I learned so much about Bea Arthur when I read her obit in the NYTimes on Sunday. I didn't know she died until then. I was in DC over the weekend and missed any important news until I picked up a copy of the paper Sunday evening in the airport. (PSA - buy papers!) I was surprised - not about her death although that was sad but about all the interesting facts within. Did you know that Bea didn't own up to any one age? No one really knows how old she is. I might start adopting that philosophy. The NYTimes said she was probably around 86 though.
I've seen a ton of stuff about her on the internet, some of which I'll post links to. But I think my favorite Bea Arthur moment, aside from her Golden Girls years (did you know I'm always a Dorothy in GG quizzes?), is the time she helped roast Pamela Anderson and read aloud from Pam's book about the joys/intriques of anal sex. It's pretty much the funniest thing I've ever heard involving Pam Anderson, which really says a lot.
My list of web-related/tv-related Bea activities and my own, personal favorite Bea moments:
1. WE is planning a 2 night homage to Dorothy Zbornak last night and Thursday night. If you missed last night, check it out (or DVR it) on Thursday.
2. USA Today did a thing about her. And the LATimes did a fairly decent obit as well.
3. Maude had an abortion. Did you know? She was in her 40s, married, and decided she was too old to have a baby. So she did it. Pretty shocking by today's tv standards. Of course Maude was a spin-off of All in the Family, so what can you expect? (See the Jezebel piece for the video on it.)
4. This is the fabulous NYTimes obit I read about her (along with a picture slideshow). It's really good.
5. Jezebel has a top 5 Bea Arthur moment piece that includes two of my favorites (the Pam Anderson bit and a song and dance bit from early on, which admittedly I only saw for the first time in the last couple of years).
6. Bea singing in a Star Wars Holiday special. Ha! Freaking hilarious.
7. And finally one of my favorite, non-zinger Dorothy moments on Golden Girls:
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Flowers are blooming it seems...
I am a |
"Many people think you are just a little bit odd, but you consider yourself just a little eccentric. You find new experiences exciting and fulfilling."
I don't even know what kind of flower this is. And I'm probably never going to be referred to as a flower by anyone, ever. I'm not exactly fond of things that manage to grow on their own. Plants freak my shit out. I wish I were kidding.
I'd shake his hand...
I, a citizen of Austin, Texas, U.S. of A, would shake Hugo Chavez's hand if he offered it to me. I guess I'm a pinko commie, no? Well it's not the first time I've been called that. Just ask my favorite right-wing, nutjob, Doug.
On a different note, tobacco infused tequila is my new favorite alcohol. Try it. It will blow your mind. (And I hate smokers and smoking, so it's not that kind of thing.)
Friday, April 17, 2009
Speaking of the Dixie Chicks...
I'm incredibly embarassed to be associated with the crap that our Governor Head of Hair is spewing right now. Texas could secede? Is he fucking insane?
I'm quoting a local Austin paper, which generally sucks ass so don't read it but, "According to The Associated Press, Perry suggested in response to a reporter's question that Texans might at some point get so fed up with Democratic-led actions in Washington that they would want to secede."
I did NOT vote for that asshat. I heard him speak at a college graduation last year and I'm certain he was a) drunk, b) unprepared to give a speech, and c) stupid. I canNOT believe anyone would bother to quote anything he has to say.
Geez. What a loser. Oh and I heard he really enjoys the teabagging. *snicker*
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Apparently my mother is way cooler than me...
She's going on a cruise of castles in Amsterdam and Germany. Or some such ridiculousness. And although I abhor cruises, I'm so jealous I can't see straight. I had to help her with cocktail attire (for the dinners), for god's sake! Plus she's already been to Amsterdam once. Isn't that enough? (An aside: I was scarred beyond recognition from that first trip to Amsterdam. Imagine your mother standing next to a 12 foot tall penis at the sex musuem and you'll only begin to imagine what I'm talking about.)
Karmically speaking, I realize she's suffered by marrying a baseball-loving, cigar smoker, but come on! And I realize her first son must be a huge disappointment due to his college football, political, and religious affiliations, but really she should have just nipped all that shit in the bud early on, right?
Okay fine. I'm not saying she doesn't deserve to go. I'm just saying I deserve it too. And possibly more than her, because.... well, because I say so.
Jealousy does not bring out my best colors.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
I hate...
Slow internet. When I'm trying to read about American Idol on TWOP, I do NOT like having to wait for a page to load. It's a recap of a stupid reality show. It should not take more than 5 seconds for me to be done with their shit.
I'd also like some chocolate as soon as possible. The two are not related.
Friday, April 03, 2009
And then something happened...
I've been worrying for a few days that nothing exciting or post-worthy has been happening to me. Although most things I write about aren't exactly happening to me, they're things I care enough to form an opinion about, which, come to think of it, is not really saying much. But as soon as I decided I was washed up and work was sucking the life out of me (and it is), something slightly entertaining and slightly destructive happened.
Two factors combined yesterday to bring me to this time time and place. 1) My pilates instructor talked about a cool movie room at the gym she goes to a few miles north of me. She said they play the same movie all day long, over and over, and it makes the minutes fly by. My interest was piqued (I had to look that word up to make sure it wasn't really peaked). 2) My coworker/friend got in a car accident yesterday and due to recent hail storms, had to have a ride to a car rental place that was convienently a few miles north of me. So of course I decide to try out this crazy movie room gym thing I'd heard about. (Maybe other gyms have cardio cinemas and these aren't actually weird and new but to me? Insanity.)
I drug my coworker/friend to the gym with me - she kinda had to since I was giving her a ride and all - and we walked into the gym and stood outside the "cardio cinema." The sign next to the door said 7 Pounds was playing. I've been wanting to see at least a little of that movie, because the boy says it's really interesting (although I don't trust his movie judgment at. all.). We went in and were immediately consumed by darkness. It was really dark! I thought I would trip over people and/or equipment, so I stood like an idiot for a few minutes trying to figure out exactly what the set up was in the room. We found two treadmills together in the front and hopped on. It took a little less than 2 minutes before I realized there was a reason the treadmills at the front of the room (next to the giant, movie-sized screen) were empty. I nearly fell twice (or so I thought nearly fell, but I'll get to what nearly falling looks like in a minute) trying to look at the screen and run in a straight line, which I've decided is basically impossible.
