Just (re?)watched Evil Dead from 1981 with Bruce Campbell in it.
I feel like I have seen the movie before, but I hardly remembered it at all and I am glad I watched it again.
It was totally gross! but hilarious at the same time. Sam Raimi is a a B-movie genius.
Also, Bruce Campbell was sooooo frickin' young. Amazing.
Or, maybe the movie I am remembering is Army of Darkness. Is that the one he yells at some skeleton woman and calls her an evil bitch or something? Is there also a chainsaw in that one? So many horror movie chainsaws, it all runs together....like guts and mud and slime and ooze....gross.
I think that my favorite part of Evil Dead was probably the irritating/terrifying little girl cackling from the Bruce Campbell's girlfriend/zombie character. That was really creepy....the rest was basically special effects, but that lady's giggling and big open-eyed (albeit, open dead fish eyes), over-painted face really sent home the chills and erky factor.
I look forward to dreams of nibbled fingers and gushing eye sockets and lashing branches.
Actually, I think I will rinse my mind out a bit with a couple episodes of True Blood...ha (no, seriously).
Monday, August 29, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
For Reals, yo.
Ok, so that summer thing only lasted a solid week. Oh well! I got to visit the East Coast and sweat and feel stifled and sit out on the porch to catch a breeze and see the lightening bugs and listen to the cicadas and swat at mosquitoes....so it's all good, I suppose.
Other than that, I had some deeeeep thoughts on the plane ride home:
1). There is a gag reflex for the mouth, is there an equivalent for your other end?
2). When you are falling, you are actually weightless.
Let's discuss.
1). Is there some trigger in your lower digestive system that will possibly make you void its contents? This is nasty, but whatever. I was reading something about vomiting (why? probably just 'cause) and there is a kind of vomiting where your intestines spasm in the wrong direction, sending waste material into your stomach, and consequently, out through your mouth....like that South Park episode, sorta. Gross! imagine how many mints you would need to throw down to get rid of that aftertaste.
But, is there, like, a gag reflex for your butt? Like, some trigger area and Whoosh!, instant laxative? Ponder, ponder, ponder.
Why did I start thinking about this on the plane? Do you really want to know? No? whatever, I will tell you anyway. It's cause I was watching a middle-aged woman turn around to talk to the person behind her, while she half leaned, one knee in her seat, facing the opposite direction. My eyes were attracted to her fingers; fingers looking like precursors to arthritis. You know when it looks like someone's fingers are too long for the skin that binds them and they start to crook a bit and get tight at the ends? Anyway, so I was watching her sparkly rings squeezing her finger skin and I noticed what looked like chocolate on her index finger...which, of course, led me to wonder about the actual chemical composition of the substance and from whence it came...leading my brain alllll the way down, down, down to questioning a rectal gag reflex. I think the flight attendants came by with Lorna Doones just then and I was immediately distracted from thinking any further on the subject until now...mmmmmmm, Lorna Doones.
2). I actually figured this out through imagined scenarios in my head. I think I heard about it somewhere (maybe even physics class in high school!), but never quite understood it. You can not have weight unless you are still enough to be measured, on a surface of some sort, a gravity laden environment. If you are falling, you have no weight, because it can't be measured without slowing your fall. And then, if you are just slowing your fall, you are not measuring weight, but more like, gravity or speed or some other force. You can only measure weight before and after a fall, but not during.
But wait! This brings me to a whole, new perplexing question that could probably be easily answered through a quick google search! If you are in outer space, and you are holding 2 tons...no...hold on, just figured it out. That is, in fact the definition of being in outer space...being weightless...so no 2 ton anything. Nevermind! figured it out.
....cats are cutest when they are asleep on your lap-you see? how profound.
Looking forward to more oxygen-deprived, pressure-bound deep thoughts tomorrow. If I remember them, I shall post them.
Exciting! (maybe)
Other than that, I had some deeeeep thoughts on the plane ride home:
1). There is a gag reflex for the mouth, is there an equivalent for your other end?
