Well, back to dancing in my undies… (Duh! It’s my Work At Home day! Obviously!)

$0.02 ain’t what it used to be…

Regarding Watergate, Tom Cruise-style:

For the record, I would have been colossally pissed off, too. I thought he handled himself well, under the circumstances. That was INCREDIBLY rude, crazy TomKat notwithstanding.

“Why would you do that?”
Punk!y Faux Cameraman shrugs.
“Why?! You’re a jerk…”

Me? At this point, I would have had to break out some of my mad ninja skillz. Obviously.

Then again, I should probably mention that I do not take practical jokes particularly well. Ask TGIM. He has the scars to prove it. No, literally. Uh-oh. Better not go there…

*sigh*

Stupid Ashton Kutcher for stupidly Punk!ing celebrities, inspiring half-assed British wannabe Punk!ers to, um, er, stupidly attempt to Punk! celebrities… while said celebrities are trying to work…

Aw, forget it. You know what I mean.

(ETA: If you feel as if, gosh darn it all, you need just a tad more information to make a well-informed decision regarding your feelings about Watergate, Tom Cruise-style, feel free to click here. Okay. My work here is done.)

Monday Blahs = Not-So-Random Movie Quotes

Against my better judgement, I finally saw Mean Girls this weekend. I’ve resisted like crazy, what with The Lohan and all, but since Amanda Seyfried is in it– AKA: Lily Kane? on Veronica Mars? the murdered best friend? okay, why are you STARING?!– I felt myself inexorably pulled to the Dark Side that IS the Lindsay Lohan flick.

But, like, oh my gawsh, y’all? This movie TOTALLY brought the funny. Tina Fey (SNL-Weekend Update) balances some admittedly cartoonish gags with plenty o’ cleverness, so even the bit characters are surprisingly hilarious. Well, maybe not SO surprising as quite a few of them are actual comedians who work with Tina on SNL (Ana Gasteyer, Amy Poehler, and Tim Meadows).

Since I haven’t had a good “Random Movie Quotes” post in a while, the following are some of my favorite quotes from this movie. Feel free to browse around. Or not. Whatev. I just had to share.

* * * * *

Homeschooled Boy: And on the third day, God created the Remington bolt-action rifle, so that Man could fight the dinosaurs… and the homosexuals.
His Homeschooled Brothers: Amen!

[Mr. Duvall is introducing Cady to the class]
Mr. Duvall: Her name is Cady. Cady Heron. Where are you, Cady?
Cady: That’s me. It’s pronounced like Katie.
Mr. Duvall: My apologies. I have a nephew named Anfernee, and I know how mad he gets when I call him Anthony. Almost as mad as I get when I think about the fact that my sister named him Anfernee.

Coach Carr: At your age, you’re going to have a lot of urges. You’re going to want to take off your clothes, and touch each other. But if you do touch each other, you will get Chlamydia… and die.

Karen: [suspiciously, to Cady] If you’re from Africa, why are you white?
Gretchen: Oh my God, Karen, you can’t just ask people why they’re white.

Coach Carr: Don’t have sex, because you will get pregnant and die! Don’t have sex in the missionary position, don’t have sex standing up, just don’t do it, okay? Promise?! Okay, now everybody take some rubbers.

Karen: You know who’s looking fine tonight? Seth Mosakowski.
Gretchen: Okay, you did not just say that.
Karen: What? He’s a good kisser.
Gretchen: He’s your cousin.
Karen: Yeah, but he’s my first cousin.
Gretchen: Right.
Karen: So, you have your cousins, and then you have your first cousins, and then you have your second cousins…
Gretchen: No, honey, uh-uh.
Karen: That’s not right, is it?
Gretchen: That is so not right.

Regina: Oh my God, I love your skirt! Where did you get it?
Lea Edwards: It was my mom’s in the ’80s.
Regina: Vintage, so adorable.
Lea Edwards: Thanks.
Regina: [after girl walks away] That is the ugliest effing skirt I’ve ever seen.

Oh, and the short, Middle Eastern, rap-obsessed Mathlete-slash-”Bad-Ass MC” at the Holiday Talent Show? Best. Rap. Ever.

Kevin Gnapoor: [rapping] Yo Yo Yo! All you sucka MCs ain’t got nothin’ on me! From my grades, to my lines you can’t touch Kevin G! I’m a mathlete, so nerd is inferred, but forget what you heard I’m like James Bond the third, sh-sh-sh-shaken not stirred - I’m Kevin Gnapoor! The G’s silent when I sneak through your door. And make love to your woman on the bathroom floor. I don’t play it like Shaggy, you’ll know it was me. Cause the next time you see her she’ll be like, OOH! KEVIN G!
[cut off]
Mr. Duvall: Thank you Kevin, that’s enough!
Kevin Gnapoor: Happy holidays everybody!

Heh.

Done now.

Hey, Dad! HOW! DO! YOU! FEEL?!

Wow. I cannot tell you how relieved and happy and grateful I am today that my Daddy is still around, you know? My heart goes out to any who have lost a father, that is for damn sure. I can’t imagine what today would be like…Way to scare the crap out of us, Dad! Glad you’re feeling better! Love ya!