We moved to treadmills in the middle of the room after a couple of minutes. Actually the coworker/friend left the entire cardio cinema after she ran a few minutes because she couldn't handle the intensity of the big screen, the dark room, and the blinking red lights of the machines, which were pretty much the only indicators of any kind of depth perception. Oh yeah! (in my best Peggy Hill)
I, on the other hand, really enjoyed the treadmill and the dark room. I vowed not to look at my time until the current scene was over. Turns out the scene I was watching was never over. 7 Pounds is a looong and boring movie. Good thing I caught the end. I had a sweater draped over the front of the treadmill, so a) I could cover my time with it (it's a mental thing) and b) it wouldn't sit on the dirty floor because I care about my sweater, you see? About 10 minutes into running, my sweater fell of the treadmill and traversed the length of the treadmill onto the ground behind me. I looked back to watch it land and turned back to running. I figured it would stay there and I would pick it up once I was done. A couple of seconds later the belt on the treadmills lurched and practically stopped. You know that almost falling I talked about earlier? That was nothing. This almost falling was much more palpable. Although I didn't technically bust it, I did flail supremely well and I yelled/screamed so loud that I drew the entire (full) room's attention away from a Will Smith sex scene to me.
The treadmill then went on its merry way, only at a slightly slower pace. I stupidly thought it was a really sensitive machine and it must have felt my sweater fall on it and fall off on the ground. I tried, repeatedly, to up the speed back to a workable pace and when that failed, I looked back to see if my sweater was somehow the culprit. Of course it was gone from behind the treadmill. I sighed, stopped my machine, and knelt down like a fool at the foot of the treadmill. Of course my sweater had somehow got stuck up in the rolling belt. Of course it got so stuck that I couldn't pull it out. I did hear some ripping when I tried though. One good thing about the darkness of the cardio cinema? No one can tell the exact idiot you're making of yourself. They have some sense of it but not an entire grasp of it.
I went to the front and asked for help. A really hot, gym guy came to help me and declared my sweater stuck. You don't say? He went for help from another really hot, gym guy ("the muscle" according to the first hot, gym guy), and they proceeded to laugh at me, stare in wonder at the predicament, laugh some more, and then use absurdly stupid boy logic to get the sweater out (i.e. pulling). The first guy told me, apologetically, that the sweater probably would not come out in the same condition it when in. As I'd already accepted that portion of future events, as any relatively cognizant person would, I told him not to worry about it. Between the two of them and many grunts they finally managed to pull the pretty, pink sweater from underneath the treadmill belt. The first hot guy fell backwards into an elliptical machine and almost made that person fall off, which sort of made the whole experience worth it for me (seeing one of those hot gym guys look like an uncoordinated ass at the gym? priceless), and held up a tattered, holey, ripped pink sweater that somewhat resembled the one I'd been wearing earlier. The second guy handed me a button he'd managed to retrieve - real funny - and they ambled off, still laughing.
And all I could think as I attempted to re-find my running groove (never happened) was that finally I had something to write about.
I also realize that if I wrote more often, I could have condensed that into a much funnier, briefer post but since I haven't written in a week, I figured blogspot could handle it.
Two factors combined yesterday to bring me to this time time and place. 1) My pilates instructor talked about a cool movie room at the gym she goes to a few miles north of me. She said they play the same movie all day long, over and over, and it makes the minutes fly by. My interest was piqued (I had to look that word up to make sure it wasn't really peaked). 2) My coworker/friend got in a car accident yesterday and due to recent hail storms, had to have a ride to a car rental place that was convienently a few miles north of me. So of course I decide to try out this crazy movie room gym thing I'd heard about. (Maybe other gyms have cardio cinemas and these aren't actually weird and new but to me? Insanity.)
I drug my coworker/friend to the gym with me - she kinda had to since I was giving her a ride and all - and we walked into the gym and stood outside the "cardio cinema." The sign next to the door said 7 Pounds was playing. I've been wanting to see at least a little of that movie, because the boy says it's really interesting (although I don't trust his movie judgment at. all.). We went in and were immediately consumed by darkness. It was really dark! I thought I would trip over people and/or equipment, so I stood like an idiot for a few minutes trying to figure out exactly what the set up was in the room. We found two treadmills together in the front and hopped on. It took a little less than 2 minutes before I realized there was a reason the treadmills at the front of the room (next to the giant, movie-sized screen) were empty. I nearly fell twice (or so I thought nearly fell, but I'll get to what nearly falling looks like in a minute) trying to look at the screen and run in a straight line, which I've decided is basically impossible.
We moved to treadmills in the middle of the room after a couple of minutes. Actually the coworker/friend left the entire cardio cinema after she ran a few minutes because she couldn't handle the intensity of the big screen, the dark room, and the blinking red lights of the machines, which were pretty much the only indicators of any kind of depth perception. Oh yeah! (in my best Peggy Hill)
I, on the other hand, really enjoyed the treadmill and the dark room. I vowed not to look at my time until the current scene was over. Turns out the scene I was watching was never over. 7 Pounds is a looong and boring movie. Good thing I caught the end. I had a sweater draped over the front of the treadmill, so a) I could cover my time with it (it's a mental thing) and b) it wouldn't sit on the dirty floor because I care about my sweater, you see? About 10 minutes into running, my sweater fell of the treadmill and traversed the length of the treadmill onto the ground behind me. I looked back to watch it land and turned back to running. I figured it would stay there and I would pick it up once I was done. A couple of seconds later the belt on the treadmills lurched and practically stopped. You know that almost falling I talked about earlier? That was nothing. This almost falling was much more palpable. Although I didn't technically bust it, I did flail supremely well and I yelled/screamed so loud that I drew the entire (full) room's attention away from a Will Smith sex scene to me.
The treadmill then went on its merry way, only at a slightly slower pace. I stupidly thought it was a really sensitive machine and it must have felt my sweater fall on it and fall off on the ground. I tried, repeatedly, to up the speed back to a workable pace and when that failed, I looked back to see if my sweater was somehow the culprit. Of course it was gone from behind the treadmill. I sighed, stopped my machine, and knelt down like a fool at the foot of the treadmill. Of course my sweater had somehow got stuck up in the rolling belt. Of course it got so stuck that I couldn't pull it out. I did hear some ripping when I tried though. One good thing about the darkness of the cardio cinema? No one can tell the exact idiot you're making of yourself. They have some sense of it but not an entire grasp of it.
