Funny web site!

At the risk of being labeled insensitive to other cultures, please click here to check out this hilarious blog Engrish Funny.

Dorking out with vampires and hobbits...

It's posts like this one that make me wonder whether I'm hurting my street cred by talking about my dorkiness in such a public forum. And then I remember that I have no street cred and all is well in the world once more.

I think I'm turning into a high school uber-dork. I will explain.

First, I love Harry Potter. (no, this isn't what makes me a dork...or maybe it is but I've gone WAY farther down the path of dorkness so this is really just the tip of the iceberg) I read all the books, I've seen all the movies. I've pre-ordered from Amazon, stayed up too late reading about wizard battles, and I cried when Dumbledore died. (if you don't know who Dumbledore is...seriously, are you living under a rock? Get with the program.) My point is that I really REALLY liked those books and so I was pleasantly surprised that the movie makers so effectively captured the color and essence of Harry Potter in the films. That's hard to do, you know? For example, I loooooooved The DaVinci Code but was horrified by how badly Ron Howard butchered the movie. Although in fairness I may have just been distracted by Tom Hanks' horrible hair:



Much time has passed since the last Harry Potter book was released and, if I'm being honest, I sort of missed the tween-targeted fantasy easy reading. So you'll understand why I decided to read Twilight (which my friend Robin passed on to me...so really I blame her for all this). And you know what? Surprise, surprise...I liked it. And if I were a 15 year old girl I think I'd be in love with Edward Cullen, the dreamy and moody (not to mention potentially homicidal...that's so hot) 17-year old vampire.

So last night my friend Emma and I went to see the movie and...um...NO.



Three thoughts come to mind:

1. I'm REALLY glad I read the book before going to see the movie because there's no way I would've chosen to read the story after watching that garbage.

2. She is SO ANNOYING. I mean, I understand the whole angst-ridden teenager thing but SERIOUSLY? The shifty-eyed, dramatic swallowing, shallow breathing, "dad, you so don't get me" thing gets REALLY old after awhile. Hint: it got old after the first two minutes...two hours of it was enough to make me want to get my tubes tied.

3. Did anyone notice Robert Pattinson is sort of hot? I'd seen him in UsWeekly and on blogs and things but my only response to those photos was "please wash your hair." But dang does that boy clean up NICE. Perhaps I just love him because he played Cedric Diggory in Harry Potter & The Goblet of Fire? Or perhaps it's because I can't resist a brooding piece of chiseled, man-candy with great (read: clean) hair (helloooooo Patrick Dempsey!). But whatever it is that boy is CUTE. Pale, but cute. Maybe a little dirty, but cute.

Long story short - don't waste your time on the movie but do consider picking up the book. I'm currently reading number two (thanks, Emma!) and I'll be sure to report back. I know, I know...you're holding your breath in anticipation...or is that protest? You can thank me later.

Now, if you weren't convinced of my uber-dorkness yet, allow me to throw one more straw on the camel's back. This weekend I TiVo'd ALL THREE Lord of The Rings movies.

Number one was fun. (those hobbits! adorable little imps!) Number two...um...okay, you lost me...but hey, it's three hours of Viggo Mortenson! Hooray!



I'm on to number three tonight and even though I can no longer follow the story line I'm really looking forward to seeing how this ends. But what will I do when it's all over?

I suppose I'll have to join a Dungeons & Dragons club or start attending SciFi conventions...it seems like the logical next step. Who's with me?!

Confessions of a stress eater...

I've always envied people who can't eat when they're stressed. I am not that way. In fact, when I get stressed out I eat more than normal. And it's not just that - I eat CRAP.

Let's take the last two days as an example:

For dinner on Sunday I ate 3/4 of a box of Tagalong girl scout cookies. Maybe that wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't had a box of Cheese Nips 100-calorie packs for breakfast. (for those of you keeping score at home, there are either six or eight 100-calorie packs in a box - I lost track after number five...and I'm fairly certain they're not designed to all be consumed in one sitting) Yesterday I had McDonalds for lunch - chicken strips, fries and a chocolate milkshake, thank you very much - followed by lemonade and gummy bears for dinner.