2). When you are falling, you are actually weightless.
Let's discuss.
1). Is there some trigger in your lower digestive system that will possibly make you void its contents? This is nasty, but whatever. I was reading something about vomiting (why? probably just 'cause) and there is a kind of vomiting where your intestines spasm in the wrong direction, sending waste material into your stomach, and consequently, out through your mouth....like that South Park episode, sorta. Gross! imagine how many mints you would need to throw down to get rid of that aftertaste.
But, is there, like, a gag reflex for your butt? Like, some trigger area and Whoosh!, instant laxative? Ponder, ponder, ponder.
Why did I start thinking about this on the plane? Do you really want to know? No? whatever, I will tell you anyway. It's cause I was watching a middle-aged woman turn around to talk to the person behind her, while she half leaned, one knee in her seat, facing the opposite direction. My eyes were attracted to her fingers; fingers looking like precursors to arthritis. You know when it looks like someone's fingers are too long for the skin that binds them and they start to crook a bit and get tight at the ends? Anyway, so I was watching her sparkly rings squeezing her finger skin and I noticed what looked like chocolate on her index finger...which, of course, led me to wonder about the actual chemical composition of the substance and from whence it came...leading my brain alllll the way down, down, down to questioning a rectal gag reflex. I think the flight attendants came by with Lorna Doones just then and I was immediately distracted from thinking any further on the subject until now...mmmmmmm, Lorna Doones.
2). I actually figured this out through imagined scenarios in my head. I think I heard about it somewhere (maybe even physics class in high school!), but never quite understood it. You can not have weight unless you are still enough to be measured, on a surface of some sort, a gravity laden environment. If you are falling, you have no weight, because it can't be measured without slowing your fall. And then, if you are just slowing your fall, you are not measuring weight, but more like, gravity or speed or some other force. You can only measure weight before and after a fall, but not during.
But wait! This brings me to a whole, new perplexing question that could probably be easily answered through a quick google search! If you are in outer space, and you are holding 2 tons...no...hold on, just figured it out. That is, in fact the definition of being in outer space...being weightless...so no 2 ton anything. Nevermind! figured it out.
....cats are cutest when they are asleep on your lap-you see? how profound.
Looking forward to more oxygen-deprived, pressure-bound deep thoughts tomorrow. If I remember them, I shall post them.
Exciting! (maybe)
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
It's Summer!
There is a season going on in NoCal right now. It's terribly exciting. It is warm...like, REAL summer time warm here. In the upper 80's and, as usual, it's really amusing to see how the locals react to "weather".
Whilst on my neighborly walkabout, I witnessed a few signs of summer:
1) A group of hippies in the park, sitting in a circle, smoking weed and talking about nothing in particular. One of them started getting cheerfully agitated about someone who was acting stupid and not following orders from his family, when in danger. The rest of the hippies laughed and passed the dutchie on the left hand side...good summer fun...(they smelled rather ripe).
2) Exiting their home, a couple of near-to-middle-aged yuppies began a verbal altercation about the politics of shoving. Both of them seemed rather put out by warmth (and severe lack of air conditioning anywhere abouts these parts) and the woman decided to show her frustration by literally pushing her dude out the door. He, understandably, got pissed and spoke about how it was entirely not appropriate as an action to take in public just because she was cranky. Ahhhhhh, that summer sun.
3) Lady in an old Prius and lots of cute liberal bumperstickers espousing a "fighting Democrat" and Darwin fishes and the like, crawls up the street, assumedly looking for a certain house number and not using her reading glasses. Suddenly, there is a revving of engines as another Prius (new, red and shiny) has silently crept up behind her and the driver has just shown displeasure at her snail's pace by revving, honking and angrily pulling around her to zoom off to the stop sign. She, also now angry, screams out her open window, "F--- You!" and flustered, has to remember to stop the car and repossess herself so that she can make out more house numbers further along the block. New Prius, on the other hand, doesn't give a crap and tries to speed off from the stop sign to show her what what...only, you know, Prii don't really rev well in general and therefore, the New Prius sort of quietly turned the corner quickly and left the scene.