I went to the front and asked for help. A really hot, gym guy came to help me and declared my sweater stuck. You don't say? He went for help from another really hot, gym guy ("the muscle" according to the first hot, gym guy), and they proceeded to laugh at me, stare in wonder at the predicament, laugh some more, and then use absurdly stupid boy logic to get the sweater out (i.e. pulling). The first guy told me, apologetically, that the sweater probably would not come out in the same condition it when in. As I'd already accepted that portion of future events, as any relatively cognizant person would, I told him not to worry about it. Between the two of them and many grunts they finally managed to pull the pretty, pink sweater from underneath the treadmill belt. The first hot guy fell backwards into an elliptical machine and almost made that person fall off, which sort of made the whole experience worth it for me (seeing one of those hot gym guys look like an uncoordinated ass at the gym? priceless), and held up a tattered, holey, ripped pink sweater that somewhat resembled the one I'd been wearing earlier. The second guy handed me a button he'd managed to retrieve - real funny - and they ambled off, still laughing.
And all I could think as I attempted to re-find my running groove (never happened) was that finally I had something to write about.
I also realize that if I wrote more often, I could have condensed that into a much funnier, briefer post but since I haven't written in a week, I figured blogspot could handle it.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
In honor of Rana...
I've decided to discuss my last few days, which have been... oddly satisfying and disconcerting, all in one.
Thursday - work until I feel the need to go to bed for the night. A) that's late and B) that's too late to be working. I had to skip a lovely outing I'd looked forward to all week because of all the work. Boo to work.
Friday - get up much earlier than usual and go back to work. Work until I feel the need to eat dinner. The bf beats me to my house for our usual weekend ritual of yummy Indian food. (This is a huge shocker, because he's almost always the one with the later time schedule, forcing me to wait on his sorry ass.) After a lovely glass of wine and like two bites of dinner (not hungry after all the work, I guess?), we head over to the Chandi's and drink more wine. It was lovely until one part of the Chandi decided to go to bed early to be up for her early morning run (hmph - marathoners are really, really annoying). Sorry B but it's true!
Saturday - um... was there a Saturday? I have no memory of it.
Sunday - drove over to SJM's old house for the last time *sigh* and managed to steal the female half of the duo for a lovely trip to Target. As payback, I helped unpack at the new house and realized that there is such a thing as too much vinegar.
Monday - Worked so frantically I forgot to eat food. If you know me at all, you know that is incredibly unlikely. Got out THE WORK PRODUCT of the century about 4:45 Monday afternoon. Had wishes and needs crushed by big boss soon thereafter. Still proud of THE WORK PRODUCT of the century though.
Tuesday - Got to work absurdly early to attend hearing related to THE WORK PRODUCT of the century. Hearing supposed to be done by lunch, ends up going until 4 where, wishes and needs reinvigorated when THE WORK PRODUCT of the century gets mentioned and although I couldn't see the other side, I'm fairly certain heads snapped and eyes agogged. Oh and the hearing went exactly the way our side wanted it to. Bad guys defeated! Went back to work and stayed long enough to hear that THE WORK PRODUCT of the century is officially THE WORK PRODUCT of the century. It's not just in my head. And the guy in our other office who doesn't even know your name if you don't have cocknballs? Yeah, he called THE WORK PRODUCT of the century aggressive. In a good way. While it was cool, it was weird, because what do I care what he thinks? Conundrum. Oh yeah, drank wine and have carpet picnic with the girls. Missed Barack and fell asleep before I could finish hearing what Keith O. thought about it. Sad.
Wednesday (today) - Am confused that it's not Thursday all day. Receive accolades in the form of an ALL CAPS! email, a few phone calls, and a news article that gets it all wrong for THE WORK PRODUCT of the year. Decide to cut the workload considerably post 4 o'clock, hence the current post.
It's been a good few days and oh my god do I need a nap. And quite possibly a trophy.
Thursday - work until I feel the need to go to bed for the night. A) that's late and B) that's too late to be working. I had to skip a lovely outing I'd looked forward to all week because of all the work. Boo to work.
Friday - get up much earlier than usual and go back to work. Work until I feel the need to eat dinner. The bf beats me to my house for our usual weekend ritual of yummy Indian food. (This is a huge shocker, because he's almost always the one with the later time schedule, forcing me to wait on his sorry ass.) After a lovely glass of wine and like two bites of dinner (not hungry after all the work, I guess?), we head over to the Chandi's and drink more wine. It was lovely until one part of the Chandi decided to go to bed early to be up for her early morning run (hmph - marathoners are really, really annoying). Sorry B but it's true!
Saturday - um... was there a Saturday? I have no memory of it.
Sunday - drove over to SJM's old house for the last time *sigh* and managed to steal the female half of the duo for a lovely trip to Target. As payback, I helped unpack at the new house and realized that there is such a thing as too much vinegar.
Monday - Worked so frantically I forgot to eat food. If you know me at all, you know that is incredibly unlikely. Got out THE WORK PRODUCT of the century about 4:45 Monday afternoon. Had wishes and needs crushed by big boss soon thereafter. Still proud of THE WORK PRODUCT of the century though.
Tuesday - Got to work absurdly early to attend hearing related to THE WORK PRODUCT of the century. Hearing supposed to be done by lunch, ends up going until 4 where, wishes and needs reinvigorated when THE WORK PRODUCT of the century gets mentioned and although I couldn't see the other side, I'm fairly certain heads snapped and eyes agogged. Oh and the hearing went exactly the way our side wanted it to. Bad guys defeated! Went back to work and stayed long enough to hear that THE WORK PRODUCT of the century is officially THE WORK PRODUCT of the century. It's not just in my head. And the guy in our other office who doesn't even know your name if you don't have cocknballs? Yeah, he called THE WORK PRODUCT of the century aggressive. In a good way. While it was cool, it was weird, because what do I care what he thinks? Conundrum. Oh yeah, drank wine and have carpet picnic with the girls. Missed Barack and fell asleep before I could finish hearing what Keith O. thought about it. Sad.
Wednesday (today) - Am confused that it's not Thursday all day. Receive accolades in the form of an ALL CAPS! email, a few phone calls, and a news article that gets it all wrong for THE WORK PRODUCT of the year. Decide to cut the workload considerably post 4 o'clock, hence the current post.
It's been a good few days and oh my god do I need a nap. And quite possibly a trophy.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
They say you're Irish...
nah nah nah nah nah nah. Well I'm Irish too. nah nah nah nah nah nah.