In my defense, I was at the movies. (I went to see Twilight...which is a whole other blog post.) Still...gross.

I realize of course that this isn't healthy. That just because I'm stressed doesn't mean I should try to induce diabetes. But I can't help it!

I'm reminded of a poem by Shel Silverstein:

I Must Remember
I must remember…
Turkey on Thanksgiving,
Pudding on Christmas,
Eggs on Easter,
Chicken on Sunday,
Fish on Friday,
Leftovers, Monday.
But ah, me – I am such a dunce.
I went and ate then all at once.

Except in my case you'd have to replace the "turkey" with "cheese-flavored foods" and "eggs" with "egg McMuffins."

But today is a new day and I need to learn to channel my energy into something that is not made wholly out of Crisco and cholesterol. I'm not certain what that something will be...but anything has to be better than Death by Girl Scout Cookie, no?

Favorite news story of the day...

From the Associated Press:

Feces-throwing monkey on the loose in Tampa Bay
1 hr 37 mins ago

CLEARWATER, Fla. – Wildlife officials said a rhesus monkey known to throw feces when mad is on the loose in Tampa Bay. Authorities have been trying to capture the primate since Tuesday afternoon, but it managed to evade a bucket truck and tranquilizer dart.

Gary Morse with the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission says the adult male is thought to have escaped from an unlicensed source. It was last seen in Clearwater.

The monkey is not considered dangerous.

Happy song time!

Enjoy!

I have a bone to pick...

Uh uh. Oh no you didn't.

I don't know what disgusts me more. The fact that this girl is publicly whoring herself out so brazenly? Or the fact that I didn't think about this first?

I kid, I kid. (sort of...)

Rest in Peace Ricardo Montalban

Ricardo Montalban passed away today at the age of 88. Back when I was a girl and my grandmother would let me stay up late, eating ice cream and watching inappropriate television (like ANY 5 year old should be watching Dallas and The Love Boat?), Ricardo Montalban was a kind of hero for me.

For one, he was one of the first Latinos I saw on regular TV (save for the ocassional Mexican gardener or maid on Dynasty...I told you I watched inappropriate TV...NOW do you understand me?). The only other one was Eric Estrada on CHiPs.



Not as good. I mean sure sure, he was sort of hunky by 1980s standards, but he was just a street cop. Ricardo Montalban...well he was something special. I loved his voice and his accent (the way he sounded like almost every man in my family), I loved his white suit, and his teeny little side kick. And most of all I loved the fact that he could be Hispanic without talking like Speedy Gonzalez or looking like the Frito Bandito.

Mmmmm...Fritos...mmmm. Sorry, this pre-wedding diet is making me a little fragile.

Where was I?

If you didn't grow up watching Fantasy Island here's a little taste...try not to hurt yourself running out to BestBuy for the boxed set:



Ricardo, you'll be missed. Hasta luego, amigo.

Albums that changed my life...

I was just reading this article about albums that shaped a person's life and it made me start thinking about those that shaped mine.

The first album that I remember loving was - and please, don't judge me - Hey, by Julio Iglesias. Here's the English version (not as good) to delight your senses and boggle your musical minds:



A little known fact: my dad was in the entertainment industry and friends with Julio Iglesias. You have to understand that I loved this man. I loved him as passionately as my tiny little five year old brain could possibly understand. So you can understand why the time he called my house and I answered the phone the conversation went something like this:

Me: Blaya residence!
JI: Hello, is your father home?
Me: May I ask who's calling?
JI: It's Julio Iglesias.
Me: (DROP RECEIVER AND RUN FROM ROOM SOBBING HYSTERICALLY THEN, TO MY DAD, It...it...i-i-i-i-t...it's Ju-ju-ju-ju-SOB!-Julio...SOB! JULIO IGLESIAS! SOB!

So you see I've always been this cool.

