I was thinking about how fantastic it would be if every time I walked into a room people would say, "Oh. It's just Amanda." This happens to poor Brian Krakow in My So Called Life, except, you know, they say Brian instead of Amanda. Poor Brian cannot compete with the one and only Jordan Catalano, even though Jordan cannot read (!) and occasionally wears eyeliner and contracts gout. I think I am confusing Jordan with Jared Leto in real life and I don't even know if contract is the right word for what happens when you get gout, but the point is still the same: Angela thinks her life is, like, so, HARD, and she's always sprawling out on her bed in an angsty fashion, but really she is is stealing Brian's thunder. He is the real hero of MSCL. And he has sweet hair.
I wonder if referees and umpires have low self esteem because they face a constant barrage of insults. But then I think about how I feel like I know referees/umpires from professional sports without really even knowing any of them. In my mind they are all in their fifties and either wiry or with a growing beer belly and all are pretty much balding. They are also all making the strike sign in unison and it looks like a sweet dance. And they are all making the same bad joke in response to my inquiry about their low self esteem, that their wives deliver the constant barrage of insults, and that the crowds are nothing in comparison. And so I guess I don't really care about umpires like I care about Brian K.
I'm glad that I worked that out.
So. I have a new cell phone. I was going through my ring tones--because the ring tone selection is of the utmost importance--and I discovered something exciting! Amongst Chamber Ensemble and Baroque Dream and Spring Sonate I found....Push It! Perfect! I love the person who made that happen.
That's all I have. Back to school in a week. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. I have been preparing by doing comforting things, such as watching Spirited Away, reading the His Dark Material series, and baking with rhubarb.
I forgot to write about dragons. Brian Krakow was a dragon. Bianca, the sex doll from Lars and the Real Girl, was a dragon. Salt N Peppa were dragons, and maybe even Spinderella.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
X-Men & the Rise of Gambit Kicking My Ass & Making Me Like It
So... first let me apologize to my fellow dragon poster-- I went without you, but, I will see it again in the upcoming week in apology.
That said... amidst the bad movie rage, let me say... this one very well might have taken the cake (if it wasn't for Hannah Montana, perhaps). The first 30 minutes were spent in the heat of confusion, trying to understand why a character whose name should be Logan is being called Jimmy (whether this is true to comic book form, I don't know, but also doubt). Eventually, things start making a sort of sense... but the whole movie is so full of kitchy die hard explosions that it's hard to take anything seriously-- even for a comic book movie.
The one saving grace? Well... it wasn't Hugh Jackman's performance... but rather the lonely 5 minutes in which Taylor Kitsch (a la Tim Riggins from Friday Night Lights) appears as a sexy, swaggering, and all the right kind of sexy Gambit. With some beefed up powers from what I remember. I mean, that boy (for his short time on board) kicked some serious bad guy ass. And he looked oh-so-good doing it.
Otherwise, it was the nonstop laughter shared by my dear friend from out of state. We may have spent half the movie looking at each other, eyebrows a-raised.
Harry Potter followed this XMen escapade-- I have my questions about this (like, how I really did get sleazy for Ron Weasley-- and also mildly uncomfortable with all of the necking scenes.)But hey, there was one scene with a tiny dragon! It made the popcorn pop. Dragons have all kinds of skills.
School starts soon. Dragon sighs.
That said... amidst the bad movie rage, let me say... this one very well might have taken the cake (if it wasn't for Hannah Montana, perhaps). The first 30 minutes were spent in the heat of confusion, trying to understand why a character whose name should be Logan is being called Jimmy (whether this is true to comic book form, I don't know, but also doubt). Eventually, things start making a sort of sense... but the whole movie is so full of kitchy die hard explosions that it's hard to take anything seriously-- even for a comic book movie.
