Die, chotomy!

The common thread that runs through schlock movies, roadside attractions, and slush pile quotes, and the chief reason I love them, is the "What were they thinking?" reactions they produce. I just came across this string of dichotomies in a news release, and had to wonder who it was who thought these, of all the concepts and images in the world, were the best way to illustrate their point:

With a hammer, for example, you can choose to smash windows, or build the Taj Mahal; with a word-processor you can waste your life copy-typing, or use it as a creative tool to develop writing skills; with email you can send endless and useless "How’s the Budgie?" messages, or use it to create international drama activities...

The questions ask themselves: I can build the Taj Mahal with a hammer? Hey, buddy, what if my mother is a copy-typist? What kind of international drama activities am I going to create with email, other than by accidentally sending something private to a mailing list? "How's the Budgie" messages?

And she will be reading for the part of "crazy phone lady"

[Scene: 1:30AM, my house. I am working in the loft. The phone rings.]

Me: Hello?

Her: You don't call me.

Me: What?

Her: You don't call me. Oh my God, I knew it was you. What are you doing calling me? The last two calls I got, oh my God. I'm sitting here in my fucking Victoria's Secret, and I checked, the number was 581-1067. I can't believe this. Why are you calling me?

Me: Um, who is this?

Her: What?

Me: I don't actually know who I'm talking to.

Her: Don't fucking say that.

Me: Really. Who are you?

Her: Who do you think I am? I'm your fucking neighbor.

Me: Oooookay...I don't know who that is. My name is jere7my, and I live on Lincoln Avenue in Saratoga. Am I your neighbor?

Her: [pause] Are you kidding me?

Me: Swear to God.

Her: Oh my God. I'm so—never mind. Oh God.

*click*

Mus

Our fierce jungle cat caught her first mouse last night.

She spent most of the night in the kitchen, quiet and watchful, which is unusual for her. A crash at around 4:30AM got me out of bed, and I found her on the counter, having knocked our cheese grater into the sink, gazing intently at the toaster oven. I lifted it up, a gray blur shot out, and before I could blink Gus had a mouse dangling by its hind feet from her mouth. Never has a cat looked so proud.

The mouse, cleverly enough, was playing dead. I carried them onto the porch and began trying to pry Gus's jaws open, but she was having none of it, growling low in her throat. The mouse, however, twisted around to bite her on the nose, which startled her into opening her mouth. The mouse cried "I'm free!" (in mouse-language) and promptly ran off the edge of the porch, twenty feet above the asphalt. It sailed in a graceful mousey parabola, little legs splayed, down to the parking lot; it was not actually in slow-motion, but it should have been. There was no splat; the last I saw, it was making a beeline for the trees, apparently none the worse.

Gus may never forgive me. She has been sulkily on the lookout for another mouse all day.

"We condone it."

I attended a student-run MST3K showing (MST3K: The Movie, aka This Island Earth) tonight. For a while it looked like it was just going to be me and the guy who brought the video, since the only other person to show up forced candy corn on me and then ran off to look for medieval theater. But, failing to find it, she returned, and then another student and another community-older-guy showed up, so we had enough to make movie-mocking worthwhile. I made cute geek girls laugh, which is pretty much always my goal, so I left happy. One of the students plumbed my encyclopedic MST3K knowledge to learn which episode contains the Tribute to Pants (Hercules Against the Moon Men); she may want to borrow my DVD and/or organize a showing or something. Prithee, I am helpful. :)