Non-Famous Twitter Illustrations #1

I know there is a blog out there that takes famous people's interesting and/or funny tweets and illustrates them, which is a brilliant idea, but also someone else's idea, so I figured I would take random people's tweets that are not terribly interesting or funny and illustrate them. I'm going to start with my search for the word cheese, for possibly obvious reasons... hopefully obvious? Seriously, do you even know where you are?

 Really, it was only because my first choice of  "llama" didn't pan out.

Anyway, here is one from @MsReeseCups* on twitter:

"Cheese and doe!"

Yeah, she probably meant "dough" but that wouldn't have made for nearly as cute of an illustration, though it would have been the start of  a delicious pizza.

*How delicious are Reese's Cups!? Really... I mean unless you are allergic to peanuts and then ack... well, possibly still delicious but then, also potentially deadly... or if you are not American and/or don't like peanut butter... they probably taste pretty crappy to you. Never mind, going with delicious!

How I learned not to date at work.

In college, I worked as a desk assistant in the dorms.  That meant I sat behind a partitioned desk from about 8pm to 8am and checked out keys to drunk college kids who lost their keys while out drinking illegally. I also played a lot of pinball.

It was shortly after breaking up with my boyfriend, who had left for the semester break and just, not come back, that one of the dorm security guards, Bobert (named changed for anonymity), made it a point to stop by my desk to chat for a while every evening that we had the same schedule. And then, he asked me out on a date.  I usually just fell into boyfriends after I made them watch Total Recall with me so I hadn't gone on many actual dates, and he was quite handsome, so I was excited to go, though I was not really looking for a relationship... which is a good thing because a relationship TOTALLY wasn't going to happen.

I’m sorry, have I ruined the surprise for you? Yeah, the fact that I “changed his name for anonymity” should have been the first clue… anywho, carrying on…

Bobert decided to take me to a dinner and movie, which is standard dating fare from what I understand.  We were both in college so I was not expecting all that much, but I certainly was not expecting the 99 cent menu at Wendy’s.  But alas, he was handsome and had a totally bitchin’ beard, so junior bacon cheeseburger it was.
We found a seat and I began eating my burger while we chatted, only I was on a date, so instead of shoving the whole burger into my face, I tore off dainty pieces and nibbled them cutely… until I realized that he was staring at me like I was a complete freak of nature.

“What are you doing?” he said gesturing at my neatly torn quarters of hamburger.

“… Eating?”

“Why are you eating like a squirrel?” he demanded.

“I… I eat this way?”

How do you respond to that?  I suppose I could have told him I was of squirrel ancestry and if he was prejudiced against rodentia we could just end this now and he could take me home, which might have been slightly better. But, we somehow resolved the issue of my wildly inappropriate manner of eating and ventured on to the next leg of our date.

Being the big spender he was, instead of going to the movie theater at the mall, Bobert took me across the street to the dollar theater.  For those who don‘t know, once upon a time, they had theaters where tickets only cost a dollar and they played movies that had played at other real theaters but now, a month or two later, were available for much cheaper.  This particular theater was playing a movie I had already seen, a real romantic flick show called “A Time To Kill.”  But again, it was a new experience for me, so I just went with it, though I was getting a little less patient.

Now I have mentioned this was a date, and as such, I had gussied up some.  You know, clean clothes, brushed hair, lipstick, eyeliner, I might have even been wearing eye shadow because I wasted time on things like that back then. And so, I was completely mortified when Bobert began a rant, as we waited for the movie to begin, about how he had come to the conclusion that women who wore makeup were horrible ugly people who had no self-esteem and had to cover their terrible personalities with a slathering of bright colors. After blinking at him in disbelief, I recovered and blurted, “I think men have beards for the same reason!” TAKE THAT BEARD FACE!

About that time, the lights went down and I was relieved to escape into the world of horrific racism, murder, and  KKK meetings that the movie he had chosen to take me to was actually about, while arranging myself into a “DANGER position” and trying to scoot myself as far away from him as I could in my rickety-assed dollar theater chair, so he would stop “accidentally” touching my hand/leg/aura.

