::MY RED PEN IS TREMBLING WITH LUST::

Every Christmas evening, my family goes to a movie. This year's pick was Paycheck, because it was the only new movie showing after we all woke up from our naps but before prices kicked into non-matinee gear. It was a disappointing movie.

One of my major problems with it: A headline from a newspaper in the future misspells "its" as "it's." I literally screamed when I saw it. Is this the spelling of the years ahead?

(And thanks to Cup of Chicha for that lovely "I-need-to-edit-something" title.)

 
::MAD PROPS TO Q, YO::

My brother was the hit of Christmas this year. He made obscene cookies and "adult" egg nog on New Year's Eve, and he followed in my gift-wrap footsteps, lusciously wrapping our gifts in kooky themed paper and patterns.

Atop the copy of 28 Days Later on DVD he gave me, he placed a Todd McFarlane zombie (with spilling intestines and a hole through its head) on a rotating display stand. Very gross, but very cool.

For decor on the box which held a copy of a translation of The Ring, he constructed a book out of assorted wrapping papers. A propos, definitely.

There was no special decoration on the wrapped Bailey's Irish Cream gift set, but I forgive him for that.

 
::GRODY!::

Recently, in a fast-food restaurant bathroom, I noticed that their toilet paper brand of choice was "First Mark." That's a very poor name, considering its intended use.

 
::EXCUSE ME WHILE I FAINT::

I just found out that my ex-boyfriend (of 1.3 years ago) is married. That's somewhat uncomfortable to hear. But not nearly as uncomfortable as the fact that he has a seventeen-year-old stepdaughter.

Allowing for a teen-mom scenario, that makes his wife at least 34. Holy shit!

Bullet dodged, I say.

 
::ADVENTURES IN GIFTWRAPPING::

Notes from an evening spent cross-legged on the floor, preemptively concealing packaging from prying eyes:

The geometry of wrap-igami is meditative and relaxing for me.

Bakery cake-boxes are a bitch to construct without a stapler or something. Tape doesn't cut it. (Heh, a strangely redundant sentence, that last one...)

They make paper so thin now, I thought for a second, "Am I wrapping with ultra-malleable metal?"

There are few pleasures greater than scissor-slicing a sheet of wrapping paper from its roll in one long, luscious sweep.

 
::AH, THE HUMANITY::

On the way home this weekend for the Wall of Family Reunion Conjunction (I had three in the span of 36 hours), I noticed at one point that every vehicle around me was packed with people and presents. Each vehicular family, on its way to other places for the holidays, made me feel glad -- glad for my family, glad for their families, and glad for humanity's covalence.

 
::WINTER NEVER-LAND::

Found a new, fun blog called This Afternoon in Drama. One entry spoke to me, because it reminds me of my life and my mom's tragic misunderstanding of the lyrics in "Palisades Park."

Ah, how not hearing things (or hearing different things) provides deliciously epiphanic moments: Link.

 
::ROCKIN' SHAM::

Down the street from me, there's a Shamrock gas station. Not a Diamond Shamrock. Just a Shamrock.

 
::RETURN OF THE KING::

Wow. I don't think I've ever shed tears due to sheer visual delight before. Run, do not walk, to your nearest movie-plex.

 
:: ...SO LET'S HAVE BEANS FOR EVERY MEAL!::

There's a commercially available seat cushion designed to absorb and neutralize fart gas. I don't know which is more disturbing -- that this product exists, or that its ad copy refers to the target market as "end users." Link.

 
::BY ITS COVER::

While at Barnes & Noble tonight, I spied a book I really wanted to buy, but a) I didn't know anyone interested in the Tower of Pisa's history, and b) I couldn't justify picking it up for myself. It's called Tilt, and it's bound as a parallelogram. As in, when one opens it, it's a chevron. (Yes, I know -- most books, as rectangles, are technically parallelograms, but this is one does not have sides perpendicular to its base. So there.) Wow. Link.

 
::PRETTY PLEASE::

The other night, the roof of my car glittered with thousands of spiky ice-crystals; they sparkled like confectioner's sugar, strangely smooth in the pale streetlight.

