Please Tell Me If You See Any Vampires

Because apparently, according to mosquitoes everywhere, my blood tastes awesome.

And if they like me, I'm fucked if I ever meet a vampire.

Stop Clapping. Seriously.

I was watching some stand-up on Comedy Central tonight. Mike Birbiglia. He had that wit where he would tell his jokes as if he was just saying them because they were funny in his head, but he didn't really expect for people to laugh at them.

Unfortunately, the poor man couldn't even get a whole joke out before he was completely drowned out by the noise of the seals in the audience flopping their little hands together in some sort of deranged appreciation for the jokes that they couldn't hear.

Like, seriously, is that the way that you show your appreciation for somebody?

"Oh my god, he's soooo funny, I'm going to laugh at the first couple words of any joke that he starts, and even though he hasn't actually gotten to the part that is going to make it funny, I know it will be eventually, so I'm going to prematurely congratulate him by applauding over the rest of his words so that he is forced to take unnaturally long breaths in order for my applause to die down enough that everybody else in the audience can hear him."

Honestly. Is that their strategy?

Just stop clapping.

Idina Menzel Is My Hero

So, apparently promptness on posting isn't my strong suit... Who knew.

Anyway, I got to see Idina Menzel in concert with the Colorado Symphony Orchestra on Sunday, and, in a word, it was amazing.


While watching her sing, Menzel is totally lost in the music. She is completely in character, and nothing but serious. She even sang a few songs from Wicked, and as a fan who knows the songs by heart according to her voice from the recordings, she might as well have just painted herself green before she got on stage, because she sounded exactly like Elphaba, not Idina.

At least, she did until she forgot the words.

It was only Defying Gravity. You know, no big deal.

She wasn't always serious though. She's an incredibly personable performer, managing to look stunning in a bright yellow gown and at the same time telling embarrassing stories and drinking orange juice (which, may I add, she almost choked on a couple times. Apparently that happens when you're trying to breathe and drink at once).

She didn't wear shoes. She sang us songs that she and her husband made up for everyday occurrences with their baby boy, such as the song for when he falls asleep while breast feeding and the song for when they're going for a car ride with their black, Jewish dog.

But mostly, she just sang. It was fantastic.

Her voice is so effortless and smooth, and it just makes you want to go home and sing for hours.

Sigh... just thinking about it... Sigh.

Official Beyotch of the Night

In customer service, you see some pretty colorful characters. Anybody could tell you that.

Most of the time they're just weird. Or stupid.

Sometimes, they're little slices of hell cast down to Earth to make the rest of us suffer for sins that we may or may not have committed. Jesus died for them, these people live for them.

Here's a basic rundown of a conversation I had tonight.

First, let's set the stage. It's about 8:30, the store's not terribly crowded. I'm helping one group of people, there's another lady up front, and a couple people sitting on the benches waiting for their order.

As I finish with the little group I'm helping and they go toddling off, drink cups in hand, another guy walks in. He's in his twenties, cute enough to be pleasant company but my pulse is still exactly where it should be. The lady who was there before him is standing awkwardly between the two registers, but closer to the one that I'm not at, staring awkwardly up. Like, I can't tell if she's reading the menu boards, or if she just shifted her gaze in that general direction and got stuck. There was so much awkward in her situation, I didn't even know what to make of it.

Some people stand in such awkward manners because they're truly dumbfounded by the contents of the menu board and, despite the fact that they have been there now for multiple minutes, they still can't really decide what they want. And considering how many we get of that specimen, let's just say I wasn't phased.

So said hey, and asked how "they" were doing today. That way, if Madam Awkward was feeling like she was finally ready to get in the big kid line and place an order, she could snap out of her freaky little trance and head over to my register, aka the only one with a person standing in front of it. 

She did not.

She continued to stand exactly where she was, looking exactly where she was.

So the guy kind of starts to head up, we're both in that unsure mode of "Who's next? Is it you? I don't know, she was here, but she doesn't look ready... ah hell, it's you."

He steps up, orders, goes to sit and wait, easy peasy.

As soon as he walked past her, boom trance over.

"Excuse me, I was here first. Why would you help him first? I had been here. That is so RUDE. I mean, I've been here, and what is this, just suddenly this cute guy walks in and you just ignore me? I cannot BELIEVE how RUDE you are. I CANNOT BELIEVE it. That is so ridiculously rude."

