T3T: Let's go to the movies! Again and again and again.

Ah glorious Thursday, you’ve finally arrived. I’m one Jeans Day away from the weekend. A weekend in which I refuse to move. Seriously. Try, just try to rip me from my couch; I dare ya. I shall sleep and doze and DVR and veg and not drive. At. All.

And now to the matter at hand: Top Three Thursday, Favorite Movie Series Edition. (Time out. I love the word “series.” Don’t ask me why in particular. I don’t know. There just seems to be such a sense of occasion that comes along with it. We should take a note from the Brits and call our TV “seasons,” “series”. I think it’d be way better. Time in.)

Harry Potter Series

I'm what one would call a dork. I'm not saying that I'd dress in a cape with a lightening bolt on my forehead or anything, but...I do get quite giddy at the mentioning of a new HP movie. Yes, I own all of the DVDs. Harry Potter is one of the few movies that I actually buy new. New, as in I don't dig them out of a bin. Or discounted from a bankrupt movie rental franchise. They are awesome and deserve full royalties. Additional dorky side note: A Very Potter Sequel premieres on YouTube tonight!! Oh m'gah so excited. I told you how awesome a Very Potter Musical was. Have you watched it yet? No? What the hell is wrong with you. It's amazing. Come on. Get with it.

Kevin Smith Awesomeness

So they're not necessarily a "series" but there's so much crossover and referencing from one movie to the other...It totally counts. I think Dogma may have been the first I saw, and I was hooked from there. I even like Chasing Amy. Hey, I'll even watch Jersey Girl when it comes on TBS. That's what one would call a "fan." What may be even better than the movies are the commentaries. And the Evenings with Kevin Smith. I found the second one at Big Lots for $3. Helloooo, winner. These are my people: quick witted and dirty minds (and mouths). Love it.

Star Wars: The Original Trilogy

Remember how I said I was a dork? Yeah, that applies to this choice as well. But I'm picky with my dorkiness. Episodes 1-3 can suck it. George Lucas should be put down for what he did to this series. Come on now; no way Ewan McGregor is Obi-Wan. He was in Down with Love for goodness sake... Jar Jar Binks? Screw you. Empire is definitely my favorite, and as much as I love Clerks and Kevin Smith, Randal was wrong. Jedi had way more than just a bunch of muppets. And Ewoks are adorable. So there.

I know I'm not doing any of these justice, but I've got my first quinoa experience awaiting me. Yes, I'm actually going to cook, and since I won't be able to use the microwave or toaster oven I've got to get it going if I want to eat before bed time.

Lord, I was born a ramblin' (wo)man

So this isn’t really a blog about anything—Just an assortment of thoughts and ramblings that keep wading in the lazy river that has been my mind for the past few days.

-Am so tired. Don’t think I’ll ever be untired again. Haven’t felt awake in a good four days. The thought of napping in my favorite bathroom stall makes me giddy with anticipation, but I don’t go through with it because people look at you funny when you emerge after an hour long trip to the john. Go figure.

-Yesterday I held open a door for a woman during my long trek into the bowels of the office. She complimented the pattern on my dress. I said thank you. She then says how she has started to sew. I say I never have. She looks at me funny. Did she think I made my dress? Because if so I think Ross should give me my $15.99 back. And I really want to find her and tell her if I were actually going to make my own clothes I certainly wouldn’t use a poly-blend. I’m just cheap, not intentionally tacky.

-My beliefs that I’m not ready for a serious relationship have only strengthened this past week. For the past two nights dinner has consisted of a random collection of food stuffs that require at max, the use of a toaster oven. Most often they’ve been eaten off paper towels because I don’t want to do dishes and I forgot to buy paper plates. My cat has also been excessively annoying. He meows. A lot. Locked him out of my bathroom this morning just to get a door between us. Have gone to bed at 9:30 for the past three nights. I have a feeling if I had a steady man friend he would expect dinners that require a stove and plates and I’m pretty sure his presence would be more prominent than my cat. Oh, and he probably wouldn’t want to go to bed the same time as a 10 year old. Eff.

-Ever religiously follow blogs of people you don’t know but truly believe that if you ever met you’d be life-long friends? No? Yeah…me neither. Seriously though—these ladies are awesome:

The New Old Biddy: Found her through Jenna Fisher’s blog. She commented on how funny the Biddy’s Project Runway recaps were. Love Project Runway. Love snark. She won me over instantly. It was PR that reeled me in, but it was her love of tea, bacon and happy fists that made me stay. She hasn’t blogged in a while. I miss her… (And yes, she is my blog’s namesake)

Fat Bridesmaid: No idea how I got linked to her blog. Honestly can’t remember. I just know that in her “About Me” she confessed her love for It’s a Wonderful Life, nutella, The Office and the semi-colon and her hatred of low water pressure showers and wine snobs. This girl is me.

Pink-Spandex: Two friends that write a blog together. Found them when I went in search of a picture of Gus Pike from Avonlea for my T3T topic a few weeks ago. Google Images led me to their blog as the source of the picture and it was from a post entitled “TV Characters We’d Make Out With,“ included but not limited to: Trent Lane (Daria), Jim Halpert, Neil Patrick Harris and Jason Segal (HIMYM), Eric (The Little Mermaid), Ned (Pushing Daisies), Bob (Biggest Loser), Spike (Buffy the Vampire Slayer) and Jacob (Twilight). How could I not immediately love them? Danke, Google Images. Danke.

The sad part is that I’ve never made contact with these women. Ok, I’d occasionally comment on the Biddy’s recaps and I think I commented once on one of FB’s posts. But more often than not I’m a “lurker.” Apparently that means stalker in blog-ese. Whatev. I’m just a curious bystander amused by their lives and kick ass writing style who secretly wants to be friends. Ok, ok, that does sound like a lurker. That’s cool. I’ll own it. Viva la lurk!

So I have this theory...

That the little girl from the Pepsi commercials--You know who I'm talkin about. She was adorable.

Had a sex change operation in the early 2000s and became this guy:

The kid from Adventureland and Zombieland.

Check it: same hair, dimples, chin. Her last real movie was Beautiful (ya know, an unconvincing "early 20s" Minnie Driver wanted to be Miss America but got knocked up so she made her best friend raise her kid so she could be a snot-nosed-glitter-eye-shadow-wearing beauty queen who ultimately learns the value of family and declares her love and paternity for said curly head kid). His first real movie was Squid and the Whale. That's plenty of time for the scars to heal and the hormones to kick in.

Totally plausible. Yes? I think so.

Post blogging update: A little research to find out their names and um...They're brother and sister. Meet Hallie Kate and Jessie Eisenberg. Craziness. I still think my theory's more fun.

Ahoy, Wardrobe Fail!

Sometimes it’s so big a fail…It’s awesome. Not awesome in the way that the person clothed in the shrouds of ridiculousness should feel elated and proud of her misjudgment, but awesome in the way that her fashion miscalculation makes my frickin day.

Let me paint you a lil picture. It’s Wednesday. And the media team has a meeting with some direct response sales reps coming in from Atlanta. They’re wearing suits. I remembered said meeting and forewent an outfit requiring leggings and wore something more business casual and less “rebelling against corporate America.” A certain supervisor, who was scheduled to attend said meeting as well, though…she did not. She was dressed as if she were about to head up to the Lido Deck for a rousing round of limbo before attending the Carnival Cruise Line Theater of the Stars Broadway Melody. Like Carmen Miranda on casual Friday. Like psychedelic embarrassment personified.




It was glorious. What could be better (or worse) than a middle age woman in tight white pants, ill-fitting flowered sandals and a sheer, flowing, poofy sleeved shirt with swirls of mind numbing colors of Crayola Big Pack proportions. The ultimate though is that this blinding offense to my aesthetic standards came paired with a head alarmingly similar to a red haired Billie Jean King.





Ah, the staunch contrast is mesmerizing. And delightfully hilarious. Oh happy day.

On a completely separate note, I have something very serious to discuss. Thanks to my lovely Sister, this has been stuck in my head all the live long day.