I spent the whole ride home in the same position, not even trying to make conversation any more, just staring out the window, waiting for my escape. The date ended with me pressed against the door waving with one hand while clawing at the door handle with the other.

And then I sat and fretted that I was now going to have to see this person every weekend, because we worked together and it was actually his job to come check on me. I prepared myself for it at work with extra magazines and books, so I could artfully ignore him when he came in, but he didn’t… until about two months later. At about 2 am, the door to the lobby opened and he came in with his security clipboard and his stupid beard. Thankfully, I had had enough of a wait so I was no longer allergic to him though I wasn't terribly excited to see him either. The passage of time allowed me to be cordial while he told me how much he had enjoyed our date and explained that his sister (a.k.a. my hero) had gotten mono directly after our date so he took some time off and that was why I hadn’t heard from him. I assured him it had not been a problem, at all.  I have not had one moment of regret since, though, that I never saw him or his beard again after that night.


p.s. For the record, I love beards, just not beard-faced jerk-heads.

Blarg of Note

I obsessively check my stats and so, at approximately 5:13 and 45 seconds yesterday, I started typing capitalized exclamations mixed with nonsensical obscenities at my dear friend, Vez (I'm big on nonsensical obscenities. They are much funnier when the word choice/combination makes no sense),  because I noticed a huge spike in my viewers while chatting with her, and those views were being referred by blogger's BLOG OF EFFING NOTE!

Yup, I have been pestering blogger for at least a month, daily, letting them know each time I posted, because I think I am pretty awesome, and HOLY CRAP(!!!) they actually listened. And now I have a bunch more people following me expecting continued funny... which is a whole lot of pressure, but I have nothing better to do at the moment so, WHEE! 

Yes, I'm rambling. I am still totally excited.  How about I let the Cheeseblarg animals take over for the moment?

I couldn't agree more, Blue Whale!

Yes, llama, welcome to all our new friends and old! Thanks for all the comments and subscriptions!

Dammit, narwhal...

So, yes, this is my blarg. It is of note. 

For those new visitors, there are tidbits of information all around.  

To find out why I keep saying "blarg" instead of blog, click here

For an awesome lesson on algebra featuring zombies, click here

To understand why I often refer to goats as dogs, click here

Or you could just read EVERYTHING!!! That would be okay too. 

When Food Attacks!

Many, many years ago, I stopped assigning moral value to food. Nommy noms are no longer "good" or "bad," they are just food.  Cakes aren't sinful, candy bars aren't naughty, carrot sticks aren't chaste, lettuce doesn't make me worthy of love and praise. I eat food and it is just food, and my life is infinitely happier that way.  As I always say, the only thing you should ever feel guilty about eating is babies.

Since I've chosen to surround myself with people who feel the same for so long, it is now really foreign to me when I go visit food blogs full of amazing, delicious-looking pictures like those at Willow Bird Baking or I Am Baker and people in the comments talk about how dangerous the food is.  My mind automatically pictures little cake truffle gangs, or confectioneries with bombs strapped to their bodies.

Really, the only dangers inherent to food that I am willing to acknowledge are a) allergies, b) spoilage/poisoning and/or c) inhaling it into your lungs by accident, which I tend to do way too often for my own liking.


No really, that is all I am willing to acknowledge. Humor blarg. Serious debate is prohibited. As is the "D" word...

The Woodsman

Sorry for my sporadic absences, but I'm fairly certain there is a crazed woodsman with a hatchet in my brain cavity.  He looks a lot like "Texx with two Xs" in my mind.  My nephew warned me about him after watching Scooby-Doo, but I told him I was impervious to woodsmen... which seems to be untrue.

I actually have a long history of migraine headaches, and have tried many things to get rid of them.  The first prophylactic intervention was a blood pressure medicine, but seeing as I have low blood pressure usually, it basically made me sleep 18 hours a day... after which I usually woke up with a dull aching in my head.

And then there was the Topomax, which was one of the worst experiences of my life.  I trogged through days of crying hysterically at insanely stupid things (like not being able to find my keys in my purse and then realizing that my husband had used them and I would have to walk back inside to get them), not being able to drive at all because I was too spaced out, scaring the hell out of my family with aggressive behavior that I don't recall at all, and then the proverbial straw on the back of a overloaded camel, forgetting how to walk.

