It's going to be an Ice Climbers kind of Halloween...

I attend Ohio University, which is known nation-wide for two things: the journalism program, and the Halloween block party. I wish I could say that the journalism program is the more widely known of the two, but that's not really the case. However, this isn't going to turn into some post bitching and moaning about OU's "party school" reputation. Oh well, we all drink a lot. I'm having a good time, I'm not complaining.

But anyway, for the first time in my entire tenure at OU, I've gotten my Halloween costume squared away more than two weeks before the big shindig. My freshman year, I pulled a pretty neat costume out of nowhere (I was a flight attendant from Snakes on a Plane, with oodles of fake snakes stitched to my outfit and fake blood o' plenty), but the last two years were last minute crappy costumes (some sort of "Josie and the Pussycat" things with my girlfriends sophomore year, and a zombie cheerleader last year). But this year, I actually have a plan: Andy and I are going to be the Ice Climbers! And we actually have our outfits pretty much ready to go!

Our costume is awesome because it's actually coordinated in some sense, it's the first "couples" costume I've ever done, I've never seen anyone else be the Ice Climbers (but I think people will know who we are) and most importantly, we're actually going to be warm in the likely below freezing temperatures. We've considered carrying around a bag of ice to chuck bits at people, but I don't really feel like getting my ass kicked, so we probably won't.

When I started this blog tomfoolery, I said I would try to keep things leaning away from the emo end of the spectrum. I like to write about movies and just general pop culture shenanigans, and generally keep my personal life out of it. However, please bear with me while I take a dive into my current life situation for just a mere moment:

After getting really tired of trying to deny certain feelings and just generally lying to myself, I worked up the courage and told the guy I've liked for years the truth and now we're dating. Andy Lee is freaking sweet and being his girlfriend is awesome.

The End.

Groovy

I finally got my paws on the super-poncy Ultimate Edition DVD of the 1981 horror classic The Evil Dead. I've always liked this movie, but when I saw the fancy, pinky-out 3-disc awesomeness, I knew it had to be mine. Now, for the longest time, I was terrified of horror movies in any capacity. Even bad ones. I have an extremely overactive imagination, which sometimes makes it difficult for me to watch movies and just look at them as a work of fiction. However, I better enjoy this while I can; I've heard from a number of sources that film school destroys your capacity to enjoy movies (I've already gotten a small taste of it; after completing segmentations and writing an in-depth analysis of Psycho, I've had absolutely no desire to watch it again in the past year). But back to my original point: The Evil Dead kicks ass.

Number one, it's got Bruce Campbell in it. I'm pretty sure that "Bruce Campbell" and "ass-kickery" are synonyms. However, good old Bruce isn't exactly sweating testosterone in the first Evil Dead (it increases exponentially in Evil Dead II and Army of Darkness), but he's still awesome.

But the second and more important point is that it is so innovative. I feel like I can count this on the list of movies that make me want to pursue a Film Studies degree. It's not even one of my all-time favorites or anything, but I love watching it so much. Sam Raimi and his friends basically pulled this movie out of their asses, and it has some of the coolest and innovative camera techniques I've ever seen. The movie looks cheap as hell, but that's part of its low budget, campy charm. I can't honestly say if I've ever be good at making my own films (I haven't really had a go at it yet), but I'd like to think back on this film and remember to be clever and innovative. I'm not exactly sure how it works completely, but I think I get the gist of the graduate film studies program: I can get an MFA or and MA. MFA students make their own films, whereas MA students get to bitch about other peoples' films. I bitch about movies all the time anyway, so why not get a degree in it? I just hope that people continue to make awesome movies like this one so I can keep the overall bitching to a minimum.

Imma gonna getsa new tattoo!

