Predator “clicking” noise – aka Dad’s rumbling stomach

My Dad has what I’ve come to call the Predator Stomach growl. Or, alternatively, the Velociraptor challenge call, since we both have “growling” stomachs – sometimes, I refer to it as the Battle of the Bellies, as it seems as if we’re trying to decide which one of us is the Alpha.

All packs have their own ways of deciding pecking order. Ours is the way of the rumbling bellies.

Propriété publique?

If I could trust Google translate (or, for that matter, my own high school French), enough, I’d probably try to write this post in French, so as to not seem like the typical (?) envious co-fan in a different part of Europe.
…I’m pretty sure I’d be exposed as a fraud immediately, which I won’t even give it a go.

Anyway, being, quite possibly, THE no. 1 anti-media media addict, I found an article about how Ian Somerhalder (of The Vampire Diares fame – as if he needed an introduction) “had acted like a d*ick to his French fans” (who, by the way, had waited outside the hotel were Ian & Nikki were spending their honeymoon), who wanted nothing more than a photo op with their fave ‘sucker.

Ian, reportedly, went off on a “lecture” about how this was his (and wifey, Nikki’s,) day and even though he loves his fans, this wasn’t the time for pictures and signing etc.
This has since been – in my opinion – blown WAY out of proportion.

Let’s all try to be honest here, if it hadn’t been Ian, but Gaspard (no. 66 on the most popular names of French baby boys – I felt I wanted something that sounded “unmistakably” French, and Gaspard was one of the first I noticed, other than Baptiste, which I thought was a bit “on the nose” – don’t judge me!), who’d spent his anniversary at said hotel, and a complete stranger came up to him and asked him if he’d be willing to take a photo of the stranger with the Eiffel Tower on his head (I have very limited knowledge of France).

Gaspard might’ve said yes. It wouldn’t have taken him long and he and Élise (no. 48, French baby girls’ names), have been happily married for 25 years (and his eyes still glitters when he looks at her, and she still believes he would pick her the pretties star out of the sky if only he could) – only thing is, the tourist isn’t happy with the outcome of the photo. He should’ve been standing a bit more to the left, or maybe Gaspard should’ve. What if he, the tourist, moved three paces backwards? Or if Gaspard got down on his knee?

Eventually, even a good man, such as Gaspard, would start thinking that it’s taking up too much of his and Élise’s special day and politely tell the tourist that it is, in fact, their anniversary and they have a table book for 8pm.
A normal tourist would not take this as offense against his own person, but rather be grateful that Gaspard had, despite this fact, made an effort (such as I personally think Ian did, telling his fans that he loves them, but that this was his special day. That he’s there for his fans every other day of the year. That he probably would’ve taken pictures with his loyal fans, had it not been for the fact that he and his wife of only a little over a month, were there to enjoy each others’ company).

Ian and Nikki deserve the same amount of alone time, or time spent with each other, as much as anyone else. Even Hollywood’s sweetheart, Jennifer Lawrence, has said that she doesn’t like to be disturbed when she’s at a restaurant, eating.

I might be in a minority here, but I don’t think that just because someone’s famous, that it makes them overly accessible.

IMPORTANT!

Please, someone tell me these t-shirts are available, somewhere? I NEED Paul Wesley’s! Because Chris Wood…
Someone creative make me this and I’ll be your slave for life.

I think these t-shirts were gifts from fans at the Bite Me, I’m Famous 3 convention, but someone [creative] should really mass produce them – they’d sell like hotcakes (what a weird idiom o.O )!

[Disclaimer: Due to too many unknown factors, life expectancy cannot, at this time, be calculated.]

Job application

Young woman in search of research assistant job. Preferably to an eccentric, possibly slightly anthropophobic, scientist with an interest in the obscure and/or occult.

Since I haven’t found a treasure map yet – at least not one that led me to what you’d call an actual treasure (like the one Edmond Dantès “inherited” from Abbé Faria) – or won the lottery (though, I’ve been told that to win at the lottery, you actually have to play the lottery; I’m not sure about all the details…), I’m in need of a job.