Or at least that's what they tell me. So I'm here, wearing green, and I've seriously contemplated the outcomes of pinching strangers in the elevator who are not. (I've decided to avoid the battery and since I'm officially admitting my contemplation, the assault as well.) My family insists the only thing they are, aside from poor, country folk, is Irish. I tend to believe this because of the following:
1. I have blonde hair.
2. I have blue eyes.
3. I'm afraid of snakes (although technically this comes from the non-Irish side but whatev).
4. Almost every man in my family has a Riley or Odais somewhere in their name.
5. I spent the majority of my early childhood lying in the mounds of clovers in my front yard looking for a four-leafed clover. Or is it four leaf clover? I'm unsure.
6. My dad's facial hair comes in red, which is why he only ever grew a beard when he was in Vietnam and shaves regularly since then (or so he says).
7. I'm still fairly certain the tiny footprints I used to see in my old bathroom were those of a leprechaun.
8. I look good in green.
9. Rainbow Brite was my favorite cartoon/book character as a child. (It's a rainbow, pot-at-the-end thing.)
10. I've seen Gone With the Wind at least a dozen times, intermission and all (and if you don't know why this is Irish, shame on you).
11. The only tattoo I've ever wanted to get was a green clover. I'm never going to get that tattoo, so don't worry, but it's the only thing I'd consider putting permanently on my body.
12. The fat in my ass is shaped in large part by potato products. And assorted other white foods.
13. My senior thesis in college was written on the role of mermaids in the folklore (well only folklore to us) of 13th century, Irish popular culture. I like to think of it more as a feminist take on the mean, mean Irish men (or any men of the era), but it's primary focus was Irish folklore. (Small aside: my love of the name Lorelai comes from the mermaid stories I read then not Gilmore Girls, although I'd be perfectly happy to be aptly compared to Lorelai Gilmore.)
14. I like Whiskey. Mainly U.S. whiskey but whiskey nonetheless.
and finally
15. I do not drink green beer.
And in case you can't tell, I have no empirical reason to believe I'm Irish. It's all made up bullshit. BUT. I've always been disappointed by my lack of ethnicity, so I embrace all the green good luck I can wrap my colloquial brain around.
In honor of St. Patrick's day, here's my made up Irish prayer, just for you:
Or at least that's what they tell me. So I'm here, wearing green, and I've seriously contemplated the outcomes of pinching strangers in the elevator who are not. (I've decided to avoid the battery and since I'm officially admitting my contemplation, the assault as well.) My family insists the only thing they are, aside from poor, country folk, is Irish. I tend to believe this because of the following:
1. I have blonde hair.
2. I have blue eyes.
3. I'm afraid of snakes (although technically this comes from the non-Irish side but whatev).
4. Almost every man in my family has a Riley or Odais somewhere in their name.
5. I spent the majority of my early childhood lying in the mounds of clovers in my front yard looking for a four-leafed clover. Or is it four leaf clover? I'm unsure.
6. My dad's facial hair comes in red, which is why he only ever grew a beard when he was in Vietnam and shaves regularly since then (or so he says).
7. I'm still fairly certain the tiny footprints I used to see in my old bathroom were those of a leprechaun.
8. I look good in green.
9. Rainbow Brite was my favorite cartoon/book character as a child. (It's a rainbow, pot-at-the-end thing.)
10. I've seen Gone With the Wind at least a dozen times, intermission and all (and if you don't know why this is Irish, shame on you).
11. The only tattoo I've ever wanted to get was a green clover. I'm never going to get that tattoo, so don't worry, but it's the only thing I'd consider putting permanently on my body.
12. The fat in my ass is shaped in large part by potato products. And assorted other white foods.
13. My senior thesis in college was written on the role of mermaids in the folklore (well only folklore to us) of 13th century, Irish popular culture. I like to think of it more as a feminist take on the mean, mean Irish men (or any men of the era), but it's primary focus was Irish folklore. (Small aside: my love of the name Lorelai comes from the mermaid stories I read then not Gilmore Girls, although I'd be perfectly happy to be aptly compared to Lorelai Gilmore.)
14. I like Whiskey. Mainly U.S. whiskey but whiskey nonetheless.
and finally
15. I do not drink green beer.
And in case you can't tell, I have no empirical reason to believe I'm Irish. It's all made up bullshit. BUT. I've always been disappointed by my lack of ethnicity, so I embrace all the green good luck I can wrap my colloquial brain around.
In honor of St. Patrick's day, here's my made up Irish prayer, just for you:
May your days be spent floating on mounds of green clover;
May you always get to be Rainbow Brite for Halloween;
May your whiskey go down smoothly;
And may your own, personal St. Patrick chase away all the snakes.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Flaming Lips Awesomeness...
Saw this on PopCandy. It might be the coolest thing I've ever seen... this month. I'm seriously crushing on FL right now.
Flaming Lips covering Madonna's Borderline. Could there be anything better in life?
Flaming Lips covering Madonna's Borderline. Could there be anything better in life?
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Skydiving...
Well I did it. I wanted to wait until I had video to post, but I guess that's not happening anytime soon - thanks bf! I'll try to post again once it becomes somehow accessible to me and not on someone's weird, little recording tape that I haven't seen since the 1990s. But apparently it's quality. Whatever.
Turns out the skydiving got canceled and then rescheduled. I got all psyched up for Saturday and then it was too gusty. But Sunday? Perfect day.
Let me set the scene: I finally went to sleep early Sunday morning (after pitching a pitiful fit to the bf about having to get up early the next day and insisting on going to bedorshire). Of course I couldn't sleep because I kept hearing the wind knock against the windows and wondering if the whole thing was going to be called off - yet again. Part of me hoped it would, because I was crazy tired but the better part of me was hoping Texas weather would do me proud. I woke up at 8:30 (see? early!) and called my co-skydiver in crime. She called back shortly and told me we were on. Of course I still had a little time to snooze if I wanted but I was way to excited/antsy.
I went to the living room and found a Golden Girls marathon on the Hallmark Channel (aside: GG moved from Lifetime to Hallmark! Who knew?) and I was pretty certain it was a good omen. After I'd finally coaxed the bf out of the house, we made our way to the launch pad. I insisted on having a bagel before I fell out of a plane and after about 3 stops - bagels are hard to find! - I was officially on my way.
