Bless you Monstro.
Ripped from the pages of MySpace:
Current mood: awake
moar humorous pics
This made me giggle, but then I remembered what I was born: Is le bunny evil?
More importantly, which one are YOU?
Speaking of being born, Happy Birthday 2ndmouse!!!
2:16 AM – 0 Comments – 0 Kudos – Add Comment
Well the word is (and has been) out, Juno is up for 4 Oscar nominations.
That I’m even repeating it is almost a waste of fonts because you and everyone else (anyone who watches TV, or glances at magazines) already knows that right?
You’ve also already read your own fill of reviews and opinions and so on about it, so don’t worry about this being one of those posts either.
Actually, I don’t think I could write one if I even tried because I don’t remember the film. I saw it, I didn’t really care for it, and I’m pretty meh about the whole thing. I couldn’t even think of the stuff that didn’t do it for me when I saw it…bleh.
What I have noticed however is the amount of love and praise that’s going around about Jason Bateman.
You’re reading this and probably thinking, “Oh I loved him since, ” Arrested Development”!
If you’re an even bigger ***k, you’re saying to yourself (to prove your even harder pop culture knowing self, “Derek was the MAN on Silver Spoons!”
How do I know this? Call me,”King D**k. “
And, I think I like Mr. Jason Bateman quite a bit.
My feelings aside, how can I really tell? Or what’s more, how can you tell?
However you feel about Jason Batemen these days (You might even be of the party that is my BF and think, “Why are people even uttering the words Jason Batemen again?), before you decide which way you go Pro Bate or Anti Bate…
You might want to consider some of his other accomplishments (embarrassments) before you answer my questions.
Teen Wolf 2
How Can I Tell If I’m Really In Love?
(Because in the 80s we had Sam Malone to lead us on the right path)
“You’ve never played video games until you’ve played with the video game prince”
Out of the three, the last one probably disturbed me the most and I’m not sure why.
Because the Nintendo “computer” got a virus? Because Mr. Belvedere was called Mr. Belvedere, or because it’s frickin Mario Bros on ice! Aye…
I’ve said what I’m going to say for now. Now if you don’t mind, I’m off to swoon over taped episodes of “Valerie”
Some of you may or may not know, but editing and maintaining a blog is hard work.
Minutes of thinking, scribbling, collecting and so on are needed to keep the hungry beast that is WordPress fed.
You kind of have to do this thankless job with gusto and shamelessness too because the blog doesn’t and will not love you. The blog’s belly doesn’t take into consideration your time, your energy or other extracurricular activities. It just wants more, and more and more.
I tip my hat to all the bloggers out there, who feed the blog and never quit. The bloggers that roll up their sleeves and type into the wee hours in order to get the scoop before anyone else does (which is actually impossible). The blogger than thinks his meme will be the next BIG thing.
Yes, these are the sad bastards, er I mean great people that make your next episode of “Best Week Ever” before it’s even a day old.
Some of these are people who (if they aren’t already making a nice living out of it, or getting dates, publishing deals, or whatever else people use the blogs to get now) don’t mind using up their time (when it could have been used somewhere else), their energy (probably could’ve been spent on those abs they dream, but blog about instead) and a strong will (specifically in mind/concentration).
It’s too easy NOT to blog, so it’d be even easier not to edit one.
Believe it or not, but after looking over these things, I’m left questioning my own will.
It doesn’t happen all the time, but there are weak moments. They can catch me by surprise, they’ll show up between polo matches, interrupt discussions about Wittgenstein over games of backgammon, sometimes they fill in the voids between my days helping orphans, but worst of all, sometimes they come between me and hilarious commercials.
There not the kind of thoughts I want to have, they are certainly not the kind of ideas you want your editor to harbor, but there I am wondering:
Maybe I shouldn’t be a blogger/and blog editor. DUN DUN DUN!!!
Maybe I’m not doing enough of my part…
But that part–is it something that I can just change? Is it something beyond my means?
Apparently it is out of my hands…specifically when it’s been put into the hands of Internet scientists and physicians.
You may want to sit down for what I’m going to tell you next.
I’ve been (as have the staff of The NERD of HER!) diagnosed with a serious condition called RMS.
I’d tell you about it, but there is a really shiny thing flashing around just feet from here.
Yeah, I’m gonna go check that out. You can check this out and hit me back.
I don’t know if there is a Mac version yet either…oh pen envy.
