"Oh, You Better Watch Out...."

I have news of a wonderous variety! I am famous yet again! And by "famous," I mean "nobody knows who the hell I am!" Nor do they care to! I am, of course, speaking of the wonderful new Cake Wrecks book that just came out and is on bookstore shelves as we speak. You recall that awesome website, right? Well, they put out a book with new and old wrecks galore! And if you all care to turn with me to page 47, you will see a very familiar face staring back at you:

Rudolph the Poop-torsoed Reindeer has staged a return more historic than MacArthur storming the Philippines! Unfortunately, my kitchen linoleum is not book-famous as they cut it out of the photo for printing, which means only my money is famous now, in that it was my money that bought the stupid cake in the first place. Not even my colon, which graciously digested the cake, is famous as no one cares that I sacrificed my health to ingest such a wreckacular wonder. I really should be getting awards for this kinda selfless stuff, you know? Something big made of gold with the words "Humble Genius" somewhere on there. Yeah, that should do it.

"We Help Daddy Win a Lawsuit Against Big Tobacco"

See, here's the thing, folks. I only have so much free time in a day. I use that time either writing on my blog or reading yours. And when I have many writer-crazy friends that means I spend two hours reading their stuff instead of writing my own. You can't have it both ways, people. So quit writing about your families and other crap you love. Then we'll be getting somewhere here.

I just finished reading Peawhistle her bedtime story. She chose "We Help Daddy," one of the classic Golden Books I had as a child and passed along to her. I am always struck by the shear number of chores these people (Daddy, Benjy, and little Sue) are able to accomplish, particularly given the fact that two of the three contributors are apparently under the age of five and by definition a liability rather than an asset. Any other man in "Daddy's" situation would take upwards of 56 hours to accomplish what this fellow does in just one day. He amazes me. And on top of that, "Daddy" also smokes like a chimney. He's like the Energizer Bunny, but with emphysema.

The book also shows "Mommy" baking cookies in the kitchen--I'm assuming all day long, because really, that's why I don't bother with them. Peawhistle pointed and said, "Look! That Mommy's making cookies! Just like BStephanie!" You'll notice she did not bother to assume I would ever do the same, or was even capable of such. At least her expectations aren't high.

Halfway through their day, the kids help Daddy bathe Zip, their dog, who according to legend hates baths. Zip reminds me of Peanut, who has despised baths since the day he was born. And I don't mean that he fusses or cries a little. He FREAKS THE HELL OUT. He begins to tremble the second you even start to clean the bathtub. You'd think I were pouring acid on him or something (I'm not). This is why I strongly suspect he's a witch.

Today it snowed again. Snow twice in the course of 30 days?? Crazy talk you say! Indeed. I was especially pleased though, that the snow didn't confuse our refuse collection fellows today as it did last week when the dusting of snow on our white trash bags camouflaged them so effectively that ours were the only trashbags left on our entire street after the fellows had come and gone. Nevermind that our trashbags were sitting right there on the sidewalk and thus created unnatural two-foot-high lumps on said sidewalk. Why no, we haven't installed sidewalks two feet higher than everyone else's, although we are trying to discourage visitors! (TAKE THE HINT ALREADY.) But white=snow, so no trash collection for you, jerks!

One last thought. No, two. First I have to click my tongue at Bob Carol on principle. No wonder he wound up in London running a halfway house. And second, it's also no wonder Congress has no trouble handing out cash left and right to any Tom, Dick, or Harry, Inc. since it's not their money they're giving away. PAY YOUR TAXES YOU SPENDTHRIFT HOSERS. We have little enough respect for you as it is without being forced to also give you a completely free ride for the rest of your worthless term in office. There's a place specially reserved for the worst of the worst of society like you, you leeches! It's called Annapolis! NO GPS FOR YOU!!

I Should Have Had a Model in a Sequined Dress

The results from the Post-it Note NieNie Free Book Prize Drawing are in and there are TWO winners! Yes, two winners! Why? Because I'm saintly. Also, because I decided that Heidi deserved a book no matter what, because within two hours of my quiz posting she had coughed up all of the answers, every whit correct on each and every one. She made me happy. It was also proved to me that the Fates wanted her to have one because I put her name in the drawing for laughs anyway and hers was the first name I drew out. So congratulations to Heidi! As soon as I get the books in the mail yours will be out the door to you.

And the second winner in the drawing was....Stephanie! Congratulations, Stephanie! She answered everything more or less correctly and got it in within the deadline I gave to her since my original deadline was before she even came home from vacation. So she got another day to get them in. Good job to her and to everyone who took the time to take the quiz and trip down memory lane with me in hopes of free prizes.

And now, for your edification, here are the answers:

1) Who or what do I consider my arch nemesis? Annapolis. Or more accurately, "the blasted city of Annapolis" as Stephanie, one of our winners you recall, answered.

2) Why is my kitchen linolium famous? There's a photo of it up on Cake Wrecks with my poopy Rudolph cake on top of it.