In the car ride there - the place was a good 30-40 minutes away - the bf was amazed AMAZED! at how cool, calm, and collected I was. I told him there was nothing to mentally prepare for, so really what was there to think about at this point? He thought there was definitely a mental preparation aspect to the whole thing, but after discussing with my co-jumper, also a lawyer, we decided it must be our profession that keeps us from getting nervous at attempts at physical endeavors. Put me in a courtroom and I'll be reciting this or that, anticipating arguments, going over easy objections, etc. in my head the entire morning before. But skydiving? Chatter and fun music is all I had to think about.
Blah, blah, blah, 1 orange jumpsuit later and we're up in the plane. I looked like a convict but at least I was visible... I guess. My instructor woman! asked me if I had any questions - as we're climbing up to 10,000 feet of course - and I just wanted to know what happened if she died on my back before she pulled the cord thing. (I swear I'd just seen something on yahoo news or similar about that.) Luckily the chute had a gadget that automatically triggered the parachute if we reached a certain altitude.
As I looked out the window on the way up, I was completely calm. I realized there wasn't one butterfly in my stomach, which was nice because I can't say I feel that way on any normal day, much less a day when I'm about to potentially plummet to my death. We scooted, quite literally, up to the plane door and as we waddled our way forward I had a momentary panic moment (much like I do when I stand on a diving board or when I'm tripping over my shoes at the top of my staircase at home, or ya know, the crack on the sidewalk outside work, whatevs) that I was about to fall. Luckily I didn't have much time for speculation and before I could think to put my hands in front of me to catch myself, I was out. And flying! And all of a sudden realizing I couldn't breathe. Nope, I wasn't flying - I was very quickly suffocating to death. My brain was telling my mouth that of course I could breathe; I was surrounded by air; there was nothing I could do but breathe. But of course my illogical lack of oxygen receiving lungs took over and I panted horribly. Luckily the free fall portion was over relatively quickly. It wasn't a scary experience by any stretch but more of an uncomfortable feeling that passed as soon as the wind stopped hitting me in the face so hard.
And then IT happened. The parachute opened and after the initial lurch and feeling of gravity, I experienced one of the most peaceful, calm, and relaxing few minutes of my entire life. It was pretty remarkable.
I did worry briefly when I saw my friend spiraling crazily downward but apparently that's what we were all doing and it only looked scary from above (so said my tandem jump instructor). There was one weird thing though. As we were getting closer to the ground, my instructor was telling me how to put my feet for landing, etc. I responded "okay" after every instruction she gave. Apparently this caused her some amount of anxiety because she said, "you keep saying 'okay' but are you really okay?" Um, is there some kind of conversation I should be having when I falling toward the earth? Is there a Miss Manners on this subject that I don't know about? What should I have been saying? Not okay? Commenting on last week's episode of Lost? Strange.
We landed on our feet, just like I'd imagine you'd land if you could really fly, about 6 feet away from the guy who unhooked us, so I'm guessing my instructor was pretty accurate. I kept wanting the parachute to collapse all around me so I could come climbing out from underneath it like they do on cartoons but they were too professional for all that.
Things I learned:
1) Wear your hair back and don't let one, single strand get loose. I had quite a few strays and that shit was impossible to brush for hours!
2) Bring your own gloves. I don't know of finger diseases, necessarily, but if there are some, you'd get them sharing general skydiving gloves with all the other scrubby folks who run through that place.
3) Skydiving is the best way ever to have a peaceful day. I had the most relaxing day that I've probably ever had - or at least had in the last few years. I just kept thinking, as I was sitting on the couch reading, "I should really start all my days off like this."
4) If you're an adrenaline junkie, don't skydive. It's not all that adrenaline-enducing. I didn't do it for that purpose, but I was a tad bit surprised I wasn't more hyped up after it was all said and done.
5) Don't talk very much to your instructor. Those fools will do everything in their power to freak your shit out. I didn't encounter it so much with my instructor, but I could see it in others and feel it bubbling just underneath the surface of mine.
6) Always go skydiving (as in go to the location) with someone who won't do it. It really helps with the superiority complex you're bound to have after you're done.
Turns out the skydiving got canceled and then rescheduled. I got all psyched up for Saturday and then it was too gusty. But Sunday? Perfect day.
Let me set the scene: I finally went to sleep early Sunday morning (after pitching a pitiful fit to the bf about having to get up early the next day and insisting on going to bedorshire). Of course I couldn't sleep because I kept hearing the wind knock against the windows and wondering if the whole thing was going to be called off - yet again. Part of me hoped it would, because I was crazy tired but the better part of me was hoping Texas weather would do me proud. I woke up at 8:30 (see? early!) and called my co-skydiver in crime. She called back shortly and told me we were on. Of course I still had a little time to snooze if I wanted but I was way to excited/antsy.
I went to the living room and found a Golden Girls marathon on the Hallmark Channel (aside: GG moved from Lifetime to Hallmark! Who knew?) and I was pretty certain it was a good omen. After I'd finally coaxed the bf out of the house, we made our way to the launch pad. I insisted on having a bagel before I fell out of a plane and after about 3 stops - bagels are hard to find! - I was officially on my way.
In the car ride there - the place was a good 30-40 minutes away - the bf was amazed AMAZED! at how cool, calm, and collected I was. I told him there was nothing to mentally prepare for, so really what was there to think about at this point? He thought there was definitely a mental preparation aspect to the whole thing, but after discussing with my co-jumper, also a lawyer, we decided it must be our profession that keeps us from getting nervous at attempts at physical endeavors. Put me in a courtroom and I'll be reciting this or that, anticipating arguments, going over easy objections, etc. in my head the entire morning before. But skydiving? Chatter and fun music is all I had to think about.
Blah, blah, blah, 1 orange jumpsuit later and we're up in the plane. I looked like a convict but at least I was visible... I guess. My instructor woman! asked me if I had any questions - as we're climbing up to 10,000 feet of course - and I just wanted to know what happened if she died on my back before she pulled the cord thing. (I swear I'd just seen something on yahoo news or similar about that.) Luckily the chute had a gadget that automatically triggered the parachute if we reached a certain altitude.
