Airing Of The Grievances

One year at my birthday party (speaking of my birthday, which, as a reminder, is two months from yesterday)back when Cap, Kelly, Simmy and I were kids, we ran into a bit of a problem and being the bright and creative children that we were, set about trying to solve it with a ridiculous plan that only a group of crazy children could come up with.

The problem, you see, was that we wanted cake and ice cream and we were being made to wait what we felt was an outrageously lengthy amount of time. I think the issue was that we were waiting on a couple of relatives that were on their way, but hadn't shown up yet. We'd asked about it several times and kept being told, "Not yet, we have to wait for so-and-so to get here" and it was starting to get exasperating. As I recall, I don't think I'd opened presents yet either for the same reason, so we were all starting to get antsy on two accounts. The last time we asked, we were finally told no AND to stop asking. We retreated to my room to ponder another way to try and get our way.

What we came up with was that we would go on strike. I don't know what led us to the conclusion that this might work. For starters, we clearly had no idea what a strike even was. We weren't a union, after all. Hell, we weren't even responsible for any party time chores like dish washing that we could threaten to not do. We had absolutely nothing against which to leverage our demands. All we knew was it involved signs and marching, and that when the people on tv did it they seemed to eventually get their way.

We set about making our placards. We grabbed the markers and all of the poster board in the house that was meant for school projects and colorfully wrote on them things like "Presents NOW!" and "We want cake and ice cream!" Some of them we poked holes in the top and tied them together with yarn to make sandwich boards. When all was ready, we took our messages and marched down the stairs and into the dining room with them shouting "Kids on strike! Kids on strike!" certain that this was the answer.

It was not. The adults were not at all convinced that our efforts warranted dessert. What they were certain of was that we were fucking hilarious. They laughed at us until tears ran down their faces, and while normally we would have been pleased to have entertained everyone so well, on this occasion we were very put out by it because we were being absolutely serious. It was not the reaction we expected or wanted and when they stopped laughing long enough to say again "No, you're not getting cake" we turned and, defeated, trudged back up to my room. We didn't know what to do. We had no other plan. At some point we went downstairs and tried it again, hoping that they would give us cake because we were cute and hilarious, but we were told it was only funny the first time.

I don't remember much else from that day. We must have gotten the cake and ice cream eventually, otherwise I would REALLY remember that day as "the day I got fucked out of cake on my birthday". Oh and don't worry, on my birthday this year (in two months) you won't have to go on strike to avoid getting fucked out of birthday cake - I will have it ready and waiting when you show up with your pointy hats to sing to me.

It's Coming! It's Coming!

I wanted to let everyone know that today marks two months until that most glorious of days - my birthday. I just wanted to make sure that everyone has plenty of time to prepare. With Thanksgiving upon us and Christmas right around the corner, I understand how easy it would be to forget and let it slip through the cracks, but have no fear! I will make sure to update you periodically as my birthday approaches so you can ready yourself for the festival of cake and ice cream and plan your outfit around the color of the party hats I'm going to make all of you wear. And Christmas caroling is a great warm up for all the "Happy Birthday" and "For She's a Jolly Good Fellow" you'll be singing (I need to find a way to combine "Happy Birthday" with "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" so it will last longer. Whose idea was it to have such a ridiculously short song at birthday celebrations? Asshat). So again, let me just reiterate: There are two months until my birthday. Get ready.

Veterans Day

Many, MANY thanks to Eric, Marcus, Erin, Machetti, my dad, John K., Uncle John, both my grandfathers and everyone else who has served their country in the military. You are remarkable. Thank you so much.

For She Was A Jolly Good Fellow

Happy Birthday to my mom, who would have been 61 today and most likely cross-stitching or baking something. Thanks for not naming me Noel or something equally stupid.

I Am Writing. No, I Mean Actually Writing. Like With A Pen And A Sheet Of Paper.

Another thing that sucks about this particular NaBloPoMo is that while I was in St. Louis, my laptop became broken (the suspect list is limited - I live with one other human and one cat) meaning that until I have it repaired or (and I hope not) have to replace the whole thing, all weekend/holiday posts will have to be backdated. I promise* I will write them out on paper on the appropriate days just like a grown up responsible blogger (or rather, just like a grown up responsible blogger with grown up responsible roommates. Ahem).


*not really, but I'll try.

Massive Boobies!

Great! Now that I have your attention...

After driving back from St. Louis this afternoon, I took the comic to Kuma's Corner per his request for a "huge fuck off burger the likes of which you can only get in the States." Because really where else was there to take him after a request like that? And I think that, while I may have met or exceeded his expectations for this meal he'd waited for all week, it's possible he will never recover from it as even now he is sprawled on my couch moaning about the hugeness of it. But that's not really what I want to tell you about. What I DO want to tell you about is this:

The Haunted World of El Superbeasto.

The Haunted World of El Superbeasto is the feature length cartoon the comic and I were watching with the sound off and subtitles whilst sitting at the bar trying to kill ourselves with meat. But even with no sound it was one of the funniest things I have ever seen. It is also the filthiest cartoon I've seen since The Down and Dirty Duck. I can only assume it gets better with the sound as a) it is a film by Rob Zombie and b) some kid in line for the bathroom told me it was even better with the sound. Kids in line for a piss don't make shit up, I assure you. I highly, HIGHLY recommend this film for anyone with a sense of humor and/or questionable morals.

And yes it does have massive, albeit cartoon boobies, so that wasn't entirely a ploy just to get you to read this post.

Shut Down

Mrs. Sizemore: High five!

The comic: Are you a child?