Saturday, May 9, 2015

Mannequin mannequan't

I found a headless mannequin at Goodwill because fate was smiling on me that day. I've been wanting a mannequin for years now because reasons. We have a mannequin store here in town, but they're a bit pricey. So you can imagine how happy I was to find one for $14.99. My husband was shopping with me and immediately helped me carry it to the register when I said "I need this." There was a second mannequin at the register, waiting to be picked up by another customer. I momentarily felt bad for breaking up the twins, but realized it was better this way as I did not know if I had the space for two mannequins. Better they each get a loving home with plenty of room rather than have to fight for affection.

Thanks to the help of some friends, I named her Derriere de Milo. She's spent the last few weeks nude behind the sofa, just for lack of getting to do stuff due to the Polaroid Fiasco. However, it's time she earn her keep. As my husband has been gone the past week at some sort of librarian seminar, I decided he needed a proper welcome home. So I got Derriere gussied up in some fancy attire, gave her a new head and accessories, and placed her in his shower, behind the curtain.

I originally wanted her to be holding an axe. Turns out she has two right arms and holding anything is a problem. I wonder if her twin has two left arms.

The plan was a success. My poor husband screamed in fright as he flung back the shower curtain. Upon collecting himself, he said "Congratulations, you finally got me."

Thursday, May 7, 2015

This is the second worst post you'll ever read

You know what I did for my thesis? Wanna know?

No you don't.

Seriously, you don't.

Because I still have nightmares about it.

Everyone with kids will have nightmares about it.

The poor bastard writing the article about my thesis will probably have nightmares too.

I'm afraid he might hate me after all that.

You know what makes the whole thing worse?

My adviser fucked the whole class over and didn't seek IRB approval or have us CITI certified.

My thesis can never be used for any professional anything ever.

All that work and horror and it was all for nothing.

Please enjoy this cat gif as a palate cleanser:

Some things take a long damn time

Like discovering where I put my left sock, or reading this whiny post, only not as irritating.

I pretty much abandoned this blog the past couple years. When I'm writing for myself, I will stick with it until the heat death of the universe. When I think I might have any sort of audience, I start making un-expressed promises of content delivery, then instantly procrastinate because it's become A Chore and if there's one thing I have mastered, it's procrastination of anything resembling work. So writing and posting content for others became a chore and I was tired of all the work.

For one thing, it takes time to reformat Blogger's weird HTML to not put gigantic white space in all the wrong areas when I insert pictures with captions. On a blog where the content is mostly pictures with captions, that takes too much damn time. Time I could be using to find other things to procrastinate. So I found Tumblr and started a Tumblr blog. It was pretty sweet. I just posted a bunch of pictures with caption as individual posts until my queue filled and then screwed around the rest of the week.

But finding things to take that many pictures of takes time. I'd spend one day a week driving all over the county, looking in thrift shops, flea markets, and antique stores for beautiful and terrible things, then the whole evening downloading the photos, editing them, uploading them, and finally captioning them. As much fun as I had initially, spending that kind of time on something I just did now and then while I was on some other errand or project became draining. I had a ton of content the first four months, but that's because I had taken those photos over years and across multiple states and never posted them. It was easy because most of the work was already done.

Once I ran out of backlog, I spent more and more time trying to find the same level of fuckery in a relatively small geographic area. It wasn't so bad at first because a lot of places were new to me. When I started seeing the same things over and over in thrift stores, I realized I needed to rotate my locations so I'd see new stuff, even if it meant less content. After a while, even that failed to help. I became quite jaded. Things I would have once taken a picture of were ignored because honestly, how the hell can any Precious Moments figurine stand up to Shelly the Clown? It can't, is the answer. Nothing can.

If this was my job or a serious part of my life, I wouldn't complain about the work. Posting fuckery is just something I like to do now and then. I take a picture of a metal goat while picking up milk at the grocery store or go visit some ramshackle antique store in the middle of nowhere while on my way home. Once I went back to school, spending a whole day on fuckery became a problem. The program I was in ran on an accelerated schedule so two months equaled a full semester of regular college. It was ridiculously fast-paced and I got a couple days off every two months if I was lucky. I just didn't have time. On top of that, last year was the home stretch to graduation and I was volunteering at the local women's shelter. Plus I was doing a lot of pro-bono work since I didn't have an actual job. I had to bend space and time just to keep up with actual responsibilities.

Also, Minecraft. But that relates with the pro-bono stuff, so whatever.

So basically, I couldn't keep up the invisible demand of my Tumblr blog and I got burned out on fuckery. Also, spending so much time on Tumblr resulted in me hating all my favorite TV shows, much like that intro to Greek and Roman literature ruined my love of mythology for years. Jesus, just reading Tumblr is exhausting. 

