Gemology

whenever i watch this clip, i'm oddly fascinated and struck with awe....



an excerpt:

"with shoulderpads i have the strength to destroy villages, homes, and crops."

I first saw this when a friend of mine in Brno told me of her hometown in Michigan where Leslie Hall performed from time to time with her back up dancers simply called "team popular." she related with awe how this woman could sell out a stadium full of seats and make a living off of singing about her penchant for collecting gem sweaters. after watching this video, we went to get some fried cheese and have a good think over the merits of rhinestones. i now pass on this gift to you!

Paperback Writer

Over caffeine and an open, blank word document where my research paper was supposed to be appearing, I discussed with Dez the plans for my bright future and came up with one of my better ideas for a vocation: Romance Novel Writer. It all seems pretty simple- rugged, good lookin’ man slightly haunted by his past and/or conveniently dead wife meets a woman suffering from recent heartbreak and/or amnesia. The two converse briefly when they haphazardly meet (as if by fate) when he rescues her from the forest where she’s been stumbling around being amnesiatic (naturally, he found her when he was out doing rugged, manly activities). Of course, somewhere along the way she will have gotten doused in water, and so she’ll have to change into the only article of clothing that the manly lumberjack still has lying around from his dead wife- a racy yet moth-eaten teddy! Oh, all this equals romance.

I don’t see too much of a problem with this as writing comes somewhat easily to me (I mean, c’mon, just look at this sweet blog. Do I even have to say it?), though I could see where this would be a flooded market that would be hard to break into. This isn’t a conclusion drawn through careful research of course, but by my memory of the rows upn rows of romance novels lining the walls of half price books, going at about a nickel a novel. So what I need to do is a) come up with a clever pseudonym and b) get a really racy cover and title. The story itself is secondary to these things- especially the cover art. What would the tale of the manly lumberjack and amnesiac’s love be without a picture to flip to on the front- can’t you just see the lonely housewife turning to the cover and sighing as she sees all the canoodlin’ fun those two are having? And the name is important as well- I doubt Danielle Steele would be as popular with a name like Claudette Applebottom. So I’m thinking of playing on that feminine name coupled with a more masculine, hard word. Like Cynthia Craftsmen…or Sofia Socketwrench. Something like that. Suggestions are welcome!

The only tough thing about the job is that I may have to do a little research and actually read one of the damn things…if not for writing tips, than euphemisms for male and female doo-dads. Like, I know you can say “manhood” or “throbbing member,” maybe even “opening flower” or “cornshoot”… but what about when you need to refer to ovaries or prostates? “Her shivering almonds trembled at the prospect of finally having one of their sweet, yet unappreciated, eggs fertilized. Could he be the one? The baby daddy that the uterus had so often whispered about?” Hawt. Nothing hotter.

The Adventures of SuperLiz

She's well known for her laser eyes and power of flight, but her penchant for partying and ability to conjure beer at a moment's notice is a little known fact.



after delivering a baby and solving three crimes with the help of her plucky cape and sharp wit, SuperLiz attended the pirates vs. ninjas party.



the above characters were present...ninjas, pirates, space pirates, corporate pirates, and a british seaman tossed in. ah yes, and a bumble bee. just because.



also attending was a woman with a minnesota accent who held on to her thermos with zeal...the partygoers somehow doubted that the thermos contained coffee.



shenanigans ensued, including the corporate insurance pirate attempting the vulcan death grip upon the hapless minnesotan.



SuperLiz got her mac on with recently deceased steve irwin, and with the aid of her x-ray vision decided he was a more than adequate boy to pursue.



but shock! conflict! a ninja welding beer and malice threatened dear ol' steve!



SuperLiz quickly vanquished the foe, and even he had to admit it was a pretty kick-ass display of hissiing and biting.







Ah yes, and for old times sake...



TO DETENTE!

chceš kolače?

i have a mind given to superstitions and ocd tendencies, so the task of baking the perfect kolache was somewhat daunting to me- but i figured it would be a fun experiment. i carefully measured everything out, pondered the magic of yeast, and wondered if there was some czech folk dance i was supposed to perform while waiting for my dough to rise. but despite my lack of clogs and coordination, it rose and produced thirty something little rolls of joy, which i quickly filled with strawberry goodness. i grimaced at the suggestion of one of the recipes to use hog lard rather than shortening and opted to go with my animal friendly alternative- because really, when am i going to find the time to sharpen a stick and hunt down a hog in the woods adjoining my apartment complex? seriously- i have better things to do.

after a bit of witchcraft and wizardry, i got my result. steph stormed the apartment, being led by her nose from the parking lot. i should've known better than to leave the window open- she's always out there, lurking of the hopes of stealing my pic-a-nic basket. then charlie came by to pick up a few. i would say very good for the first try. at last, i have found my true calling- czech cookery! now who wants gulash?!





Steph, Charlie, and Speed Racer say these kolache rock hard.

The Beast and Dragon Adored

Despite the feeling that i've been "slacking off" in my classes (i use this term loosely because, no matter what i do, i always feel like i'm slacking off- i think the only way to alleviate this would be to sit at home day and night crying into course packets and sniffing highlighters. and even then i'm not sure it would work.), i received some good news today, letting me know that my methods are indeed solid, and at that, desirable! First i got back my poetry paper, which smelled slightly of mothballs and gin, but nevertheless bore an A, a plethora of check marks, and multiple encouraging words. let me brag for just a minute because i never thought one of my papers would bear the folowing words: "superbly rich, insightful explication, written with clarity, verve, and imagination!" well, it might just be the gin talking, professor, but thanks!

next was czech modern literature. as he prefaced handing out papers with, "rewrites are due on halloween," i was a bit worried. but no, my fond readers! i received a page attached with a cartoon about porcupines, a compliment on the title which employed profuse alliteration, and a nice, round 95.

so enough gloating, as surely it will bring bad luck upon me. of course, for these two papers, i kind of neglected studying for my human sexuality test. but i still recieved a high B, which is good enough for the first test- especially as what i tripped up on was the anatomy and physiology, which is never easy. ironically enough, the most confusing section for me was over my own lady parts. but the course has no cumulative final and i can always study that for my own benefit later. so many variables and processes to learn...