3) Who did Mark Austin tour with when I saw him in concert? Janis Ian. Remember, that's just one of the time when I got lost in Annapolis. You see how it all links together with me?

4) Say you chuck your model of the USS Constitution down two flights of stairs. Who could you get to fix that for you? Jerome Morris. Yes, that Mainer artist extraordinaire who indeed read my blog post about him and never spoke another word to me. I don't think he was nearly as amused as I was. I've said it before and I'll say it again: the theme of my blog is "It's funny when it's not you." On a related note, if you or your wealthy parents would like to pester Mr. Morris during a lovely and relaxing vacation to the coast of Maine, we rent our beautiful family cottage (it sleeps 6! Or 7 1/2 if you like couches!) out for the summer. Email me. We'll talk prices.

5) What is Michael Phelps's real name? Bob Carol. Oh, like he wouldn't be just as good at swimming with a name like that? Please.

6) What do I absolutely NOT OWN A COLLECTION OF? Barbie dolls. A non-collection that has grown since I last wrote about it, by the way.

7) Name one professional organization that is stalking me. DNC, NSA, FBI, Smithsonian . I'd tell them to give it up, but I fear I'm just too addictive.

8) Why is my dad so good at hiding Easter eggs? He is a former USAF intelligence officer trained in the art of being masterly sneaky. Or as Heidi, our first winner, put it, "Because he was a career USAF officer with Jason Bourne-like skills at hiding documents from the KGB-impersonating counterintelligence guys." Right on, Heidi.

9) They're foreign and ridiculously, unintentionally funny. Who are they? Celtic Thunder/Celtic Man. To quote Gwennifer, "I didn't realize it was possible to feel physically assaulted by a singing group, but I now know the feeling." So do the rest of us. So do the rest of us.

10) Who has mastered the art of the Evil Eye to the point of making me poop my pants? The ever-endearing, overly self-confident, and always entertaining Dr. Combat. Did I mention healthgrades.com tells you where your doctors work? And that it told me Dr. Combat is alive and still in the Army torturing others at yet another Army hospital? It's nice to know he hasn't been stripped of his natural environment.

Many thanks again to everyone who participated. I wish I was rich enough to give books to everyone who submitted answers because you all deserve it. For everyone but Heidi and Stephanie, go buy the book! If you buy the digital copy all proceeds go to the NieNie Fund; the hardcopy version gives all proceeds minus $8 printing costs. Hurry! Buy it! Be famous by association! And do something nice for a nice couple with four nice kids who suffered unmeasurable tragedy. Go. Buy. Help. And feel good about yourselves afterward.

Free Books and Quizzes for NieNie

Hey, hey, hey, remember when I told you about that blogger book that was being made for the NieNie Recovery Fund? And how a bunch of funny blog entries were chosen from 43 different authors (even me if you can stomach that) to make up this book to make it as funny as possible? And that all profits would go towards helping pay for the Nielson's medical bills and such? And how I would give you more information once the book was ready for purchase? WELL HANG ON TO YOUR HATS, 'CAUSE THE BOOK IS HERE. Grab a Kleenex if you have to.

SO. How can you procure this marvel for your very own coffee tables to wow and impress your friends, family, and unwanted houseguests (assuming they aren't all one and the same)? By clicking here, you silly ducks! Now, you'll also note that there is a downloadable version, allowing you to obtain The Brilliance within minutes rather than days, plus you avoid that mindboggling $5 shipping charge. On the other hand, you won't have anything to show off to people, plus it's hard to read it in the bathroom like that unless you drag your computer in there with you (if you do this, please don't tell me). But I'm not your mother so do whatever makes you happy. You know, just as long as you spend at least $19.60 (or multiples thereof) in the process.

BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE. If there are two things my readers have in common, it's that they're incredibly cheap and lazy. I am nothing if not accommodating in this regard. This is why I've sold my soul for charity and will host The First and Hopefully Only Delusions of Grandeur Giveaway!! Here's how this will work. This will work for all you tightwads out there since as the prize you will get one hardcopy of "Something Cleverish" for your very own on my dime. As an added bonus, you will be getting the Special Limited Edition of "Something Cleverish!" Why so special you ask? Because I will personally forge all 42 autographs of every other author in the book, accompanied by personal wishes from each and every one! I will now place my fingers in my ears since I hear you all screaming something about illegalities and lawsuits. LA LA LA LA LA, I CAN'T HEAR YOU, MY CHARITABLE HEART IS DROWNING OUT ALL OF YOUR BUMMER WORDS.

For all you lazy folks (same folks mind you), you won't be as into this next part. You'll have to answer questions to get it, and don't tell me it ain't gonna happen because at least one person already said she'd do it; if you don't want her to get it, then get on the ball. The person who answers the most questions correctly (emailed to me; any answers posted in the comments section will be deleted) will get a FREE book either hand delivered or mailed to his or her very own residence! If more than one of you actually bothers with this and answers the same number correctly, I'll close my eyes and choose at random. Fair enough? Good. Then the rest of you hosers will have to buy the book on your own. (Remember! It's for charity! And it's funny! Buying it counts for 25+ points for getting into Heaven.) All of the answers for this quiz can be found within the bowels of this blog (i.e., you don't have to know me to get them right). All responses are due in my inbox by Tuesday (the 20th) night at midnight EST. And...GO!

