Alive II: The Carnivorous Cruise

   

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This morning on the Today Show, Matt Lauer interviewed a honeymooning couple who were aboard the Carnival Cruise ship that was stranded at sea for 4 days. Unfortunately, I found myself still drinking my cup of coffee when the interview came on and was thus witness to the tale this couple told of the ordeal they endured. In case you missed it, here's a snippet of the interview that really brought home the extent of the hardship the passengers experienced. Paraphrased, of course. My thoughts to follow.

Matt Lauer: What was it exactly that you ate in order to stay alive?
New Bride: CEREAL!!! There was nothing but cereal for breakfast! Just cereal. And we had salads and sandwiches for lunch and dinner! Just vegetables! There was no meat at all!

Yes, I do believe he's picking his teeth

First of all, seriously, Matt? Seriously? To stay alive? Was it really that dire aboard the ship that the passengers were at risk of dying? They had food brought in for them for crying out loud! And free booze! It's not like they were in the Andes eating their left wing's buttocks (Google it: Andes rugby. Most disturbing book you'll ever read.).

Second of all, new bride, I don't mean to judge, but it kind of looks like eating salads and sandwiches for four days might actually be in your best interest, honey. Looks to me like you could use to lose a few (feign offense if you want, dear readers,* but you know you were thinking it too).

But you know what? I wasn't there. Maybe it really was that horrific and awful. A couple of passengers did have this to say, after all, in an interview with CBS News,  "You started seeing some peanut butter, which everybody was excited about," said Katie Sokulski. Dad Stan Allen agreed: "We didn't even know how much we loved peanut butter!" 

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I mean, it's not like I've ever been through an ordeal such as this, right? Although, there was that one ice storm that hit Northern NY and Canada in 1998... eh, but who am I kidding? I mean, my family was stranded in our house, in the middle of the woods, without power, for a week, and we couldn't flush the toilets, and we didn't have running water (all in the dead of winter), but hey, at least we didn't have to endure what this one woman complained about, "We were bored, we were hungry, we couldn't lay out because it wasn't sunny," said Amy Watts. 

And you know what? I bet those rugby players in the Andes were at least able to lay out in the sun while they gnawed on their homo sapien jerky.

* Apparently I'm channeling Stephen King.

My Brain's on Vay-Cay

Right now my mind is pretty much preoccupied with packing and other life shit. Coming up with clever things to write about is pretty much out of the question (Shut up! I do to write clever and funny things!). So, here is some random stuff to tide you over (I know, and it's not even RST).

First off, is a faux-Snuggie considered clothing? I happen to have one in my possession that I would like to get rid of. Can I drop it off in a clothing drive drop-off box, or is it technically considered a blanket, and therefore not suitable for the drop-off box?

Second of all, I just caught the weirdest, most-fascinating train wreck of a show on VH1, You're Cut Off! Normally, I don't write about the TV that I watch, but for fun, here's some quotes from the show:

"I didn't hire her as a life coach. I already have an astrologer."
"I am not doing laundry."
"We're taking a van? Seriously? We're not getting a limo?"
"I'm a fly princess."
"My housekeeper doesn't even live in houses like this."
"What about our diamonds?"
"I have to go tanning."

I can't say that I'll ever watch it again, mainly because I can never remember when shows are on (seriously, my sister had to remind me EVERY Tuesday via Facebook that LOST was on, and we're talking LOST here, folks!).

Thirdly, I'm watching repeats of Keeping Up with the Kardashians, and I love the fact that the big sisters are giving the younger sisters a talk about puberty and starting their first period. Seriously, I wish my big sister had done that for me. Instead, I had to make do with the book my mom bought for my twin and I to read. I remember this topic was discussed by the lovely Hipstercrite awhile back. Real quick, go read this post, A Brutally Embarrassing Coming-of-Age Story, and then come back (please?). Alright, now tell me, what was your experience with this time of your life like?

Finally, go check out the giveaway. Seriously. Do it. Otherwise McGriddle pants is going to walk away with the prize, and how is that any fun? Competition is good for the soul.

And since I hate posting without pictures, check out these two pics that I found while packing. My mom sent these to me at some point in time, and I forgot that I had them. Aren't they great?

