The Middle Third

Hmm... scary coincidence?

noreply@blogger.com (arlah_ellie) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 19:37:00 +0000

We're doing TIFF this year. (No, that isn't some sort of allusion to a lesbian group sex thing. Get your mind out of the gutter.) Sweeze and I are going to the Toronto International Film Festival for a few days in about a week and a half (Sept. 11 to 13). We just got confirmation on our pics - 4 first choice and 1 second choice. Not a bad list at all:

Fish Tank (Andrea Arnold)
Defendor (Peter Stebbings)
The Men Who Stare at Goats (Grant Heslov)
The Road (John Hillcoat)
The Informant! (Steven Soderbergh)

Obviously, I've been going over and over lists of movies, summaries and trailers during the past few weeks. IMDb and TIFFReviews.com have been my best friends. But maybe I'm thinking of movies a little too often these days. Does anyone other than me see the similarities in these pictures?

The human version:

And....

The mastiff version:

Srsly.

I swear, if I had the skillz, I would be Photoshopping the bitch out of that to make it more beautiful.

Unless it's just me.

(Eds: It is.)

Now that's a real Paige Turner

noreply@blogger.com (arlah_ellie) — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 17:17:00 +0000

Things have been interesting in these parts over the last few days. (Not those parts, you perv. These parts.) I've been tidying up, doing laundry, making sure that there are only clean dishes in the dishwasher, stocking the fridge with something other than condiments and shriveled up vegetables. I have been *the* definition of domesticity.

There's a reason for this activity: My father's coming to stay for a couple of days. With Gronk. And Eds.

Me [coaxing crumbs from the counter onto the floor where they clearly belong]: So, Eds, my dad should stay out of your hair while he's here.
Eds [kicking a big crumb my way]: Your father? Why is he coming here?
Me [casually]: Oh, well, because I'm going to a movie on Friday night and then to a friend's birthday party/housewarming on Saturday. He's going to stay here to take care of Gronk.
Eds [feathers ruffled]: Why can't I take care of the dog? I think I've more than proven my capabilities while you're at work.
Me: True, but he's got to be fed and let outside.
Eds [huffy]: And I can't do that?

Now, I'm sure that he could take care of Gronk. His vampire super-attributes make up for his small stature and he can do a lot of things that you would think a 4-inch ~~inanimate vampire action figure~~ person would struggle with. I mean, tell the truth: You've watched those shows on TLC and have been amazed at how the Roloffs or the two members of The Littlest Couple actually manage life, right? They've got nothing on Eds.**

(**Probably because they aren't vampires. And he may have dazzled me into typing that.)

I have been making a true effort to include Eds in things, and thereby decrease his emo. So I did what any decent person would. I invited him to the movie.

Me: My dad's coming and that's that. But do you want to come see Hairy Pooter tonight?
Eds [shocked and disgusted]: Do I want to see WHAT?
Me: Uh, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. It's a movie about a boy wizard but at this point, the character is, like, 16 years old and the actor who plays him is about 28.
Eds [scoffing]: A boy wizard? Riiiight.
Me: Believe me, I'm with you. This the 6th movie in the series. They're based on books. I waited until I had nothing else at all to read before I asked Sweeze for her copies. Then I was hooked. I actually considered dressing up in a cape and waiting in line to get a copy of the last book when it went on sale at midnight. I tried to teach Gronk commands as spells from the books. I mean, this stuff is like crack or meth or heroin. Or blood. Whatever. I think you'll like it.
Eds [doubtful]: I much prefer classics of all sorts: Homer, Shakespeare, the philosophers like Nietzsche or Sartre... And vampires are not easily changed.
Me: Yeah, you've schooled me. Once you become a vampire, it's like you're set in stone.
Eds: *eye roll*
Me [shaking head]: That was not any kind of reference to your physique.
Eds [crookedly smirking]: Sure.
Me [slightly dazzled]: Listen, do you want to come or not?
Eds: I do prefer literature over cinema. Can I read the book first?

So I set Eds up in the bathroom with Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. (He insists that the bathroom has the best lighting in the entire house, though I don't know why he'd need it. Can't vampires see in the dark? He could curl up in the friggin' linen closet and still be able to plow through the pages. TWSS? Regardless, that's my new reason for reading in the bathroom.)

Within a matter of seconds, however, I had to deal with a minipire-sized hissy fit (which typically involves a lot of foot-stomping, pouting and the only "curse" words currently in Edward's vocabulary.) There was a lot of that as well as a shitload of complaining that he was confused.

Please review the dialogue above. I did tell him that this was the 6th book in the series, right? Thought so. And due to my odd purchasing habits, I have only the last two books in the series.

When in doubt, Wiki. Or Google. But in this case, Wiki.

A few minutes later, having read the summaries of the first 5 books and movies, Eds was turning away from the laptop and heading back to the bathroom. He's been in there a good 20 minutes or so and I haven't heard much out of him. Every once in a while, I hear him snicker and even more rare, one of his big guffaws. He's also made this pssssshhhhhhttt sound, you know, like the one you make when you come across something totally unbelievable or just out there? (I suspect that he's reading about snogging - how scandalous!)

Me [calling to the bathroom from my work post]: It's a real page-turner, huh?
Eds [engrossed]: Um, huh? What? Oh, I haven't met Paige Turner yet. Ron's still dealing with Lavender Brown.
Me: *confuzzled*
Me: *peeking into the bathroom*
Eds [turning to me conspiratorially, with eyebrow raised]: But I do like that Luna Lovegood.

Love you, Banana Bread. Love you so much.

noreply@blogger.com (arlah_ellie) — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 00:47:00 +0000

So - between dealing with Eds, studying for my big exams and *still* unpacking - I finished Molly Wizenberg's A Homemade Life. The Post-It notes marking the recipes I want to try out make the book look like something left over from a Pride Day float. My first trial was last week with the Scottish scones. They went down easy with the testers (i.e., my parents), but - meh, I wasn't crazy about them.

But the chocolate and ginger banana bread? Yes, please!

Maybe it was because I didn't have a substantial supper. Maybe it was the fresh-baked goodness wafting through my kitchen. Whatever. Doesn't even matter. As Guy Fieri would say, this banana bread is money. Grado highly approved with some drippiness and a couple of spit bubbles. Even Eds was willing to give me a little sumthin'-sumthin':

Eds [from his perch on my kitchen shelf, overlooking all I do]: I'm sure that if I could eat that banana bread, it would be as good as you keep going on about.

Okay, I'll shut up now. Click on through for the adapted recipe.

