Randi, Wes, and I all went to Disneyland and California Adventures this past week. We learned a lot - about love, life, "cast members," and pineapple whips. What is a whip? You just have to know. We played a lot of videogum-esque games in line, which Wes thought was the opposite of fun on a bun. But you know us bloggers (what?). Take the party game and make it about rides! Truly, we are the zenith of blogging (GRE vocab alert!).
Big Thunder Mountain: Mining operation run poorly; endangers workers and wildlife.
Space Mountain: Space is cold, full of nightlights and Moroccan techno.
Snow White: Dwarves mine while squirrels wash polos; witch half-heartedly threatens to push boulder.
The Matterhorn: Snow beast roars but does not engage hikers/bobsledders; basketball available on fifth floor.
Pirates of the Caribbean: Movie characters and old time drunks feebly set fire to port cities, rape; diners watch.
Indiana Jones: Truck driven by amateurs through empty tomb that smells bad.
Tower of Terror: Haunted elevator threatens to send you to alternate dimension; lets you off with a warning.
Soaring Over California: California fucking loves itself bad.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Rissa Haz a Birfday!
Monday, May 4, 2009
Jon and Kate + Hate
I minored in Blog Title Rhetoric at the U of A.
I prefer the "social magazine" Star because it gives me what I want in a page or less. Other 'zines (Us Weekly) think I want to read a National Geographic-length article about LoLo's breakdown, which is so incorrect. I want pictures. I am a pre-literacy baby, thirsty for colorful prints and not meaningless, petty spots on who forgot to wear makeup to their yoga class (blocked by their assistant!).
This is going somewhere? Oh yeah. The exception is once I bought an Us Weekly because they had an aforementioned at-length article on Jon and Kate's tenuous marriage. Finally, content worth the 3 minutes spent reading it. It mentioned that Kate was a KontrolMonster with terrible mom hair. Oh, and that Jon was probably leaving. Dur.
This made me ask myself - why do I not feel anything about this situation, other than the same feeling I get when I take my first bite of birthday cake? Oh yeah, I hate 1. mom hair 2. Kate and 3. parents of multiples who chose not to selectively reduce against the advice of doctors. What do they know? A decade of school and internships just to practice medicine? Psh. Clusters of unnaturally conceived cells are gifts from god. Little, asthmatic, underdeveloped and prematurely delivered gifts from a god who probably thinks that human women shouldn't have litters. A clutch of babies. A Sam's Club Box of Bebbehs.
Normally I would feel bad for Jon. He seems like an all right guy who just got into a bad situation. Like, the bad situation - a controlling wife driven to multiply, like that movie Species except less titillating. Probably zero titillation, in fact. After all, those babies were inserted, you know? His effort was minimal.
Except that he's a dumb frat boy. It would be hard to garner this information normally, but the low-content magazines of record are showing us so. Binge drinking, getting pictures taken with equally drunk college juniors, getting into cars with other women??? Jon, we all wanted to help a brother out. We all saw the despair on your face; we all recognized the death-is-the-only-respite dullness behind your eyes. Why, Jon? Why? Now you're that guy at the bar we're making fun of and creating some sort of novelty name for, like Mr. Pictures. And that's kind of irreversible. Not unlike that French rape film in reverse, Irreversible.
Now when they break up, we'll have to send all 8 kids to some recovery center like DogTown. They'll be caged for awhile, but then they'll let the handlers pet them through the fence, and eventually they can take them out on walks at the river. Aww, they're play fighting! Uh-oh, one of the near-sighted sextuplets is having an asthma attack. To be continued! Next week on DogTown...
Borked!
I prefer the "social magazine" Star because it gives me what I want in a page or less. Other 'zines (Us Weekly) think I want to read a National Geographic-length article about LoLo's breakdown, which is so incorrect. I want pictures. I am a pre-literacy baby, thirsty for colorful prints and not meaningless, petty spots on who forgot to wear makeup to their yoga class (blocked by their assistant!).
This is going somewhere? Oh yeah. The exception is once I bought an Us Weekly because they had an aforementioned at-length article on Jon and Kate's tenuous marriage. Finally, content worth the 3 minutes spent reading it. It mentioned that Kate was a KontrolMonster with terrible mom hair. Oh, and that Jon was probably leaving. Dur.
This made me ask myself - why do I not feel anything about this situation, other than the same feeling I get when I take my first bite of birthday cake? Oh yeah, I hate 1. mom hair 2. Kate and 3. parents of multiples who chose not to selectively reduce against the advice of doctors. What do they know? A decade of school and internships just to practice medicine? Psh. Clusters of unnaturally conceived cells are gifts from god. Little, asthmatic, underdeveloped and prematurely delivered gifts from a god who probably thinks that human women shouldn't have litters. A clutch of babies. A Sam's Club Box of Bebbehs.
Normally I would feel bad for Jon. He seems like an all right guy who just got into a bad situation. Like, the bad situation - a controlling wife driven to multiply, like that movie Species except less titillating. Probably zero titillation, in fact. After all, those babies were inserted, you know? His effort was minimal.
Except that he's a dumb frat boy. It would be hard to garner this information normally, but the low-content magazines of record are showing us so. Binge drinking, getting pictures taken with equally drunk college juniors, getting into cars with other women??? Jon, we all wanted to help a brother out. We all saw the despair on your face; we all recognized the death-is-the-only-respite dullness behind your eyes. Why, Jon? Why? Now you're that guy at the bar we're making fun of and creating some sort of novelty name for, like Mr. Pictures. And that's kind of irreversible. Not unlike that French rape film in reverse, Irreversible.
Now when they break up, we'll have to send all 8 kids to some recovery center like DogTown. They'll be caged for awhile, but then they'll let the handlers pet them through the fence, and eventually they can take them out on walks at the river. Aww, they're play fighting! Uh-oh, one of the near-sighted sextuplets is having an asthma attack. To be continued! Next week on DogTown...
Borked!
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
A Call to Arms
Randi - the time has come to blog again. Awake, slumbering blog giant!
I give you... the internet!
I give you... the internet!
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
I Should Have Gotten That H3 (With Truck Nuts!)
So today I paid $1.65 a gallon for gas. The dudes that drink nonfat soy lattes all day in a conference room somewhere and decide gas prices are really helping us out! Just a couple of months ago we were paying like $4.00 a gallon!
Now that gas prices are reasonable again, you know what this means...GASOLINE FIGHT!!!1!
Now that gas prices are reasonable again, you know what this means...GASOLINE FIGHT!!!1!
Monday, October 13, 2008
Most Flattering Picture - WINNER?!
So I was looking through my friend Lindsay's pictures from a trip to Disneyland that our creepy friend-family took last fall, when I stumbled upon probably the most most flattering picture yet.
The man looking at me like I'm making a completely normal face that he sees everyday of his life is my husband (WHOOPS, you married me).
The man looking at me like I'm making a completely normal face that he sees everyday of his life is my husband (WHOOPS, you married me).
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