My brother is turning 18 next month (September 20, to be exact), and to celebrate, the two of us are going out to get tattoos. I would consider my brother to be in my oh-so exclusive list of best friends, so we're getting a "brother-sister" tattoo sort of thing. More specifically, we're both getting Star Wars tattoos. This will Shane's first tattoo and my fifth, but it'll easily be my biggest one. I've always wanted to have the glory of Star Wars inked permanently into my skin, so I'm pretty excited, and I'm not pulling out any stops. I plan to have some sort of variation of the shown picture of Princess Leia slapped onto my torso, probably on my left side (which is definitely going to hurt like a bitch). Shane is getting the Rebel Alliance insignia with silhouettes of Luke and Vader crossing lightsabers (ala the original poster for Revenge of the Jedi, before the name was changed to Return of the Jedi).

The only one not excited about this is our mom. Go figure.

Pull it together, McFly!

Sitting the in dungeon-esque testing center at work allows time for a lot of thinking. Pondering, if you will. Whereas some people may mentally examine the darkest depths of their souls (eg. every episode of "The Adventures of Pete & Pete"), I prefer to stick to more important aspects of the universe: time travel. Out of any and all sci-fi plot devices, time travel is my favorite. Why? I'm sure a lot of people agree with me that it would kick ass to go back and fix a stupid personal mistake, or maybe take advantage of a missed opportunity. Or in the case of Back to the Future, make your dad less of a pussy, have your brother be a successful business man (who still lives at home...?) and your sister a man magnet. Oh, and you'll have a sweet 4x4 waiting in your garage!

I love Back to the Future. But can we agree that it makes no goddamn sense? Seriously. My lifelong love of this classic franchise blinded me to the blatant issues for a long time. Aside from stating the obvious of "Yes, I understand that having a DeLorean that has the ability to travel through time via plutonium and going 88 miles per hour isn't exactly plausible", the fundamental use of time travel is completely nonsensical. Time travel can't be used to confirm preordained events AND change the future.

In the first Back to the Future, Marty goes into the cafe to use their public telephone where he accidentally bumps into his horrendously awkward teenage father (note: this part rocks because it's where Biff utters the always great "McFly, you Irish bug!" line). But anyway, Goldie Wilson starts gabbing to the cafe owner that he's been studying at night school and is going to make something of himself, to which a stunned Marty blurts out "That's right! He's going to be mayor!". Goldie's eyes light up because now he has the great idea to work really hard and become mayor. Because we saw a "Re-Elect Mayor Goldie Wilson" campaign car roll by in 80s Hill Valley 20 minutes ago (or 30 years ahead, if that's how you care to look at it), we get a chuckle because it is now implied that Marty was behind it all. Okay so far, so good. Marty has pushed along a preordained event.

Skip to the end, and Marty has completely changed the way his family appears and behaves. His dad is totally cool, writes sci-fi novels, wears Ray Bans and drives a BMW. And Biff is his bitch. Awesome, right? No. Marty has altered his future. As badass of a future as it is (please refer back to the 4x4 mentioned previously), it sort of sucks because Marty has no knowledge of this future. Everything that happened before he wakes up for the last scene of the movie, he has no memories of. That really fucking sucks. I mean, honestly!

Oh and by the way, BTTF Part II makes no sense either. Given that Marty and Jessica run off with Doc at the end of the first film to travel into the future to save their delinquent children (both played by Michael J. Fox, disturbingly) they would have no children to save. They just spent all that time zooming around in a flying DeLorean!

BTTF Part III makes no sense because there is a FUCKING FLYING TRAIN at the end. STUPID. What a horrible way to end a sweet trilogy.

Praise you, music deities!

I have been nothing but a good luck musical magnet recently. Everything I've been wanting to hear recently and all the music I have been craving has been appearing in odd places and making me outrageously happy. Just recently, I remembered how much I loved the song "I Saw Her Standing There" by The Beatles. I literally hadn't heard it in years. And then over the course of three days, I heard it in a CVS and then again in a Dairy Queen. Then I felt a lust growing for the soundtracks to Kill Bill and Pulp Fiction. Well, I had a hand in the Kill Bill soundtrack being played, but it was there, and that's all that matters. And I went to get a burrito today and the Pulp Fiction soundtrack was playing at Big Mamma's Burritos on Court Street.

Trust me, I'm well aware that this doesn't sound that earth shattering, but it's been putting me into wonderful moods recently.