Dark Chocolate and Crystallized Ginger Banana Bread
(adapted from A Homemade Life by Molly Wizenberg)

6 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 cup sugar
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup chopped dark chocolate
1/2 cup finely chopped crystallized ginger
2 large eggs
1 1/2 cups mashed banana (from approximately 3 large ripe bananas)
1/4 cup well-stirred plain yogurt (not fat-free or low fat)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease a 12-cup muffin tin with cooking spray or butter, or use muffin cups. (I used a square, heavy-gauge muffin tin without the little paper cups.)

In a small bowl, microwave the butter until just melted. Set aside and let cool slightly. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking soda and salt. Add the chocolate and ginger and whisk until combined. Set aside.

In a medium bowl, lightly beat the eggs. Add the mashed banana, yogurt, melted butter and vanilla, and stir to mix well. Pour the banana mixture into the dry ingredients, and stir gently with a rubber spatula until just combined. Do not overmix. Divide batter evenly among the 12 muffin cups. (I use a medium-sized trigger ice cream scoop.)

Bake until the mini-loaves are golden brown and a toothpick inserted into the centre comes out clean, about 20-25 minutes. Cool the mini-loaves in the pan on a wire rack for 5 minutes. Remove them from the pan and let cool completely. (Or, if you're like me, schmear a bit of butter on one when it's still warm.)

Note #1: This is a dense bread. Don't be fooled that these will be light like little cupcakes or muffins, even if you use the smaller baking pan. I called them 'mini-loaves' for a reason.
Note #2: The original recipe called for semi-sweet chocolate chips and recommended baking in a 9" x 5" loaf pan for 50-60 minutes. Molly suggested placing a piece of foil loosely over the top of the loaf if it begins to brown too quickly.
Note #3: She also mentioned that this bread freezes well, wrapped in plastic wrap and then again in aluminum foil.*

*Though I'll never know, because I plan on taking these to work tomorrow to bribe people and exchange banana bread for various favors.

Home Sweet Home

noreply@blogger.com (arlah_ellie) — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 03:25:00 +0000

Does anybody want a slightly used, slightly bitchy, big-time smart-alecky, wee tiny vegetarian vampire? 'Cause I've got one on offer.

He's home, he's physically unharmed, and he's in a monumental snit.

He's upstairs right now, with absolutely no way of reading this as I write it. As such, I feel completely comfortable in writing the true version of events without damaging his fragile yet elephant-sized ego. Here we go...

First off, I feel a little bit guilty about taking advantage of him at his most vulnerable (to date, and I don't have high hopes for the future). I admit that my first priority should have been removing the restraints. I should have taken him out of the briefcase ASAP, and I definitely should NOT have taken these pictures.

Oh, shut the fuck up, all of you. I don't want to hear any criticism. He was safe, and I had been through a very stressful couple of hours. (Note the sparkly yarn used to tie Eddie up. I told you those Ednappers had a sense of humor.) But what the fuck is that on his face? Seriously. Even Gronk wants to know.

I felt relatively safe letting Gronk take a couple of sniffs, given that Eddie's mouth was still covered, hence reducing the risk of a mauling. And I think it's clear to see that Gronk was just as happy as I was that Eds was home. Of course, I'm not sure that Eds shared that sentiment. I tried to rescue him from Gronk's major lip action, but it was no easy task, what with Eds flailing around and Gronk trying to inhale him.

Yes, I've already admitted that I should have removed all of the restraints immediately - including the tape over his mouth. My hesitancy almost cost me my life, because the next thing I knew, Eds had flown at me in a full-on rage, trying to pull the camera from my face. My finger clicked the shutter in a reflexive action, capturing this evidence of the assault:

You have to admit that he looks pissed. I barely escaped with my life. I'm certain that once the camera was away from my face, and the tape had been removed from his mouth, and he had spent a few minutes gnawing through my flesh to find a vein, and then somehow managed to chew into the vein with those eensy weensy teeth, he would have sucked the life out of me - Carlisle Cullen and his vegetarian diet be damned!

Of course, I immediately removed the tape from his mouth, fully expecting an onslaught of whatever obscenities he could come up with (you know: Jeepers Creepers, gosh darn it, oh my goodness, shucks, shoot, fudge, etc.). But he was strangely silent.

Hmmm... unexpected silence.

Unnerving silence.

Slowly-growing-heavier-around-me silence.

Me [softly]: Edward?
Eds: Hmrph.

He turned away from me in his tiny, slim-fitting designer jeans, leaning against the now-closed briefcase... for support??

Me: Edward, look, I'm sorry...
Eds: Hmrph.

I shifted in my chair in an attempt to look him in the eye so I could offer my most sincere apology. He actually turned away from me! (Gronk, having already gotten his sniff on, was now oblivious to what was going on.)

The fact that Eds had dramatically turned away from me, only to find himself face-to-face with the dog pissing was a little too much. I struggled to bite back my laughter.

Me [valiantly trying to clear the guffaws from my throat]: Eds, do you need some alone time?

He pivoted on his heels and glared at me with black eyes. In that moment, I suddenly noticed the movement of his peacoat. His shoulders were heaving up and down as he drew quick breaths. (Okay, his shoulders were moving only infinitesimally, but when you’re 4 inches tall, that equals heaving.) Since everyone even minimally aware of minipires knows that they don’t have to breathe, this breathy motion was disconcerting. Something was amiss.

I put the camera away.

Not sure how to approach it, I consider several different opening lines. My mouth opened and closed as I tried to wrap my tongue around the words and as tactful as always, Eds was quick to point it out.

Eds [with a venomous tone]: Do you have something to say? Because you look like a dying mackerel.
Me [treading lightly]: Uh, Edward?
Eds [hissing]: Yes?
Me [biting my lip]: Uh, you were tied with yarn. And very loosely tied at that. Why didn’t you make any attempt at getting away?
Eds: …
Me: I mean, come on. The super-strength and the super-speed and the super-stealth? What happened?
Eds [looking down and away from me]: …
Me: Were you afraid?
Eds [no longer breathing]: …
Me [victorious]: THAT’S IT! YOU WERE SCARED!

And the floodgates opened…

Eds [raging]: That woman is criminally insane! Do you know what she did to me? After you unceremoniously put me in a desk drawer? She manhandled me and put me in her pants!

Me: Eds, I think we’re sticking with the gender-neutral “Ednapper,” mkay?

Eds: Stop talking! I don’t want to hear anything from you at this time. That woman, that … The way she drives – it almost caused me to be ill and I HAVEN’T VOMITED SINCE 1918! I was paralyzed with fear. And then she used some form of glittery restraint that was clearly meant as a denigration, a condemnation of what I am. Her laughter still echoes inside my head… And the sounds those animals made… The giant she lives with is unconscionable! He obviously had nothing to do with the plot, but refused to help me in any way. I think he was jealous of my fine clothing. He could never be helped, not even by Alice! The crazy woman put me in the dirtiest location on their entire property, out in the open for anyone to see me. I can only thank heavens that it was relatively shaded and I did not have to worry about exposing myself to sunlight. Her behaviour was erratic. There was no way that I could predict what she would do next. For all I knew, she was going to bring out the matches and make herself a nice little bonfire! Anyone in their right mind – obviously neither of them – would have been afraid!