Woah there lady, calm it. Now don't be fooled by the fact that I used periods instead of exclamation points. That does not mean that she was any degree calmer. In fact, she was stark raving pissed. Here I was, thinking that she was just another dumbo who couldn't decide what she wanted for dinner, but actually she's some ego-bruised middle age devil sent here to make generalizations about teenage girls. Who knew?

So she's going on about how ridiculously. rude. I am, while I'm telling her that it really wasn't what was intended at all. My manager comes up after she says that I ignored her for a boy (who, let's face it, really wasn't even that cute) and assures her that that's really not the case at all, and it's definitely not the way we work. Then he gives her a 70% discount on one of her dishes, throw a few free desserts at her, and the whole time we're apologizing.

"I'm really very sorry, ma'am. I didn't intend to ignore you at all. We just have a lot of people who come in and are looking at the menu, and I didn't want to rush you. I wasn't sure if you were ready. I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to ignore you, I really didn't."

"It's so just unbelievably rude. I wasn't looking at the menu, I was watching my food get put down over there. (She was there to pick up a phone-in... who knew). And then I watched that girl in the pink sweatshirt try and take it. (Actually, she was checking to see when her order would be ready). I just can't believe that you would ignore me. I was here first. You just wait until you get to be my age and people ignore you."

Mind you, she wasn't that old. Forties, maybe early fifties? Yeah, not that old.

So we apologized many times, and sent her grumbling out the door. Only after she asked for my name, of course, probably so that she could lodge an official complaint on the website against the obviously sex-crazed teenage girl.

The Work Emma was very apologetic. Yes ma'am, of course ma'am, it's all my fault ma'am, I'm very, very sorry.

If it was the Real Emma?

"Excuse me, ma'am, do you realize how obscenely abrasive you are? I mean, Jesus Christ, you weren't even in a line. What is this, Mobs-R-Us? No ma'am, we form lines here. In fact, we even have little ropes to help you out. Generally, the best idea is to just stand right behind the person who's currently being helped, that way you're next in line. Get it? Oh, and by the way, while you were lurking by the second register, we clearly told you on the phone to come to the third. And either way you count it, the one you're standing by will always be the second, because it happens to be in the middle. So props on following directions, Satan spawn. And you know what? He is cute, and he's a hell of a lot cuter than you are, because let's face it, you're getting on there in years and you  have way too many wrinkles to be considered attractive. Also, any inkling of a desire that I may have at one point fostered toward wanting to help you has been completely and brutally extinguished by the fact that you are a huge bitch who needs to locate whatever has been stuck up your butt and dislodge it, asap. OH, and if you're still hungry, there's a Wendy's next door. Open 24 hours. Have a good night."

If only...

Endeavors of the Kitchen

Yesterday, I told my mom that I wanted to make dinner.

She was so excited / relieved, I'm surprised she didn't just throw a dish towel at me and run giggling into the other room.

Ah, the simple joys.

Anyway, tonight my agenda was to make for dinner strawberry & white wine chicken breasts coupled with a salad of fresh lettuce and spinach, strawberries, almond slices, feta cheese, and poppyseed dressing, followed by a dessert of almond cake.

I found the recipe for the cake first, on a new blog I just found called Orangette. Of course, it wasn't until after I baked the cake that I realized she is in Seattle, and so the ingredients might need to be slightly altered, considering I live about 5000 feet higher than her and in considerably less humidity.

Regardless. I made the cake.

So while that sat out to cool all afternoon, I set the chicken marinating in the fridge in a mixture of white wine and rosemary, and went to a voice lesson and a going-away party. When I got back, it was go time.

I'd really been wanting something with a strawberry flavor, so I found a recipe that was not just a salad with strawberries in it, but an actual meal with a hint of strawberry flair.

The cooking was fairly easy, but thinking back on it I would have toned down on the amount of spices put into it, and let the rosemary simply sit in the white wine and mix with the marinade instead of heaping it on top of the chicken in the overly aesthetic way that I opted for.

So when time came to actually serve dinner, it all looked pretty nice.

And may I just say that for the record, if you're ever trying a new recipe or branching out your cooking in a way that you're not entirely 100% certain of the quality of your results, try it out on your parents. Or at least the one who eats the most. They make a great audience. 

Everything was good. Actually, it was really good.

The chicken could have used fewer spices, the strawberry sauce could have been thinner.

And, if you ever get a recipe from a lower altitude than you, it's probably a good idea to be proactive about that.

It was supposed to be crumbly, instead it was a little bit softer and more oily, so closer to a pie than a cake. If you want the recipe so that you can muck it up same as me, you can find it here.

