Twas the night before Rapture and all through the lands.
People in tin foil hats, were still making plans.
We'd all seen the signs. End of days nigh.
Just ask a Mayan or Conspiracy guy.
I thought what's the point of a blog here today?
So, I went on Xmas vacation, hip hip hooray!
I can hardly believe that it's already here.
See you in two weeks, Have a Happy New Year.
As I may have mentioned before, I am in love with NetFlix. I love it so much I gave it to my parents for their Christmas gift. The best part about it you ask? Well, it helps with conversation, because all the popular tv, movies and miniseries are there for you at your leisure, and your library is shared with your friends- if they have Netflix. It helps with boredom by having a large and nearly impossible to complete catalogue of categories to choose from and new material is constantly being added. I love Netflix but I especially love watching tv series when the Halloween and Christmas episodes pop up randomly.
Watching a holiday episode in the middle of summer reminds you why those days are so special. The way they're all like miracles in a wonderful life. Heartwarming! The movies of the week with single Moms making wish lists a reality. Shining stars that twinkle on trees and the sound of bells and choirs. People dressed in morbid and sexy costumes that reveal hidden sides of their characters. Ghosts, goblins, turkey and Thanksgiving- they are all on Netflix waiting for their time to celebrate. Too often we forget those special times- all clustered together between October and January. Bringing the family together. Even the not so annual celebrations are there: prom, weddings, birth and death, taxes and promotions. The events in our lives mirrored by our favourite characters, only to be forgotten until selecting them again one rainy afternoon.
Netflix is for spending time with those you love, a 13 episode season spent watching from the couch together. Reminding you to take time and celebrate. Any day of the week can be a magical time if you're ready to sit down and watch 7 straight hours of mirth, merriment and the unsinkable human spirit. And for just $7 a month, it's priceless!
Fine print: Melicious Manners is in no way funded by Netflix; though with a revue like this I outta be:)
This blog would be so much easier. Right? Follow around a dude who solves mysteries and I give my own account of what happened, sans Sherlock brain. My life is so dull sometimes. Though, I don't long for the gravity of the adventures Sherlock embarks upon. Murders, blackmail, kidnapping and I want to pretend to do them. In a world where everything is planned and weighted and done by a stunt coordinator first. I want the made up adventures.
I want very much to be significantly more adventurous. The thing that worries me, is that if I was that adventurous, I wouldn't worry. But I do. Which makes me a Watson. Les sigh. Now, don't get me wrong. I make a great sidekick. I am the best 1960's Robin. I am a fantastic Tonto. But I don't want to be just a Girl Friday. Sometimes I want to take down the bad guy...but without all that pesky danger stuff. Might that be arranged? I want to be brave in the least threatening situation. Match point Watson.
The great thing about a relationship like that? If Sherlock didn't need him for something, he wouldn't be there. The dynamic only works when they work together! Don't you see the pattern? Every Sherlock must have a Watson. Every Guy, had a standup Gal. There's a hand for every glove type thing. Like in tha'Movies. Things move in groups and pairs. Every single one meaning something special to the other. A world of support systems. Spanning a lifetime. What a fabulous feeling; to be part of something so perfect. Or at least it could be , if we we're all a little more Watson sometimes.
P.S. Don't even get me started on Benny, he's the world's best Sherlock:) Mmmhmmm. No offense RDJr.
On my last trip home, 3/4 my parentals mentioned Jilly looked fat. But what this neurotic girl heard was: We said your dog looks fat, but what I really want to say is YOU, Melicious are a fat. A fatty fatty fat pants and even those are too tight. Since the wedding I have gained weight. But I can't stop eating. I mean it, I sit and think about food. If I am not spitting words out, I am shoving food in. This blog is sorta like talking but I've taught myself to type one handed... For many reasons*insert nervous collar pull. The worst part? My loving Hubby and my brand new saddle bags remind me- I'm not 20 anymore. Which in and of itself is a problem, I've just gotten a handle on being 29 and it's my first year of being 30! Roddammit. What do they say? A year late and a holler short? Alright nobody says that.
