New Year's Eve

Happy 2010!

The Wait is Over, Sort of.

Hey all you unrequited lovers!

Tired of going about your normal "activities" without songs that truly speak to your yearning heart?
Never fear! Your crush may not care, but these songs go out to you:

Mallory's Songs to Stalk By!

Even on those tough days when restraining orders and broken binoculars have you feeling blue, these classic and contemporary hits will keep you right where you should be:
Hidden in the bushes under your beloved's window.

This collection makes a perfect gift for the stalker in your life, or --if you're the unappreciated one-- an excellent way to share your true feelings when you get so nervous your tongue swells up.

*disclaimer: Some of these favorites were written by obviously desperate individuals, so language/content may be seen as questionable, strange, or downright creepy. Enjoy!

What "love songs" do you find creepy?

Of Puppies, The Scene Aesthetic, Theology, and Celebrity Reincarnations

There's a lot to cover, so I'll just launch right into it.

Of Puppies:

We got one. His name is Banjo.
Poor Eric- his mom pointed out- has bags under his eyes from letting this little guy out at night. (I help, but somehow I sleep through the initial squealing, which ends up driving Eric nuts before it wakes me up. )
He--the puppy in question-- is incredibly potty-trainable, but I won't go into the details because I feel that most people won't find the specifics interesting.

Of The Scene Aesthetic:
(hint: They aren't here because I love them)

Basically, they're two guys who see nothing wrong with covering Taylor Swift's Love Story. The testosterone sure is flowing with these two.
I saw them in concert last month, opening for Owl City, and everyone in our group was trying to rip their ears off by the second song.
I've granted you all a boon by not posting one of their original songs, but misery loves company, so I had to say SOMETHING about them.

Of Theology:
In seriousness, now. I used to be pretty relaxed about how people in the Christian community chose to interpret God's role in their life. I figured that the question of whether we choose God or God chooses us was chicken-and-egg and not too much of an issue. It is. God is the ultimate Being, the Creator of the Universe. If I had to pick Him in order to give Him any power over my life, we are all screwed. He has pulled me back, chastened me, and refined me all these years against my human will. And there's a lot more that is truly important. If Jesus is the Way, and the Only WAY... I hesitate to think that God wants us to blur every other line, I have been painfully convicted on the following points, lately.

• You must fear God. Our Lord is not Barney the Dinosaur-- men were struck to the ground in the presence of angels, how much more so would we be humiliated by our sinfulness, our vanity, our humanity in the presence of God Himself? It is only fitting that we live in fear of His power, and be humbled by his grace. If one more girl insists that Jesus is her boyfriend, I may explode.
• God is God over every aspect of our lives, and if we resign His influence to church on Sunday, we do not know him.
  
• God is a political God. See above.
  
• Rebuke is not hatred; it is one of the most sincere forms of love. If we do not actively wish to help better our brothers/sisters in Christ, we do them a great disservice.
• We are not saved by works, but to refuse to do work is to not love Christ enough. We should not only do good works, but do them so cheerfully that people stop and wonder about us.
  
• There is no topic on which God is silent. Even the tiny things either tend towards vanity (which tends toward Satan) or towards humility, (which tends towards Christ).
• Back again to cheerfulness: Paul says in Philippians 4:11, "...for I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content:" He was in prison! "Content" does not mean bearing hang-doggedly with whatever comes our way, in fact it probably requires us to be almost unaware of what might trouble us. What's more, we should do it smiling, because Christ has borne our sins! The average person (me especially) has no idea what it means to carry a cross, or to be locked in prison... and given that fact, we should be incredibly careful of treating day-to-day challenges as if they were crosses to bear--if we think that a bad day at work or drama with a friend counts as a cross, we're hugely underestimating Jesus' gift.

I have so much more I could rant on about, but I think I'll put it all in one post one of these days...

And, to point out how insane Hollywood is.
Celebrity Re-Incarnations:

I infinitely prefer the originals.

I've decided the New Hollywood formula is basically this:

1. Be symmetrical/beautiful (unless you're Adrian Brody)
2. Resemble someone else who made it big
   
3. Up your "now" factor by getting a few tattoos
   
4. Don't overthink. Don't think at all.

My Grandma tells me I look like Loretta Young (I don't see it, do you?), so I'm set... some agent just has to notice me.


Who's your Old Hollywood look-alike?

Adventures at Wildwood Canyon.