Thoughts on "The Big Lebowski"

So, after being pushed, nudged and prodded, I finally watched The Big Lebowski. For a long time, this movie had a large window display dedicated to it at a poster / memorabilia store in Athens. That's why I stayed away from it for so long. In my mind, The Big Lebowski is one of those incredibly stereotypical "college" movies. One of those "OMG I just got to college and now I deeply appreciate the connotations of Bob Dylan songs / think that Bob Marley really speaks for my generation / discovered that motion pictures reached a zenith when Fight Club was made" etc., sorts of things. And it's not even that these things are inherently bad. I like Bob Dylan okay, I'm not the hugest fan of reggae music in general, so Bob Marley is a little lost on me, and Fight Club isn't horrible or anything. But for whatever reason, a lot of people cling on to this stuff for dear life once they get to college.

But I digress. I watched it. And I liked it. I liked it a lot. I didn't love it, though. I loved the characters, but I only liked the plot. Like any Coen brothers movie, it was outrageously intricate and winding. I understand that it is clearly in the vein of many of their other films, but sometimes it just seems like there is just too much going on. Jeff Bridges was pretty hilarious as the ever-chill Dude (and I appreciated his affinity for White Russians, one of my personal favorites), and I particularly enjoyed his interactions with psychotic Walter (John Goodman) and oft-confused Donny (Steve Buscemi). Oh, and that dream sequence was a big WTF (but in a good way). But of course the best scene was them nonchalantly eating In-N-Out Burger because 1) they just went apeshit on a random guy's sports car, who in turn fucked up their station wagon but they still found time to eat burgers, and 2) it was the fucking In-N-Out Burger, one of the most delicious things to grace God's green earth!

In short, I liked it enough to spend a few dollars on a used copy that I came across at Half Price Books a day or two later. Sadly, I didn't realize it wasn't a widescreen edition. It doesn't seem vital to watch this particular movie in widescreen, but I'm really spazzy about that, so we'll see if this specific DVD ever interfaces with the television.

Friday Night Fun for all

On Friday night, I had the pleasure of visiting Andy Lee's Cleveland Heights abode with Chuck and Stephens. Needless to say, I had a good time:

1. I got to go to liquor store on Mayfield Road called "Hollywood Video Liquor". It is literally an ex-Hollywood Video store and the only changes made are the shelves have booze instead of movies on them, and the marquee out front says "STATE LIQUOR AGENCY NOW OPEN". Pretty much one of the greatest places I have ever been.
2. I drove Andy Lee's incredibly sexy Mustang GT. I'm not going to pretend that I know a lot about cars and all the finer elements that separate good cars from bad ones, but I know a good one when I see it. It went fast, the V8 engine made beautiful noises and the dashboard lights could change color. And it was yellow. That's it, I'm in love.
3. I drank a lot of José Cuervo Especial Silver tequila (salute to Andy for going shot for shot with me). It was delicious and led to numbers 4 and 5.
4. I sang my heart out on Rock Band, and due to being fairly inebriated, I held little regard for looking or sounding bad, a formula for getting pretty excellent scores.
5. We made Velveeta macaroni and cheese, and it was the best thing I had ever tasted.

I know I've had a fun time when I wake up wearing someone else's shirt and inexplicably sitting in the bathtub in my parents' house. Friday night gets two big thumbs up from this corner.

Top 5 Futurama Episodes

5) Tie between "Three Hundred Big Boys" and "Luck of the Fryrish"

It was difficult for me to narrow down one episode for the number five spot, and I just couldn't choose between these two. These two episodes are what I would consider to be on opposite ends of the spectrum of Futurama episodes. The plot of "Three Hundred Big Boys" covers a wide array of stories focusing on each primary character's choices on how to spend a three hundred dollar stimulus check (issued as "Tricky Dick Fun Bills"). Generally, the episode is somewhat garbled and frantic, but Zoidberg's touching realization of how money can make him happy (after spending the entire episode searching for the answer) and Fry drinking enough coffee to transcend time itself makes this episode great.

