October 31, 2008
Why do people go so crazy with the Halloweeniness? Which is a word I just made up but am now rethinking?
Is it because we can say “Happy Halloween!” with no compunction about having perhaps offended someone who doesn’t celebrate Halloween? Someone who hates candy corn and all it stands for? Someone who has bizarre, grotesquely horrific nightmares because her delicate constitution can’t handle the horror flicks everyone else seems so fond of and everyone mocks her and stops inviting her to their stupid scary movie parties? (Hey! “The Shining” is freaking SCARY! Blood in the elevator shaft?! Totally clingy ghost twins?! And– oh, dear lord!– REDRUM?! Well that’s just great. Now I’m going to have NIGHTMARES. Thanks, Halloween!)
Sorry. My issues. Shut up or I will CUT YOU.
Or perhaps someone who maybe doesn’t believe in spooks, thank you very much? Like the Cowardly Lion? Although I would argue that Mr. C. Lion was in fact deathly afraid of spooks, but that is neither here nor there. Or here. Or over thataway. So whatever.
Because if that is the case, then whoa there, Nelly! Because Halloween? Hello Samhain meets All Saints’ Day meets All Souls’ Day! Hello, crazy jumbled pagan-meets-Christianity holiday celebration!
And let’s be honest… Putting aside the not-so-subtle undertones of religious syncretism, I can’t be the only person who sees that the so-called “holiday” totally promotes begging as a valid lifestyle choice, with parents actually ENCOURAGING their children to disguise themselves and importune the neighbors for candy! Right?! Shaking ’em down, right there at their very own door! I mean, what the..?!
And I’m not just saying this because a bag of Halloween candy costs just short of seven dollars. For ONE MEASLY BAG! Or because my kids come home with enough candy to keep them in sugar well through the new year. Nope. No, indeedy.
It’s the principle of the thing, is all.
October 24, 2008
This morning, as I waited patiently (I know, right?! Hush up… anyone who knows me. I DID!) PATIENTLY, I say, at the super secure Federal building at which I was to pick up my brand-spankin’ new (seriously, why “spankin'”? Who’s idea was that?!) super secure Federal ID, I couldn’t help but notice (okay, STARE, but you would have, too! It was mesmerizing, okay?! Don’t judge!) the ‘do on the older gentleman ahead of me.
Now, listen. I have nothing against bald people. Honestly. Bruce Willis? Patrick Stewart? Vin Diesel? Andre Agassi? Billy Zane? That guy who plays Lex Luther on Smallville? Britney Spears? And hello? GHANDI?! That’s right! Who’s shallow now, biznitches?! FACE!
Wait, so… what?
Oh! Balding dude! Or more acurately, Comb-over Guy. Oh. My. Lord. There was some SERIOUS comb-overage going on there, I tell you what. I fully admit to staring– just a little, mind you! or maybe a whole lot! whatever!– in wide-eyed wonder at the proficiency– nay, the sheer majesty!– of his crowning achievement! (ba dum bum).
And I thought, wow, that is a whole lot of hair he has going on there, to be able to trek from the base camp just above his left ear, traverse the summit, and make the LONG descent down the other side of his head, not stopping for a rest at the sideburns–oh no– or even the right ear–no lie– but making it all the way to just below his chin, where it fell exhausted and limp from the journey… not to mention what I perceived to be a healthy amount of hair product.
So, see? There were extenuating circumstances which obviously precluded me from any perception of rudeness. I’m only saying. Not rude! Just… mesmerized! By the majesty!
Of course, once all the Mount Kilimanjaro analogies dried up, all I could think was, “Oh, dear LORD. What does all that he has going on over there look like when he SHOWERS?!”
And, well, that just opened up another whole can of worms and gave me a (not so) funny, icky feeling in my tummy. Not to mention the scary visual image seared into my brain. But then I began to hum “Climb Every Mountain” and recalled that recent scene in “Pushing Daisies” where Kristin Chenoweth is at the nunnery singing her little heart out a la Julie Andrews in “The Sound of Music” and I felt MUCH better… until I could grab my brand-spankin’ new (really?! again with the spankin’?!) super secure Federal ID and get the HECK AWAY from the scary hair!
People, if you’re naked on top, but can weave a basket out of what you have going on on ONLY ONE SIDE of your head, please remember this… Bruce Willis shaved his head and got DEMI MOORE, okay? Are you hearing me? DEMI MOORE! Of course, her current husband has a TON of hair, but I think THAT relationship is less about hair and more about Demi’s obsession with staying freakishly hawt and young-looking forever and ever. And Ashton is ridiculously good-looking. And perhaps there is some sort of pact with the devil, but that’s just a guess.
In other news, it could be the Pop Tart talking, but I’m feeling spunky!