The one saving grace? Well... it wasn't Hugh Jackman's performance... but rather the lonely 5 minutes in which Taylor Kitsch (a la Tim Riggins from Friday Night Lights) appears as a sexy, swaggering, and all the right kind of sexy Gambit. With some beefed up powers from what I remember. I mean, that boy (for his short time on board) kicked some serious bad guy ass. And he looked oh-so-good doing it.
Otherwise, it was the nonstop laughter shared by my dear friend from out of state. We may have spent half the movie looking at each other, eyebrows a-raised.
Harry Potter followed this XMen escapade-- I have my questions about this (like, how I really did get sleazy for Ron Weasley-- and also mildly uncomfortable with all of the necking scenes.)But hey, there was one scene with a tiny dragon! It made the popcorn pop. Dragons have all kinds of skills.
School starts soon. Dragon sighs.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Dragons, Hot Whiskey Breath, & the Dangerous Lives of Hot Girls in America
So, lately… I just haven’t been so much at the bar. Why? You might be thinking. You’re a poet, poets are drinkers. That’s what they do.
Well, yes. I am. And I do like to grab an adult bevy every once in a while but I have spent this summer living drastically under the poverty line and so… funding for whiskey? Less of a priority.
But times, they are a-changing. The semester starts in two weeks (which means a second string of income that will promptly go to my credit card bill), and more importantly, my chapbook manuscript that I’ve been trying to convince publishers to pinch for a while now, well it finally got picked up.
To celebrate, I met my lady A (and second half to this book publishing venture) downtown and we continued through the streets of Boise, following our most poetic whiskey impulses (or in her case, light heffs), playing pool with would-be date rapists, and high fiving to our successes.
The result of so much festive fun? Still drunk in the morning. And almost an hour late for work. And wiped out.
Still—a book forthcoming. Check it Spring/Summer 2010. Who rules? Oh yeah. Me.
Dragons forever!
Well, yes. I am. And I do like to grab an adult bevy every once in a while but I have spent this summer living drastically under the poverty line and so… funding for whiskey? Less of a priority.
But times, they are a-changing. The semester starts in two weeks (which means a second string of income that will promptly go to my credit card bill), and more importantly, my chapbook manuscript that I’ve been trying to convince publishers to pinch for a while now, well it finally got picked up.
To celebrate, I met my lady A (and second half to this book publishing venture) downtown and we continued through the streets of Boise, following our most poetic whiskey impulses (or in her case, light heffs), playing pool with would-be date rapists, and high fiving to our successes.
The result of so much festive fun? Still drunk in the morning. And almost an hour late for work. And wiped out.
Still—a book forthcoming. Check it Spring/Summer 2010. Who rules? Oh yeah. Me.
Dragons forever!
maybe i'll also talk about date rape and the missed connection
-Amber, pondering the contents of her next blog entry. Stay tuned.
Pretty much every person who has killed a dragon, in addition to going straight to hell, knows that you have to go for the soft part of the belly with your rapier or cleaver. What some people do not know is that dragons also have sensitive tummys ON THE INSIDE. Example: Beerfest.
This dragon made her way through the stupidity of the disconnected Ann Morrison parking lot, with the Bud Light semi truck, akin to the North Star, beckoning in the distance as her guide. While I was dubious about Bud Light being included amongst the alleged 110 microbrews, I did think maybe this meant that there would be PBR (every drag's fav beer) and perhaps new kinds of PBR, like PBR lighter and PHMR (Pabst Honorable Mention Ribbon! Imagine the bedazzled cans!). Upon completing the pilgrimage, I discovered that I was wrong about the PBR, but my mass of wooden tokens and plastic beer mug soon distracted me. We headed to the beer tent, which was past the notorious "Nancy's Cookies," past the age discriminatory bouncy houses, past the taco cart (that was also at soul food...ponder). So we drank some beer. But then what? The only thing to do seemed to be to drink more beer, or go to listen to the easy listening plaid-clad people singing about Ireland. So we drank more beer, in spite of our stomachs' feeling like we had just accidentally ate awkwardly shaped plundered dragon jewels, and still: so many tokens left.