I guess you would call it forgetting how to walk...  I came out of the bathroom walking just fine, I abruptly stopped and then I was standing there, a few steps from the end of my bed, trying to will myself to walk forward and lay down and my brain's answers was, "Nope, I don't believe we will be doing that."  So I stood there, swaying, while my husband tried to figure out what the hell I was doing, and had a silent conversation in my head trying to convince my brain to let me move, that sounded like this:

Me: Uh, I'd like to lay down now...
Brain: Nope...
Me: No really, let's lay down.
Brain: Yeah... no.
Me: But this is really easy, just go forward, bend at knees, plop onto bed?
Brain: Yeah... not gonna happen.
Me (thinking): I could just flop onto the bed and be done with this foolishness...
Brain: You know I can hear you, right...?

Somehow I indicated to my husband what was happening and he came and helped me lower myself onto the bed.  At that moment, an executive decision was made that being able to move at will was really important to me and I would no longer be taking devil drugs to prevent migraines.

At the most now, I lose several hours a day to sitting in dark rooms and crying that my brain is being hacked apart while I wait for my medications to kick in.  I find though, that it is a far sight better than being completely useless 24 hours a day from drugs that are designed to stop me from having a few hours of pain.



Note: My doctor is convinced it is just migraines though I've had no MRIs or CAT scans w/ contrast (because I have no insurance so they avoid those expensive tests, though I think I'll be forcing the issue next month when I see her)... but it is not vision problems, or blood pressure. And it is not caffeine or lack of caffeine, or diet, or exercise... changing all of those things makes no difference at all... my brain is just an asshole... or there is a crazed woodsman in there.

The Taking Tree

Is it just me or is the Giving Tree about an apple tree and a sociopath with auditory hallucinations?

Okay, fine, maybe not, but that book always makes me cry and I really dislike that jerk kid.


If you've never read the story, you can see it here.

The Case of the Missing Reactions

If you have no idea what it is like to be neurotic or don't really know what I mean by "I'm neurotic," this post should help you. 

Now, I know that some of you watch my blarg via RSS, which is a different format from the actual blogger site, so you probably don't see that each post allows you to choose, "like," "funny," hilarious," or "llama." They are there because I thrive on feedback, so if you don't feel like commenting, you can always click a ticky box and stroke my ego.

For quite some time though, when I load my main blarg page in the morning, I notice that some of my reactions from the day before have disappeared. Logically, I know this is most likely a glitch, but this is the story my brain tries to convince me is true:

Oh look, Da Cheeseblarg has updated! Hooray!

I must let her know how much I enjoyed this post!

HILARIOUS!

That reminds me, I need to order some cheese!

FARMVILLE!

TOAST BLASTERS 2000!

UNFUNNY! SUCK IT, JROSE!

Cold

I was so cold today that I actually contemplated setting myself on fire as a solution. 

King of the Corndogs

Today, while enjoying lunch with my nephew after picking him up from preschool, we were introduced to royalty.  It is obvious that my nephew doesn't have the same aversion as I do to personifying food, because after carefully considering, he picked up one of his mini-corndogs, decreed it "King of the Corndogs" because it was the longest in the order.. and then he promptly ate it, with no remorse at all.

RIP King of the Corndogs - It was a short reign. You were delicious.

House Stalking

Every once in a while, I become convinced that I am going to win the lottery so I begin detailed plans for investments and other extravagant purchases.

Part of that, recently, has been house hunting.  And hunting is precisely what I have been doing, because unless you live here in my city, you probably have no idea that the people who did the street planning in this town either had severe ADHD OR they were heavily intoxicated. Probably the latter since this is the wild west and cowboys are always drunk as hell on whiskey in westerns, right?

See, my town has a Cheese Drive*, a Cheese Lane, and 2 Cheese Avenues, and the address on the website just said "900 Cheese."

After three tries, I became convinced that expensive houses for sale in my town have some sort of cloaking device that makes them only visible to people who actually HAVE the money to even consider buying the house...