Me: …
Eds [still railing]: And then you! You come to purportedly “rescue” me and laugh right along with them. You let her put me back in that briefcase! Your behaviour was no better than hers.
Me [still catching up]: You couldn’t predict what she was going to do? Can’t you read minds?
Eds [blanching]: Wha…? How did you…? No, I couldn’t read her mind. I can’t read the minds of your kind.

Wow. The hostility in that response.

Me: Wow. There was a lot of hostility in that response.

Eds was now sitting cross-legged on the top of the table, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. I became aware of the neighbours gathering to casually observe the goings-on.

Me [trying to be upbeat]: Hey, Edward? How about we take this into the house, huh?

Feeling a little guilty about any previous manhandling that I may have engaged in unawares, I asked him if I could pick him up. He agreed with a nod and I carried him into the house.
___

I don’t think that it’s necessary to drag out the rest of our conversation. (Especially my attempts at communicating with him using lyrics from Rick Astley's big '80s hit "Never Gonna Give You Up". Yes, I tried to Rickroll Edward Cullen. Seriously, go listen to the chorus. It was just what Eds needed.) Suffice it to say that we’ve come to a new understanding of each other. Eds is much more sensitive than I thought he was, and while the cockiness is definitely part of his personality, he tends to exaggerate it to keep others at an arm’s distance. Deep down inside (and also much closer to the surface), he believes that he is a monster undeserving of any friendship, love or companionship. It’s something that we’re going to have to work at, but he’s willing to give it a try.

For my part, I’m going to do my best to be less controlling of him. I started by letting him spend the night outside. After yesterday’s trauma, it was clear that he needed to engage his primal, animalistic nature. We set some ground rules: No humans, no domesticated animals, and don’t bring anything home. When I opened the door to let Gronk out this morning, Eds was resting comfortably in one of the Muskoka chairs and actually responded when I bid him a good morning.

I’ve also eased up on the restrictions involving his interactions with Gronk. Last night, after our long chat, I felt the need to soak in the bathtub. To be honest, the evening’s events had left me feeling quite dirty and super-tense. But more to the point, when I had dried off and went down to give Gronk his good night cookies, the two of them were together in front of the TV. Gronk was passed out, laying on his side, and Eds was sitting on the floor beside him, leaning against the top of his head. I came to a sudden stop when I saw them like that, wondering if I had walked in on something I shouldn’t have.

Eds [not bothering to turn toward me]: I heard you coming. If I wanted to hurt him, I’ve already had plenty of opportunity.
Gronk: **ssnnnnnooooooorrrrrre**
Eds [patting his head]: *giggles*

I think it’s true love.

Rescue Me

noreply@blogger.com (arlah_ellie) — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 03:05:00 +0000

Location to remain undisclosed, 7:03 PM

(7:03 PM because, hey, I don't want to seem too eager.)

Holy shit! There are TWO Ednappers! Their casual appearances disgust me. Just sitting there like someone's life (or whatever) isn't on the line here. The shorter one is clearly the boss of the operation here, and as I get out of the car with my ransom, I see her glance at something behind her.

I know Eds is there.

I saw him almost immediately as I carefully approached her. The conditions they were keeping him in were filthy and I knew that if the two of us got out of this intact, he'd have A LOT to say about it.

She demanded to see the money before I could get Eds back into my hands and I obliged, too fearful to do anything but comply with her barked commands. The big guy was quiet, but was clearly the muscle of the operation. I cursed myself for having left Gronk at home, but I couldn't risk losing both of my guys.

She nodded acceptance of the ransom without counting the bills (hence offering some confirmation of my suspicions regarding the eventual use of the money) and thrust Eds into the briefcase before latching the locks. She practically threw the briefcase at me, and I was smart enough to take the hint. I ran back to the car, carefully avoiding the big guy, and hightailed it out of there.

Oh noes! (Take 2)

noreply@blogger.com (arlah_ellie) — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 02:19:00 +0000

Let me step back for a moment and set the scene:

Sicily, 1918... (Whoops! Had a Golden Girls flashback there. Sorry. Let's try that again.)
___

My office, 5:07 PM

I sink down into my chair, speechless, panic clawing at my heart. The phone rings.

Me [barely able to speak]: Hello?
The Ednapper [heavy breathing]: Listen carefully if you ever want to see him dead again.
Me [thinking]: Dead again? The Ednapper has a sick sense of humor.
Me [buying time because my first thought was not of Eds]: Excuse me, what? I don't know who this is.
The Ednapper [again with the breathing - WTF?]: Listen carefully if you ever want to see him dead again. Bring the money in a briefcase to (a location to remain undisclosed to the general public). 7 PM.

**dial tone**

Damn. This Ednapper is ruthless. I've got an hour and a half to scrape up enough money to save Eds AND get to the location.
___

My kitchen, 6:17 PM

I've had a few minutes to think about this. $150 is a lot of money, considering that I've just met the guy. I mean, the last few days have not been a barrel of laughs. Eds is grumpy, critical to the extreme and kinda stuck up. Do I even want him back? Then I remember all of the good times: our movie date, chatting in the kitchen over (my) breakfast and coffee, bonding over Boy George...

Okay, there haven't been all that many good times over the last few days. But I think that he was starting to warm up to us. This afternoon, when he was in my office, he noticed my graduate degree and actually started talking to me like I was more of an intellectual equal (as opposed to a drooling idiot, no offense intended to drooling idiots). I do have to get him back - whatever it takes.
___

My kitchen, 6:48 PM

The ransom is put together. In the briefcase, as requested.

$150 there, all in singles and fives. I get the distinct feeling that the Ednapper might be someone who frequents adult-type clubs, and is intending to use this ransom as stuffing for the dancers' tighty whiteys. Hence the unusual request of $150 (which simply adds up to one good night's fun).

Off I go.

Oh noes!

noreply@blogger.com (arlah_ellie) — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 22:50:00 +0000

There's been an incident.

I can't...

It's just too...

He... He's gone.

This was on my desk after a brief sojourn from my office this afternoon:

For those of you who are illiterate, the text reads, "IF YOU WANT HIM BACK IT WILL COST YOU $150 WAIT BY THE PHONE FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS!" (Okay, I added the exclamation mark, but it's how the note made me feel!)

I have since received those instructions, and I have to meet with the kidnapper(s) shortly. I expect that he/she/it/they will have tired of Eddie's grump and will give him back without ransom. He'll probably be waiting at the curb.

I'll keep you posted.

