Oh. Em. Gee.

Have you seen this show?

I am in love.

Officially.

Particularly with these dudes, even though they were eliminated.

Whatevs.

Except Nicole Sherzinger is kind of a moron.

And by "kind of a moron", I mean...an epic moron.

On the subject of attractive men from television

I feel as though students would be more enthusiastic about school...

from here

...if teachers actually looked like this.

Y-E-S

from here

Hot damn.

My TV might overheat

from here

from here.

I have no intention of watching these shows.
But.
These men?
Attractive.

I'm a Survivor

Oh Colbs...
You'll always be my numero uno.


PS- Boston Rob got booted? WHAT WHAT WHAT?
I don't understand this game anymore.

Dear John Krasinski

I am fairly certain that I can cook far better than Emily Blunt.
So, you should ditch her.
And marry me instead.
Just a thought.

Adorable photos from here via here

Yeah.

Okay, so I changed my mind.

Remember how I said that "Heroes" was sucking it big-time?

Well I lied.

Last week's episode ruled. at. life.

I can't wait for tomorrow night. In fact, I don't know that I've ever been this excited for a Monday in the history of ever.
And that is a scientific fact.

I'm so sorry, Officer Matt Parkman.
Can you ever forgive me?
XOXO.

PS- Don't go back to Janice. She's a tramp.
Even if she is the mother of your child and stuff.

4 Turkeys, Awesome Friends, and the Undead

Isn't that what Thanksgiving is all about?

So maybe I haven't posted in a while.
And maybe, because of that, a certain Southern Belle is about ready to kill me.
As such, I'm taking a break from my really super-important Twilight reading schedule to update her about my life.
And I guess the three other people who read this can get an update, too.

The picture above = NOT from Thanksgiving, in case you're an idiot.....

Because I'm an adult now (as evident by the fact that I had to name a beneficiary for my life insurance last week... don't even get me started down that road), I couldn't go home on Thursday. So, we had "fake Thanksgiving" last Saturday with my Mom's family at Tommy and Beth's sprawling Glen Ellyn estate. I ate my weight in pumpkin pie and mashed taters, plus my Gramma made me cookies. Then I played Legos with Ethan while Sophie yelled at the top of her lungs that her American Girl doll needed more Redi-Whip on her ice cream. Then we played Mexican Dominoes and everyone asked me what I was planning to do with my life, other than reprise my role as a blight on my parent's bank account.
But...
Pie and cookies!
It was pretty great.

So that was Thanksgiving (and turkey) numero uno.
Numero dos (however unexpected it was) came in the form of my dear friend Lara's awesome family.
Wait, wasn't I supposed to work on Thanksgiving? Thus creating the need for a completely seperate (yet equally awesome) fake Thanksgiving, as mentioned int he previous paragraph?
Yeah, I thought so too.
You see, at about noon in Thursday, my cell phone rang-- work, calling to say that they were slow and that I didn't need to come in if I didn't want to.
Which made me kinda mad. Because I could have, reasonably, gone home and had *actual* Thanksgiving with my family (except it would have been with my Dad's side of the family, and they're not NEARLY as cool...that's right, Gramma! I said that you're cool!).
Of course, I could've also gone in to work, but I was planning on leaving at 5 anyhow, so that I could go have Thanksgiving with Marie's family in Auburn.
Naturally, I called Lara to yell about my irritation for a minute, and also to make plans for later that evening because Gabe was in town (more on that later), and she suggested that I haul myself over to her aunt's house and let them adopt me for the afternoon.

Call me crazy, but that sounded WAY better than work.

And it most certainly was.

After that, came Thanksgiving III, at Marie's aunt's house (what's with all the aunts in this post?).
I was kind of hoping that someone was going to get arrested.
Or, at the very least, there would be a smack-down of some kind.
No such luck.
I guess I'll have to wait until Christmas for that.

Finally, Thanksgiving round 4 commenced this evening at Blake's Mom's house.
I made a pumpkin cheesecake (vegan!) and Blake walked into the kitchen about halfway through the process and said "How's it going?", at which point I turned around to reveal that not only had I managed to get cornstarch all over the counter and the floor, but also down the front of my black sweater, my face, and in my hair.
I let him do the dishes for me.
He's so sweet sometimes.

Verdict: four Thanksgiving dinners later, I resemble the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man.
But I also have really super-great friends.
With really super-great families!
Thanks for recognizing my orphan status and taking me in on this, the most gluttonous of holidays!

And speaking of super-great friends...

