At least according to this article.
For those of you who don't want to click over to the fail, here's a rundown of some of the "gems" on the list:
Don't be smarter than your mate.
Don't have an "immature" hobby. (Action figures? Comic books? Video games? Oh no!)
Don't take a dump in front of each other. (Gotta maintain the "mystery", whatever the hell that means.)
Don't take separate vacays.
Don't have kids.
Don't have a big bed. (You totally need a cramped little twin sized bed so you can like cuddle and make out and stuff!)
Don't have a TV in the bedroom.
Don't change your appearance. At all. Ever.
Prime and I collect Transformers. Our hobby is the reason why we met. We had a big TV in our bedroom at one point... and used it to play video games. I dyed my hair red a few years ago. We sleep in a huge-ass king sized bed. And we just got married this year, after being together for damn near a decade. Yeah, we're seriously doomed. /sarcasm
--Weasel, "This just in, CNN fails. Film at whenthefuckever."
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
And It Starts Again...
Yesterday, I cleaned out my suitcase and washed my laundry. All of it. Anything that I hadn't worn in a few days got pitched in the washer.
The suitcase is empty, for now. But I'll probably be ready to pack up by the end of next week.
I know, I know... why in the hell would I want to get ready this soon? I've got damn near six months to wait.
Well, there's a saying: a man begins to enjoy his vacation the moment he arrives while a woman begins to enjoy hers the moment she starts to pack. It goes without saying that I want to enjoy every last second of BotCon. So I start as early as possible.
It's also one of the few things that helps to perk me up during winter. Knowing that I can grab my already packed suitcase and simply GO at the drop of a hat brings a smile to my face. It doesn't seem like much, but it means a lot to me. And considering the length of most Wisconsin winters, I'll steal whatever joy I can get.
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to work on getting my toiletries done....
--Weasel, wishing for summer already.
The suitcase is empty, for now. But I'll probably be ready to pack up by the end of next week.
I know, I know... why in the hell would I want to get ready this soon? I've got damn near six months to wait.
Well, there's a saying: a man begins to enjoy his vacation the moment he arrives while a woman begins to enjoy hers the moment she starts to pack. It goes without saying that I want to enjoy every last second of BotCon. So I start as early as possible.
It's also one of the few things that helps to perk me up during winter. Knowing that I can grab my already packed suitcase and simply GO at the drop of a hat brings a smile to my face. It doesn't seem like much, but it means a lot to me. And considering the length of most Wisconsin winters, I'll steal whatever joy I can get.
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to work on getting my toiletries done....
--Weasel, wishing for summer already.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Friday Photoblog: What I Really Want for Christmas Edition
Hardcopy of the unreleased 6 inch Transformers Titanium Series War Within Bumblebee. From BotCon 2007.(I would sell an internal organ or three to have him. He would be so loved. Many tears were shed over "what might have been" that day.)
White Christmas
It was twenty years ago when I experienced my first white Christmas.
I was living in North Carolina, right along the coast. The coast of NC rarely gets snow, if at all. Our winters were simply too warm. Any and all precipitation we would receive was in the form of rain. If we ever got any frozen forms, they were sleet or the ubiquitous freezing rain.
None of those are fun if you're a kid. When you're young, you want snow. That's just how it is. Especially around Christmas.
So in 1989, the Christmas week weather forecast called for rain with cold temps. But don't worry, the meteorologists all reassured, there was simply no way we would get snow. It was impossible.
But the impossible happened.
Saturday night, I was holed up in my bedroom, blaring Solid Gold Saturday Night from my stereo. Out of the blue, my dad called for me. So I trotted down the hallway and into the living room.
Dad had the curtains open and the floodlights on. There was something swirling in front of the bulbs. It didn't look like rain. Because it wasn't.
It was snow. We were getting snow. The impossible had happened.
The next day I awoke to a land covered in white and still more was falling. I was dressed and out the door before my parents could even blink.
I spent the better part of the day in the snow, cavorting like there was no tomorrow. I had never had such fun; we rarely got snow in that area of the country. But all good things must come to an end--eventually, the flakes stopped falling. But by that time (mid-afternoon), the ground was covered in a thick blanket. We had gotten eighteen inches.
The snow lasted for a week. The entire city was practically shut down, since most southerners had no idea how to drive in the frozen stuff. For weeks after the event we had letter after letter in the local paper complaining about it.
