Its the End of the World!!

Well, at least in Chester's Mills - the fictional town trapped in a "bubble" of sorts in the latest work from Mr. Stephen King.
Being obsessed with Post-Apocalyptic Society, I gravitate towards stories of "what-ifs?" and the dangers of the collapse of the known world, and all of its repercussions. Call me a nihilist, but in my heart of hearts, I believe we're going out one of five ways:
1) Mass Pandemic. An unknown, highly contagious and lethal disease ( a la Captain Trips in "The Stand"). When I first read it, the idea seemed pretty far fetched. Didn't we conquer Smallpox? The Black Plague? But since then, we've had both the Avian and Swine Flu reduce the public to a frightened mass of germaphobes.
2) Nuclear War. Trigger happy politicians with too much power and not a fraction of the sense to use it. Sure, I'd like to believe that as a highly evolved and global society, we have the common sense not to set off a nuclear warhead. But I'd also like to believe that people are generally good, and we all know that's a load of horseshit. Good ol' Dubya and his "Weapons of Mass Destruction" put that bone chilling fear in all of us that The End was imminent unless the U.S. of A. did something about it. Israel. Russia. North Korea. Al Quaida. Since Hiroshima, we've had a hair trigger cocked and ready to fire.
3) Robot Overlords. Yeah, I'm talking Terminator. And before you laugh and dismiss the idea as science fiction, consider the strides that have been made in technology in the last decade alone. Flat screen Plasma and High Definition television - coming soon to 3D for home theater systems, iPhones and Terabyte hard drives, increasingly intuitive processors - each new and improved feat of technology rendering its predecessor obsolete. AI is not only possible, but probable.
4) The Zombie Apocalypse. OK, perhaps not the George Romero decayed corpse version, but a hybrid of #s 1 & 2 - More akin to 28 Days Later, or Resident Evil. Mankind tinkering too much in genetics and biochemical warfare - a realm we don't fully understand, but fuck-all to the consequences - we're happier than a pig in shit that we've managed to clone a living, breathing, warm blooded animal. Ain't we special?
5) Epic Galactic Destruction. You know. Meteor the size of Pluto plummeting right for us, shift in the Earth's axis, the end of the Mayan Calender, and let's not forget Alien Invasion. No "We Come In Peace" - no we're here to rape and pillage, and drain all of the planet's resources. Or, we're going to vaporize the whole damned thing. (Make sure you have your towel, boys and girls.)

I know you're all bursting with optimism after that rant, and perhaps I'm a *little* out of my mind to suggest such a lurid fate for humanity - after all, this is Real Life, not some big budget summer blockbuster with all the bells and whistles, and a disproportionately handsome guy or gal to save the day. But in my opinion, its not all bad... and at least in those circumstances, there's a Big Bad to blame.

What I find captivating about "Under The Dome" is the subtlety. This book is a behemoth, weighing in at close to 5lbs and over 1,000 pages in hardcover. And yet, after only two days, I'm well past the halfway mark. The story is enthralling, the characters fully fleshed out, and the writing engaging and satisfying. I've no delusions that Mr. King will win a Pulitzer Prize for this, his most recent work, but I appreciate the dexterity in his story telling, woven with a study of morality and small town mentality that would make even Mr. George Orwell proud.

Entertained, I hardly noticed how rapidly those old rusty gears in brain were gaining momentum, and I've found myself frequently pondering our society, our politics, our declining grace and morality. The futuristic farce of Huxley's "Brave New World" isn't quite so funny anymore. Are we that far at all from the numb, medicated and over sexed masses? Is Orwell's Big Brother watching? Squelching the truth and freedom with the Thought Police?

We're so hardwired to the media, so ready to soak up any outrage or scandal, we perpetuate it. Reduced to the common denominator, no more than drones waiting to receive the next instruction on who or what to be. Don't believe me? Riddle me this: Why is a total douchebag like Glenn Beck so popular? Why, in times of peril, do we latch onto some half-cocked egomaniac? Does "Adolf" ring a bell?

Rhetorical questions, I know, I know. ::mentally chastises herself:: But the real question that scares me, the one that defines all of us - What are we, human beings, capable of?

Of course, I hope to never find out. But a big part of me knows that someday I will.

