Ghouls

Halloween is coming up, so here are some scary movies to watch out for:

The Uninvited

I like her and all, but Elizabeth Banks is in EVERYTHING. David Strathairn is my best friend, though. AND, we've got a GG alum in this flick (Gilmore Girls, for those of you reading this who aren't Kate)--Arielle Kebbel, aka "Lindsay" the girl who married Dean after Rory dumped him for Jess...and who Dean later divorced after having cheated on her with Rory.

Friday the 13th

Finally, a remake of this! Let's hope it's good. Jared Padelecki as the main star in this makes me a bit nervous. I mean, I love you Dean, but the last horror movie you did was House of Wax. Friday the 13th is beloved, so let's not mess it up!

The Haunting in Connecticut

This horror movie has it all--the unassuming "innocent" family who "doesn't deserve this," a fridge full of rotten food, scary birds, a hatchet, ghosts, seances (what do you MEAN they had SEANCES in this house?! We're MOVING!), girls getting caught in the shower curtain, and Elias Koteas. What more could we want?

Rumors

Something that I have learned about people: they like to say things.

It doesn't matter if what they're saying is correct, just so long as they get a chance to say it.

The accelerated 2nd degree BSN (bachelor of science, nursing) program that I am attempting to get into is very competitive. They only let in 50 kids per semester. And, it is merit-based, meaning that if you finish the prerequisite classes, but only with the bare minimum GPA that you need in order to be eligible for acceptance, you are not guaranteed a spot in the program. This makes kids very cutthroat. It also makes them say things. For example:

"I heard they've already filled the year 2009, and now they're admitting kids to Fall of 2010."

"Well I heard they've already filled 2010, and now they're admitting for 2011."

"I heard you get in right away if you're double-jointed."

"I heard they only admit vegetarians."

These rumors extend way beyond just the likelihood of getting into the accelerated BSN program. People also like to say things about our teachers and the classes we're required to take. For example:

"I know for a fact that she puts trick questions on the tests."

"I heard he grades his tests at the bar."

"I heard you only get an A if you go to office hours every day."

"Well I heard only redheads get As, and then only if they know how to ride a unicycle."

Today in Chemistry, the shit hit the fan. Turns out there was some kind of technical malfunction that happened when our scantrons from the first exam were fed into the machine. The answer key was incorrect or something. So, kids ended up getting lower grades than they should've. We knew how many questions we'd gotten wrong, because our teacher had gone over the answers with us in class prior to feeding our scantrons in the machine. SO, when the scantrons came back all messed up, our teacher said he'd figured out a way to ensure everyone got the scored they deserved (if not an even better score than they deserved). He would add 10 points to each person's score, since 3 questions were off on the answer key given to the scantron machine (the scantron machine had different answers than the correct answers for those 3 questions, so everyone who actually answered them correctly got them wrong). So if you got 100% it would say on your scantron that you got a 91% (33 questions on the test, 3 pts per question, and 1 bonus point). BUT, some overachiever girl raised her hand and complained that "people who had actually gotten 91% originally would now have 100% with the added 10 points," and she "didn't think that was fair." Her 100% would be in-tact, but she didn't like the fact that maybe people who had legitimately answered incorrectly one or all of the 3 questions "in question" were now getting a free ride. The teacher told her to be nice and get over it.

BUT, rumor has it:

"Now he's not giving anyone those 10 points, because of that one girl!"

"He's just going to throw out the first exam entirely and our grades will be averaged from the next 3 exams!"

"He's just counting those 3 problems as wrong, even if you got them right."

Ugh. I can hardly stand it. I should've had a 98% on the test. I only got one wrong. But if I have to take a 90 or 91% at this point, I will. Hey, an A is an A. I can't help but think a lot of these problems could be avoided if people would just resist the urge to "say things."

Creepy Fingers

I am ashamed of myself. I can't believe it's been so long since I last posted. I'm about to cry. But maybe I'm just feeling melancholy because I'm listening to instrumental folk music on Pandora right now. I can't think well enough to put my thoughts into sentences, so I'm just going to make a list:

1. The new Dane Cook movie is good. I don't care if you don't like him. He's special, and this is my blog and I can say what I want. And I love him.

2. Ricky Gervais is my hero. His new movie Ghost Town is a gem.

3. Beverly Hills Chihuahua comes out this weekend! Lets just be thankful that in these trying economic times we have a movie about talking dogs to go blow 10 or 20 bucks on.

4. I would rather eat vulture vomit than watch Beverly Hills Chihuahua

5. But that is a funny title. You can use it from now on when you're trying to describe the worst night ever, as in: "He made me eat sauerkraut and then we watched Beverly Hills Chihuahua."

6. I just sneezed twice. If you'd seen Ghost Town, you'd get it.

7. I taught myself how to knit, but now I am struggling with the notion that it is an "old person's hobby."

8. If you're not watching the New Adventure's of Old Christine, you should be.

9. If you're not listening to the This American Life or the Creative Screenwriting Magazine podcast, you should be.

10. I desperately want to go to Scotland...or Ireland....or somewhere with "land" in the title. Because when you end a word with "land," it automatically sounds magical...like a place where I might be able to meet a half-man-half-fawn, like Mr. Tumnus. Don't you think Americaland sounds better than America? In America we've got high gas prices and school shootings. But in Americaland, we have princesses and horses with rainbow manes and sidewalks made of marshmallow peeps.

11. Christmas is coming.

12. When someone fast-forwards too fast (or too slow), they've got "creepy fingers"

This happens to me all the time.

I'm minding my own business, happily going about my day, and hoping for the best. I drive to my favorite gas station, the one I always stop at on the way home from school. It's a Meijer gas station--well-lit and big enough that I don't feel like I'm on display. Their candy isn't stale (stale candy is the worst!) and they don't have too much merchandise, so that it's overflowing and falling into the aisles. I hate that. And they're always getting new things, like Bagelfuls. I never buy the Bagelfuls, but I like that this particular Meijer gas station moves with the times. As a rule, I try not to use the bathroom, but today I had to. It's a nice, private single bathroom with a working lock that is usually very clean and airy. I went to open the door...LOCKED. God damn it, someone's in there!! Why the FUCK does this always happen to ME?! That's what I was thinking. Then I said to myself (in my head), "Calm down, Liz. It's probably just some very well put-together soccer mom who is reapplying her lip-gloss and will be out in a hop, skip, and a jump." Do that in your CAR you ignorant BITCH! I shook off all my angry feelings and busied myself looking at the road maps of Michigan. It's funny how if you look at something like that long enough, you'll start to think, you know, I really need a Michigan road map. I can't believe I've gotten along all these years without a Michigan road map. I've been looking at the road maps for quite some time and I start to think, what the hell is going on in there? I think, any minute now I'll hear the toilet flush. And I did start to hear noises, but not good noises. Whoever was in there must have been attempting to rip the toilet out of the floor while hacking up a lung, spitting, burping, yawning and slamming a fist onto the paper towel dispenser. After I finally heard the toilet flush, a behemoth man-beast emerged from the bathroom, clad in a stretched-out gray tank top and tight fitting black jeans and a skull cap. He smiled at me. One tooth.

Gravel--bane of my existence!!

Today I saw "Hamlet 2." It was very good. I recommend it to all of you who read this. That means you, Kate. It's a funny delight. After watching Hamlet 2, I went with my parents to Sam's Club and was dismayed by the lack of free samples of mini quiche there. Usually, weekends at Sam's Club mean a veritable feast of freebies. We went to Sam's Club because I've been thinking about purchasing a new iPod. Sam's Club often has good deals on electronics, and my parents are members. I bought my TV at Sam's Club. Kate can attest to the fact that it is awesome. My TV is the kind of TV that you really want to watch your shows on. And I love shows. While we were looking at the iPods, my dad starting ranting about how technology is "ruining" society and how he hates cell phones, but refuses to pay for a land line. Earlier in the day, he lamented that gas pumps "these days" are "so hard to figure out." I thought to myself that when he says things like this, he sounds like an old man. It's not fun when you have a moment where you see your parents as the elderly folk they're sure to become one day. Later, we went to Courtland Center mall, where my dad was dismayed by the fact that all the restaurants in the food court except for Sbarro's and a pretzel stand had closed. He said the guy at the pretzel stand claimed to be able to make hamburgers, but my dad didn't see how that was possibly since the only thing behind the counter was a conveyor toaster. I don't know about you, but some of the best burgers I've ever had came off a conveyor toaster. We walked around the Steve and Barry's superstore and my dad complained that he "doesn't look good in horizontal stripes." Then we went to JC Penny's, where I was super-excited to show my mom the new Sephora that's built right into it. My dad moped and said he "liked it better when it was Mervyn's." He'd look forlornly at a silk tie display and say, "This used to be the cuff link section when it was Mervyn's." After that, we drove to Davison for a fish dinner. Supposedly I got melted butter with my baked scallops...but only if your definition of melted butter is "chicken broth." I also got some high-school cafeteria style mashed potatoes and gravy, which I could barely look at, let alone eat. And it only cost us $55 for dinner! What a steal. Ironically, my dad had nothing to say about that.