First Night: A Success

noreply@blogger.com (arlah_ellie) — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 12:30:00 +0000

Well, I took stock this morning. Both Gronk and I are alive and kicking. No tiny bite marks anywhere...

I would call that an unqualified success.**

**With the exception of the facts that 1) when I woke up this morning the TV was still on Animal Planet and 2) there were wee teensy scratch marks on the TV screen.

The night was actually pretty uneventful and, as such, a slight disappointment to me: a little dinner, a little television, a little conversation... (I really don’t mean to use the word ‘little’ so much. It’s definitely not meant as any sort of insult to my new ward.) While Gronk and I were outside BBQ-ing, Eds had a chance to wander around the downstairs living area a (little) bit and seemed somewhat more comfortable when we came back into the house. (And yes, I do take Gronk everywhere with me now as I still don’t like the way Eds eyes him up. Eddie’s eyes are still golden-caramel-amber-butterscotch, so I suppose his tiny belly is full from his last meal. Or whatever. But I fully realize that I’m going to have to get him something to eat at some point. Just not sure what that’s going to be at this moment.)

From what I know about Eds so far, I think I might like him – all of the safety concerns not withstanding. Honestly, I think his extremely prim manner is hiding a true wild man. Last night, I grilled some smokies for dinner. (Mmmm… cheddar smokies… mmmm.) Well, when I took my first bite, a shitload of smokie juice shot out of its rear, across my shirt and onto my shoulder. (TWSS) I was a bit concerned with the whole fuckhot burning grease aspect of it, but apparently Eds thought it was quite funny. What I thought would be little tinkling peals of laughter turned out to be huge guffaws, the likes of which I certainly wouldn’t have expected from such a small and refined young man. Now, it’s unlikely that he was laughing for the same reasons that I would have been laughing had I not been concerned about the need for reconstructive plastic surgery or, at the very least, skin grafts. But it’s a promising sign, no?

He’s still a (little) bit of a stick in the mud. After some serious thought about what activities to offer him during my 7 hours of dead-to-the-world, I came up with a few ideas: books, music or TV. The conversation went a bit like this:

Me [slightly apologetic]: So… This evening’s been great, but I gotta get some sleep.
Eds [slightly annoyed]: And?
Me: Well, Gronk sleeps down here. You’ve got to come with me.
Eds [slightly more annoyed]: I don’t sleep.
Me: Yeah, so I've heard. I figured that you could do some… activities or something.
Eds: …
Me [stumbling over my words]: Okay, look. I’ve got lots of books…
Eds: Hrmph. (Or at least that’s what the grump sounded like to me.)
Me: You can watch the TV upstairs. I can show you how to turn it on and change the channels.
Eds: I think I can figure that out on my own, thank you.
Me [under my breath]: I was just trying to be nice, you little shit.
Me: I’m sure you can. Just trying to be helpful.
Eds: *eye roll*
Me: How about music? You can listen to my iPod. I’ve got some podcasts on there, too. Do you like Ricky Gervais?
Eds: Ricky who?
Me [shaking head]: Nevermind. Oh, but I don’t really have any classical music on there.
Eds: Hrmph.
Me: But I have tonnes of retro. I can put some on there for you. I’ll make you your own playlist!
Eds [with a slightly hopeful crooked smile]: Do you have any Culture Club?
Me [dazzled]: Uh, Culture Club? Like Boy George? Um, I think so.

Culture Club? Whatevs. But he seems kinda cool under that peacoat, no? Plus, when I was ripping a bunch of music to my iTunes for him, I swear I heard him humming along to ‘Dream All Day’ by The Posies.

There’s just one little problem and I’m super glad I thought of it before it could cause any ruckus: How much does he know? Like, what version of Edward Cullen did I get? He hasn’t mentioned any of the other mini-pires, but when I asked him what his name was (to see if he acknowledged the “Cullen” and, by extension, Carlisle), this was his response:

Eds [scowling and super annoyed]: Excuse me? My name is Edward Cullen. You knew that. Are you damaged in some way?

Okay, check that. He must know of Carlisle. But I swear I haven’t heard a whisper about Bella Swan. Is my Eds a pre-Bella version? His super-uptightness would seem to suggest that he has yet to find his twu luv, but I’m not sure how to broach the topic. Suffice it to say that I brought my copy of Twilight to bed with me last night and slept with it under my pillow.

Alone no more

noreply@blogger.com (arlah_ellie) — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 00:03:00 +0000

July 5, 2009

Indigo @ St. Clair Beach

Ooh! A Buy 3, Get 1 Free sale at Indigo. I was planning on getting Molly Wizenberg’s “A Homemade Life” anyway, so let’s see if I can find 3 others to bring home with me. Maybe the new Kathy Reichs paperback? Maybe a cloth-bound “Jane Eyre”? Nah, I’ve got a paperback of that already. Maybe a ...

HOLY MOTHER OF FUCK! IT’S EDWARD MOTHERFUCKING CULLEN!

I have looked high and low for you, you little shit, and even considered paying a $20 shipping charge to get you here from the U.S. Son, you’re coming home with me.

Hee hee, Sweeze is going to get a kick out of this. Wait until I show her.

Back row centre, Theatre 7 @ Lakeshore Cinemas

Me [chomping on mini Swedish Berries]: So, I hope you don’t mind, but I invited someone.
Sweeze: What?
Me: I invited someone to the movie.
Sweeze: Who?

(She is a person of few words.)

Me [pulling the tiny Edward out of my purse]: Edward Cullen!
Sweeze [choking on mini Swedish Berries]: What the fuck?
Me [sitting Eds in a cupholder]: He’s really looking forward to this. Did they have movies in his time?
Sweeze [shrugging out of I-could-not-care-less]: Prolly black and white.
Me [dazzled]: Whatevs.

My kitchen @ The P.C.

Buyer’s remorse.

What the hell was I thinking?

I was definitely not prepared to bring a sparkle-in-the-sun, munch-on-animals, stay-awake-forever, super-speedy, super-strong, psycho-stalker mini vampire into my house. Into my life! WTF?

How do I get him from the car to the house without drawing attention to him? Okay, I put him in the grocery bag – after a LOT of convincing. I didn’t take into account that he would exert free will.

What do I do with my dog? My rational mind tells me that the dog could take Eds, since he’s got about 150 lbs on him. But what about the vampire-related super powers? I have no doubt that he could sneak up on the Gronk when he’s passed out on the floor. Or couch. Or bed. But could Eds actually sink his teensy teeth through fur and skin to hit a vein? Would he just latch on to Gronk’s nose and suck what he could out of there? (TWSS) When I’m around, I can guard the dog or keep Eds corralled, but what the hell do I do when I have to go to work?? During the ride home, I was assured (and re-assured) that I was in no danger. After all, he has been a recovering human bloodaholic for decades and has superb self-control. (Do I detect a hint of cockiness there?) I suppose I could take him to work with me...