THE DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR QUIZ OF A LIFETIME

1) Who or what do I consider my arch nemesis?

2) Why is my kitchen linolium famous?

3) Who did Mark Austin tour with when I saw him in concert?

4) Say you chuck your model of the USS Constitution down two flights of stairs. Who could you get to fix that for you?

5) What is Michael Phelps's real name?

6) What do I absolutely NOT OWN A COLLECTION OF?

7) Name one professional organization that is stalking me.

8) Why is my dad so good at hiding Easter eggs?

9) They're foreign and ridiculously, unintentionally funny. Who are they?

10) Who has mastered the art of the Evil Eye to the point of making me poop my pants?

See? Too easy. Remember, no answers in the comments; please email your answers instead. Feel free to use the comments section to ask questions about the blog book, though.

Seriously though, buy the book. Everyone always says to themselves, "Gosh, I'd love to help but I don't know how!" Here's how. It even makes it easy by taking PayPal. Go on. Do the right thing: buy and feel good about it now, and then feel amused several days from now. It's win-win.

And YOU Thought I Wasn't Funny

The list of chosen authors for the NieNie Recovery Fund Book have been named and, miraculously, I'm one of them. Time to get down off the chair and untie the noose, Abby, you're going big time (for charity of course)! This is quite an honor indeed, since out of 350-400 (Sue liked to keep us guessing apparently; that, or she's senile and/or crazy) entries, only 40 (including Sue herself, and quasi-celebrities like Eric D. Snider and Seriously So Blessed's TAMN) were chosen. Holy crap.

A lot of you are here from Sue's blog and to you I say welcome. And I'll hazzard a guess and say most of you are also here wondering how on earth I got picked, seeing that I'm clearly unamusing in every sense of the word. I'm assuming I got picked pretty much because my post had exactly the right number of words they were looking for to fit in the book. I'm talented that way.

A great big thank you to Sue and her fellow judges for choosing my Post That Shall Be Unnamed Forthwith Upon Threat of Dismemberment By Sue. And even though I was going to name her in my suicide note if I didn't get picked, I still wouldn't have been angry if I hadn't been on Sue's short list in the end. Because, seriously.

Details about the book (includes 10% more Abby than last week!) and how you can purchase this wonder in publishing achievement will be forthcoming.

The Long Awaited and Now Entirely Forgotten Review

OK, I figure I've put it off long enough to where most people have forgotten I said I was going to do it. Perfect!

I haven't felt exceeding levels of motiviation to review "Twilight" for two reasons: 1) Half of you cornered me the day after I saw it and asked me my opinion then, and 2) You're all going to be very disappointed in what I have to say anyway. Allow me to explain, won't you?

Let's start with an example. Stephanie (you remember Stephanie) knew the movie would suck, but still held out a glimmer of hope that it wouldn't be as bad as she feared. She wound up hating it. Now class, who can point out where she went wrong? Anyone? Anyone? Yes, that's right, the part where she hoped it wouldn't suck. That was her big mistake. You will discover throughout the rest of my comments here that with regard to Twilight, hope is your worst enemy.

Now let's take another example, that being Ethel, who I also saw the film with. Ethel knew the movie would suck. She hoped for nothing, including coming out without having slit her wrists to end the pain. Ethel walked away from the film pleasantly surprised.

I know how Ethel felt, because I had much the same experience as she. Before the film came out I watched the youtube videos of the Twilight film in production and all versions of previews to be had. Why? Because I did not want to go into this film unprepared, specifically for the worst. The previews alone sent me spiraling into a deep abyss of personal horror. The previews are supposed to be examples of the best parts of a film to entice potential viewers to see it. And the previews were embarrassingly bad. The preproduction videos were even worse. I've decided there's only one thing worse than seeing a trainwreck and that's watching it actually happen. Such were the preproduction videos. Even now the thought of them make me heave just a little. "This is gonna be BAD," I said to myself. I went to see it anyway.

What I discovered while watching the film was that I had successfully set my expectations low enough in nearly every category enough to be satisfied. Two categories though, were a problem for me. The first was the special effects of the film. I recall watching the preproduction shots and thinking, "Man, those special effects look awful. I sure hope (DANGER WILL ROBINSON, DANGER) they aren't nearly as bad in the film itself!" They were. Worse even. And they left me intensely disappointed. I didn't expect much mind you, but I expected them to look better than that. It was not to be so. In fact, what they had saved from showing in the previews for us to marvel at in the film itself were some of the silliest effects of the whole movie. I realize they were working with a tight budget, but how do you screw that up so monumentally? They really should have warned us that Edward's version of "running" would resemble more what a cat does when he doesn't want to be picked up but you pick him up anyway--that comical sort of leg-flinging in midair sorta thing. I only recall chuckling twice during the film, and that was one of them.

