More randomosity

The reeking car has gotten a bit better. My friend Josh Slocum (not THE Josh Slocum, settle down) has informed me that when animals die in your car, if they're squirrel-sized or smaller they will decompose in about 3 weeks, and if after 3 weeks you can still smell them...it's probably larger than a squirrel. Obviously I hope it's not a dead animal, but honestly, what else could it be. It's weird.

In other updates, my leg is...okay. Some days it still hurts, some days I'm fine. And wearing heels is still sort of leg-unfriendly, and running the 8K race a few weekends ago was not the best feeling in the world. Le sigh. I just want it to be better so I can do the half-marathon in a little over a month!

Finally, in the nothing ventured, nothing gained department, a completely hot guy who used to be a former model (so he says...and I believe it, he's pretty hot) posted an ad online. Well, I remembered him from previous ads but figured, former model? Yeah ha. But then I figured, well, if he turns me down, it's hardly going to be unexpected. So I wrote him a sparkling message about how I initially was disturbed by his modelosity but figured maybe he had popular girl syndrome ("Everybody assumes she's unattainable, so she's the loneliest of them all!"), and hey, even former male models have to date and the pool of female models is rather low, particularly in the nova area, so....hey, why not. Imagine my shock when he responded positively even AFTER the obligatory "send my picture and wait to never hear back again" period. Who with the what?

Don't think I'm posting like, look at me, an incredibly hot guy responded to my message. It's more like, what is WRONG with this incredibly hot guy that hasn't shown up yet? It's coming, I'm sure.

Also. Springtime. Who DOESN'T love it? Short skirts and open-toed shoes, breezes in the air, fans on at night. And me, heading off to NYC this Friday to see Gill. Could life be any more exciting?

The rotting corpse of the squirrel in my car

Okay, I know that's nasty. But so's your mom. Just kidding! More seriously, this is embarrassing, but my car REEKS, man. I can't figure out why, because it's not like I've left behind any food (the things I eat in my car: candy, breakfast muffin, water. And I throw away the wrappers from the first two when I arrive at my destination), and as far as I know, no animals have crawled into my car....it's so gross. I don't want anybody to ride in my car, like, ever. Ugh.

What could it be? I'm flummoxed.

In other news, this season of Survivor just might contain the most misogynist group of assholes I've ever had the misfortune to see on the show, and I've suffered through some hard times with Mark Burnett Productions. I think I mentioned earlier something about Cute Anthony and how I liked him...well, then he started to grate, but that was because I didn't realize the editors were hiding his wicked sense of humor. Now I'm back firmly into the "cute, smart, and fun" arena. Anthony, call me!

On the plus side, the reshuffling of the tribes last night means that all the assholes are conveniently grouped in one bunch and the semi-decent people are grouped with the okay to middling people in another. Mookie and Alex are bad enough on their own, but Rocky? ROCKY? Sweet jesus what a fricking bully. I...I cannot continue.

My rage is rising and I cannot continue. I must go now and prepare to drive to work in my smelly, smelly car. Le sigh.

Down is Up, Up is Down, It's Warm, It's Cold, What's Going On?

This has quite possibly been the craziest week EVER. Well, for me, at any rate. Every time I'm like, "Oh, I should post something," the story gets a little more random.

The short version of my life right now is that it was briefly warm and glorious and we were all busting out the short skirts and strappy sandals and life was happy. Then it got cold and crappy again and culminated in iciness, which was just no fun at all. Boooo.

Also, boys are weird. First I went out with one who decided he just wanted to be friends. Then I went out with another one twice in three days who I liked a lot. Then the first boy came back and said, okay, I changed my mind, let's go out tonight. Only to email me again today (after going out on Friday) and say, oops, changed my mind again. The hell?

I'm not devastated, but there is an element of feeling like the rug was pulled out from under me. First the weather (I shouldn't be returning to long underwear after a few days of open-toed shoes!), now this. Everything is topsy-turvy.

On the plus side,it's now lighter a lot later. Which is nice. And hopefully a sign that the happy things of last week will be coming back sometime soon, and the bad things (weather and flakes, of the male persuasion that is) are just temporary dips backwards.