Another album that really rocked my world was Electric Youth by Debbie Gibson, and specifically this song:



I distinctly recall teasing the crap out of my bangs, tilting my black bowler hat just so and roller skating on my patio to this jam.

Next up: Kenny Rogers' The Gambler:



I believe I've already discussed in this blog just how much I love me some Kenny. I also told you about how my fiance does NOT love him some Kenny. And if he weren't so cute that would totally be a deal breaker. Kenny Rogers reminds me of winters in Colorado when my four siblings and I would cram into a tiny bedroom stuffed with two sets of bunk beds and a trundle bed. It also reminds me of the time we "hanged" my sister's Cabbage Patch Kid Duke from the aforementioned bunk bed using my brother's belt. That did NOT end well. Monika freaked out, ran to the living room to rat us out to my parents, and we all got punished BIG TIME. Damn little sisters, they never have a sense of humor.

Next up, Graceland by Paul Simon. Man I loved that video with Chevy Chase:



Chevy Chase used to be so cool. The Three Amigos remains one of my favorite movies of all times. I think we wore out the tape on our VHS because we watched it so much.



Anywho, oddly enough Paul Simon reminds me of the Florida Keys and of the apartment my mother painted Pepto Pink and decorated with flamingo accessories. (weird ones...there was a flamingo toilet plunger in the living room, no joke. Also, the bathroom was painted bright yellow which always made us laugh because it was the color of pee. We were so easily amused.)

Ohmigosh, how could I forget?



I maybe loved NKOTB more than I loved Julio Iglesias and, people, this is saying A LOT. I especially loved Joey McIntyre who was the youngest and closest to my age at the time. I had a life sized Joey poster in my room and the rest of the walls were covered in pages I'd ripped out from Big Bopper and Tiger Beat. (Scott Baio anyone?) I'll admit that when I heard NKOTB was getting back together I got a bit squealy. I was extra squealy when they performed on the Today Show and I don't even care that Donny has male pattern baldness and Jordan has probably had his eyes done. I love them just the same.

And now I'll leave you with the one last life changing album...one of the greatest albums of all time and a cornucopia of fodder for the karaoke lovers. Bon Jovi, Slippery When Wet. This one goes out to Julia for reminding me that everyone should seek inspiration from 80s/90s hair bands:

Somebody make it stop...

Today I heard the WORST song ever. Okay maybe not EVER but it's definitely on my list of least favorite songs of all time. (along with Loving You by Minnie Riperton and Love To Love You, Baby by the usually fabulous Donna Summer...they're like nails on a chalkboard to me. But if I may digress for a moment, if you haven't seen the video for Love To Love You, Baby please do click on the link above...what the F is that guy doing? Interpretive dance? In white spandex? Yikes. As my mother would say, "Spandex is a privilege.")

Anywho, back to today - the latest song making me cringe is I Hate This Part by The Pussycat Dolls. I can only embed their New Years performance of the song so here it is:



OH MY GOD, STOP IT NOW.

The song is called I Hate This Part which is ironic because that's exactly what I was thinking for approximately 90% of the song. Especially the chorus:

I can't take it any longer
Thought that we were stronger
All we do is linger
Slipping through our fingers
I don't wanna try now
All that's left is good-bye
To find a way that I can tell you
I hate this part right here
I hate this part right here
I just can't take your tears
I hate this part right here

When did it become okay for song writers to stop having - oh, I don't know - compelling lyrics?

First of all, I want to tell the guy in this song to put on his big girl panties and stop crying. She dumped you dude. Yes, it was probably because of something you did, and no you can't fix it...MOVE ON. And as for the trollop heart breaker, FINE, we GET IT. You hate it. I hate a lot of things - The Jonas Brothers, honey mustard, people who say "for all intensive purposes" instead of "intents and purposes"...but you know what? You suck it up and complain about it on your blog. STOP IT. STOP IT NOW.

Sigh. Breathe in, breathe out.

