Happy Fakesgiving!

Fakesgiving dinner* is always better when it follows that whore Ann Arbor taking it in the ass for the 6th year in a row.

In only slightly related news, given that Thanksgiving falls in the middle of the 40 Days I have decided to start calling it Practice Christmas.


*Fakesgiving is an invention of Mrs. Sizemore and Fancy. It is basically Thanksgiving with friends instead of family because friends are the family you choose.

M-I Crooked Letter Crooked Letter O-U-R-I

I will shortly be hopping a train back to the Lou in order to be at Cap and Mrs. Sizemore's place in time for Ohio State/Michigan football and Fakesgiving tomorrow. And then on Sunday there is Christmas decorating to be done. YYYEEEESSSSSSSS.

In Which We All Live Inside A Kaleidoscope

me: motherboard=broken
insert frownyface here

fish: How much to fix?

me: $250ish

fish: Are you gonna do it?

me: what are my alternatives?

fish: Find $750 more and buy a mac

me: someday...someday in the distant future i will be able to afford you making me a mac convert

fish: I can't wait for the future. The problem is, when we reach the future and have nothing to look forward to, what will we call it? Can we still just call it the future? Like, "Gosh, I'm so glad we live in The Future"

me: i think that is the best solution. either that or we can look forward to an apocalyptic war and a return to an agrarian society

fish: I just want life to be like it was in those fruitopia commercials
Seemed colorful and tasty

Stitchus Interruptus

Back before my angel kitty Kristen died, we used to spend the cold winter nights cuddled up on the couch together. There was usually some football on or something. I would be cross-stitching some dorky Christmas thing and Kristen would lay in my lap on top of a blanket and calmly watch either me or the television (depending on which way she was facing) and purr contentedly. These are some of my favorite memories of her.

Now I know, I KNOW that it's a bad idea to compare my new cat to my old one because they are two completely different cats, and I love Angela just as much as I loved Kristen. But I was really really hoping that, like Kristen, Angie would enjoy laying in mommy's nice warm lap at night while she was sewing. What I did not take into account is that my new cat is a minion of the devil. I can't sew at home anymore unless I wait for her to fall asleep. This is because if she sees me with thread, her reaction is to glare at me as if to say "WTF? All string in the house is MINE!" before launching herself at me and ferociously attacking my stitching. EVERY DAMN TIME. She's lucky it's the 40 Days of Christmas, otherwise the next thing I'd be sewing is a tiny kitty straight jacket.

Nothing Doing

I will not be talking about last night's Browns game today. Not today, and not ever. Because, I mean, there is disappointing and then there is jaw droppingly atrocious. And that game was worse than either of those things. I just, I have no words.

It's Time!

On the first day of the 40 Days of Christmas, my true love gave to me...

Nothing, because outside of the Liz crowd, everyone I know thinks the 40 Days of Christmas is a stupid idea. Not to mention an annoying one. So far today, BrownsFan and Coworker have both made fun of me for being dressed like a kindergarten teacher in my snowman overall dress, the comic called me an "xmas pisshead" and one of my trivia friends had the nerve to "dislike" my Facebook status. The nerve of some people.

The important thing is that I DO NOT CARE. Today is the first day of Christmas and it is going to be glorious.

AFC North Musings

This just in: the Bengals, as in the CINCINNATI Bengals, have swept the Steelers this year as of this afternoon. (Suck it TupperDoug and Becca.) They have also swept the Ravens and might just pull out a division win. I know, right? It really couldn't happen to a better rival. If the Browns can't win it (and as far as I can tell they never ever EVER will) then the Bengals are obviously the next best choice.

Now if only the Browns wouldn't embarrass themselves on national television tomorrow. A girl can dream.

Apparently I Could Get Museum Passes Too

BrownsFan points out that I could blog on the weekends with ease if I had a library card. Also that I could check books out of the library instead of buying them. Of course, this seems to involve speaking to a librarian and is therefore impossible to handle on my own. If anyone would like to volunteer to talk to the librarian on my behalf while I stand behind you cowering I'd be very grateful.

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?

Out Of Office Reply

I am in St. Louis and will likely be backdating posts to cover all the days I'm here when I get back. Yes, I know that is cheating. In the meantime, please enjoy this brilliant Win in preparation for the 40 Days of Christmas coming up in a few short weeks.

Remember, Remember The 5th Of November

It's Guy Fawkes Day. Go make yourself a bonfire.

P.S. If you are an American and don't know any English people or haven't seen the movie or read the comic book "V for Vendetta", then look go look up Guy Fawkes Night on Wikipedia, THEN go make yourself a bonfire.

Rebirth of Slick (Beverages, That Is)

Last night I went to Tai's because the comic was in town and because we would be in St. Louis on Thursday and therefore not at Tai's. And I got some of the best news I've had in a long time.

Back in the day not so long ago, there was a Star Trek museum inside the Las Vegas Hilton. It was filled with trekness like model ships hanging from the ceiling, people dressed and in character as different species from the show (a borg once asked me if I required "photo-replication" before posing for a picture with me) and, most importantly, Quark's Bar. The reason why Quark's Bar was so important was because it was home to the greatest mixed drink of all time: the Warp Core Breach. It came in an orb as big as your head, bubbled and foamed from the dry ice in it, tasted like love and rainbows and the best sex you ever had and was notorious for getting the Tai's crew fucked up enough to dance in the taxi line and then threaten the life of the driver (ok, both of those were MrSteve, but really it could have been anyone). For many of us* it was half the point of going to Las Vegas in the first place. You can view a fuzzy video of a bunch of not very entertaining guys drinking the smaller sized one here.

But then tragedy struck - the Star Trek museum closed and it took Quark's Bar and our beloved Warp Core Breach with it. There was much rending of garments and gnashing of teeth. I feared one of the greatest chapters in my life was over and gone for good.

So what's my wonderful news? Big Charlie, a connoisseur of the Warp Core Breach and one who imbibed it in astonishing volumes, has spent the last year or so since the museum closed experimenting and has finally perfected the recipe for the Warp Core Breach. He doesn't have any dry ice, but I suspect I can provide my own for this momentous event: the Warp Core Breach Resurrection.

Thank you Charlie, thank you!

*Me.

Just to Let You Know...

...NaBloPoMo sucks when you have out of town company and are on vacation.

Bits and Bobs

Having absolutely nothing to say for NaBloPoMo, I went into my trusty notebook (the one that if you know me in real life and not just internetland you have most likely seen me pull out of my purse to write something down at completely inappropriate times) looking for nuggets to expand on and what I found was that I still have absolutely nothing to say for NaBloPoMo.

What I DO have are my typical disjointed notes that I wrote down most likely when I was drunk and not containing nearly enough information to remind me of what I wanted to remember. And because I can't think of anything else to say, those notes are below:

-Will on sticking it in your ear: "Everyone wants to tickle your brain."

-slutty Mona Lisa

-rectums are amazing!

-shit jeff wants me to remember: Hand Me Down

-things you can buy out of a trench coat in Amsterdam

I must lead a very interesting life. I wish I could be sure.

On Laziness And The Pursuit of Non-laziness

Right then, so, two things:

1. I have once again let slip by the anniversary of this blog. Happy belated 5th birthday Bizzybizzers. It's very kind of you to stick with me. Sorry I suck at posting. But speaking of not posting

2. It is NaBloPoMo and I will be BloPoing every day all month long. I know, I know, it's gimmicky and lame, but the thing is, it forces me to spend a part of every day writing and in the long run I end up posting more ofter during the rest of the year than I otherwise would. What I need to have is a National Blog Posting Year, however this wouldn't entirely fit in with the cutesy rhyming scheme as "Yo" is not and never has been short for year. Also, I have already failed at this much like I did last year and will be backdating the first two posts because I'm sneaky like that. And anyway the principle is still sound.

That is all. Please carry on with whatever far more entertaining thing you were doing before your sudden inexplicable urge to see if anything had been posted to Bizzybiz (this is exactly how it works in my mind).