The other chuckle I got was contributed in large part by reading Eric D. Snider's review of the film first. If you haven't checked out his film reviews before, you are seriously missing out. The worse the grade he gives a movie, the funnier the review. Not only are his reviews hilariously harsh and sarcastic, but he uses a great deal of hyperbole to make his point. When he said that Carlisle's make-up job was so bad he looked like a mime, I laughed out loud thinking, "Oh Eric, your exaggerations sure do crack me up!" And then when I actually saw Carlisle onscreen with caked-on makeup so extreme and pasty white he actually looked like a mime, I again laughed out loud, because honestly, what are the odds? And how can a director look through a film camera and NOT see what that man looks like?

Aside from those two issues, the rest of the film left me either on track with my original lack of hope or even pleasantly surprised. I need to point out, not surprised because it was good, but because it wasn't nearly as bad as I had prepared myself for. I remember thinking about halfway through, "You know, this is actually kinda cute!" I still think that. It was cute--much cuter than I had ever anticipated. And to boot, the acting wasn't as bad as I had anticipated, either. It was bad, no question. But not AS bad. Are you catching on now? I was even impressed that Kristen Stewart seemed to not be playing herself once or twice. Congratulations, Kristin, you little twit! You didn't hose up the movie entirely by yourself!

Speaking of which, I will also admit that the truck-cruching scene was waaaaay better than I assumed it would be based upon preproduction videos. It was actually kind of exciting! And not just due to the thrill of seeing Kristin Stewart almost get crushed to death! It actually looked almost realistic, with great sound effects and everything. So props to the film for having one awesome five-second scene! W00t!!

And I will also gladly compliment Twilight on its modest levels of humor. I recall laughing out loud several times throughout the two hours at honestly funny jokes. A couple were duds, but by and large, the jokes were funny and by and large, all of the good ones came from Bella's dad, Charlie. Billy Burke (the actor who plays Charlie) has been in comedies before (most notably "Jane Austin's 'Mafia!'") and his excellent comedic timing and deadpan delivery did not go unnoticed by me. He was the best part of that whole film (other than Kristen getting squashed).

We were in an audience full of several different kinds of folks, ranging from the young girls to senior citizens out on their date night. And several times during the film we had moments full of laughter that was not intentional by the film. I didn't understand this. If they had done even the slightest amount of research, none of the crappiness they saw should have surprised them to the point of laughter. Who honestly went into this movie thinking it would be good? Like, on normal scales of achievement? Who did these people think they were kidding?

If you have yet to see the film because you live under a rock or are as cheap as all get out, approach the film the same way you should have approached the books: with a healthy dose of caution, extreme research beforehand, and miserably low expectations. If you hope for anything it will not happen. I guarantee that is the only formula for successfully emerging from the experience with happy thoughts.

I'd like to end on a funny note by directing you to Eric Snider's Rejected Twilight Screenplay. For those not in the know, Eric Snider is first and foremost a comedic writer. His "rejected" screenplay is similar in style to the abridged Titanic screenplay he wrote ten years ago that caught on like wildfire around the internets. You might as well go read that one, too.

Be Funny or Else!

OK, here's the deal. As many of you now know, a young couple, Christian and Stephanie Nielson, barely survived a serious airplane crash and now have extensive burns over a good portion of their bodies. A recovery fund has been set up to help pay for medical expenses and the care of their children while they remain in the hospital for a number of months. An explosion of concern has swept the blogging community, including at one blog I stalk, Navel Gazing at Its Finest. As a fund raising gesture, Navel Gazing, et al, is creating a blog book with proceeds to be donated to the recovery fund for the Nielsons. Entry into the blog book is a contest of sorts, the details to be found here. Basically, they're looking for funny stuff. And by stuff, they mean blog entries, previously posted or not, less than 1500 words. The deadline for submissions is September 30th; all entries can be emailed to sometimeslifeisfunny at gmail dot com. If your post is selected you make it into the book and you then have to buy said book. Also, if the post you submit is new material (unposted) and it happens to be the funniest thing she's read by this Friday, you get $50 from Navel Gazing. So by all means, write away.

Here's my dilemma. First problem: the submissions have to be funny. If they're not deemed funny enough they'll be rejected. Second problem: it's pretty hard to be funny on demand and with a deadline. While I don't need the $50, I would love to submit something new, but I can't think of a frickin' thing to write about. That leaves something I've already published, except I have no idea what's funny in my blog and what isn't. The things that have cracked me up have gone largely unnoticed and things I found only mildly amusing or a complete failure were met with a several compliments. Clearly, I'm only funny on accident (which is about par for the course).