I was just stuck in LA traffic for an hour and 15 minutes and I'm cranky. And I'm taking my crankiness out on the Pussycat Dolls who I usually secretly love even though I totally question the school of thought that they're all about promoting female empowerment. Because come on, there is NOTHING empowering about not wearing pants in public (hello! one of the most popular nightmares EVER) or about red vinyl suffocating your lady parts.



Lady parts need to breathe too, you know?

Help me...

Don't you hate it when you get a song stuck in your head? Don't you hate it even more when it's a song like this:



Make it stop. Make it stop, PLEASE.

Yet another interesting blog of the week...

I really like the site "Childhood Memories Of Yours" which encourages readers to submit their own.

I think my favorites would include the time I shoved a Cheerio up my little sister's nose (sorry, Monika...okay, not really) or the time my older sister insisted on keeping her t-shirt on when jumping off our boat and into the water...the shirt caught on the hook used to tie the boat to the dock and she was left dangling like a puppet with just her toes touching the water. She spent a good 10 minutes trying to disentangle herself before anyone would notice but eventually had to call out for help. Oh good times! (sorry, Michelle...okay again, not really)

Oh, I'm also pretty fond of the time I stole the notary stamp from my high school secretary's desk, and wrote a notarized letter from my mom saying it was okay for me to get my bellybutton pierced. (you had to be over 18 to do it without parental permission) My mom eventually found out about the piercing when my sister shouted "Ask her how her bellybutton is healing!" And let me just tell you, Mom was NOT happy. (I believe the words "trailer trash" were bandied about but I have blocked the entire experience from my memory)

Now you see why I don't feel bad about retelling the t-shirt, boat dangling story? :)

Blog of the week...

I've shared this one with numerous friends but it's too good not to post here!

SP Studio is a German (Dutch? Indian? What country's flag IS that?) web site that allows you to turn yourself (and others) into a South Park character. Trust me...this is fun for HOURS!

Once a squid, always a squid.

My friend Emma and I have had this conversation numerous times and I'm curious to get the blogosphere's perspective on this issue. It all goes back to one basic ideal: that in friendship, like in war and the Victoria's Secret Semi-Annual Sale, there are rules of engagement. Yes, yes...I realize this sounds a bit "90210" (the original one...I don't know who all these skinny 12 year olds think they're kidding) but it's really very simple.

Example #1: you never date a friend's ex.

RIGHT?! I mean, DUH. It's common sense. Another rule is the classic example #2: you always tell your friend when she has spinach in her teeth, toilet paper on her shoe or puke in her hair. (okay, that last one was from my college days but it's still good advice.)

Example #3: you do not befriend your friend's mortal enemy. Now I recently had a friend (former friend) break this rule. This former friend chose to attach herself to the hip of my nemesis, a woman who made my life hell for a year and who I consider to be up there with Fran Drescher and Lindsay Lohan's leggings obsession as one of the most annoying things occurring in nature. Sure, it's slightly immature - why should I care if two sketchy people find happiness in out-obnoxious-ing each other? I should just get over it. And I totally am. Sort of.

But that's actually not what I want your opinion on, fair reader. It does, however, allow for easy segue into the topic I reference in the title of this post. A squid. Now, I didn't develop the name "squid" - that was how a very wise journalist described this phenomena in a recently article.

A squid is a person who too quickly gloms on to your friends, attempting to forge his or her own relationships, cutting you out of the equation. For example, a friend of mine was scheduled to have drinks with a work-girlfriend and, at the last minute, invited a third woman to join them. The next day the third woman (the squid) emailed the work-girlfriend to set up another round of cocktails, this time excluding my gal pal who made the introduction to begin with.

Now it's one thing when you've spent enough time with a person to have developed your own rapport and an actual relationship. But the squid operates differently. The squid is the psychological equivalent of licking every Oreo in the pack to claim them all for yourself. (heartless bastard, that just ain't right...see what I mean?!?)

So tell me friends. Should we add Rule #4: No squidding of your friend's friends to the list? Or are WE the ones licking the Oreos, and selfishly trying to hoard all our friends for our own evil purposes? (And you know what? If that's wrong, I don't wanna be right.)