Holy mother.
I have shit to do!
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I have shit to do!
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job
And they said it couldn't be done.
I just finished my third day of *drumroll* work.
Whoa.
That's right. Someone actually hired me. I'm a full blown employee. *Flashes badge (with cliched horrible picture)*
And the crazy thing? I am loving it.
Plus? Money.
I just don't know what I'll do with it. Oh, wait. Yes I do.
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Whoa.
That's right. Someone actually hired me. I'm a full blown employee. *Flashes badge (with cliched horrible picture)*
And the crazy thing? I am loving it.
Plus? Money.
I just don't know what I'll do with it. Oh, wait. Yes I do.
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i'm lazy,
sleep
*Yawn*
So, Ryan woke me up this morning a bit before seven. My first thought - omg it's Christmas! Which made absolutely no sense once I was fully conscious. Ryan suggested perhaps that was the last time I woke up that early.
Which I believed for about fifteen minutes. Then I remembered BCB and her early morning workouts.
Maybe it was the combo of the morning and the heat being on.
Or maybe I'm loca.
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Which I believed for about fifteen minutes. Then I remembered BCB and her early morning workouts.
Maybe it was the combo of the morning and the heat being on.
Or maybe I'm loca.
Princess
I always knew I was special.
I love that I tied on these two. Because if I had to describe me I'd be torn between someone who sleeps all day - oh, I'm sorry, "tranquil" - and a sarcastic girl employed by the devil.
Me in a nutshell, really.
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Thoughtful and loving. Authority figures probably have been sheltering you all of your life. Thankfully you're a very tranquil person who is content with what life has given you, but secretly you want to know how the outside world works.
Charming and witty. You are always the first person to come up with a wisecrack. Sure, you have an attitude, but that's why people love you. You keep them on their toes. Sometimes you can be misleading, but always end up doing the right thing for the people you love.
I love that I tied on these two. Because if I had to describe me I'd be torn between someone who sleeps all day - oh, I'm sorry, "tranquil" - and a sarcastic girl employed by the devil.
Me in a nutshell, really.
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celebs
__________.
OMG. Not only did I step out of the way for David Spade, almost maim Danny DeVito, watch my boyfriend get checked out by Mia Maestra, touch two people who have touched Michael Vartan, breathe the same air as Joshua Radin, shop at the Gap with the girl from Signs, but now -- to top it off -- I have followed __________. That's right. You heard me.
On our way back from Portland at 11:30 on Friday night, Ryan and I hit a wall o' traffic just north of 205. It was stopped dead. We, of course, assumed it was an accident (Ryan had odds on "drunk and under 25"). I made him pull to the right of the lane so I could crane my neck to see what I could see -- which was a crapload of police lights. Then, (twenty minutes later and) all of a sudden all three lanes started moving. We drove forward expecting to see something - like debris or flares -- but there was nothing.
...Until we began noticing that there were cop cars turning off their lights at every single exit. And the flashing lights were always in the distance ahead of us. We worked our way up and, sure enough, it was __________'s motorcade. Likewhoa. All the exits were being blocked so that __________ could have the freeway free of gaping/gawking/armed spectators. (Selfish prick. I wanted to go home!)
We followed the lights until the parkway, where we took our leave. We figured __________ would be staying at the Phoenix Grand, because, well, wth else would __________ stay? (And, please, like there's anywhere to go in Oregon south of Salem.) I mean, seriously... where did people like __________ stay before we had that hotel? The HoJo? Commercial was clear when we drove by, but when we turned off later we saw that there were cops blocking Liberty.
So, to make a long story short...
Anyone want to touch me so that they can brag to their friends?
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On our way back from Portland at 11:30 on Friday night, Ryan and I hit a wall o' traffic just north of 205. It was stopped dead. We, of course, assumed it was an accident (Ryan had odds on "drunk and under 25"). I made him pull to the right of the lane so I could crane my neck to see what I could see -- which was a crapload of police lights. Then, (twenty minutes later and) all of a sudden all three lanes started moving. We drove forward expecting to see something - like debris or flares -- but there was nothing.
...Until we began noticing that there were cop cars turning off their lights at every single exit. And the flashing lights were always in the distance ahead of us. We worked our way up and, sure enough, it was __________'s motorcade. Likewhoa. All the exits were being blocked so that __________ could have the freeway free of gaping/gawking/armed spectators. (Selfish prick. I wanted to go home!)
We followed the lights until the parkway, where we took our leave. We figured __________ would be staying at the Phoenix Grand, because, well, wth else would __________ stay? (And, please, like there's anywhere to go in Oregon south of Salem.) I mean, seriously... where did people like __________ stay before we had that hotel? The HoJo? Commercial was clear when we drove by, but when we turned off later we saw that there were cops blocking Liberty.
So, to make a long story short...
Anyone want to touch me so that they can brag to their friends?
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lappy,
recs
wtfbbq
So, um. They didn't kill Sly, they just messed with his head. Now, to turn him on I have to press the Windows key and the power at the same time. First of all - whuh? Second of all - how the hell does Ryan figure this shit out? (Although, I did always wonder wtf that key was for.)
Ps. Were I one of those super cool bloggers with throngs of adoring fans, I would use this as an opportunity to recommend that you all run - don't walk - to see Shoebox Shakespeare at Willamette University (this weekend only) because it is of teh awesome. But, since I'm well... not... I guess I'm just saying: Mom and Dad, go see it!
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Ps. Were I one of those super cool bloggers with throngs of adoring fans, I would use this as an opportunity to recommend that you all run - don't walk - to see Shoebox Shakespeare at Willamette University (this weekend only) because it is of teh awesome. But, since I'm well... not... I guess I'm just saying: Mom and Dad, go see it!
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lappy,
woe
*Sniffle*
Sylvester had a little accident that resulted in the loss of a USB port. (I swear - the poor fella is as sturdy as Christmas china. Jeeze.) I tried to exist for a while with only one port, and it wasn't too much of a hassle. Ideally, I'd have three, but I can survive with one. And really, I don't mind the indent shapped like my hand that has appeared on the palm-rest. Which is why, when Ryan suggested we send Sly off to meet his maker, I said, "NO!!!!!!!!! Please don't take my baby, please don't take my baby!"
Next time, I'll have to squeeze out some tears, because the begging and pleading didn't do the trick.
Sly was scooped up by the delivery man on Monday and in the interim I've been using the Lt. Colonel. This little airman is a bit fussy, but he means well and he can open a Word document as well as the next laptop, so we get along nicely. I totally owe Lauren for my sanity these past few days.
Even though I've had a substitute - a piece of me was always longing for Sly. He's got my bookmarks, he's got Firefox (who knew I would become dependent on tabbed browsing), he's got Photoshop and - let's be honest - a little piece of my heart. So, when the DHL delivery man came knocking on my door this morning I was absolutely ecstatic (as evidenced by the fact that my signature on the little electronic device looks less like my name and more like the flight path of a drunken bee). I tore him out of the box and threw open the lid. With a fond caress, I hit the power button.
Nothing.
Hmm. Perhaps the battery isn't charged.
I plugged it in and pressed the button.
Nothing.
Pressed it again.
Nothing.
Tapped my toe impatiently for twenty minutes. Pressed it again.
Nothing.
OMG! THEY KILLED SLY!
ETA: Yeah like normal people are supposed to know that you have to turn the battery on. Function F3, my ass.
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Next time, I'll have to squeeze out some tears, because the begging and pleading didn't do the trick.
Sly was scooped up by the delivery man on Monday and in the interim I've been using the Lt. Colonel. This little airman is a bit fussy, but he means well and he can open a Word document as well as the next laptop, so we get along nicely. I totally owe Lauren for my sanity these past few days.
Even though I've had a substitute - a piece of me was always longing for Sly. He's got my bookmarks, he's got Firefox (who knew I would become dependent on tabbed browsing), he's got Photoshop and - let's be honest - a little piece of my heart. So, when the DHL delivery man came knocking on my door this morning I was absolutely ecstatic (as evidenced by the fact that my signature on the little electronic device looks less like my name and more like the flight path of a drunken bee). I tore him out of the box and threw open the lid. With a fond caress, I hit the power button.
Nothing.
Hmm. Perhaps the battery isn't charged.
I plugged it in and pressed the button.
Nothing.
Pressed it again.
Nothing.
Tapped my toe impatiently for twenty minutes. Pressed it again.
Nothing.
OMG! THEY KILLED SLY!
ETA: Yeah like normal people are supposed to know that you have to turn the battery on. Function F3, my ass.
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woe
Should Have Been My Name
Today I drove to Portland to pick up my shoes (as I am too leet for Salem footwear). When I got to the store, I was helped by the same saleswoman who has helped me the last four times I have patronized said mercantile. This woman happens to be the aunt of my cousin's husband. I mean, we're practically blood... and yet - SHE DOESN'T REMEMBER ME. Gawd. Two of the times I have been in the store we spent at least half an hour together and every time she has gotten my name. But there wasn't even a spark of recognition. Even after I gave her my name - nothing.
I would like to assume that this is because she is horrible with names/faces or that her day is such a blur of brides that it's physically impossible to remember any of them, but I fear that argument holds little water. Firstly because I think I've seen another customer in there all of twice (and only one each time), secondly because omgwearerelated... but mostly because this is not the first time I have been forgotten.
Take, for example, the dude who played Terrorist #2 in Ryan's movie this summer. The first time I met him was his audition. We were in a room with three other people. Okay, fine. He might have been nervous and not paying attention to anyone who wasn't the director (though he did remember Ryan). I'll give him a pass on that. But the second time I met him we spent a little under two hours sitting next to each other at a table of six. He should have gotten it by then. The third time he should have at the very least recognized that he'd seen me somewhere before. But I'm guessing no recollection was there because he introduced himself to me yet again, to which Ryan said, "You've met." Terrorist #2 actually insisted, "No, we haven't."
