Ok, the two truths and a lie thing.
I did act in a low budget horror movie when I was sixteen. The movie was called The Butcher and my character was stabbed repeatedly in the head. In fact, I found the hideous orange wig my character (Debbie Dumaflachee) wore (so that it could be placed over my stunt double, a wedge of head-shaped Styrofoam) hiding in my linen closet when I cleaned it out a few weeks ago. I also sang a beer theme song for part of the movie. I actually wrote the theme song too, but the tune was Rubber Ducky You’re The One, because while I might be talented in using words to give life to uteri and Bad Bar vignettes, I am no Ernie and Bert. And no, I never wrote an entry about it, mostly because it just hasn’t occurred to me to write about it, but I did mention it deep within this entry. Most of you said this was the lie for some reason.
You want to know the best thing about that movie? I wore a bleach splotched jean jacket through the entire thing. Quelle 1986! I think I had slouch socks too. Unfortunately, I only know of one person (Bob, the director) who has copies of the masterpiece that was The Butcher and last time I asked, he wouldn’t give out any copies. Otherwise I would so digitize that and put it on the internet. It is so spectacularly bad that it would make you pee your pants. Really.
Also, there really was a human skeleton buried in my great grandparent’s neighbor’s back yard. One spring, I saw something sticking up out of the ground and warned the neighbor about the sharp stick. Later, when he went out to mow his lawn, he tried to pull out the stick but it didn’t come out. He dug it out and discovered that it was a broken human femur. He called the police, who determined it was far too old to have been a murder victim. Later, anthropologists from the state capital came up and investigated the remains and determined that they were only about four or five hundred years old and thus not historically ‘relevant’. They took a bunch of measurements of the yards on that end of the block and theorized that it was most likely a Native American burial mound, one of many that dot the area. It did end up being an important find, however, in that the beads found with the skeleton showed that the tribe (the name of which I’ve since forgotten) was in the area much earlier than had been estimated. So that was true. And I never dug in my grandmother’s garden from that point on.
Which leaves us to the Seventeen article. Which was false. It was Sassy magazine, as someone correctly answered on the comments section. And I was 18. The most convincing lies are the ones that are the closest to the truth. Only 19% of my coworkers got mine right. Someone else in the department is apparently a better liar than I am. They are at 15%.
And since I’m tying up loose ends, WilliamTells has upgraded to Supergold. Which makes me very happy indeed.
Perhaps I should run a pledge drive in which everyone buys me a Lincoln. Or sends me to Journalcon.
Speaking of which, I bought my ticket to Austin the other day’. Oh, holy hell, the cat just farted and then had the audacity to look up at me. Like I did it. Somedays I think she’s really a dog in a cat suit.
You know, Esteban never believes that she blows ass. Never. I don’t know why. I’ve pointed out that she has a rectum and he understands how the mammalian digestive system works, but he just cannot comprehend the Tilly having gas. But then, sometimes he’s incredibly dense about such issues. For the first two years we dated, I had him utterly convinced that girls didn’t fart and only needed to excrete once a month. He asked how that worked and I told him ‘We eat mostly fruits and vegetables, which just gets converted to pee and that’s why we have to pee so much. But when we poop, it’s a big ordeal, and that’s why we go to the bathroom in groups sometimes.’ And he nodded and said ‘Oh!’ as if every mystery in the world had finally been solved in his head.
He’ll deny that if you ask him about it. And then bring up the fact that I didn’t know where the marks on toilet seats came from.
But back to Austin’ yeah’ bought the ticket. Yep. That’s pretty much it right there.
This is the part where I add in a little commercial for JournalCon/Web Writer’s Weekend, but let’s just give a little cheer and be done with it, shall we? Ok.
JournalCon! Woot!!
Good show. Let’s move on.
I’m back on the no sugar/flour thing, after falling hard off the carbless wagon over the weekend. I made New York Strips and chicken breasts on the grill on Monday night so that I’d have a huge stock of protein through the week. I have to say that it was the best steak I have ever made. I highly recommend Chicago Steak Seasoning from The Spice House, because it makes anything beefy taste incredible, particularly burgers and steaks. (If you’re going to order the stuff, also get some Fox Point Seasoning aka Lake Shore Drive Seasoning for fish and veggies, because that sprinkled on broiled salmon is just about as close as you can get to heaven). I also made brown rice and fresh steamed peas for myself, since Esteban worked until 3 am in the morning. He’s having an insane race to finish an article on time, because he lost two weeks when Tom and Gen died. This makes him a real treasure around the house because he’s so prickly and grouchy that I can barely believe it. He actually blamed me for leaving the garage door open last night and when I pointed out that he was the last one outside and in the garage when he took out the garbage (yes! I had to bribe him with a big kiss, but he did it. Actually, he took out the one half-full garbage bag in the kitchen and then when I came home, I was like ‘Dude’ garbage?’ and he was confused. Confused! I had to explain to him that when I said ‘take the garbage out’ I meant that it should go out to the curb, as it was garbage day. Which was a surprise to him because we’ve lived here for seven years and he still can’t remember the garbage day. And then he was like ‘ooooh’. So the other bags in the garage too?’ Yesssss sweetie. I suspect that it’s been so long since he’s dealt with the garbage that he actually has forgotten the procedure.) and then he further pursued that it was my fault because I opened the garage door ORIGINALLY. Oh. Ok.
He has left for a business trip to Syracuse and he swears to me that he’ll stop being all Inspector Asshole when he returns, because he will take some time off and try to recenter. I had to take him to the airport this morning while it was still dark and I’m too tired to celebrate my empty house. Actually, I’ll spend the next three days trying to pick up the fallout of his last evening here (seriously’ Tasmanian Devil? Meet my husband, the clutter tornado).
I did feel bad in that I didn’t return his lucky traveling dog tags. He loaned them to me when I went to San Francisco (and was certain I was going to die) but they are still in my laptop bag, which is at work. I offered him my new traveling rune (which I purchased at the Ren Faire, to replace my lost one’ it’s not as good though), but he wasn’t interested. And now he’ll die in a fiery plane crash and I’ll feel bad because my last entry before his death, I was talking about how big an ass he was and that he doesn’t take out the garbage. How do I know this? I think I just heard my Greek chorus admonishing me for being a bitch.
People who play Fantasy Football’ I need your advice. Should I protect Peyton Manning for my roster this year? I have to have it in by Saturday, the draft is Sunday, and I’m not sure who I should protect and I haven’t had time to research it. Here’s my team from last year:
Congested Hedgehogs
QB Manning (IND), Stewart (PIT)
WR Holt (St L), Moulds BUF),Conway (SD),Price (BUF),Robinson (SEA)
RB Williams (MIA),&AAk-Pittman (TB)
TE Sharpe (DEN), Conwell (St L)
PK Vanderjagt (IND), Edinger (CHI)
DF Chicago BEARS, Cincinnati BENGALS
Advice welcome in the comments section!