And then, something silver caught our eye! Was it a superhero? The Silver Fox? A space ship? A silver snuggie? Even better: it was a Freaking Sweet Curly Fry Saw! a deceptively academic looking man punctured each Idaho Russet with his sweet saw (dirty!), leading to magic hordes of curly potato which are then stuck in a vat of oil. Delicious. Of course, these did nothing to offset the pain in our dragon tummies. And yet, there is only so long one can listen to easy listening before feeling like one is at the dentist, so we were faced with the epic task of drinking more beer. The well meaning beer pourers were supposed to pour to a certain line, but they more often than not would fill past the line, and the beer above the line was just another cross to bear. But then we were distracted from our task. Because. of. MURDER:
The ground was kind of muddy, because you know, Boise--land of the drags--is a rainforest and not a desert. As a result, a sad yet alive earthworm had surfaced amongst the slop--in the middle of one of the beer tents, right in a heavily trafficked area. I thought about intervening, but then I thought about Whale Wars and nature taking its course. Also my hands were full. At first the earthworm seemed to be coated with a magic force field--people were hitting everywhere but worm, as we, five feet away and helpless, yelled "Go Under Ground." And then a birkenstock delivered a crushing blow. The worm--cut in half. But wait: half of it was still alive, though separated from its body. We turned away in horror, but then turned back. We had come this far. We had to see how it all played out. Alas, the worm was eventually squished as some dbag STOPPED while stepping on the remaining alive portion. While tragic, this gave us drive to polish off all of our tokens and to complete our quest.
Take away moral: do not go to Beer Fest if you usually drink PBR.
Other advice: Do not get hit by lighting.
Do not go running when it's hailing even if you think it's funny.
Do not try to utilize a converter box, fail, and then realize you also don't remember how to set up your Dvd player/Xbox, rendering you, essentially, Amish.
Dragon Goodbye!
Pretty much every person who has killed a dragon, in addition to going straight to hell, knows that you have to go for the soft part of the belly with your rapier or cleaver. What some people do not know is that dragons also have sensitive tummys ON THE INSIDE. Example: Beerfest.
This dragon made her way through the stupidity of the disconnected Ann Morrison parking lot, with the Bud Light semi truck, akin to the North Star, beckoning in the distance as her guide. While I was dubious about Bud Light being included amongst the alleged 110 microbrews, I did think maybe this meant that there would be PBR (every drag's fav beer) and perhaps new kinds of PBR, like PBR lighter and PHMR (Pabst Honorable Mention Ribbon! Imagine the bedazzled cans!). Upon completing the pilgrimage, I discovered that I was wrong about the PBR, but my mass of wooden tokens and plastic beer mug soon distracted me. We headed to the beer tent, which was past the notorious "Nancy's Cookies," past the age discriminatory bouncy houses, past the taco cart (that was also at soul food...ponder). So we drank some beer. But then what? The only thing to do seemed to be to drink more beer, or go to listen to the easy listening plaid-clad people singing about Ireland. So we drank more beer, in spite of our stomachs' feeling like we had just accidentally ate awkwardly shaped plundered dragon jewels, and still: so many tokens left.
And then, something silver caught our eye! Was it a superhero? The Silver Fox? A space ship? A silver snuggie? Even better: it was a Freaking Sweet Curly Fry Saw! a deceptively academic looking man punctured each Idaho Russet with his sweet saw (dirty!), leading to magic hordes of curly potato which are then stuck in a vat of oil. Delicious. Of course, these did nothing to offset the pain in our dragon tummies. And yet, there is only so long one can listen to easy listening before feeling like one is at the dentist, so we were faced with the epic task of drinking more beer. The well meaning beer pourers were supposed to pour to a certain line, but they more often than not would fill past the line, and the beer above the line was just another cross to bear. But then we were distracted from our task. Because. of. MURDER:
The ground was kind of muddy, because you know, Boise--land of the drags--is a rainforest and not a desert. As a result, a sad yet alive earthworm had surfaced amongst the slop--in the middle of one of the beer tents, right in a heavily trafficked area. I thought about intervening, but then I thought about Whale Wars and nature taking its course. Also my hands were full. At first the earthworm seemed to be coated with a magic force field--people were hitting everywhere but worm, as we, five feet away and helpless, yelled "Go Under Ground." And then a birkenstock delivered a crushing blow. The worm--cut in half. But wait: half of it was still alive, though separated from its body. We turned away in horror, but then turned back. We had come this far. We had to see how it all played out. Alas, the worm was eventually squished as some dbag STOPPED while stepping on the remaining alive portion. While tragic, this gave us drive to polish off all of our tokens and to complete our quest.
Take away moral: do not go to Beer Fest if you usually drink PBR.
Other advice: Do not get hit by lighting.
Do not go running when it's hailing even if you think it's funny.
Do not try to utilize a converter box, fail, and then realize you also don't remember how to set up your Dvd player/Xbox, rendering you, essentially, Amish.
Dragon Goodbye!
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Nash out!
When I like to think about epic inventions, I think about the zipper, the wheel, the snuggie, and of course, the red box. Without the red box, I'm not sure I would be as versed as I am in what Hollywood has to offer, which in case you were wondering, is, um, a lot. Some people swear by the red box, while some people have no clue as to the joy it contains. (I liken it to quinoa in that way: a staple to some, a mystery to some.) In case you are one of the latter, the red box is essentially a vending machine for movies found at assorted grocery stores, McDonald's, and gas stations. You can get new releases for a dollar. Also, the red box is a large red box.
In any case, the red box has recently provided me with Steet Fighter: The Rise of Chun Li, and also Dragonball Evolution. These two movies left theaters before I had a chance to view them on the big screen, but I made sure to note in my trusty planner when they would be inserted into the red box and ready to fall into my clutches. These movies are alike in several key ways: a) they both connect back to my days of yore, b) they both contain ridiculous fight scenes, c) they both contain wise teachers who dispense wisdom about the fight coming from within, d) they are both really awesomely bad.
First, Street Fighter II. I have to start by saying that we played a lot of video games growing up. Street Fighter 2 Super was one of the games of my youth and Chun Li was my character. She was the less slutty of the two girls, had sweet buns, a magic rapid leg, and could throw fireballs. Also, her father was killed by M. Bison and she is trying to avenge his death. Pretty noble, right? Anyway, I was pretty unstoppable. It's always been a pet peeve of mine when girls say that they are good at video games (put that in your feminist pipe and smoke it) when they are usually terrible, but I'm telling you, I rarely lose with Chun Li. I spinning bird kicked my way through my brother who generally played with Ken (um, man crush, Kelly?) , through the dorms of Hamilton College and onward.
Now, the movie. There was Street Fighter One, which featured the OTHER V.D...... that would be J.C.V.D., so I mean, it's almost impossible to top that. I think he was Guile. In any case, Street Fighter Two focuses pretty much solely on Chun Li! My character!Perfect! Anyway, Chun Li is a concert pianist turned bad ass when M. Bison and Balrog (and Vega is thrown in there too) kidnap her father as part of their plans to take over the world. They eventually kill her father in front of her, but she has no time to be sad about that, even though it's the impetus for her mission, because there are always more asses to kick. The best part of this movie, however: Chris Klein. I always suspected that in Election he was essentially playing himself: sort of a doofus. But in Street Fighter, he is supposed to be a bad ass cop lady killer. It's like trying to ask dragons to not be bad ass. It's just not possible. The result: comedy gold. Although I saw this movie about a month ago, it is on my heart (just like a tattoo) now and forever thanks to Chris Klein.
Dragon Ball Evolution. Dragon Ball Z, the television show, has been on forever. I think it's one of those shows that gave kids seizures. Anyway, my brother used to watch it all the time, and by default, I had to do. Most of the time, people would fight by glowing and hurling glowingness at each other. Then there would be a lot of dust, the episode would end, and then the next episode you would find out what happened. What usually happened: some one died. But here is the thing: they always came back to life thanks to the freaking dragon balls. the dragon balls, like quantum physics, are beyond the scope of my intellect, but from what I understand, they bring people back to life occasionally. So the characters would constantly be killing each other, but most of the time it was all good because they always came back to life. In this movie, the evil Piccolo (who was good in the TV show, at least when I watched) is trying to collect the seven Dragon Balls to take over the world, while Goku (also, incidentally, upon the death of his wise and instructive grandfather at the hand of Piccolo) and his posse is trying to collect them as well, so they can save the world. This movie is a gem because a) Goku is foxy. FOXY!, b) Spike from Buffy is Piccolo, and c)because I don't know how the movie ends. I watch movies on an XBox 360 and it froze right before the big show down. The fact that I don't know whether the world has been saved only adds to my love of this film. Also, Piccolo is green and Piccolo sounds like Pickle, so there's that.
All I need now is a Chrono Trigger movie and another Mario movie.
In any case, the red box has recently provided me with Steet Fighter: The Rise of Chun Li, and also Dragonball Evolution. These two movies left theaters before I had a chance to view them on the big screen, but I made sure to note in my trusty planner when they would be inserted into the red box and ready to fall into my clutches. These movies are alike in several key ways: a) they both connect back to my days of yore, b) they both contain ridiculous fight scenes, c) they both contain wise teachers who dispense wisdom about the fight coming from within, d) they are both really awesomely bad.
First, Street Fighter II. I have to start by saying that we played a lot of video games growing up. Street Fighter 2 Super was one of the games of my youth and Chun Li was my character. She was the less slutty of the two girls, had sweet buns, a magic rapid leg, and could throw fireballs. Also, her father was killed by M. Bison and she is trying to avenge his death. Pretty noble, right? Anyway, I was pretty unstoppable. It's always been a pet peeve of mine when girls say that they are good at video games (put that in your feminist pipe and smoke it) when they are usually terrible, but I'm telling you, I rarely lose with Chun Li. I spinning bird kicked my way through my brother who generally played with Ken (um, man crush, Kelly?) , through the dorms of Hamilton College and onward.
Now, the movie. There was Street Fighter One, which featured the OTHER V.D...... that would be J.C.V.D., so I mean, it's almost impossible to top that. I think he was Guile. In any case, Street Fighter Two focuses pretty much solely on Chun Li! My character!Perfect! Anyway, Chun Li is a concert pianist turned bad ass when M. Bison and Balrog (and Vega is thrown in there too) kidnap her father as part of their plans to take over the world. They eventually kill her father in front of her, but she has no time to be sad about that, even though it's the impetus for her mission, because there are always more asses to kick. The best part of this movie, however: Chris Klein. I always suspected that in Election he was essentially playing himself: sort of a doofus. But in Street Fighter, he is supposed to be a bad ass cop lady killer. It's like trying to ask dragons to not be bad ass. It's just not possible. The result: comedy gold. Although I saw this movie about a month ago, it is on my heart (just like a tattoo) now and forever thanks to Chris Klein.