As I looked out the window on the way up, I was completely calm. I realized there wasn't one butterfly in my stomach, which was nice because I can't say I feel that way on any normal day, much less a day when I'm about to potentially plummet to my death. We scooted, quite literally, up to the plane door and as we waddled our way forward I had a momentary panic moment (much like I do when I stand on a diving board or when I'm tripping over my shoes at the top of my staircase at home, or ya know, the crack on the sidewalk outside work, whatevs) that I was about to fall. Luckily I didn't have much time for speculation and before I could think to put my hands in front of me to catch myself, I was out. And flying! And all of a sudden realizing I couldn't breathe. Nope, I wasn't flying - I was very quickly suffocating to death. My brain was telling my mouth that of course I could breathe; I was surrounded by air; there was nothing I could do but breathe. But of course my illogical lack of oxygen receiving lungs took over and I panted horribly. Luckily the free fall portion was over relatively quickly. It wasn't a scary experience by any stretch but more of an uncomfortable feeling that passed as soon as the wind stopped hitting me in the face so hard.
And then IT happened. The parachute opened and after the initial lurch and feeling of gravity, I experienced one of the most peaceful, calm, and relaxing few minutes of my entire life. It was pretty remarkable.
I did worry briefly when I saw my friend spiraling crazily downward but apparently that's what we were all doing and it only looked scary from above (so said my tandem jump instructor). There was one weird thing though. As we were getting closer to the ground, my instructor was telling me how to put my feet for landing, etc. I responded "okay" after every instruction she gave. Apparently this caused her some amount of anxiety because she said, "you keep saying 'okay' but are you really okay?" Um, is there some kind of conversation I should be having when I falling toward the earth? Is there a Miss Manners on this subject that I don't know about? What should I have been saying? Not okay? Commenting on last week's episode of Lost? Strange.
We landed on our feet, just like I'd imagine you'd land if you could really fly, about 6 feet away from the guy who unhooked us, so I'm guessing my instructor was pretty accurate. I kept wanting the parachute to collapse all around me so I could come climbing out from underneath it like they do on cartoons but they were too professional for all that.
Things I learned:
1) Wear your hair back and don't let one, single strand get loose. I had quite a few strays and that shit was impossible to brush for hours!
2) Bring your own gloves. I don't know of finger diseases, necessarily, but if there are some, you'd get them sharing general skydiving gloves with all the other scrubby folks who run through that place.
3) Skydiving is the best way ever to have a peaceful day. I had the most relaxing day that I've probably ever had - or at least had in the last few years. I just kept thinking, as I was sitting on the couch reading, "I should really start all my days off like this."
4) If you're an adrenaline junkie, don't skydive. It's not all that adrenaline-enducing. I didn't do it for that purpose, but I was a tad bit surprised I wasn't more hyped up after it was all said and done.
5) Don't talk very much to your instructor. Those fools will do everything in their power to freak your shit out. I didn't encounter it so much with my instructor, but I could see it in others and feel it bubbling just underneath the surface of mine.
6) Always go skydiving (as in go to the location) with someone who won't do it. It really helps with the superiority complex you're bound to have after you're done.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Cartoon figures abound...
I missed King of the Hill last night. Boo. It's a good thing I didn't miss my completely unrealistic, animated character fix though, because I did get to see this goober:
I haven't seen anyone mention it yet but why the hell does he have to talk like that? I felt like I was back in my 9th grade geometry class when the teacher used to put apples with our names on them around the room for good grades.
I also heard Jindal speak on one of the morning news shows over the weekend and he was ridiculous. I hate to even dedicate 5 minutes of my time to discussing him but the fact that he's the Republican party's Obama is beyond laughable. Obama is post-racial. Accept it.
And for your reading pleasure, just in case you wanted to learn what a nutjob Jindal really is and let me just preface this with two words: exorcism and sex. Oh yeah.
FYI, the count down begins. I have approximately 74 hours left before I plummet to the ground in a self-induced mania. Wish me luck!
I haven't seen anyone mention it yet but why the hell does he have to talk like that? I felt like I was back in my 9th grade geometry class when the teacher used to put apples with our names on them around the room for good grades.
I also heard Jindal speak on one of the morning news shows over the weekend and he was ridiculous. I hate to even dedicate 5 minutes of my time to discussing him but the fact that he's the Republican party's Obama is beyond laughable. Obama is post-racial. Accept it.
And for your reading pleasure, just in case you wanted to learn what a nutjob Jindal really is and let me just preface this with two words: exorcism and sex. Oh yeah.
FYI, the count down begins. I have approximately 74 hours left before I plummet to the ground in a self-induced mania. Wish me luck!
Friday, February 13, 2009
Is there such a thing as a love scrooge?
God how I hate Valentine's Day. Even if it's just the day before. One more time: Valentine's Day sucks balls. And not in a good way.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Tunde Adebimpe is a funny name...
When I saw Rachel's Getting Married, I had no idea that this guy (who I secretly thought perhaps had some kind of mental disability):
And when I was busy making a stand against corporate America by, ahem, "downloading" TV on the Radio, I had no clue Tunde Adebimpe (same guy in both pics) was an actor as well. Supposedly he's a good actor but to be honest, it's really hard to tell on Rachel's Getting Married. He doesn't really do all that much but look happy, do dishes really quickly, and hide when the yelling starts. Not exactly what his degree at NYU's film school prepared him for, I'm sure.
But then last night, when TV on the Radio was on the Colbert Report, I felt kinda bad when Colbert asked them if they were just in it for the money and they said something akin to: at this point, yes. So I guess I'm off to amazon (still cheaper than iTunes) to *sigh* buy some goddamned music.
Oh and I've recently rediscovered Joan of Arcadia. That shit rocks. And Amber Tamblyn, minus the poetry because I just don't dig poetry, is awesome. She should do more movies or a tv show or something. Maybe she could join Gossip Girl and reunite with Blake Lively? I'd like something more substantial though... Maybe she can take Izzie's place on Grey's Anatomy? But only if GA gets some good writing again. I'm desperate for a new Gilmore Girls or Veronica Mars. She should do something like that. Where is her agent and why doesn't s/he read this blog?
Was one of these guys:
And when I was busy making a stand against corporate America by, ahem, "downloading" TV on the Radio, I had no clue Tunde Adebimpe (same guy in both pics) was an actor as well. Supposedly he's a good actor but to be honest, it's really hard to tell on Rachel's Getting Married. He doesn't really do all that much but look happy, do dishes really quickly, and hide when the yelling starts. Not exactly what his degree at NYU's film school prepared him for, I'm sure.
But then last night, when TV on the Radio was on the Colbert Report, I felt kinda bad when Colbert asked them if they were just in it for the money and they said something akin to: at this point, yes. So I guess I'm off to amazon (still cheaper than iTunes) to *sigh* buy some goddamned music.
