The hurricane is over; it’s time to head back to school. So once again, I had to say goodbye to my three baby turtles, Reptar, Goomba, and Tommy.
I’ve been a bit busy.
Last Friday I made my pilgrimage down to my esteemed place of scholarly learning, The College of William and Mary.
For those of you who don’t know, The College was founded in 1693, making it the second oldest institute of higher learning in America. Thomas Jefferson went there so Harvard can suck my theoretical dick. It was founded by a royal charter by these two hotties:
To get there from my home, I had to take I95 Southbound. This trek usually takes me about two hours. However, the police made last Saturday “Let’s Piss Of College Students Trying To Achieve Greater Knowledge” day, and decided they would use the influx of students driving down to school as an excuse to fill their ticket books. The ensuing rubber necking and traffic accidents caused I95 to be backed up. Five hours later, and I was still on the road. I was so hungry that i had to stop in Ashland for a burger on the way down.
Ashland is a small town near Richmond, best known for a documentary in which they bitched about a Wal-Mart moving into their neighborhood for two years, and then decided that the low prices were too hard to resist and proceeded to shop there all day every day afterwards.
So there I was, after five hours on the road, chowing down on my burger at a stop light. Perched on the median were a few scruffy twenty-somethings who looked burnt out, and like they hadn’t bathed in a week. They held a sign saying they were hungry and needed food, a ride, anything. They looked high as fuck but I almost felt bad enough anyways to give them one of my burgers. It was at this point that they started to point and laugh at me, and started screaming things like “YOU LOOK SEXY EATING THAT BURGER, DAYUM.”
So I did something I have never done in my life:
I stood up for myself.
I flicked them off.
And it felt awesome.
And then I drove away as fast as the dickens.
So, after around six hours and two burger patties I finally made it down to my dorm room. It’s small, because after 300 years William&Mary still doesn’t have enough housing. Harvard may have us on that one. Still, it’s cozy and a veritable den of nerdom, which I share with one of my very best friends. The walls are adorned with a map of the Star Wars galaxy, a portrait of the entire cast of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and a fake love note from Tim Riggins of Friday Night Lights. Our carpet is one of those playmats they sell for kids, with a town on it so you can drive your cars around and play with your action figures.
So I brought all of my action figures.
I love our room.
A few days after moving in, we rounded up our gaggle of friends and decided to see Conan the Barbarian. Most of my friends wanted to see it for the ‘sexy’ hunk of man meet that is Conan. I don’t really find the rugged, skull-smashing type sexy. I usually go for the skinny, bookish type. I don’t think Conan has ever seen a book, and if he had, he probably ate it and washed it down with the blood of his enemies.
So I decided that I would treat the film as a Judd Apatow-style comedy.
I would summarize the film for you, but I really can’t. All I know is this:
It started out with Conan being born, a bloody, pale fetus, very similar to that trippy scene of Voldemort in the latest Harry Potter flick.
Then, Conan was a child, who liked to take a friendly game of “beat the shit out of your friends” and turn it into a less friendly game of “spot your village’s enemies and rip their skulls off.”
Then his father is killed by a sadistic wizard warrior king and his crazy witch daughter. So years later he becomes muscular, revenge bent Conan, and the father-daughter team that fucked his life off has some creepy sexual tension that I tried to ignore but really couldn’t.
Then a girl is thrown into the mix, and Conan just basically tells her to shut her stupid whore mouth until they eventually have sex
That’s all I can really tell you. I think Conan won in the end. It’s been like four days and I don’t even remember.
Oh yeah, and it was in 3D. It was only showing in 3D. And it was the most eye-fucking, blurry 3D I have ever witnessed. Who the hell wants to see barbarian sex in 3D?
Oh, that’s right. Most people. Maybe I lack a sense of fun and whimsy. Maybe i’m growing cynical as the years slip by. Or maybe it was just a fucking terrible movie.
Anyways, the only thing more destructive than a terrible 3D movie about a guy who lists his hobby as ripping people’s heads off and displaying his pectorals for all of the barbarian world to see is a hurricane, and that is what is pounding on outside my window.
The thing is, i’m not blogging this from the comfort of my nerd-den. I’m back at home in northern Virginia, listening as my parents watch the Antiques Roadshow on PBS. The college of William and Mary evacuated due to Hurricane Irene. I had to make the trek back up I95, though this time it only took about three hours. A giant Civil War era tree just fell down inches from my house, and the change in weather has caused my sinuses to bug out.
The truth is, whether or not you’re a barbarian or a lowly college student, there is never a dull moment. Life is an adventure, full of traffic, heckling stoner hobos, terrible movies, and felled historic trees. And that’s what makes it worth living. You never know what’s going to happen next.
Here’s my latest freelance article for the Burke Patch– check it out!
George Lucas (or Oh Flanelled One, as I like to call him) has been promising Star Wars in 3D for a long time. I remember buying a set of original trilogy VHS tapes in 2002, and the store clerk talked me up about the upcoming 3D release of all of the films. Episodes II and III weren’t even out yet. I was nine. I was psyched.
But it never happened.
But now it is happening, and each Star Wars film will be released in 3D, starting with the Phantom Menace. February 10, 2012 is the big day. And today it has been announced that all 3D work on the film is complete. It’s only a matter of time until Jar Jar Binks is back on the big screen, in eye-popping RealD3D.
And I can’t wait.
I have three baby turtles. I previously blogged about my baby snapping turtle, Reptar. I also have a baby painted turtle (Tommy Pickles) and a baby Stinkpot (Goomba). Reptar is getting bigger and bigger, fatter and fatter every day. This is good for him, because he’s a growing boy, and needs to one day look like this:
This growthspurt, however, was unfortunate for Eugene, my crayfish, for Eugene sadly is no longer with us 😦
I should have known this day would come. Reptar picked off of all of Eugene’s brothers (Fitzherbert, Flynn, and Rider), along with several catfish, hundreds of glass shrimp, and the likes.
When I discovered Eugene to be missing in action, I nearly cried. Yes, I am the type of girl who cries when a crayfish (which are consumed in mass quantities daily by humans) gets eaten. I think this makes me a pansy.
But Eugene was a good crayfish. I just hope that Reptar is full for the next few days, and that Eugene is eating some worms in crayfish heaven (which I imagine is a fairly cool place to be).
I suppose this is a lesson in keeping turtles: they are hungry, and will eat whatever they can get their little beaks on. But they make up for their ferocious appetites by being adorable, fun pets. The snapper will probably live to be around sixty, and i’m proud to share my life with this magnificent reptile.
Farewell, Eugene, you shall be missed.
That is the oddest sentence I have ever formed.
But this blogger from Japan makes wicked awesome food carvings, and today she made “the man of the death star”:
I sometimes wish I had an obscure skill, like vegetable carving. But unfortunately I can barely cut my food into bite-sized slices for myself, so i’ll have to live vicariously through the work of others.
Not only for the obvious reasons, but because Donnie Darko explains the whole thing:
If you were to see the Smurfs movie, do so only to see Neil Patrick Harris being fabulous: