Friday, July 28, 2006

The Amazing Screw-On Head

I love this show. I know I'm crazy, you could even say I've got a few screws loose (Geddit. Cause he's the Amazing Screw-On Head? Geddit? GEDDIT? Funny huh), but I totally love this for reason I can't explain. It is bizarre. There's a Monkey with a crown, a dog that doesn't die, Abraham Lincoln (always a sign of quality) David Hyde Pierce as the voice of a zombie. It is Awesome!

Fighting Nun thought I had lost it, because he came in from the other room to see what I was watching and was like "The Hell? What are you watching."I think I categorically say I have lost it. But this show is awesome. Go watch it. I realize that my propensity for watching a high quotient of crap doesn't qualify me as someone who's TV watching opinion you should trust, but I'm telling you. Funniest, most bizarre thing I've seen in awhile, and I just saw A Scanner Darkly in theatres. It's filling a void left by not getting to watch reruns of Invader Zim anymore. It is awesome.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Hey Jeopardy Fans....

Do me a favor and lighten up. Ken Jennings makes one unfavorable comment about Trebek being a cyborg (he is by the way) and he's marked for life. I mean come on people! Can't you Trebek-ies take a joke? Jesus.

Friday, July 21, 2006

Final Fu!

Fiiiiii-nnnnaaaal Fuuuuuu! Final Fu!

So fine. I'll admit it. I'm watching it. And I... like it. And no, I don't have any excuses for it, other than it makes me relive all those fevered dreams I had for that short four months when I was a white belt studying Tae Kwon Do when I was in eighth grade. Shut up. Like you guys didn't have delusions of martial arts grandeur, getting to star alongside the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and variations there of that peppered the pop culture radar back in the day? Just me then? Fine.

The thing about Final Fu is that it's not all that great. The challenges are kinda lame, I mean, do we really need to see some strange punch kick combinations on a dummy? Really we do? And just when I'm questioning why on earth am I watching this show, Ernie Reyes Jr. does some crazy hand movement or does some crazy stunt (which is why I like him to begin with) or does something involving a gong, and then I go "Oh yeah. That's why. Heh. Gong."And what is with the gong? As Fighting Nun so aptly put it "Can't you just count down and blow a whistle like the rest of us plebes? A gong? Jesus." That gong is freaking ubiquitous. It stopped being a set piece and turned an actual character somewhere down the line. I swear to God.

But I have to ask, what happened to Ernie Reyes Jr.? I mean, where has the cute kid, and the even cuter tennager with the long hair that spouted off bad lines of dialogue in movies such as Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 2 and Surf Ninjas? Who is this buzz-cut-coifed, track-suit-wearing gym teacher and what has he done with the Ernie Reyes Jr. I know and love? I mean he's still got his martial arts moves and all, by the hair? And the looks of Ultra-sterness? Doing him no favors.

But besides that, I'm really starting to love the show. I'm starting to love all of Ernie Reyes Jr.'s kookie moves he does before and after every fight. It's like he's stuck in a Mortal Kombat video game and he can't quite give up the gestures. And before you open up outlook, let me just say that, Yes I know that those hand gestures are part of a unique martial arts ritual. Save your speech. Besides, it doesn't matter, because Heh, funny hand movements. I've also started repeating his various lines, complete with hand gestures. Take for example, what he says after every fight "Saaa-Lute. Rest." So much authority. Sooo odd and yet so fun at the same time.

Know what else I'm loving about this show? All the screaming. Before every match, the brilliant camera guys and editors do these awesome close ups on the fighters screaming. Each fighter has the same exact look. It's this "I'm trying to be intimidating so I'm scrunching my face up into a pseudo-wolf-snarl thing, but because I already have my mouth guard in you only see the black of the mouth guard, so I look like a gumless wonder" look. Don't think that sounds funny? You will when you see it. It will crack your shit up, and you will immediately rewind for a sight of the screaming-scrunchie wonders once more.

But the only drawback to this show, which might not be considered a draw back depending on how you look at it, is what I call the "Monkey See, Monkey Do" hypothesis, playing itself out in our house. Here's the thing. Remember when you were a kid and you would see something cool on TV, not something totally unbelievable like say Superman flying, or Wonderwoman with her bracelets and all, but something that was really cool but yet attainable, if you know, you had actual coordination and weren't 10. Like I always wanted to root around in an air duct, you know those big metal ones you always see in the movies that everybody always uses as an escape hatch, but have I ever found one of those big metal air duct thingies in which to escape into all secretive like? No. I don't even think they really exist.

