Tuesday, June 28, 2011

A terrible tragedy has struck

You better be sitting for this one.

I just don't know how it happened. When. Why. It's terrible, reprehensible. Who could do this to me?

I have to keep busy to stop myself from breaking down and crying.

I mean, it's just so vile. I've lost all faith in humanity.

You've probably guessed what's happened by now, so I'll just say it outright.

Sir Baron Bouncy Biggles Barnum Baxter Francis III. Is...


...I need a moment here.

Just breathe. Breaaathe....

...I promised myself I wouldn't cry.

Who knew that the rubber band that I added to Sir Bouncy on Wednesday would be his last. I don't know what's worse, the fact that he's missing or the fact that I don't know if he's happy or safe. Is he cold or hungry? Did one of those slimy interns take him or (gasp!) throw him away? I knew their annoyingly helpful attitude was just a front for their fiendish plans. Is he being violated, tortured by having his rubber bands removed slowly, one by one? Is he being taken care of? He needs more rubber bands to survive!

I think I just need to go home early and rest. It's been a trying day and I just can't look at that empty spot in my paper clip holder anymore. It's too much to take!

It's just...we've been together so long. I remember when I first made him. It was when I first started working here. I started with his heart, a small balled up piece of scrap paper. I took every single rubber band I could find on my desk and shaped him into the young man he became before he was so suddenly taken from me. I've watched him grow from a tiny little oval-shaped thing into a beautiful round ball who would bounce for me whenever I got bored. He was growing so big and had such a bright future. I was so proud of his accomplishments.

I just don't think I can ever feel safe at work again if people can just kidnap other people's rubber band balls without even leaving a ransom note. What kind of atrociously abhorrent astihophobic world world do we live in? I'm afraid to even think about beginning another--it could never fill the hole in my heart that Sir Bouncy made when he disappeared and I couldn't bear the trauma of losing another of my precious creations. 

So boys and girls, the lesson to this story is this: Hold your office supply creations tight, for you never know when they might bounce away from you forever. 

Friday, June 24, 2011

Guest blogger: Luna!

How you turn this thing on?
Hi. Is Luna. Today Take Your Dog to Work Day. Mom don't work at away job today, so she sit me down here and she said, "Luna, you're going to learn how to blog." She said I get cookie for every paragraph I write. Then she explain what paragraph means.

Is paragraph. Is cookie time now?

Paragraph again. More cookie?

Mom just yelled at me, said I get no more cookies if I don't write paragraphs right. I is dog, what she expect? I wish mom work for Kong. Kong make toys that mom and dad put noms in. I like noms. Speaking of noms, is cookie time yet?

I bet if mom work for Kong, I get more cookies. And squeaky balls. I like squeaky balls. They not make me write blog post. They let me pick out toy to destroy. I be product tester. But mom no work for Kong. Instead, mom make me blog. Is hard to blog. Is hard to type with paws. Too big for small keyboard. I press other keys and have to backspace to delete them, but when I press backspace, I press more keys. So I type with nose, but nose too big for keyboard too. Kong, why you no hire mom? She good writer. And cookie-giver. She stuff Kong good, with peanut butter and cookie.


Stupid blog and stupid small keyboard. Human paws too small. They can't even walk on front ones! Humans strange. Mom and dad strange. They keep talking about thing called "camping." I not know what camping means, but they happy about it. Not wagging tails, but I know they happy. Last time I heard camping word, I stayed at grandma's house. I like grandma's house. She has pool and bones and tennis balls and Lucy. Lucy steals balls from me in pool and hides them. I still like her.

I guess camping word means I go to grandma's house and go swimming with Lucy, who steals balls, but now they ask me if I want go. I don't know what camping mean, so I don't know if I want go. Please tell me what camping mean. Camping has cookies? Bones? Tennis balls? Kennies I can chase? I like barking at kennies, they stupid. I bet they don't write blogs. They can't work keyboard, they just lay on it. Stupid kennies.

Mom said I get play with squeaky ball now for writing blog. She said I is good dog. I like being good dog. I get cookies when I good dog. I get no cookies when I bad dog. Usually get yelled at and told to lay down when I bad dog. Don't know why.

Mom said I need to tell about my Facebook. I has one. You need to like me because everybody like Luna. Luna fun. Luna jump on you when you come over, but that is okay. I know you like it.

And here is video of me jumping in pool for tennis ball. Before Lucy stole it. Is fun. I famous dog now.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

And now, a word from our foul-mouthed sponsors.

I try to keep this blog as family-friendly as possible, but the occasional curse word sometimes slips out, especially in my older posts when I didn't think about those mysterious things people like to call "readers." So in an effort to rid myself of random f-bombs, I thought I'd get it all out of my system in one post.