These are not two isolated incidents.
I feel like Mr. Cellophane.
Maybe I should get a flashy button or something to distinguish me from my surroundings.
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I would like to assume that this is because she is horrible with names/faces or that her day is such a blur of brides that it's physically impossible to remember any of them, but I fear that argument holds little water. Firstly because I think I've seen another customer in there all of twice (and only one each time), secondly because omgwearerelated... but mostly because this is not the first time I have been forgotten.
Take, for example, the dude who played Terrorist #2 in Ryan's movie this summer. The first time I met him was his audition. We were in a room with three other people. Okay, fine. He might have been nervous and not paying attention to anyone who wasn't the director (though he did remember Ryan). I'll give him a pass on that. But the second time I met him we spent a little under two hours sitting next to each other at a table of six. He should have gotten it by then. The third time he should have at the very least recognized that he'd seen me somewhere before. But I'm guessing no recollection was there because he introduced himself to me yet again, to which Ryan said, "You've met." Terrorist #2 actually insisted, "No, we haven't."
These are not two isolated incidents.
I feel like Mr. Cellophane.
Maybe I should get a flashy button or something to distinguish me from my surroundings.
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i'm an idiot
Weeeee
Drunk grocery store = no more fun than sober grocery store.
Although, I did come home with two different types of ham.
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Although, I did come home with two different types of ham.
Like, OMG!
On Monday I decided that my hair was due for a change. And, since I'm not that adventurous, I decided my change would be [/drumroll] getting rid of the highlights I've had for as long as I can remember and dying my hair back to its original color. I know, I know. Slow down!
I asked Tina what she thought of the idea, because, as we all know, she won't do something she doesn't approve of. (Which I thank her for when I recall that time in the early nineties when I tried to get her to give me a pixie cut like Meg Ryan. *shudder*) She thought it was a good idea as long as she could put a bit of warmth in it. Otherwise she was afraid I'd look "drab." She's the expert, so I agreed.
She took a booklet of hair chunks and put them up to my roots until she settled on a match. And I watched - it really was a match.
So um. Now my hair is... how can I describe this... yeah, black. That pretty much covers it. Black with a little bit of red. I had absolutely no idea my hair was naturally this dark. I've been living with blonde highlights for so long that I don't even recognize myself in the mirror. Likewhoa.
Lauren says I should have streaks of blue like Veronica from the Archie comics.
Wow. This is such a girlie post.
ETA: OMG! I did not mean to imply that I didn't like my hair -- I LOVE it, in fact... I just didn't know I was naturally so dark.
On a different note: Whoa people actually read this?
*grins*
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I asked Tina what she thought of the idea, because, as we all know, she won't do something she doesn't approve of. (Which I thank her for when I recall that time in the early nineties when I tried to get her to give me a pixie cut like Meg Ryan. *shudder*) She thought it was a good idea as long as she could put a bit of warmth in it. Otherwise she was afraid I'd look "drab." She's the expert, so I agreed.
She took a booklet of hair chunks and put them up to my roots until she settled on a match. And I watched - it really was a match.
So um. Now my hair is... how can I describe this... yeah, black. That pretty much covers it. Black with a little bit of red. I had absolutely no idea my hair was naturally this dark. I've been living with blonde highlights for so long that I don't even recognize myself in the mirror. Likewhoa.
Lauren says I should have streaks of blue like Veronica from the Archie comics.
Wow. This is such a girlie post.
ETA: OMG! I did not mean to imply that I didn't like my hair -- I LOVE it, in fact... I just didn't know I was naturally so dark.
On a different note: Whoa people actually read this?
*grins*
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extended fam,
fam
Get thee to a door frame
Today sucked.
Adam is living in Poland now. *Wibble*
Airport!Quiznos didn't have tuna.
My iPod has reduced its battery life from two hours to two minutes.
My wedding shoes are three sizes too small and I'd have to totally Rogers and Hammerstein Cinderella my heel to fit in them.
I had to talk to a stranger on the phone.
Clio puked.
Ryan's at the library. Still.
But really...
The most terrifying part of the day...
Dad changed the radio station when "Do Wah Diddy" came on.
Isn't that a sign of the Apocalypse?
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Adam is living in Poland now. *Wibble*
Airport!Quiznos didn't have tuna.
My iPod has reduced its battery life from two hours to two minutes.
My wedding shoes are three sizes too small and I'd have to totally Rogers and Hammerstein Cinderella my heel to fit in them.
I had to talk to a stranger on the phone.
Clio puked.
Ryan's at the library. Still.
But really...
The most terrifying part of the day...
Dad changed the radio station when "Do Wah Diddy" came on.
Isn't that a sign of the Apocalypse?
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in sickness,
woe
Stop the world - I want to get off.
I woke up this morning, and on the ten foot trip from the bed to the bathroom I ran into the wall four times. My sense of balance is so completely whacked out it's like I'm on my own personal tilt-o-whirl. When I sit there's just a faint spinning going on in the front of my head, but when I stand - I feel as if someone popped some quarters in a magic-fingers bed. Not that I would know what that feels like. Totally hypothesizing here.
I've taken to walking like a bowlegged cowboy in order to keep myself grounded (when Ryan tossed his hat on my head the resemblance was uncanny). It's been a good five hours now, and I was hoping whatever this was would cure itself, but so far no luck.
Maybe I just wasn't supposed to wake up today?
I'm debating going to the store. Should you operate heavy machinery while on spin-cycle?
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I've taken to walking like a bowlegged cowboy in order to keep myself grounded (when Ryan tossed his hat on my head the resemblance was uncanny). It's been a good five hours now, and I was hoping whatever this was would cure itself, but so far no luck.
Maybe I just wasn't supposed to wake up today?
I'm debating going to the store. Should you operate heavy machinery while on spin-cycle?
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internets,
teevee
My two favorite things
...sorta. But WoW and EQ2 are totally interchangable in this instance.
Ps. Isn't she hot? You can totally see why she's my tv girlfriend, right?
ETA: OMG it's Stargate: Atlantis! How can people not know that?!?
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Ps. Isn't she hot? You can totally see why she's my tv girlfriend, right?
ETA: OMG it's Stargate: Atlantis! How can people not know that?!?
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dialogue,
i'm an idiot
Ding Dong
So, I was discussing with Ryan a discovery I had a few weeks ago: for me, small talk = lying. I have exceeded my allowance of little white lies at the checkout counter alone.
Checker: "Cooking is just so relaxing, isn't it?"
Allie: "Oh, yes, it's fantastic!"
Checker: "Isn't the rain horrible?"
Allie: "It's disgusting, really!"
I'm like a bobblehead doll that agrees with everything anyone says to me. And not only do I agree -- I expand.
Checker: "Don't you just love celery?"
Al: "It's my favorite green. The crunch it makes when you bite into it -- so satisfying. And really, what can't you put celery in?"
WTH? Do I like celery? Only doused in dressing. Do I know what you can or cannot put celery in? NO. I am such a tool.
But, after talking this over with Ryan, I have made a concerted effort not to be such a yes girl.
But, but... when the doorbell rings and it's a pair of Mormons -- what am I supposed to do?
"No, I don't want a picture of Jesus, thanks."
"No, I haven't found god, but really I don't have the time to go looking."
"No, I'm perfectly content without a seat at the table of the universe."
"No, I don't want help with my yard - brown was an aesthetic choice."
Ugh. Anyone want a picture of Jesus? I have a spare.
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Checker: "Cooking is just so relaxing, isn't it?"
Allie: "Oh, yes, it's fantastic!"
Checker: "Isn't the rain horrible?"
Allie: "It's disgusting, really!"
I'm like a bobblehead doll that agrees with everything anyone says to me. And not only do I agree -- I expand.
Checker: "Don't you just love celery?"
Al: "It's my favorite green. The crunch it makes when you bite into it -- so satisfying. And really, what can't you put celery in?"
WTH? Do I like celery? Only doused in dressing. Do I know what you can or cannot put celery in? NO. I am such a tool.
But, after talking this over with Ryan, I have made a concerted effort not to be such a yes girl.
But, but... when the doorbell rings and it's a pair of Mormons -- what am I supposed to do?
"No, I don't want a picture of Jesus, thanks."
"No, I haven't found god, but really I don't have the time to go looking."
"No, I'm perfectly content without a seat at the table of the universe."
"No, I don't want help with my yard - brown was an aesthetic choice."
Ugh. Anyone want a picture of Jesus? I have a spare.
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food
Gourmet-shmourmet
So, tonight I made pasta salad and turkey sandwiches, sliced an apple and threw everything (artistically) on plates. Both Lauren and Ryan proceeded to 'oo' and 'ah' and say, "Allie, this is so great! You didn't have to do this!"
The fact that they felt the need to give that much praise for my water boiling and cheese slicing skills reflects poorly on my culinary prowess, right?
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The fact that they felt the need to give that much praise for my water boiling and cheese slicing skills reflects poorly on my culinary prowess, right?
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internets
Adsense
Wow. This gmail superduperuberbar thing is really very entertaining. I can't believe I've had it so long and just completely disregarded it. *iz ashamed*
"Repair Your Relationship. Relationshipsaver.com - Even if your partner is unwilling. Learn how in 20 minutes guaranteed."
There are so many things wrong with that ad I can't even start.
Though it is slightly disturbing that google scans my emails and uses the text to infer what kind of advertising I'd be susceptible to, I do find some amusement in trying to locate the key word that spawned the ad. For example, I got an email from Lauren with the word "friendship" in it, and I'm guessing that's what made the internet elves think I might need a love doctor.
I'm tempted to write a long-winded and completely random email filled with words like mortgage, enlargement, single... just to throw them for a loop and make the little fellas dance.