I’ve been screaming “It’s sho flufffyyy!!” in my head and giggling to myself all day. People at work are starting to stare. This is no bueno, people. (Who am I kidding. It’s muy bueno. I’ll endure the stares; it’s worth it.)

Also, a select few may have noticed that I did not participate in the habitual Top 3 Thursday this week, and it was really for your benefit. This week it was top three talents we wished we had. And we all know I would have prattled on for pages on end about my desires for:

-Musical greatness so I could spend the rest of my years on Broadway
-Mad dance skills so I could be a double threat on said Broadway
-Master time traveler so I could use the aforementioned talent to go back in time, make myself 18, go on So You Think You Can Dance and seduce Kent Boyd with my mind blowin moves and knowledge of the ways of the world.

Seriously. I saved you from taking a part in some major, major delusions.

Happy Friday, everybody!

Now I'm gonna go get my Marc Cohn on.
Ya know..."Walkin in Memphis"?
He sang it.
Oh whatevs, I'm headed to Memphis for the weekend. It's gonna be awesome.

Latest Lurvs and Losers

So I checked out my blog recaps for this month and am majorly disappointed in myself. Nothing but acronym titles. Must diversify my blog vernacular. And since it’s been a while since I professed my love for out-of-reach-TV-personalities (i.e. Biggest Loser Sam and his glistening clavicle nom nom nom), I figure it’s time to approach the subject again.

Ok…This first one is a long time coming. And the fact that I’ve fallen asleep to Glee the past few nights and had a mini DVR’d Glee marathon on my off day Monday only fueled the fire.

Kurt Hummel.

My inner gay teenage boy is absolutely in lurv with Kurt. He wants to snurggle by a fire and listen to Liza while donned solely in Dior grey cashmere. Seriously. Glee needs to put the Rachel and Finn Variety Hour on pause and give the Kurt One Man Show a try. Want to know why New Directions (Ever hear that phonetically? nood-er-ec-shons. Dirty.) didn’t win Regionals? Because they didn’t let Kurt sing. He was totally silent. Uncool. Did they not catch his rendition of Rose’s Turn? Big big winner.

Oh, and whenever those big red eyes swell up with tears…Oh. I melt. Lurv.

Kent Boyd.

Yes, from So You Think You Can Dance. Yes, he’s 18. Yes, he’s a complete goofball from Nowheresville, USA. Do I lurv him? …..yes. I mean, I just wanna ball him up and stuff him in my pocket. And after this week. Man. (See below. Watch. Fall in lurv. Continue reading.) I just wanna go back in time to where I was 18 so it’s ok for me to swoon this much. It’s not healthy for a grown woman to want to go to prom with Kent. But I do. I’d live in Wapakoneta. Ohio seems cool. It’s fine! Oh precious…

Some Guy From Austin

Um, yeah. He’s a blogger. He recaps the Bachelor, Bachelorette (which I haven’t watched all season, but feel like I have because I continue to read his blog…) and (when it was still a reality) More to Love. And he is wonderful. Witty and funny and chock full of grammar knowledge. Apparently what attracts me to a man is a hearty vocabulary. No idea what he looks like, how old he is or if he actually lives in Austin. His first name might be Dennis. I lurv him a little bit.

And on the opposite end of the spectrum…We have Top Chef Kevin Sbraga.

He’s just got this weird baby-man-face and it freaks me out. I don’t like it. Plus I think it’s time for him to pack his knives and go. His presence is just excessive. He reminds me too much of creepy squishy-faced Miguel from the first season. I can’t trust a man whose eyes get lost in his cheeks. Freaky.

Oh, and in the spirit of Fashion Fail Friday…I saw a woman in Rocket Dog flip flops yesterday. Ya know. The chunky ones. Popular circa 1999. Worn by the cool chick in Napoleon Dynamite. There’s no place for that much foam rubber in casual footwear. Buhhhh.