Now that we're grown up, the Monkey See, Monkey Do hypothesis has changed a little bit. Take for example the time Fighting Nun and I saw Ronin in the theater. For two weeks after that, Fighting Nun drove all crazy-like, trying to drive backwards all fast, and getting all swervy and crazy. The thing with Final Fu, which also holds true with most martial arts movies (See Kung Fu Hustle) is we both get it in our heads that we should reenact a scene or a fight. This almost never ends well. Somebody almost always misplaces a kick, landing in somebody else's nutsack (I wonder who's who!) then the fighting escalates from the fun play-fighting reenactment to wanting to inflict a little pain, and then it goes on and on until either an arm is bruised, or somebody either takes an elbow, a door, or a wall in the eye (ahem, Fighting Nun, ahem), or gets a ping pong ball in the neck (that was me) and blood is drawn accidently (both of us). So thanks Final Fu, for enliving the Monkey See, Monkey Do principle once again.

So, Final Fu! I reccomend it! From Ernie Reyes Jr.'s gong action (Nasty!) to the awesome growly thing the fighters do, to actually convincing Fighting Nun and I that we should fight all martial-arts-stylee. The Bloody Munchkin reccomends it. *Gong*.

Happy Aloha Friday

So a few days ago, a very awesome co-worker answered a prayer I never knew I had. She brought me a gift, which in and of itself isn't the prayer. The gift, in her words is "Another toy to add your collection" . The toy in question is a very awesome hawaiian bobble man (for lack of a better description). This answered a prayer, filled a need I never knew I had. Well, I've known I've wanted, neigh, NEEDED a bobble head of some sort in my collection for quite sometime now. I've been hounding Fighting Nun for a Apolo Anton Ohno Bobblehead for quite some time, and let's not even talk about how forlorn and sad I get when I miss a Giants bobblehead day. I still whimper about not getting an Omar Visquel bobblehead, I mean cause seriously. How cool would that be? And then I could finally track down his version of Broadway, and anytime I needed inspiration, any time I needed to be cheered up just a little bit, I could play the song, have Omar's voice tell me ever so gently that "Bwoadway's dahk tooonight" and everything would be o.k., everything would be right again. But I don't have an Omar bobble head. I don't have any bobble heads, or anything that bobbles really.

Until now! Now I have a tattooed hawaiian man with what I'm choosing to believe is the Lou-Diamond-Phillips-As-Richie-Valenz-era coif, a lei and a straw skirt that will now give me any affirmations I want, which is so awesome, awesome in ways I can not even tell you. Now, any time I need some support or guidance I have him. And it works like a charm. Let me give you a sample.

"Hawaiian Guy (I haven't named him yet, which I'll get to in a second) I'm kind of having a fat day. Does my butt look big in these jeans?"
*Thunk, Bing-a-bing-a-bing (Hawaiian Guy's inner thoughts, which I can read) "No dahlink. Your butt looks fabulous. Now sit back and relax as I play on my ukelale. (Starts Singing) Tiiii-neey Buuuu-bles."
"Thanks Hawaiian Guy, you're awsome"
"(Sends thought finger guns my way) Any time dahlink."
And anything I want him to do, within his capability, he does. "Hawaiian Guy, do an Elvis Pelvis shake."
"You got it dahlink" *Ka-thunk-a-thunk-wing-wing-wing*

*Just for the record, I don't know why he sounds like that one Billy Crystal character either, he just does. I just didn't think a hawaiian Bobble figurine should have Barry White's voice, and that was the second runner up.

But here's the thing, I haven't decided what to name him yet, and Hawaiian guy is getting a bit irritable at me for not naming him. His previous owner said I should call him Rico, but then I started calling him Don Ho for no good reason, other than I like going "Tiii-neee Buuu-bles" and snapping my fingers any time I make him bobble. And then I started thinking of him as having the Richie-Valenz-fifties-style-man-poof, so I started calling him Richie, but then started thinking about the movie La Bamba and realized I liked calling him Lou better, but that made me sad when I realized that the last time Lou Diamond Phillips was in a movie I really enjoyed was when Reagan was still in office. So then the Tigress mentioned that he looked like Maxwell Caulfield's character during the Luau scene in Grease 2 (which I'll have to take her word for), so then I started calling him Rex Manning, which I guess has kind of stuck...