And not just some soul-crushing-9-5-possibly-rather-sell-my-soul job, but something thrillingexciting and possibly unobtainable *cough* (Though I choose to be optimistic about it!)

It is true that I could use a job, especially if I want to keep my beloved car, Vinnie, which I desperately do, and it’s also true that I would love a job like a research assistant for a, preferably eccentric and possibly slightly anthropophobic, scientist with an interest in the obscure and/or occult. But I could definitely see myself spending my hours in a bookshop, or an antique shop, a library or at a zoo, for example 💞

But seriously, I’m just tossing it out there in case someone knows someone who’s in need of a fast learning research assistant with a lot of interesting and maybe slightly unconventional knowledge as well as an unfaltering sense of logic and an open mind towards the unknown.

(Or knows someone who’s in need of a bookshop, antique shop, library or zoo assistant.)


Portrait of Salvador Dalì, self-proclaimed eccentric 💎

Chris Pratt challenges my moral values.

I know it’s (most likely*) edited, and I do not support the stigma photoshopping causes young and/or impressionable people (hey, I’m one myself – impressionable, that is), and I’m also very pro-equality and against the slap-the-secretary-on-the-butt-to-make-him-or-her-feel-“appreciated”-mentality, but Chris Pratt is looking SO HOT on the cover of GQ!

*Disclaimer: Pratt may not have needed airbrushing. I’m just assuming that this is somehow mandatory when it comes to magazine covers et al.

Image via Celebuzz

Chris Pratt for GQ

Image via Celebuzz.

A moment of silence

A moment of silence for the infinite number of spiders who yearly suffer death at the hands of humans due to poor education.

Adding “Where to Weave” to the curriculum in elementary schools, and making it mandatory, would save thousands upon thousands of lives each year.

Instead they’re spending much needed resources on classes such as “Creative Webbing” and “Yoga for You”.

(It proved a bit of a challenge to find a “cute” spider that didn’t terrify me.)

Thoughts that currently occupy my mind

(Because all of the important ones just seem to flee through the figurative fingers of my mind.)

1) I find it troublesome that thoughts like “Is drinking blood to vampires what taking Viagra is to humans?” takes up space in my head. Even more so that I could, probably easily, write a medium length paper based solely on above pondering.
And have a decent chance of getting it published in a “more or less” not-not-serious magazine.

I mean, vampires are, by definition, a “being who subsists by feeding on the life essence (generally in the form of blood) of living creatures”¹ – of living creatures (mostly humans, but there are, supposedly, less picky ‘pires, too), indicating that they – vampires – are, ipso facto, dead.

Without having had any actual experience of being dead myself, I can only make assumptions, but that has never stopped me before, has it?, (rhetorical question), and so, here is my thesis:

Even though there are different definitions of what being dead means, and I’m not just talking zombies v. vampires, but also the possibility of life support, steampunk and the Frankenstein Formula of Reanimation Through Lightning (FFoRTL for short), but when it comes to vampires – as well as zombies, which is why the issue of blood still pumping through the reanimated bodies of deadheads is just that; an issue – their hearts do not beat. And if the heart dost not beat, thither can be nay blood pumping through their veins², as Shakespeare would, likely, have put it, had he written a play about vampires. (I wonder if Shakespeare was a believer?)

And as we all should know, even with just the most basic biological knowledge, the rush of blood to the phallus (that’s a fancy word for penis), is what causes an erection and since a vampire, who has not recently fed, should be lacking in blood, this phenomena should not be possible. Ergo, the reason behind the madness of my mind has been disclosed.

And here I was thinking I’d have to write at least a medium lenght paper to make my point!

2) Pondering how much studying is involved in getting an online ordination. Would it require me to read the whole of the Bible? New and Old Testament? Would there be a final exam? Pop quizzes? Would I have to convert to Catholicism? I don’t have anything against Catholicism, per se, especially not with the new pope (Pope with a capital P?), but I sort of have my own religion that I adhere to, I just like the idea of having all of my bases covered.
Would I be allowed to absolve my own sins? I mean, I would, but would it count? Like, would the Chief Upstairs accept my own absolvements?