Today's hunt was made on account of a search for another house that I decided against (in my imaginary search for a house to buy). Even though the pictures of it were beautiful, and amazing, and perfectly the design I wanted, it was up a mountain, on a road that was at grade of approximately 30 degrees.  It was hard enough getting my car to agree to go up the street when the roads were clear, but I would have had to refrain from leave my house for 8 months out of the year when snow was on the ground, so my car didn't slide down the super steep hill, killing myself (and a lovely neighborhood full of frolicking children and rich folk who like jogging up ridiculously steep roads) in a spectacular fiery crash, because that is what happens when you slide down an ice covered incline, right?

But, actually, I couldn't find that house.  I found where it SHOULD be, but it wasn't really there, as far as I could see.

I did find the house today, on the fourth try.  On the second Cheese Avenue, that I didn't know existed, that was about 8 blocks away from the normal Cheese Avenue, down a one way street...

For the record, I do not waste any relator's time being shown the insides of houses I want to "imaginary buy", I just stalk the houses, driving by, looking at them longingly while playing Journey songs for them on my car stereo.

*The name of the street has been changed in case I really do win the lottery and buy said house, though living on Cheese Ave. would be pretty boss.

Talk amongst yourselves...

Thank you, Jimmy.

I have been on an epic quest for the past week or two.  I was minding my own business, reading other people's posts on Facebook, and there it was, the object of my desire, that which I need more than anything else in this world... my "precious" if you will.

Ben & Jerry's Late Night Snack Inspired by Late Night with Jimmy Fallon

Yes, it is an ice cream, but not just any ice cream.  It has FUDGE COVERED POTATO CHIP CLUSTERS in it! AND a salty caramel swirl!!!!

Yes, this may sound grody to some of you... I don't want to hear it! I need this ice cream, I need it!

And today, I went to get it because I actually told two local grocery stores that I needed it more than anything else in this world (after checking every store in town twice in a week) and one of them called two days ago and said "It will be in the system on Friday." So I ventured out and sludged through a giant mud pit that is my parking area, covering myself and the interior of my car with mud, only to get there and find, OMG, no precious!

So in my regular fashion, I then resorted to grumbling quietly to myself about how it was ridiculous of said store to call and tease me with useless information when there was NO "LATE NIGHT SNACK" ICE CREAM ON THE SHELVES!!! I don't think they understand how important this is to my continued existence.

I don't want the ice cream in the system, store, I want the ice cream IN MY BELLEH! I WANT THE ICE CREAM IN MY BELLEH!!!

How I learned to wear green on St. Patrick's day.

My mom convinced me, one year in high school, that orange was just as suitable for St. Patrick's Day as green was.  Something about catholic and protestant Irish...

Not unsurprisingly, it takes more time to explain this than it takes someone to pinch you.

It occurs to me now that I may have just pissed my mom off shortly before this (I was a teenager, par for the course, ya know), and it may have been a revenge plot of some sort.

The Case of the Cotton Candy Tree- SOLVED

So you know how I posted this tree the other day?

It was a tree Farmville didn't have*, which is why I drew it... 'cause a cotton candy tree is pretty boss, right?
And apparently someone at Farmville thought so too, because 5 days after I posted this image... which received an enormous amount of hits this weekend, thanks to a link from Cakewrecks, they created THIS:

Hrm, what an awesome idea... a cotton candy tree!

With a grey trunk, with white stripes on it...

That they are selling... 

That seems to be made on the fly because it is programmed with the information for a gum tree, not a cotton candy tree, but these things happen, right?

I'm not saying that Farmville has people stalking me to steal my ideas, because that would just be nutty, but I don't think it is outside the realm of possibility that my tree was seen and it inspired someone to create this as a result.

Until it is proven otherwise, I think I should put "concept artist for Farmville/Zynga" on my resume'.

*Proven otherwise, apparently they had it as a special item for a week during November, when I wasn't playing...I'm a dork... total coincidence, this is what happens when you're neurotic kids. Sorry FarmVille... nothing to see here.

I'll let you know if I have super strength tomorrow...