I was thinking that it might be fun to post some of my old emails, so here's the oldest one I've got (it's from March of 1998 when I was a Junior in high school):

"matt,

first of all, i don't know if it was you or tom who fucked with my
password, but whoever it was is gonna be majorly fucked over because i
didn't think it was funny. it took me forever to get on tonight but
i've got a new password now and you can be sure that neither one of
you will EVER find out what it is. and whoever wrote on my outgoing
mail "lizbian queen of the dykes" i didn't think that was funny
either. and ducks can too have names.

liz

p.s.what's so awkward about interracial relationships?"

Leave me alone!

It has been a shamefully long time since I last wrote. Get over it. I've been busy. I finished up my Biology class (and got an A, thank you very much). The most interesting thing about that class was the fact that there were mice running rampant in the classroom. Even though I love mice dearly, it was still frightening to feel something scurry across my sandaled foot during a lecture on the chromosomal basis of inheritance. Aside from Biology class, I've been watching a lot of Big Brother, laying around, going to kickboxing, reading, listening to audiobooks, worrying, crying, listening to music, talking about how people should eat more raw foods, thinking about how I should go outside more often, making lists of things I want to buy, talking about the future, sleeping, dreaming about telling the contestants on Big Brother what strategic moves they should be making, jogging, playing word games, attempting to learn how to hip-hop dance, reorganizing my drawers, thinking about how pretty soon I won't be able to wear sandals anymore, pouting, cooking, going to the movies, and talking on the phone. So, I haven't had a lot of time to write this blog.

Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

Tonight at dinner, I spent the entire time listening to my parents argue and looking out the window at couples getting into their cars in the parking lot, wondering where they were going, where they'd been and if they still love each other. I ordered a baked potato instead of fries because I figured it would make my dad happy. He doesn't like to see me eat fatty foods. But my baked potato was old and wrinkled. Meanwhile my mom ordered a fully-loaded Coney dog and fries. I found out when I got home that I was not picked to be an extra in the Drew Barrymore movie they're shooting in and around Saline this summer. Well that's just great! I read that they needed thousands of people, so I figured, sure, they'll call me. I guess I'm not pretty enough or cool enough or special enough or quirky enough to even stand in the background while Drew Barrymore walks down the street. And I just wanted to see famous people. Still, I know there is a lot to be thankful for. Diet Coke tastes delicious, Big Brother is on tonight, and my mom bought these new flip-side crackers (one side is pretzel, the other side is cheddar!) upon my request. I can't eat the crackers in front of my dad, though. So what I'll probably do is put some in a Ziploc bag and hide it at the back of my closet or under my pillow and then munch away quietly while watching a documentary about people who attempt to ride Great White sharks. This past Monday was my birthday. I got a lot of well-wishes from friends and family, so I'm thankful for that too. I'm 26 now. I guess that means I'm...well, I don't really know what that means. There's no set thing that you're supposed to know or be able to do by age 26. Or maybe there is and I'm just too dumb to know it. Maybe that's why Drew Barrymore hates me. I'm 26. I'm living with my parents. I miss Sean and Catie. I miss Kate. And sometimes I even miss Josh, though I probably shouldn't allow myself to. Every year on my birthday, I buy a gift for myself. It's kind of like a safety net, so that if no one gets me what I really want, I know I'll just go and get it for myself. Birthdays and holidays aren't supposed to be about presents, but let's be honest, they're a little bit about presents. They're also a little bit about seeing which people really know you, who's really in your corner, who cares. One year for my birthday, Josh got me an ankle bracelet. It was nice and all, but most anyone who knows me knows I'm not much of a jewelry girl, and definitely not much of a foot-jewelry girl. It's the thought that counts, though--I know. I wore that ankle bracelet to my sister's wedding. Eventually I grew to like what it represented, or what I thought it represented--that Josh saw me as someone graceful enough or feminine enough to wear something like a pretty silver ankle chain. Since a lot of times I think of myself as someone who looks thick and solid and man-ish, or as my dad and other gentler sorts would describe my body type: "strong," it felt good to think of myself as girly for once. But, I remember showing Josh that I was wearing the ankle bracelet, and he didn't even remember giving it to me. When I reminded him that it had been his birthday gift to me just a month before, he told me he must've forgotten since he sent his sister to pick it out. His sister, whom I'd never even met. This year, I couldn't think of a gift to get myself. What do you get for a 26-year-old who's got pretty much everything, including a fantasmo TV on which to watch everything from Jaws to Gilmore Girls? Nothing, I guess.