4) Cats get bored in the heat. Normally, they sleep all day, but when it's warm, they sleep double hard...except when they get bored and antsy. I saw at least two cats out on my rounds, just chilling out on the pavement, loving the even hotter cooking temperatures of the sun-warmed cement on their furry little bodies.
4.1) There is some sort of bird murder scene on the front lawn. I assume a cat was the "actor" (isn't that what cops call suspected bad guys now-adays?) but it could have easily been a dog. The victim appears to be a male scrub jay, or western blue jay of some sort. After examining the evidence, I could not find a body which further leads me to believe the actor was a cat. Plumage litters the lawn, bright blue feathers with black tips and fluffy grey under plumage feathers in bunches. I believe the victim was caught in our fig tree and perhaps, batted to the ground and tortured for a while before being dragged off home to show some proud (disgusted) owners/parents. My number one suspect is that naughty white cat with brown splotches down the street. He has been seen recently in the area, taunting the dog next door and he has been known in the past to start fights and flirt heavily with our two cats. Bad Kitty!...littering on my lawn...Bad!
5) Sweat.
Whilst on my neighborly walkabout, I witnessed a few signs of summer:
1) A group of hippies in the park, sitting in a circle, smoking weed and talking about nothing in particular. One of them started getting cheerfully agitated about someone who was acting stupid and not following orders from his family, when in danger. The rest of the hippies laughed and passed the dutchie on the left hand side...good summer fun...(they smelled rather ripe).
2) Exiting their home, a couple of near-to-middle-aged yuppies began a verbal altercation about the politics of shoving. Both of them seemed rather put out by warmth (and severe lack of air conditioning anywhere abouts these parts) and the woman decided to show her frustration by literally pushing her dude out the door. He, understandably, got pissed and spoke about how it was entirely not appropriate as an action to take in public just because she was cranky. Ahhhhhh, that summer sun.
3) Lady in an old Prius and lots of cute liberal bumperstickers espousing a "fighting Democrat" and Darwin fishes and the like, crawls up the street, assumedly looking for a certain house number and not using her reading glasses. Suddenly, there is a revving of engines as another Prius (new, red and shiny) has silently crept up behind her and the driver has just shown displeasure at her snail's pace by revving, honking and angrily pulling around her to zoom off to the stop sign. She, also now angry, screams out her open window, "F--- You!" and flustered, has to remember to stop the car and repossess herself so that she can make out more house numbers further along the block. New Prius, on the other hand, doesn't give a crap and tries to speed off from the stop sign to show her what what...only, you know, Prii don't really rev well in general and therefore, the New Prius sort of quietly turned the corner quickly and left the scene.
4) Cats get bored in the heat. Normally, they sleep all day, but when it's warm, they sleep double hard...except when they get bored and antsy. I saw at least two cats out on my rounds, just chilling out on the pavement, loving the even hotter cooking temperatures of the sun-warmed cement on their furry little bodies.
4.1) There is some sort of bird murder scene on the front lawn. I assume a cat was the "actor" (isn't that what cops call suspected bad guys now-adays?) but it could have easily been a dog. The victim appears to be a male scrub jay, or western blue jay of some sort. After examining the evidence, I could not find a body which further leads me to believe the actor was a cat. Plumage litters the lawn, bright blue feathers with black tips and fluffy grey under plumage feathers in bunches. I believe the victim was caught in our fig tree and perhaps, batted to the ground and tortured for a while before being dragged off home to show some proud (disgusted) owners/parents. My number one suspect is that naughty white cat with brown splotches down the street. He has been seen recently in the area, taunting the dog next door and he has been known in the past to start fights and flirt heavily with our two cats. Bad Kitty!...littering on my lawn...Bad!