The little boy is my grandfather, and the baby is my great-aunt. My grandfather passed away when I was really young, so I barely knew him. My great-aunt passed away last year, unfortunately I barely knew her as well because... well, I'm not really sure why. We just never saw her. It's good to have these pics though.

Anywho... enjoy your Thursday. Can you believe it's almost Friday already? Where the hell does the time go?

Stevie Nicks and Courteney Cox can read my mind

                       
Strangely enough (or maybe not) the idea/topic/issue of Friends with Benefits (FWB) has been very much present in my life lately. I'll give you a couple of examples...

1. Co-Worker has been regaling me with tales of her so-called dating life. This life involves not one, not two, but three FWBs, although she insists she's only sleeping with two of them. I tend to think she's just too embarrassed to tell me she slept with Fatso Virgin, who I suspect is no longer a virgin. Thanks to her. I know she's hooking up with Receding Hairline Musician, despite the fact that she thinks he's lame and short and chubby (it should be noted, Co-Worker could politely be described as chubby too). And despite the fact that she keeps insisting that this time she's not going to sleep with him. Sure. I also know she's hooking up with Douche-bag from the City, who, from the sounds of it, is a Grade A douche-bag. 
2. My former housemate, Aimless Adventurer, has also been involved in some recent FWB situations. I know less details about her experiences, but I do know that one dude, Mr. Business, lives in Seattle. SEATTLE! We live in NY. I don't think I have to explain the problem there. Although, now that I think about it, I'm not sure this one can technically qualify as FWB since the 'B' isn't actually taking place. Regardless, I do know of at least two other FWBs in her life. (or were. She recently moved.)

I could give you more examples, but those two should be plenty, especially since this post isn't about outlining all the 'B' people in my life are receiving right now. It's about the fact that Stevie Nicks and Courteney* Cox were able to read my mind.

On my way home from work, after an informative discussion with Co-Worker about her relationships, or lack thereof, I was reflecting on bits and pieces of our conversation. For example, how can you enjoy the benefits of the FWB without feeling like a whore? How do you deal with the fact that your 'F' is super awesome during the 'B' time but non-existent in your life the rest of the time?** Well, this is when Stevie came on the radio and answered my questions...

In case you missed it, or in case you could care less about watching the video...

"Thunder only happens when it's raining

Players only love you when they're playing"

Ah... thanks Stevie. Those are words every woman should remember. I felt like calling Co-Worker up and making her listen. At this point, I had concluded that FWB is a situation that just can't work out. One 'F' is bound to get more attached to the other 'F' and things just get all shitty and go downhill fast at that point. True story.

I was feeling a bit bummed out about my realization. Not because I felt bad for Co-Worker, but because, in the grand scheme of things, I would like to believe that Casual Sex, and more specifically, FWB, can work. I also naively believe that men and women can be friends without sex and romantic feelings getting involved and muddying the whole thing up. Let me reword that, straight men and women. I'm still working on proving this theory (for the record, I'm having some success with this. For example, I've been friends with Unfortunate Guy for 9 years or so now and sex and romantic feelings have never been an issue. Not even when there was alcohol involved. See? So I'm convinced it can happen). 

At any rate, feeling bitter about the world of... well, the world of... shit, I don't know what to call it. Moving on. 

Since the thesis has been more-or-less done*** I've reintroduce myself to Wednesday night TV. I'm actually quite impressed with three new shows on ABC's lineup, The Middle, Modern Family and Cougar Town (Happy Town? Jury's still out on this one. I'm inclined to decline because ABC pitches this show as the next LOST. You can't pitch a show as the next anything. Especially not LOST. Doing that pretty much guarantees the show will fail. Like they could ever replace LOST.)

So, I was watching Cougar Town, which, in case you weren't aware, stars Courteney Cox, and as it turns out, the episode was about FWB. Long story short, CC's character, Jules, and this dude, Grayson, enter the forbidden territory of FWB (actually, I think they entered last week, but whatev'). They basically agree that despite the bad track record of FWBs, they can make it work because they won't make the mistakes others have made. You know where this is headed right? Needless to say, Jules falls for Grayson, admits to him that she wants more, he tells her that he didn't "sign up" for more and that ends that. 