But what about my 7 requisite hours of dead-to-the-world? I guess I could lock him into my bedroom with me...

*shudder*

(Honestly, the dude creeps me out. He has this unending stare. Doesn’t ever blink. And when he doesn’t move for a while, he looks like a statue, but YOU KNOW HE’S STILL STARING AT YOU. Little fucker also has a habit of watching me type from over my shoulder. Fucking vampire super-vision.)

But you know, when I try to ignore the creeptastic aspects of mini-pire ownership and care, I see a little vulnerability there. Maybe even some humanity. He has excellent manners and a pretty sharp mind (probably from the bazillion cycles through formal education - and, as he’s just reminded me, his multi-tasking vampire brain). And – you’d never have guessed this – he loves 80s retro music.

Funny, I’d have pegged him for an emo kid.

Vampire Viewing Party

noreply@blogger.com (arlah_ellie) — Fri, 20 Mar 2009 18:29:00 +0000

March 21st will now forever be known as the date of the First Annual Vampire Viewing Party. Yes, you read that correctly: First Annual. I figure that with at least 2 other Twilight Saga movies to be made, we'll be doing this at least 2 more times. And then after all of the movies have been released, you know we'll have to have marathon viewing parties. Ah, I smell the the start of a tradition in the air.

But how to make a teen movie interesting to women from 18 to 46? Three key ingredients: booze, laughter and cupcake flags.

'Nuff said.

Buying a House. Or Maybe Not?

noreply@blogger.com (arlah_ellie) — Fri, 20 Mar 2009 18:17:00 +0000

Okay, so I'm making the big jump to first-time homeownership. I've been in touch with a realtor, have been through several open houses, and actually made an offer on a house. (Whoo hoo!)

So now I'm waiting to hear whether or not the sellers have accepted my offer. Aside from the ulcer eating through my stomach, everything is fine.

I'll keep you posted.

EDIT: The house has been bought. The possessions have been moved. The life continues.

Random Thought

noreply@blogger.com (arlah_ellie) — Thu, 29 Jan 2009 20:55:00 +0000

So, I'm getting old. I know that it was inevitable, but now I have incontrovertible evidence.When I was younger (like in 2008), I didn't have to go to the bathroom at work all day. I could hold it until I got home at lunchtime or the end of the day. No biggie. Now, I have to go to the bathroom TWICE a day here at work. I try to hold it, but then it's like my bladder starts to throb - sometimes to the beat of a '70s disco song. (Ah, ah, ah, ah, staying alive, staying alive...)

And I have a choice of bathrooms here at work, right? The closest ones to me are down the hall toward reception and down the hall toward the cafeteria. It would make more sense for me to go toward the cafeteria for various reasons: I don't have to go through the security door; the public doesn't have access to the washroom closer to the cafeteria, so some diseases are automatically avoided; etc. But the washroom by the caf is only 1 stall and has the shower in there as well. So it's unavoidable that at some point, I walk in there and someone will be in the stall and I either have to wait awkwardly and then sit on a warm toilet seat (gross!), or leave and try again later. At which time my bladder has moved on to the rocking chorus of I Will Survive.

Of course, the washroom closer to reception has its own advantages/disadvantages. It's a single washroom, with a lock on the door - but no "occupied" indicator. So you have the possibility of walking there and finding that someone is already on the throne, and then you have the same problem of having to either wait or walk back to your desk. I've never found that washroom locked/occupied, and I think it's extra awesome because the toilet is really high for some reason. Like, my feet don't comfortably touch the ground when I sit on the toilet. I'm quite tall, and I like that feeling of sitting on something that feels like it was built for a giant. I would not hesitate to have a toilet like that at home if I could. It's just really cool. Plus, there used to be a little squeeze bottle of Smell-Away there. You know, the stuff that you squeeze into the toilet before you shit, and it absorbs the smell through some miraculous process?? (Smell-Be-Gone? Stink Absorber? Shit Neutralizer? Whatever...) Anyway, I guess someone used it all, so...

I wonder if it absorbs fart smell too, or just stuff that's in the water?

Year End Review

noreply@blogger.com (arlah_ellie) — Thu, 15 Jan 2009 00:26:00 +0000

So I'm driving the dog around to waste some time this evening, and was pondering the old upcoming birthday. Actually, I was thinking about the past year, and wondered if I could come up with 10 words that would represent the people, places or things that were the highlights of my year.

Oh boy, it got pretty sad after the first couple of words. Here are my words, not in order of importance. I should note that they don't so much represent the highlights of my year as they do the most memorable parts of my year.

1. Dissertation: I spent most of the year working on statistical analyses and writing up the damn thing. It was honestly the most tedious work I have ever done in my life. But it's done, and that lead to...
2. Defense: All of the stress and nail-biting that led up to the defense was ridiculous (upon reflection). To be perfectly honest, I'm not really sure that it even happened - I may have made up the entire event. No one was there to observe it except the examining committee, so I'm not certain that it was legitimate. However, successful defense equaled...
3. Doctorate: Finally. Well, I haven't actually received the official paper, but I'm going to count myself as achieving the doctorate during 2008. If for no other reason than to be able to ignore it during the next year end review. Then again, maybe I should wait until I can bring that degree home after convocation. (See #2.)
4. Vet bills: The food costs are outrageous, but I can handle those. I like buying him toys and goodies. The vet bills, I don't know. Let's see... 1 rabies shot, puppy kindergarten (through the vet's office) and the deworming he had to have before he was cleared to attend puppy kindergarten, 3 courses of antibiotics for ear infections, 1 bottle of "homeopathic" ear cleanser, 7 months of heartworm pills (which kept increasing in cost as he gained weight), and 1 emergency Sunday morning trip to the animal ER for a severely mangled toenail and the subsequent month-long course of antibiotics. But hey, at least he was covered for the ear infections during that month. Those are just the vet-related bills and, man, that shit adds up.
5. New friends: If I were more creative, I'm sure I could come up with a better word for this one. But this year was pretty good in terms of maintaining relationships with old friends and gaining some new friends, especially through work. Friends that take you to bingo and then laugh at you when you maybe mistakenly accidentally think that perhaps you might have a winning card (when you don't). Friends that commiserate with you about work shit and send you into laughing spasms in your office. Friends that induce fits of laughter when you're driving back from seeing...
6. Twilight: I love - LOVE - the book series and the movie. (I'm hanging my head in shame right now.) Normally, I don't get so addicted to stuff intended for a teenage audience. I think it was a combination of needing an escape from the dissertation work (see #1) and the lack of man-sourced testosterone in my life. You put those things together, and Edward Cullen seems like a real catch. Then add in Rob Pattinson as Edward Cullen. Mmmm... I defy you to resist it. (He sparkles!) Most of the women at my workplace have read or are reading the books, and even the pop-culture-clueless guy who works with us can identify a picture of Rob as "that vampire guy." I've seen the movie 3 times in theatres and countless times on my iPod. When the DVD comes out in March, I fully intend on having a Vampire Viewing Party with themed food and with...
7. Sweeze: What can I say? Outside of work hours (and via email during work hours) I spent an inordinate amount of time with the Sweeze. We share a similar sense of humor and share a number of interests: Book club, bonfires, beverages, Bond. James Bond. (Bears, beets, Battlestar Galactica.) Looking forward to another year of hijinx and...
8. Giggles: I do this a lot. Like, more than a 32 year old should. Mostly at inappropriate times and in inappropriate places. But I like it, so there will be more of it.
9. Alcohol: I also like this a lot. Like, more than a 32 year old should. Just kidding. I honestly thought that my alcohol consumption during the past year was reasonable, but I suppose you have to consider what standards you're using. Me, I was measuring myself against the typical middle-aged Irishman. Looking at all the alcohol-related paraphernalia I received for Christmas, I guess other people weren't using the same standard. Oh well. (Maybe I should cancel that drinking game I was planning for the Vampire Viewing Party.)
10. High-speed internet: I live in the country, so getting high-speed internet was a big deal and happened very much later for me that the general population. Oh, but how I love it. It's opened a new world to me: tv shows online, bootlegged movies, YouTube, iTunes, etc. Love you, internet. Love you so much.