So, Thursday night, it was decided that since Gabe was in town (and that never happens anymore because he apparently now resides in Antarctica), it would be used as an excuse to get the ol' band back together.
Amber had mentioned that Gabe, being the kind and generous boyfriend that he is, promised to take her to see "Twilight".
Of course, Lara and I jumped on this.
"Gabe promised to take Amber!"
"What do you MEAN you don't want to go see a movie about sexy vampires?"
"If Gabe goes will you go?"
And this, my dears, is how the six of us, included Blake, Bryan, and Gabe, ended up at Showplace 12 for the 9:30 pm showing. The boys sat on one side, the girls on the other. Gabe and Amber sat in the middle.
A buffer-zone, if you will.
You might recall that this is the second time I've had the privelage of viewing this cinematic masterpiece, and it was even better this time around.
And not just because they showed a preview for the new "Harry Potter" and I got so excited that I totally punched Lara in the knee cap as soon as I figured out what was going on.
After the movie, I looked down the row of seats, and asked the boys, "On a scale of one to ten, how pissed are you guys that we made you see this?"
They just glared at me.
I'm thinking about a twelve or thirteen.
But I'm also pretty sure that I can live with that.
Because hell-LO?!
TWILIGHT?!!

Also of note, pre-Thanksgiving activities included Rock Band, and a gathering at Bradley and Christopher's house that may or may not have involved the use of a fire extinguisher inside the apartment.
PS- there was no fire. We were just really, really bored.
What?
It seemed like a good idea at the time.
What?!
I didn't have anything to do with it. Swearsies.
I just laughed really, REALLY hard.
And then got Black Lung disease from inhaling all the chemicals.
It was awesome.


OH!
And.
Tomorrow (technically today, but whatever) is my little sister's birthday!
Stay tuned for a thought-provoking, moving, and downright badass birthday tribute post tomorrow night.
Why not tonight?
Because I'm reading Twilight.

Duh.


PPS-
Alabama: I'm sorry I didn't return you text. I was busy making a huge mess in the kitchen. And eating lots of food. Look for a special you-related post in the coming days in response to a really, really long comment thread you left on one of my previous posts. I would do it tonight, but... well, Edward Cullen needs me.

I was just wondering

Dear Mr. Bateman,

Wanna be my baby-daddy?

No, really.
I'm serious.

Love,
Me



It's a very good thing that Arrested Development is quite possibly the most perfect television show ever created, because I doubt very much that there's any way I could choke through three seasons of "Silver Spoons" and have the same response. And, only in part because I'd feel like a pedophile.



Also:

What the HELL

Read the linked article, and be amazed.

I'm maybe more than a little embarrassed for the following people involved in this piece for the following reasons-

-The Wife, because her husband had an affair with a computer-generated hooker in a computer generated world
-The Husband, because his wife hired an internet private detective after she became suspicious that his virtual altar-ego was cheating on her virtual altar-ego
-The Author, because they clearly misunderstood the part of their journalism employment contract that included the part about reporting "pertinent and compelling news." I mean, it's not like we're in the middle of a war or a severe oil conflict, or the nation just elected it's first African-American president....

I think my most favoritest part (what? I'm an English major. I can do whatever I want), though, would have to be the blurb at the very end about World of Warcraft.

Le sigh...

P to the S- I'm not posting three times in one day. For some reason, Blogger isn't recognizing my laptops time stamp. It's actually 4:35 am on Sunday, November 16.
Please.
I'm not THAT much of a loser.

The Verdict

Re: Quantum of Solace

Ummm...I was bored.
Like, for real.
I think we all expected better, especially from "the best Bond movie ever."
No seriously.

One of the more redeeming elements?

Please observe the display at the right -------->
Yeah.
And he wore some really awesome Valentino suits.
And a tux.
A TUX.
I think we all know how I feel about men in tuxes.

Yes.


On a more productive note... the tire is fixed! Freaking finally.
Three cheers for AAA, who arrived in under ten minutes, not to mention the fact that they got down on the dirty, nasty, wet ground. While I watched.
I salute you, AAA!


We watched this movie tonight before I had to go to work about vampires in Sweden and bullies and bad haircuts (I only included that because there are a LOT of bad haircuts in this movie-- more on that later). It was, to say the least, enjoyable. Scratch that. Very enjoyable. It was poignant and profound and not at all scary like other Vampire-oriented flicks. I'm not even kidding. It in no way made me think that I would wake up in the middle of the night and look out the window and endure a paralyzing wave of terror coupled with visions of vampires leaping across the roofs of snow-covered buildings in the moonlight.
Not that such a thing has ever happened.
Especially not after watching 40 Days of Night.