But for me, it was perfect. And it was the best Christmas present I could receive as a young teen--a once-in-a-lifetime event that I will never forget.
I was living in North Carolina, right along the coast. The coast of NC rarely gets snow, if at all. Our winters were simply too warm. Any and all precipitation we would receive was in the form of rain. If we ever got any frozen forms, they were sleet or the ubiquitous freezing rain.
None of those are fun if you're a kid. When you're young, you want snow. That's just how it is. Especially around Christmas.
So in 1989, the Christmas week weather forecast called for rain with cold temps. But don't worry, the meteorologists all reassured, there was simply no way we would get snow. It was impossible.
But the impossible happened.
Saturday night, I was holed up in my bedroom, blaring Solid Gold Saturday Night from my stereo. Out of the blue, my dad called for me. So I trotted down the hallway and into the living room.
Dad had the curtains open and the floodlights on. There was something swirling in front of the bulbs. It didn't look like rain. Because it wasn't.
It was snow. We were getting snow. The impossible had happened.
The next day I awoke to a land covered in white and still more was falling. I was dressed and out the door before my parents could even blink.
I spent the better part of the day in the snow, cavorting like there was no tomorrow. I had never had such fun; we rarely got snow in that area of the country. But all good things must come to an end--eventually, the flakes stopped falling. But by that time (mid-afternoon), the ground was covered in a thick blanket. We had gotten eighteen inches.
The snow lasted for a week. The entire city was practically shut down, since most southerners had no idea how to drive in the frozen stuff. For weeks after the event we had letter after letter in the local paper complaining about it.
But for me, it was perfect. And it was the best Christmas present I could receive as a young teen--a once-in-a-lifetime event that I will never forget.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
The Worst Christmas Ever
Once upon a time, back in the 1990s I dated a jackass. I do not kid about this fact.
It was around Christmas time, many years ago when said jackass wanted to know what I'd like. I told him--G2 Dreadwing. This was the only item I wanted for Christmas that year: I didn't want jewelry, I didn't want clothes, I just wanted that Transformer.
The days passed. I bought my gifts for my jackass boyfiend and my other friends. Then one day, the jackass tells me that he's done his shopping and he got an extra special, completely awesome gift for me. He swears I'll love it.
My heart jumps. Oh God, I think. He got me Dreadwing! I can barely wait until I get my gift.
When we have our party, I'm practically dancing with delight. I can barely wait to rip the wrapping paper off my brand new TF.
We go through the usual stuff, we trade gifts, rip them open, thank each other. I'm impatiently waiting to get my "special" gift; the jackass has been swearing for days that I will absolutely adore it.
Then the moment comes. My jackass boyfiend and one of my other friends comes out, dragging a large box. They then launch into a song: "The 12 Days of Yaksmas".
A Ren and Stimpy song.
Did I mention that I hated Ren and Stimpy? And that my jackass bf loved to exploit that?
The special gift was little more than a damned joke. I was pissed.
I spent the rest of the party outside, so pissed I couldn't see straight. It was not a good night.
Thankfully, the jackass wised up a little and realized that he had hurt my feelings. So to smooth things over, he bought Dreadwing for me that night. At least that didn't suck.
As for the crap in the giant box--most of it got pitched. The only thing I kept were the socks.
They lasted longer than my ex. They also were a lot more useful.
It was around Christmas time, many years ago when said jackass wanted to know what I'd like. I told him--G2 Dreadwing. This was the only item I wanted for Christmas that year: I didn't want jewelry, I didn't want clothes, I just wanted that Transformer.
The days passed. I bought my gifts for my jackass boyfiend and my other friends. Then one day, the jackass tells me that he's done his shopping and he got an extra special, completely awesome gift for me. He swears I'll love it.
My heart jumps. Oh God, I think. He got me Dreadwing! I can barely wait until I get my gift.
When we have our party, I'm practically dancing with delight. I can barely wait to rip the wrapping paper off my brand new TF.
We go through the usual stuff, we trade gifts, rip them open, thank each other. I'm impatiently waiting to get my "special" gift; the jackass has been swearing for days that I will absolutely adore it.
Then the moment comes. My jackass boyfiend and one of my other friends comes out, dragging a large box. They then launch into a song: "The 12 Days of Yaksmas".
A Ren and Stimpy song.
Did I mention that I hated Ren and Stimpy? And that my jackass bf loved to exploit that?
The special gift was little more than a damned joke. I was pissed.