5) Sweat.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Deeeeeep Thoughts
First of all:
We released a bunch of ladybugs into the garden tonight and I still feel like they are crawling on my skin and in my hair. They are not...but I still feel them. Fly! Fly my pretties!!! (Cackle cackle).
Second of all:
Watching a cheesy movie from the 50's and suddenly wondering how the field grass for battle scenes in movies is so short...'cause, natural fields have long grass. My theory is that people used to battle (shoot war movies) only on pastured land. This can't have always been so, right? But I suppose so in Europe it may have been the rule that any open land was being used as pasture. I wonder if any herds of sheep or cattle ever got caught up in battle?
Third of all:
I am thinking of making mac and cheese for tomorrow night. Being on a strict-ish budget, I will dip into the piggy bank to secure the necessary coins to purchase milk...as we ALWAYS have pounds of butter on hand and frozen peas and I don't need to worry about those.
Fourth of all:
Beet greens are just really beautiful. The deep red veins on the dark green leaf flesh is the perfect color contrast and design...good job, chaos theory/deity/random evolution...good job on that one.
Fifth of all:
Every time the neighbor goes up her stairs, I think it's the cats puking. So, apparently, cat puking has the same aural qualities as a lady's foot falls...We have also noticed this with women walking past on pavement, so it's not just wood. Very confusing! Kitties don't seem to care.
Sixth of all:
I freaking love tea.
Seventh of all:
That is all, please recommence procrastination.
We released a bunch of ladybugs into the garden tonight and I still feel like they are crawling on my skin and in my hair. They are not...but I still feel them. Fly! Fly my pretties!!! (Cackle cackle).
Second of all:
Watching a cheesy movie from the 50's and suddenly wondering how the field grass for battle scenes in movies is so short...'cause, natural fields have long grass. My theory is that people used to battle (shoot war movies) only on pastured land. This can't have always been so, right? But I suppose so in Europe it may have been the rule that any open land was being used as pasture. I wonder if any herds of sheep or cattle ever got caught up in battle?
Third of all:
I am thinking of making mac and cheese for tomorrow night. Being on a strict-ish budget, I will dip into the piggy bank to secure the necessary coins to purchase milk...as we ALWAYS have pounds of butter on hand and frozen peas and I don't need to worry about those.
Fourth of all:
Beet greens are just really beautiful. The deep red veins on the dark green leaf flesh is the perfect color contrast and design...good job, chaos theory/deity/random evolution...good job on that one.
Fifth of all:
Every time the neighbor goes up her stairs, I think it's the cats puking. So, apparently, cat puking has the same aural qualities as a lady's foot falls...We have also noticed this with women walking past on pavement, so it's not just wood. Very confusing! Kitties don't seem to care.
Sixth of all:
I freaking love tea.
Seventh of all:
That is all, please recommence procrastination.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
seasons?
Today, I decided that I was really missing out on all this East Coast weather sitting over here in the rather boring weather zone of Northern California.
I got in my car, rolled up the windows, turned off the AC and allowed the vehicle to get up to whatever temperature it would naturally get in the piercing sunshine. It was glorious! I haven't sweat from heat in two years, I think. I created a minor heatwave in my car, just driving to and from the doctor's office. It felt like real summer time, even if only for 15 minutes at a time. Even my arms were sweating.
I wonder what I can do in the "winter" here to approximate freezing temps and heavy snowfall?
Sticking my head in the freezer doesn't really cut it, you know?
I got in my car, rolled up the windows, turned off the AC and allowed the vehicle to get up to whatever temperature it would naturally get in the piercing sunshine. It was glorious! I haven't sweat from heat in two years, I think. I created a minor heatwave in my car, just driving to and from the doctor's office. It felt like real summer time, even if only for 15 minutes at a time. Even my arms were sweating.
I wonder what I can do in the "winter" here to approximate freezing temps and heavy snowfall?
Sticking my head in the freezer doesn't really cut it, you know?