"Oh Rexy, You're sooo Sexy"
"Thank You dahlink. Smell the flowers on my lei and let me serenade you with the sounds of the island. Also, shall I hula for your amusement?"
"Yes, yes you must." *Thoink-bing-a-bing-a-bong-wing-wing-wing-shaka-shaka-shaka*

But I haven't quite settled on that yet, I feel like I should pick a name from one of those fifties beach movies, but I can't quite recall any that seem fitting, so he's still nameless or more to the point in between names (in between names? Wasn't that the name of Jordan Catelano's band when AJ was with the band but she got stage fright and couldn't remember the words to "I wanna be sedated" by the Ramones? Hawaiian Guy: "Why yes it is dahlink" *Thoink-boing-boing* "You are so smart about pop culture" "*Blushing* Gee thanks Hawaiian Guy. Sometimes I even surprise myself"). So please help me name him. You can vote on the names provided, or nominate a new name entirely in the comments.

Thursday, July 20, 2006


I saw this earlier today, and I have to say it's stuck with me. This? Is what's going to be haunting my dreams tonight. This? Is what parents tell their toddlers will be coming out of their beds at night if they don't eat their vegetables, brush their teeth and kiss their momma like good boys and girls. Can't you just hear it "Eat more peas or Carson Daly will come out of your closet and devour you whole." This is...

You know what this is actually? O.k., so three or four (possibly five, GASP!) years ago, Fighting Nun and I were at a house party over at a friend's. There was this girl there that insisted on taking pictures of everybody and she actually caught Fighting Nun at a bad angle and quite by surprise. She gave said picture of surprise and its copy (there were two) to my friend. Well my friend had two roommates and they kind of had a leeetle too much fun with said photo. So one of the copies they cut out Fighting Nun's head and would tape to various pictures and objects to freak the other out. My friend Top Gun had a bikini or lingerie calendar and one of his roommates taped Fighting Nun's head to one of the girl's bodies, so he turned his calendar over and there Fighting Nun was, staring back at him from his bikini calendar. This picture is like that, disconcerting and kinda freaky.

I only have two questions to ask about this photo: When did Carson Daly start getting hairplugs and why is he emulating Richard Simmons?

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Pam and Kid Rock to Marry

You know what ticks me about this news? It's not that Pamela Anderson happens to be forsaking Tommy Lee (who has stated several times that he'd like to get back with her, but that's neither here nor there) for Kid Rock. It's not that she consistently goes for guys who have made a sex video, either with or without her. It's that SHE'S IN THE NEWS AT ALL.

I just... she just... *inarticulate hate gurgle*. I have some irrational hate for Pamela Anderson to the point that any time she's in the news for any length of time at all, I start getting all red in the face and grumpy for no explicable reason. Part of it has to do with how annoying she is about her PETA involvement, and being a vegetarian, and blah blah blah, and the other part of it is that SHE. JUST. WON'T. GO. AWAY. I mean seriously, she's like some andromeda strain of Celebrity-dom, the likes of which only Paris Hilton can best. Just when you think you have a handle on the virus that is Pamela Anderson, she pops back up, more annoying and cloying than ever.

And there's just stuff about her that I know that I can't unknow unless I become senile that I wish I didn't know, like the number of sex videos that have popped up with her in them (I believe the total is 2, one with Tommy Lee, the other with Brett Micheals), the fact that she had an all vegetarian Thanksgiving feast with Morrisey for PETA (come on, there has to be something more important for those brain cells to store), the fact that she refused to wear anything but PETA approved designers for some fashion event she hosted in Europe, which meant she only wore Stella McCartney's designs. It's sad that I know that. Other stuff I know that I don't want to know? The fact that she had her boobs done, undone, and redone bigger over the course of her career. I don't need to know the history of Pamela Anderson's boobs. And yet I do, probably better than my own. Which is sad. The fact that she's only going to treat her Hepatitis C with all natural drugs, which o.k., here's what I want to know. Let's say you're a somewhat hot but obviously on the hunt for nice a piece of tail actor, model or rock star and you can have your choice of tail anywhere out there in the world. Why, on god's green earth would hit this desease ridden piece of ass, not once, But repeatedly? Because that crap has been well publicized, but that hasn't stopped a whole bevy of men from repeatedly dipping into that well, know what I'm sayin'? But why? That's what I'm confused about. Because, ick.

And wasn't she going to retire from the public eye? Didn't she come back into the public eye to say she was leaving the public eye only to come back into it in the form of a nude picture she did for PETA for a billboard (another thing I wish I could unknow). Damn it Pamela, if you're gonna go, go. Stay gone. Don't come back. Really. If I throw a stick, will you leave? Because damn.

O.k., I'm sorry for the vitreol Pamela, really I am. I hope Kid Rock really has a lot fun with your girls for eternity. Really I do. Just do me a favor and live the remainder of your days with Kid Rock out quietly? Just please. Don't come back in the media because you got some other spreadable desease by sharing a tattoo needle. Don't openly insult someone at a red carpet event for wearing a leather coat and let page six post it. Just go away.