3) I bet early man kind was really into practical jokes.
Ok, so this one’s more of a joke, but I can’t stop giggling to myself about it. Though, it’s not funny if you have to explain and political correctness is the vampire of fun.

Watch it, love it, get addicted!

Speaking of “discovering things” (mentioned in my last post, about being diagnosed with RRMS): a little while ago, I was poking around IMDb in search of zombie related stuff to watch now that The Walking Dead has gone on to its Summer hiatus – or, as it has become known as via Supernatural‘s ditto; Hellatus – and found something… Well, very different. The only common denominator is that both shows features zombies. And are shows…
Again, very different zombies.

The show I’m referring to is called iZombie and centers around Liv, whom, due to unforeseeable events, was turned into a zombie while on a party boat. I know, bummer, right? You go to a party on a boat and there’s an outbreak of zombiism. Who’d’ve thought it?

Liv, portrayed by the pale beauty Rose McIver, does what any self-conscious-with-a-conscience-zombie-with-a-medical-degree would do, and gets herself a job at the morgue.
(It’s an all-you-can-eat-buffet, isn’t it? I mean, if you’re, literally, into brainfood. I don’t care if you think that was an inappropriate pun, it was a good one.) 

Anyway, the show’s hilarious! And I honestly never thought I’d hear myself say so with such elation! I mean, I have issues with zombies with minimal thinking capacity (which is one of several reasons why I utterly loathe Land of the Dead), and the so called neo-zombies of 28 Days Later (I’m not even sure that they’re ever referred to as “zombies”, because I’ve never been able to make it through the entire movie – almost, but not quite). Technically, I’m not even a fan of zombies who bleed – since they shouldn’t be able to, since they’re dead, meaning no heartbeat, meaning no blood circulation, meaning no blood splatter. This I have come to accept because it is a MAJOR effect and is used wisely in The Walking Dead.

But iZombie succeeds where others have failed (not counting Dead Snow, because I actually like both it and its sequel), especially since I think it brings something entirely new to the table full of pureed neural tissue.
Being a zombie, Liv does have to eat braaaaaains (her vocabulary does consists of more than “braaaaaaains” and different moan-noises), and here’s part of what makes the show special; when eating a brain, Liv “takes on” personality traits of the victim (remember that I said that she works in a morgue!); some… “better” than others.

So, in conclusion: watch it, love it, get addicted!

Yikes!

It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

Umm. Stuff’s happened. Things were discovered (sadly, no map leading to a secret treasure, though I’m still hoping). Dices were rolled. Chances taken.
Well, no. Not really. While chances were technically involved, none were taken, per se.

Last week, Thursday, I was diagnosed with (the mildest) form of MS. That’s Multiple Sclerosis, for the non-initiated, which up until a few years ago, included me. Then I happend across a novel (I kid you not when I say that I searched for the title for at least 15 minutes; remembering full well bits and pieces of the story, but not the author’s name nor the novel’s title – it’s about a woman, I think her name was Maggie, who had a cheating husband – side note – who used to swim several laps every morning (Maggie, not the husband), until she suddenly started fumbling with her keys, started laughing uncontrollably whilst visting/spying on her husband who was in the middle of a final plea in the courtroom; was diagnoses and rapidly got worse, until her mother made good on her promise to not let her daughter become a burden on the rest of the family – sheesh, Google, was that not detailed enough for you?!)

Anyway, by mildest I mean the type called RRMS (relapsing-remitting MS), meaning that I’ll get so called relapses which will, after some amount of time, revert (remit).
Most likely I’ve had it for years, without the diagnosis. That’s today’s medical care for ya. Not that it actually matters in my case, since I haven’t been permanently… damaged? Affected? I’ve got no permanent impairment, and I realize that I am indeed very lucky to not have it worse, and to have such a supportive family as I do (I owe you a larger debt than I’ll ever be able to repay).
My heart goes out to those suffering from the worse types of MS.

As for me, I’ll be put on anti-retroviral medication.
And I have a pretty neat nurse – his explanation of MS was that somehow my “DNA got some information backwards”.

(I do that ↑ a lot anyways.)