Bring it on 32. Bring it on.

Birthdays: Yay or Nay?

noreply@blogger.com (arlah_ellie) — Tue, 13 Jan 2009 01:53:00 +0000

Okay, so the big day is coming up. I'm feeling... ehhh...

Question: When is a birthday no longer a big deal?
Answer: Probably around 21, when you're finally legal to drink in the States. Anything other than that is just another day you wake up and give a nod of thanks that you didn't die in your sleep.

Wow. What a downer.

So, due to events completely unrelated to the upcoming celebration, I'm in a real bummer of a mood. I'm thinking that being around my family on the actual day of my birth is not going to be all that fun, what with the dogs fighting and my mother's eagle eyes on me just to see my reaction to my birthday presents. (Have I ever mentioned that I am unable to fake happiness when given a sucky present? Probably not - I doubt it would have come up in the past 6 posts...)

At least it's one day that I don't have to be at work.

Three more days to get out of this mood...

Oh look! Another reason to go Mac

noreply@blogger.com (arlah_ellie) — Tue, 06 Jan 2009 18:06:00 +0000

The world is divided into two groups of people: those who have PCs and those who have Macs. Actually, there's probably another group comprised of old people and isolated African/Amazonian tribes who haven't even heard of computers, but we'll leave that for now...

So, I can’t really justify buying a new Macbook since my current laptop is only a couple of years old and perfectly fine. (Side note: The first time something happens and erases my iTunes, the bastard is going out the friggin’ window. No lie.) But I saw something online today that made me think twice.

iLife '09.

Did I mention that the thing will sort photos using face regconition? Or that it will organize your photos based on the locations they were taken - provided that you have an iPhone or some fancy-assed gadgety camera.

But the real reason for my tingly shivers was this: Garage Band ’09. It will teach you to play the piano and guitar! (Disclaimer: 9 free lessons included for each instrument. You have the buy the rest for $5 a pop, so you can help pay for Steve Jobs’ hormonal imbalance treatments.) Actually, famous people will teach you to play the piano and guitar! You can brag to your friends that Sarah MacLachlan taught you how to play Chopsticks, or Sting taught you the chords from Stairway to Heaven. I mean, that’s cool, right? I don’t suppose I could use my Guitar Hero or Rock Band instruments with this…

A little blip from CNN:
http://www.cnn.com/2009/TECH/01/06/macworld.keynote/index.html?iref=topnews

Another new year

noreply@blogger.com (arlah_ellie) — Mon, 05 Jan 2009 02:35:00 +0000

Goodbye, 2008. Hello, 2009. Hope you're better.

Let's see... Resolutions...
I think that my resolution last year was to try to stop procrastinating. Good luck. I also think it lasted maybe a couple of hours. This year, I've made a few resolutions that may be somewhat easier to keep.

Try to chill out. Think before reacting. Especially when frustrated.
Be a "yes woman" and try new things. Well, how about being a "why not woman" instead? Unless it will make me a doormat, or put me in physical danger, or cause me to become bankrupt. I mean, that still leaves plenty to do, right?
Stop calling people "fuckface" when I've driving in traffic. Almost broke that one already.

So, I spent a few hours with Brad Pitt on Friday - in all his incarnations. Yes, I'm talking about The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, better known in my circle as Old Man Baby.

How creeptastic is that?

I would issue a spoiler alert, but I think it would be pretty obvious that reverse aging does not end well. Thus, I don't feel like I'm spoiling anything by discussing the fact that Benjamin Button dies at the end of the movie.

So, little Benny is born and his giant old man head rips his mother's uterus in half or something, and she dies immediately after childbirth. His father is creeped out by the Old Man Baby just as much as I was and drops him off on a doorstep. (Seriously, I jumped a little when the full Old Man Baby was first revealed.) Benny grows up (grows down?), has adventures, and becomes hot, sexy Brad Pitt about 2/3 of the way through the movie. At which time Cate Blanchett finally realizes that he's hot and decides to get freaky with him.

Benny continues to mentally age and physically de-age, until he looks like he's 10 and suffering from dementia. The poor old (young?) bugger can't remember who he is, where he is, or if he's had breakfast. Physically old Cate Blanchett takes care of him and this is the point where I started to get a little choked up, because you know it's tragic. The woman in front of me was visibly crying. Poor little Benjamin Button... Old Cate Blanchett is walking little old toddler looking Benny down the street, and you can't help but feel sorry for him AND for her because...

...WHOA... WTF?

I was into it 100% - until Cate Blanchett leans down and plants one on little Benny's lips. It was a chaste kiss, nothing more than a mother would give a child. But it was at that point that the creepy outweighed the sad and whatever tears I had in my eyes shrivelled up like water in the Sahara.

Still a good movie, all 2 hours and 45 minutes of it.

Twilight First Impressions

noreply@blogger.com (arlah_ellie) — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 13:11:00 +0000

Okay, that was the best $4.50 I have ever spent. Two hours waiting for the inevitable disaster that would be the Twilight movie that... never came. It actually wasn't that bad! Of course, there were giggles, but as a whole? Not bad at all.

ETA: My opinion may have changed on second and third (and subsequent - shut up -) viewings...