The Bloody Munchkin

Monday, July 17, 2006

Mr. T Rules! Charitibly.

O.k., I think it's a well known fact that I love Mr. T. The A-Team was, I wouldn't say before my time, it just wasn't what I was into. But you know what was my time? What I was totally into? Mister T! I had the Mister T decoder ring (from a cereal box) and everything. The animated TV show was a bit odd and there was something about, I dunno, gymnasts? But that doesn't mean I didn't love that when I was a kid.

I've heard rumors of him resurfacing for a while now. And now he's going to be on a show where he doles out advice for other people's problems, which, if I was ever to go on a show and talk about my problems, I'd want Mr. T. to be the one to answer them. And I totally have to watch this. Fighting Nun, do you happen to know if we have TV Land? Because I'm here to tell you, this would be a good reason to get it. I mean, I can only guess at the type of advice he would dole out, but I'm sure his answers would be awesome.

So Mr. T's back, somewhat I think. And he's also back without his chains. Can you believe that? Him getting rid of his trademark? That was maybe on the top 3 of a list of ten things I never thought I'd hear in my lifetime. And he's getting rid of them to help Katrina victims. How awesome is that? He battles cancer, doles out advice and sheds his jewels for charity. Is there anything Mr. T. can't do. I Think Not!

The regrettable career of Eric Balfour

Before I get started on this one, let me just say that unlike Rob Schnieder (and it's not that I vehemently dislike Rob Schnieder, its just that he's done some unbelievably vile stuff, but you get what I mean), I really actually like Eric Balfour. I mean, I had a crush on him that goes all the way back to his days on Kids Incorporated that was unrelenting. I mean Un. Relenting. Him and Ryan Lambert filled my pre-adolescent days with glee and a lot of squeeing. O.k. let me take you back, way back to the days when kids out in the sticks and weeds such as myself and Xanthia had only heard of MTV and had come to think of it not so much as a mythical creature like the unicorn, but more like dolphins at some far away location that you got to visit on that fleeting vacation. And that's truly when we got to see cable tv channels like MTV and Nickelodean and the Disney channel (which is where Kids Incorporated and it's even more squee-worthy counterpart The Mickey Mouse Club existed). You went to the theme park during the day to see shamu and ride rollercoasters that made you upend the ice cream sandwich you had just eaten and then you chilled at the motel pool and then watched MTV and all the other mystical channels the motel cable had to offer that you could not watch at home. Back in those days, the Disney Channel was considered a "Premium" channel. They didn't even have commercials! Gasp! They used to do this thing called subscription week or some such thing, and they would bait you for that week with all their programming and then they'd display a telephone number so you could order the channel. I could not be moved from the tv for that week. Would not budge an inch. Not one inch at all. And the reason I would not move? Kids Incorporated and The Mickey Mouse Club. That hour of programming was my heroine and Eric Balfour was reason number 1 why I needed my fix.

I mean, back then the cuteness was undeniable. And from that point on, I would catch him on things, like that regrettable comedy about cops that aired for one season on (I think) ABC. It was bad. But he was good, mostly because he was cute, but I digress. And then he was on the first two episode of Buffy, and everyone who had a direct or indirect hand in the first four seasons of Buffy is just cool by association. So needless to say, my hopes have always been high for him. He's cute. He's scruffy. He's got a mean swagger about him that I always dig, he was part of the seemingly endless chain of cute but totally-wrong-for-her boys that Claire Fisher would end up with. I just loved him. He and Jeremy Sisto somehow had the ability to make me squee loudly anytime they were on screen on that shoe. And everytime I did, Fighting Nun would give me this look, this deep penetrating hard gaze that said "You are such a girl, Jesus", followed closely by his patented eye roll to which all I could do was go "I'm sorry... but Eric Balfour!" or "But, but, but, it's Jeremy!"

But then Eric somehow became a hex on all shows that tried to cast him either as a lead or as a protagonist. I mean "Veritas: The Quest"? "Hawaii?" "Fearless?" "Sex, Love and Secrets?" Which I hear never even aired. Did UPN just take a bath in that one or what? "Hawaii?" "Conviction?" I mean come on. If that car commercial in which he plays Satan, that season in which he was on 24 (which I never watched actually), and his stint on Six Feet Under have taught us anything, it's that he's much better off either playing a bad guy or at least someone misguided. The play it by the books protagonist? Not so much. Come on Eric! You doomed a man to an eternity of driving a minivan! The least you can do is keep with the theme.

I mean, I think I've proved without a shadow of a doubt that I like the guy, but his continually starring in crappy shows can also make him the bane of my exsistence. Because I feel obligated to at least somewhat pay attention to the stuff he's in, but it annoys me that he's continually in some crappy stuff. Who knows, maybe the next thing he's in will actually be pretty good. I mean. The Elder Son actually sounds good and anything with Rade Zerbedzija in it at least makes said movie go up a letter grade. But still, I've had to put up with a lot of crappy stuff in his career just for the sole fact that he was in it. I guess for every Can't Hardly Wait appearance, there has to be a Texas Chainsaw Massacre, but please for the love of God, not too many. Please Eric, as one of your lifelong fans, I deserve better than that, and so do you. And so does your career. That c.v. ain't gonna right itself, know what I'm sayin?

Friday, July 14, 2006

Bless Me, Damn it!

See Fighting Nun, if you don't please me when I sneeze, I might die. And then me and the Almight Cheese Sauce will be kicking it in heaven. I'll leave the mortal coil if you don't bless me when I sneeze. Do you get it now????

Thursday, July 13, 2006

Running With Scissors

Why didn't anybody tell me that one of my favorite books in the last few years was being turned into a movie? Shame on ya'll.

And the cast for this movie? Looks totally awesome. Alec Baldwin, Annette Benning, Gwyneth? Joseph Fiennes as Neil Bookman? Some inspired bit of casting right there. I mean, whoa. I haven't seen trailers, I don't know how true to the book it'll be, but I'm already applauding the attempt.

Rodney Dangerfield Rules

So last night, we're watching Celebrity Deathmatch, and who should they happen to pair up but a brought back from 2004 Rodney Dangerfield versus Robb Schnieder. I actually heard myself utter "I don't want to live in a world, imaginary or real, where Robb Schnieder wins against Rodney Dangerfield." Thankfully I don't have to.

Thank you Celebrity Deathmatch for providing me with an alternate universe where Rodney Dangerfield can live out the rest of his days in Robb Schnieder free peace and harmony.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Worker's Comp

There is nothing quite like falling down three stairs and almost to a full face plant in front of a handful of co-workers. NOTHING!

Actually the only upside to said almost-face-planting was I got to use the following line "The execution was flawless but I'll have to take a 7/10's point deduction on the landing." Nothing like figure skating references to make me feel better about various pitfalls and blunders.

If I call in sick tomorrow (Psst. Fighting Nun, how are the winds looking), do you think the bevy of witnesses will vouch for me? I can hear the phone call now "Oh yeah, I'm really hurt today after my fall at work. I'm not going to file a worker's comp charge, but do you mind if I take a couple days off to 'recuperate'?"

Think it'll work?

Headbutts and Yo Momma Insults

That's right folks, Materazzi insulted Zidane's momma and Zidane ain't having none of it. Everyone around the world do me a favor. If you ever end up on some god-forsaken soccer field and you happen to be on an opposing side to this guy in a friendly game of pick-up soccer, whatever you do, do not insult his momma. You'll have a nice little indention in your chest to show for it.

Monday, July 10, 2006

Short Story

So I'm doing something a little different on this blog for a little while. My best friend and I (Hey Xanthia!!! What's up girl!) are thinking of writing together so I added her to my blog and we're going to try coming up with some various fiction and short stories. It's a work in progress, so be patient.

Anyhoo, below I'm attaching part of a short story I'm in the process of writing. Hope you enjoy. Here goes nothing:

It was my last day. It already felt bittersweet. The music store was my refuge, the one place where I could go and feel like an individual, and now I was leaving it. The shift started out like any other, but by first break Natalie and I had already dissolved into tears twice. I was going to miss her most of all. Well almost most of all.
He showed up two hours before closing. It aggravated me. I was doing my best to ignore him, but yet, everywhere I looked he was always in my periphary, daring me to stare, daring me to dream. But I couldn't get caught up in it again. He'd look at me, trying to get my attention. I couldn't let it happen. I was too worried that I'd dissolve into Old Andrea again to notice the music change. He was in the line to be cashed out thirty minutes before closing. I would do whatever I could to avoid ringing him out, but he would just let someone else go in front of him, biding his time. Finally I couldn't avoid him. I took a deep breath and sighed. "Can I take the next person in line?" He came up with a big stack of CDs. "I though you balked at the idea of buying your own CDs and funding 'The System'."
"I do, but see I use to have this friend who made me the most awesome mixed tapes but she's been playing a disappearing act lately. So I'm having to make due."
I looked down and at his CDs. It was a hard jab and I was going to have to take it. "Buying Ashlee Simpson and Mandy Moore? Not exactly making due there chief."
"What can I say, without guidance I can get lost in the cultural wasteland."
"Do you really want these?"
"No not really."
"How about... Vanilla Ice! Josh you have got to be kidding me."
"O.k. the top three are a joke but the rest I want."
"So, is this little excursion just an excuse for spending more of the trust fund, or do have an actual reason for being here?"
"I came to see you actually. I heard you got that internship in Seattle."
I got really quite and stared at his CDs a bit. "I did."
"And you're leaving on Thursday."
"I am."
"I tried calling you."
"I know you did."
"You haven't returned any of my phone calls, or any of my texts."
"I haven't"
"Were you going to tell me?" More quiet.
"I was going to call you once I felt..."
"Felt what?"
"That I was over you and we could start over in ernest without...without my feelings getting in the way."
"And when was that going to be?" Even more quiet.
"I don't know."
"So what was your plan? You were just going to cut off contact with me, not even give me a chance to explain myself, cut line and bail? Does our friendship mean anything to you Andrea?"
"How can you ask me that. It's because it means everything to me that I had to do this." Tears wer in my eyes now. I could feel my throat closing up.
"Will you at least talk to me, I just need to..." I gave him a hard calculating look, trying hard to hold back my quivering lip and tears I knew wanted to come.
"I'm busy packing and getting ready. I don't think I can."
"How about tonight? Can you talk to me after your shift."
"I don't think so. Gino asked me to stock after. I won't get out until way after midnight."
"She gets off in fifteen minutes." Natalie piped up from her cash register. I wheeled in her direction, a look of astonishment and anger probably in full view on my face. I'm pretty sure I threw in a nostril flair for good measure.
"Actually I don't. I get off in an hour because I promised I'd help Gino."
"But Gino told you it is your last day. That you should live it up and that you should take off as soon as sign off and cash in your register."
"But I already made arrangements. I'm staying for an hour."
"But Gino and I both said to take the night off early. We won't allow you to work the extra hour." She looked directly at Josh "She's off in fifteen minutes."
"So fifteen minutes then. Will you talk to me then?"
"I don't think it's a good idea Josh."
"You're not giving on this at all are you?"
I shook my head and finished ringing him up. He handed me his credit card in silence. As he left, he took the bag from my hand and said "Plan B then."
Once he was gone, I wheeled on Natalie "What the hell was that all about?"
"He was your best friend. You're not going to spend one of your last nights here talking to your best friend?"
"What for? So he can tell me that I'm his best friend and that my friendship means more to him than my feelings mean to me so that I can dissolve into the same old schmoopy, mopey Andrea puddle again? I won't do it."
"No Andrea. So you can say goodbye to somebody who meant so much to you. Take my advice. If you don't listen to what he has to say, you might end up regretting it for the rest of your life."
"No. I don't see that. I just see the same old patterns. And I can't fall into them right now... Hold on. What is this playing?"
We listened for a second "It's Bloc Party's ..."
"Modern Love. What was playing before it?"
"Golden Palamino's Rain..."
"Holds. And the Cranberries played before that. Son of a Bitch, Micheal's playing my mixed tape. Hand me the walkie talkie."
"Yeah." He squawked back.
"What is this you're playing?"
"A mixed CD this guy asked me to spin. He says the mix is yours. It's pretty good. The student has become the master."
"Yeah Yeah, that's great. Could you take it off please?"
"No can do. Guy payed me twenty bucks to play it in it's entirety."
"I'll pay you forty to turn it off."
"Sorry I got a better offer. Same guy is offering me a hundred bucks for the micraphone."
"Micheal. Do not give him the mic. Do you hear me. Do not give him the mic!" There was nothing coming from the other end of walkie talkie. "Son of a Bitch."
I heard his voice coming over the speakers. I tried my best to ignore it, ringing out the customers as fast as I could to drown him out.
"Hi. How's everybody doing tonight?" I saw him at the DJ booth in the middle of the store. "I hope you're all enjoying your shopping experience so far. How do you like the mixed tape so far?" Various customers catcalled and clapped.
"What the hell is he doing?" I asked to nobody in particular.
"Talking to you the one way he's sure you'll listen." Natalie said matter of factly.
"My best friend made this mix. She actually works here. Be sure to tell Andrea how much you enjoyed it on your way out. She's up front at the register." People's necks snapped from his side of the store to mine. "Wave to everybody Andrea, let them know who you are." My cheeks flushed. I felt red all over. I had no idea what was going on and I had just gotten put in the spot light. I put my hand up slightly without even knowing what I was doing. "I hope you'll forgive me this little indulgence of playing this in front of you all, but you see this is my friend's last day working here. She's moving on to bigger and better things. I just wanted to remincse with her a little before she left. She used to make me the best mixed tapes and we used to stay up all night in her tiny room listening to them and talking about everything." He had climbed onto the DJ booth counter now, so that the whole store could see him clearly. "Looking back on it, those nights were the best nights of my life. It was just us and the music and everything felt good. I'm really going to miss those moments. Anyway, on alot of those nights I use to go on and on about the perfect ten. I was obsessed with finding a girl who met with my totally skewed standards of perfection. Not perfect but someone who was perfect for me. But that standard, my system was stupid. Nobody's perfect. I get that now. My best friend isn't. You see, she's suffering from depression, but she's trying to work it out for herself. She's trying to get better on her own terms. I'm very proud of her. I'm not perfect either. Apparantly I'm deaf and blind. You wouldn't know it to look at me. I'm blind because I couldn't see a good thing when it was right in front of my face. And I'm deaf because I never stopped to listen to my heart." Tears were streaming down my eyes, but I also had a quizzical look on my face. Just what was he getting at? "Andrea. I realize I'm a little late on this but I love you. I'm in love with you. And I want to know if you love me too. So do you?"
I stood stock still. The weight of it hit me. "Andrea?" This time I heard the walkie talkie.
I shook myself awake and picked up the walkie talkie. "Does he mean it?" I could see Josh bending down.
"What does she mean do I mean it. Of course I mean it." Boomed from the speakers.
Micheal squawked back into the walkie-talkie "He means it."
I took a long breath and then whispered into the walkie talkie. "Yes."
Over the speakers I heard "What"
"Yes" I said loudly and then I yelled it.
When it finally registered with him what my answer was, He clambered down off the DJ stand and ran in my direction. I met him halfway there. There's something about kissing someone in the stacks of your favorite record store. In the movies, you always see the heartfelt reunion, the romantic climax, and you always wish that it would happen to you. That you could have that moment. I wanted that moment, but I never thought I could have it, not ever, and especially not with Josh. But there I was, in the middle of the record store, having my moment.
"You have lousy timing."
"You wouldn't return my calls. It's not my fault. I'm perfect."
"You're deaf and blind."
"Not any more."