However, once again, the father-eating-audience made all of the imperfections completely okay by gobbling down his piece like a diabetic with low blood sugar and asking if he could "have another, please."

Overall? Not the best dinner I've ever had. It could use improvement. For instance, the next time I go to make the almond cake, I'm going to add more flour and less almond extract, and make sure that the cooking spray on the parchment paper is nice and light. 

But hey, at least my mom didn't have to make dinner.

Ooh, Worldly

Browsin' my stats last night. Page views. Oy, it's by country. Score.

People have read my blog from Malaysia and the UK?

I FEEL SO WORLDLY.

That's actually really awesome. So, if you're from a different state or country or something, some place where I probably don't know you, let me know! I think it would be wicked sweet to get comments from people who aren't even from my country.

Wicked. Sweet.

On a different note, I really like feta cheese and strawberries. Now if only there were actually recipes in which they went together.

Maybe I will make one up.

I will call it... "Fetaberries."

Keep you posted on that one. Because let's face it, it sounds like quite the gem.

Productivity, I Own You

Today, I learned a new song on guitar, painted our porch, made dinner, read a story in French, and brought pudding to my friend whose face is determined to have it's revenge for her removal of its wisdom teeth.

What did you do?

Green Lantern: Deserves More Credit Than It's Been Given

Yes, this is going to be a movie review. Figured I would branch out and try something new, especially as this may possibly be something that I'm interested in doing for a career in the future.

But before I start, just let me say: I hate reviews.

Not all of them, of course, but most of them. Some are decent, but some are written by people who I can't imagine ever having a good time at a movie. Which just makes me wonder... why the hell would you write movie reviews if you don't like movies?

But I love movies, and I love superhero movies. I'll admit, I never got as into the Batman and Spiderman series as other people did, mainly because I wasn't a fan of the acting by some of the characters.

Regardless, I enjoy all of the superhero movies that I've seen, and that is because of what they are. Which is one fact that I think a lot of people need clarification on.

I never read the comics. I don't know the finer details of the character's backgrounds. I wish I did, and maybe one day I will read them all.

But so many people don't seem to understand that even in today's world of cinematic pseudo-realism, where moviemakers try to make every movie seem as if it could actually happen in real life, the leading characteristic of superhero movies is the fact that they're not realistic.

Any evil can be defeated, the hero has masses of untapped potential, the hero will win their battle and get the girl. That's old news. But from what I've heard, some people seem to be unaware of this age-old phenomena. One of the biggest complaints that I've heard is about how cheesy the movie is, and how predictable is it, etc., etc.

That's part of the glory.

When I go to see a superhero movie, I'm not wondering at how the story will turn out. I know that once the villain is introduced, he may get worse and seem to be erring on victory, but the hero will defeat him and save his country, or family, or whatever it is that's being threatened. My interest lies in how the artistic aspects will play out. The script has to be good, even if it is direct; the fights must be well choreographed, and the special effects convincing.

One review I read said that "Green Lantern uses so much CGI it's a wonder anyone bothered bringing a camera to the set." But isn't that what superhero movies are about? We all know the story, the flips and twists that fail to surprise us but not to entertain us. Knowing what you're going to see, why would you be disappointed that it delivers exactly what you're expecting?

But enough of me pointing out the inconsistencies in the complaints.

Green Lantern had some pretty strong things going for it.

First off, I liked the character development. True, the movie took some compression and modification in order to make an engaging screenplay out of the original story, but they still did a good job of telling you who the characters were, and what their relationship was to one another.

It could have used a little more time in the development of the conflict, as I felt that the succession from discovering a new and imminent threat to it's destruction was a little rushed, but they did what they could without adding too much length to the movie.

There was more than one side to Hal's character. He had fear, he had strength, he had devotion. And between the script and Ryan Reynolds' acting, that was all demonstrated very well.

Reynolds did a fantastic job. Obviously, as a superhero, you have to look the part, and he most certainly did. But Reynolds took it one step farther and fit the part perfectly through his actions, as a good actor should. He had the perfect facial expressions, and dynamite delivery of not only the cocky wit that he's known for, but the more serious and dramatic lines as well. Even those who didn't appreciate or approve of the rest of the movie would have to admit that between Reynolds, Blake Lively, and Peter Sarsgaard (the villain,Hector) the acting was undoubtedly worth watching.