October 21, 2008
I’m just going to go ahead and say it. Just blurt it out. Unleash it into the blogosphere. Let it explode out of me the way occasional bouts of introspective verbal diarrhea have a way of doing at the most embarrasing times.
And, wow… There just is not enough “ew!” in the world for the mental picture THAT just conjured, I tell you what, but that is neither here nor there so I will persevere.
See, sometimes? I believe I am awesome. Chock full of the awesomeness. So awesome I can barely stand it! Chuck Bass awesome! I think, “Hey! How is it that I am THIS awesome?!” I write! I sing! I play my guitar! I make vidcasts! I enter contests! I jump out of planes! I swing on the trapeze! I teach my kids awesome things to do and say! And I post videos such as this in which I totally bestow my awesomeness on an unsuspecting, yet obviously pleasantly surprised, public! Because I am AWESOME! I mean, have you SEEN all my friends on Facebook?! I’m only saying.
And then it all falls apart.
I wake up one morning, fire up the iMac, click to my YouTube page to watch my awesome Dr. Horrible Evil League of Evil application one more time, confident in the knowledge that I WILL be chosen for the once-in-lifetime opportunity to be included in the special features section of the super awesome Dr. Horrible DVD. The video starts up, the intro music sends shivers of– what? excitement?– up my spine, but when my face pops up on the screen, my heart drops, freaking plummets, I tell you, and I think, “Oh. My. GOSH. What have I DONE?” I panic. I wish I could take it back. Take it all BACK. I’m not awesome! I’m a fraud! A loser! I made a music video while wearing pink goggles on my forehead! PINK GOGGLES! On my FOREHEAD! And I can’t SING! Or write MUSIC! What the HELL was I THINKING?! OH! EM! GEE! What if Joss Whedon actually SEES this?! I suck I suck I SUCK! (I totally suck.) Not to mention that OTHER people have, like, tens of hundreds of friends on Facebook! Which is a LOT!
And then I think of that quote from “When Harry Met Sally” when Sally tells Harry, “…AND I’m going to be forty!” and when he asks, “When?” she sobs, “Someday!” and I totally get it. Oh, I SO get it. Because it’s there. It’s just sitting there, like some big dead end. And time is passing and what am I doing? Really? Twittering? Jumping out of perfectly good airplanes? Playing around with my guitar? Filming myself acting the fool, not to even mention sporting pink goggles that totally clash with a blue-accented black rash guard? When I’m not even at the POOL?! Right?! There is no WATER for the pink goggles, people! How is that awesome? Do I really think I’m funny? Do I truly believe I have anything to offer? That I will ever write the great American novel or even have any kind of future as an observational humorist? Well?! DO I?!
At this point, no amount of affirmation, self or otherwise, can penetrate the gloom. My heart hurts and I wish I could crawl away and hide. I stop writing. I stop creating. I lose myself in (quality!) television and (totally awesome!) DS video games. I avoid novels because they make me believe that– perhaps!– I could write something even better and why set myself up like that? Do I really want to be That Person? The one who deludes herself? Like those super horrible American Idol contestants who no one ever had the cajones to grab by the shoulders, give ’em a shake, and sternly say, “Seriously? I love you, but you SUCK at the singing. For real! Even Paula thinks you suck, which HELLO?! Now cut that shit out!”
On one level, the rational one, I understand this is a phase. A mood. A momentary lapse of confidence in my utter awesomeness. But on another level, I just feel sad. Weary. Depressed. So totally lacking in the awesomeness. Awesomeless. Awesome light.
It’s moments such as this that I need to drag myself up off the floor of my I’m SO Not Awesome At ALL pity party, give myself a figurative “Pull it together, fool!” slap across the face, and look around. Take an interest in those who weren’t on the invite list to my party of one. TGIM. My kiddos. My family. My friends. Because even in the depths of self-pity, yes, even then! I understand that they don’t need any kind of proof of my awesomeness. They see it in me, the awesomeness, or see the lack thereof, yet they love me. Unconditionally. Yup. Pink goggles and all.
And that? Is totally awesome.
October 20, 2008
Twitter is sucking my will to blog.
Twitter is the Devil and must be destroyed. Also, Pokemon Diamond. Because ADDICTING?!
I’m only saying.
October 12, 2008
Unbefreakinglievable. I FINALLY posted a new TechnoGeekery episode! Right?! RIGHT?!
BOOM says the lady!
You can also CLICK HERE to watch at Chassy Cat’s YouTube.
In this episode, Chassy Cat makes up for lost time by answering several Burning Questions all within this one episode! Oh, and then there’s the “singing.”
Why yes, as a matter of fact I am using my sarcastic quotes. Whatever.
Also, my apologies to Instant Star. YOU know why.