Best quote:

Bender: You seem a tad wound up, buddy. And your face is greasy... real greasy. You been up all night?
Fry: Of course I've been up all night! Not because of caffeine, it was insomnia. I couldn't stop thinking about coffee. I need a nap... coffee time!

Whereas "The Hundred Big Boys" can be classified as 'wacky', "The Luck of the Fryrish" is one of the more sentimental episodes of Futurama ever made (the biggest tear-jerker being "Jurassic Bark" of course, but it's too sad to watch often or write about). In this episode, Fry questions the motives of his older brother, Yancy, through flashbacks of his 20th century life due to finding a statue in Yancy's likeness proclaiming Philip J. Fry to be the first man on Mars. Convinced Yancy stole his identity and his lucky seven leaf clover, Fry searches for answers, resulting in some hardcore pulling of the heartstrings.

Best quote:

Fry: That clover helped my rat-fink brother steal my dream of going into space. Now I'll never get there!
Leela: You went there this morning for doughnuts.

4) "A Flight to Remember"

I think (okay, I know) that the Titanic fan in me makes this episode hilarious. I think the plot of this episode is pretty obvious to just about anyone, but there are so many good one liners and gags scattered around. Watching Fry attempt to tango through the difficult situation of pretending to be both Amy and Leela's boyfriend by referring back to Three's Company, Bender's interactions with iZak and a hearty helping of Zapp Brannigan all add up to a great episode.

Best quote:

Zapp Brannigan: Ah, yes. Comets, the icebergs of the sky. By jackknifing off one after another at breakneck speed, we can create a gravity boost... or something.

3) "Roswell That Ends Well"

This is the episode of Futurama that scored an Emmy win, and it is definitely deserving of the award. When a freak occurrence involving a supernova and microwaved Iffy Pop popcorn transports the Planet Express crew back to Roswell, NM circa 1947, they realize that they are the aliens examined at Area 51. Fry decides to visit his grandfather Enis, and naturally, endangers his own existence. Watching Zoidberg interact with army personnel and President Truman makes for some great quotes.

Best quote:

Professor: You mustn't interferer with the past. Don't do anything that affects anything. Unless it turns out you were supposed to do it... in which case, for the love of God, don't not do it!
Fry: Got it.
Professor: If, for example, you were to kill your grandfather, you would cease to exist!
Fry: [gasp] But existing is basically all I do!

2) "Time Keeps on Slippin'"

Remember when I mentioned certain episodes that can get you a little teary? This is one of them. Although it begins with a ridiculous, but hilarious, plot involving the Harlem Globetrotters challenging earthlings to a basketball game to prove that they're not 'jive suckers', it shifts into an examination of the relationship between Fry and Leela. Time is leaping forward randomly and haphazardly, and no one can remember what transpires between these skips. During one of the skips, Fry does something extravagant and magical to make Leela fall in love with him... if only he could remember what it was. If you don't feel a knot in your stomach at the end of this episode, you have no soul.

Best quote:

Zoidberg: Don't be so hard on yourself, Fry. You lost the woman of your dreams, but you still have Zoidberg. YOU ALL STILL HAVE ZOIDBERG!

1) "The Devil's Hands Are Idle Playthings"

This is my favorite episode ever. It's the episode that I've seen so many times, I know every single line of dialogue by heart. This series finale is full of great lines, clever songs and complex emotions. Fry makes a deal with the Robot Devil that allows him to have mechanical hands in order to play the Holophonor (a sort of clarinet that produces images along with music) to win Leela's heart. However, when Fry receives the Robot Devil's own hands, he puts an intricate chain of events into motion to ditch Fry's 'bony hot dogs'. On paper, this episode does not receive the justice it deserves. Just watch it, trust me.

Best quote:

Leela: Don't stop playing, Fry. I want to see how it ends.