Dragon Ball Evolution. Dragon Ball Z, the television show, has been on forever. I think it's one of those shows that gave kids seizures. Anyway, my brother used to watch it all the time, and by default, I had to do. Most of the time, people would fight by glowing and hurling glowingness at each other. Then there would be a lot of dust, the episode would end, and then the next episode you would find out what happened. What usually happened: some one died. But here is the thing: they always came back to life thanks to the freaking dragon balls. the dragon balls, like quantum physics, are beyond the scope of my intellect, but from what I understand, they bring people back to life occasionally. So the characters would constantly be killing each other, but most of the time it was all good because they always came back to life. In this movie, the evil Piccolo (who was good in the TV show, at least when I watched) is trying to collect the seven Dragon Balls to take over the world, while Goku (also, incidentally, upon the death of his wise and instructive grandfather at the hand of Piccolo) and his posse is trying to collect them as well, so they can save the world. This movie is a gem because a) Goku is foxy. FOXY!, b) Spike from Buffy is Piccolo, and c)because I don't know how the movie ends. I watch movies on an XBox 360 and it froze right before the big show down. The fact that I don't know whether the world has been saved only adds to my love of this film. Also, Piccolo is green and Piccolo sounds like Pickle, so there's that.
All I need now is a Chrono Trigger movie and another Mario movie.
Friday, July 31, 2009
English 101: I want your badge, I want your weapon, & I want your ass.
So I’m going to admit something embarrassing…but I figure that’s sort of what this blog is for. Growing up, when I was four, five, six, seven years old, I had crushes on major actions stars. Many, many action stars. But in this case I’m going to discuss two in particular: Kurt Russell & Sylvester Stalone.
As far as these youthful loves were concerned, it was Kurt Russell in Overboard wearing a freakishly nipple bearing tank top &, even more prominently was Rambo who made regular appearances in my pre-tween dreams. (A re-occuring dream, in fact, where I climbed big, big cliffs from which I inevitably fell… into muscular & somewhat sweaty Rambo’s arms.)
In honor of these once upon a time crushes, I whimsically checked out Tango & Cash from the library. I was actually there to return books & checked the movie aisles while I was there. It felt… I don’t know… right. Nostalgic. Sure, I’m smart enough to know it’s not good, but I’m also young enough to feel affection for it. For the times when I was a young little girl, sitting on what was then my parent’s sectional sofa (they’ve since upgraded to a classy leather number), watching these two studlies go all shoot-em-up with my father. (He probably wouldn’t have called them studlies.)
So, I have this movie sitting by my television. I make a nice dinner, sit down, pour a glass of pinot noir. What to do next? I decide it’s laugh riot extravaganza time.
And the movie definitely delivers—everything from the exceptionally bad dialogue to Kurt Russell’s most hilariously large & funny shaped gun—but something is wrong. Dear Readers, please forgive me. This movie…ugh… I feel sick just saying this… somehow reminds me of why I was attracted to Kurt Russell. Sure, he still has the mullet & the too tight jeans & the awkwardly cut-up tee shirts. But there’s something—the jib of his chiseled jaw, his gristled facial hair, his squinty blue eyes. Something absurdly sexy about him. Sylvester too, somehow even better in a suit.
In neither case does it last. Their charms wear off in about three minutes. But the movie? Well that continues to be charming.
Sylvester plays Tango, the bourgoise, stock-broking copper with over-sized biceps & a tailored suit—not in it for the dough, but the justice. Kurt plays Cash, your regular, blue-collar dick, the kind who likes his mirror image & has a chip on his shoulder.
They’re framed for murder by the Asian drug-lord they’ve both been catching in the swindle. They plea bargain & go to prison, supposedly minimum security, but instead they’re sent to general population. They both glisten like angels as, in the grand tradition of prison movies, they are attacked by their fellow inmates (dipped in electrified pools of water) & then escape (sliding down electric cables hanging onto their belts for dear life-- this movie is, shall we say, electric?) on a mission to prove their innocence. Which, after many explosions, they do.
Notable dialogue:
“When this is over remind me to rip this guy’s throat out.” ~Cash
“With a tow truck.” ~Tango
“When this is over we have to pay Java the Hut here a visit.” ~Tango
“I’ll bring the chainsaw.” ~Cash
“I’ll bring the beer.” ~Tango
“Can I be frank? I think you’re looking terribly anemic. I think what you need (sound of gun cocking) is a little iron in your diet.” ~Tango
Dragon News:
Thomas Edison was definitely a dragon.