"Omg! Do we use the porn one? E-dating? Is my head EXPLODING?!"
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"Repair Your Relationship. Relationshipsaver.com - Even if your partner is unwilling. Learn how in 20 minutes guaranteed."
There are so many things wrong with that ad I can't even start.
Though it is slightly disturbing that google scans my emails and uses the text to infer what kind of advertising I'd be susceptible to, I do find some amusement in trying to locate the key word that spawned the ad. For example, I got an email from Lauren with the word "friendship" in it, and I'm guessing that's what made the internet elves think I might need a love doctor.
I'm tempted to write a long-winded and completely random email filled with words like mortgage, enlargement, single... just to throw them for a loop and make the little fellas dance.
"Omg! Do we use the porn one? E-dating? Is my head EXPLODING?!"
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i'm lazy,
teevee
Woosh-woosh-woosh
I'm sitting in bed with my laptop on my lap and damn, it's cold in here. The overhead fan is spinning and creating these repeating waves of cool air. One of my arms is tucked under the blanket, but the other one has to be exposed to the elements in order to operate the computer.
Do I get up and switch off the fan? No. Instead, I spend a good deal of time contemplating how nice it would be if my computer would respond to instruction by thought so that I could tuck my other arm under as well and simply will the darn thing to do my bidding.
Either I have spent too much time watching Stargate: Atlantis and wishing I was John Sheppard, or I really have reached the pinnacle of laziness.
Perhaps both.
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Do I get up and switch off the fan? No. Instead, I spend a good deal of time contemplating how nice it would be if my computer would respond to instruction by thought so that I could tuck my other arm under as well and simply will the darn thing to do my bidding.
Either I have spent too much time watching Stargate: Atlantis and wishing I was John Sheppard, or I really have reached the pinnacle of laziness.
Perhaps both.
I *hiccup* do
So, I'm doing some research for the wedding ceremony, trying desperately to find something for us to do (as tempted as I am to have us read scripture or, I don't know -- juggle). While browsing the web for options, I came across several references to a 'Wine Ceremony'. I'd never heard of it before, but apparently it's not uncommon. It's pretty much the equivalent of a Unity Candle in that it's the combining of two separate entities. But, ya know, with red and white wine.
I can just hear Dad's disgusted cry: "In the same glass!?!?!"
He won't even let me pour fresh wine into a glass that previously had a different wine in it. Not even if it's the same vineyard, same type and the only difference is the year.
Ps. Today Ryan fell in an open manhole. His pride will take longer to heal than his busted knee.
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I can just hear Dad's disgusted cry: "In the same glass!?!?!"
He won't even let me pour fresh wine into a glass that previously had a different wine in it. Not even if it's the same vineyard, same type and the only difference is the year.
Ps. Today Ryan fell in an open manhole. His pride will take longer to heal than his busted knee.
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i'm an idiot
SupahAllie
I'm easily impressed with myself. Today, I have deemed myself of rare and superior intelligence because I already knew the Word of the Day from Dictionary.com. Sure, it was 'denizen' and I only learned it because I was in Guys and Dolls twice *shudders at the memories*, but hey, I'll see myself in whatever light I want, damnit.
Hmm. I refreshed my Gmail inbox and there's another word as the Word of the Day -- and I swear I've never seen it before in my life.
/refresh
Nope, not that one either.
/refresh
Dangit.
/refresh
That one seems vaguely familiar...
/refresh
That's a word?
Well, crap. I am the uneducated lummox I once believed myself to be.
Now I'm gonna have to start reading that top line of my inbox even if it isn't the funny quote version. Perhaps good will come of this. Yesterday it was a recipe for Spamloaf. I'm sure Ryan will be pleased.
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Hmm. I refreshed my Gmail inbox and there's another word as the Word of the Day -- and I swear I've never seen it before in my life.
/refresh
Nope, not that one either.
/refresh
Dangit.
/refresh
That one seems vaguely familiar...
/refresh
That's a word?
Well, crap. I am the uneducated lummox I once believed myself to be.
Now I'm gonna have to start reading that top line of my inbox even if it isn't the funny quote version. Perhaps good will come of this. Yesterday it was a recipe for Spamloaf. I'm sure Ryan will be pleased.
Irreconcilable Differences
Or “Four Ways Allie and the World Disagree”
1. Squirrels are so cute!. Um, NO. They’re not cute. They’re not cuddly. They’re not precious. They’re rats in fur coats and they’re out to gnaw at your insides. The fluffy tail is just their way of fooling you into thinking they’re lovable. I am not fooled.
2. Coffee rocks like whoa. Lies! Coffee is foul. It’s what I imagine you would get if you mixed mud and battery acid. I can only assume that the rest of the world has something going on in the taste bud department that enables them to let that sludge pass over their tongues without it immediately going back the way it came. (This taste bud discrepancy also accounts for the world’s fascination with mint and other things that burn.)
3. Friday nights are for partying! I think not. Friday nights are for curling up on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate and grinning unabashedly while watching Stargate: Atlantis. Wow. I get a silly smile on my face just thinking about it. Why on earth (or, you know, not earth) would you rather be at some smoky bar paying seven bucks for a margarita and the company of strangers when you could be in the comfort of your own home watching thebestestshoweveromg!
4. Cell phones r uber. Now that’s just crazy talk. Cell phones are where privacy, solitude and peace go to die. They take away your freedom! Because of these technological “advancements” there is no such thing as “unavailable.” Which is ridiculous! People expect to call you at any time and for you to answer. They expect *gulp* smalltalk! WTH! If I knew how to shoot the shit with people I’d go out more, dangit. I love my friends and family dearly, I really do. But there is something about that damned device that makes me nervous and uncomfortable and I swear it is out to get me with its… ringing and crap. Ugh. If people want instant gratification they can email me for heaven’s sake.
So... is this grounds for divorce?
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1. Squirrels are so cute!. Um, NO. They’re not cute. They’re not cuddly. They’re not precious. They’re rats in fur coats and they’re out to gnaw at your insides. The fluffy tail is just their way of fooling you into thinking they’re lovable. I am not fooled.
2. Coffee rocks like whoa. Lies! Coffee is foul. It’s what I imagine you would get if you mixed mud and battery acid. I can only assume that the rest of the world has something going on in the taste bud department that enables them to let that sludge pass over their tongues without it immediately going back the way it came. (This taste bud discrepancy also accounts for the world’s fascination with mint and other things that burn.)
3. Friday nights are for partying! I think not. Friday nights are for curling up on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate and grinning unabashedly while watching Stargate: Atlantis. Wow. I get a silly smile on my face just thinking about it. Why on earth (or, you know, not earth) would you rather be at some smoky bar paying seven bucks for a margarita and the company of strangers when you could be in the comfort of your own home watching thebestestshoweveromg!
4. Cell phones r uber. Now that’s just crazy talk. Cell phones are where privacy, solitude and peace go to die. They take away your freedom! Because of these technological “advancements” there is no such thing as “unavailable.” Which is ridiculous! People expect to call you at any time and for you to answer. They expect *gulp* smalltalk! WTH! If I knew how to shoot the shit with people I’d go out more, dangit. I love my friends and family dearly, I really do. But there is something about that damned device that makes me nervous and uncomfortable and I swear it is out to get me with its… ringing and crap. Ugh. If people want instant gratification they can email me for heaven’s sake.
So... is this grounds for divorce?
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exercise
Dear Athletic Club
I have several issues with the gym. Most of them revolving around the fact that when I’m there I am forced to exercise, but whatever.
First of all, I find the free weight coloring system appalling. Seriously. As if it weren’t humiliating enough to be using 2lb dumbbells (not that I do…) but they have to be pink? Pink! Because when the guy next to you is benching two hundred and you’re sweating under the burden of your pair of deuces, you want his attention drawn to the fact that they match your tank top. Luckily, I skipped the apple cores and went straight to the big guns – the fives. The five pounders are blue, the eights are green and the tens are black. All of them are some sort of foam. I’m on to the tens now, so my embarrassment isn’t as painful as it once was, but I still think the weight companies ought to do something about this. I propose making anything above 15lbs mandatory pastel. After all, a real man not only has muscle but can maintain his masculinity while holding girly colored paraphernalia.
One of the more frustrating parts of the gym excursion for me is the cardio. Nothing is more boring than sitting in one place for 30 minutes, spinning your wheels and staring at the Food Network. What is up with people’s tastes? Why is it that there are six television screens and none of them ever show anything I want to watch? (And don’t give me some BS about me going up there and changing the channel. Even if I wasn’t going to turn it to Sci Fi or something equally shameful, I still wouldn’t have the nerve to turn to the masses and ask if anyone was watching tv number 4. Please.) Inevitably two are on a cooking show (the same one on either end of the media bank), one is on sports, two are on the news and one is on Seventh Heaven (shouldn't the Camdens have died of old age by now?). So, I am relegated to listening to my iPod – which, no matter how many times I upload new songs, always seems to be playing crap I’m tired of. But what really gets me… is that I am forced to listen to music and NOT sing along. It’s like putting me next to Joe Flanigan but not letting me touch him. Cruel.
The biggest downside to gymming? (See that there? I made it a verb. I’m a good fangirl.) There are people there! You are constantly surrounded by strangers! Knee pushups are awkward enough in the comfort of my own living room. Doing them smack dab in the center of the whole of West Salem is positively mortifying. There should most certainly be small dark rooms where you can do your physical laboring in private. And they should be soundproof so that I may sing freely. And they should have those mirrors that make you look skinny. And every once in a while a hot man should knock on the door and offer you ice water and a "Pardon me for saying this, but you have an impressive set of muscles on that delicate frame."