Movie review: Zodiac

Robert Downey Jr: Fucking awesome (but fucking old, man! That's what years and years of hard drug use will do to you!)

Jake Gyllenhaal: As fucking annoying as ever

The actual movie: Fucking long. My goodness. 2 hours and 40 minutes? That's too long.

But, pretty good. Just long. More RDJ and less JG, please.

It's like Medium, only with Jeff Goldblum, and "funny!"

From nbc.com, about Raines:
Eccentric LAPD Detective Michael Raines (Goldblum) uses his unique imagination to focus on every murder case in such a way that the murder victims actually begin to take shape in front of him. At first, he thinks he's losing his mind, but he then uses the constantly evolving hallucinations -- which are figments of his imagination and not ghosts -- to help him discover the victims' killers. Raines struggles to accept this peculiar gift -- or burden -- and reconcile it with his daily life.

What do you do when the previews look assy but you have a shameful, unholy love for Jeff Goldblum that has burned within you since Jurassic Park? Le sigh.

Next Singer: 2nd Platoon

When it's your sister's, and Colon's, and some person you've never met, threeway birthday party at a karaoke bar in Old Town, what is one closet "I'm shy but I secretly LOVE to perform despite my near tone-deaf status" 30-something to do? Why, bust out the Eminem, of course. So WON'T the real Slim Shady please stand up?

Okay, I have to back up a bit. I was psyched beyond belief to get the evite for this magical night and was actually the first person to RSVP yes, even before Joey F, husband to one of the birthday organizers (aka my brother-in-law). I was THERE, smoky bar and bad singing status (why yes, I DID fail basic aural skills the first time around due in part to my inability to sight sing, why do you ask?) be damned. As the night approached, my excitement grew. There was the most delicious bakery birthday cake in all the land to be consumed. There were friends and strangers. There was easy parking not far from the bar (a Very Good Thing, given the fact the day started at 60 and plummeted to 30 or so by the time we went). And yes, there were 23 people performing before my sister was up, and then I was immediately following. But who cared, right? Because it was KARAOKE.

My nervousness grew after the first guy approached. This guy looked like Rock It Grill had called Central Casting and asked to Send Them a Marine. Seriously, shaved head, rigid posture, t-shirt tucked into stiff, ironed jeans...and then all of a sudden out of this solemn man comes the purest, bestest Axl Rose falsetto you've ever heard in your life singing the crap out of "Sweet Child o'Mine." Okay, I am FUCKED. Since when did karaoke night become "I'm too old for American Idol" night? Fortunately a few rounds later three women actively sucked at Ice Ice Baby and I knew I wouldn't be the worst person of the night, making me much more able to enjoy the rest of the performances before mine came along.

Some highlights:

* The 2nd Platoon, a group of people who were MAYBE two years old when Top Gun came out, coming up in a group to sing You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling (a song I HATE, but that's neither here nor there), drunkenly proclaiming their love for their fellow platoon buddies, telling us all they'd be shipping out to Iraq next week.....it's sad and kinda depressing, but then more than slightly comical when you realize all they know of military right now is how Top Gun told them to act in this scenario.

* The trashiest Reba McEntire song EVER, called Fancy, about a trailer trash mom who teaches her daughter Fancy to whore herself out to the highest bidder to climb out of the trailer park. I'm not even making that up. "momma, what do I do? she said, 'just be nice to the gentlemen, fancy, they'll be nice to you.'" Uh, thanks, Momma! Those lyrics were way more disturbing than the f-word that was bleeped out of MY song approximately 7 times.

* Don't Stop Believing....now this was classic karaoke in all its glory. The bug-eyed woman with frizzy hair melodramatically singing the crap out of the song, the whole bar singing along...nothing but smile-times.

Then a bunch of people didn't show, and suddenly Mrs. P was singing...um, You're My Best Friend? That Queen song, and I was Next. No worries (okay, a few tons of them). I knew I had the first verse down, but the others were questionable. But I went up there, I did it, I loved it, and yes I could barely hear myself, and yes I ran out of breath a few times, but I was definitely better than the Ice Ice Baby women. Who also sucked at Baby Got Back and Let's Get It On, I should add.

The only sucky part of the night? Nobody else went. What's up with that, lameo birthday people?