Burning Question 4/30/07

Why's that guy's name Puss-Feller in Dr. No? How...how'd he get that name?

Burning Question 4/30/07

Every Day Is Ninja Terminator Day

It's a shame Ninja Terminator was only a movie and not a TV series. I would have watched every episode. I probably would have taped them, too.

Watch the Ninja Terminator as he gets messed up messages from phones which are unplugged, prepares drunken crab, or the exciting conclusion. Then relive it all over again with the trailer!









I first saw these on Monkeys For Helping, one of my lifelines.

Every Day Is Ninja Terminator Day

Three is Twice as Ineffective as One.

I feel like I'm repeating myself when I say I don't sleep. I've blogged about it before, in many places, and there really is nothing to be found in blogging about sleep problems other than a record that the sleep problem did in fact occur, and it was such a slow news day that it seemed an interesting topic at the time.

I can't honestly call it a slow news day, I know, there's a lot going on in the world. But I don't care about that, because I don't sleep.

People who helpfully offer quick fixes for my insomnia do not have my kind of industrial-strength ability to just not sleep for months at a time, so telling me to go for a walk will result in me asking if insomnia means that one night where the garbage collection was too noisy, and depending on how long it's been since I slept, I may throw in a few words that aren't cleared for public broadcasting. Because I understand I could end up in prison, I will not use violence. Still, I'm just gonna stop you here and say it won't help. Whatever it is, I've done it, it won't help.

Benadryl, the current antihistamine of the world, contains the same ingredient as mild sleeping pills. People take Benadryl when they can't sleep, or give it to their children for the same reason. Last night I took a lot of Benadryl. I laid there in sleep stage 1 for two hours, and then I noticed I was itchy.

Those two hours were not enough, Benadryl alone is not enough to bring peace. The experiment was a failure.

Next week: Testing the air-speed velocity of an unladen rake, when used in bee-herding.

Three is Twice as Ineffective as One.

Reality Check

I watch American Idol and Dancing With The Stars. I've watched Idol since Clay Aiken sang Grease on Bee Gees week, and on a good day I can tell you who was on the past two seasons of Dancing.

Do I consider myself the target audience for these shows? Hell no. Sara Evans dancing the Pasa Doble to Phantom of the Opera damn near killed me, but I grew stronger, and of course Scissor Sisters were a guest last year and that helped.

This season, Joey Fatone danced a tango to Meco's Star Wars theme, and it wasn't bad, and dammit, I'm man enough to admit that. I very nearly regret seeking out Christopher Cross to destroy //\//*Sync five years ago. Fatone's a fan. He wore a padawan braid. He knows what a padawan braid is and isn't ashamed to admit it, and he didn't let a little thing like the sound of millions of fanboys crying out in terror at the idea of him taking part in the biggest movie series ever put him off that fandom, and that's the way to live.

I'll pretend watching television shows is why I haven’t posted much lately. Really. Nothing at all to do with my body taking extended breaks to go find itself and my brain getting that second job as a whirligig. Tonight’s two-hour American Idol promises to be extra scary fun, so don’t expect me to recover until next Monday.

Reality Check

Cash In The Trash

Who the hell came up with the term Cash in the Trash? I've seen two equally irritating commercials on TV that brag that before these products, everyone was doing things that amounted to cash in the trash. (I feel like there should be a chord or two of horror music there).

Billy Mays screams that his super towels prevent cash in the trash in the form of cleaning up things people waste paper towels on, like apparently dog vomit (I swear, watch the commercial next time it's on), but the first place I noticed it said was in a commercial for some kind of can topper that turns soda cans into color-coded bottles with cups that double as coasters, and lets parents give old, flat, spit in soda to their kids again and again without having to open a new can.

Yeah, you heard me, its not bad enough kids have to get hooked on soda in the first place, now if they're gonna drink that crap, they're gonna drink all of it.

I don't know about you, but in my paternal grandfather's days, the crap he'd bring home would furnish his house...well, I think it did, I don't really know much about him except that he was dressed up in women's clothes in a photo and he could talk but just didn't, so until Nan started talking to him one time and he answered, no one really knew he spoke.

But my point is that ratty old paper towels and half-drunk soda doesn't strike me as cash in the trash so much as an environmental disaster. Plus, ad dudes, why are you throwing the soda in the garbage? Cans go into the recycling, dumbasses. NOW where are you putting that cash? Or, like we have to, take the tinny bastards back to the store, and MAKE MONEY off them. Cash? My trash? Hell no. I want my five bucks and not your spitty old soda, so step off mah can.

I can only imagine the next products "Cash in the Trash" will be used for. Super absorbent lady products? Oh, I wanna see Billy Mays hawk that.

The author would like to note that she has used paper towels and drinks exactly one can of soda a day--two on the weekend--and is a firm believer in the magic that is Orange Glo...just not for cars. Never for cars.

Cash In The Trash

My Childhood in a Nutshell

Pink Floyd's The Wall and an Evel Knievel bike. Those were the days. Except for falling down the stairs in slo-mo. That used to suck.

My Childhood in a Nutshell

The Real Downside Of Downloading.

You kids with your iPods are missing the glory that is album art. Why, twenty years back, a huge source of entertainment was looking at album covers and making up crazy stuff, even if the album had nothing really weird about it. I didn't have the Internet then, but now I'm happy to see that album covers truly worthy of jest have a place in the hearts of many.