So to all three of my beloved readers I submit this plea to you: if you had to choose a favorite post (i.e. one you found the least offensive to your sensibilities) what would it be? Failing finding anything remotely funny in my archives, what would you have me write about? And while you're at it, submit something of your own. You could get published in a book! W00t!

Note: photos are discouraged, which means posts that rely heavily upon photos (like the Dora cake post) would probably be rejected simply based upon that alone.

2nd Note: I can rewrite any post to make it fit the requirements and any post that is not standalone I can make standalone--mostly this works because all of my posts are under the word count limit so I have room to make necessary story adjustments. Given that, have any suggestions? Any funny stories you and I have that I've never written about?

My Birthday Wish Came True!

First off, my many thanks to my parents for my new digital camera. It allows me to finally show you my photos in near-real time!!!

Friday was my birthday. I spent it well enough, mostly looking for things to buy with various gift cards I'd legally acquired. I found myself at Barnes & Noble. They were advertising the Twilight Saga book release party for Breaking Dawn. I asked a few questions. Nah. Amusing thought, but nah. However, with my curiosity now piqued, I drove to Borders Books and found a couple of more helpful employees who were decorating for their version of the party. Now, Borders I had a gift certificate for. And I'm a member of their thingy or whatever. And they told me I would get 40% off the book price if I bought it that night. Hm. "Is it going to be a bunch of 16-year-olds and me? 'Cause I refuse to be the old freak there." No, they assured me that "other old women" would be there, too. Well that was a load off. I made up my mind regardless. The reduced book price, combined with the winning formula of a teenaged debate over Edward and Jacob and a sure-to-be-awesome costume contest, and how could I not go?

I mulled over exactly who would be willing to accompany me on such an excursion rife with possibilities. Of the friends who had read the book(s), I could only find two who were willing to go on short notice (the rest of the people I considered are dead to me now. DEAD!). Jody read the books and enjoyed them. She's also too nice to say no, especially on my birthday. She agreed to go. Lisa read the first book and hated it. She's not too nice to say no, but fortunately I have guilt working on my side that forced her hand. Her excuse was something about her getting away from her family, but I know deep down that she only came because 1) it was my birthday 2) she DITCHED MY BABY SHOWER, and 3) SHE DITCHED MY BABY SHOWER. So she agreed to come. I was giddy with anticipation. Our mighty trio was unstoppable.

And then we got there. Jody and I arrived together first and just stared at the unholy mass before us. This mass was in the midst of a painful trivia contest led by one of the fearless employees I had spoken with hours before. Jody and I stared at each other. I instantly thought to myself that this was a big mistake. Gah, two more hours of this?? What was I thinking? Fortunately, it didn't take long for the quiet observations to begin, and when Lisa arrived those observations stopped being as quiet.

Lisa brought me a giftbag for my birthday (I think there was something in it--I can't recall now). As she arrived during the Heated Debate portion of the festivites, I used my new bag to announce my preference for Team Mike, mostly in hopes of irritating some fans. Instead, mostly it just amused them to the point of one girl even asking if she could take a photo of my bag and the Volturi-chick high-fiving me. Sure, whatever, just take my joy from me already IT'S ONLY MY BIRTHDAY.

Over the course of the evening I offered $5 to Jody if she would get up in the middle of the debate and make a solid case for Mike over Edward or Jacob. I also offered $5 to Lisa if she would get up to the mic and tell the entire crowd exactly what she thought of Twilight. Sadly, neither took me up on my offer. Should I have offered $10?

Speaking of the Heated Debate. When I read the evening's program (organized, aren't they?) I was pleased to learn about the Edward v. Jacob debates and what that would entail. I was disappointed to find that instead of the orderly panel discussion that Jody and I had envisioned, it was a screaming free-for-all. Now, don't get me wrong. That was entertaining in its own right certainly. I especially loved the fiesty black mother who got up and yelled, "I'd rather have my daughter bring home a dog than a dead man!" Not surprisingly, this comment was met with much enthusiasm from the crowd, including Jody who applauded comments in Jacob's favor, and also Lisa, who was screaming loudly and applauding any comment from either side that she could hear or not hear. I've never been so entertained.

The costume parade was next. Most of the books' female vampires were represented, with my favorites being the Volturi member and "Rosalie." Of all the freakshows, Rose was the nicest and gladly let me take her photo. Imagine my joy when I discovered yesterday in conversation with Gwennifer that she actually knows the girl in the photo. Seriously, what are the odds?



While the "vampires" were getting their photo taken I attempted to sneak up behind in hopes of recreating my favorite photobomber photo:

Instead, Lisa saw me creeping up behind them and announced in a very loud voice, "My friend, Abby, LOVES your costumes! Can she be in the photo with you?" So I had to actually pose with the lot. Thanks a million, Lisa. At least I made up for it a little by mustering as much visible stupidity as I possibly could for their photos.