They're afraid of the color yellow. They use the color green to fight evil. Their armor grows onto their bodies in times of trouble. They can create anything using their will.

Is it ridiculous? Of course. It is a movie that fit perfectly into the superhero parameters laid out for it?

Most definitely.

Deep Intrigues of the Night

My mind has been feeling very philosophical lately.

Everything has a meaning. Everything has a lesson. Everything is trying to teach me something deeper.

My frustration at my friends has taught me apathy. I mean, I've always excelled at being apathetic, but this has given me a real reason. Why should I allow people who obviously don't care to affect me so much?

I shouldn't.

Those people who do care will talk to me, will hang out with me, will make plans with me and maintain a relationship with me without me having to break my back in the efforts to keep it together.

So I shouldn't give a single shit about the people who don't.

Well, glad that's settled.

Easier said that done, I'm finding, but I feel like the repetition of the same situations is life's way of telling me that with a little practice, I can master the art of selective friendships and no longer let the ones that deserve my apathy instead derive my tears of anguish.

Talking to other people about their problems had made me realize that I'm not very good at consoling people.

I can listen to your problems. I can tell you the reality of the situation, and the reality of the possible outcomes. I'm good at that.

I'm just not very good at 'looking on the bright side' or 'putting an optimistic spin on things'. I know that now.

I suppose in a way, I always knew that. I'm never all that optimistic with myself, because I prefer to think of my situation in the most realistic an air as possible, so that I know the real life consequences of my actions, instead of the 'best possible scenario'. Now I know that applies to other people, too.

But I also know that I like listening. Even if I don't offer much advice, and all I can say is "well dude that sucks, but let me tell you how bad it actually is versus how bad you think it is," I'm still there for people whenever they need me.

I've made pretty damn good progress on the acoustic since I started on Monday.

I always think that there are some people who can achieve great things in short periods of time, but for most people it's impossible.

Even though I haven't had near as much time as I wanted to work on it, I've learned a lot about guitar in the few days and the little amounts of time that I've spent with it. And I feel like all it takes is dedication, and I can do anything.

Which motivates me. If I can do anything, then I should set some damn goals.

Goal #1: Learn Italian by the end of summer. See it on my summer checklist? Wait for August when I can check that puppy off.

Goal #2: Learn acoustic enough to be able to play Paper Aeroplane by KT Tunstall by the end of summer.

Welp, this summer looks like it might be a tad busy.

But I think that I can do it.

I feel like this post got a little ramble-y, and I don't particularly feel like reading over it for continuity like I usually do, so... I'll just say this.

Everything happens for a reason. I don't know that I believe in fate, or pre-planned destinies, or gods. But I do know that every instance in life can teach you something if you just look for it.

And when you look for it, you can learn a damn lot.

Vacation From What, Exactly

I've never been too big of a believer in the golden rule.

I mean, treat others as you want to be treated? But what if the others are big, fat idiots?

Yeah, I'm too brash for that.

But to an extent, I do understand it. On a basic level of respect, I understand it. Not for everybody, mind you, but for some people. If I like somebody, or consider them my friend, then unless they do something to merit disrespect, they deserve golden treatment.

Because to me, respect shows that you care. If you consider somebody your friend, you will respect them enough to tell them the truth, or stick to plans, or not disappoint them.

One would think.

However, that has not been my experience. At all.

I know that I stick to plans more than most people. I know that I don't tell just anybody "sure, let's hang out" like most people do. I only tell the people that I actually care to hang out with. The others get rejected. Tastefully, of course.

What with it being summer, I feel like I should see people more. Do more stuff with them. Talk to them. Whatever.

So instead of my typical "meh" attitude, where my rationale consists of the satisfaction that I see people at school and the lack of necessity to see them elsewhere, I've actually been trying to do things with people.

And getting blown off.

Every time.

Now, it's not exactly a new sensation to me. The people that I befriend apparently don't hold the same moral values of respect that I do, and the past three or so summers I'm pretty sure I've gone the whole time without seeing my school friends once.

So you would think that the fact that it still happens wouldn't daze me at all.

But it does.

I feel like if I plan something with somebody, even if I'm not too invested in it, it's my obligation to go through with it. And I've discovered over and over again that even the things which don't sound fun on paper usually end up being twice as entertaining or fulfilling as originally forecast.

Yet time and time again I see that other people don't feel the same sense of obligation, and time and time again I'm disappointed.

Despite my efforts, I see that this summer will be just like all of the others.

Shattered plans and a proliferation of disappointments.