Read more »
First of all, I find the free weight coloring system appalling. Seriously. As if it weren’t humiliating enough to be using 2lb dumbbells (not that I do…) but they have to be pink? Pink! Because when the guy next to you is benching two hundred and you’re sweating under the burden of your pair of deuces, you want his attention drawn to the fact that they match your tank top. Luckily, I skipped the apple cores and went straight to the big guns – the fives. The five pounders are blue, the eights are green and the tens are black. All of them are some sort of foam. I’m on to the tens now, so my embarrassment isn’t as painful as it once was, but I still think the weight companies ought to do something about this. I propose making anything above 15lbs mandatory pastel. After all, a real man not only has muscle but can maintain his masculinity while holding girly colored paraphernalia.
One of the more frustrating parts of the gym excursion for me is the cardio. Nothing is more boring than sitting in one place for 30 minutes, spinning your wheels and staring at the Food Network. What is up with people’s tastes? Why is it that there are six television screens and none of them ever show anything I want to watch? (And don’t give me some BS about me going up there and changing the channel. Even if I wasn’t going to turn it to Sci Fi or something equally shameful, I still wouldn’t have the nerve to turn to the masses and ask if anyone was watching tv number 4. Please.) Inevitably two are on a cooking show (the same one on either end of the media bank), one is on sports, two are on the news and one is on Seventh Heaven (shouldn't the Camdens have died of old age by now?). So, I am relegated to listening to my iPod – which, no matter how many times I upload new songs, always seems to be playing crap I’m tired of. But what really gets me… is that I am forced to listen to music and NOT sing along. It’s like putting me next to Joe Flanigan but not letting me touch him. Cruel.
The biggest downside to gymming? (See that there? I made it a verb. I’m a good fangirl.) There are people there! You are constantly surrounded by strangers! Knee pushups are awkward enough in the comfort of my own living room. Doing them smack dab in the center of the whole of West Salem is positively mortifying. There should most certainly be small dark rooms where you can do your physical laboring in private. And they should be soundproof so that I may sing freely. And they should have those mirrors that make you look skinny. And every once in a while a hot man should knock on the door and offer you ice water and a "Pardon me for saying this, but you have an impressive set of muscles on that delicate frame."
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internets,
wisdom
*Woobie*
Just when you thought I couldn't get any dorkier.
English? Not my only language. And because this post was such a hit (totally need a sarcasm font) I thought I'd write another installment. Because there's more than one way to speak geek.
Languages to Master:
English
Spanish
Smalltalk
Pig Latin
Video Nerd
Fangirl
Special note: Fangirl is a language that is not intended to be spoken. Attempts at speaking will reflect poorly on the mental state of the guilty party. This is a text language, yo.
Let us begin with highlighting the differences between Fangirl and Video Nerd. First off -- and perhaps most important -- is the emote. Due to the nature of online conversing, emotion/actions must be expressed through text rather than inflection or physical representation. Thus, the 'emote' was born. As I have mentioned before, in the online gaming industry the emote is denoted with a backslash: /hides. In the wonderful world of Unhealthy Obsession with Fiction, the emote is indicated by the presence of asterisks: *hides*. The most common emotes: *head desk* and *face palm*.
Also, though Fangirl does frequently make use of intentional misspelling, I have found that grammar isn't something so blatantly ignored. "i r teh suck" wouldn't really fly with the gals. We're an "I am" kind of people.
Perhaps because screaming fangirls rarely stop to take a breath, it is also very common in this form of conversing to smash words together. Really, any old words will do. However, there are some commonly reused smooshes and you can never go wrong if you start it with 'omgwtf.' Omgwtfstopitnow.
Along the same lines as the smooshing is the exclamation point. This is used to tie words together and create a new subject in and of itself. For example, the image conjured when Lauren thinks of Joe Flanigan in a wetsuit needs its own name. Thus: Scuba!Joe is born.
Fangirls have been known to make verbs out of words that aren't (and sometimes out of names). For example, if Fred stated the obvious it would be referred to as 'obviousing'... and if he did it allthetimeomg it would begin to be referred to as Freding. Or, if Tiffany yelled "faster, Allie, come on!" during our workout sessions I would say that she had Laurened me.
Anyway, blah blah. Lets get some vocab.
wibble
v.
Frequently used in the emote form, *wibble* is the state of being overcome with emotion. Balancing on the brink of tears.
like whoa
adj.
To the extreme.
example: Joe Flanigan is sexy like whoa.
oh noes
excl.
Pretty much the same as "Oh no!" Used to express dismay.
squee
excl.
The cornerstone of Fangirldom, squee is the word put to the sound of the gleeful girlie squeak. Imagine the noise I'd make if Michael Vartan stopped and asked me for directions. That is a squee.
Now, make sure you're alone. This isn't something you're going to want to do in public. As I have previously stated, should someone catch you verbalizing Fangirl you will be humiliated. You think it sounds ridiculous in print just wait until you walk in on someone squeeing.
Okay, once the coast is clear, get out of your chair and jump up and down several times. Throw in a girlie clap or two. Think of something very exciting. Now, squeal "zomg[whatever you're thinking]" without taking a break between words. Try thinking of something that would surprise/disturb you. Throw a "wtfbbq" before it. Something that makes you sad: "ohnoes" is the preface you're looking for.
Now, slap your palm on your forehead.
Congratulations. You are now an honorary fangirl. Go ahead, make your name a verb.
Read more »
English? Not my only language. And because this post was such a hit (totally need a sarcasm font) I thought I'd write another installment. Because there's more than one way to speak geek.
Languages to Master:
Spanish
Smalltalk
Special note: Fangirl is a language that is not intended to be spoken. Attempts at speaking will reflect poorly on the mental state of the guilty party. This is a text language, yo.
Let us begin with highlighting the differences between Fangirl and Video Nerd. First off -- and perhaps most important -- is the emote. Due to the nature of online conversing, emotion/actions must be expressed through text rather than inflection or physical representation. Thus, the 'emote' was born. As I have mentioned before, in the online gaming industry the emote is denoted with a backslash: /hides. In the wonderful world of Unhealthy Obsession with Fiction, the emote is indicated by the presence of asterisks: *hides*. The most common emotes: *head desk* and *face palm*.
Also, though Fangirl does frequently make use of intentional misspelling, I have found that grammar isn't something so blatantly ignored. "i r teh suck" wouldn't really fly with the gals. We're an "I am" kind of people.
Perhaps because screaming fangirls rarely stop to take a breath, it is also very common in this form of conversing to smash words together. Really, any old words will do. However, there are some commonly reused smooshes and you can never go wrong if you start it with 'omgwtf.' Omgwtfstopitnow.
Along the same lines as the smooshing is the exclamation point. This is used to tie words together and create a new subject in and of itself. For example, the image conjured when Lauren thinks of Joe Flanigan in a wetsuit needs its own name. Thus: Scuba!Joe is born.
Fangirls have been known to make verbs out of words that aren't (and sometimes out of names). For example, if Fred stated the obvious it would be referred to as 'obviousing'... and if he did it allthetimeomg it would begin to be referred to as Freding. Or, if Tiffany yelled "faster, Allie, come on!" during our workout sessions I would say that she had Laurened me.
Anyway, blah blah. Lets get some vocab.
wibble
v.
Frequently used in the emote form, *wibble* is the state of being overcome with emotion. Balancing on the brink of tears.
like whoa
adj.
To the extreme.
example: Joe Flanigan is sexy like whoa.
oh noes
excl.
Pretty much the same as "Oh no!" Used to express dismay.
squee
excl.
The cornerstone of Fangirldom, squee is the word put to the sound of the gleeful girlie squeak. Imagine the noise I'd make if Michael Vartan stopped and asked me for directions. That is a squee.
Now, make sure you're alone. This isn't something you're going to want to do in public. As I have previously stated, should someone catch you verbalizing Fangirl you will be humiliated. You think it sounds ridiculous in print just wait until you walk in on someone squeeing.
Okay, once the coast is clear, get out of your chair and jump up and down several times. Throw in a girlie clap or two. Think of something very exciting. Now, squeal "zomg[whatever you're thinking]" without taking a break between words. Try thinking of something that would surprise/disturb you. Throw a "wtfbbq" before it. Something that makes you sad: "ohnoes" is the preface you're looking for.
Now, slap your palm on your forehead.
Congratulations. You are now an honorary fangirl. Go ahead, make your name a verb.
ARGH!
Oh. My. Lord.
You know how people refer to high school students as little shits? Yeah, well, I'm there. And I feel really guilty about it -- I do. I know they're not at fault. But, damnit, I need someone to blame.
Curses, Band Camp, you hateful, hateful coterie. You with your side lawn practices and unfathomable volume. You with your pulsing beats that shake the walls of my previously peaceful home.
Does the metronome have to be so hellishly loud and blindlingly persistent?
The irony being that even with the *twang twang twang* of said time-keeper throbbing in my brain the precussion section is still offbeat.
Can we just cut our losses and unplug it? For my sanity?
Pretty please with a tuba on top?
(ETA: Um, except Thaddeus. You are exempt. Sadly, your friends are not.)
Read more »
You know how people refer to high school students as little shits? Yeah, well, I'm there. And I feel really guilty about it -- I do. I know they're not at fault. But, damnit, I need someone to blame.
Curses, Band Camp, you hateful, hateful coterie. You with your side lawn practices and unfathomable volume. You with your pulsing beats that shake the walls of my previously peaceful home.
Does the metronome have to be so hellishly loud and blindlingly persistent?
The irony being that even with the *twang twang twang* of said time-keeper throbbing in my brain the precussion section is still offbeat.
Can we just cut our losses and unplug it? For my sanity?
Pretty please with a tuba on top?
(ETA: Um, except Thaddeus. You are exempt. Sadly, your friends are not.)
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exercise
Pump It Up
So - I've been working out.
/sigh
Please stop laughing.
I'm serious.
It's true.