Nikola Tesla was definitely a dragon.
I’m pretty sure their electrical battles were Dragon Wars!
PS. This post was sponsored by Steven Seagall, General Electric, & D-Wars (the movie).
Much love!
As far as these youthful loves were concerned, it was Kurt Russell in Overboard wearing a freakishly nipple bearing tank top &, even more prominently was Rambo who made regular appearances in my pre-tween dreams. (A re-occuring dream, in fact, where I climbed big, big cliffs from which I inevitably fell… into muscular & somewhat sweaty Rambo’s arms.)
In honor of these once upon a time crushes, I whimsically checked out Tango & Cash from the library. I was actually there to return books & checked the movie aisles while I was there. It felt… I don’t know… right. Nostalgic. Sure, I’m smart enough to know it’s not good, but I’m also young enough to feel affection for it. For the times when I was a young little girl, sitting on what was then my parent’s sectional sofa (they’ve since upgraded to a classy leather number), watching these two studlies go all shoot-em-up with my father. (He probably wouldn’t have called them studlies.)
So, I have this movie sitting by my television. I make a nice dinner, sit down, pour a glass of pinot noir. What to do next? I decide it’s laugh riot extravaganza time.
And the movie definitely delivers—everything from the exceptionally bad dialogue to Kurt Russell’s most hilariously large & funny shaped gun—but something is wrong. Dear Readers, please forgive me. This movie…ugh… I feel sick just saying this… somehow reminds me of why I was attracted to Kurt Russell. Sure, he still has the mullet & the too tight jeans & the awkwardly cut-up tee shirts. But there’s something—the jib of his chiseled jaw, his gristled facial hair, his squinty blue eyes. Something absurdly sexy about him. Sylvester too, somehow even better in a suit.
In neither case does it last. Their charms wear off in about three minutes. But the movie? Well that continues to be charming.
Sylvester plays Tango, the bourgoise, stock-broking copper with over-sized biceps & a tailored suit—not in it for the dough, but the justice. Kurt plays Cash, your regular, blue-collar dick, the kind who likes his mirror image & has a chip on his shoulder.
They’re framed for murder by the Asian drug-lord they’ve both been catching in the swindle. They plea bargain & go to prison, supposedly minimum security, but instead they’re sent to general population. They both glisten like angels as, in the grand tradition of prison movies, they are attacked by their fellow inmates (dipped in electrified pools of water) & then escape (sliding down electric cables hanging onto their belts for dear life-- this movie is, shall we say, electric?) on a mission to prove their innocence. Which, after many explosions, they do.
Notable dialogue:
“When this is over remind me to rip this guy’s throat out.” ~Cash
“With a tow truck.” ~Tango
“When this is over we have to pay Java the Hut here a visit.” ~Tango
“I’ll bring the chainsaw.” ~Cash
“I’ll bring the beer.” ~Tango
“Can I be frank? I think you’re looking terribly anemic. I think what you need (sound of gun cocking) is a little iron in your diet.” ~Tango
Dragon News:
Thomas Edison was definitely a dragon.
Nikola Tesla was definitely a dragon.
I’m pretty sure their electrical battles were Dragon Wars!
PS. This post was sponsored by Steven Seagall, General Electric, & D-Wars (the movie).
Much love!
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
you have to straddle the ball, mandy!
Post title courtesy of my mother.
While playing mini golf. That seems important.
This drag is about to fly away to Idaho after a long hiatus.
Things that I have done over the course of the break: drank about 15 iced coffees from Dunkin Donuts, adopted a moose (Wubbie), purchased a zebra print snuggie, used the weirdest toilet ever, drank a lot of Sam Adams, and pondered my future while watching assorted movies on the lifetime movie channel. What a gem of a station! A GEM! Career options brainstormed:
1)snuggie maker for drags.