And just in case, I'll be ready. (Having a bit of a Sarah Connor complex, I foresee my son growing into a free-thinking, fair minded leader. A little self-defense couldn't hurt either...) I don't plan on building a fallout shelter anytime soon, and damned if I know if there's a generator attached to the house. But no worries, dear readers! When it comes to the End of Days, I think I've got survival-ism in the bag.

I got my Boomstick right here, baby.

***NOTE: Sorry for missing "SuperNerd Saturday" - I hardly realized it was Saturday at all! Well, technically speaking, I suppose its Sunday... anywho, will suss it all out tomorrow, after several cups of coffee. Cheers!***

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Listening to: Muse - Apocalypse Please
via FoxyTunes

Rainy Days and Mondays

The Epic Flood continues, and the short lived sunshine of last week seems like a distant memory. Stir-crazy, I find myself pondering Noah and wondering if there's enough scrap in the basement to build at least a canoe. The baleful glare of the offensive bedroom carpet and hideous kitchen floor taunt and torture me... and this domestic goddess lackey sighs in resignation, inactivity and the internets enveloping any degree of productivity.

No, wait, I rescind that statement; dishes are done (*gasp*!) and Boiled Dinner is, well, boiling, and there aren't too many sticky spots on the floor. All in all, not too bad... considering.

I wonder how anything is accomplished with any sense of industry with the advent of the digital age? Why cook/clean/tend/mend when there are viral videos, Facebook updates and torrenting to do and see? Not to mention video gaming, musics (apparently, I'm a new fan of The Faint), and good ol' fashioned television to dull the senses and capture/conquer the mind... and if there's nothing good on the telley, why fire up your favorite program on DVD!

A week after the infamous Tooth Debacle, I'm still uncomfortable and irritable. Thank goodness for the ever patient and understanding Mr. Anti-Stepford... and Captain Jack Harkness to make me smile tonight ;-)

Screw industry.


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Listening to: Sunny Day Real Estate - Song About an Angel
via FoxyTunes

Staggering Odds and Oddity

"Do you hear that, Neo? That is the sound of inevitability."

And much like the thundering subway train in that climactic scene from The Matrix, the universe in all of its infinite wisdom hit me like a ton of bricks last night. The statistical probability is staggeringly unlikely...

After another fun-filled night working at the Guru Room, your plucky heroine ventured with Bestie and her BF to an impromptu soiree, where I knew nary a soul. Fine by me, I enjoy meeting new people, and wasn't disappointed in the wonderful company that I found. Fellow nerds, unite! Great conversation, great laughs, and reminiscing with my first boyfriend.

Wait, what?

No, really. I had (and have) a hard time wrapping my brain around this one myself. And I'm not talking first crush, first date, or anything normal like that. I'm talking shared a hospital room at birth, and our mothers thought it would be chummy to have us be playmates, and jokingly refer to us as an "item".

I have only vague recollections of said boyfriend. What stands out as remarkably clear are only his name and place of birth. It didn't occur to me in the slightest on introductions that I may know this fellow, and merrily continued on my way to obliteration and debauchery with the rest of the partygoers.

A short time later, while in heated discussion over music, movies, and god-knows-what else, re-introductions were made (as we all know, most of the time names fly in and out of our ears at such gatherings. its the human condition) Said Boyfriend looked at me quizzically, and asked about my birthday, and did I know a so and so, and did my mother and their mother often comment at what a cute couple they were?


Jaw hanging, the pieces clicked into place. At least 24 years have passed since last I saw this person. But the memory is an integral part of my childhood - and the unlikelihood that I would meet him, now, (and get along famously) is astounding. I only happened to be at this party last minute on invitation from Besties Boyfriend, and would certainly not have crossed paths otherwise.


What whimsy the universe has. The random acts and events in our lives align themselves in the most peculiar ways. If I were the religious type, I'd chalk it up to a higher power. But since that doesn't hold any water for me, I'll take the arkhams razor approach. The simplest explanation is the best.


It was a glitch in the Matrix.


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Listening to: Depeche Mode - It's Called A Heart
via FoxyTunes

Super Nerd Saturday

Not that I really need any help in the geek department, but I've decided to devote Saturdays to uber nerd discussions - all the warm and fuzzy techie-videogame-scifi-nerdom that makes me a happy happy gal. I even began with a trip down memory lane, dusting off my Photoshop skills to create this nifty badge for those in the Blogosphere who might like to try their hand at this, too.