The evening progressed with various activities to keep us from trashing the place and ending up in prison (I'm assuming that was their goal anyway). Borders employees handed out buttons and stickers that said things like "I was bitten by Breaking Dawn," "Breaking Dawn left me breathless...." and "Bella & Edward 4ever." They also handed out stickers for Team Jacob and Team Edward with the respective actors' faces on them. I still regret not getting a photo of the girl who had covered her entire upper body in Jacob stickers.

Most of our conversations with strangers happened to be with mothers of daughters in the crowd. You know, since we looked old and safe. But by and large the most enlightening conversation we had took place with a couple of mid-teen girls. One of them expressed her fondest desire to live long enough to see the creation of an Edward/Jacob Rock 'em Sock 'em game. The only thing that she would love to see even more, as it turns out, is a topless mud wrestling match between the female characters in the book. When we didn't respond (what do you say to that?), she defended her wish by stating that no one would be more interested in such a match than teenage girls. We stared at her until she went away.

As 11:30 approached, the Event Staff (aka Book Event Law Enforcement) raffled off the first place in line (a raffle I was informed I could not enter because I hadn't had the foresight to reserve the book last week--and yet, a different lady said I could do whatever I wanted. I'm sure she knew it was my birthday. Mostly because Lisa and Jody kept telling her it was.). We didn't win. So we got in the back of the line and got pushed around by obnoxious, intentionally oblivious teens. As midnight approached, we began hearing brief screams from the front of the queue. We finally decided they screamed at the top of the minute as the time approached midnight. We got to hear two countdowns from the crowd, the first being a false alarm since the crowd forgot to take into account that the books only could be sold at 12:01, not midnight.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank Jody and Lisa for going to a function they certainly didn't need to attend, all for company's and entertainment's (and Guilt's) sake. They didn't even buy a book and yet they waited in line with me until nearly 12:30am until I acquired one of my own, cheering me on and reminding the crowd yet again that it was my birthday. Smart-alecs....

You wish you had friends like mine. Well, two of them anyway.

DEAD! Do you hear me? DEAD!

Betrayal

It has come to my attention that my current interest in the Twilight Saga has not gone unnoticed by those who disapprove with this choice in reading material. I went to a wedding reception this evening where I briefly spoke with my friend, Ethel, upon entering the building. She warned me that her husband, Fred, had become aware of my recent readings and was most upset. She explained that he had come to believe I was one of the few non-crazy women in the world, what with my MST3K obsession and general interest in other "boy things" as Stephanie would put it (my friend, Bonny, pointed out that if he knew me was well as he claimed to, he never would have been able to reach the conclusion that I was less than insane to begin with; I concurred). The thought of me reducing myself to what both he and his wife call "pre-teen porn" was abhorrant to his sensitivies. Such amused me to no end.

To confirm Ethel's original assessment (lest I be deprived of humor if the answer changed), I checked in with her again before leaving the building. She further clarified that more than anything, Fred was "disappointed" in me. And as we all well know from our indoctrination via The Andy Griffith Show and Leave It to Beaver, having someone be disappointed in you is worse than being electrocuted while your murder victim's families witness your death.

As per the "pre-teen porn" angle, there were a couple of scenes I was surprised to see laid out in a book for 12-year-olds, too.

"My eyes narrowed as I clenched my eyebrows together into a single jagged line. "Hm. That was...saucy," I fretted to myself, convinced that the end of all that was good in my world had finally come to an end when the racy sentence concluded. My chest heaving, I wept openly for the rising generation of pre-teens who were willingly consorting with this brand of degrading literature. My only comfort in this time of uncertainty and misery was to turn to Edward, who was nearly--but not quite--as comfortable as a bag of brick bats in cement. I eagerly snuggled into his blindingly white arms and chest as his breath lulled me to sleep with its comforting and familiar aroma. His absolute-zero body temperature gave me hypothermia, but it was a sexy hypothermia so that was OK. He gently hummed the lullaby he'd written for me--composed no doubt during one of the hundreds of evenings he had illegally broken into my home to watch me sleep in a Ted Bundy-ish sort of "I love you so I stalk you" way. I suddenly felt his entire body tense and I knew that he was fighting his natural urge to kill me. Most people in my life had to fight the same urge on a daily basis, but with him it was different. It was different because he was hot.

"Sure, I had friends who hated themselves enough to hang out with me (I'm a bit of a Debbie Downer at times!), and even one kid who convinced himself that we were meant to be together, just because we "loved each other" and our relationship would be "normal" and "healthy" and "non-lethal." Whatever, screw him. "OH MY GOSH I CAN'T BELIEVE I JUST SAID THAT GET ME THE PHONE EDWARD I HAVE TO CALL JAKE AND TELL HIM I'M SORRY AND I LOVE HIM AND WON'T HE PLEASE LET ME STRING HIM ON JUST A LITTLE BIT LONGER?" Edward, who loves being used and immasculated, dialed for me, apologized for me, confessed his love to Jacob for me, willingly continued the charade with Jacob for me, and hung up with a kiss and a fond farewell. Isn't Edward the best?