2) Make Target establish a "greeter" position ala Walmart and pretty much push anyone down the stairs ala showgirls who attempted to vie for the position.
3.) romance novel authoress. I was at Target with my brother (who is trying to take over my blog) buying a snuggie, which apparently was embarressing for him (i guess it's weird to vana white the snuggie in the parking lot and ask assorted dunkin donuts [iced coffee!] employees and pedestrians if they liked my purchase). But I made us walk down the book aisle (okay. aisles. sort of.) so I could get self-righteous about twilight or tori spelling or anita shreve, and I saw a romance novel entitled: Your Ranch or Mine?
.........perfect! I was thinking I could do a spin off with dragons and do Your Castle or Mine, and then Your Cave or Mine (imagine the covers on those, readers!), and things could get lucrative and I could do Your Yacht or Mine (for Connecticut residents) and Your Ice Cream Truck or Mine (for pedophiles!) And I could keep going! Forever!
I also was skulking about and found all of these awesome poems I wrote in intro poetry in college. I was so angsty! Why didn't anyone tell me? This is a line from one of the poems:
You put things into boxes and I'm caustic, caustic.
There is more where that came from. Trust me. Listen to that sweet assonance--or whatever it's called! I also found all of these papers that I wrote about Chaucer and I tricked my mom into reading them. So now she is all atwitter about the Manciple and the Squire. Backfire.
I don't even know what I'm talking about. I was going to frame this using a movie like one ms. amber nelson, but the only thing I saw besides Stella Got her Groove Back (lifetime movie channel! i am telling you! pure gold!) was Harry Pottah. This resulted in the purchase of an "I'd get sleezy for Ron Weasley shirt".
Idaho tomorrow. Dragon high five!
While playing mini golf. That seems important.
This drag is about to fly away to Idaho after a long hiatus.
Things that I have done over the course of the break: drank about 15 iced coffees from Dunkin Donuts, adopted a moose (Wubbie), purchased a zebra print snuggie, used the weirdest toilet ever, drank a lot of Sam Adams, and pondered my future while watching assorted movies on the lifetime movie channel. What a gem of a station! A GEM! Career options brainstormed:
1)snuggie maker for drags.
2) Make Target establish a "greeter" position ala Walmart and pretty much push anyone down the stairs ala showgirls who attempted to vie for the position.
3.) romance novel authoress. I was at Target with my brother (who is trying to take over my blog) buying a snuggie, which apparently was embarressing for him (i guess it's weird to vana white the snuggie in the parking lot and ask assorted dunkin donuts [iced coffee!] employees and pedestrians if they liked my purchase). But I made us walk down the book aisle (okay. aisles. sort of.) so I could get self-righteous about twilight or tori spelling or anita shreve, and I saw a romance novel entitled: Your Ranch or Mine?
.........perfect! I was thinking I could do a spin off with dragons and do Your Castle or Mine, and then Your Cave or Mine (imagine the covers on those, readers!), and things could get lucrative and I could do Your Yacht or Mine (for Connecticut residents) and Your Ice Cream Truck or Mine (for pedophiles!) And I could keep going! Forever!
I also was skulking about and found all of these awesome poems I wrote in intro poetry in college. I was so angsty! Why didn't anyone tell me? This is a line from one of the poems:
You put things into boxes and I'm caustic, caustic.
There is more where that came from. Trust me. Listen to that sweet assonance--or whatever it's called! I also found all of these papers that I wrote about Chaucer and I tricked my mom into reading them. So now she is all atwitter about the Manciple and the Squire. Backfire.
I don't even know what I'm talking about. I was going to frame this using a movie like one ms. amber nelson, but the only thing I saw besides Stella Got her Groove Back (lifetime movie channel! i am telling you! pure gold!) was Harry Pottah. This resulted in the purchase of an "I'd get sleezy for Ron Weasley shirt".
Idaho tomorrow. Dragon high five!
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