Anyway. BootCampBitch -- uh, I mean, my dear dear sister Lauren has put me on a vigorous routine. It started about two months ago, but I'll admit, I wasn't a very good little soldier to start with. I've been known to... uh... er... hide under the bed when BCB was looking for a workout partner. To solve this little problem, master drill sergeant has instituted a new regime -- this one comes complete with punishment.
That's right. If I don't workout six days a week [doom] I have to add an extra 15 minutes onto my next cardio session [/doom].
This may not seem like much, but let me tell you - when the digital display on that stationary bicycle hits 4:59 I'm already internally weeping. You can imagine the horror if I knew I couldn't stop the insanity until it said 45:00. I'd probably cycle myself right off a cliff. (No small feat when the wheels don't touch ground.)
Needless to say, this punishment thing is working. I have yet to skip a day. /beams
So three days a week I'm at the Courthouse Athletic Club humiliating myself by performing girl pushups in front of all the local boys and fifty year old women who do a damn good Jack Palance.
The remaining three days find me in BCB's garage listening to the wit of Tony the VHS workout man. Oh, and let me not forget "the kids" - Paul and Lisa. Lisa, btw looks like Alanis Morisette and punches so lamely that should she wind up toe-to-toe with a four year old, I'd advise her to run for the hills. Paul is simply eye-candy for Lauren. Tony is, well, maybe funny the first time. But let me tell you, the jokes get old after the tenth viewing. You can imagine them now. And every single time he tells me to "suck it up" I lose a little bit of my will to live.
Anyway, I'm doing my 90 days and I actually am seeing results. I'm buff like woah and not afraid to flex for you. Maybe one day I'll do pushups that don't bruise my knees. (Maybe not.) But here's the deal with exercising: It never stops! 90 days. Then what? Then 90 more days! And 90 more! For the rest of my life!?!?! I object. I veto this crap. I will not stand for an existence as excruciating as this. It has to end. You should be able to workout until you get your desired look and then stop, leaving your body exactly how it is. You reach your goal and then you quit, damnit. What's up with this constant maintenance crap? Who invented that?
Read more »
/sigh
Please stop laughing.
I'm serious.
It's true.
Anyway. BootCampBitch -- uh, I mean, my dear dear sister Lauren has put me on a vigorous routine. It started about two months ago, but I'll admit, I wasn't a very good little soldier to start with. I've been known to... uh... er... hide under the bed when BCB was looking for a workout partner. To solve this little problem, master drill sergeant has instituted a new regime -- this one comes complete with punishment.
That's right. If I don't workout six days a week [doom] I have to add an extra 15 minutes onto my next cardio session [/doom].
This may not seem like much, but let me tell you - when the digital display on that stationary bicycle hits 4:59 I'm already internally weeping. You can imagine the horror if I knew I couldn't stop the insanity until it said 45:00. I'd probably cycle myself right off a cliff. (No small feat when the wheels don't touch ground.)
Needless to say, this punishment thing is working. I have yet to skip a day. /beams
So three days a week I'm at the Courthouse Athletic Club humiliating myself by performing girl pushups in front of all the local boys and fifty year old women who do a damn good Jack Palance.
The remaining three days find me in BCB's garage listening to the wit of Tony the VHS workout man. Oh, and let me not forget "the kids" - Paul and Lisa. Lisa, btw looks like Alanis Morisette and punches so lamely that should she wind up toe-to-toe with a four year old, I'd advise her to run for the hills. Paul is simply eye-candy for Lauren. Tony is, well, maybe funny the first time. But let me tell you, the jokes get old after the tenth viewing. You can imagine them now. And every single time he tells me to "suck it up" I lose a little bit of my will to live.
Anyway, I'm doing my 90 days and I actually am seeing results. I'm buff like woah and not afraid to flex for you. Maybe one day I'll do pushups that don't bruise my knees. (Maybe not.) But here's the deal with exercising: It never stops! 90 days. Then what? Then 90 more days! And 90 more! For the rest of my life!?!?! I object. I veto this crap. I will not stand for an existence as excruciating as this. It has to end. You should be able to workout until you get your desired look and then stop, leaving your body exactly how it is. You reach your goal and then you quit, damnit. What's up with this constant maintenance crap? Who invented that?
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celebs,
memories,
teevee
The LIST!
In honor of my favorite person in the whole wide world (who doesn't read this blog, so I don't know why I'm bothering to suck up)... I have decided to update The List.
The List was first constructed during my Junior year at Willamette. Inspired by a Friends episode ('cause really, what in life is not just a modified version of something that has been done on television), The List is something that everyone should compose and adhere to his or her front door. This particular list is not to be confused with The Shit List. Luckily, there are multiple colors of post-its.
The funny thing is I don't remember the guys that were on our original lists. I do recall that Thandie Newton was on mine (MI2, people), and -- Faith Hill on Trish's? Maybe? I know her girl was one I was not completely behind, but, hey, it was her list. I bet Tim McGraw was on her list. And some professor. Ha. She'd kill me, she really would.
Anyway. Since I can no longer name the five elite members of my short list, I have decided it is high time to update it. Maybe I'll have it laminated and put in my wallet.
I haven't decided if this is in order or not, so I'm not going to number them. Wouldn't want anyone getting a complex or anything.
*Drumroll*
#1 ~ Joe Flanigan (I know I just got done saying there was no order, but let's be reasonable. Joe is Teh Pretty and we all know it. Numbah one!)
~ Michael Vartan
~ Johnny Depp (Note: This is ONLY pirate Johny. No other form will be accepted.)
~ Timothy Olyphant (Note: Prefer cowboy Tim, but not closed to other variations.)
~ Jamie Bamber (Mmmm... Spaceboys! When exactly did I become a SciFi girl?)
This is actually the second draft of the list I constructed tonight. The first version looked more like:
~ Joe Flanigan
~ Joe Flanigan
~ Joe Flanigan
~ Joe Flanigan
~ Joe Flanigan
But, well... then I'd have to move to Canada.
Read more »
The List was first constructed during my Junior year at Willamette. Inspired by a Friends episode ('cause really, what in life is not just a modified version of something that has been done on television), The List is something that everyone should compose and adhere to his or her front door. This particular list is not to be confused with The Shit List. Luckily, there are multiple colors of post-its.
The funny thing is I don't remember the guys that were on our original lists. I do recall that Thandie Newton was on mine (MI2, people), and -- Faith Hill on Trish's? Maybe? I know her girl was one I was not completely behind, but, hey, it was her list. I bet Tim McGraw was on her list. And some professor. Ha. She'd kill me, she really would.
Anyway. Since I can no longer name the five elite members of my short list, I have decided it is high time to update it. Maybe I'll have it laminated and put in my wallet.
I haven't decided if this is in order or not, so I'm not going to number them. Wouldn't want anyone getting a complex or anything.
*Drumroll*
#1 ~ Joe Flanigan (I know I just got done saying there was no order, but let's be reasonable. Joe is Teh Pretty and we all know it. Numbah one!)
~ Michael Vartan
~ Johnny Depp (Note: This is ONLY pirate Johny. No other form will be accepted.)
~ Timothy Olyphant (Note: Prefer cowboy Tim, but not closed to other variations.)
~ Jamie Bamber (Mmmm... Spaceboys! When exactly did I become a SciFi girl?)
This is actually the second draft of the list I constructed tonight. The first version looked more like:
~ Joe Flanigan
~ Joe Flanigan
~ Joe Flanigan
~ Joe Flanigan
~ Joe Flanigan
But, well... then I'd have to move to Canada.
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celebs,
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A Letter
Dear Vaughn,
I don't quite know how to say this. Only one other time in my life have I written a note like this. I was in the sixth grade and I biked to his house, dropped it on the porch and furiously biked away... but that's neither here nor there.
There really is no easy way to say this, so I'll be painfully blunt: I'm breaking up with you.
This is sudden and unexpected, I realize. I do wish things would have worked out between us. They would have, too. That's what makes this so hard. You and I were so good together -- it would have been a lifelong relationship. You, with your green-eyed hotness, feeding me grapes and fanning me as I watch old episodes of Alias. We could have stayed like that forever...
...but with the end of the series came a hole in my heart. A gaping emptiness that needed to be filled -- a feeling that your eye-candy alone would not quell. And so, I looked elsewhere.
That's when I found Stargate: Atlantis. I know, I know -- how cruel and uncharacteristic of me to turn to the SciFi channel! I didn't mean to do it, I swear to you! I don't even know which channel number on cable it is -- but the DVDs were there and I was aching! I popped one in and I lost control.
I know you're thinking that it doesn't have to end things between us -- that you can feed me grapes while I watch Atlantis... but... unfortunately, that's not the end of my betrayal.
I've met someone else. His name is John and he's an Airforce pilot with the spikey hair of a 12 year old boy and a nasty habit of going against orders. I won't sit here gush about him, to you of all people -- I know how this must hurt you. But -- he's made me realize that you and I were just fooling ourselves into believing that life couldn't get any better. It can.
And it will for you, too.
I wish you all the happiness in the world.
Love (but not as much as before because I have to save the majority of it for my Shep),
Allie
Read more »
I don't quite know how to say this. Only one other time in my life have I written a note like this. I was in the sixth grade and I biked to his house, dropped it on the porch and furiously biked away... but that's neither here nor there.
There really is no easy way to say this, so I'll be painfully blunt: I'm breaking up with you.
This is sudden and unexpected, I realize. I do wish things would have worked out between us. They would have, too. That's what makes this so hard. You and I were so good together -- it would have been a lifelong relationship. You, with your green-eyed hotness, feeding me grapes and fanning me as I watch old episodes of Alias. We could have stayed like that forever...
...but with the end of the series came a hole in my heart. A gaping emptiness that needed to be filled -- a feeling that your eye-candy alone would not quell. And so, I looked elsewhere.