"Edward is absolutely everything I want, need, and dream about when I'm not wanting, needing, and dreaming about Jacob. I can't believe I just thought that! I instantly apologized to Edward, who immediatley, and appropriately, blamed himself and begged me not to feel even an ounce less than absolute and utter joy every waking second of my life. My cornflakes didn't taste quite right this morning, throwing me into a deep depression for the rest of the afternoon. Edward took full responsibility for my less-than-satisfactory cereal experience and attempted suicide. I honestly appreciated the gesture, even if it didn't rectify the cornflake-failure situation. Since then we've been as excruciatingly happy as any living being and corpse can possibly be together, and all because he was willing to take his own life the second the corners of my mouth even hinted at being less than electrically thrilled. His rippling pectorals and I are soulmates, and I will never again allow them to leave my side for any reason at all, including bathroom breaks.

"I just hope he doesn't ask me to marry him, because honestly, is there anything worse in this world than being married to the person you love, worship, adore, and want to spend eternity with? Marriage. Ew. If only there was some way to just bind our love together, officially, perhaps with some kind of ceremony. Of course we'd need some sort of official person to perform our love-binding ceremony, and we should probably get dressed up a bit for it. Maybe I should even throw on a dress or something. I'd love it if my family and friends could witness this love-binding ceremony, and oo! we could even have cake afterwards! I'm so glad I thought of this!" And...scene.

If it helps, Fred, I myself am surprised that I not only actually read Twilight to begin with, but that I found myself enjoying it despite its many shortcomings. Many, many shortcomings. It's fun, lighthearted fair full of mythical creatures like vampires, werewolves, and teenagers who are capable of rational thought. I can't always read books like biographies of General Douglas MacArthur (rivetting as that was for me). Twilight and all its silliness is the perfect balm when life walks the fine line between sanity and insanity, creating havoc and damage to your mind along the way. It reverts your memory to a simpler time when your only responsibilites were keeping a clean room and keeping your siblings out of your stuff. It's childhood all over again...but with fewer Indian burns and wet willies.

Ah, Twilight Squee

So I spent yesterday stalking the Twilight Obsessed Crowd over at the Twilight Lexicon to get more information about the upcoming film and cast. The first thing I noticed is that it was a mistake to go there, what with blatant spoilers being thrown about in post titles. Crap. Now that that was out of the way, the second thing I noticed were the abundant amusing avatars and banners. Rather than inundate Stephanie's inbox further, I decided to just post the ones I enjoyed the most here. I realize that if you haven't read the book(s) many of these will be lost upon you, but you'll notice that isn't stopping me.

And my favorite:

Would You Like Some Whine With That Cheese?

I finally bit the bullet and started reading Twilight. Why? Because my firend, Stephanie, (Dora Cake Stephanie, not Twilight Stephenie, just to clarify) had a gun to my head. She's a jerk like that.

Anyway, here are my impressions 400-odd pages in. It's a good, quick read and entertains as promised. Oh, and for all those who have yet to read it and don't appreciate spoilers, I would stop reading at this point. For those who gave up because it was cheesy, not scary enough, just not their style, or who found themselves not reading it and not reading anything else because they wanted to finish it first, by all means continue to read here because I'll make all of your wildest wishes of spoilers come true.

Back to my impressions. Going into this I knew it would be cheesy on some level. I've heard nothing but about this book. That's cool, I'm fine with that as long as I'm forewarned. I was not disappointed in either regard. I really didn't mind terribly as it didn't seem too over the top and what was there was to be expected in a book with teenaged girls as its primary audience. I'd heard that one of readers' biggest complaints is Meyer's over indulgence in adjectives, particularly with regard to Edward's appearance. I found that to be right on the mark. First, how many times can you say a guy is perfectly gorgeous? Second, how many times is it really necessary to point that out in one book? In every other sentence seems a tad superfluous in my mind. He's a vampire, he hasn't suddenly turned fugly between the last time he was gorgeous to ten minutes after that. If he's suddenly ugly, by all means let us know, but until then we'll just assume that nothing has changed in that category. And third (you're welcome, you nerds), "gorgeous" and "perfect" and "inexplicably godlike" are all very subjective. Is it just possible that Edward is only perfectly beautiful and Adonis-like to everyone who's seen him SO FAR? Yeah, that's what I thought.

I appreciated that the romance was fairly slow in building. Romances that take off like a rocket are unreasonable and unrealistic. Plus, it builds the sexual tension needed in a good romance plot. By the time it really got over the top, I merely smiled and chuckled rather than puked on the book. So again, good on her for delivering the goods as well as could be expected.