I have never been a slim person. When I got super stressed out last year planning a wedding to my Hubby (who else) I lost weight all year. It fell off, mostly too quickly, mostly because I wasn't eating anything but fingernails and biting my lip. Oh and booze, every weekend there was a party, for me or Hubby or both. I wasn't planning on losing all that weight. I just didn't think to slot eating into my schedule. Oh boy, did I get compliments. I still had pale untoned arms, but the untone had a much smaller sense of motion. Now, I am more like a flapping pterodactyl, but they're extinct right? Perhaps I am the missing link. Let's not even bring up the bottom half. Okay, in the spirit of journalistic transparency. It's big, it's a big problem. A big, wide, spreading butt with no joke. It's like the Monster Cheese. As we know I exaggerate, which literally means misrepresent as being bigger; convenient but not entirely untrue. The biggest problem isn't just that I've been eating. It's that I also eat the wrong things. Take Mae West snack cakes for example. A golden cake with white icing (icing: a fancy word for sugar paste) wrapped in a sweet chocolate embrace. Mae West is a trampy grown up version of little Debbie, taunting me from the box in her pin up pose, laughing at me. And her cakes hurt my teeth but I love them. So I eat them, in packs of 8 over a week and 2 days... But I feel guilty. I feel guilty and that b*%$h Mae just keeps smiling at me wearing a skimpy outfit. If there is one thing that the film industry has taught me it's that advertising and reality are often worlds apart- Mae West has never eaten one of her disgustingly delicious cakes. Surviving on a strict diet of cotton balls, two finger sandwiches and self loathing. Also, she might have a slight advantage being a cartoon.
PS this may have also caused this On the edge of my seat, hanging by a thread
Today I don't feel like doing anything. I don't want to blog, I don't want to clean, I just don't wanna.*insert foot stomp. I want people to pamper me and fawn over me and tell me, even though it's raining I have brought a ray of sunlight to their day. It's Thursday, a have I got a mean case of the Thursdays. Oh, you might not know what that means... On Wednesdays Hubby hosts karaoke, and he is out and performing until 2 am, and it's 4 am before he gets home. There is more often than not a few beers involved as well. But mostly it's the energy sucking of being the entertainer, always on pointe, keeping the night flowing- anyone who's thrown a party before knows the feeling. The day after is always a kicker. Yesterday I worked until 1am, and didn't get to sleep until 3am and my biggest problem is it was Soo very nice yesterday, and I was at work. I got to work outside for the morning, and sure I got some colour but I thought we were done with this crappy weather. I know, I know, the winter wasn't so bad, but a falsely-started spring is the worst. I gots a mean case of the False-spring-Thursdays- a double whammy if there ever was one. So, today I don't feel like doing anything. So, I won't .
Except this. I am throwing around the idea of starting an online "talk show". It's just an idea...but I am looking for volunteers to join me on my couch. I picture this: an evening of women socializing and then a sequence of interviews about things affecting us in our life and times. Creating an online time capsule for generations of women to come. So plant that seed neighbour girls. Want to join me on the couch? Leave your comments here or...send me a Facebook message:) I hope today's super-cala-dreariness doesn't reach you, wherever you are.
Last night after attending a sketch comedy show, I became the crazy stalker person I am deep inside. With all the tell-tale signs. The tweeting and Facebook posts to people, giving them props, and using inside jokes...but here's where it really gets weird. I made a play for the group. I tried to convince them I would be an asset to their already very talented team. Like I have anything to offer. I write down my slightly off centre remarks at a computer with no one to judge them...But I think I miss the judgement- at least I miss the feeling of saying you can't please everyone. And Sketch comedy is about not pleasing anyone but yourself. It's about writing something you think is funny and showing people who usually think you're funny and laughing together. There's no money in it. There is only fun. So I decided I want to have more fun, I am, against my better judgement I am going to start doing more comedy again. Now I know it's way, Way easier to read this from the comfort of your own home, but you should come too, I am going to take this show on the road. I just need a WIFI connection. SOooo maybe I'll see you in the great wide beyond very very soon. That is if this sketch troupe doesn't need a blonde, creepy, stalker-type in their upcoming show. Stay tuned fo'dat.
Also, today was neato, I got to watch clowns at work. And I don't mean the construction workers outside my door.*insert wink/nudge A friend of mine had a great audition opportunity, but this meant the ticket she bought needed a taker. So I took. An audience of 100 people and I watched as Philippe Gaulier a french master in La Jeu and Clown, toiled and teased and coerced people into being their nastiest, sexiest, niftiest or nicest selves. It truly is interesting to watch how capable some are and how natural the act of buffoon-ery comes to them...Something special happens when you put on a red nose. All the social stigmas of what's acceptable fly out the window. You're encouraged to take advantage of your faults and follies. It is expected that you will walk with vim and vigor- all clowns big and small. I think that being able to hide behind a red nose or funny hat or big shoes is a great way to express yourself. And I might not be too far off already, how would you feel about that? I am sure Hubby would love it.
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