And where to begin? Well, for starters, whet your appetite on this little gem, purloined from the fabulous Ms. Wadleigh



squeeeeeee! heart Boba Fett. Fer Real.

OK, moving on, in Music nerd-dom, I nearly had a heart attack last night when I learned that one of my favorite bands, the long separated Sunny Day Real Estate, were working together on a new album. Squishy Squeeeeeee... for those of you who know Sunny Day, I hope you're as thrilled to itty-bitty pieces as I am =) For those who don't, look them up. They are the epitome of melodic grunge - a true highlight of the '90's Seattle music scene. Did I mention, SQUEE-HEEEEEEE? Good.

And for those of us who just love our Mythril and Moogles, Final Fantasy released their thirteenth title this week, and I'm salivating to get my hands on it. I foresee longer naps for the youngling and many late nights in my near future... Oh the joys of a new RPG (especially a SquareEnix release!) and the all encompassing and life sucking adventure it takes you on! I thoroughly enjoyed playing FFXII while the youngling was an infant (plenty of free time then - ah, the good ol' days!) and have particularly fond memories of many late nights and culinary creations whilst playing FFIX and FFX. The story, the epic graphics, the gameplay... I could go on and on... however I'll save the babble for a decent review once I've gotten a good taste of what FFXIII has to offer. Stay tuned, boys and girls, and don't touch that dial! Kupo!

So, Dear Readers, please tell me, what would you like to see for Super Nerd Saturdays? If its me in a Storm Trooper Costume, done and done. (Courtesy of Photoshop... for now)

Global. Thermal. Nuclear. War.

Well, something more or less like it. Let's review, shall we?

After a happy Trip to the Dentist, five days later, I'm still in uncomfortable agony as my stubborn mouth continues to plague and torment me. Heal already, dammit! I spent much of yesterday cozied in bed with my favorite serial killer, Dexter, and anxiously watching my supply of meds dwindle. This morning found me sans relief, and cursing all that is holy in the realm of dentistry.

But, Anti-Stepford must trudge on, and so I ventured from my little cocoon of self-pity to take stock of the household and formulate a plan of attack for the day. Dishes overflowed the sink, laundry littered the hall, and Cheerios crunched happily between my toes as I wandered from room to room.

Now, as we all well know, I am by NO means Suzy Homemaker, and prefer my "wing-it" style of housekeeping over the apron-clad, plasticene smile that could be my alternative. (::shudders::) Sure, I let the dishes pile up, am guilty of not folding the laundry, and have a three year old tornado to keep the floor well saturated in Goldfish and Play-dough. But after a weary week battling the evil forces of teeth extraction, I hoped that somehow there would be a shining-ly clean kitchen and freshly vacuumed floor greeting me. Delusional, I know. I'll blame that on the drugs.

Well, C'est La Vie... looks like its back to the same ol' same ol', and short of taking a bomb to the place, it looks like my afternoon will include a hot date with Mr. Clean. Its ok, he's pretty sexy in my book. (No offense, darling)

At the very least, my dulcid darling son would brighten my morning, laughing and playing and being his positively adorable self. Right? RIGHT?

ahhahahahah - joke's on me =) We've officially had our first public temper tantrum. "But MOMMMY! I WANT A BAALLLOOOOON!!! ::hiccup, hiccup:: - since such tactics have rarely worked on me, even when the soggy tears are shed from a carbon copy of my own eyes, we hastily made our exit from the supermarket, wails trailing into the cloudy afternoon. But I wonder, why is it that EVERY goddamned witness to such a meltdown feels the need to intervene? "Hey Tiger!" said one geriatric do-gooder, "Whassamattah??" Smile firmly affixed to my aching face, I replied "He's ok, just a little overtired, and not getting a balloon" Oh how vile and evil I am. What a terrible mother. At least that's the look that was imparted me as we left. It occurred to me that perhaps my vibrantly bleached and dyed hair, and tattoos, invoke a stereotype of careless teenage-mom. Well, maybe not... I haven't looked like a teenager in quite some time. I'm curious to know if any other "alterna-moms" experience the same sort of cursory judgment... hmm...

So now, while the wee one disobeys me with particular enthusiasm, I can almost hear the crusted roast pan wail from the kitchen "Cleeeeeeean Meeeeeeeeeeeeeee"

Today is a day to go postal, it would seem. Or at least, play a game. Say, Global Thermal Nuclear War?




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Listening to: Tricky - Hell Is Around The Corner
via FoxyTunes

I'm on drugs!