I went to the doctor today because I put on my shoe and then my toe hurt, and then, when I took off my shoe, there was a big red unhappy bump on it with two little holes (that apparently only I can see), and my toe was swollen.
I showed the doctor and he tried to convince me it was just a tiny thorn that had attacked my foot and NOT a giant black widow and that I most likely would not be losing the toe.
"If it was a black widow bite, it would get a big red unhappy bump, and your toe would swell, and it would feel tingly, or numb, or weird," he said to reassure me.
"But it does feel tingly, and numb, and weird!" I exclaimed, which he totally ignored.

So my prognosis is (paraphrasing) "*shrug* Soak it to draw out 'whatever is in there' and come back if gross stuff starts coming out of it."
I know he was talking about pus but all I can think of is the urban legends concerning baby spiders.

p.s. It would probably help you to know that there are actually black widows in my house. So it is not just me being completely neurotic, only partially.

Happy Pi Day!

Mmm, 3.1415926535!

The Bête Noire

I just started watching all of the episodes of "How I Met Your Mother" recently.  In one of the episodes that I watched within the past few days, it mentioned "Field of Dreams." Since I've never watched the movie (don't dig on Kevin Costner or baseball... or dramas), and since it was on today, and since HIMYM was talking about how awesome it was, I figured I'd watch it... and then, I quickly lost interest and took a nap because on to the screen walked my film foe. It was like, "Four strikes, you're out, movie!" (See, told you I don't like baseball...)
Now, I am sure that Ray Liotta is a lovely man.  I've never heard a single bad thing about him that I can recall. I understand that actors are not the parts they play, but gha, I hate Ray Liotta*.
Really, the problem is, he is apparently too good of an actor... and the first movie I saw him in was Unlawful Entry. I just can't get over it. Especially since he is a character actor and plays the same icky bad guy all the time.  Even when he is not playing the bad guy... he is still the bad guy to me.

 Kinda like Sam Rockwell and Craig T. Nelson (Poltergeist 2 ruined him for me).
*shudder*

* In movies, I hate him in movies. It's not like I would spit on him and shove him into traffic if I ever met him.  It is only on the screen that I never ever ever ever EVER want to see him. Except in Identity, that movie is AWESOME!

In bed...

I feel like this fortune cookie from my delicious lunch is mocking me...

Yes, "you should," right, Cookie? If only you weren't afraid of interacting with people on the phone, and  you weren't so socially awkward, and your intestines didn't betray you in moments of stress, and probably if you could make left turns in traffic without having mini panic attacks? There are a lot of things you SHOULD be able to undertake and complete...

SHUT UP! YOU'RE A COOKIE! I'M AWESOME!

Stupid cookie!

More terrifying than a barrel of monkeys!

I don't think "fun" is the appropriate adjective for a barrel of monkeys.  And who the hell stores monkeys in a barrel, anyway?  That seems really cruel.

I'd never avoid Bill Haverchuck!

If we could just switch over to thumb scanning payments, like in Back to the Future 2, I think that might improve my credit score. It seems it is just the time it takes to mentally process that I am about to spend actual money for something that keeps me from doing it.  See, I have really bad credit... I don't even know the number, but I know it is bad.  I don't have any credit cards anymore because a) they won't give them to me, and b) I don't want them because I can't use them properly.

I didn't mean to not pay my bills in the past, it's just... I don't like taking money out of my bank account. A lot of the time when I wasn't paying my bills at first, I actually HAD the money. It was right there, in my bank, where it looked so nice and made me feel grown up and responsible... and taking it out made me feel sad, so I just left the money in my bank, until people were threatening mean things, like turning off my utilities. Of course, paying bills also equaled not having any money in the bank, at all, afterward... if I had known that there would had been any extra left over, it might have been less painful.

The creation of automatic bill pay made my life easier. If I don't have "control" of  money coming out of my account, it's bearable, but actually writing checks for things feels like giant stabbing spears of sadness and anxiety to me.

This is all compounded by the fact that my go to defense mechanism is avoidance, so since bills make me feel bad I avoid bills.  Thankfully, now, I have arranged my life so I only have about 2 bills that I actually have to actively pay, which is just about the amount of bill paying stress I can take.