[link via Milk & Cookies]
A regular night in the week might go a little something like this:
“Shoot him in the face. No the face!”
Barely restraining my energy and gusto, I even place my index finger directly on the television screen, tapping it the way most people might do so to pick out a piece of meat at the butcher shop or a diamond to a jeweler. Feel free to use whatever image works best for you.
My finger hits the screen with a force that makes it look like I have a clue, but it’s also not so hard that I’d have to buy a new set.
Incredible Hulk I am not.
“RIGHT THERE, babe.”
“Soldier down” the TV says back to me.
And a nice sigh probably followed.
Actually, I’m not really sure what happened because I have an attention span comparable to the longevity of Barbie shoes.
To begin with I probably wasn’t even paying total attention. What what?
That’s when I’ll blame the specie that is my gender, and her will to multi-task or take on varied roles. Good grief.
Read these like you’d read the label off a bottle of cleaning fluid that for purposes of this blog also looks like a game of Mad Libs:
____________ is self involved. ______________ enjoys activity of or pertaining to ____________’s interest. If ________________ is not playing a major part in _____________ not playing a video game I’m being some kind of annoying video game cheerleader.
Is that what it’s called?
Maybe I’m a coach. I do kind of feel like a coach. Most days I have a clip pad handy and I think I carry myself like a Pat Riley (mind you during 1987 Lakers).
Hmm…but maybe I’m that other thing…what’s it called?
Oh yeah, the annoying GF?
I guess I’ll go for a mix of the first two because when I step out of the room to check my email, I hear my BF calling me back to watch him play.
Would someone want the annoying thing gone to return?
He didn’t say he wanted me to bring him a drink either.
Walking back over to the living room you kind of almost want a good song to slip in and really set the mood for the moment, because for all the time that has passed, I still get all “Awww,” when he calls for me. (That’s maybe not so much the Riley part of me, but who knows).
My baby wants me to see him pick off Mexican Rebels (He’s playing Tom Clancy’s Ghost Recon Advanced Warfighter 2) in 128-bit glory.
And then I wonder what that’s all about too?
(A war contemporary with Mexicans? Well I’ll get to the game part later. )
Like any good coach, I’m tempted to call out a time out, and come up with a better strategy. I want to get into the head of the players too you know…
But before I even blow my whistle I figure–maybe it’s not so much thinking. Maybe it’s just base; like some kind of primordial thing going on. (?)
It’s the kind of instinct that harkens way back and deep into the crevices of the medulla oblongata (I’m more than sure game makers/technology super nerds/market strategists/Daytime show panelists are looking into).
A primordial thing in us, yeah?
Hey, cave guys probably called their GF’s away from picking berries to watch them club a bear right?
Looking at my BF play is like looking at my BF transform into the stuff he wants to be when he’s not having to be a regular person. (Which I suppose is the dream of any man one time or another.) He does it without even trying, it just happens.
Game pad in his had, it looks like it takes a hold of all his senses, while simultaneously making them more apt. That thing about the male mind be more designed for spatial activity, for math, and strategy (Along with acting like an ass on occasion), all of it looks like it comes into fruition when he plugs in.
Yep, my BF couldn’t be more at one with nature than when he’s glued to his PS3. I’m convinced of him even using all bits of that “6.5 more gray matter” got parts of that 6.5 than female brain.
From the movement of his hands and eyes, I know there are probably all sorts of spatial and analytical things going on even if there is only the sound of video artillery going off to pay me audio company, because he’s very quiet.
The silence is another sign of his hypnotized concentration.
I probably make that same face when “my stories” are on.
I say about five things. Maybe two or three words, (but because I have to answer myself, it kind of feels like more, ) before he finally breaks away and gives me something.
“This game is weird,” he says.
Could it be any weirder than me imagining and mentally mouthing off all kinds of male/female stereotypes?
He frowns a little.
Maybe he’s tired. Maybe he needs more cheering.
“Weird, how?” I reply.
More seconds of silence. More seconds of him tactfully maneuvering characters and pressing buttons.
It feels like his life bar is going down.
I want to put my clipboard down. In the seconds I looked away from the screen to study my BF’s gestures, the game got a lot more gruesome and challenging. (Ooh violence and is that an Abrams Main Battle Tank?)
I kind of want to play now actually.
I’m about to take hold of the extra game controller, when he stops the game abruptly.
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