That's when I found Stargate: Atlantis. I know, I know -- how cruel and uncharacteristic of me to turn to the SciFi channel! I didn't mean to do it, I swear to you! I don't even know which channel number on cable it is -- but the DVDs were there and I was aching! I popped one in and I lost control.
I know you're thinking that it doesn't have to end things between us -- that you can feed me grapes while I watch Atlantis... but... unfortunately, that's not the end of my betrayal.
I've met someone else. His name is John and he's an Airforce pilot with the spikey hair of a 12 year old boy and a nasty habit of going against orders. I won't sit here gush about him, to you of all people -- I know how this must hurt you. But -- he's made me realize that you and I were just fooling ourselves into believing that life couldn't get any better. It can.
And it will for you, too.
I wish you all the happiness in the world.
Love (but not as much as before because I have to save the majority of it for my Shep),
Allie
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they're crazy
Sign-age Whine-age
I think the person who came up with 'click it or ticket' really had something. It's catchy and to the point. Not that it makes me put my seatbelt on... but I'm sure people less stubborn/lazy than myself have been swayed by the existence of this sign on the side of the road.
Obviously, this creative mind was on vacation when the deadline for the litter campaign came around. 'Litter and it will hurt.' ... whuh? Wth? It will hurt? Is that supposed to imply physical harm? Images of a sign uprooting itself and whacking people upside the head come to mind. A firing squad aiming at a line-up of civilians shouting and pleading, "It was only an apple core! It's biodegradable!"
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Obviously, this creative mind was on vacation when the deadline for the litter campaign came around. 'Litter and it will hurt.' ... whuh? Wth? It will hurt? Is that supposed to imply physical harm? Images of a sign uprooting itself and whacking people upside the head come to mind. A firing squad aiming at a line-up of civilians shouting and pleading, "It was only an apple core! It's biodegradable!"
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All the Time in the World
It’s over… /sniff. Alias is over.
[a moment of silence]
The finale is creating quite a stir in the fandom, and I have to admit I’m pretty much torn. I can’t really put my head around it, I guess… it just seems like a slipshod and hectic way of ending something that had been building for five years – probably because they didn’t know until very late that it was ending at all.
For my own sanity, and to go over this with Lauren – because I know no one else that would read this really gives a hoot – I will delve into the madness that was [drumroll] THE END OF ALIAS.
My initial reaction was, “Aww, how sweet… but they didn’t answer anything!” Don’t get me wrong, if I had to have either answers or Syd/Vaughn shipperness I’d go with the shipperness. So I’m greatful to JJ and the crew for bringing my man back from the dead and giving him a nice little happy ending – I really am. Maybe it’s too much to ask for a little resolution to the plot as well.
Throughout the five seasons of Alias, the writers left themselves with many loose ends to tie up. Each finale we expected answers, and rarely did we get them. It seemed that these plot contrivances were created for convenience and discarded when they no longer had a use, instead of tying them up and moving on. Most of these things were Rambaldi. The only way I have found to make sense of all these problems, like the harvesting of the eggs, is to chalk it up to misinterpretation. I read a post on the forums where the viewer suggested that Rambaldi had always been a mystery, and that the only thing people knew for certain was that he had visions of the future and could create weapons of destruction. So, naturally, those who strove for power and glory attempted to unravel Rambaldi and find a way to harness his creations themselves. So, along the way, people tried to interpret his writings and inventions and made some missteps. Which helps me to believe this: Sydney wasn’t the chosen one. She was “this woman here depicted” but it never really said she was the chosen one. Sloane was the chosen one. (Wrap your head around that.) Sloane and Nadia fought and only one survived. The only thing Sydney did was bring the greatest power unto utter desolation… destroying Irina and the formula for immortality (which was the greatest power?).
So, if we look at it like that, a few more ends are tied and a little bit more makes sense. There are still some things that irk me, however. Like them saying that Sydney lived with Sloane and Emily when she was younger. Um, hello… if they would have kept the same writers throughout the five seasons (or, heaven forbid, made your new writers watch the first two seasons) they would have known that at Emily’s funeral Sydney says something along the lines of “I first met Emily shortly after starting work at Credit Dauphine.” I can try really hard to pretend that Sydney just blocked out that part of her life because it was so damn traumatic… but really? They dropped the ball.
Characterization.
Sydney and Vaughn. Both these characters I felt stayed true to their past behavior. I had no complaints.
Jack. I know people are very, very upset that Jack had to die, but really – he died nobly. He died protecting Sydney from the life he failed to protect her from when she was growing up. It was really very poetic and I was proud of Jack to the end. The only problem… did he really have to die to blow that charge? I mean, did he have to be holding it in his hands? Couldn’t he have thrown it down the hole and detonated it from the top?
Sloane. Sloane was completely in character to the end. The man had always loved the people closest to him, but Rambaldi most of all. In the end, his thirst for immortality and the Rambaldi endgame forced him to make difficult choices and prioritize. Just like he did with Nadia… he picked power over Sydney.
Irina. Yeah, I’ll admit… I’m upset about them making Irina evil. In season two there was all of this mother/daughter stuff that lead the viewers to believe that Irina had a heart somewhere in that chest of hers, and that, though she strove for ultimate power, she would always find a way to put Sydney first. I have a very hard time believing she’d take a cord to her daughter’s neck and try to strangle her. But maybe, as one viewer posted on the boards, this just proves how good Irina really was. She was a master of deception… we all know that. I guess you have to think of those moments where we saw her “good side” come through as times when she was just putting on an act… and successfully misleading the audience, as well as Sydney. And, for her part, she did try to have both. She tried to let Syd have her baby and a family… but that was contingent on Sydney letting her go. Which, of course, she couldn’t.
Sark. I’ll admit… when Vaughn was holding the gun to Sark I thought, “don’t kill him! Please don’t kill him!” I like Sark as a villain. I think in these two episodes he developed a little more of a conscience than he had in the past… but it worked. He was excellent comic relief (“Does it have to be so filthy? If Rambaldi could prophesy the future, he might have advised me not wear 500-dollar shoes” and a sort of comfort to those of us who still cling to the first two seasons. And can I say, the bit in the end about him being behind the next operation… the part where Syd says to Vaughn, “Don’t look at me. You’re the one who let him go.” Crack me up!
Dixon, Marshall… both very in character, and like Sark, a bit of a comfort in these our final hours. I loved that they brought Carrie in. Though she had a relatively small roll in the series she was an integral part and wonderfully captured by the actress. Nice touch.
Francie. Um, pathetic excuse for a “guest star” spot… she was only on screen for all of 15 seconds in a lame (and completely unnecessary) flashback. I wasn’t expecting you to bring her back from the dead, but…wth?
Having said all this, I look back and… maybe I have come to terms with the end of Alias. I admit, I wept like a baby. Or, you know, flipped out and sobbed for a good half hour. It’s sad to see something I’ve invested so much passion into go come to a conclusion. (Even if it is a TV show and all of you who are reading this… if you’re still reading… think I’m certifiably crazy. To those people I say, “go read the boards and see that I’m one of the more sane ones.”)
I have but one complaint that I cannot quietly put away:
WHERE THE HELL WAS WEISS?
Read more »
[a moment of silence]
The finale is creating quite a stir in the fandom, and I have to admit I’m pretty much torn. I can’t really put my head around it, I guess… it just seems like a slipshod and hectic way of ending something that had been building for five years – probably because they didn’t know until very late that it was ending at all.
For my own sanity, and to go over this with Lauren – because I know no one else that would read this really gives a hoot – I will delve into the madness that was [drumroll] THE END OF ALIAS.
My initial reaction was, “Aww, how sweet… but they didn’t answer anything!” Don’t get me wrong, if I had to have either answers or Syd/Vaughn shipperness I’d go with the shipperness. So I’m greatful to JJ and the crew for bringing my man back from the dead and giving him a nice little happy ending – I really am. Maybe it’s too much to ask for a little resolution to the plot as well.
Throughout the five seasons of Alias, the writers left themselves with many loose ends to tie up. Each finale we expected answers, and rarely did we get them. It seemed that these plot contrivances were created for convenience and discarded when they no longer had a use, instead of tying them up and moving on. Most of these things were Rambaldi. The only way I have found to make sense of all these problems, like the harvesting of the eggs, is to chalk it up to misinterpretation. I read a post on the forums where the viewer suggested that Rambaldi had always been a mystery, and that the only thing people knew for certain was that he had visions of the future and could create weapons of destruction. So, naturally, those who strove for power and glory attempted to unravel Rambaldi and find a way to harness his creations themselves. So, along the way, people tried to interpret his writings and inventions and made some missteps. Which helps me to believe this: Sydney wasn’t the chosen one. She was “this woman here depicted” but it never really said she was the chosen one. Sloane was the chosen one. (Wrap your head around that.) Sloane and Nadia fought and only one survived. The only thing Sydney did was bring the greatest power unto utter desolation… destroying Irina and the formula for immortality (which was the greatest power?).
So, if we look at it like that, a few more ends are tied and a little bit more makes sense. There are still some things that irk me, however. Like them saying that Sydney lived with Sloane and Emily when she was younger. Um, hello… if they would have kept the same writers throughout the five seasons (or, heaven forbid, made your new writers watch the first two seasons) they would have known that at Emily’s funeral Sydney says something along the lines of “I first met Emily shortly after starting work at Credit Dauphine.” I can try really hard to pretend that Sydney just blocked out that part of her life because it was so damn traumatic… but really? They dropped the ball.
Characterization.
Sydney and Vaughn. Both these characters I felt stayed true to their past behavior. I had no complaints.