                                       Before                                                                 After 

Farmville Finishing School

Many people keep in touch with their friends and family via Facebook, and it is a great way to keep up. I adore Facebook; all my favorite people are there. But, every once in a while there arises a problem. Many of the friends and family members who we are glad to keep in touch with on Facebook also love playing social media games (read: Farmville) and, unfortunately, a few of them get a little over-excited and behave badly when it comes to common gaming courtesy. These are not things they would do face-to-face, of course, some of them even taught you the manners they are ignoring, but on the tubes, they sometimes need a little nudge in the courteous direction.

*shoves ever so gently*

Remember, this is for people who LIKE playing games. If you don’t ‘cause you’re really cool and have an actual social life/job, don’t take it out on the rest of us game dorks. Surely you figured out long ago how to block apps, but the following should still amuse.





Like it or leave it:
"Like" is a very handy feature for game playing on Facebook. It allows you to give a nod to the poster when you've taken something they've posted. It is like tipping your hat and saying thanks. It's like thank you notes your mom made you write for terrible things you got as presents growing up because it let the person who gifted it know you received it and that you were taught manners. If you don't acknowledge the gift-givers, they get annoyed...and then you don't receive any more black sweatshirts with glitter, and musical notes, and rhinestones, because you were in the orchestra and clearly, glitter and puff paint is your style. You write that thank you note even though wearing that sweatshirt, in south Florida where it doesn't even get cold, got you made fun of your entire 7th grade year and you have nightmares about it still...
But these are actually things you want, you are actively clicking them.
So make a point to “like” things when you take them, otherwise you are just a common snatcher... a common snatcher with bad manners.

Breakin’ 2- Electric Boogaloo:
When someone is sick/on vacation/mourning the death of a loved one and makes a point of announcing it on their status, unless they are sending you requests, LEAVE THEM ALONE. Get your watering cans/valentines/wooden boards somewhere else. Coming back to 332 requests after being in the hospital for a week in traction as a result of a terrible skiing accident just adds insult to injury. You might as well just post on their wall, “I didn’t care enough to notice that you were away… it probably wasn‘t very important anyway. Can I have a pixilated sheep?”

I'll steal your honey like I stole your bike :
Don't take everything someone posts. “But there are so many gold nuggets, I just can't help myself!” Help yourself, stop at 6. Sniping is bad. People don’t like snipers. That’s why they stick them in those towers alone. It’s not for the head shots, it is because they’re uncool.

I heard she’s been givin’ it up to all them graffiti guys:
Avoid allowing a game to post things on your friends' walls unless there is a damned good reason for it (or unless they have expressed that it is okay). When you post something one someone’s wall, they get notification, often an email. Then they get all excited that they have some love from a friend on their wall when they really needed it because they were having a really hard afternoon and all they needed was a kind gesture, and there it is… only it’s not love, it is a stupid post telling them that you found some fuel on their make-believe farm and that you have nothing nice to say to them at all. It’s a let-down.
I propose that all wall posts from games should be accompanied by a note reminding the recipient of what you like about them. That way, if you are crapping up their personal wall with your pig slop (does anyone ever want pig slop?!) at least when they see it is just a stupid game request, they can have an uplifting experience, instead of just annoyance.

Sham-a-lama-ding-dong:
You’re smart enough to know when it is a scam. Really? 100 unicorns for your farm by clicking HERE! No... and you'll probably need to change your password, too.

Something’s got to give:
Again, unless you have discussed it with someone beforehand, multiple gifts (6 or more a day) are obnoxious, really, even if you need them and are sending them so they can send it back. If you figure each person is sending 3 or more gift, times the amount of people you had to add to get a 26x26 farm, that is way too many freaking requests a day. And that is just one game. Most people play several.

The corollary of which is... If someone posts that they finished a collection, or mission, or that they are avoiding it all together, don't send them those objects. Request them, sure, but don't send them.

Yes, I am saying that you should actually make an effort to know what is going on with your friend's games (yes, your friends... people who you would like not to hate you). Take a minute to research. If worse comes to worse, just add random people whose friendship doesn't matter to you and annoy the crap out of them. Who cares if internet strangers think you’re a jerk!

Thanks to Rhea, Seja, and Gemma, for helping me with various aspects of this post!

