Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Monday, December 27, 2010
My idea is that if I read a book on my Kindle that I just absolutely love, I will then buy that book in the hard copy form and add it to my bookshelf.
Almost every classic is either free or less than a dollar, which is awesome.
The other plus? It keeps me from skipping to the end of the book to find out what happens. I know. I'm so, so bad about that.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Another gem from my favorite author - all "short" (not that short - sort of novellas) stories, each one of them pretty bleak and sinister. But oh, so good.
Monday, November 15, 2010
"Light My Fire" by Hans Zimmer ("The Holiday" Soundtrack)
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
I asked her what her favorite food was at Thanksgiving, and she said "I like the turkey." I told her to guess what my favorite Thanksgiving food is* and she said "...Chicken salad?"
Then we started talking about the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, and I said "You know, the Santa Claus at the end of the parade? Well, he's the real Santa Claus!"
She looked completely astonished. "What?" she sputtered.
I nodded. "Yep. My parents told me that it's really his only public appearance during the year." (They really did tell me this.)
For some reason, she just looked horrified. "You mean...it's the real Santa?"
This was not the reaction I had expected, and I said "Yeah, the real Santa."
She drew in a long, shaky breath and said "So...he doesn't spray pepper spray in everyone's eyes?"
"Pepper spray?" I asked.
She nodded solemnly. "Yes. My daddy told me that if I try to stay up to see Santa on Christmas Eve, and he catches me, he'll spray pepper spray in my eyes. That's what he does to kids who try to sneak around and see him."
Oh my Lord. I didn't know what to say to that. I just sat there for a minute and said "Well...he doesn't spray pepper spray at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade."
She whispered "Ok," but I'm pretty sure she wasn't convinced.
Well. That's one way to keep your kids in bed on Christmas Eve.
I wonder if her dad also told her that the Easter Bunny carries a machete, and the Tooth Fairy wields an AK-47...
*For the record, it's the dressing. The best part of dinner.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
How cool does the dude with the guitar look and how appropriate was their choice of song for him?
And how does that woman who's mimicking the violin during "At Last" get that high? How, Mariah Carey?
But the little girl crying at the end just gets me, and I can't help but happy cry.
It's my big red bow.
Monday, November 8, 2010
When I was in high school, I devoured Agatha Christie books. My favorite was And Then There Were None - it's such a classic (and classy) British mystery.
P.D. James reminds me of a slightly - I say slightly, because the lady turned 90 this year - more modern Agatha Christie. There aren't any huge thrills in this story, and the culprit was fairly easy to figure out, but it was satisfying. I'll be reading some more James soon.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Everyday Absurdities by Tyler Stanton
This video pretty much sums the humor of this book up. It's basically random vignettes of pet peeves, mostly all of which I completely identify and agree with.
Monday, November 1, 2010
"Here We Go" by Joshua Radin
Sorry this is a long intro - it's the only usable video of this song that I could find. But doesn't he remind you of Dermot Mulroney (from "My Best Friend's Wedding")?
Friday, October 29, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Everything was cool until about 4:00, when Ashleigh called to tell me she had seen a wall cloud on her way home from work (she got sent home early, too). She was telling me about it when all of a sudden she paused and turned up her radio. I heard the weather-guy practically yelling "It's moving at 86 miles per hour! There's rotation! There's rotation! It's heading down Drake...heading down Airport!"
I live off Airport.
Ashleigh yelled "It's right where you are!"
I said "Ok, going," hung up the phone, turned the tv up full blast so I could hear it from downstairs, grabbed Gilbert, and hoofed it into the stairwell below my apartment. Gilbert was not happy.
About 30 seconds after I sat down in the stairwell, everything went dark outside and rain began coming down in sheets. I could see the trees bending and straining and I thought "Um...this could be bad. This could be really...bad." Gilbert even stopped squirming, and I swear, he looked up at me as if to say "Oooook...I am not liking this. At. All."
It didn't help my state of mind to know that the apartment complex I live in was completely decimated 21 years ago...by a tornado.
Just when I started to inwardly panic just a little bit and had decided that I might have to break down the door of the first floor apartment to my left so I could huddle in their bathtub, it all stopped. The sun came out. To quote one of my favorite movies, "The Neverending Story," it was "like The Nothing never was."