So I dunno what I'm going to do with this now. I like writing. I write a lot just for shits and giggles. I have been told many times I should write a book, but I'm sure someone told Stephenie Meyer the same thing. I tried writing a book once, but it got to be a Chore before I even started.

I'm not going to make promises about posting in this blog on a regular basis or anything else. I don't even know if I'm going to bother to keep the damn thing. But if posts show up here now and then, it's just because I felt like writing and apparently am not allowed to write about Derriere de Milo, my headless mannequin, as my final paper even though it totally belongs as a psychology class discussion topic.

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

I know it's been a shitton of time since the last post

I'm genuinely sorry. I underestimated just how much time going back to school would take up. You wouldn't believe how moldy my unwatched bad movie queue has gotten. Good news is, I'll be done this December. Bad news is, that's almost a year away. I'm not going to make promises about posting I can't necessarily keep, especially since I barely have time for flea market and thrift store runs as it is.

For now, the best thing I can offer is my Tumblr. I know, I know, it's Tumblr, but that's where you'll find my fuckery posts. I can put a week's worth of Tumblr posts in the queue in less time than it takes for me to do one post here, which is a huge bonus.

So please, go there for fuckery updates (there's over 1500 posts, which should give you an idea of all the stuff I didn't get around to posting here) and maybe some day, I'll return here. If nothing else, so I can finish that damn Infection movie.

Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Bad Movie Afternoon: Infection....the Invasion Begins (Part 1 because of all these images)

I'm watching something called Infection....the Invasion Begins. I swear, it's titled just like that. It has two out of five stars on Amazon and is one of the free streaming movies, so it of course is going to be of questionable quality.

The first few minutes of this movie was an unfortunately dressed woman wandering around a really messy house for what seems like a really long time. There was a note that said "please excuse the mess," which explains everything, naturally. Just not to the audience at this point.

Pantaloons are back in?
Not taking a cue from the fact that the letter directed her towards a clown painting, the unfortunately dressed woman digs through an old chest and finds the journal of someone named Sara Prescott.

She then wanders back out to her Smartcar, which needs a key fob to get in, but can be started just by saying "car on!" Okay, so my car is over 10 years old and modern car technology might be this far advanced, but I'm guessing not. Especially since she has a conversation with the car, who is able to discover the exact Sara Prescott and deliver coordinates and in no way comes up with 10,000 Google hits for porn.

After she drives off, the worst CGI future city I've ever seen happens. Seriously. THE WORST. Check this out:

(You really can't see the terrible details of the terrible CGI city in this window, so please go look at it on YouTube:

The lady then arrives at the psychiatric hospital and meets an old lady who is totally not a young woman in bad makeup. The old lady creakily asks the previously unfortunately dressed woman, who might be a reporter, if she knows anything about September 9, 2009, which is when the "modern plague" happens. That was a "long time ago."

And omg! The plague wasn't a plague at all! It was "something not of our world!"

The reporter is at first shocked, but then decides the old lady is nuts. The old lady insists it was all a conspiracy and elaborate cover up.

By the way, the reporter is either a terrible actress or has a terrible director. She shows shock by leaning her chin as forward as possible.

I think this is the part where we go into flashback story mode.

Oh wait, no. They have to go walk in the garden first.

Oh wait, no. Flashback story mode. Good thing they were in the garden. That was so useful for the plot.

So flashback story mode starts with a very confused looking man who may or may not be an alien in human form. I don't think he's supposed to be, but he's not acting like an actual person, so I'm thinking totally an alien.

He walks into someone's house and discovers all these photos have someone cut out of them. Also, some mail. Then he gets some clothes from a box labeled "Deke." THIS IS FASCINATING!

On his way out, his mom (?) walks in and scolds him for being there, then orders him out before she calls the sheriff. It reminds me of soap operas. Because all the drama and closing of blinds and pained gasps.

The scene switches to a bumbly-looking sheriff, who is played by this poor bastard. He instantly does a yokel face and gets in his...sigh...camo-painted SUV and rolls away.

Herp a derp a doo.
Now we're in the local diner, watching a sweet old guy flirt with a pretty blonde server. Then he goes from flirting to trying to set her up with other guys. However, soon Deke walks in! NOOOOO!

I guess Deke and the blonde waitress has some sort of history. Everyone in town hates this guy, so the grumpy old Black cook has to lecture everyone on manners and all customers being equal.

Deke wanders out back to talk to the blonde server, who proceeds to scold him about coming back, thinking people would just forget about the horrible thing he did and blah blah it was terrible and blah blah how could you come back and blah blah WHAT THE FUCK ARE THEY TALKING ABOUT!?

Okay, look. I don't know if the writers are trying to build up to the shock or what, but this whole dancing around is annoying. Sure, unnecessary exposition is annoying too, but it's less annoying than whatever this is.