Waiting For October

Her eyes snapped open with the force of an industrial powered mouse trap. Her senses were met with all the elements of a usual October morning. The window she had left cracked open the previous night was letting in a cool, damp and lilting breeze. With a shiver, she curled up into ball, making sure her cold little toes were enveloped in her quilt. Her teeth almost began chattering, but she couldn't bring herself to close the window. The pale dawn helped slowly adjust her eyes to the dim and gloomy room, and she could smell the remnants of last night’s bonfire still lingering in the chilly air.

A knot lay deep in her stomach. Something was different today, but in her post-dream state, she could not remember or place her finger on it. Then she saw it, and remembered. The yellow dress. It was light, brand new. The crisp cotton had not been broken in. And there it lay, draped over the old, rickety desk chair, still on the hanger. The morning was just as she had pictured it, and the dress was even better than she imagined.

The dress had spent weeks lingering in her closet. No sunrise had seemed perfect enough yet, no matter how many days she tried to convince herself otherwise. The air had never felt right, the sun had never given off the appropriate beams. For no particular reason the previous night, she decided to take the canary-colored dress down from its seemingly permanent position. And now, as the daylight began to change from gray to pale gold, she understood this was truly the day. Apprehensively and slowly she sat up in her bed, eyes fixated on the yellow dress. She could feel a smile beginning to form in the corners of her mouth and then spreading rapidly. Today she wasn't afraid, and it made all the difference in her world. It was now or never, and she had grown tired of her mind lingering on the word "never."

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

My good friend Chuck came to visit and we went to see Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince yesterday. I know a lot of people have taken up complaints with this newest installment because it doesn't match up well with the book. Hey, all you complainers, I have something to say to you: this is a movie. A film. On celluloid. Changes must be made. There's a reason that the first two movies suck: they follow the books word for word, scene for scene. There is such an obscenely large difference between conveying ideas on a page and on film. I was 13 years old when the first Harry Potter movie came out and I thought it was the greatest thing I'd ever seen. Taking a trip down memory lane seven or eight years later is a pretty painful experience, to say the least.

But no sense looking to the past, let us examine the matter at hand. Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince was a solid movie. The introduction of Jim Broadbent as Horace Slughorn was excellent. Well, I always think that Jim Broadbent is excellent. Another great part of this movie: Emma Watson learned how to act sort of-ish. I've always had a serious problem with Watson's acting abilities (her over the top enunciation, her unnatural body movements, her general awkwardness with the character), but she did a whole hell of a lot better in this movie. When Ron is totally oblivious to her affections, she actually convinced me that she was hurting. I didn't feel the overwhelming urge to roll my eyes or make dismissive noises under my breath whenever she opened her mouth. As far as complaints go, I felt like there could have been more explanation behind who the Half-Blood Prince really is or Voldemort flashbacks. Not too much more (the movie was pretty long as it was) but maybe just a teensy bit more.

Okay, it's time for me to nerd out a little bit. I couldn't help but enjoy the overall feeling of the film because it was so reminiscent of The Empire Strikes Back. It was clearly a bridge movie, getting us all ready for the shitstorm that's going to go down in the two-part finale. By the end of the film, it's clear that the entirety of the wizarding world lies on the shoulders of three powerful individuals and their choices (sound vaguely familiar?). The closing shot of the movie is in the same spirit of The Empire Strikes Back: looking out toward at a majestic landscape with uncertainty but hope. Given that Empire is my favorite of the Star Wars films, I couldn't help but have a soft spot for this new Harry Potter installment.

All in all, I felt that my five dollars were well spent. The movie was two and a half hours long, but it flew by pretty quickly. I've read all of the Harry Potter books, but I entered this theater with a diminished memory for the plot points (minus of course, the infamous spoiler of the climax), but grew quickly re-accustomed to the action. I'm going to give this movie a solid 4/5.

Inglourious Basterds!

Today, I remembered all of a sudden that Inglourious Basterds is coming out next month! I'm so excited to see this movie, and the trailers have made me even more pumped. Some people I know have already read the script, but I really don't want to know anything. All I know is the general gist of the story and that Ryan (B.J. Novak) from The Office and Neal (Samm Levine) from Freaks and Geeks fucking kick the shit out of Nazis. That's it, I'm sold.