I have to say - I'm still a little shaken up. You never think that it could literally happen to you, but it hit me yesterday that that's what everyone thinks. They're probably thinking that right before they die, be it in a car accident, freak fall, or even a tornado.
So. I'm going to be a little better prepared next time. I'm heading somewhere with a basement.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
When Arelene Fleet leaves Possett, Alabama, she promises God three things:
1)She will never fornicate again.
2)She will never tell a lie.
3)She will never, ever go back to Alabama.
She vows she'll do all these things, if God will keep His end of the deal - never let anyone find Jim Beverly's body.
I normally don't read Southern authors (being from the South, I feel I pretty much know all I need to know about good old Southern customs, thank you very much), but this book wasn't all "y'all" this and "cain't" that. It was a good mystery, and now I want to read more of Jackson's work. My only gripe is that I don't know any people close to my age named Arlene, Clarice, Jim, Rose Mae, or Ray. Not all Southerners choose their children's names from Gone with the Wind.
Sigh. I just love these books. No deep thinking required, and they never, ever fail to make me laugh out loud.
In this installment, Becky is pregnant with her and Luke's first child, and of course, she manages to mess up a bunch of stuff, and of course, it all turns out alright in the end. As predictable as this series is, I get super excited when a new book is published.
When I was in seventh grade, my so-called best friend wrote me a long letter telling me that she no longer wanted to be my friend. Her reason? I wasn't cool enough. She had found someone cooler. And that was that. Afterwards, she proceeded to make middle school unbearable for me - making fun of me in front of everybody else, spreading rumors about me, etc..*
This book tells the story of Addie and Valerie, best friends since third grade. When they're both in high school, Valerie betrays Addie in a monumental way and they part ways, seemingly forever. 18 years later, Valerie shows up on Addie's door, begging for help. She's convinced she's killed one of their classmates.
The story that follows is an amazing tale of forgiveness and friendship re-born. I don't know if I could have moved past the high school betrayal, but I'd like to think I could. In keeping with Weiner's other books (Good in Bed, In Her Shoes, etc.), the protagonists are likeable and believable.
*This girl came to see me a few years ago. She had fallen on extremely hard times, and all the rage melted away from me when I realized that she was just a pitiful person looking for forgiveness. I also realized that who we are in middle school is, nine times out of ten, nowhere near the person we turn out to be as an adult. Thank God. I wore stone-washed jeans and pink glasses.
*Maybe I should retitle my blog "That's What She Read," because I realize that I'm posting a zillion book-related posts today, but I have a backlog because I've been extremely lazy with my posting duties. Sorry.*
I never read the Traveling Pants series, so this is the first book I've read by Brashares. The premise of the story is that reincarnation is a fact (which of course I don't hold with, but it made for a really cool story), and most people have absolutely no memories of their former lives. There are a very few people in the world who do, and the main character of the book, Daniel, is one of them. Every life, he finds and falls in love with the same girl - Sophia. Unfortunately, Sophia never remembers her past life with Daniel, and he has to make her fall in love with him all over again. Sophia always vows that she will try to remember, but she never does.
At the beginning of this current life, Daniel once again finds Sophia (now named Lucy) living in Virginia, and finds that she does have some memories of their past lives and love. He is ecstatic, but soon realizes that they have a shared enemy from their past - someone else who remembers all of his lives, and has sworn revenge upon both Daniel and Sophia.
I really did like this book, but when I reached the end I realized that Brashares hadn't resolved at least 40% of the plot. I was supremely annoyed until I read that this is going to be part of a trilogy. I can handle that.
The story got a little too syrupy lovey-dovey at some points, but all in all, I really did like it.
Sometimes I wish I could be like some of the other great bloggers that I follow and read really "deep" books, but honestly - I prefer a good novel over most anything else.
Erik Larson writes nonfiction as if it was fiction. I get totally caught up in the real-life characters, and have to restrain myself from Wikipedia-ing the actual events so I don't spoil the rest of the book. The Devil in the White City focuses on the story of how the amazing Chicago's World Fair came about and ties it to America's first real documented serial killer, Dr. H. H. Holmes (and man, oh man - he makes Ted Bundy look like a pansy). I was hooked from the first chapter.