Llama Runway

I might be quiet for a few days, but I would love it if you would come over to Cheeseblarg on Facebook and share your dressed up llamas.

Cheeseblarg's Llama Dress Up!

Sweet weasels, I should have taped myself creating this because I probably could have won some sort of prize for yelling and cursing nonsensically at my computer. But it is done, and uploaded, and it is all for you... and it was also for me, because the parts where I was not cursing and yelling and wishing everyone in the world dead, were actually pretty fun.

For the record, this was my first time doing Flash, ever.  And I had to figure out how to use it myself, because the tutorials I found didn't use the version I was using, which is apparently completely different. But now that I know how to do it, I could probably be encouraged to do more sometime. *nudge*
Let me know how you like it, and tell a friend to come play!

GHA! Hold tight if it isn't working for you. It seems to load every other time. I am working on other hosting. ETA: Hooray! Changed hosting, working now! Thanks Luc and Caz!

Llama Theatre: Total Llama

Ready for our date? Wha!? You're wearing sweatpants?! Oh well...

It's Llama Theatre time again!

Another of my favorite movies, this time from 1990. I actually employed this movie quite a bit in college to try to attract nerds.  It worked a couple times.  I'm still using it... *waggles eyebrows*

Get your ass to Mars!

OMG! 100th POST!

HEY! HEY GUISE!!! This is my 100th post! OMG!!! I started this blarg in November because I wanted to bitch about my computer's touchpad. It is still a jerk, for the record. I think it would work better if I only had one finger. Damn my other fingers for being within THREE INCHES of the touch pad, DAMN THEM!


So, I'd like to tell you about one of the most frightening experiences of my teen years.  I grew up in a house in Miami Beach in a kinda middle class neighborhood.  My sister and I were both lucky enough to have our own rooms but we shared a bathroom.  Each night, there was an ongoing battle (that my sister probably didn't know was happening... can't recall ever bringing it up to her).

See, I am taller than my sister, and I'm also neurotic, as I have mentioned, and I was much more reserved than she was back then. So, every night when I went to take a shower, I would carefully stick together the pink plastic curtain that covered the big window in the shower (who the hell puts a giant window in a shower?!?) so that none of our neighbors would accidentally catch of glimpse of me while I was naked in the shower, that had a giant window in it... at my chest level, for some damned reason.  Of course, this meant I had to blindly fish for the shampoo and conditioners that were on the window sill behind the curtain, but it seemed worth it, because I am neurotic. Every single night, I would go in there and the curtain would be wide open and I would stick it back together, and every time my sister used it, being NOT neurotic, she would open it with wild abandon to get to the shampoo like a normal person.

And so it happened that I got up in the middle of the night, one night, to use the bathroom.  I sat down, half asleep, and started to pee.  And then I noticed movement to my left, towards the shower where my sister had left the curtain open.  'Ah,' I thought to myself plainly, 'It's just the shrub under the window.' And then it dawned on me, in slow motion. 'The shrub... is under my bedroom window.... not the bathroom...." at which point I turned my head ever so slowly to the left and saw the following:

Okay, he may not have had a Jason mask on, but I swear to weasels, that is what my brain interpreted in the split second I saw it. And then he was treated to the lovely view of me scrambling off the toilet (thankfully, I had finished peeing), pulling up my pants as I crawled, on all fours, out of the room.

Once I got out in the the hallway and shut the door, I tore through the house towards my parent's room and woke them up shouting that someone was looking in the window. This resulted in my dad pulling on his running shorts, backwards apparently, busting through the front door and chasing the Peeping Tom down our street holding up his shorts (that were threatening to fall off)  with one hand and waving, what I remember as a machete (but could have been either an ax handle or a Louisville Slugger), in his other hand, barefoot. He might have been yelling too.

I can't remember if that stopped the battle of the open curtain, but probably not.  It did give me a sort of kinship with Rockwell though.

Search-o-rama!

I'm taking the day off. Have fun with this word search while I'm staring off into space, peacefully.

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Robot dog?

When my nephew grows up, he told me, he would like a dog that makes robots for him while he is at work so that he just has to check them and make sure that they are made right when he gets home.