The End

O.k., it needs some work, I get that. But I'm interested to see what anybody has to say about it.
Thanks in advance.

The Bloody Munchkin

Headbutt Heard Round the World

I don't really talk about sports around here because I don't feel very qualified to talk about it at any depth. And so it should come to no surprise that this post is about something so banal and menial as Zadane's headbutt at the end of World Cup Final.

That? Was Awesome. I'm sorry that this statement basically marks me as having the emotional maturity of a five-year-old, but it really was awesome, like hockey fight awesome. It was unexpected and just shocking and, sure it's not what anyone, especially Zidane, would've wanted. I get that if they had to do over again, the parties involved might not have done it, or Zidane probably would've controlled his temper (I can't vouch for the other guy).

But sadly, I'm kind of glad he did it, if only because it was memorable. I mean I remember other parts of the game, and other games in this world cup too, but what's going to stick with me for years to come? This. And why? Because it surprised me, and got me talking about Soccer with Fighting Nun more, which we don't usually do. And it also got me theororizing what might've ticked him off (I thought it was actually a Yo' Mama style diss, but apparantly not so much. I mean, a racial slur? That's it? Weak.), talking about how viciously the commentators turned on Zidane in the end. And I mean, what was with that? For the previous 109 minutes, they were putting him on a pedastal and lauding him with praise. It was sickening me there for awhile ('Will they just tell him how they feel and leave us out of their crush? Jesus!') Then, the 110 minute happened, Zidane Headbutts the guy in the chest and suddenly? The commentators treat him like he just ate a baby with A1 sauce in front of everyone. Take it easy commentator dudes, he didn't kill anybody. Now if the guy he head butted was seriously injured, like paralyzed for life injured, then I'd be pissed at him, but as it is, the dude wasn't heart and played out the rest of the game, smarmy smile and all.

Do I think what Zidane did was wrong? Yes. Do I think it merited a red card. Yeah, probably. I mean they weren't in the midst of a play, so it was unnecessary contact, but do I think his little action got blown way out of proportion. Oh yes definately. Like I said before, his behavior was hockey fight bad. Not, egregariously and monstrously bad, just letting the adrenaline and anger get to you kind of bad, and should therefore be cut a break in the press.

It's not like I like the guy, because after the five-thousandth "Zidane and his prolific career, Zidane is such an amazing player" the commentators made, I wanted to throttle both him and the commentators, I just don't think he did anything that bad. So cut the guy a break. Or he'll headbutt you.

