two actually related things (though only in my head)

I want to itch the scab (because it is itchy), but--when I do--the scab tends to fall off leaving the not-yet-healed skin exposed underneath, which is of course still itchy as well, and then I scratch that. Until it bleeds. This has been an ongoing cycle for weeks. (Apologies for the grossness and incredibly awkward punctuation.)


There's a game my brain likes to play called "Where Is My Watch?" The way you play is you become late for the bus in the morning as you search for your watch, and eventually stumble upon it in one of four usual places. (These four are (1) next to the bathroom sink, (2) on the rolling drawers next to my bed, (3) tucked under a magazine on the living room coffee table, (4) a bonus round unknown location that eventually forces you out the door sans clockware (the bonus evidently comes from creating the word "clockware").


Perhaps, sidenote speaking, I should mention that I ate cake for dinner ... and suddenly this post makes more sense.

TO DO

* laundry

* clean room

* eat something other than popcorn (yay best picture showcase!)

* finish (ridiculously overdue) Sad Monkey letter

* sort recyclables

* new glasses!

I always tear up when the gold medalist sings along with their nation anthem at the medal ceremony.

Quote saved in my phone, as typed in: If lions can be cute, I thought he was cute. Sarah (adult Simba) 12.18

I should get around to download some music, if for no other reason than I've run out of room in my phone's memo feature and have branched into the text message drafts box.

Did you know that the only thing keeping me from gaining twenty zillion pounds is that I'm unable to open a new jar of queso, even after all this time?

I cannot not stop and listen to Eva Cassidy's "Fields of Gold" whenever my computer (still unnamed!) chooses to pull it up.

Did I totally just do a post of twitter-type items? Survey says yes! (I'm going to bed.)

(told you the constant posting would cease soon)

My iTunes is playing some floaty song from their free holiday mix that I've apparently played three times before (and yet had no idea that I'd ever heard this song before).

(Don't worry, probably everything I write today will be disjointed and not match up with the following paragraph.)

While grocery shopping on Friday--which only occurred so I could prepurchase my Best Picture Showcase tickets at the discount rate. (Brief shout-out to AMC employee Paul, who had no idea what I was talking about when I came in [Discount? Showcase? Tickets two weeks in the future?] and fiddled with the computer until his screen matched my information. Where did this sentence start?), I picked up egg rolls for my Chinese New Year lunch today. I'll celebrate Valentine's later, when the candy goes on sale.

Yesterday was the fourth (fourth! sweet passage of time save us!) anniversary of spading, or "loving you so much it's upside down and with a stick." (Why, yes, there was lack of sleep involved in this quote/emotion/whatever.) I continue to not understand why more people don't get behind this concept whenever I try to introduce it to new folk. How can you not support an emotion so strong it reverses gravity and must be plugged to prevent overflowing? Maybe everyone who wasn't there at the slaphappy time (all those not named Angelfish and Merefin) immediately conjures up Bob Barker asking us to control the pet population with spaying? Because I could see where that would create a vastly different feeling than the one introduced by playing card spades.

Here's my one profound thought for the day (though somewhat negated by the fact that it came from a dream I was having about Kelly Clarkson and Keats): In a way, we will never be truly, endlessly, blissfully happy until we meet our Lord in Heaven. In the meantime, everything we do will still have a tinge of sadness. (Do with that what you will. I think Keats was trying to woo Fanny Brice with it, but Kelly kept singing. That'll teach me to keep music playing while I sleep.)

This post apparently brought to you by 2 a.m., because this is how I write (and especially punctuate) at that time of day, no matter what time it actually is at the moment.

with the giant scary chicken!

Occasionally I'll break out a "cheap-cheap, fun-fun" from the ubiquitous St. Louis* area commercial for Dirt Cheap, and I'm always a little sad that nobody from Texas gets the reference.



(*Things I that remind me of St. Louis: Saturday afternoon Cardinal games on channel 11, eating Ted Drews frozen custard while waiting in line for the Muny free seats, cheapo commercials for Dirt Cheap and Becky's Carpet and Tile Superstore)

I will not always post this often.

I was thinking about this as I--well, not quite frantically--added nominated movies to my Netflix queue (after upping my DVD-at-a-time amount). I think I'm so very obsessed with movie award shows, the Oscars in particular, because I have the ability to (with a bit of effort) see as many as the nominations as possible. I've never seen any Tony nominees before the award show itself, as much as I love watching the Tonys, and so many popular music nominees I could take or leave. Movies are an accessible thing, especially in my large, multi-cinema city. Besides, it's nice to sometimes see sturdy films rather than just Center Stage for the twenty-third time.

(Not that I'm ragging on Center Stage; it's a different kind of enjoyable film experience.)


Only related in that it was occuring while I was already awake and waiting for the live stream to be live: I don't think any predictions of six more weeks of winter really affects life in Texas, do you? And was it just me, or did the official holding Phil bear a striking appearance to Bill Murray?

meanwhile, the news talks about the remake of "We Are the World"

Who's the crazy person who woke up early to watch the live feed of the Oscar nominations? (Which currently consists of people finding seats and an occasional piercing beep?)

Meanwhile, please do as I do and check out the Razzies nominations and this, the first interview with Bill Watterson in fifteen years.

February's going to be a good month, I can feel it.

(I don't care that my day off has been half spent taking care of work issues and I burned my chicken. Tomorrow is Groundhog Day, Oscar nominations, and the premiere of Lost. This month is already trying to make things up to me.)

Unrelated, the page of quotes (dated 1/11/10) pulled out my jeans pocket after striking the Christmas show. Again, no explanation and no further commentary. Why not? (Well, one thing: of course we're talking about the monkey statue from Legends of the Hidden Temple.)

There was hate in the tape ball. -Stormy

I'm nervous all the time.
Like a Chihuahua? (gets hit with bottle)
I like Chihuahuas! Yo quiero Chihuahuas! -Rebecca/Jason B.

I bet you Jesus could put together the monkey. -Brad

Jesus put together the monkey for you...that's why it took three days. -Will