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
mew?
Mr. Tufts tugged on his tie, the heat was getting to him. All the neighbors had gathered together to discuss the situation at the end of the block. Why they decided to hold this meeting indoors while it was a sweaty summer day, Tufts couldn't say. But, being a mild-mannered fellow, he kept his complaining to an understated wheezing, non-obvious adjustments to his person and silently sent death stares at the Hopps couple. Their home, he noted, was decked out exactly as he had imagined it; the walls in frightfully cheerful flower patterns, the carpet a dusty rose and all the sittable surfaces covered in plastic "to keep from all the hair, you know" Mrs. Hops had informed him as she noticed his stare upon entering. The refreshments, too, were rather to be expected with a pitcher of drink-the ice long melted-surrounded by some inedible looking little treats. He had been excited to see the spread, but as he had gotten close enough for a true inspection, he turned his back immediately and made his way to the most comfortable chair in the room to wait for the other to arrive.
Mrs. Hopps snapped a few times to bring attention to the front of the room as all the neighbors were beginning to create a ruckus with all the greetings and complaints already loudly being spoken.
"Ahem! ahem!" She called out, though the snaps had gotten everyone's attention. "Something, must be done about the situation in our sweet little burb" She twitched a bit, as did many there, at the mention of the meat of the meeting. Tufts thought to himself that at least the lady had just decided to get to the point instead of the rambling conversations she was more usually inclined to carry on. "Does anyone have any ideas on how to...solve this problem?" Immediately, Little Jack stood up. "Ah! the floor recognizes Mr. Little Jack" Confused at the formality, but full of fire, Little Jack began to bellow, "We burn the place down! It's insufferable! Kick them out and let them find their way somewheres else! I know they're holed up in that wreck, refusing to leave! We'll make them leave!"
"Oh, Jack, sit down!" Mr. Hopps had stood up now too. "No one's burning anything down and smoking anyone out or anything like that. We need real solutions, not mob-making sensationalized threats." Mr. Hopps smoothed down his mustache and called on Ruby, though she made no obvious movement to add to the discussion.
"Well," she said in a squeaky voice, "we have asked the authorities to help us out, and nothing has come of it. We have tried to talk with them inside and they refuse to answer the door. I suppose, even if Little Jack is a bit over the top-sorry, Jack-he is right in that we need to take matters into our own hands. Believe me, I live two doors down and the smells and the screeching coming from that place every night is just...is just...it just stinks!" Ruby sat back down, lashing back and forth in obvious annoyance and emotion.
"Yes, yes...but what should we do?" Asked Mr. Hopps again, this time in almost a whine.
"We should go out as a group and knock on their door and surround the place until they come out to talk reason about their property. They have to come out at some point and they will know exactly how we feel about the situation there! No burning to the ground required. Perhaps we can convince them to move out. We could even be helpful about it all and suggest a neighborhood intervention in cleaning the place up for them." Mr. Tufts had finally spoke up, surprising himself. The room all turned to look at him and a great grinning smile broke out on Mr. Hopps' face. "Brilliant idea! Brilliant! We should go now! We will have a siege of the situation house!" Mr. Tufts began to mumble alarmedly that he had not meant it be a siege...but he supposed that after all, that is what he had been saying.
The group all sprang from the Hopps' home and down the road, gathering in a circle around the situation house and starting a low drone of conversation with Mr. Hopps calling out to the folks inside, explaining the group's actions and what they hoped to gain from it. People made themselves comfortable on the pavement, happy to be out the stuffiness of the Hopps' living room and to be on the searing hot of the summertime pavement. The siege had begun and soon neighbors took to washing neighbors and themselves, napping, and swatting at small insects as the hours went on. Mr. Tufts had shed his suit and tie from work and was enjoying a bit of shade under a tall tree, absentmindedly flicking away the summer time flies. There were more of them than those inside, and therefore, they could outlast any waiting game. He smiled lazily, as he brushed down his coat again. This had truly become a glaring of cats.