"Deke, I'm very disappointed in that thing you did. Whatever it was."
Some other dude named Billy walks up and there's the usual shaking of penises until blondie orders Billy to get lost so she can continue to scold Deke some more. Deke is mad because she's seeing Billy, blondie tells him to buzz off, then wanders back inside the diner.

At that moment, Sheriff Bumblypants shows up for some good old fashioned hasslin'. He starts hasslin' Deke about being back here in this here town after ten long years.

Everyday I'm hasslin'.
At this point, I'm thinking this horrible thing is probably just Deke knocking blondie up and bugging out. All this drama surely means it's nothing, but then Sheriff Bumblypants drops the M-word. Murder. Apparently, the sheriff takes murder very seriously in his town.

You know, as opposed to all those other sheriffs in other towns that don't take murder seriously.

While the two are making eyes at each other, a blonde deputy with some nice boobs (her uniform shirt was unbuttoned down to her waist) calls the sheriff to report some strange goin's on. He agrees to drop his hasslin' and goes to check it all out. Deke stares sadly at an engagement ring.

Something tells me her uniform is out of regulation.
Sheriff Bumblypants grumpily arrives in a random field and complains that police work is taking away from his quality Deke hasslin' time. Random local, Mr. Davenport, shows him some sort of meteorite smoking in a field. Sheriff Bumblypants says it "looks like some kind of meteor or somethin'." On the ball that one is.

He complains that they need to figure out what it is because the last thing he needs right now is a "damn UFO convention." It must cut into valuable Deke hasslin' time.

There's some sort of history going between the sheriff and the guy who found the meteorite because Sheriff Bumblypants can barely look at the guy. I suspect Davenport and the sheriff had some sort of torrid love affair, but Davenport broke it off because he wanted to go live off the land and didn't approve of Bumblypants's career working for The Man. They still love each other, but the hurt runs too deep.

So, as Bumblypants has barely started his SUV, alien worm things crawl up Davenport's pants. He looks mildly disgusted, like he just stepped in dog poo.

"Oh man! Aliens crapped on my lawn again!"
As his screams go unnoticed by the sheriff, Deke, who is farther away, hears something is wrong. However, before he can do anything, Billy shows up with a gang of thugs to do some hasslin' while the sheriff is busy. Deke is tiny and outmatched by the thugs, but has the power of martial arts! He takes out one guy, but his showdown with the others is interrupted by alien hissing in the bushes.

Billy orders his thug to go check it out. The thug's fate is pretty obvious: he's named Carl.

Thug #2 goes to check on Carl, but is accosted by Davenport, who's trying to french kiss--on wait, that's an alien parasite, not his tongue. Whatever.

Anyway, Deke and Billy helpfully stand by and watch, hoping to figure out what math is for.

"So one thug minus one thug is how many thugs?"
Billy speeds off in his muscle car and leaves Deke to run away on foot. Deke literally turns around, jogs two steps, and runs right into Sheriff Bumblypants who has been standing there the whole time and couldn't possibly have missed Davenport alien-infect two random thugs, except he is so focused on his Deke hasslin' time that he doesn't give two shits about invaders from outer space.

Naturally, everyone is gone, so the sheriff doesn't have to worry about paying attention to something else. Also, Davenport is now "Murphy" for some reason. The sheriff then proceeds to arrest Deke for reporting that Davenport/Murphy attacked a couple guys. Only it looks and sounds less like arresting and more like Sheriff Bumblypants and Deke have a little sump'n sump'n going on.

This is completely out of context because it's funnier that way.

Bonus: A little sump'n sump'n.

Monday, September 23, 2013

Bootleg Disney Princess Beautiful Music Computer and sorry for the AFK

Well, technically not AFK since I've been at my computer doing stuff. It's mostly school that's got me busy. I'm keeping up with my Tumblr because all I have to do is post a photo and snarky caption and then go pretend I'm not procrastinating whereas here there's a lot more words and HTML tags and...yes, okay, I fail.

Anyway, I'm trying to post things. It will be sporadic. I'm trying to finish some bad movie recaps, a few posts, and other stuff, but I cannot promise regular posting.

Also, I got a new cat.

Anyway, you want the terrible bootleg computer thing. Please enjoy this video.

Monday, June 24, 2013

Bad Movie Night: Hansel and Gretel

Finals tomorrow? What finals?

Again, all in stream-of-consciousness notes. So if you haven't seen it, it won't make much sense. If you have, it probably still doesn't.

Update: I did a watch-a-long with a friend, who posted our discussion on her blog. Please enjoy.


Gary Sanchez productions bump is a little ominous. I always drink my coffee while armed.