Oh and I've recently rediscovered Joan of Arcadia. That shit rocks. And Amber Tamblyn, minus the poetry because I just don't dig poetry, is awesome. She should do more movies or a tv show or something. Maybe she could join Gossip Girl and reunite with Blake Lively? I'd like something more substantial though... Maybe she can take Izzie's place on Grey's Anatomy? But only if GA gets some good writing again. I'm desperate for a new Gilmore Girls or Veronica Mars. She should do something like that. Where is her agent and why doesn't s/he read this blog?
Thursday, February 05, 2009
On the art of skydiving...
In a few short weeks, this will be me:
Except I'll be diving in tandem and hopefully won't be upside down. And I'll be much cooler, of course.
Or if my mom is right, this could be me:
Except a girl and hopefully not a cartoon.
But if I do get smartly turned into a cartoon, I'm coming back as this:
or more likely this:
So the point is, I'm going skydiving. I've decided not to bother being scared until the actual day. Until then I'm just going to enjoy the idea of doing something most people are way to chickenshit to try. Except Bush Sr. He's not too chicken shit to try it - multiple times. I wonder if it's a death wish to get away from Barbara?
Monday, February 02, 2009
So weddings...
Love 'em. (Given I like the couple getting married, of course.) I think they're fun and I like the planning phases. Wedding gowns? Beautiful. Love the shopping-for-them-part and the walking-down-the-aisle-in-them-part.
Here's the rub: I have no interest in getting married anytime soon (if ever). I also could never, in a million years, wear a wedding dress in any popular shape and/or form. Except for the party part, I could never tolerate the actual act of getting married. I do think tiaras and registries are cool though (if I was the one getting the gifts). I wish I could wear a tiara for other occasions. And register for like my birthday or something. That would be very worthwhile.
Here's my point: I think it's only possible to be really, truly happy for another person when the thing that they're getting/achieving is nothing you'd ever want in a million years. Or possibly if it's something you already have or already achieved. If you disagree, leave examples. Otherwise I won't believe you.
Here's the rub: I have no interest in getting married anytime soon (if ever). I also could never, in a million years, wear a wedding dress in any popular shape and/or form. Except for the party part, I could never tolerate the actual act of getting married. I do think tiaras and registries are cool though (if I was the one getting the gifts). I wish I could wear a tiara for other occasions. And register for like my birthday or something. That would be very worthwhile.
Here's my point: I think it's only possible to be really, truly happy for another person when the thing that they're getting/achieving is nothing you'd ever want in a million years. Or possibly if it's something you already have or already achieved. If you disagree, leave examples. Otherwise I won't believe you.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Random Office Place Fears...
#1. Being the only person in a smelly bathroom and having other people come in, thinking it was you who made said bathroom smelly.
#2. Scarfing down soup right before a big meeting (because you're such a busy, worker bee) and having something in your teeth the entire meeting.
#3. Spilling your giant bottle of water/cup of coffee/can of diet soda all over original documents.
#4. Having your doctor's nurse call you back while your office is full of people.
#5. Attempting to move the wires to a computer in front of a big inter-office meeting (in a skirt) and falling on your face in the process.
#6. Spilling part of your South Beach peanut butter protein bar on your office chair, attempting to mop it up with lots of water and napkins, and leaving a big, wet spot on your chair that never, ever dries making it look like you peed your chair.
#7. This one needs a preamble: So let's say you dressed quickly in the morning and only as you were getting ready to leave did you notice that the lining for your skirt and/or dress was inching out under your hem (damn shrinkage). You decide to pin up the portion of the lining that's sticking out only you can't find any pins. Starting to panic, because you're already late, you notice a stack of fake, trashy clip-on earrings from a recent Halloween costume. Now on the fear - you are presenting a very important issue in front of a boss you really want to impress and when you stand up, random earring bits start to fall from under your dress.
#8. Scratching your nose when someone walks by your office and looks in mistaking your scratch for a pick.
#9. Accidentally calling your boss a douchebag. To his face.
#10. That someone might actually ask you about all the fancy books you put on your bookshelf but have never really read.
Absolutely none of these happened to me.
#2. Scarfing down soup right before a big meeting (because you're such a busy, worker bee) and having something in your teeth the entire meeting.
#3. Spilling your giant bottle of water/cup of coffee/can of diet soda all over original documents.
#4. Having your doctor's nurse call you back while your office is full of people.
#5. Attempting to move the wires to a computer in front of a big inter-office meeting (in a skirt) and falling on your face in the process.
#6. Spilling part of your South Beach peanut butter protein bar on your office chair, attempting to mop it up with lots of water and napkins, and leaving a big, wet spot on your chair that never, ever dries making it look like you peed your chair.
#7. This one needs a preamble: So let's say you dressed quickly in the morning and only as you were getting ready to leave did you notice that the lining for your skirt and/or dress was inching out under your hem (damn shrinkage). You decide to pin up the portion of the lining that's sticking out only you can't find any pins. Starting to panic, because you're already late, you notice a stack of fake, trashy clip-on earrings from a recent Halloween costume. Now on the fear - you are presenting a very important issue in front of a boss you really want to impress and when you stand up, random earring bits start to fall from under your dress.
#8. Scratching your nose when someone walks by your office and looks in mistaking your scratch for a pick.
#9. Accidentally calling your boss a douchebag. To his face.
#10. That someone might actually ask you about all the fancy books you put on your bookshelf but have never really read.
Absolutely none of these happened to me.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
6 Random things about me...
1. I absolutely CANNOT deal with talking about normal, bodily functions. Although I like to think I hide it well, I get as embarassed as the time I heard my mom talking about sex with my dad. I also think one should whisper when discussing such things so one will not be overheard.
2. Making lists and parenthetical references are seriously some of my best/worst writing habits. Take your pick. (FYI, I used the word seriously waay before Grey's Anatomy became popular.)
3. I am afraid to put my blog on my facebook page for fear that one of my facebook friends (or people I used to know 10+ years ago) or family members might see it and realize I'd been writing about them every now and again. Oops. Must compartmentalize.
4. I never use up anything, ever. I always throw it away when it's almost completely empty because I can't wait to open the new thing (i.e. lotions, shampoo, hair products, etc.).
5. I got in another person's argument over the validity of Kanye West at a New Year's Eve party and I cannot. let. it. go.
