Umm, I don't know if this needs an introduction. I was going through my old videos and saw this...had to post!
Boredom + Silliness =
Starring Me and Maggie!
Song by The Pretenders....ironic eh?
This is proof that putting anything in slow motion is epic.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Some Thompson's Suck!
While most of the Thompson's I know are quite amazing, beautiful, intelligent, extraordinary, etc, etc, :) , some, apparently aren't so great. I mean, I should have gotten this watching Kenan and Kel when I was younger. Huh, you'd think! My intention of this post was not to rant about how much I dislike Kenan Thompson, or his comedic style I should say. (Maybe he's a nice person with no taste, judgement, or self-awareness?) No. I'd rather turn my attention to another 'Thompson' that seems to be wreaking havoc in the world. Ahh, yes. This Thompson doesn't know the great responsibility of the Thompson name. People like Emma Thompson, oh yes, they get it.
So a friend of mine, Sally*, has recently been put into a situation where she is working very closely to said traitor of The Thompson name. Let me give you a play by play of conversation as it was related to me:
"Hi Sally, thanks for coming."
"No problem. It's a great party."
"Thanks." A fake laugh and a disapproving, (disgusted?) glance towards Sally's hair, "Wow, your hair is like tons of different colors."
Sally self-consciously puts hand to hair trying to remember if she had any buckets of paint dropped on her in the last few minutes. Nope. All clear, just her usual brown hair. Sally tries to make a joke, "What is it like green and purple?"
A snort, and a snobby remark is her reply, "What did you run out of money when you were getting your hair dyed?"
Excuse me! Sally's hair is brown/almost a dirty blond, but by no means does she have anything extraordianary like dark roots or blond tips. Not even to mention that Sally is the nicest person ever. She's one of those people who just radiate happiness!
This Thompson is going on my LIST. Right there with Brandon Davis. And I could care less about the whole Lindsey Lohan debacle. Just some people rub me the wrong way. I have some serious issues with people who think because they have the fortune of being overpaid and overadored, that they have the right to belittle others whose income doesn't rival a small countries budget. Celebritiy kills me. Especially when it's those 'famous' people who don't really do anything, or they do but are awful at it. Those that are famous for their pretty face or how much money they inherited. I don't mean to sound holier-than-thou here. I understand the whole concept, I myself have totally fallen victim to idolizing famous people. And you know, it's always bothered me a little. Even when I was writing to the Jonathan Taylor Thomas fan club and waiting by the mailbox for my autographed photo to come. And even now, I'm pretty sure if I saw some of my favorites I would lose the ability to speak and to do that whole 'standing' thing. I do it too. All the time. But my deal-breaker is when the celeb takes that adornment and starts confusing their high status as the norm. Just because you're up in a tree doesn't mean we get to call that the ground now. I equally love you and hate you, celebrity. We can get married, but we probably shouldn't have any kids.
So a friend of mine, Sally*, has recently been put into a situation where she is working very closely to said traitor of The Thompson name. Let me give you a play by play of conversation as it was related to me:
"Hi Sally, thanks for coming."
"No problem. It's a great party."
"Thanks." A fake laugh and a disapproving, (disgusted?) glance towards Sally's hair, "Wow, your hair is like tons of different colors."
Sally self-consciously puts hand to hair trying to remember if she had any buckets of paint dropped on her in the last few minutes. Nope. All clear, just her usual brown hair. Sally tries to make a joke, "What is it like green and purple?"
A snort, and a snobby remark is her reply, "What did you run out of money when you were getting your hair dyed?"
Excuse me! Sally's hair is brown/almost a dirty blond, but by no means does she have anything extraordianary like dark roots or blond tips. Not even to mention that Sally is the nicest person ever. She's one of those people who just radiate happiness!
This Thompson is going on my LIST. Right there with Brandon Davis. And I could care less about the whole Lindsey Lohan debacle. Just some people rub me the wrong way. I have some serious issues with people who think because they have the fortune of being overpaid and overadored, that they have the right to belittle others whose income doesn't rival a small countries budget. Celebritiy kills me. Especially when it's those 'famous' people who don't really do anything, or they do but are awful at it. Those that are famous for their pretty face or how much money they inherited. I don't mean to sound holier-than-thou here. I understand the whole concept, I myself have totally fallen victim to idolizing famous people. And you know, it's always bothered me a little. Even when I was writing to the Jonathan Taylor Thomas fan club and waiting by the mailbox for my autographed photo to come. And even now, I'm pretty sure if I saw some of my favorites I would lose the ability to speak and to do that whole 'standing' thing. I do it too. All the time. But my deal-breaker is when the celeb takes that adornment and starts confusing their high status as the norm. Just because you're up in a tree doesn't mean we get to call that the ground now. I equally love you and hate you, celebrity. We can get married, but we probably shouldn't have any kids.
