Tag Archives: guilt trip

If I were Chris Hardwick, I’d click this link.

So, if you haven’t visited the site in a while, where the hell have you been? I’ve been worried sick.

Anyway, you missed a lot.

Most notably, Chris Hardwick visited my site (please note my measured, articulate response). Yeah, I’m pretty fucking impossible to live with right now.

Whereas most sane people would see the culmination of their internet campaigns as a victory and just move on, I’m going to keep plugging away.

What does that mean exactly? I’m not really sure.

For now, all it means is that I’m going to continue to (try to) lure Chris Hardwick over here until he’s a semi-regular commenter.

So, for you, Chris Hardwick, I’ve added a tag called Hardwick Bait. I promise not to tag every single post as Hardwick bait. Just stuff I think you might be interested in. And by the way, if you’re searching for a term to describe me to the authorities, I prefer “nerdist enthusiast” over “blog stalker.”

In other news, I went to my very first filming of a scene I wrote today. I was the sound guy. Or, more accurately, the pole holder. But it did open up the opportunity for a nice vaudevillian joke –  “I’ve been holding a boom for two hours and boy are my arms tired.”

Anyway, once the scene is cut together, I’ll be posting it here, of course. I couldn’t keep my real writing from my twelve loyal blog readers (Thirteen if you count Chris Hardwick. (At least. (Yes, this is a parenthetical inside a parenthetical inside a parenthetical. (I’m probably doing this because I went to see Inception last night. (It involves dreams-within-dreams. (It was really good. (What was I talking about?))))))).

As my friend Bethany said, it looks like the universe felt it owed me for the crappy week it gave me. Yes, I will be telling you that story at some point.

Also, you should all click on those Chris Hardwick links. They’re mostly to the Nerdist Podcasts, and there’s nary a person I wouldn’t ask to sign my underwear.

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Randominity

Hi! It’s Friday! The time when all my random thoughts come out to play, like fairies that come out to play when you turn on the sprinkler. Maybe that’s just in my yard.

I’m in kind of a weird mood today. Restless. Shifty. Giddy. Slightly chilly. No particular reason, other than it’s Friday. And I left the air conditioner on too low at my office last night.

So, anyway. Random:

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I’m following almost the whole cast of Community on twitter now, as well as the creator, Dan Harmon. I find him very entertaining. Check it out.

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So You Think You Can Dance is back on! I love to watch pretty people dancing. That’s why I own Center Stage on dvd. But seriously, you should watch this show. It’s amazing. Watch this clip and see if your heart doesn’t try to float away like a balloon. (Skip to 0:47 or so to just see the dancing.)

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I saw Splice. It was weird. And not in a cool way. And not in a mind-fuck-maybe-if-I-dropped-acid-and-watched-it-again-I’d-appreciate-it way. I’d almost put it in the so-bad-it’s-good category, except it invaded my dreams and now I’m angry at it.

Sarah Polley and Adrian Brody, you are so much better than this. Why?

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My cat has decided that when the alarm goes off in the morning, it’s time for her to sit on my chest. If she were normal-sized this wouldn’t be a huge problem. But she’s very, very fat* and it causes me great physical discomfort. As well as little paw-shaped bruises all over my torso. Try explaining that to a doctor.

I can’t decide if she’s trying to keep me at home or if she’s trying to steal my breath. Could be both.

*She’s lost weight since we moved into the bigger place. It’s got me wondering – is she the opposite of a goldfish? Does she expand when we put her in smaller areas, only to get smaller when she’s in a larger area? It might just be that now it’s more of a walk from the bed to the couch.

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Adam and I have been DVRing Jeopardy and watching it when I get home every night. This is nice, because it gives me a way to track how much dumber I get each day.

Well, each weekday.

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I’m going on a business trip next week! I’m like a grown up.

A question for the 5 people who read this: Should I take the faster route or the prettier route?

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I got my 100th comment the other day! But it was from my husband, which is like writing a play and then getting a rave review from your mother. (Which has happened to me.)

So anywho, comment away, people I’m not related to. Let me know you’re out there.

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I carved out time for this because I care about you.

It’s Friday! Hooray for the weekend! I’ve been slacking on the blogging end of things, and for that I apologize. I have a limited amount of time per week when I can write, and sometimes keeping up with this blog interferes with the real writing that I’d someday like to get paid to do. But enough about me. On to…other stuff about me.

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I believe I promised you a story about my doctor’s appointment, involving a description of my butt. The appointment itself wasn’t all that remarkable, but there was some back story. (Ha! Get it? “Back” story? I’m hilarious.)