 
::DIFFERENT AND BRILLIANT::

I've long been a member of the Crayola School of Color Names. I argued with someone about what color "chartreuse" was based on how Binney & Smith (no relation, damn it!) defined it.

When I got a box of crayons, I always had to remove them from the box, put them in "rainbow order," and slide them back in.

Crayola, I found today, has a Crayon Chronology on their website. Thecolor "cerulean" was made an Official Crayola Color in 1990. I am hence a-glee. Link.

 
::BOOGITY BOOGITY BOOGITY SHOO::

I don't give a crap who put the bop in the bop-shoo-wop-shoo-wop, the ram in the ram-a-lam-a-ding-dong, or the dip in the dip-da-dip-da-dip.

I want to know who thought of the product name "In-Sink-Erator." I'd like to shake his hand.

 
::A DISCONNECT::

In the wee hours yesterday, strong wind knocked green neon off the Bank of America building downtown. Apparently, they have to (or have decided to) turn off the neon at that height all the way around the building. On my way home last night, I see parallel spokes of green rising up from the ground, a gap, then their extrapolated ends rising to their normal place.

It looked like the top two thirds of the building were hovering 50 feet above its base.

 
::CHECK IT OUT::

This makes me very aware of how long it's been since I've set foot in a library.

Have you ever wondered if the library were like Amazon.com? Wonder no longer: Link.

(via The Shifted Librarian)

 
::VERTIGO, INDEED:

I've never gotten dizzy watching a Flash production. Until now. Play around, and you'll fall into the images as I did: Link.

(via BoingBoing)

 
::RANDOM QUOTE::

Drilling for oil is boring.

(via Slashdot)

 
::GOODBYE AND GODSPEED, UNCLE SUE::

My full eyes dipped down for the prayer, and I watched as brilliant sunlight bent through a swelling tear. A glowing ring appeared before the drop broke from my eye, and it fell, gleaming like diamond, onto the black wool of my coat, where it shattered into dozens of pixel-shine droplets -- like a firework into the ground instead of the sky.

 
::COURTESY OF SOME RANDOM GUY::

I admit I'm very late to jump aboard the Trout Fishing in America boat, as it were, but the lyrics to "Breakfast Blues" are simply masterful: Link.

And, because I can never resist the temptation to pun back, I have my own little ditty-bit to add:

You've got me suffering pancake attacks, oh baby,
Cereal packed up to leave.
I'm a hudred-percent bran new man, girl,
Skillet's hard to let you go...

 
::MOSHI MOSHI!::

In this fantastically clever series of articles (via MemeMachineGo!), a journalist for Salon chronicles Japan on One Cliche a Day. A sample of musings: tentacle porn, being on time, and, my favo(u)rite, the capsule hotel.

Add another item to my short but deeply felt "Things I Want to Do Before I Die" list. Along with seeing aurora borealis in person, I want to spend a night in the cozy, tubular glee of a capsule hotel room.

 
:: ...AND HILARITY ENSUES::

Heh. If my blog was a character in a crappy screenplay, here's what would happen. I love Iridescesent.blogspot.com's last line.

 
::I AM OFFICIALLY "URBAN"::

Yesterday I recieved a postcard in the mail. It featured a friendly message, some dates and numbers, and a mug shot. A dangerous sex offender had moved into a house down the street from me. The whites of his eyes are glaringly bright, and his shock of blonde hair does nothing but accentuate this.

 
::SNAPSHOTS OF AN UNEXPECTED NIGHT::

An hour of giddy planning -- no, talking -- in 40-degree weather.
The joy of the roll-the-marble-into-the-hole-in-the-table game (and subsequent crawling under said table to retrieve dropped said marbles).
An excited invitation.
A cockroach being licked by flames in a fireplace.
The exaltant sound of Smashmouth on the 3:30am drive home.
Unfortunately spilled coffee.
The very eclectic mix of music played at the Londoner.
A basketball goal without a hoop.
The impossible explanations of favourite things.
And a very comfortable gaze.