Another thing I'm really excited about is seeing what sort of music Quentin Taratino decides to implement in the movie. His soundtracks are some of my favorite albums ever; the soundtracks to Pulp Fiction and Kill Bill Vol. 1 remind me of one of my happiest times in high school, the fall of sophomore year. I'll be anxious to see if the soundtrack for Basterds does the same for my 2009 summer / autumn.

Oh, and Brad Pitt looks like all sorts of badass with that sleazy looking mustache. You know he means business with a 'stache like that.

Soulcalibur IV can be a piece of shit sometimes

So, this summer I'm living alone. It's not as lonely and terrible as I thought it would be, mostly because I have a few friends in town and on rare occasions, someone actually comes to visit me. A way I've been taking up a lot of free time is trying to master the combo moves and advanced techniques of Soulcalibur IV. Now maybe I'm just too slow with the controller, but trying to figure out controls actually makes me do worse. A lot worse.

If I've had a frustrating day at work or dealing with personal issues, the idea of sitting down and opening up a can of whoop-ass as Talim sounds incredibly appealing. Every successive hit landed and every grab completed helps melt away the stress, one teeny bit at a time. However... if I lose against someone playing as Rock and I'm Tira or Cassandra, it takes every ounce of will power I have not to calmly get up, wrap the Xbox controller around the other person's neck and pull. Sometimes I just don't get it; it seems like blocking does nothing, and I think I'm using it moderately effectively. BUT IT DOES NOTHING (See picture above; somehow blocking is goddamn working!). After getting destroyed match after match, my morale starts to wane, and then I start to question my abilities as a gamer.

I know I'm not the queen of videogames (I wonder who is, because that would be a pretty sweet title to have), but I like to think of myself as being all right at them. I think the problem is that I don't play a lot of single player games. My rabid competitiveness dictates the sort of games I play, and so I usually wind up with some fighter or multiplayer game. I think part of me wants to be known for being good because I like knowing that I can stand out in an industry primarily targeted and geared towards men. Is that a selfish wish? Yeah, probably.

On a related note, if you do want to be mercilessly destroyed, come over and play some Crash Team Racing with me. I like to think it's mostly skill, but I have friends who imply that I'm having intimate relations with the creators of the game, Crash Bandicoot or (somehow) the physical game disc itself in order to get the breaks I do. To which I respond in Soulcalibur fashion "Challenge me again... if you dare".

Why can music be so vindicitive?

Although I feel that saying "I love music" is one of the most cliché and trite things uttered anymore (second only to the far more annoying "I like all kinds of music"; no, you don't, don't say that), I feel like I truly do. When I ponder the eternal playground question of "Would you rather be deaf or blind?", I always pick blind. Not listening to music for the rest of my life would make it not worth living anymore. But seriously, music, you suck sometimes.

While music has the ability to make you dance and smile and think of good times, it also has the heart-shattering power of making you feel like shit at the whims of subtle melodies and your mood. There seriously must be a mathematical equation that the later it gets at night, the more depressed music can make you (unless alcohol is involved, and in that case, I could dance like a maniac to any music). To quote a great and wonderful television show of my childhood, The Adventures of Pete & Pete: "Why is it that when you miss somebody so much that your heart is ready to disintegrate, you always hear the saddest song ever on the radio?". Wise words, Mr. Wrigley, wise words.

When the mood strikes you, anything can seem to relate to something that makes you misty-eyed in some regard. All it takes is knowing the musical preferences of the person you're thinking about and all of a sudden... oh shit, that's right, you feel like a giant pile of hormones mixed with sad puppies. And let me tell you, sad puppies make me feel bad enough. The last thing I need is hormones attached to it.

Recently, I've been feeling incredibly nostalgic. It seems like anything that happens in my life these days is like being whisked away back to high school. Sometimes it appears to be an okay thing, but tonight, it's a big overwhelming "no". Tonight, it's definitely not a good thing. I've been having one of those days where I listen to the same songs over and over and over again, to no apparent instant result or answer. I don't know why I want to feel this way, but for some reason I must. There's no one forcing me to listen to this stuff, so why am I doing it? Why am I making myself think about things I don't especially want to?