Monday, October 11, 2010
No biggie. But I am a single lady (whoop whoop, Beyonce), and it IS Atlanta, so I wasn't all that keen on going there by myself. Which is where my bright idea happened:
I asked my Dad (who pastors a church in Alabama) to come with me.
I picked him up at my parents' house on Wednesday night, and we drove the two hours to Atlanta together. I have to hand it to him - he let me sing along to Imogen Heap, Band of Horses, Iron & Wine, and William Fitzsimmons (ok, and maybe lots of "Glee" songs...) all the way there and didn't leave my car supremely depressed.
We got to our hotel around 11 PM Georgia time, and checked in to our hotel room. Yep. One room. We had decided to save some money and stay in one room. Ok. Let it be said that I haven't shared a hotel room with either one of my parents since about tenth grade, but I wasn't that worried. I chose the bed by the a/c since Dad gets a sore throat pretty easily. He got me to watch an episode of "NCIS" (not too bad) and I forced him to watch some "LA Ink." He at least pretended to not be horrified when a he-she arrived at High Voltage asking for a full-back tattoo of a stripper (at which point he looked at me with concern and said "Amanda...you wouldn't...ever do THAT, would you...?" I just gave him a withering "do-you-know-me-at-ALL?" look).
We turned off the lights at about 1 AM, and Dad immediately fell asleep. At first, he was doing this little cute "puff puff" of air breathing, and I thought "Well, that's not so bad." While he was puffing away, I realized that I could clearly hear the tinkling lobby music from downstairs. I had just realized that they were playing a bar piano version of "Hit Me Baby, One More Time" when Dad's puffing turned into a death rattle snore. There was no buildup. Just full on potential death noises.
I actually sat up to look at him just to make sure that he wasn't swallowing his tongue or something. But, no. He even had a slight smile on his face.
I finally drifted off to sleep around 5 AM, just in time for the alarm to wake me up at 5:45. By that point, Dad sat up, stretched like a Folgers coffee commercial star, and went to shave. I, on the other hand, when it was my turn, moved like a zombie.
The first day of the conference was completely amazing. The music was great, the speakers were fantastic, and I got choked up about a zillion times. Afterwards, Dad and I went to dinner and had a really wonderful conversation about church, God, loving God, loving other people, books, etc. It's always wonderful to realize that you actually like your parents - not just because they're your parents, but because they're truly likable and interesting people.
I slept like a rock the second night, snoring or no snoring, and we headed back for the second day of the conference. We ended up sitting by a girl with a Gatorade bottle.
Ok. I've mentioned several times that I can't stand to hear people eating loudly. It drives me nuts. I've also mentioned that my dad and I share a frustration with people who distract us at the movies, etc. After she downed her Gatorade, this chick just kept squeezing her bottle.
Pop. Pop. POP. Crack. Swoosh. Pop. Pop. CRACK!
No one else seemed to notice. I was starting to feel panicked, because I could not concentrate on T.D. Jakes at all. All I could hear was the bottle. My dad was actually sitting right next to her, and I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He was rocking back and forth just slightly, which meant he definitely heard it.
Suddenly, he leaned over to the girl and said in his kindest, pastoral tone "Honey? Could you stop that? It's completely irritating."
Part of me was relieved he'd finally gotten her to stop, but part of me wanted to sink through the floor. Oh, well. Like daughter, like father. (However, she got her revenge - about a minute later, she began to methodically rip the label off the bottle, all the while giving my dad the Stink Eye.)
Both Dad and I left the conference totally rejuvenated and ready to write bestselling Christian books and/or praise and worship music. We'll see. I'm definitely going again next year, and I hope my dad goes with me. He's a great conference buddy.
I'll just make sure to bring earplugs next time.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
It’s not that I don’t like children. I do. But I have a working theory about certain children, and it’s this: the weird kids always manage to find me. You know the ones I’m talking about, and let’s face it, there are tons of them out there. But let’s talk about the three most popular versions.
Weird Kid Type 1: The silent, creepy variety. They lurk behind their parents with large zombie eyes and pale skin (always pale skin). Their parents are always desperate to prove to you that their kid is not in fact a WK, but in their efforts to prove otherwise, they do the exact opposite. They’re always begging the child to "answer Ms. So-and-So’s question..." and "Don't be rude, honey...say thank you." Meanwhile, creepy kid just continues to stare at you with unbridled horror, as if they’re expecting you to drag them into a van full of candy with razorblades tucked inside the wrappers. Creepy kids never speak, but you can always imagine a late-night horror movie scene involving a stormy night, a pair of scissors, them standing over their parents’ beds, and a children’s choir singing off-key Latin phrases with tons of reverb.
