I do not want to be buried alive.
How bad would that suck? I just watched Buried, starring the one and only Ryan Reynolds. He plays an innocent American contractor in Iraq that has been kidnapped and buried alive in a coffin. His captors have left him with a phone, so that he can call in some ransom money.
It was one of the most stress-inducing films I have ever seen. Who would you call, if you were dying and hoping to get $5 million so you could be rescued? And who would believe you (certainly not some random 911 operator)? Even worse, someone legit answers and they put you on hold.
It was a pretty good movie, and I was literally gasping with breath as it got closer and closer to the end. As he was running out of oxygen, I felt that I was too. The ending is cruel, and expected, but only expected in a "the-director-wouldn't-really-do-that-would-he-no-way-well-maybe-not-please-don't-do-it...oh-God-he-did."
It made me frantically search my mind for that entry in my worst-case scenario survival guide that taught me how to bust myself out of a coffin. I couldn't remember the exact wording, but it was something like: "bitch, you gon' die." I might be paraphrasing.
Overall, despite some political overtones, it was a pretty good movie. The ending was really intense, and I literally gasped with breath, just like Ryan was.
I just hope I don't get Buried alive.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
super clean up
Today was a good day, even if it didn't go as planned.
All week, I have been looking forward to going to the Super Bowl party that a co-worker was hosting. Anthony and I are hosting a going away party on the 12th for Eric, a cool guy who works in the newsroom. He got a job in Baton Rouge, which is like a 100 market leap, almost, so kudos to him.
The plan was to wake up early this morning, do a lot of cleaning for the party, then go to the Super Bowl party. Somehow though -- and it's really unlike me -- I didn't roll out of bed until 2:00! I don't know how it happened. I was tired, I guess.
So after we'd showered, instead of cleaning we decided to go on a hunt for this supposedly exquisite Chinese place called "Peking". We drove around for at least half an hour, and we never found it! By this point I was starving, and instead of doing the sensible quick fast-food option, we went to Outback. It took longer and was more than I had wanted to spend, but the service was great and the food was delicious. I even have a nice chunk of steak to take to work for dinner tomorrow. Score.
So we left totally stuffed, and it was about half an hour until the party was to start. We were both bloated, and determined to clean, so we skipped the party to clean the apartment.
And if you know me, then you know the apartment is gross. Really messy. I couldn't really imagine having anyone over, but this party means a lot to Anthony. He wants to show off Spunky (our salamander) and he wants to be social. He really wants to show off his drinking skills, and has practiced by drinking a whole bottle of wine + beer all by himself twice this week. He plans on making Jell-O shots and getting mini-kegs. Great for a party that your bosses will attend, right?
But after cleaning today, and we did a major cleaning, I am very excited about the shindig. The place actually looks great and not embarrassing at all. It's decorated like a bachelor pad, no hint of femininity, which doesn't bother me.
The only thing we have left to clean is the most intimidating: the guest room. We've been using it as a storage room, so it's cramped. I plan on clearing it out, though, and putting in a beer pong table for the party.
I'm actually very excited, and am trying not to stress the cost of all the supplies we'll need to make this thing fun.
I'll let ya know how it goes, dear Reader.
All week, I have been looking forward to going to the Super Bowl party that a co-worker was hosting. Anthony and I are hosting a going away party on the 12th for Eric, a cool guy who works in the newsroom. He got a job in Baton Rouge, which is like a 100 market leap, almost, so kudos to him.
The plan was to wake up early this morning, do a lot of cleaning for the party, then go to the Super Bowl party. Somehow though -- and it's really unlike me -- I didn't roll out of bed until 2:00! I don't know how it happened. I was tired, I guess.
So after we'd showered, instead of cleaning we decided to go on a hunt for this supposedly exquisite Chinese place called "Peking". We drove around for at least half an hour, and we never found it! By this point I was starving, and instead of doing the sensible quick fast-food option, we went to Outback. It took longer and was more than I had wanted to spend, but the service was great and the food was delicious. I even have a nice chunk of steak to take to work for dinner tomorrow. Score.
So we left totally stuffed, and it was about half an hour until the party was to start. We were both bloated, and determined to clean, so we skipped the party to clean the apartment.
And if you know me, then you know the apartment is gross. Really messy. I couldn't really imagine having anyone over, but this party means a lot to Anthony. He wants to show off Spunky (our salamander) and he wants to be social. He really wants to show off his drinking skills, and has practiced by drinking a whole bottle of wine + beer all by himself twice this week. He plans on making Jell-O shots and getting mini-kegs. Great for a party that your bosses will attend, right?
But after cleaning today, and we did a major cleaning, I am very excited about the shindig. The place actually looks great and not embarrassing at all. It's decorated like a bachelor pad, no hint of femininity, which doesn't bother me.
The only thing we have left to clean is the most intimidating: the guest room. We've been using it as a storage room, so it's cramped. I plan on clearing it out, though, and putting in a beer pong table for the party.
I'm actually very excited, and am trying not to stress the cost of all the supplies we'll need to make this thing fun.
I'll let ya know how it goes, dear Reader.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
where to run?
I just finished watching the sixth season of Weeds. It was very good, but in a different way than the previous seasons. Nancy did things differently than I would have (I would've gotten my corrupt husband to help me out of the mess before fleeing, but whatever).
Anyway, the season got me thinking. If I were on the run from both the FBI and the Mexican mafia (of sorts) where would I go? The Botwins first flee to Seattle, and when that doesn't work they go to a tiny town, but because of their own dumbness it doesn't work out, so they have to keep moving.
If I were on the run would I go to someplace like NYC, where it's big enough that I could hide and blend in?
Or would I go to a tiny town in the middle of Idaho where no one would be? There'd be less cops to worry about and who would follow me? But I imagine that in little town, the sketchy cops and townsfolk are skeptical of newcomers, so they very well might do some creepy hick ritual on me, or at least arrest me for no good reason.
I'd want to run to NYC, but I think little towns would be the best place to go. I'd risk inbred hicks in order to survive. But, then again, there's something alluring about being a fugitive in the big city. I'd be a grown up Kevin McCallister, kind of.
If I ever do need to make this decision, I'll let you know what I decide. But who knows if I'd be telling the truth?
Anyway, the season got me thinking. If I were on the run from both the FBI and the Mexican mafia (of sorts) where would I go? The Botwins first flee to Seattle, and when that doesn't work they go to a tiny town, but because of their own dumbness it doesn't work out, so they have to keep moving.
If I were on the run would I go to someplace like NYC, where it's big enough that I could hide and blend in?
Or would I go to a tiny town in the middle of Idaho where no one would be? There'd be less cops to worry about and who would follow me? But I imagine that in little town, the sketchy cops and townsfolk are skeptical of newcomers, so they very well might do some creepy hick ritual on me, or at least arrest me for no good reason.
I'd want to run to NYC, but I think little towns would be the best place to go. I'd risk inbred hicks in order to survive. But, then again, there's something alluring about being a fugitive in the big city. I'd be a grown up Kevin McCallister, kind of.
If I ever do need to make this decision, I'll let you know what I decide. But who knows if I'd be telling the truth?
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