I spent the rest of the party outside, so pissed I couldn't see straight. It was not a good night.
Thankfully, the jackass wised up a little and realized that he had hurt my feelings. So to smooth things over, he bought Dreadwing for me that night. At least that didn't suck.
As for the crap in the giant box--most of it got pitched. The only thing I kept were the socks.
They lasted longer than my ex. They also were a lot more useful.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
I'm Going to Disney World!
And it's not to see that stupid rat, either!
BotCon 2010: Walt Disney World Dolphin Hotel and Convention Center, Florida June 24-27
Thank Primus I was off today: I was able to reserve our hotel room. If I hadn't been here it would be another waking nightmare like this year.
And I'm gonna have to fly. Again. Gods, how I hate flying. (But if Mark Ryan comes back as a proper guest, I'll be more than happy to board the plane. But I digress.)
--Weasel, "Screw Ca$hma$--BotCon is the most wonderful time of the year!"
BotCon 2010: Walt Disney World Dolphin Hotel and Convention Center, Florida June 24-27
Thank Primus I was off today: I was able to reserve our hotel room. If I hadn't been here it would be another waking nightmare like this year.
And I'm gonna have to fly. Again. Gods, how I hate flying. (But if Mark Ryan comes back as a proper guest, I'll be more than happy to board the plane. But I digress.)
--Weasel, "Screw Ca$hma$--BotCon is the most wonderful time of the year!"
Friday, December 18, 2009
Friday Photoblog: "Here's Your Sign" Edition
Sign at Universal Studios Hollywood. BotCon 2009(I didn't climb it, but I did want to hang my head over and spit. Just for shits and giggles.)
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Ten Years
He looks in the mirror and sees
a thousand things he'd like to change
like his hair
because it sticks out too much and
doesn't do what he wants it to
or his nose
'cause he doesn't like the shape and
the way it looks
or his deep barrel chest
because he thinks it's too big
and so many other things about himself that
just don't seem to measure up.
But I see things differently.
I see tousled hair that reminds me of
pleasant dreams and
lying next to the one I love or
a large chest that is perfect to
lean against when I am upset or lonely or
broad shoulders that I can lean on after
a hard day at work or
soft hands to hold onto when I am groping
in the darkness, alone.
In my eyes, I see perfection
no matter what others may say.
He sees a thousand things
he'd love to change about himself,
but I would never
change a thing.
I love you, Prime. Now, forever and always.
a thousand things he'd like to change
like his hair
because it sticks out too much and
doesn't do what he wants it to
or his nose
'cause he doesn't like the shape and
the way it looks
or his deep barrel chest
because he thinks it's too big
and so many other things about himself that
just don't seem to measure up.
But I see things differently.
I see tousled hair that reminds me of
pleasant dreams and
lying next to the one I love or
a large chest that is perfect to
lean against when I am upset or lonely or
broad shoulders that I can lean on after
a hard day at work or
soft hands to hold onto when I am groping
in the darkness, alone.
In my eyes, I see perfection
no matter what others may say.
He sees a thousand things
he'd love to change about himself,
but I would never
change a thing.
I love you, Prime. Now, forever and always.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Friday Photoblog: Under Strain Edition
Plankton net at Wood's Hole.(Random fact: When you swallow seawater, you're not just getting a dose of saline but protein as well! :gag:)
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Aftermath
So, the storm's gone. We actually have some sunny weather for once. Cold, but sunny.
I called my parents last night, so they would know that we're not forced to build igloos in order to survive. Talked to my mother and since there's no delicate way of putting this, I'll just come out and say it.
She's been diagnosed with breast cancer.
Yeah, it hit me like twelve tons of bricks, too.
It's stage zero and the cure rate is 99% which is damn good. But still. This is one of those things that's supposed to happen to someone else. But when you think about it, you're "someone else" to somebody else.
I'm surprised I'm even up and blogging about this: my first reaction this morning was to roll over and sleep the rest of the damned day. The only reason I'm doing this is if I don't keep my mind occupied, I'll just crawl back into bed, yank the blankets over my head, grab Slumblebee and start sobbing. Which of course, serves no real purpose. It might make me feel better, though.
This also means I now have a family history of cancer. Again, if there were some actual functioning and affordable robot upgrades, I'd trade in this meatsack in a nanosecond. Who's with me?
Suddenly those damned pink ribbons and that Pinktober stuff doesn't look so frigging ridiculous.
....fuck.
I called my parents last night, so they would know that we're not forced to build igloos in order to survive. Talked to my mother and since there's no delicate way of putting this, I'll just come out and say it.
She's been diagnosed with breast cancer.
Yeah, it hit me like twelve tons of bricks, too.
It's stage zero and the cure rate is 99% which is damn good. But still. This is one of those things that's supposed to happen to someone else. But when you think about it, you're "someone else" to somebody else.
I'm surprised I'm even up and blogging about this: my first reaction this morning was to roll over and sleep the rest of the damned day. The only reason I'm doing this is if I don't keep my mind occupied, I'll just crawl back into bed, yank the blankets over my head, grab Slumblebee and start sobbing. Which of course, serves no real purpose. It might make me feel better, though.
This also means I now have a family history of cancer. Again, if there were some actual functioning and affordable robot upgrades, I'd trade in this meatsack in a nanosecond. Who's with me?
Suddenly those damned pink ribbons and that Pinktober stuff doesn't look so frigging ridiculous.
....fuck.
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
[snow] Blow Me. [/snow]
As promised--or perhaps threatened--10-14 inches of snow in our area, wind blasting it around like a bitch.
Boy, does our city suck when it comes to plowing the streets. Especially our street. It really seems that way, anyway, I mean--how the hell do you plow one way, then the other, back-and-forthing at the corners, and still leave gigantic rows and ruts in the road? The driver had to have positioned the plow six inches above the road surface to 'accomplish' the piss-poor job I saw. Completely tossed off the street at the end opposite of ours--just pushed it into high pack there, except for the path left where the truck initially turned in. That's some high-horsepower FAIL, right there. I hope that's not supposed to be S.O.P. for some reason--it seems damned stupid.
Hilariously, a couple of these dipsticks will, now and again, call into the local talk radio station and complain about people who blow the snow from their walks into the street and how tired they are because that (somehow) rrrrreally increases their workload. Uh, yeah, it's sure tough to half-assedly drive that big ol' truck; it just makes you do most of the work--how inconsiderate of that big ol' machine! Give me a break--if homeowners are doing it after the road's been made clear, that's one thing, I suppose. But if a plow truck hasn't been by yet? Bite our collective asses. Stupid local laws...
Prime got up sometime after six to get the blower going to clear our driveway. He test-started it last night and it revved right up on his first try. Naturally, it fought him this morning. John Deere = stubborn ol' cuss. Maybe I'll see about getting him a flamethrower for the holidaze...and tell him to use it on that yellow-and-green jerkwad machine first.
In any case, he finished the driveway and two-thirds of our sidewalk before having to stop so he'd have time to shower and get ready for work. He had to go over all the concrete we have when we got home, as it was still falling and blowing at a good clip. I'll point out that he is not one of those who blows the snow into the street, regardless of when a truck's been by--as he puts it, he has better things to do than pay an idiot fine because some dickwad neighbor takes personal offense and gives the city a call.
I made it into work fine; Prime was about ten minutes late. Not bad, considering the state of the streets/roads/etc. out there. He passed a truck on his way to work that was trying mightily to pull another pickup with a plow attachment outta the ditch, with a single chain. That really says...something, I don't know what.
By the way...chances are high that your local Walmart was/is still open, too, and waiting with bated breath for your business--be sure to waltz on in there sometime today and tell management that you're just tickled pink that they're ready to satisfy all your shopping needs, because you just don't know what you woulda done if you hadn't been able to pick up that 24-pack of Mountain Dew and that holiday sausage gift box you needed so badly.
--Weasel, "This momentary and pathetic attempt to brighten your day with a bemused smirk was brought to you by the letters S, N, O, W...A, another A, R, G, and H."
Boy, does our city suck when it comes to plowing the streets. Especially our street. It really seems that way, anyway, I mean--how the hell do you plow one way, then the other, back-and-forthing at the corners, and still leave gigantic rows and ruts in the road? The driver had to have positioned the plow six inches above the road surface to 'accomplish' the piss-poor job I saw. Completely tossed off the street at the end opposite of ours--just pushed it into high pack there, except for the path left where the truck initially turned in. That's some high-horsepower FAIL, right there. I hope that's not supposed to be S.O.P. for some reason--it seems damned stupid.
Hilariously, a couple of these dipsticks will, now and again, call into the local talk radio station and complain about people who blow the snow from their walks into the street and how tired they are because that (somehow) rrrrreally increases their workload. Uh, yeah, it's sure tough to half-assedly drive that big ol' truck; it just makes you do most of the work--how inconsiderate of that big ol' machine! Give me a break--if homeowners are doing it after the road's been made clear, that's one thing, I suppose. But if a plow truck hasn't been by yet? Bite our collective asses. Stupid local laws...
Prime got up sometime after six to get the blower going to clear our driveway. He test-started it last night and it revved right up on his first try. Naturally, it fought him this morning. John Deere = stubborn ol' cuss. Maybe I'll see about getting him a flamethrower for the holidaze...and tell him to use it on that yellow-and-green jerkwad machine first.
In any case, he finished the driveway and two-thirds of our sidewalk before having to stop so he'd have time to shower and get ready for work. He had to go over all the concrete we have when we got home, as it was still falling and blowing at a good clip. I'll point out that he is not one of those who blows the snow into the street, regardless of when a truck's been by--as he puts it, he has better things to do than pay an idiot fine because some dickwad neighbor takes personal offense and gives the city a call.
I made it into work fine; Prime was about ten minutes late. Not bad, considering the state of the streets/roads/etc. out there. He passed a truck on his way to work that was trying mightily to pull another pickup with a plow attachment outta the ditch, with a single chain. That really says...something, I don't know what.
By the way...chances are high that your local Walmart was/is still open, too, and waiting with bated breath for your business--be sure to waltz on in there sometime today and tell management that you're just tickled pink that they're ready to satisfy all your shopping needs, because you just don't know what you woulda done if you hadn't been able to pick up that 24-pack of Mountain Dew and that holiday sausage gift box you needed so badly.
--Weasel, "This momentary and pathetic attempt to brighten your day with a bemused smirk was brought to you by the letters S, N, O, W...A, another A, R, G, and H."
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Snow Day
It must officially be winter here; we have a winter storm dumping a crapload of snow on us. At least we'll have snow on the holidays. I guess that's kinda awesome.
--Weasel, "Now the idiots on the roadways are a totally different matter."
--Weasel, "Now the idiots on the roadways are a totally different matter."
Friday, December 04, 2009
Friday Photoblog: Get a Grip Edition
Sign For Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen at BotCon 2009.(At least he's not flipping us off, thank Primus...)
Thursday, December 03, 2009
I <3 Patrick Stewart
Just read this and you'll understand why.
(And I admit it, I cried while reading it.)
--Weasel, "Captain Picard FTW."
(And I admit it, I cried while reading it.)
--Weasel, "Captain Picard FTW."
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
I Wish
The shopping season is in full swing. I'm already exhausted.
Supposedly, we didn't have too much trouble on Black Friday; I didn't work that day so I can't be certain. We were "steady" this weekend--not crazy busy but busy enough. Monday was slow and Tuesday was nightmarish. I didn't get the self checks worth a damn which sucked. But not everything sucked.
For the past few weeks, I haven't seen head cashier Cathy at all. So I asked around a bit. Here's what I heard: Head cashier Cathy is on leave. She hurt her ankle and took an LOA. But the real kicker? She may not come back. Her husband may get permanent disability and if he does, she won't come back to work.
This is the same woman who screwed me out of the self checks every chance she got, who rode my ass constantly, who didn't know what the fuck she was doing and who panicked over the slightest thing.
Yeah, I'm hoping like hell her hubby gets disability for the rest of his life. If Cathy never steps foot in that building again, I'd be ecstatic.
--Weasel, "Now, if only I can make it to BotCon..."
Supposedly, we didn't have too much trouble on Black Friday; I didn't work that day so I can't be certain. We were "steady" this weekend--not crazy busy but busy enough. Monday was slow and Tuesday was nightmarish. I didn't get the self checks worth a damn which sucked. But not everything sucked.
For the past few weeks, I haven't seen head cashier Cathy at all. So I asked around a bit. Here's what I heard: Head cashier Cathy is on leave. She hurt her ankle and took an LOA. But the real kicker? She may not come back. Her husband may get permanent disability and if he does, she won't come back to work.
This is the same woman who screwed me out of the self checks every chance she got, who rode my ass constantly, who didn't know what the fuck she was doing and who panicked over the slightest thing.
Yeah, I'm hoping like hell her hubby gets disability for the rest of his life. If Cathy never steps foot in that building again, I'd be ecstatic.
--Weasel, "Now, if only I can make it to BotCon..."
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