The roller coaster of my adult life never ceases to amuse me.

After a FANTASTIC time at the Muse concert this past weekend, my attentions turned to more vital (and painful) subjects; namely, my teeth, and all of their decaying glory.

Ew. Gross. Ick. Blech. Yeah, tell me about it. Enduring chronic back pain for the past few years (thanks Sciatica, you're a real pal!) and having a handful of teeth already extracted, a little toothache should be no biggie. But I've found that there is nothing quite like the stinging, shooting pain of an exposed nerve in the tender cavity of your mouth to reduce even the most gallant and brave to dithering idiots.

Idiot supremo (that's me) found that not one, not two, but THREE teeth needed to be extracted post-haste. Which brings me to today's gorgeous sunny day and gauze, blood, and sweet sweet Vicodin.

I have to give it to the Oral Surgeon - he was a trooper, jimmying that stubborn molar with a zest and vigor that belied his age. I've had difficult extractions before, so it was no surprise to me when I found myself pressed cheek down to the sticky vinyl chair, staring wearily and frightened into the bright fluorescents. It may be small consolation that I think I bled on his pressed grey pants. Aren't I wicked?

The redeeming part of the ordeal was the uber cool assistant, with his greyed ponytail and genuine smile. He looked more the part of Biker Dude than Dental Assistant, and while the Novacaine was working its magic, asked me if I'd done anything cool this weekend. Why yes, yes I did... and so ensued a brief but soothing conversation about some pretty kickass bands.

20 minutes later, sans teeth, I was back in the sunshine, drooling piteously on myself through thick wads of gauze. Mercifully, the pharmacist took a good look at me, and skipped the verbal confirmation of my identity. Pretty clear by the crusted blood and dazed gleam in my eye that this was no time for idle chit chat.

And now, home. The drugs have stopped my face from pounding, and I've been pretty productive considering. Dinner is a-cookin, laundry is a-folded, and all is right in the world.

Or, it could just be the drugs.

And I almost forgot!

Said fantastic hubby also won a sales contest at work last week... and guess who reaps the benefits?

If it is at all possible to be in love with a machine, I am. My shiny new itouch makes me giddy everytime I lay my grubby hands on it, the tech-nerd that dwells in the basement of my soul moans in appreciation... or is that my fever?

Either way, I can blog virtually anywhere now.

Consider yourself fairly warned, mwahaha

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Muse and Vomit (not in that order)

ah, life.

as I am wont to do, my erratic brain has lead me elsewhere these past few weeks *cough* months, and my poor blog has been largely neglected.

I'll take my spanking now, thankyouverymuch.

Sufficiently chastised? Good. Moving on...

I find myself antsy at this late hour. Perhaps its the odd sleep patterns? Late night television? (I am addicted to BBC America of late... have you seen The Inbetweeners?!?). No? Ahhh... the wrenching stomach bug and copious amounts of Gatorade I've been consuming. Yeah, that might be it.

So, sick and grumbly, I appeal to you, dear readers, as a welcome diversion from the icky nauseated mess I am. Considerate, aren't I?

Vomit aside, I can safely say its been an interesting few weeks months. I got a new job (huzzah!) at a swank Indian restaurant in downtown Plymouth. Yup, you're looking at the newest shot girl for The Guru Room courtesy of HollywoodEast Promotions. Dashing fellows they are, and the music is fantastic. I think my cool factor has gone up a notch or two by osmosis. Well. Maybe.

In other news, I was recently the victim of an online scam/false modeling shoot. Receiving a check for $3500 was briefly exciting, and then devastating once I received instructions to Western Union the balance to LA. HA! I may be naive and a tad too optimistic, but reaaaally? The worst part was realizing this *wasn't* my big break into modeling, and my humdrum life would have to (continue) to suffice.

well, actually, its not all that bad...

My fantastic hubby in his infinite wisdom (or quest for the nookie) has gotten me tickets to see Muse in Boston on March 6th!

that being... wait... TODAY!

as effervescently bubbling as I am about this (oh Matt Bellamy, please sweat on me...) there is the downside of flu-like symptoms that I have yet to shake.

but, plague-ridden or not, come hell or high water, I will scream my guts out with the masses, and revel in the awesome epic glory.

I feel bad for the folks in front of me, both for my madness and the possible vomit that will come with it.



See, didn't you miss me?