When I was in college (the second time), my butt suddenly had a growth spurt. Every other part of my body stayed the same, but suddenly my butt necessitated the buying of larger pants (this would not be the last time). So I remarked to my friends that my ass was “growing like a tumor.”

Cut to about 7 years later. I suddenly have a mole on my butt. It was never there before. But it was small, so I thought, “Eh, what do I care?” Then it got a little bigger. And bigger. And it kept growing. So I start to think, “Is this karma for joking about butt tumors? I certainly didn’t mean to offend the universe. I was just being descriptive.”

So, after 2 years of ever-expanding-butt-mole-induced worry (and several hundred web articles about skin cancer as reading material), I finally went to the doctor, who’s like, “That? It’s just a skin tag. We can remove it if you want.” 

I haven’t had it removed yet. I read too many mole removal articles on the internet, and now I’m terrified of the potential pain.

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In the spring and fall, and part of the summer (the part where the heat isn’t deadly), I drive with my windows down. It’s my favorite part of the year. It does cause some hair issues, though.

I also listen to my music really loud, so I can hear it over the wind.

And I believe that once I put my sunglasses on, I become invisible, and can do anything I want without people judging me.

So what I’m saying is, if you’re at a stop light, and you hear really loud (and awesome) music, and you look over and see a girl with crazy-ass tangled hair wearing sunglasses and dancing and singing along to the music like an idiot: Hi. Thanks for reading.

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I am in love with Kurt from Glee. Isn’t he amazing? I think Broadway directors must be praying that show gets canceled so they can get their hands on him.

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I’ve been trying to catch up on classic movies that I should have already watched by now, but haven’t for some reason. A few weeks ago, I watched Godfather I and II. I have Annie Hall at home right now, but haven’t watched it yet. What else should I see? Suggestions, please. And remember, I can’t read your mind (and have no real desire to), so you’ll have to actually comment for me to know what you’re thinking.

Ta!

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Random + List-y = Randlistomy!

Strategies I use to concentrate on my job that never work on Friday:

  • Listening to TV shows streamed on Netflix to entertain myself while making spreadsheets. (I end up watching. With popcorn.)
  • A reward system: Do x amount of work, get 10 minutes of free internet time. (10 minutes becomes the rest of the day very quickly.)
  • Only do my recreational internetting at lunch. (Just lunch becomes the rest of the day very quickly.)
  • Getting all my recreational internetting out of the way first thing, so I’m not tempted to do it later. (I’m sure you see where that’s going .)

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Names I call my cat that she more-or-less answers to:

  • Kasima
  • Kasima Catinu
  • Kittle (Little + Kitty. I make up a lot of words this way.)
  • Beached Kitty (when she’s all bloated and stretched out on her back)
  • Hey You Cat
  • My property (Yes, I call her this on a semi-regular basis so she doesn’t get uppity.)

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Names I never call my cat:

  • Her actual name

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Mitch Hedberg non sequiturs that I always want to throw out in conversation, but never do because I know no one would get it but me:

  • Red means where the fuck did you get that banana at.
  • A message of hope from your friends at Yoplait.
  • Don’t even act like I didn’t get that donut.
  • Man, you really like Tide.
  • That tree is far away!

Speaking of Mitch Hedberg, I have a pair of panties signed by him.

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Other celebrities I want to have sign my panties:

  • Craig Ferguson
  • Jon Stewart
  • Eddie Izzard
  • David Letterman
  • Conan O’Brien
  • Amy Sedaris
  • Kristen Wiig
  • Tina Fey
  • Bill Murray

No, Jason Bateman is not on this list. I’d be way too embarrassed.

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Super powers I’d never want to have:

  • Immortality
  • X-ray vision
  • Laser vision
  • Anything with weird vision, really
  • The power to control sea creatures
  • Seismology-related powers
  • Telepathy

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Seemingly lame super powers I’d like to have:

  • Anything weather-related. I would totally spend all day lying on my back in my yard, making tornadoes in the sky.
  • Super hearing. Yes, I like to eavesdrop. I don’t care if that makes me nosy. I want to hear what you’re saying.
  • The power to kill people with my hair.

Basically, I don’t want to make a career out of my super ability. I’d rather keep it as a hobby.

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That’ll do it for today, folks. Feel free to add a random list of your own in the comments. Or feel free to just read and not comment, like you were never here at all.

Are you ashamed to be seen with me?

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