Mrs. Hopps snapped a few times to bring attention to the front of the room as all the neighbors were beginning to create a ruckus with all the greetings and complaints already loudly being spoken.
"Ahem! ahem!" She called out, though the snaps had gotten everyone's attention. "Something, must be done about the situation in our sweet little burb" She twitched a bit, as did many there, at the mention of the meat of the meeting. Tufts thought to himself that at least the lady had just decided to get to the point instead of the rambling conversations she was more usually inclined to carry on. "Does anyone have any ideas on how to...solve this problem?" Immediately, Little Jack stood up. "Ah! the floor recognizes Mr. Little Jack" Confused at the formality, but full of fire, Little Jack began to bellow, "We burn the place down! It's insufferable! Kick them out and let them find their way somewheres else! I know they're holed up in that wreck, refusing to leave! We'll make them leave!"
"Oh, Jack, sit down!" Mr. Hopps had stood up now too. "No one's burning anything down and smoking anyone out or anything like that. We need real solutions, not mob-making sensationalized threats." Mr. Hopps smoothed down his mustache and called on Ruby, though she made no obvious movement to add to the discussion.
"Well," she said in a squeaky voice, "we have asked the authorities to help us out, and nothing has come of it. We have tried to talk with them inside and they refuse to answer the door. I suppose, even if Little Jack is a bit over the top-sorry, Jack-he is right in that we need to take matters into our own hands. Believe me, I live two doors down and the smells and the screeching coming from that place every night is just...is just...it just stinks!" Ruby sat back down, lashing back and forth in obvious annoyance and emotion.
"Yes, yes...but what should we do?" Asked Mr. Hopps again, this time in almost a whine.
"We should go out as a group and knock on their door and surround the place until they come out to talk reason about their property. They have to come out at some point and they will know exactly how we feel about the situation there! No burning to the ground required. Perhaps we can convince them to move out. We could even be helpful about it all and suggest a neighborhood intervention in cleaning the place up for them." Mr. Tufts had finally spoke up, surprising himself. The room all turned to look at him and a great grinning smile broke out on Mr. Hopps' face. "Brilliant idea! Brilliant! We should go now! We will have a siege of the situation house!" Mr. Tufts began to mumble alarmedly that he had not meant it be a siege...but he supposed that after all, that is what he had been saying.
The group all sprang from the Hopps' home and down the road, gathering in a circle around the situation house and starting a low drone of conversation with Mr. Hopps calling out to the folks inside, explaining the group's actions and what they hoped to gain from it. People made themselves comfortable on the pavement, happy to be out the stuffiness of the Hopps' living room and to be on the searing hot of the summertime pavement. The siege had begun and soon neighbors took to washing neighbors and themselves, napping, and swatting at small insects as the hours went on. Mr. Tufts had shed his suit and tie from work and was enjoying a bit of shade under a tall tree, absentmindedly flicking away the summer time flies. There were more of them than those inside, and therefore, they could outlast any waiting game. He smiled lazily, as he brushed down his coat again. This had truly become a glaring of cats.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Take that!
So there!
This time, I decided to live my life and go out and do things when the UPS person was supposed to arrive "at some point" today.
Of course, that meant that as soon as I stepped outside for 45 minutes, she came and left a little note on the door. But so what? I will just torture myself tomorrow instead, locking myself in between the hours of 10am and 2pm, according to her little note.
I declare this day free from all imprisonment by postal companies!
Huzzah huzzah huzzah!
(tomorrow's another matter)
This time, I decided to live my life and go out and do things when the UPS person was supposed to arrive "at some point" today.
Of course, that meant that as soon as I stepped outside for 45 minutes, she came and left a little note on the door. But so what? I will just torture myself tomorrow instead, locking myself in between the hours of 10am and 2pm, according to her little note.
I declare this day free from all imprisonment by postal companies!
Huzzah huzzah huzzah!
(tomorrow's another matter)
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