Bad Album Art is a LiveJournal I hope continues forever, because this is the kind of weird that keeps me alive.

I will admit that as of this writing, I have exactly one of the featured albums. *cough*Shotgun Willie.*cough*

The Real Downside Of Downloading.

American Idol no longer interests me (for the fourth time).

Every year, someone on American Idol breaks my damn heart, and this year was no different.

I'll miss you Sanjaya. You were cool. Can't wait for the album.

(No, I'm not kidding. There aren't many ordinary seventeen-year-olds--hell, people of any age--that could go on national TV every week and get the criticism that kid got, and keep going and not get bitchy about it like some other contestants on the show who I will not name at the moment because they were having a really hard week and all and that would be low of me.

Anyway, I think if you're going to pretend to be any of the guys who were making news the past few days, you could do much worse than being like Sanjaya Malakar. That kid had fun, and he made some people happy. That's the meaning of life right there, people.)

American Idol no longer interests me (for the fourth time).

Excessive is Hardly the Word For It

My house was not advertised as having a shower in the kitchen or a swimming pool in the basement. Not many people enjoy brown water in their hair. Electric deer do not swim well inside their off-season boxes.

To focus on the positive, the lawn is flourishing. Just don't walk on it, you'll sink.

Excessive is Hardly the Word For It

If He's A Demon, What Are His Parents?

John Goodman is going to be Pops Racer in the 2008 Wachowskis big-screen adaptation of Speed Racer. His wife, Mrs. Racer, is going to be played by Susan Sarandon.

I can deal with this, I guess. I mean, slap a moustache and a hat on Goodman, it could work, as long as it doesn't turn into The Flintstones, Part 3.

The surprising news today was that Christina Ricci has been cast as Trixie. I'm kinda happy about that. Trixie's my girl, you know. Wednesday Addams was pretty neat...the two combined could very well be incredible.

I don't know Emile Hirsch, the guy playing my first BF Speed Racer, but I rather like him from the video on YouTube. He may need false eyelashes, but maybe they're not going that way.

YouTube also has an interview with Christina Ricci, and because I'm bringing you exclusive coverage of this movie straight from my brain, I'm including them here. The first two aren't funny wacky weekend videos, but they're short and give me hope for the movie. They also correct the way I've been saying Wachowski for the past eight years.

If it's wacky you want, the third video shows what would happen if Dustin Hoffman was cast as Racer X. I damn near lost my mind at 1:13.

If He's A Demon, What Are His Parents?

The Most Interesting Things I Got Right Now.

I woke up this morning and my voice was missing. It happens all the time, it's detachab--no, that's something else. I lost my voice. It'll turn up, but that's not the fascinating part.

My cats' voices are unaffected by the loss of my voice. I'm not talking about the delightful notes of musical joy that come out of them when they want to go outside, or come in, or have a bird notice them, or just shoot the breeze with us, I'm talking about the voice that says stuff like, "Hey you, you got a crunchy for me, okay?" or, "LAWSUIT!"

My Puppy also lost her voice, so I'm beginning to think the cats have in fact managed to possess me when they want to ask a question like, "How much fish you give?"

That's a very important question, you know, and one I think everyone should ask themselves at least once a day, even if they have no audible voice.

That's not to say my voice isn't audible, because I had to freak out earlier over the potential billing of an Internet security feature I never signed up for, and I assure you, I was able to squeeze a sound so horrid out of my right tonsil that not only was I not billed, but my Sailor Moon magnet fell off the wall.

I keep my magnets stuck to the walls, you know, because they're too heavy to stay on the fridge. Apparently, they're also too heavy to stay stuck on the wall.

In order to bring this post around to the beginning again, I will state that I need to eat things as heavy as my Sailor Moon magnet, so my acid stays down, and I can get back to speaking like Charlie Brown's teacher instead of like that guy in Mickey Blue Eyes. You know the guy. You should know the guy. No, not Hugh Grant.

The Most Interesting Things I Got Right Now.

Kurt Vonnegut

Read some of his words. Read some of his books. Appreciate being alive at least a little bit. I know I have.

Kurt Vonnegut

Happy Easter!

Happy Easter!

How to properly travel with little ones.

First, use drugs. Uppers for the driver, downers for the passengers.

Second, all passengers must be securely strapped into the vehicle.

Third, use of a mixtape is encouraged.

Fourth, dress accordingly.

Fifth, document the event.

(This is no exaggeration.)

It is also a good idea to ensure that what you are leaving the house for actually will be at your destination. For instance, if the trip involves vaccinations, call ahead to see if there are enough virulent vials in stock. We've made this error once; it will not happen again.

A side note to all animal care facilities: when the appointments for the day mention vaccinations and you have run out, call. It helps. As nice as your staff may be, we don't go there merely to socialize.

Oh, and in case you guys all rely solely on me for up-to-the-minute news, avoid pet food with wheat gluten. Also, Italy won the World Cup, someone you know may be a Cylon, there's a chance of rain tonight with temperatures in the mid-40s, and alternate side of the street parking is in effect. Next time, find out which big-time rapper was seen out on the town with a Hollywood hottie!

How to properly travel with little ones.