Weird Kid Type 2: This Kid Will Be in Jail in Ten Years variety. This is the most popular version, in my opinion. This is the child who is running through the grocery store, laughing hysterically while methodically knocking items off of shelves and hitting and/or biting either a younger sibling or an innocent passerby. There is always a weary parent dragging behind this kid, saying "Please. Don’t. Stop. Please. Don’t. Stop." I bet they say that in their sleep. If the parent actually does manage to catch his/her kid, the kid immediately begins to scream "NOOO! NOOOOOOOOO!" This scream is usually followed by the sound of something breaking or someone else crying (usually the mother, out of frustration). And then they’re off again.
Weird Kid Type 3: Just...weird. As in, "Hi, my name is Arthur, and I have memorized an entire volume of the encyclopedia. The 'R' volume. What do you want to know about rodents? I know everything about rodents. I don’t really like rodents, but I know how long they sleep, and what they eat, and I know how many baby rodents are probably living in your cabinets. And I know about real estate, too. It was in the 'R' volume too, you know. Real estate. I might go into real estate. I bet I can tell you how much your house is worth. Ask me. Go on. Ask me." Their mother is constantly smiling weakly at you, patting Arthur’s head while he insists that you paid too much money for your house. After he trots off to build an entire futuristic village with his Legos, she’ll say in a proud, exhausted, and hushed tone, "Arthur’s just so smart. He’s in the gifted class, you know. He’s usually up by 4 AM, and so, you know. I get up then, too. So we’re learning how all the creatures in ‘Lord of the Rings’ could be made from modeling clay. And he’s such a perfectionist. I once called Gandalf 'Giddalf' by mistake, and Arthur went into his room for about eight hours. He only came out when I told him I had made his favorite meal - Lucky Charms with only the pink marshmallows. He’s just so smart. And. Yes. So...he’s just so gifted!"
My mother once told me that if I ever have kids, I'll probably end up with one of these versions. But see...I think that if I did, I'd just have to sit the kid down and say "Billy/Sally? Guess what? Mom has something to talk to you about. You're becoming a WK. And Mommy can't have that. So we're going to work on it."
Can you force a kid to be an NK? A normal kid? I think I might be able to. Because I can be a SA.
A Scary Adult.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
Everything was going great until the second verse. When I swallowed the wrong way.
I immediately began to inwardly panic, because along with being slow and meaningful, this song has no breaks between verses and choruses. As in, no time to cough or clear my throat.
And I really had to cough - the big, hacking, "is she dying?" kind of coughing fit. My eyes started filling with tears, and I'm sure I flushed all over.
So instead of coughing, I started trying to sneak as many swallows in as possible to try and force my spasming windpipe to behave:
"Oh, to know (swallow) the joy (swallow) of Your risen life (swallow swallow) and to kn(swallow)ow You in (swallow) Your suff(swallow)ering..."
Yeah. Not my best effort. But I made it through the rest of the song without losing a lung on stage, and hobbled back to my seat with an aura of shame.
After the service, I pulled Jeremy aside and said "I am SO sorry. I got choked!" He looked me in the eyes with compassion, and placed his hand on my shoulder. "Amanda," he said solemnly, "I know. It's such an emotional song. I've gotten choked up on that song, too."
It took me a moment to catch his drift, but I barked out a laugh and said "No, no...CHOKED...not choked UP. I swallowed the wrong way!"
Jeremy was silent for a moment, and then he let out a huge hooting laugh. "I totally thought you had been 'overcome by the Spirit' or something!"
Nope. Just saliva.
On my way to Sunday School, no less than three people stopped to tell me how moved they were by my obvious emotional connection to the song.
I just nodded and said "Yes, it really does move you, doesn't it?"
I wonder if Chris Tomlin ever lies like that...
Yep. Probably not.
Monday, August 9, 2010
I'm sure by now everybody's seen this.
The first time I watched it, I have to admit - I cried laughing. And the second time. And the third...
