had a fascination with medical mysteries. Especially ones with happy endings.
Had a lovely Saturday night/Sunday early morning with Anna and Dave (who was in the city for a short visit). Dave and Mike and I got off to a fairly early start with the drinking, and after having a Frenchy dinner continued the theme by going to a bar called Dirty Pierre. We didn't stay long though, since we had to intercept Anna on her way from the subway to our place, so we ended up booking it down Austin St. It's cold -- I got a bit of lung burn from walking fast and gulping cold air. Mike made us his new specialty: a drink he calls "Red-Headed Stepchild." He created this drink a few days ago when we were partying by ourselves. It's quite similar to our Famous Dwaynes, except for Heightened Taste Sensation. Just combine vodka, triple sec, grenadine, orange curacao, a splash of orange juice, cranberry-grape juice, and Red Bull. Yeah, fruity, but don't knock it till you've tried it!
I pulled out the Super Nintendo, and we all played Mario Kart and (when Mario Kart kept blacking out in the middle of races) Super Mario Bros. 3. So, basically it was a flashback to college. This went on till roughly 3:30, and we were all pretty tanked. It was oodles of fun!
Last night Mike and I went to bed at 9:30. It was splendid. And yet I still wanted to sleep more this morning.
You know how David Copperfield is being charged with rape? And you know how it's come out that his assistants would, at his instigation, interview and photo audience members that he was interested in, then invite them to his islands in the Bahamas? And you know how some women have come out saying that he ogled them at shows and that his assistants would try to get them away from their husbands/boyfriends for the purposes of interviewing/photographing/luring-them-to-the-Bahamas? No? Oh.
Anyway, Mike and I tried to get tickets to David Copperfield when we were in Vegas. And all I can say is, thank God it was sold out. Because what would have happened if we had gone? What if David Copperfield had seen me? What if he had seen me?
And the prize for Best-Named Bygone (I Think) Chicago Theater Company goes to... the "Dinglefest" Theatre Company.
They have an ad in an old journal series I'm deleting from our library holdings. I thought it was amusing.
In other horrific news, I had a cringe-worthy encounter yesterday morning. I'm blind as a bat without glasses or my contacts in, so when I take my morning shower before work, my surroundings are nothing but fuzzy colored blobs because a) I can't put in my contacts when my eyes won't open at 6:48 AM (okay... 6:57 on most days, 7:06 on others), and b) it's silly to wear glasses in the shower. I started the water, as usual, got in once it was hot enough, and noted that the hair trap (or hair-trap-shaped blob) looked dark. "Ew," I thought, "I must have not cleaned it out when I washed my hair yesterday. I'll have to do that before Mike yells at me." I continued doing what I was doing. Two minutes later, my eyes caught movement. I looked down and saw a rather large dark blob emerge from the center of the hair trap and start moving rapidly towards my feet. I yelped and dove out.
No, my leftover hair had not become mobile and vengeful. It was a cockroach. About an inch-and-a-half long. My eyesight is so bad that I had no idea the darkness in the hair trap was in fact a huge-ass bug. I threw a towel on and literally ran to the kitchen to get the Raid. Then I sprayed the fucker. It ran in circles around the tub, trying to get away from the flaming stream of death I was raining down upon it. Then it finally died on its back, and I had to get rid of it. I used about four paper towels. And then I sprayed down the tub with Lysol. I was shaken for a while after.
I've started checking the tub very closely before getting in.
There's a good article in the TV section of the NY Times about My So-Called Life. I remember that when I was 14, I hated the show, even though I probably saw every one of its 19 episodes a couple times over. I never felt good after watching it, and I just smirked when my high school friends would sing its praises. Looking back, I realize I hated it because I didn't want to be reminded of what it was like to be a teenager. An angsty teenager, that is. That's how real that show was, and I think I now love it in retrospect. Is that weird?