Sunday, July 09, 2006

Badges of Adulthood

O.k., so remember when you were in elementary school and somehow, and you’re not really sure how you were reeled into this, all you know is you were enlisted into a scouts of some kind? And you did stuff? And remember how they gave you like badges that you wore on a sash signifying the stuff you did.

I’m not sure why I was in the girl scouts, other than that I’m convinced that my mother would rather I spend hours making lanyard key chains for no purpose whatsoever than to be in her hair at that age, but for whatever reason I was in the girl scouts. I don’t really remember the stuff I did in girl scouts. I think there was something about knots and I know we made stuff, like key chains and bracelets. And I’m pretty sure I got badges for stuff I did during those all important girl scout meetings I attended that I don’t really remember now. And I actually don’t remember any of the badges, and I’m no longer in possession of said badges because I’m pretty sure I got rid of all my girl scout stuff during my “Kurt Cobain is my co-pilot, Green Peace is my calling from God” phase (It was the Mid-Nineties and I was a rebellious spawn of hippies in a bible-belt state, what can I tell you?). I regret getting rid of them, not because I look fondly on those badges, but because, Damn It, I want some badges for stuff I’ve done and I want them NOW!

Let me explain. So today I went windsurfing, which, for me, can be awesome or my Achilles Heel depending on what day it is, what my mood is and whether or not the Windsurfing Gods have decided to spite me or not. But today? It was awesome! I did some bad-ass shit out on that water, well bad-ass for me anyway. I tackled my first non-planing jibe (Yah!) and I thought I was a plane, or sounding like one anyway.

WARNING: Long Anticdote to follow.

So there I was on the water, going faster than I normally do, which is awesome (AWESOME!). I hear this noise. I think the fact that I am going faster than I normally do is creating said noise. I think there is something on the fin of my board creating said noise. I realize there is nothing on said fin creating the noise. I really do think I am making said noise. For a split second, I’m convinced I’m breaking the speed barrier. I… realize it’s a plane flying overhead making the noise. My ego is immediately deflated. Then I realize that this whole thought process might be the single funniest, most idiotic thing I’ve ever thought and begin laughing convulsively. I get my board back to Fighting Nun, laughing the whole time and convey said story to Fighting Nun. I realize I’ve made a huge mistake because I’ve now created more fuel for the “Tease Bloody Munchkin about something she said or did” fire, which frankly needs no more fuel. Fighting Nun and I have been together just shy of a decade and within this amount of time I’ve said enough unintentionally funny and embarrassing things and done enough embarrassingly stupid stuff that Fighting Nun now has a huge artillery of embarrassing Bloody Munchkin tidbits, which now include this story. (End Anticdote) But this is not my point.

My point is, I did some pretty awesome stuff out there today. A non-planing jibe. I actually pulled off a non-planing jibe today, which I frankly thought was beyond my abilities, which makes me proud beyond belief. But do I have anything to show for it? Photographic evidence? Video footage? A cool scar even? Noooooo! And do I have anyone other than Fighting Nun to share said accomplishments with? Nooooo! I couldn’t even share this with my mom because she starts getting all gaspy any time I mention I’ve attempted a sport any more dangerous than shuffleboard. And Fighting Nun is tired of my bragging, not just because he’s done several non-planing jibes himself and is therefore a bigger bad-ass than I am, but mostly because after my fifteenth attempt at bragging about the stunt, complete with flexing my “Guns” and posing, he and I both knew it has lost its appeal.

That’s why I say I want a badge marking the occasion. I want a sash with a little iron-on badge that say “Non-Planing Jibe” on it. In fact, I think there are a lot of events that happen to us as adults that we deserve badges for, or maybe even a gold star. I mean seriously, where is the reward system for accomplishing stuff anymore? Just cause we’re out of elementary school doesn’t mean we dislike blue ribbons over here. And it’s not that accomplishing stuff isn’t it’s own reward. It is. But Damn It, some days, not everyday, but every once and awhile I want proof of reaching my milestone. I want my Girl Scouts sash back and I want to fill it with accomplishments, however small, that I find meaningful. Like the Non-Planing Jibe badge or “Didn’t flip off the guy who cut me off in traffic, even though he really deserved it” badge or “I actually made it through a day of work with out pummeling my co-workers down ruthlessly with my words” badge. I want to wear this sash complete with badges around all the time and point them out like I did back when I was a girl scout, even though I can’t remember what those badges were.

So I propose we as adults start a new scout troop, complete with sashes and badges that mean something to us now. We’ll call it the Bloody Munchkin Adult Show-Off Scouts of America! Who’s with me? Anybody? Bueller? Bueller? Fry? Fine. I’ll just be over here in the corner, sewing on my Windsurfing Badass badge onto my sash and polishing my “I’m smarter than you” medal. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.