A couple of initial thoughts:

Is Emmett Cullen not capable of sitting in a moving vehicle? Seriously, I think that Rosalie owns a convertible just so Emmett can stand up in it as she drives.
The sparkling... really? It was exactly like Edward was sweating glitter. It did not make for "the face of a killer." Bella was not afraid, just dazzled.
Rosalie is a hard-core bitch. SMeyer just wrote hints of bitch, and I don't know if it was Melissa Rosenberg's script or Nikki Reed's acting, but Rosalie brought the full-on BITCH.
Carlisle? Could actually believe him as head of a vampire family, if there ever were such a thing. Calm, soft-spoken, seemingly in charge, making nice with the humans...
Edward Cullen/Rob Pattinson... UNF!
Peach vodka and Minute Maid fruit punch is an awesome combination.

And now I will go.

ETA 2: After the third viewing, I have to say that Twilight may be my most bestest favoritest movie of all time - but for all the wrong reasons. I tink that Edward kept me dazzled through the first viewing. Aaaaannnnddd... kept me laughing through the second and third viewings. For example:

Emmett in a car still cracks my shit up.
The involuntary fastmo piggyback up the mountain that almost made me choke on a Swedish berry.
Edward using a leather-bound notebook to take his biology notes? WTF?
The constipated look that Jasper has ALL THE TIME.
The sparkling... my favorite line: "THIS IS THE SKIN OF A KILLER, BELLA!"
The WTF? looks that RPattz delivers every time Bella says she's not afraid of him, like he's thinking she's a total nutball.

But here's my biggest problem... Okay, so the stupid humans actually believe that klutzy Bella tripped on a hotel carpet and took a header through a plate glass window, but how to they explain the bite mark on her arm? Did she fall into someone's mouth on the other side of the window? It's not addressed in the movie OR the book, and I realize that it's fiction, but it's really bothering me.

Actually, I have a bigger problem... I want to see it again. Soon.

Caramel latte, please. Hold the.... coffee??

noreply@blogger.com (arlah_ellie) — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 19:48:00 +0000

So, I'm on my way to do a little shopping today. You know, chillin' at Indigo, checking out the new releases. Of course, Starbucks was on my list of must-dos. I sidle up to the counter, order my usual (Venti non-fat caramel latte) and wait patiently for the barista to slide the giant cup of tasty goodness across to me.

I slip on a sleeve (thank you very much, Tom Bailey) and take a sip. Hmm... this is kinda not like I usually get. Maybe she gave me sugar-free syrup. Take another sip. Yeah, that must be it. I get into the car and drive over to the other side of the parking lot so I can eat my snack while looking at the large movie poster of Edward Cullen. (Yes, I did. Shut up.) I take yet another sip. This is really NOT a good latte. I just don't think this barista knew what she was doing. Or do I usually get 3 shots of espresso? No, I think I know my usual coffee order. Maybe eating my oat fudge bar will make the coffee taste better.

Nope.

My snack is gone and I've got places to be. I start to drive away. At a stop light, something hits me. This is a really WHITE latte. I mean, you can hardly tell that there's coffee in it. It's almost like - WAIT. SHE DID NOT PUT COFFEE IN THIS LATTE! Well, shit. I didn't pay $5 for a cup of friggin milk, even if it has caramel flavour.

I hightail it back to Starbucks. The barista walks over to me and asks if there's something wrong with my coffee. I tell her that I don't think there's actually coffee in it, and she kinda does a double take. It's really not great when you work for a coffee chain and forget to put the product in the drinks you're selling. Of course, I got another latte (with coffee this time) and a certificate for a free drink the next time I come in.

Bonus information: The gingerbread lattes are coming back to Starbucks as of Thursday, November 13. When I get one, I'll check to see if they've added coffee before I get 10 minutes down the road.

Down in Flames

noreply@blogger.com (arlah_ellie) — Tue, 30 Sep 2008 01:14:00 +0000

Well, my plan to recap all of the OTH episodes this season crashed and burned. Brooke mumbles too much, and my ListenUP! personal sound amplifier hasn't yet arrived in the mail. I had to bail out to keep my sanity. Sorry 'bout that.

Sweeze and I are planning on catching a movie on the weekend. Nights in Rodanthe or Nick and Nora's Infinite Playlist. Hmm... Big decisions. But on to the crazy-assed piece of news I heard the other day. Someone told me that Diane Lane and Richard Gere had been in three movies together, and all three of them had sucked ass.

WHAT??? I beg to differ. I mean, anybody in the back want to raise a hand for Unfaithful? Diane Lane has hot sex with hot, hot, HOT Olivier Martinez ALL OVER THE PLACE. Then her husband (Richard Gere circa 2002, you know, the one with the not-yet silver hair) kills the guy with a snowglobe! Let's take a minute to reflect on that. . . (and might as well think back to hot, hot, HOT Olivier Martinez as well, given that we've got a few extra seconds.)

So while Nights in Rodanthe might not be getting stellar reviews, you have to admit that Unfaithful was awesome in a sexy, horrible, souvenir-as-weapony way.

This One's for the Sweeze

noreply@blogger.com (arlah_ellie) — Tue, 16 Sep 2008 02:00:00 +0000

So, Sweeze can't watch One Tree Hill for a variety of reasons. And I'm going to write a blog post each week to fill her in on the action.

When we left Tree Hill at the end of episode 2, this is what was happening: Crackhead Granny Deb was getting freaky with Skillz, Nathan was warned that his back would fall off if he kept playing basketball but I can't remember if he had decided to stop, Leyton had decided that they were going to get married, Brooke had the everloving shit beat out of her at Clothes Over Hoes and was going to avenge herself with a gun, Crazy Bitch Nanny Carrie was going all Misery on Papa Dan as she schemed to get Jamie all for herself (buahahaha...) and Hales and Jamie were sewing a giant cape for Q, who had managed to get his ass capped when he walked in on a gas station robbery.

*exhale*

Whew.

And now for episode 3:

Recap of last week's episode and title credits. Does anyone else miss Gavin DeGraw? I'll sing it to myself. I don't wanna be anything other than what I've been trying to be lately...

Damn, Q's dead. Nathan's waiting for him at the river court (guess he decided that his back falling out was a risk he could take) and Hales has to tell him that Q's not going to show up. Now how do they tell Jamie? Naley go off to tell Jamie, Skucas go off to tell the rest of the Ravens. I think this episode might be a real downer.

So now everyone in Tree Hill knows that Q's dead, and they're deep in mourning. Deep fucking chagrin ALL AROUND Tree Hill.

OH YES! Crazy Bitch is going to lure Jamie to her by telling her that Papa Dan's dying wish is to see him.

(On a side note, I really liked the fast-forward 4 years idea. At least the actors are now playing characters closer to their actual ages. Season 7 is going to be a TV version of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and the entire cast is going to reverse-age back into the womb.)