Cover your ears, children.


Jimmy, don't think I can't see you back there. Cover your ears!

That's better. Ready, folks?

$@$%*& @%$ @^$%! &$%(^ ###### @#$ on a !~#%$ *(^$#%# @$#*# !!! #%^ +=$% you smelly pile of $^@($( @#$%*& I hate your @&^$@_  guts ~~~ #$^$ %& (&@(*&$@ you make me want to &^* all over the(@#^&*$ ( * (&%^^&%^ pacifist yoga-pants wearing %#&@ polar bears! Fgdfgs wtweruoiturvs awiort frtowz!!!!

Ah. Much better.

Seriously, though, what's going too far when it comes to cursing? I think it's international knowledge what the mother of all curse words is, but what's acceptable to say? I know that it's okay to say ass on television, but is that even taking it too far? And what about that entire episode of South Park that revolved around how many times they could say shit?

And don't you tell me that you've never cursed before. At least once in your life, some obscenity has crossed your lips. Just admit it. Even if you're a saint and you don't curse in your waking hours, how do you know that you don't swear like a crazy cracked out camel who can't figure out how to put the coaxial cables back in his closed-circuit television in your sleep? You don't, that's how. And yes, I may have gotten a bit carried away with that analogy. This is my blog, deal with it.

Honestly, though, I don't think curse words are really all that bad. Once you strip them down of their taboo-ooooh-you-just-said-a-bad-word stuff, you're just left with words. And I like words. I'll tell you a story: When I was a kid, I loved reading. Like seriously loved it. And every once in a while, I'd pick up one of my mom's books and look through it, searching for certain words. And when I found the desired words, I'd put it down and tell her that her book had dirty words in it. I don't know how I learned to read them or why, but I knew. My mom was reading dirty words.

My point is this: Children won't grow up to be big, slimy horrible cursing hag fish if they hear or read a cuss word every once in a while. I could read curse words as a child, and I turned out alrig...

...Oh. Nevermind.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Battle of Los Angeles is a battle with your brain cells.

So Pat and I watched Battle of Los Angeles last night. And apparently spell check doesn't recognize Los Angeles. Weird. Read the movie title carefully because we didn't and thought it was Battle: Los Angeles. Which it wasn't. This was just a SyFy (that doesn't spell SciFi, BTW. It spells Cee-Fee.) knock-off. I'm hoping that the real Battle: Los Angeles is much better than this steaming pile of crap that somebody puked on because people actually payed to see that one.

If you've never seen this movie, then I must warn you that this post will contain spoilers. But that's okay because you do not want to see this movie. Ever. Just trust me on this one. I went through the pain so you don't have to.

So the movie starts out right away with this big alien spaceship and these fake-looking airplanes trying to shoot missiles at it. We should have known the movie was going to be bad right then. And not just entertainingly bad, like most SciFi movies, but just bad. Like too much Taco Bell bad. One, because there was no back story, no explanation whatsoever about how the aliens got there or when or what the hell they were doing over this city that you have to assume is Los Angeles because it's in the title of the movie, even though it looks nothing like LA. And second, because they were trying to blow up a huge spaceship with missiles. Everyone knows you can't blow up aliens with missiles. I mean, come on, haven't they seen Independence Day? Can you guess what happens to the missiles? That's right, the aliens reprogram them to attack the pilots instead. Duh! I tried to warn you, silly pilots!

It''s like that big fat bully on the playground. And this little scrawny kid is trying to beat him up because the bully stole his glasses, but the bully just holds the glasses up high with one hand and holds the scrawny kid back by his forehead with the other and laughs and says, "how cute, he's trying to beat me." And this goes on for a while until the scrawny kid gets tired and sits down and cries. Except in the movie, the scrawny kids gets blown up.

So a couple of planes explode and this one chick pilot tells them what's happening and to not send more planes because they're just going to get blown up like the little scrawny kid. But they're all like, "oh, well, we're sending more planes anyway because you're obviously not right there seeing this shit happen and because we really don't care. We like big fake explosions." So she tries to destroy the missiles coming towards the aliens and then ejects herself from her plane, but forget about her because you'll never see her again.

Then they cut to this scene where pilots are getting into their planes to attack the aliens, even though we know that it's useless and that they'll probably die. Kel is there. Yes, Kel. From Kenan and Ken. "Welcome to Goodburger, home of the Goodburger, can I take your order?" Now, that's a good movie.

Anyway, these pilots are about to take off, but the first guy is too scared to move. He's the only smart one in the movie and, sadly, he gets blown up in some big fake explosion because the aliens come down with their smaller spaceships and and shoot at them and they try to shoot back which is stupid because it's obviously not working. But it's okay because apparently they have an unlimited supply of ammo.