6. I can tell you the number of stairs in almost any building I frequent. My house? 14. The boy's apartment? 44 (actually it's 43 but I add a fake 44th step because you can't have an odd number of steps or the building will fall down). Parking garage at work? 20 (technically 21 if you count the first step/landing thing but I don't count it because, again, odd numbered stairs make the building come crumbling down). Stairwell at work? 11 for each staircase and there are 2 staircases per flight, so 22.
I'm tagging Blondie at PinkHondaCivic and LK at Pieces on the Ground. My tagger was blooming wildflowers.
The guidelines: Link to your tagger, share 6 random things about yourself, tag a few others (be sure to tell them). And of course, post the rules.
2. Making lists and parenthetical references are seriously some of my best/worst writing habits. Take your pick. (FYI, I used the word seriously waay before Grey's Anatomy became popular.)
3. I am afraid to put my blog on my facebook page for fear that one of my facebook friends (or people I used to know 10+ years ago) or family members might see it and realize I'd been writing about them every now and again. Oops. Must compartmentalize.
4. I never use up anything, ever. I always throw it away when it's almost completely empty because I can't wait to open the new thing (i.e. lotions, shampoo, hair products, etc.).
5. I got in another person's argument over the validity of Kanye West at a New Year's Eve party and I cannot. let. it. go.
6. I can tell you the number of stairs in almost any building I frequent. My house? 14. The boy's apartment? 44 (actually it's 43 but I add a fake 44th step because you can't have an odd number of steps or the building will fall down). Parking garage at work? 20 (technically 21 if you count the first step/landing thing but I don't count it because, again, odd numbered stairs make the building come crumbling down). Stairwell at work? 11 for each staircase and there are 2 staircases per flight, so 22.
I'm tagging Blondie at PinkHondaCivic and LK at Pieces on the Ground. My tagger was blooming wildflowers.
The guidelines: Link to your tagger, share 6 random things about yourself, tag a few others (be sure to tell them). And of course, post the rules.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
He's still ahead...
I give Obama a score of 101. (I'm giving him 1 extra point based on pure, unadulterated love.)
As of last Tuesday he had a +1 score for reasons discussed above. A recap (in no particular order and definitely not exhaustive) of points gained and lost in one week.
Gain - first dance with Michelle. Beyonce expressed real emotion and so did I. I was tempted to make this a loss, because it was too pathetic that Beyonce moved me but that's not really Obama's fault... I guess.
102
Gain - Mexico City Gag Rule Repealed (Washington Post article). I've been on about this issue since law school although I cared more about the loss of funding the UN Population Fund. But a gain nonetheless.
103
Loss - overuse of the phrase "an abundance of caution" by White House Press Secretary Robert Gibbs. I happened to be home sick when his first press conference aired. The stupid pc word choice has already made its way into popular vernacular and I don't like it. If you're going to be in front of the press, Mr. Gibbs, learn new ways to say the same, old thing.
102
Gain - closing Gitmo.
103
Loss - taking a year to do it.
102
Gain - making sure Citigroup sent that goddamned jet back. He gets 2 points for this one, because he was just so cool about it.
104
Loss - caving to the conservatives re: birth control in his kazillion dollar relief package (or stimulus, whatever). This pisses me right the hell off. I'd take away 3 points for this but for the fact that both he and Pelosi said the legislation will be reintroduced at a later date. It ticks me off so much when I hear conservatives manipulate an issue like this. All the provision did was allow states to provide contraceptive services to poor women without a huge red tape hullabaloo. (States can already do this but it requires lots of paperwork.) Does he even need Republican support for his stimulus package? He can get it passed easily enough and if those idiot Repubs (not all but some) are going to block an entire package because of misstated socioeconomic bigotry, so be it. Let them be the asses of this story. As is Obama (and Pelosi) get their first serious black marks.
Final Tally: 102
So he's still ahead by 2 points, but I'm ending on a disappointing note. I felt really strongly about the Citigroup jet thing too, so I'll have to try and not let one weak moment cloud my judgment. Especially if he gets the legislation passed at a later date. He'll earn back those points then.
As of last Tuesday he had a +1 score for reasons discussed above. A recap (in no particular order and definitely not exhaustive) of points gained and lost in one week.
Gain - first dance with Michelle. Beyonce expressed real emotion and so did I. I was tempted to make this a loss, because it was too pathetic that Beyonce moved me but that's not really Obama's fault... I guess.
102
Gain - Mexico City Gag Rule Repealed (Washington Post article). I've been on about this issue since law school although I cared more about the loss of funding the UN Population Fund. But a gain nonetheless.
103
Loss - overuse of the phrase "an abundance of caution" by White House Press Secretary Robert Gibbs. I happened to be home sick when his first press conference aired. The stupid pc word choice has already made its way into popular vernacular and I don't like it. If you're going to be in front of the press, Mr. Gibbs, learn new ways to say the same, old thing.
102
Gain - closing Gitmo.
103
Loss - taking a year to do it.
102
Gain - making sure Citigroup sent that goddamned jet back. He gets 2 points for this one, because he was just so cool about it.
104
Loss - caving to the conservatives re: birth control in his kazillion dollar relief package (or stimulus, whatever). This pisses me right the hell off. I'd take away 3 points for this but for the fact that both he and Pelosi said the legislation will be reintroduced at a later date. It ticks me off so much when I hear conservatives manipulate an issue like this. All the provision did was allow states to provide contraceptive services to poor women without a huge red tape hullabaloo. (States can already do this but it requires lots of paperwork.) Does he even need Republican support for his stimulus package? He can get it passed easily enough and if those idiot Repubs (not all but some) are going to block an entire package because of misstated socioeconomic bigotry, so be it. Let them be the asses of this story. As is Obama (and Pelosi) get their first serious black marks.
Final Tally: 102
So he's still ahead by 2 points, but I'm ending on a disappointing note. I felt really strongly about the Citigroup jet thing too, so I'll have to try and not let one weak moment cloud my judgment. Especially if he gets the legislation passed at a later date. He'll earn back those points then.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Oh shit this is funny...
I stole this from Pop Candy and she stole it from... I forget who but damn I laughed a lot.
Star Wars: Retold (by someone who hasn't seen it) from Joe Nicolosi on Vimeo.
Star Wars: Retold (by someone who hasn't seen it) from Joe Nicolosi on Vimeo.
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