Monday, July 10, 2006
Did I Say That?
I can't believe I actually just muttered the phrase, "I love Mondays". I'm pretty sure that in some circles I could be crucified for that. This includes disappointing my childhood idols: The Bangles. 
Why would that phrase ever be muttered from anyone's mouth? Well, I'm not sure, but my reasoning went something like this: Monday's at work there is nothing to do on the show, the work week officially starts on Tuesday, (billing wise), but I have to be here, to well, suck up oxygen I guess. (Or run errands if needed?) To make matters better, my boss is out of town allowing me to lay (very unlady-like) on all the client couches I want, watch tv too loudly, and spend hours and hours on the internet. Ah yes, fun indeed. Also, on Monday's there are a lot of new internet stories that are published, I'm assuming fruits of labor from the weekend. Hence, this Monday, I have spent my hours and hours on the internet reading said stories and constantly being laughed at for my unmoving, yet unbeatable, cozy spot on the couch. (And a random note: can I just say one of the editors here loves to walk around with a golf club, as he is doing right now, and I think it is hilarious. I don't know why, but he always does it, not swinging it or anything, just using it to punctuate sentences and stuff.) One last note about Mondays, you can really get away with doing almost anything on a Monday. You do something less than intelligent, or you make a mistake, you can blame it on 'Monday'. Four out of five times, you'll get an understanding head nod. Ahh, yes. Been there before.
Yeah, and then I figured that if I did have any interested readers, (well other than you Christie), I really left them in suspense with that last post. So you wanna know what happened with my moving day? Yep, it was a disaster. I 'Babe Ruthed' that one. There was lots of crying and meltdowns from nearly every party involved. At one point I even thought the movers were going to cry when they left their spare tire behind to fit more of my belongings in their van, and someone stole it. It was an eventful day at best. Worst. Moving. Day. Ever. But now it's like a week later and everything is a lot better, and I have my heath, (well sort of I think), but I'm definitly still alive, which is more than some Enron guy can say. Ouch.
Why would that phrase ever be muttered from anyone's mouth? Well, I'm not sure, but my reasoning went something like this: Monday's at work there is nothing to do on the show, the work week officially starts on Tuesday, (billing wise), but I have to be here, to well, suck up oxygen I guess. (Or run errands if needed?) To make matters better, my boss is out of town allowing me to lay (very unlady-like) on all the client couches I want, watch tv too loudly, and spend hours and hours on the internet. Ah yes, fun indeed. Also, on Monday's there are a lot of new internet stories that are published, I'm assuming fruits of labor from the weekend. Hence, this Monday, I have spent my hours and hours on the internet reading said stories and constantly being laughed at for my unmoving, yet unbeatable, cozy spot on the couch. (And a random note: can I just say one of the editors here loves to walk around with a golf club, as he is doing right now, and I think it is hilarious. I don't know why, but he always does it, not swinging it or anything, just using it to punctuate sentences and stuff.) One last note about Mondays, you can really get away with doing almost anything on a Monday. You do something less than intelligent, or you make a mistake, you can blame it on 'Monday'. Four out of five times, you'll get an understanding head nod. Ahh, yes. Been there before. Yeah, and then I figured that if I did have any interested readers, (well other than you Christie), I really left them in suspense with that last post. So you wanna know what happened with my moving day? Yep, it was a disaster. I 'Babe Ruthed' that one. There was lots of crying and meltdowns from nearly every party involved. At one point I even thought the movers were going to cry when they left their spare tire behind to fit more of my belongings in their van, and someone stole it. It was an eventful day at best. Worst. Moving. Day. Ever. But now it's like a week later and everything is a lot better, and I have my heath, (well sort of I think), but I'm definitly still alive, which is more than some Enron guy can say. Ouch.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Disaster
Let's hope today's not a disaster. It's moving day and I'm sitting on the porch for what could be the last time as a resident here. Movers are coming in 50 minutes and I feel that right now, it's the calm before the storm. First I'm worried that the movers are going to look at all my stuff and be like, "Whoa! That's more than we thought!" I have to keep reminding myself that I am paying them and that no matter what, they have to move me. I think. Then I'm worried that the girls haven't completely cleaned out their apartment. And that when I start to move my stuff in, I will be moving around their's. I'm also worried about what to do with my doggy while the cleaning lady is there and I'm gone. I don't want them to terrorize each other. Whew, it's 40 minutes now and I'm nervous. Here's to hoping it all goes okay.
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