T3T: Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

No, it’s not Sidney Poitier or Ashton Kutcher (the 2005 bastardized answer to that question). Those listed below are the ultimate dinner guests of yours truly. Although, I must insist that Sister be there with me for this meal, because upon each’s arrival I’m sure I’d lose all control of my vocal and social functions and would need her assistance in not making an ass out of myself. Or she could be there with the sole function of to be as socially awkward as I. So I wouldn’t feel as bad. Plus she’d dig these folks too. Break out the wine, tapas, amuse bouches and silver napkin rings, folks. Let the dinner party begin!

David Sedaris

Yes. How many times do I have to tell you people that we are destined to meet and become instantaneous friends and collaborators? It’s going to happen. If only in my imaginary dinner party, it’s going to happen. Ok. I'll cease the Dave talk. For a while. Until my next blog. Because I love him. So awesome. How have you not read his collected works yet? Come on friends, hop on the train; it's a fun ride.

Mandy Patinkin

Ah, my musical love. No osso bucco for you, Mandy. Your job here is to sing and sing good! “In Lily’s Eyes” one more time please. Dave will fill in for Robert Westenberg on the harmonies. Just ignore him if he slips into his Billie Holliday impression. It’s part of his charm; go with it. I guess I can be nice and let him eat while I’m making Sedaris read my manuscript (which I would have written by the time this imaginary party rolls around), but I’ll be expecting appearances from both Inigo Montoya and that delusional kid he played in Yentl who actually believed Barbra Streisand was a dude. I lurv Yiddish. And mustaches. And Broadway. So there’s no way he can fail me.

Elvis

Presley, not Costello. Hunka-hunka-burnin-love-me-tender Elvis. Ahhh. But I’m not saying just any Elvis. This is a special occasion, damn it and I’m getting my favorite: the ’68 Special Leather Clad Edition. [insert swoon] He’s just too handsome. Too too handsome. And sultry. And nummy. And wonderful. And suave. [insert swoon again] All throughout my trek of Graceland, I just kept muttering, “It’s not fair. It’s not fair.” Adrienne would ask what wasn’t fair, and the answer of course was that I didn’t get to live in a world with a leather-clad Elvis. Well screw you, space and time restrictions. Elvis is coming to my house.

Honorable Mentions

Taylor Lautner. Shirtless. He can sit in the corner. Nom nom nom.

Ann Coulter. Just imagine what I could slip into her drink. Oh the damage that could be done. I could feed her hallucinogen after hallucinogen until she believes she’s a staunch liberal with no desire to ever write an effing book or go on Larry King ever again. It’d be amazing.

Katherine Hepburn. I pride myself on my Katharine Hepburn impression and I think with her in the room I could really perfect that twanged warble she’s got goin on (or more appropriately, *had* going on). Oh, and I love her. Move aside Winona Ryder, KH is the real Jo March. And she never got arrested for shoplifting. Booyah.

FFF

Ah Fashion Fail Friday strikes again. And what am I griping about today? That would be these strange, chunky, hoof-inducing sandals that are making their way into the footwear norm. I swear whenever I see them, I don't see girls in shoes, I see girls that might as well be quadrupeds making their way to the starting gate at the Kentucky Derby. Clomp. Clomp. Clomp.

Now, am I just jealous, because I know if I were to strap on these strange tools of torture and embarrassment I'd resemble Bambi just learning to walk (with thicker calves)? Perhaps.






But it's not just the shoe; it's the where. Where these clod hoppers are worn. If you want to try out some new footwear for a night on the town. Go for it. Your blisters, not mine. Your broken ankle after the 4th vodka tonic, not mine. But when I see these paired with khakis short shorts in the electronic section of Wal-Mart...Something has gown awry. These shoes do not belong anywhere near a Wal-Mart. No no no. These are not discount-shopping-rolling-back-prices-smiley-face-logo shoes. House shoes. Birkenstocks. Timberlands. Barefoot. All Wal-Mart approved apparel. Platform gladiator sandals? NO. Gimme a break, chica...