Heh. My dad? Is such a cutie. Unfortunately, the only picture I have as proof of his utter cuteness is the camera phone ID picture I snapped last year. I wish I had my pictures… Wait. Can you believe everything I OWN is still in storage in Arizona?! Seriously, like, all my STUFF?! Everything?! Almost 2500 miles away?! No stuff here?! Nada?! It’s all the way across the United States of Freaking America?! Are we INSANE?! Hmmm… It’s quite possible we are, actually. Or WAY cheap. Okay. Fine. We’re way cheap. *sigh* U-Haul is freaking expensive, yo?

But still… my Dad? CUTE! See?:

(And, yes, if you were wondering, that is TGIM making bunny ears in the background. GOSH. Dork! Happy Father’s Day to you, too, you freak! Love ya!)

Oooooh, all this Daddy Cuteness reminds me of a story. Oh, yes it DOES. Maybe it’s that innocent, cute little smile on his face. I’m not quite sure. Regardless, make yourselves comfy, y’all…

A Very Special Father’s Day Story Time with Cat:

When I was 16 and used to cheerlead at the basketball games (Whatever. Like you hadn’t already totally figured that out about me… Stop looking at me like that!), we had this SUPER cute call-back cheer we did, you know, to encourage crowd involvement and overall school spirit and shizz? We would turn to the crowd and shout out, “Hey, Badgers! How do you feel?!” and they would stand up and shout back, “We feel good! Oh! We feel so good! UH!” with an exuberant hip thrust thrown in. It was awesome. Because an enthusiastic and well-executed community hip thrust is the ultimate in school spirit, y’all. It’s, like, cheerleading GOLD. No, seriously. A thing of beauty. And crowds of hyped-up teenagers LOVE that crap. Ask anyone.

Anywhos, my father, in all his cuteness, would sit in the crowd waiting anxiously for a lull. And when that lull inevitably came, as lulls inevitably DO, he would stand in the bleachers, cup his hands around his mouth, and shout out, “HEEEEEEEEEYYYY! CHEEEEEEEERRLEADEEERS! HOW! DO! YOU! FEEEEEEEEEL?!”

Well, of course, we had to turn to the crowd and shout back, “We feel good! Oh! We feel so good! UH!”– hip thrust and all. It was required. I mean, we couldn’t just ignore it. That would be sacrilege, right? And WAY rude.

My cheer friends would giggle as we turned back to the game and whisper to me, “You’re dad is so cute!”

Cute, huh?

A moment later, a familiar voice would again echo across the courts, “HEEEEEEEEEYYYY! CHEEEEEEEERRLEADEEERS! HOW! DO! YOU! FEEEEEEEEEL?!”

We would look at each other and shrug. Well, I may have rolled my eyes. Perhaps.

“We feel good! Oh! We feel so good! UH!”

After the fifth time my lovely Pater would stand in the bleachers and shout, in, oh, say, a FIVE MINUTE TIME FRAME, my “Uh!” would be more like an “AAARRRGGGGHHH!” and my face would be burning as with the fiery hot flames of the damned and I would cheer– oh yes, I would!– whilst smilingly planning imminent retribution in the form of Chinese water torture or perhaps The Sneer.

Cute, Dad. REAL CUTE.

Thinking back, I guess I should just be thankful the man was not up on his pop culture and was therefore oblivious to the thrall of “We Will Rock You” or we’d have had him stomping in the stands screaming, “You got mud on yo’ face! You big disgrace! Kickin’ your can all over the place! We will, we will, ROCK YOU!!”

*shudder*

Funny thing is, my friends honestly thought it was cute. They would often tease me about how funny and cute they thought my dad was. And though I would not have admitted it for all the Aqua Net and hair crimping irons in Prescott, nay, nor for all the fluorescent gel-strapped Swatch watches in Switzerland (or as many as I could cram onto one, thin little wrist, anyway…), truthfully? Though I would not have breathed a word then, it always made me feel happy– special– that he was there, watching. Paying attention. Being my dad. And though I often sneered, and was all, “Daaaaaaaaad! STOOOOOOOOOOOOP!!!” and wished for the earth to swallow me up the frickin’ TWELFTH time he would shout “Hey, Cheerleaders!” at us, I never loved him more.

So, Dad? When my children complain about me screaming, “Woo-hoo! You GO, girl! Drop it like it’s HAWT!” at their ballet recitals, or “Oh, YES! He got GAME!” at chess club tournaments, I will make sure they know that I only do it because I love them and it is ALL YOUR FAULT.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad.

Lookit! Lookit!

Prrrrreeeeettttttyyyyyy… and scruffy, too! RAWR!

(Obsessed? Me?! Duh.)

What? Me? Worry?

My sister called me last night. Apparently my father had another heart attack, a mild one, while partying it up in Laughlin, Nevada, but he says the doctors at the hospital are “taking good care” of him. I am still trying to get a hold of my Mom, she being the more forthcoming parental unit, but she must be out gambling away my inheritance with Grandma. Damn slot machines and their alluring cha-ching wiles… TURN ON YOUR FREAKING CELL PHONE, MOM!

Worried, much? Me? Nah.

Sheesh.

(ETA: Apparently, he is in SURGERY today! At this moment! At a hospital! In an operating room! Somewhere in AZ! And still no call from my mommy! Yikes. Well, hello there, gastrointestinal distress… where YOU been?)

(E again TA: Yay! He’s out of surgery, got a brand spankin’ new stint in there, and he’s doing just fine. Thank God. And thank YOU guys for all your good vibes/prayers. I know my daddy felt them; he said as much. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…)