"Oh, this is going to be awesome!" Eric said, swerving the car back onto Oak Glen Road, and frantically scanning the ground from the windows.
"What? What??" I kept asking, failing to see what had caught his attention. Cars whizzed by, other drivers befuddled by the maneuver.
"I saw a Tarantula in the dirt over there" he turned the car around once more "...dang it. I can't find him anymore." Seemingly defeated, he motioned to turn homeward again.
I quickly weighed the possibilities and asked "Should we just get out and look for him?"
"Really?" Obviously he had been hoping for such an answer.
"Um.. yeah, sure." I said.
So, we trekked a few yards up the road, and there he was... Furry and crumpled (by his own wishes, not by the impression of a tire-track) in the middle of the right-hand lane. Eric did what any self-respecting male would do and threw some rocks at it, meanwhile searching for a stick with which to poke the little guy. I kept a safe distance, and we both jumped and backed away whenever our arachnid companion decided to mosey over in any direction.
Then Eric moved from Stage 1: Intimidation, to Stage 2: Confiscation, and we ran back to the car for "some tupperware" which Eric says every car should have, and ours-apparently- doesn't, which left us rifling through the junk left over from long days at work and trips for fast food. I had thrown away my Starbucks cups the night before, so we settled for a plastic bag. The bag actually turned out to be a good choice, since it was virtually invisible when placed, open, on the ground. Once we had tricked him into walking into our trap, we quickly panicked, realizing we had nothing to close the bag with, and spidey was pretty angry... so Eric clutched the top of this bag and we ran towards the car, again bewildering -or amusing- other motorists with the sight of a lanky fellow in 1880's clothing holding a plastic bag at arm's length and running down the road with me trotting at his heels.
Then we used my ponytail to close up the bag, and I felt sheepish for not thinking of that in the first place.

And that's why there's a Tarantula (now in tupperware) on our kitchen table.

This is NOT the Tarantula we caught, but he looks like this.

We were supposed to bring him with us to work, to show the boys and then release him in an empty field, probably near where we found him... but somehow we "forgot" him and I worry that Eric may have more intensive plans... *Dun dun Dun*

Stuck

It's a Small World.

The Mission Impossible Theme.

An acquaintance's jangling and unidentifiable ringtone.

Earworms, in addition to their obviously frustrating ability to become stuck in one's head, are all--rather uncannily-- uncool. Today, I am battling the sickeningly sweet strains of The Fox and The Hound's "Best of Friends" and it makes me feel utterly lame. Why can't I have some almost-unlikable but patently-cool indie song stuck in my head? That way, if anyone hears me humming, I'll be beyond reproach...

What's your personal love-to-hate Earworm?

No Snake Oil, Thanks

It's really too expensive.

So, the Husband and I (and my family and some friends as well, and well, pretty much everyone) were present for Rep. Adam Schiff's Obamacare Townhall in Alhambra last night. It was pretty crazy to see the event swell from a hundred or so scattered picketers to what was rumoured to be nearly 3,000 people. It was utterly insane, but a good experience.

My husband is très cool.

The Two-Month Mark

Wow. I've had a husband for two months. Wow.

A friend and I were talking earlier today, and she asked me if it felt like a long time, or if it felt like it went by quickly. I was stumped. Sometimes, due to the fact that we've settled into a routine, it seems like we've been together forever---in a good way, no major fights or even any bickering. We're pretty comfy, and tend to spend most evenings watching Smallville and attempting to tame our wild Iguana.

But then, sometimes I wake up and my knee-jerk reaction is "Where am I?" and "Who is this man?" ...and after about a .9 seconds I remember and I'm all happy and stuff.

So far we've had a couple major adventures: Like the other night when I suddenly decided that I wanted peaches, and Eric actually went out with me at ten o'clock at night to buy some; for some reason I convinced myself that someone was going to try to kill us on the way home, and proceeded to warn him anytime a car behind us got too close ("They're following us!") or remind him that we still had watch out as we walked from the driveway to the house. You never can be too careful. Another fascinating episode was the Case of the Feminist Social Security worker, who took the liberty of informing me that it was my choice to change my surname, and if I wanted to keep-or hyphenate-my maiden name, it was socially acceptable. The boy said we should go back and ask her if I can change my full name to Drazin Drazin Drazin. I opted for the normal option and retained my first name, which he afterwards concluded was the best way after all. (He likes my name).

We have also attempted to give George the Iguana a bath. That was by far the most dramatic episode of our story so far.

I don't quite remember the point of this post, but Happy Two Months, husband. I love you.