Anyway, the best part of the movie was not, as you might imagine, the artistic styling or progressive character development. I think the award for most entertaining movie element goes to the colorful commentary that comes along with watching ANY movie with me.
Not because I'm witty.
Mostly because I don't always think before I say things.

For example, I decided to let everyone know that I had been to Sweden (where the movie was set, in case you missed that part). I happen to do that every time I'm watching a TV show of movie that involves someplace I've been.
Why do I do such a thing?
Because I am awesome.

So I announced that I was familiar with the Swedes. Like the bad-ass that I am.
And, as a result, I endured some following questions all throughout our movie-going experience:
"Hey Molly, are all haircuts in Sweden that crappy?"
"Do all Swedes walk around in their underwear constantly?"
"Apparently, Swedish forensic science is not as advanced as their furniture-making abilities."

Okay, so maybe that last one was me.

Either way, I should probably stop painting myself as some kind of expert on foreign culture. Particularly since I'm not.

Oh, and a quick note to my Mom:
I hereby solemnly swear to never EVER put you in a nursing home.
Explanation to follow sometime in the near future.

I'm going to go eat some more jalapeno pretzels now.

Street Cred

Tire Update:

Still flat. Which sucks.

I even went to Wal-Mart (yes, I went home and washed my hands with bleach and holy water afterwards) to check out prices of potential replacements if this poor little fella is beyond resurrection. And do you know that they wanted ninety-five FREAKING dollars for the thing? That's a 9 AND a 5. What the crap. I was so shocked that I exclaimed "ninety-five DOLLARS?!" (as if I was expecting it to be in rupees, or something) with my trademark loudness and Blake (bless his heart) went "Shhhh...."
I think he might have been embarassed.
Poor thing. He hasn't even met my Mom or Grandma. If that ever happens, it'll be a treat.

We (and by we, I of course mean Blake) had the intention of changing it ourselves, but apparently the good people at Ford chose to put my spare tire beneath the car, as opposed to in the trunk like most normal people. So obviously, it was all rusty and nasty and impossible to remove. Thankfully, I have in my posession a AAA card that would remedy the situation. My dearest mother does nothing but rave about their service, which is good because she pays them $100 a year to be that awesome. So I called, and the really nice lady on the other end took my information and said that the estimated time of the dude's arrival would be about an hour, but most likely less. Excellent. The last time the bailed my mother out due to a dead battery or something, they came in less that twenty minutes, so I was using that as a reference for a realistic time-frame. Great. Then, another really nice lady called me back, and kindly informed me that the guy wouldn't be there until 1:30. Which was a good hour and a half after they'd originally said they'd be there.

Did I mention I had to leave for work at 2?

So I just cancelled and told them I'd call back tomorrow.
Which means I stole Blakey's car again.
Somebody get this man some peanut butter M&M's for his trouble.



And speaking of peanut butter M&M's...and Swedish Fish...

We're going to see this fine-looking gentleman tonight:

That's right.
On a school night
Except for not really.

There's a midnight showing so naturally, I'm there.
Here's the funny thing about midnight premiers: I don't necessarily go to them because I'm excited about the movie.
I go because it makes me cool.
Well, cooler.
Because you can only improve upon perfection so much.

Case and point: Star Wars, Episode 3 (which doesn't exactly make sense because wasn't it the 6th movie? Whatever...)
I went to the midnight premier NOT because I really needed to see why Darth Vadar's voice does that weird, creepy vibrato-thingy, but because I wanted to say that I was there.
Apparently, Star Wars is really popular or something. I can't remember where I read that.
Also someone had an extra ticket and invited me.
Whatever...

There are, however, a few exceptions.
Case and point: Batman, Lord of the Rings, and Harry Potter.
And here's why:
-Comic books of my childhood (and Christian Bale)
-Books of my adolescence (and Orlando Bloom)
-Books of my adulthood (and Daniel Radcliffe)
In other words: flagships of my development as a human being.

The 22nd James Bond flick falls somewhere in between the two paradigms. I respect and acknowledge their supreme and holy place in the world of action films, but I'm not obsessive like I am about some things (cough...Middle Earth...cough...).
Also, I saw the mansion where the Bond novels were written while I was in Scotland. So, there's that.
In an event, I will be there in a couple of hours.

Maybe Daniel Craig will come fix my tire for me.


I'm just saying...
I don't think the other Bonds wore a suit this well.

Yup.