"The Golden Girls" is an awesome show, shut your whore mouth.

I would like to take a little time out of my "busy" work schedule to proclaim my deep and ever-faithful love and devotion for my favorite show about four "ladies of a certain age" sharing cheesecake and scandalous sex stories in Miami. I know it's quite the riddle, but time's up and pencils down, kids. I'm talking about The Golden Girls, quite possibly the greatest television program of all time (in stiff competition with Futurama, The Office and Freaks and Geeks).

I have a big problem with people who want to dismiss this show (ie, almost all of my friends; in spite of being very intelligent people with a lot of common sense, they really drop the ball in this particular situation). I know, hearing about older people's sexual escapades can be... well, it's hard for me to think of a nicer way of saying "icky". Yes, I realize that some of the issues discussed on the show are horribly dated. And yes, I notice how ridiculous their outfits can be sometimes (I'm not blind). But step off! Like many things in life, it is important to look at how these things were viewed and received when they first came out. Four single senior women together and dealing with problems like AIDS, immigration, sexual harassment, gambling addictions, age discrimination, suicide, gay marriage (I could go on and on with controversial subjects breached over the course of the seven seasons)... that's pretty ballsy stuff! The show was great because it showed that older women could live without men and still be independent, informed, classy and social. Well, Blanche sometimes has a tendency to have the opposite of class, but I'll give her a pass because she makes up for it in other instances. Oh yeah, and did I mention that it manages to cover all these issues while being consistently hilarious? Well, it does. Sophia's harsh insults that are excused because of a stroke (which "rendered her totally annoying"), Dorothy's snarky comebacks, Blanche's magical way of steering conversations down a sexual path and Rose's bizarre St. Olaf tales all add up to televised greatness.

Okay okay, the show isn't perfect. As a person who has seen every episode multiple times due to watching it in syndication for over ten years, I can spot the problems. Let me first just say, did anyone hire a fact checker? Seriously GG creators, you really bootched this one. According to various episodes, Rose got married indoors and somehow also got married outdoors in February with a flannel wedding dress. Dorothy's son Michael must have some sort of Benjamin Button thing going on, because he gets younger every time he makes an appearance. How many kids do Blanche and her deceased husband, George, really have? Mysteries of the universe.

So, my final thought is that if you haven't actually seen an episode of The Golden Girls, back the fuck off. I have seriously had roommates who straight up laugh at me when they see me watching it (whether on television or on DVD). I tell them to shut the hell up, and nine times out of ten, if they sit and watch the show for a couple of minutes, they're not laughing at me, but laughing with me. In short, GG4eva!

Holy shit, I made a blog!

Holy shit, what is this? I decided to make a blog? I know, try to contain your excitement for this glorious day in history. I've been making fun of blogs for a long time, because most of the ones I see consist of worthless crap and poorly executed poetry (no one cares about your sonnet to your crush who sits in the first row of your Gen Ed English class). All kidding aside though, I've seen some blogs recently that I get a big kick out of, and they have inspired me. I'm not sure what will become of this at all, I guess we'll just have to see. One of my favorite things in the world is being pushy and stuck up my own ass about films, so I might talk about that a little bit. I could talk about my friends. I might discuss the pros and cons of living in a town that relies entirely on a college to support it. There's always a chance that tequila could be discussed at length. I might even talk about my life problems (but I'll try my best to stray away from being too emo, I promise). It is always a possibility that my eternal hatred of the "Twilight" book series could worm its way in. You never know.

Anyway, I chose the title of said blog because it is a song of my personal favorite band, They Might Be Giants. They've been rocking my socks off with depressing (and sometimes confusing) lyrics set to happy melodies for six years. I know, I know, they've been around a lot longer than that, but it took having a crush on a guy in 9th grade who happened to love them for me to finally see the awesomeness. So, I don't know if anyone will actually read this, but if you do, enjoy. And if you don't, that's fine too.