But I really wish I had a video of my friend Lea Anne watching this for the first time. She literally fell onto the floor laughing when he sputtered out "...What does this MEAN?"
So. Thank you, Double Rainbow Guy. All the way. Across the sky.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
"War of My Life" by John Mayer
John Mayer may be a total jerk in reality, but you have to admit - he writes some pretty awesome music.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
Thursday, July 8, 2010
It comes out in August. I'm so excited, I can barely stand it.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
You make me violent when you are running through stores in unsupervised gangs.
I can hear your hysterical laughter coming at me while I'm trying to concentrate on which coffee creamer I want. I see you making your way from the feminine products aisle. I realize that it's completely hilarious that women have periods. If you even see the word "incontinence" printed on anything, you will yell it repeatedly to your four other friends who are busy testing every lotion on display the next aisle over.
While I'm busy hauling cat litter into my shopping cart, you are piggy backing each other from the toilet paper aisle to the baked goods aisle. One of your group, who obviously suffers from severe voice im-modulation, since she's about twenty decibels louder than the Sixpence None the Richer song being piped over the speakers, is squealing "And...ohmigosh, she actually. Said. That. To me. And like...whatever. I don't care. I don't care."
I apologize for giving you the stink eye when we all ended up in the checkout line together and you managed to step on my toe while simultaneously cutting in front of me.
I'm sorry that I called you "stupid crazy kids" under my breath, but loud enough for you to hear me and look at me in that "who is this crazy middle aged woman?" way.
But mostly, I'd like to thank you for making me so, so happy that I don't have children right now. Seriously. I've never been so grateful to drive home in my car. Alone. And to walk into my apartment and silence.
But if you step on my toe again, we will throw down.
And I will win.
Monday, July 5, 2010
So. If I heat up some soup in the microwave once or twice a week, I feel pretty good about my culinary skills.
I do, however, subscribe to this newsletter. I've never actually attempted to make any of the delicious looking recipes that Deb sends out, because they appear to be really, really...tough. Zucchini and Ricotta Galette (I don't even know what "galette" is. Seriously.). Lamb Chops with Pistachio Tapenade. Carrot Salad with Harissa, Feta, and Mint. I think that an attempt at any of these admittedly scrumptious sounding dishes would leave me covered in whatever harissa is, and most likely - crying.
But today I tried something. I tried this recipe. And I'm in love.
It's super easy. All I really needed was a toaster and a skillet. I substituted cream cheese for the goat cheese, and used sourdough bread. I followed Deb's instructions to the letter, and I can't believe how delicious it is. I seriously felt like I was eating it at some fancy schmancy French cafe, instead of curled up in my recliner, watching reruns of "The Golden Girls."
I ate it for breakfast, and I'm already thinking about making it again for lunch. It was that good.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
"From Western Woods to Beaversdam" - "The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe" soundtrack
This song makes me want to read the books and watch the movies again. They're both magical.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Ok, let's be real. Is there really anything funnier than Animal?
Not much, I'd say.
"Do You Sleep?" by Lisa Loeb & Nine Stories
This was the very first CD I ever got - my dad bought it for me for Christmas in 1994. I knew every word to every song. And I still do.
And I'd still kill for a pair of those glasses. So brainy cute.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Yikes. I keep saying it out loud when I'm by myself. "I am 30 years old. I am...30...years old." And no matter how I slice it, it feels weird.
However, according to my friend Lea Anne, if 40 is the new 30, then 30 is the new 20. Or maybe even 15. So I'm actually underage again. Which is cool.
I did have a fantastic birthday week, though.
I kicked it off by going to see my very favorite in the whole wide world singer, Imogen Heap (who is in her early thirties, single, and fabulous, thank you very much) with Ashleigh in Nashville. So much fun.
My sweet coworkers took me to lunch on Thursday, and even sang an almost (unintentionally) sacred hymn type setting of "Happy Birthday to You!" to me.
Lea Anne and I spent an entire day at the outdoor mall and browsed through my home-away-from-home, Anthropologie, until we'd seen every item. Then we met up with some more girls from work for dessert at The Melting Pot. (Melted chocolate? Yes, please.)