Blah, blah, blah, shooting, shooting, shooting. And then this guy comes out of nowhere in some old ass plane that I'm sure Pat could identify, but I never asked because I really didn't care. So this guy goes up to the random army dudes (we have no idea what their names are) and basically says, "Hi, I'm a pilot from 1942 and I was sent on a mission to see what that thing is (Duh! It's a spaceship!) and I'm just getting back now. BTW, what year is it?" And they just accept that like time-traveling pilots are perfectly normal.

Really, guys?! Really?! I mean, the guy hasn't changed one bit in over 60 years and you're just going to accept that? Never mind the fact that they somehow know that this guy hasn't changed in over 60 years. They ask no questions about where he's been and why he hasn't aged. Stupid Army dudes.

And while we're on the subject of the 90 year-old pilot that looks like he's 20...have they really been fighting the aliens for that long? Like, for real? Wouldn't you just give up at some point during the 60 years because you're obviously not getting anywhere?

So they take the time-traveling pilot to some super secret underground base and he tells them that the aliens aren't going to stop killing people until they release the one they have captive. By this point, most everybody is dead except for these army dudes and we have no clue how they survived or where they've been hiding for 60 plus years. I mean, when did the entire population get killed off? Where were they? Were their parents Army peeps too and they were born in the super secret underground base and just grew up as Army peeps too? These are important questions, people!

Anyway, so the general dude is like, "I don't know what you're talking about," even though he knows the pilot dude knows what's up because, hello, he was an alien captive (I guess) for over 60 years and he hasn't aged one bit. So they take him to see the captive alien and he screams some kind of weird alien scream and it breaks the glass and he jumps in there with the alien and attacks it and this one ninja chick (I forgot to mention that there was a ninja chick that appeared out of nowhere and started slicing alien ships in half with her sword. So bullets don't work, but swords do.) jumps in there and slices the time-traveling pilot's head off and you can see all the wires coming out of his neck because apparently he was just a robot and this weird little alien orb thing comes out of his head and they start shooting at it because all of a sudden they have guns even though they had to turn them in when they came into the super secret underground base thingy.

There was more shooting and then they go upstairs and the little alien orb thing flies right through this guy's stomach and he dies. They finally go back to the alien dude and apparently the ninja chick speaks alien (I feel so ridiculous typing this, by the way. It's like this movie was written by a bunch of five year-olds who broke into their parent's liquor cabinet and then decided to make a big pile of shit by combining the shit from a horse, 10 great danes, 5 pit bulls, a goat, 3 pigeons and 5 cows to see what would happen. This movie happened.). So the alien tells her that it wants Kel to fly it's spacecraft. Why? I don't know, they didn't ask. They just accepted it. Like they totally forgot about the time-traveling pilot that was actually an alien robot and they might have figured that out a lot sooner if they thought to ask any questions.

This is about the point where I fell asleep. I could watch the ending over so I could tell you what happened, but I'm not that dedicated to you. Sorry. I asked Pat what happened and I wish he would've just lied to me and made up some story that would've been better than the actual ending, but he didn't. He said that Kel flew the traitor alien's (I don't know how he became a traitor since it seems like the aliens wanted him back) into the heart of the giant spaceship, kinda like Will Smith did in Independence Day, though I'm sure he didn't have any cool one-liners like Will Smith. And he exploded something and left and it ended because their budget ran out and they're just relying on the fact that you've already seen Independence Day, so you know what's going to happen.

So there you go. Who knew that a movie with aliens, hot ninja chicks and time-traveling robot pilots would be so bad. I think if they threw some zombies in there, it would've been a lot better. I mean, how could they have not thought to put an alien zombie or two in there?

But hey, now you don't have to watch that movie because you already know what's going to happen.You're welcome.

Monday, June 13, 2011

On being excited over non-exciting things.

I meant to write this days ago. Really, I did. And you can't prove otherwise, so nyah!

Anyway, last week I went to a conference in San Francisco for a few days. I won't tell you which conference because I don't want to involve my work life into my fun blogging life. And because I don't want to be stalked by some creepazoid that has a shrine to me and my awesome blogs in his closet and lights candles every night while staring at my picture and saying, "oh yes, you will be mine. Someday, you will be mine. Beetle gully!" So you can take your stalking hats off now (what would a stalking hat look like? I'm imagining a sort of safari-type deal. Anyone have a different stalking hat? Maybe a baseball cap with various pieces of candy attached to it or something?).

Anytime you have the word conference and you don't put an awesome word or phrase, like bouncy or cheese doodle, in front of it, you're pretty much guaranteeing that you'll have a boring conference on your hands. Sure, it was interesting. I learned. I didn't fall asleep or get so bored that I started thinking about how cool it would be if a bunch of unicorns just barged in and handed out free ice cream (but, you gotta admit, that would be pretty cool). I am not bad-mouthing the conference, I'm just saying that generally the word "conference" is yawn-inducing.