What I did not appreciate, which is the point in the story I am in the middle of reading, is the sudden and painful onset of stupidity of our heroine, Bella. James, the tracker, has just kidnapped her mother, threatened to devour her if Bella doesn't ditch the protection of the Cullen Clan and come to him alone so he can kill her too, and she agrees to do it. She agreed to leave the safety and assistance of five good vampires who would risk undeath (ha! I kill me) and limb to protect her and her relatives from any harm to be a martyr. This is like a plot straight out of a bad 80s horror film. Does she not think James will still murder her mother even after she willingly gives herself over to him? Why didn't she immediately turn around and tell the two jerks who were there protecting her, and the three more who were on their way at top speed to be there with her, that James had her mom and possibly wasn't there anything they, with their combined centuries of experience, knowledge, and superhuman intelligence and abilities, could do to rectify the situation? That is what a normal, thinking person would do. But not this brain surgeon! No sir. Gotta get herself AND her mother killed, but not before writing a tearful letter of regret to her one and only love, begging him to forgive her for suddenly becoming retarded. Yeah. That's gonna happen. I hope they all take turns slapping the crap out of her (which might crush her skull, if Edward is to be believed, and she would totally have that coming).

By the by, I don't trust Rosalie for obvious reasons, which are not aided by the fact that this is a terribly predictable book. She either dimes Bella out or they wind up totally BFF! by the end of the novel. But more than her, I don't trust Alice. Wasn't it Alice who said it would be perfectly safe for Bella to join the game and practically insisted she come? Didn't she also insist on babysitting Bella once The Drama started? And isn't she just a little too anxious to be buddies with Bella? And is she not also the mystery woman with no memory of her past or who made her? Yeah, that's what I thought. If she doesn't turn in this book, mark my words she'll be the villian by book #15.

Final note. I cannot fathom dating something you simply cannot resist eating. I can only equate his predicament to my falling in love with a Duncan Donuts-brand Boston Kream donut. Even if my true love could actually carry on a meaningful conversation with me, which would be creepy at best, I don't think I could love him more outside my stomach than in. His chocolatey scent would overwhelm me and I would have to end his pitiful life. So Huge Props to Edward for keeping his true love in tact! That is, long enough for her to get herself et up by some other fool. We'll see how that turns out for her.

"In the Not-too-distant Future...."

Those of you who are familiar with me--both of you--know that I love "Mystery Science Theater 3000." It remains one of my favorite TV shows to this day and I nearly cried when it ended. Well, "yelled and swore at the TV" is probably more accurate, but the idea is I was upset. And who made the magic happen on that genius program? Michael J. Nelson, head writer for 10 years and on-air host for the last half of those. Amazingly enough, he can actually write. As in, books, not just TV show scripts. "Mike Nelson's Movie Megascheese" started my love for his writing. A book of collected essays about really bad films and actors, it is what my friend, Teri, described as "laugh-out-loud, startle-the-cats funny." This only whet my appetite for his second, and my favorite book of his (I've read it three times now), "Mind Over Matters."

Because I can per the Fair Use clause of U.S. copyright law, I will publish one of my favorite excerpts here. In this particular chapter he is discussing the small mid-western college he attended, which was staffed entirely by insane professors. One English professor, whom his students dubbed "Beaker" because he resembled the Muppet so closely, performed various tricks of crazy for his students, never once realizing that he was in fact, certifiable. My favorite event Mike describes in excellent detail:

I was present at the following bit of strangeness. While lecturing on James Agee, he suddenly became curious about the hole in the countertop of his lecturing table, which was really a large cabinet with storage space beneath it, accessed by sliding doors. Without halting his lecture, he began to probe the hole--squarish, about the size of a small book--sticking his whole arm into it, tentatively at first and then up to the shoulder. Soon, and without stopping his talk on A Death in the Family, he was fully inside the cabinet. He hesitated for a moment during the exertion of closing the sliding door behind him, but then continued the lecture. Then another pause during the exertion of trying to get the cabinet door open again, which he was unable to do.

"Could someone come up here and free me?" came his muffled voice.

The class laughed uneasily, still not sure if this was a joke.

"Well, well, well," he said, his tone thoroughly elusive. There was the sound of a minor struggle. "This is what I get," he said, still without humor or embarrassment or panic or any sign as to whether he was asphyxiating.

After a moment, two similarly dressed jock guys got up, walked toward the front and out the door of the classroom.

"What time is it?" he asked, and no one answered. He had never managed to connect on any identifiable human level with any member of the class, so direct communications from him (not that this was terribly direct) usually went unanswered.

More people got up and left, then more, till there was only a handful of people remaining. Finally two young women looked at each other questioningly and then walked up to his cabinet. Figuring he was in capable hands, I left.

That is quality writing, people. I wish I could write like he does--he is mind-bogglingly funny. I figured it would be an excellent book to read while otherwise occupied nursing Peanut, until I discovered that my bursts of laughter were waking him up. Trying to hold it in only resulted in Shaken Baby Syndrome, so I eventually gave up trying to do both at the same time.

As a side note, Mike's third book, a novel titled "Death Rat: a Novel," is an excellent read. It's not as hilarious as his essays on life, but it is incredibly well written, intelligent, and witty. His characters still make me laugh, particularly the governor, with whom I share a rabid distaste for weathermen. Just a tip from your friendly neighborhood blogger.