I spent Saturday, the day before my birthday, doing exactly what I wanted to do, which included a movie (by myself, with whatever candy I wanted), a couple of hours browsing Barnes and Noble, a couple of hours reading, repainting my closet doors a buttery yellow, and watching my favorite movie, "The Holiday," while eating ice cream.
On Sunday, I got asked out - not by my current crush, Cute Church Guy, but still. As Sue Sylvester would say "Not really my type, but I like that attitude."
I drove to my sister's house to hang out for a while, and then my parents came over and we went to her church, where my entire family sang some good old Southern gospel. On the way to my sister's church, Cute Church Guy called me to wish me happy birthday. Day made, thank you.
After church, my family took me out to dinner and brought out a chocolate cake (see picture above).
Along with the abundance of Facebook happy birthday wishes, I feel like a very loved girl.
And I'm ready to dive into this decade. Who knows what's in store? It's kind of exciting.
And on that note, here's my theme song for this year (and probably many to come). I first heard this song on the finale of "Felicity" (dear departed, wonderful gem of a show), and I immediately ordered the CD.
Best line (well, verse):
"I've spent a long time as myself, or the self I used to be. He was one in a long line of people imitating me...So just forget the things I used to say - chances are good that I don't feel that way anymore. It's hard to keep track, but there's no going back, since I was born yesterday..."
"Born Yesterday" by Mike Schmid
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Thursday, June 10, 2010
spotted on Ruffled
And while I'm dreaming, I'd also like this bride's complexion, hair, eye color, and figure.
But seriously. Beautiful. And check out those gorgeous vintage teal shoes!
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Friday, June 4, 2010
Which brings me to "Glee." I really, really love this show, along with about 99% of America. I think it's because a huge part of me wishes there was a time machine that would catapult me back to high school and enable me to re-live pivotal moments. And when I did re-live those moments, I would approach them with either Sue Sylvester or Rachel Berry in mind.
Cases in point:
Super-duper crush (or SDC) isn't as into me as I'm into him.
Real Amanda circa 1998: Pines from afar. Never reveals true feelings to SDC, but writes lots of Fiona Apple-esque songs and terrible poetry equating her love for him to a dagger tattoo. Yep. A dagger. Tattoo.
Time Machine Amanda as Rachel Berry: Would sing an elaborately staged version of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" at SDC. Seriously at him. As in, standing right in front of him, looking ticked off and longing, all at the same time.
Mean Girl of the Century (you know who you are) makes fun of me in front of entire class.
Real Amanda circa 1994: Loses all ability to fire back a really good comeback. Just stands open-mouthed, fists clenched, and lets MGotC continue to behave like Paris Hilton.
Time Machine Amanda as Sye Sylvester: Would get close enough to MGotC to hug her, and then whisper in her ear "I am about to vomit down your back."
I really like to sing - really love it - but am embarrassed to sing anything other than Point of Grace-type songs (in church, with sister and mother) for fear of mockery.
Real Amanda circa 1996: Finally works up courage to sing a Jewel song for contemporary music class, despite having just received an awful Celine Dion mullet haircut. Looks uncomfortable for entire song, although does manage to glance a little bit too much at SDC while singing "you were meant for me...and I was meant for yoooooou..."
Time Machine Amanda as Rachel Berry and Sue Sylvester: Would walk up to SDC and say "You sunk my battleship, _________. You sunk it hard." Would then grab SDC's hand and force him to duet with me on "Don't Stop Believing." Magical band would materialize behind us, along with professional dancers. Also, I would have gorgeous flowing locks reaching my butt, which I would swish sexily and confidently while I belted out "living just to FIND EMOTION!"
Yeah. A time machine. It could happen. We have the iPad now, after all. Time travel can't be that far away. And when it happens - I'm so, so prepared.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
"Everybody Learns from Disaster" by Dashboard Confessional
"We stayed in the sun too long...suffered a terrible burn..."
Seems appropriate for the weather here lately.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Ashleigh gave me these hydrangeas from her garden, and my home office is brighter already.
Now if only Gilbert doesn't decide that I put them out as his personal salad...
Monday, May 24, 2010
Saturday, May 22, 2010
"Casimir Pulaski Day" by Sufjan Stevens
I like the honesty in this song. Sometimes we don't understand why God allows pain to occur in our lives, but it doesn't mean we don't trust Him and that we don't keep praying.