Jack. I know people are very, very upset that Jack had to die, but really – he died nobly. He died protecting Sydney from the life he failed to protect her from when she was growing up. It was really very poetic and I was proud of Jack to the end. The only problem… did he really have to die to blow that charge? I mean, did he have to be holding it in his hands? Couldn’t he have thrown it down the hole and detonated it from the top?
Sloane. Sloane was completely in character to the end. The man had always loved the people closest to him, but Rambaldi most of all. In the end, his thirst for immortality and the Rambaldi endgame forced him to make difficult choices and prioritize. Just like he did with Nadia… he picked power over Sydney.
Irina. Yeah, I’ll admit… I’m upset about them making Irina evil. In season two there was all of this mother/daughter stuff that lead the viewers to believe that Irina had a heart somewhere in that chest of hers, and that, though she strove for ultimate power, she would always find a way to put Sydney first. I have a very hard time believing she’d take a cord to her daughter’s neck and try to strangle her. But maybe, as one viewer posted on the boards, this just proves how good Irina really was. She was a master of deception… we all know that. I guess you have to think of those moments where we saw her “good side” come through as times when she was just putting on an act… and successfully misleading the audience, as well as Sydney. And, for her part, she did try to have both. She tried to let Syd have her baby and a family… but that was contingent on Sydney letting her go. Which, of course, she couldn’t.
Sark. I’ll admit… when Vaughn was holding the gun to Sark I thought, “don’t kill him! Please don’t kill him!” I like Sark as a villain. I think in these two episodes he developed a little more of a conscience than he had in the past… but it worked. He was excellent comic relief (“Does it have to be so filthy? If Rambaldi could prophesy the future, he might have advised me not wear 500-dollar shoes” and a sort of comfort to those of us who still cling to the first two seasons. And can I say, the bit in the end about him being behind the next operation… the part where Syd says to Vaughn, “Don’t look at me. You’re the one who let him go.” Crack me up!
Dixon, Marshall… both very in character, and like Sark, a bit of a comfort in these our final hours. I loved that they brought Carrie in. Though she had a relatively small roll in the series she was an integral part and wonderfully captured by the actress. Nice touch.
Francie. Um, pathetic excuse for a “guest star” spot… she was only on screen for all of 15 seconds in a lame (and completely unnecessary) flashback. I wasn’t expecting you to bring her back from the dead, but…wth?
Having said all this, I look back and… maybe I have come to terms with the end of Alias. I admit, I wept like a baby. Or, you know, flipped out and sobbed for a good half hour. It’s sad to see something I’ve invested so much passion into go come to a conclusion. (Even if it is a TV show and all of you who are reading this… if you’re still reading… think I’m certifiably crazy. To those people I say, “go read the boards and see that I’m one of the more sane ones.”)
I have but one complaint that I cannot quietly put away:
WHERE THE HELL WAS WEISS?
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teevee
He's ALIVE!
That's right. Vaughn is alive. The show is dead, but he's back! And that, my dear readers, is all that matters. Tune in next Wednesday where he may even have more than 3 seconds of screen time! /giddy
This may come as a shock to you... but I think I get unhealthily attached to fictional characters. I've got this problem where I start watching (or - heaven forbid - reading) a series and it's like I develop a personal relationship with the faux-people.
It's not that I'm a huge TV person, or a big bookworm... it's just that I attach myself to a character and I MUST be a part of their life. The Stephanie Plum Series, the Elvis Cole series -- those books are deadly. I start reading and I can't stop. Ever. And then I read the series again and again. Just try pulling the book from my weary hands at 4 in the morning -- it's just about as hard as trying to get me to read something new.
The best thing to happen to me? DVD box sets of TV series. It's like my personal drug. You can pick a show... and watch the entire thing from start to finish. No pesky commercials... no silly reruns! I don't like my drugs diluted! Just give it to me straight!
Current addiction: Firefly. Why on earth did they cancel this show? It was brilliant. You must all go rent it (only 14 episodes) and then watch the movie (Serenity). Oh, but you'll have to imagine that they get together in the end. CAUSE THAT'S WHAT WOULD HAPPEN! I know these characters. That is what would happen!
Read more »
This may come as a shock to you... but I think I get unhealthily attached to fictional characters. I've got this problem where I start watching (or - heaven forbid - reading) a series and it's like I develop a personal relationship with the faux-people.
It's not that I'm a huge TV person, or a big bookworm... it's just that I attach myself to a character and I MUST be a part of their life. The Stephanie Plum Series, the Elvis Cole series -- those books are deadly. I start reading and I can't stop. Ever. And then I read the series again and again. Just try pulling the book from my weary hands at 4 in the morning -- it's just about as hard as trying to get me to read something new.
The best thing to happen to me? DVD box sets of TV series. It's like my personal drug. You can pick a show... and watch the entire thing from start to finish. No pesky commercials... no silly reruns! I don't like my drugs diluted! Just give it to me straight!
Current addiction: Firefly. Why on earth did they cancel this show? It was brilliant. You must all go rent it (only 14 episodes) and then watch the movie (Serenity). Oh, but you'll have to imagine that they get together in the end. CAUSE THAT'S WHAT WOULD HAPPEN! I know these characters. That is what would happen!
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dialogue,
dialogue: ryan,
they're crazy
Got Some?
True story from a day in the life of Ryan.
Mike is the bartender at the restaurant where Ryan works -- and they're not really friends. Not at all. So, Ryan was a bit surprised when Mike came up to him:
Mike: Hey dude... when was the last time you smoked pot?
Ryan: Um... I, uh... I tried it once in college. Didn't sit well.
Mike: You taking any heavy meds?
Ryan: Er... I'm taking Nyquil.
Mike: Perfect. Dude, you could totally help me out.
Ryan: Um. What's going on?
Mike: Dude. I need some pee.
Ryan: Oh. Um. You have to take a test for work?
Mike: No, bro. I got this custody thing for my fuckin kids.
Ryan: Ah.
Mike: I need some piss by Wednesday. [Mike whips out a water bottle] Think you could take a little pee?
Ryan: [Lying through his teeth] Oh, man. Very unfortunate, but I just relieved myself about 15 minutes ago.
Mike: No way, man. That sucks.
Ryan: Yeah.
Mike: I need it by Wednesday, dude. And I see you're not on the schedule. Can you come in and do it tomorrow?
Ryan: Oh, well, I don't know. I've got lots to do tomorrow.
Mike: Man, this sucks. I asked Sean and he said he wouldn't even do it for his best friend. What kind of bullshit is that, man.
Ryan: That's rough.
Mike: Totally. So are you going to be able to make it in?
Ryan: No, dude. Sorry.
Mike: Alright, dude, well I'll call you tomorrow around noon and see if you can come in. I need some piss by Wednesday.
Ryan: ...
Poor Ryan first thought he was being hit up for a drug deal of some sort and it turns out he's wanted for his cleanliness and ability to urinate.
I told him to take the halo off his head before going into work.
Read more »
Mike is the bartender at the restaurant where Ryan works -- and they're not really friends. Not at all. So, Ryan was a bit surprised when Mike came up to him:
Mike: Hey dude... when was the last time you smoked pot?
Ryan: Um... I, uh... I tried it once in college. Didn't sit well.
Mike: You taking any heavy meds?
Ryan: Er... I'm taking Nyquil.
Mike: Perfect. Dude, you could totally help me out.
Ryan: Um. What's going on?
Mike: Dude. I need some pee.
Ryan: Oh. Um. You have to take a test for work?
Mike: No, bro. I got this custody thing for my fuckin kids.
Ryan: Ah.
Mike: I need some piss by Wednesday. [Mike whips out a water bottle] Think you could take a little pee?
Ryan: [Lying through his teeth] Oh, man. Very unfortunate, but I just relieved myself about 15 minutes ago.
Mike: No way, man. That sucks.
Ryan: Yeah.
Mike: I need it by Wednesday, dude. And I see you're not on the schedule. Can you come in and do it tomorrow?
Ryan: Oh, well, I don't know. I've got lots to do tomorrow.
Mike: Man, this sucks. I asked Sean and he said he wouldn't even do it for his best friend. What kind of bullshit is that, man.
Ryan: That's rough.
Mike: Totally. So are you going to be able to make it in?
Ryan: No, dude. Sorry.
Mike: Alright, dude, well I'll call you tomorrow around noon and see if you can come in. I need some piss by Wednesday.
Ryan: ...
Poor Ryan first thought he was being hit up for a drug deal of some sort and it turns out he's wanted for his cleanliness and ability to urinate.
I told him to take the halo off his head before going into work.
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recs
Ryan and Allie
/rawr...
For updates on the nuptials tune in to:
www.ryanandallie.blogspot.com
Read more »
For updates on the nuptials tune in to:
www.ryanandallie.blogspot.com
Won't you be mine?
In honor of Valentine's Day, I have made another wallpaper. This is dedicated to Kristin... in memory of all those Valentine's Days years ago when we would bake cupcakes and watch girly movies while ripping on all the immature guys who were obviously too stupid to know how fantastic we were. Silly boys.
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More?!
...can't...stop...photoshop...
...must...get...life...
And I even branched out from the Shipper-Alias theme and did one without Alias in it! OMG! It can be done. Think of the world of possibilites I just opened up.
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...must...get...life...
And I even branched out from the Shipper-Alias theme and did one without Alias in it! OMG! It can be done. Think of the world of possibilites I just opened up.
Photoshop
So, after a long time of admiring the work of people I didn't know, I decided that it was time I made my own wallpaper. You know, Alias style. Because, frankly, those are the only pictures I have.
So, wandering around aimlessly clicking buttons in Adobe Photoshop 7 I managed to make this wallpaper. It's my second attempt... and judging from the improvement after the first... I'd go so far as to say I'm actually getting the hang of this.
Anyway, think of this as a before and after. One day, I'll post another wallpaper and you can all look back to this and see how crude it was.