"the raygin gland, located and exerting pressure on the uterus and fallopian tubes from time to time, serves to excrete wacky hormones into the female's system. these hormones' effect have a varied range on different women; a typical female can be afflicted with anything from a bit of moodiness to a one-way trip to crazyville. during this time, the female is best placated with flattery and chocolate. note that the male's distance to safety ratio in relation to the female is strongly connected."

you don't win friends with salad

some people have that guy at work, others have that baby with the unibrow; but the enemy that i confront everyday is humidity. and everyday i check weather.com with some foolish hopes that the air will be carrying less than 50% of it's sticky, hot, hair-frizzing/curling ways...but everytime, it's well over 50, and it's rather depressing. "should i bother to do my hair?" i wonder. and i picture my laptop sighing, "just...just don't bother."

despite the depressing amount of humidity and foreboding dark clouds, i did accomplish something today. i finally procured something known as "roughage." you see, it's this colorful stuff, mostly green, that you can't find in a morningstar corn dog or at the bottom of a bag of doritos. apparently it's very good for you, and keeps you "regular"- whatever that means...but i went to the grocery store in hopes of finding such items, and was pleasantly surprised. i also invested in a economy size box of chip's ahoy. the dancing carrot (pictured above) assured me that they're high in fiber. then again, he could be a hallucination brought on by the various processed foods i've eaten over the years, including frosty-o's, the wacky breakfast cereal that keeps you shaking with joy and sugar all day!

ah, yes, and if by any chance you haven't already seen it, click this--> Myspace the Movie.

let's do this like a prison break

Last night was the Yeah Yeah Yeahs- as you can imagine an energetic show that has left me hoarse and sore from moshing. everyone left with one of two thoughts- 1) i want to grow up to be Karen O or 2) i want to have karen o's babies...and maybe you can do both.

one small rant- if you don't like moshing, get out of the front. if you're going to stand around and be emo, i'm going to crash into you all the harder- i don't care how hard you looked for your urban outfitter's bargain bin find, or that your carefully constructed hipster haircut is getting ruffled. i especially hate it when the boyfriends do the protective arm-cage around their distraught, fragile hipster. again, if you want to stand around and frown, go home and listen to your expensive hi-fi, or get towards the back, because i'm there to jump around. don't let my converse shoes fool you- i'm a rocker, and i rock out.

then to kerby lane for an abominable amount of queso and chips with the usual crowd. after that, a shower-- the sign of a good show is when you're not sure if the sweat you're covered with is your's or a stranger's-- and then the dive into bed. yay saturday night. boo the morning after, composed of papers and laundry. but at least i've grabbed hold of a thesis and am running with it. ;] oh yeah, and clean clothes are nice, too.

Pinball Wizard

"and don't think that we're not going to go through the vagina!"

that's an outburst from my human sexuality professor, the king of rants. today was, "why do you think you need alcohol to have a good time?" though everyone offered reasonable explanations, he quickly dismissed them and stopped in front of a hapless girl. "now write this down- 'people are scared of other people.'" and while that makes good sense and all, it took him a long time to make that point- taking up over half of class. thus the outburst above. today was vagina day. huzzah! nothing really new to learn there, other than the fact that sperm can hang out in the fallopian tubes for about 4-5 days- the reason that a woman can get preggers if she's had intercourse before or after ovulation. sneaky bastards.

anyhow, enough of that. how about a picture of something cute?

The Many Faces of Kirbles-- hopefully a reoccuring feature as she has such an expressive face!!







maybe i'll MS paint some fangs in there to make things a bit more interesting....

now to write a paper!

Ruby Tuesday

as everybody probably already knows, i haven't had tv for about a year and a half, so i'm not one of the priveleged masses who get to watch such things as Entertainment Tonight and other such infotainment. but every now and then i'll come up with some obscure fact about the latest celebrity love triangle/baby/cocaine scandal, and i wonder how the dramatic lives of pretty, empty-headed celebrities have leaked into my oh so drab life full of late nights with course packets and microwavable delicacies. but today, while waiting in line at HEB, i was reminded of where my quality celebrity gossip comes from- the tabloids. Here i can find all the information i need to know about the world; apparently "TomKat" are on the prowl, experts want to dig up steve irwin's dead body, oprah and stedman are on the rocks, and jennifer aniston is done slummin' it with vince vaughn and has her eye on matthew mcconaughey. oh, and "love changed" christina aguilera from a greased up streetwalker to a slightly less greasy gal that wears adequately sized clothing.

it made me want a career in tabloids. it would be pretty simple- splash a few incriminating photos of the chosen celebrity that makes them fit your headline, write a paragraph or two that most likely end in phrases such as, "Did scientology brainwash katy holmes into wearing that tacky outfit?!" or "Does Paris in fact have the herps? all signs point to yes!" and then i could make money. what's a soul when you can stuff your mattress full of hundreds and jump around on it, cackling like mad?

i'd probably just as easily see my soul slide right out if i went into radio sales... i'm sure there's some guidelines on this, so i'll get back to you on that one.