Besides the icky knowledge-getting and the fact that my boss actually thought me good enough to take to the conference, there were a few cool highlights, some with pictures, but most without.

First, we took the train. I have never been on a train before. Sure, I had to get up at 5:30 in the morning. I never want to know what 5:30 in the morning looks like. Ever. Again. Unless it's because I've been partying all night with platypuses (platypi?) and we're all so drunk by that time that we think it's a good idea to climb on the roof to see the sun rise, and by the way, have you seen a platypus try to climb onto a roof? It can't be easy.

Most, if not all, of the riders were obviously people who have ridden the train before. You could tell by the way they were applying their makeup or writing deep intricate thoughts in their notebooks, only giving uninterested passing glances out the window (and that was only to see their reflection in the window to make sure their hair didn't get messed up). But not me. No, I was a dork on the train with my camera, taking pictures of things outside the window for your enjoyment (you're welcome). And people probably thought I was crazy because OMG, who hasn't ridden on a train before?!

Here's a great bay side property.

Anyone in need of a chair?

I went to school here!

I'm on a bridge!

The bay bridge. 

Yeah. I'm an awesome train photographer.

Then we took a bus. I didn't take any pictures on the bus because buses aren't as exciting as trains, and while it's okay to look like an inexperienced train rider, it's not okay to look like an inexperienced bus rider. Just trust me on this one.

And then we got off the bus and went to the conference. And yada, yada, yada. Guess what happened then?!

I got my own hotel room!

(Imagine a picture of a hotel room here.)

I've never had a hotel room all to my lonesome. Unless you count that half-night that I got stuck in Atlanta and slept for maybe four hours. But I don't. Four hours is not a full night, people!

And I got a free drink ticket and had a drink at the hotel bar all by myself and met a cute older couple from Germany and I just wanted to pack them up and take them home with me.

Other highlights: I stole a beer from a reception at the conference, my TV didn't work so I watched Hulu instead, my shoes made the metal detector go off in the conference's building, I learned some stuff that was actually pretty cool, I ate at Bubba Gump's with my momma (who so graciously came to pick me up and hang out in SF on my last day there), I bought a cool new Beatles hat and a cool new purse and other cool things, and I saw a flying port-a-potty.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

Being Sick is Not Awesome.

Let's talk about being sick. Why? Because I'm sick right now.

This is stupid. It's the beginning of June and I've got a freaking cold. I never get colds in the beginning of June because there's never a reason to get a cold in the beginning of June. I mean, seriously, weather? I don't know if anybody told you, but this is California, not the Midwest. We don't get thunderstorms and tornado warnings in June in California. People should be complaining about how hot it is now because even though it gets super hot every year, they seem to forget that fact by the time winter's over. It's like everybody doesn't realize that they live in California and it's going to get crazy melt-your-eyeballs-out hot.

Usually in June, I'm freaking out because I'm frantically studying for finals while trying to finish that one paper that my sadistic professor decided to have due on the day of the final. Seriously, who does that? And I'm all worried that I didn't study enough and that I'll fail whatever final it is and ultimately fail the class, which I have never done so it's kind of an unfounded worry, but I do it anyway.

Back to being sick. I went to work yesterday. Meaning, I got my sick and delirious ass up at 8 a.m., somehow got ready and drove 26.6 miles to work, where I was barraged with questions from my boss about why I was there and how I got there. After I confirmed that, yes, I did drive myself, the conversation ended with "you don't look good."

Great. So not only did I feel like a puddle of brain mush and snot, I looked like it too. It didn't help that I just got new glasses a few days ago and my eyes are still trying to adjust to being able to see so clearly when they were just fine with the slightly blurry vision that my old glasses provided me. So I had this kind of eyes-not-focusing-and-getting-slightly-dizzy shit going on and I couldn't tell if it was the cold or the glasses.

So I tried to work. And I'm sure I made many mistakes and I'm surprised that I didn't manage to somehow blow the whole building up even though I didn't have access to anything that would cause anything to blow up. And then I went home early because I wanted to leave before the big storm hit (and apparently, before all those tornado warnings...yes, tornado warnings. Thanks, weather.) and because I didn't want to blow everything up and I probably scared all of our patrons because nobody wants to see a big puddle of brain mush and snot when they come into a library.

So I may be turning into a zombie. It's not yet confirmed, but I'm starting to smell a bit like dead flesh and I can't help but drool when I pet Luna's head, like I can just smell her delicious brains, and that's never happened before so I'm sure it's not a good sign. So if you have to shoot my brains out because I'm trying to eat yours, then I forgive you in advance.