Jamie's taking Q's b-ball jersey as a souvenir of some sort. (The kid is looting the Ravens' locker room! Stop that little spiky-haired bastard!) Nathan gives him a tender hug and secretly wishes that Q had washed that stank-assed jersey before he went and got shot up.

Is it just me, or is this epi moving rather slowly? I'm going to have to start blogging the commercials too.

Crazy Bitch is back. She stole Papa Dan's gun from his beach house (what? he had a beach house?) and is threatening him. Uh oh, Papa D just told her she was as crazy as a "craphouse rat." Papa D, you don't threaten crazy bitches who have you shackled to a hospital bed in their house.

The entire gang has gone to Q's house to comfort his mother. Jesus, no one brought a friggin casserole. Jamie's meeting Q's little bro for the first time, and wouldn't you know - ends up giving him Q's smelly jersey. Q's mom is giving props to Sknacas for letting him play b-ball, but even bigger props to Haley for teaching him how to read. Nice. (Side note: Is Q's mom the actress who played Jaleesa on A Different World? Umm.... nope, sorry.) Damn, another commercial.

Naley are discussing whether Jamie should go to the funeral. H says no, N says yes because at least Jamie's first funeral won't be for some old guy. Oh, but his memory of having to kiss his dead and wrinkled grandfather just changed his mind.

Oh, Jesus. Brooke has lost it. She's making lipstick vengeance diagrams on her mirror. Her entire philosophy seems to be "Life sucks and then you die." Apparently, a beat down will bring out the pessimist in you. FYI - she hasn't told anyone that she got beat. Everyone thinks she fell down the stairs. On her face. Haley suggests therapy, Brooke turns her down. She is way too morose for people to keep believing her "the stairs bitch-slapped me" story.

Go, Papa Dan, go! He's got both hands out of the soft restraints. Now both legs and he's outside! He's on the move! Ooh, leg cramp. And... he's down. And there's a shovel to the head courtesy of Crazy Bitch. Ouch. But what was that white grave-looking cross thing that he spied before the Bitch caught up to him? Has she already killed someone? Is it her childhood pet? Or is it just waiting for Papa D? (Edit: OH! Crazy Bitch lost her son, and that's why she's after Jamie. Makes more sense now, slightly. This came out as she was strapping Papa Dan back into his restraints.)

Haley's having a crisis. She's only 22, how can she make sense of this tragedy to her students? Lucas is having a crisis. How can he take this pain away from his b-ball players? Nathan's having a crisis. Who will work out with him now? Dudes, the kid is dead. It's not all about you. You live in Tree Hill. Everything will turn out fine in the end. See, Haley is using literature to get through to her students. Write about Q, and you'll feel all better. "He who does not weep does not see." Bitchin quote to write on Q's empty desk, Hales. Victor Hugo would be proud.

Brooke threw out all of her pretty clothes. Was she raped? I figured that her bitchy mother had hired someone to steal her designs and slap her around. But was it more?

The funeral. Nathan has a heart to heart with Brooke, telling her that he's there for her. Jamie is suited up and apparently has made his own decision about going to the funeral. Can a 5-year-old put a suit on by himself? Seems kinda complicated. Oh, snap. Granny Deb just walked over to Skillz and gave him a graveside cuddle. I think Nathan might be on to them and their sexin now. Q gave Jamie a wooden box during the last epi, and now he's pulling the Q-sized cape out of it and draping it over the coffin. The end. (FYI: there was a voiceover during the beginning and the end. Turns out it was Haley's assignment to her students as written by the Clothes Over Hoes shoplifter from a couple of epis ago.)

Previews: It was just a montage to a song. I didn't understand anything. Basketball season starts with Lucas coaching. Crazy Bitch is sitting on a bench next to Granny Deb and then has a rabbit. (WTF?) Brooke confronts her bitch mother Victoria.

That's a wrap.

All of My Twilight Questions Answered (well, maybe one...)

noreply@blogger.com (arlah_ellie) — Wed, 03 Sep 2008 23:37:00 +0000

Okay, I have to let you know a couple of things about me.

First, I think I am a well-read person and can derive a lot of enjoyment from classics such as The Great Gatsby or One Hundred Years of Solitude and more contemporary literature like The Poisonwood Bible or The Road. I mean, I read a lot.

Second, I really dislike the historical romance novels that my mother loves. Actually, if you can find it in the 'Romance' section of the bookstore, it's not my first choice.

Third, I am in love with the Twilight series. Seriously. I'm not one of those wacky Twimoms, I'm not reserving the name 'Renesmee Carlie' for my firstborn daughter, and I would not offer up my child for Rob Pattinson to bite. (Though, in the interests of full disclosure, I would let Rob Pattinson bite me.)

Yet, since the beginning of August, I've had this question in the back of my mind. How in the sweet name of Jesus did Mr. Sparkles McDazzly impregnate his human lovah? I mean, he has no blood... so how exactly does that work? Granted, it's been a while, but I seem to recall something about spongy tissue that needed to be flooded with blood, etc., etc. And I don't recall reading anything about vampire Viagra.

Praise be to Stephenie Meyer... She had posted a Breaking Dawn FAQ on her website that explains it all. For all of you who are on the edge of your seats and can't wait long enough for a new webpage to load, here are some selected clips:

[Vampire] skin serves the same general purpose of protecting the body. However, the cells that make up their skin are not pliant like our cells, they are hard and reflective like crystal.

Okay, that explains the sparkling. And...?

Similarly, throughout the vampire's body are many versions of venom-based fluids that retain a marked resemblance to the fluid that was replaced, and function in much the same way and toward the same purpose. Though there is no venom replacement that works precisely like blood, many of the functions of blood are carried on in some form.

Getting closer...

The normal reactions of arousal are still present in vampires, made possible by venom-related fluids that cause tissues to react similarly as they do to an influx of blood. Like with vampire skin—which looks similar to human skin and has the same basic function—fluids closely related to seminal fluids still exist in male vampires, which carry genetic information and are capable of bonding with a human ovum.

Ah, okay... Thank you, Dr. Meyer. I imagine that Carlisle's pre-honeymoon chat with Sex Ed sounded a lot like that.

And now, satisfied, I sign off.

Hello Blogosphere

noreply@blogger.com (arlah_ellie) — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 02:23:00 +0000

*POP*

Did you hear that? That was my blogging virginity. Gone. And violently, I might add.

Now it's time for me to get my freak on.

I'm sitting here, with one eye on the laptop and the other on Paranormal State. (Anyone else find Ryan Buell strangely hot, but only at certain times? Like when he's about to shit a brick because Chip says that there's a spirit sitting right beside him!) I swear I only watch this show to find out what happened to Little Boy Ryan to cause him to start up PRS in the first place. Anyone know the answer?