So the kids have a really nice beds, despite living in a crappy cabin. It's almost like the set designer (apparently I didn't finish this sentence before getting distracted. I wonder what I was going to say.)

Uh, who the fuck grabs a chunk of a house and decides to eat it?

That witch has a poor understanding of nutrition. If she really wants Hansel to get plump enough to eat, she'd be loading him up on saturated fats, not just sugar.

I don't remember the fairy tale being this stabby.


So what happened to their parents? Was it witches? I bet it was witches. I'm not sure where I got this idea.

Ye olde milk carten missing children notices.

So what's the German word for "hillbillies?" Or "fucking hillbillies."

Witches, man.

Gretel's boobs appear to change size depending on whether her face is in the shot. I guess stunt boobs were in order.

Apparently the German word for "hillbilly" is Hinterwäldler. So there you go.

So Ye Olde Supercuts specialize in grease and dirt.

Oh look, a strange hot woman shows up in the middle of a forest. Is she a witch? I bet she's a witch. I'm not sure what tipped me off.

If witches can make themselves look normal, how did Hansel and Gretel know the hot ginger in the town square wasn't a witch?

Awww, they have Ye Olde Fanboyes!

Man, witch parties must be a real downer. Always hanging around a cauldron, hissing at fire and peeling bits of skin off.

The ginger totally is a witch. She's so clean compared to everyone else. That's probably why they wanted to burn her at the stake to begin with.

A witch forced Hansel to stuff himself with candy and now he has to take an injection or else he'll die? So, witch-induced diabetes?

Witch kung fu. One of the lesser known martial arts.

A taser...because fuck history.

If it wasn't for the skin rot, being a witch looks pretty awesome. Flying, throwing fireballs, laser wands...

How stupid is that kid? Just remove the damn bone from the lock!

More witch benefits: Instant kung fu abilities, awesome outfits. And derpy witch has a pretty awesome look.

"Yeah, so I'm just hanging upside down from a tree, unconscious and bloody. Sure, I'm all right.

Oh yes, the old "the pool has healing waters so let's get naked" pick up line. Works every time.

Oh come on! She can take on witches, but not three unwashed schlubs?

Awww, the troll has a little crush on Gretel. It's so sweet how he smashes trees into guys and crushes their heads.

I don't know what's in that white goop the troll found at the waterfall, but I'm not sure I'd wat it in my wounds.

So, Edward. Edward the troll. Does he have a brother Larry?

So Edward the troll says he serves witches, Gretel has some sort of powers, and there's witch stuff around. I'm going to say that they're witches from a family of witches and good witches exist, but they don't know blah blah witches.

Called it!

Called the ginger woman too. Totally a witch. You can tell the good witches because they take baths and do the laundry on a regular basis.

"...the greatest sabbath of all!" Ozzy?

OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE! Where did the time machine come from? Because how else did that Gatling gun get in his wagon?

Awww, Edward came from a booty call!

Jeez, that is indeed a lot of witches. A lot of witches with gout.

So, an expandable shotgun. Because fuck it, we're going for broke.

So shotguns and Gatling guns are effective against witches. Good to know.

Look out for legless witch! She's like the zombie torso hiding in the high grass!

OH COME ON! A fucking double crossbow?

Yeah, you go Gretel! Help Edward!

Surfing witch didn't do so well. Too bad, cause I kind of liked her.

What the ever loving fuck is that magic bullet?

Aaaaand now a defibrillator. Because why not?

That's it, I'm looking up the IMDB trivia.

"In an interview with Famke Janssen at Cannes 2011, she stated that she took her role as the head witch because she had to pay off her mortgage." - So how does she explain Hemlock Grove?

NO! Not ye olde fanboye! He never even got to touch nipple!

"In the movie, Hansel is diabetic as a result of his experience in the gingerbread house as a child. In the original script, Gretel was also supposed to have an eating disorder as a result of her childhood trauma, but it was cut from the final version." - Few people know that witches are the number one cause of childhood diabetes.

By the way, you kill witches the same way you do zombies: removing the head. Food for thought.

Wait, ye olde fanboye is alive? Was he wearing ye olde kevlar? Oh wait, no. Just shot in the shoulder. 'Cause that's nothing.

Hansel and Gretel have 99 problems and witches ain't one. Wait, yes they are. My bad.

Is that desert witch supposed to look like a fish or a lizard? Eh, fuck it.

OH COME ON! Machine gun pistols now?


Well, I'm not sure what to think. What was with that magic bullet? Which time traveler is supplying Hansel and Gretel with machine guns, tasers, defibrillators, and record players? Why didn't the gingerbread house melt in the rain after all these years? Why didn't more heads get squished? Who was that mysterious surfing witch and why don't we know more about her? So many questions, so few hopes of them answered. Especially since Janssen's mortgage is probably paid off now.