Ps. I tried to upload the picture as the original size (wallpaper size) but Photobucket won't let me. So all you out there who are dying to make Michael your desktop background, you'll just have to get me to send you the file. Please, please... no need to push and shove. You'll all get your turn, just form a nice line to my right.
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i'm an idiot,
lappy,
woe
Sly
Oh, Sylvester.
/shakes head
Sylvester and I haven’t known each other all that long. It’s been a little over a year since this Dell was FedEx’d into my life and in that short time we’ve had a fair amount of trauma.
I take full responsibility for the first incident. It was my clumsiness that resulted in his premature gutting and refacing… but he was “as good as new!”
After the Cider Slider we’ve had a few hiccups. Mostly along the lines of frozen screens and burnt wrists. Maybe I ask too much of him. I know he’s not a gaming machine, and I certainly have learned that he needs his cool-down time… and sometimes I deny him that. But, in the end, I feel that what I take from him I more than return in appreciation and adoration.
So why am I here today writing my blog on Ryan’s computer? Why has he failed me?
If only I knew.
It started as a few error screens on start-up. Then, yesterday, a day like any other, he froze and I rebooted. The error screen returned but this time – it wouldn’t start. Nine, ten successive restarts resulted in a variety of blank screens, error messages and prompts… but never anything past the desktop wallpaper. Once I saw a mouse, but couldn’t make it dance. And so, the good people of Dell were notified.
I’m not exactly sure what was happening on the other end of the phone line but from where I was sitting I got the impression that Ryan was talking to a dog.
“No,” he said loudly and clearly.
“No. NO.”
There would be noise on the other end and then Ryan would respond just as forcefully, “yes.”
I think I liked it better when you just had to press numbers.
The phone did a few basic tricks and we were all rewarded with the entrance of Sandra.
English is not Sandra’s first language and computer is not mine. I assure you that if I had to deal with this without Ryan’s assistance it would be frightful at best. After managing to communicate our issue, Sandra told Ryan to reboot and press a series of keys which resulted in some odd diagnostic screen that I didn’t know existed. It’s as if he delved into the depths of Sly and found a side I had yet to dust off. At first I was impressed… but then came the test.
Sandy instructed Ryan to run some sort of test of the hard drive to check for errors. She informed him that it could take 25-30 minutes and so he should put her on speaker-phone and go about his business. We thought this was a little odd, but did as instructed, moving about the room as ghosts in the night as the phone sat on the desk – a microphone. When Ryan wanted my attention he would clear his throat and motion to me. I’d head across the room and he’d whisper in my ear, anxious not to let Sandra hear our business. After about thirty minutes her voice broke through the silence.
“Hello, Sir. Sir, are you there?”
Ryan jumped up and snatched the phone, informing Sandra that we were only 9% into the test.
“Yes,” she confirmed, “takes long time. Relax. Put on speaker-phone.”
We did as instructed – or as close as we could come to relaxing with the phone sitting ominously on the desktop, connecting us with Sandra’s ear.
Thirty minutes later:
“Hello, Sir. Sir, are you there?”
This test was not progressing as quickly as we had been told it would. She informed us that it takes time and she would wait. Ryan suggested that maybe since this looked like it was going to take hours we would get her number and call her when it was done. Apparently, the instruction manual does not allow her to abandon the customer mid-test.
This went on until about four in the morning and the three of us were on edge. Ryan tried again to ask Sandra if perhaps he could go to bed and call her in the morning. She told him that she wanted to give it fifteen more minutes and then we would reevaluate the situation.
“Get comfortable. Get coffee,” she suggested.
A while later, we reevaluated and she decided to let us go to bed. She said she would call us back in the morning.
“What time I call?”
“How about ten pacific?”
“Earlier.”
“Eight?”
“You be awake?”
“Yeah, we’ll get up.”
“It is four in the morning?”
“Yeah, it is.”
She told us she’d call at eight to check on the status of the test and we thankfully headed to bed.
It’s a little before nine and the test has finally concluded but Sandra has not called and the extension she gave us is “no longer in service.”
Again, Ryan speaks to the dog.
“No. NO. No. Yes. No.”
We’ve got human life now and from what I can hear it speaks fluent English. He’s clicking buttons and now yet another side of Sylvester is revealed. Who knew he had so many sides.
HOLD.
THE.
PHONE.
The prompt that just hit the screen actually made my stomach churn.
“Press OK to continue. All data will be lost. If you do not wish to continue Cancel now.”
/weep openly
Mr. All American Tech Support has cavalierly stated that we are to continue with the restoration.
There’s a buzzing in my head and a sickness forming in my stomach. I can’t think of anything on my computer that I’m going to miss, and I’m wondering if it’s some sort of defense mechanism. Perhaps I’ve erased the existence of anything pertinent that I may have created in the past year.
Yeah, it was a defense mechanism.
It’s all flooding back.
I don’t feel so good.
In the background I hear Ryan telling Techie that he works in the entertainment industry and that he’s headed to law school… I’d ask wth he’s doing but I need to get back in bed.
Oh, Sylvester.
Read more »
/shakes head
Sylvester and I haven’t known each other all that long. It’s been a little over a year since this Dell was FedEx’d into my life and in that short time we’ve had a fair amount of trauma.
I take full responsibility for the first incident. It was my clumsiness that resulted in his premature gutting and refacing… but he was “as good as new!”
After the Cider Slider we’ve had a few hiccups. Mostly along the lines of frozen screens and burnt wrists. Maybe I ask too much of him. I know he’s not a gaming machine, and I certainly have learned that he needs his cool-down time… and sometimes I deny him that. But, in the end, I feel that what I take from him I more than return in appreciation and adoration.
So why am I here today writing my blog on Ryan’s computer? Why has he failed me?
If only I knew.
It started as a few error screens on start-up. Then, yesterday, a day like any other, he froze and I rebooted. The error screen returned but this time – it wouldn’t start. Nine, ten successive restarts resulted in a variety of blank screens, error messages and prompts… but never anything past the desktop wallpaper. Once I saw a mouse, but couldn’t make it dance. And so, the good people of Dell were notified.
I’m not exactly sure what was happening on the other end of the phone line but from where I was sitting I got the impression that Ryan was talking to a dog.
“No,” he said loudly and clearly.
“No. NO.”
There would be noise on the other end and then Ryan would respond just as forcefully, “yes.”
I think I liked it better when you just had to press numbers.
The phone did a few basic tricks and we were all rewarded with the entrance of Sandra.
English is not Sandra’s first language and computer is not mine. I assure you that if I had to deal with this without Ryan’s assistance it would be frightful at best. After managing to communicate our issue, Sandra told Ryan to reboot and press a series of keys which resulted in some odd diagnostic screen that I didn’t know existed. It’s as if he delved into the depths of Sly and found a side I had yet to dust off. At first I was impressed… but then came the test.
Sandy instructed Ryan to run some sort of test of the hard drive to check for errors. She informed him that it could take 25-30 minutes and so he should put her on speaker-phone and go about his business. We thought this was a little odd, but did as instructed, moving about the room as ghosts in the night as the phone sat on the desk – a microphone. When Ryan wanted my attention he would clear his throat and motion to me. I’d head across the room and he’d whisper in my ear, anxious not to let Sandra hear our business. After about thirty minutes her voice broke through the silence.
“Hello, Sir. Sir, are you there?”
Ryan jumped up and snatched the phone, informing Sandra that we were only 9% into the test.
“Yes,” she confirmed, “takes long time. Relax. Put on speaker-phone.”
We did as instructed – or as close as we could come to relaxing with the phone sitting ominously on the desktop, connecting us with Sandra’s ear.
Thirty minutes later:
“Hello, Sir. Sir, are you there?”
This test was not progressing as quickly as we had been told it would. She informed us that it takes time and she would wait. Ryan suggested that maybe since this looked like it was going to take hours we would get her number and call her when it was done. Apparently, the instruction manual does not allow her to abandon the customer mid-test.
This went on until about four in the morning and the three of us were on edge. Ryan tried again to ask Sandra if perhaps he could go to bed and call her in the morning. She told him that she wanted to give it fifteen more minutes and then we would reevaluate the situation.
“Get comfortable. Get coffee,” she suggested.
A while later, we reevaluated and she decided to let us go to bed. She said she would call us back in the morning.
“What time I call?”
“How about ten pacific?”
“Earlier.”
“Eight?”
“You be awake?”
“Yeah, we’ll get up.”
“It is four in the morning?”
“Yeah, it is.”
She told us she’d call at eight to check on the status of the test and we thankfully headed to bed.
It’s a little before nine and the test has finally concluded but Sandra has not called and the extension she gave us is “no longer in service.”
Again, Ryan speaks to the dog.
“No. NO. No. Yes. No.”
We’ve got human life now and from what I can hear it speaks fluent English. He’s clicking buttons and now yet another side of Sylvester is revealed. Who knew he had so many sides.
HOLD.
THE.
PHONE.
The prompt that just hit the screen actually made my stomach churn.
“Press OK to continue. All data will be lost. If you do not wish to continue Cancel now.”
/weep openly
Mr. All American Tech Support has cavalierly stated that we are to continue with the restoration.
There’s a buzzing in my head and a sickness forming in my stomach. I can’t think of anything on my computer that I’m going to miss, and I’m wondering if it’s some sort of defense mechanism. Perhaps I’ve erased the existence of anything pertinent that I may have created in the past year.
Yeah, it was a defense mechanism.
It’s all flooding back.
I don’t feel so good.
In the background I hear Ryan telling Techie that he works in the entertainment industry and that he’s headed to law school… I’d ask wth he’s doing but I need to get back in bed.
Oh, Sylvester.
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Creepy
Hey everyone check out www.creepshow3.com and see Creepy!Ryan.... you can even set his ugly mug as your desktop wallpaper.
Read more »
