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bloodyrosemccoyAhh, post-holiday crash time. It was great to have my brother here, but when it’s for a visit, and when it’s the holidays, it’s also exhausting. (He seemed pretty tired by the end of the week, too.) On the other hand, going back to routine means going back to getting yelled at by angry patients or showing clueless patrons how to use the Scary New DVD Dispensinators.* Maybe I’ll stick with the exhausting holidays.
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MY SISTER: Whoa! Where’d Christmas go?!
ME: I don’t know. I woke up this morning and it had vanished. It’s like we got the Grinch a week late.
MY SISTER: Dude, if the Grinch had waited a week to steal Christmas, can you imagine how much those Whos would’ve paid him to do that very thing?
ME: Sure, the business is seasonal, but it’s quite lucrative!
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At least I can get the sewing machine up and running again now the tree is down. Rocket needs clothes—and fortunately, I have a whole wardrobe planned out for her. I may have to start with her nightshirt, since it’s pajama time at the Treehouse. But I’m looking forward to making her a flight suit. Not to mention shiny clothes. Lightning bolts all the way, baby!
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Speaking of dolls, I hereby decree that American Girl needs to quit bundling accessories in with big old furniture items. 2012’s unappealing Girl of the Year has a whole batch of little thingy-things that can only be gotten if you drop a chunk of money on her big loft bed. This time around I’m not really devastated—none of those items really catch my interest—but it’s an obnoxious trend. And it was rather frustrating a couple years ago when you could only get Lanie’s nifty cooking gear and food items if you bought her FORTY-POUND TRAILER CAMPER. Yeah, I may have a strange love for doll-sized accessories, but give me a break here.
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Just found out why that sad bloodhound next door hasn’t been howling lately: she fell over dead a couple weeks ago. I’m gonna miss that dog.
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Aside from the epic movie-watching experience of both Real Star Wars and Dumb Star Wars,** my brother finally got me to watch Memento, the inside-out and backwards movie. Stylistically it was a fun movie, enough to get past the idea that Everybody Is An Asshole just because figuring out the precise nature of everyone’s assholery still made it entertaining.
But the part I had really wanted to see was how they portrayed the concept of an acute case of anterograde amnesia. Leonard keeps insisting that he doesn’t have amnesia, but what he means is he doesn’t have Hollywood amnesia. Science-types note that Memento is one of just two movies that accurately portray a real form of amnesia. (The other? Finding Nemo.)
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I haven’t forgotten that y’all want the recipe for the awesome pizza I made the other night. And as soon as I figure out how the hell I made it, I’ll let you know.
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Fortunately, I have saved Skyward Sword for the post-holiday crash. Off to start that now.
*My sister has convinced me to watch Phineas and Ferb. That show should NOT be as damn entertaining as it is. I feel like some kind of Brony now.
**Mom on Emperor Palpatine in Return of the Jedi: "He reminds me of a lot of the nuns I had in Catholic school."
---
MY SISTER: Whoa! Where’d Christmas go?!
ME: I don’t know. I woke up this morning and it had vanished. It’s like we got the Grinch a week late.
MY SISTER: Dude, if the Grinch had waited a week to steal Christmas, can you imagine how much those Whos would’ve paid him to do that very thing?
ME: Sure, the business is seasonal, but it’s quite lucrative!
---
At least I can get the sewing machine up and running again now the tree is down. Rocket needs clothes—and fortunately, I have a whole wardrobe planned out for her. I may have to start with her nightshirt, since it’s pajama time at the Treehouse. But I’m looking forward to making her a flight suit. Not to mention shiny clothes. Lightning bolts all the way, baby!
---
Speaking of dolls, I hereby decree that American Girl needs to quit bundling accessories in with big old furniture items. 2012’s unappealing Girl of the Year has a whole batch of little thingy-things that can only be gotten if you drop a chunk of money on her big loft bed. This time around I’m not really devastated—none of those items really catch my interest—but it’s an obnoxious trend. And it was rather frustrating a couple years ago when you could only get Lanie’s nifty cooking gear and food items if you bought her FORTY-POUND TRAILER CAMPER. Yeah, I may have a strange love for doll-sized accessories, but give me a break here.
---
Just found out why that sad bloodhound next door hasn’t been howling lately: she fell over dead a couple weeks ago. I’m gonna miss that dog.
---
Aside from the epic movie-watching experience of both Real Star Wars and Dumb Star Wars,** my brother finally got me to watch Memento, the inside-out and backwards movie. Stylistically it was a fun movie, enough to get past the idea that Everybody Is An Asshole just because figuring out the precise nature of everyone’s assholery still made it entertaining.
But the part I had really wanted to see was how they portrayed the concept of an acute case of anterograde amnesia. Leonard keeps insisting that he doesn’t have amnesia, but what he means is he doesn’t have Hollywood amnesia. Science-types note that Memento is one of just two movies that accurately portray a real form of amnesia. (The other? Finding Nemo.)
---
I haven’t forgotten that y’all want the recipe for the awesome pizza I made the other night. And as soon as I figure out how the hell I made it, I’ll let you know.
---
Fortunately, I have saved Skyward Sword for the post-holiday crash. Off to start that now.
*My sister has convinced me to watch Phineas and Ferb. That show should NOT be as damn entertaining as it is. I feel like some kind of Brony now.
**Mom on Emperor Palpatine in Return of the Jedi: "He reminds me of a lot of the nuns I had in Catholic school."