And while I've got you here, let me just say: Public restrooms are not dressing rooms or locker rooms. (Yes, I'm back on my bathroom etiquette kick. I'd stop if the ridiculousness would.) Yesterday I walk into my bathroom at work and find some new girl with her dress hiked up, adjusting her slip. Um. Awkward. There was no reaction from her whatsoever. No "Oops, I got caught flashing my underwear. [insert embarrassed smile])" None of that. Newbie, we're not that kind of people here. Put your clothes back on.

Ra-tard Moment of the Week: This thought actually passed through my brain, "Ya know, I love my hot tea but it's just too hot out. We get iced coffee, why can't I make iced teaaa..." I really tried to stop myself from finishing that sentence in my head. Tried really really hard. Was not successful. Ratard.

T3T: Kickin it Old School

I’m professing my love for this week’s T3T. I could talk about old school TV for hours. And hours. And, yes, hours. Wow I watched a lot of TV as a kid… But there was just so much good stuff out there—How could I not watch it? When I first found out about RetroJunk.com, I don’t think I was productive for a week. Excuse me, no. I can’t write my paper, I have to re-watch the intros to Jen and the Holograms, Hey Dude and Mr. Wizard’s World again. Busy! Needless to say, choices were difficult. But it must be done, so here we go:

Doug

Dear Journal,

It’s me, Doug.

Ah, Jim Jinkins I like you. Seriously. This is a great show. And I’m talking about the original Nickelodeon version. Not the one Disney destroyed by chopping off Patti’s hair (who do you think you are, maiming her perfectly wavy coiffure??) and forcing Porkchop to live in a teepee. Nickelodeon was the real deal. I mean, what didn’t we learn from Doug?

-Girls with condiments as surnames are always hottest.

-Best friends are the ones that make strange noises that you accept as the norm and eat hamburgers with.

-Green = Mean.

-It doesn’t matter if you wear the same thing every day because it’s hard enough being that awkward. Wardrobe is one less thing to worry about.

-Banjos are way cool.

-Beets are cooler than you would think. Beetball, anyone? “The Beets” (The day I figured out that the Beets were a play on the Beatles…I felt way smart. I felt in on a joke and I. Loved. It. [Yes, I was still a kid. Give me some credit]). I did however just realize that the sister in beret and sunglasses was a beatnik. Insert big “Ooooooooh” here.

How is there not a Tao of Doug? There is much to learn from a boy who dreams of being a superhero that wears underpants outside of his khakis. There’s brilliance in there somewhere.

Muppet Babies

To be completely honest, I love muppets in all forms. Straight to VHS cartoons, movies (Yeah, I own Muppets Take Manhattan. What?), Christmas specials, variety shows with Prince… (It happened. Gonzo wore ass-less chaps. Prince wore a letterman’s sweater. They sang “Raspberry Beret.”), but I especially loved Muppet Babies: unrequited love, torso-less Nanny, crazy-scary closets and countless Star Wars references. Frank Oz must’ve had major swing with the SW copyright… Tell me that nursery window doesn’t scream Millennium Falcon hitting hyperspace.

Yes, I'm a nerd. We should all know that by now.

Avonlea

Oh dear sweet baby Jesus, how I miss the Sunday night Wonderful World of Disney. Avonlea rocked. I was so in love with Gus, so wanted to be Sara Stanley and so wanted to kick Felicity King in the baby maker (snot nose little brat.). Somebody buy me this series and we’ll be best good friends.

Nom, nom, nom, nom...

Geez, now I just wanna go back in time, wear long linen aprons and lace up boots, live on Prince Edward Island and run through a field of wild flowers. Eff. So unattainable!

And whatever happened to the kid that played Felix? Did he or did he not get crazy hot by the last season? The answer in case you’re curious is, YAH. He did.

Speaking of, does anybody else remember that movie Looking for Miracles? Came on Disney. His older brother worked at a summer camp and brought him along. Little Felix got a cake made out of cardboard for his birthday. He cried and ran away? Ringing any bells?

Special side note to Disney: You used to produce wonderful things. Wonderful, glorious things. Now you have Wizards of Waverly Place. You just sit back and think about that. Come see me when you’re ready to apologize.