Or so I thought. The episode ends with Grayson crossing the street (they're neighbors) and kissing Jules in a way that says, "I was wrong. I want more too. Let's DO this!" So, see? I was RIGHT! FWB can totally work! Oh. No, wait a minute. That's not right. Fuck! How did I think this restored my faith in FWB being doable? Sonofabitch. Back to the drawing board.

* Is it just me, or is this just about the most fucked up way to spell her name?

** For the record, I already knew the answer to these questions.

***

Blue-Eyed Pea: For the love of God, do you think she'll ever stop talking about that goddamn thesis?

Brown-Eyed Pea: Doesn't look that way, huh?

Blue-Eyed Pea: Fuck me.

Brown-Eyed Pea: (eyebrow wiggle)

Blue-Eyed Pea: You have a very dirty mind.

Brown-Eyed Pea: Hey, you brought it up.

I don't care if you're on your deathbed... IT'S LOST!

                                  

SPOILER ALERT!!! DON'T READ THIS POST UNTIL YOU HAVE WATCHED THE LATEST EPISODE OF LOST!!!

Normally, I don't blog about TV recaps. However, last night's episode was fan-freakin'-tastic! Of course, I felt like I needed to share with someone how awesome and amazing the episode was. Normally, I share with my sister. During commercial breaks. And afterward too. For like, an hour. I couldn't do that last night. Here's why:

(this conversation took place via the technological wonders of texting)

Me: why was Desmond on their plane?

Sister: Not watching. Very sick.

Me: what? are you full of shit? i don't care if youre on your deathbed... ITS LOST! and it has DESMOND in it.

Me: AND CHARLIE

       AND CLAIRE

Sister: No tv in bathroom. Will watch online later.

Me: SHUT UP!!! well, I hope you are feeling better soon...

Sister: Thanks.

Me: are you pukey?

Sister: Yes.

Me: OMG!!! Best episode ALL season!!!

Sister: Bitch.

Okay, now that you're all caught up, let me explain why this was the Best episode ALL season!!!:

1. Desmond is featured in this episode. Desmond is one of my Top Ten favorite Lost characters. (I haven't actually made this list, but I'm thinking I might have to now)

2. Charlie is in this episode. Charlie. As in, CHARLIE!!! I ♥ Charlie.

3. Flashback to the saddest moment in the history of Lost. When Charlie died. And Desmond couldn't help him. I cried. I cried again tonight. Here, I know you want to cry too, so watch this:

4. Claire is in this episode. As in pre-crazy Claire. As in sweet, naive, pregnant Claire. I miss that Claire.

5. No Locke. Thank god, 'cause I was getting tired of him. And Jack. We only had a brief sighting of Jack, which irked me, but I guess it could have been worse. (I'm beginning to think it's written into Matthew Fox's contract that he must appear in every episode. He's such an episode-whore)

6. Lost's lovable losers were looking for love. Everyone together now, awwww.... How sweet was it that all the men who actually deserve to be loved and happy (Read: Not Jack) are realizing that somewhere, out there, is a woman for them? And not only that, but THEY'VE ALREADY MET! Talk about soul mates. (if only I believed...)

7. Upham Daniel returns. It took me a very, very long time to get over the appearance of Jeremy Davies after what he did in Saving Private Ryan, but I learned to love the guy, and it was good to see him back again. It means we're about to get all quantum physics-ie again soon. I missed that. I don't understand it, but I missed it.

8. The mystery is back. I feel like this episode was a throw-back to the good ole days of last season when Lost still had you sitting on the edge of your seat. You know, when you would yell at the TV and couldn't contain the physical anxiety all the drama was creating and would bounce around the room like a four year old cracked out on sugar? When you would actually converse with the characters on screen as if they could hear you? Remember those days? No? Just me? Okay then...

9. No Ben. My sister will disagree with me on this one, but Ben is one whiny little bitch. He irritates me. 

And there you have it. My reasons for last night's episode of Lost being the best one all season. And just for fun, here's the conclusion to the conversation with my sister:

Me: i can't believe i can't discuss this with you! im fracking [sic] out all by myself!

Sister: Text [person]. He watched.

Me: yeah, but he doesnt care and he just wont get it! its not the same. im pouting, btw.

Sister: Sorry to ruin your night. Mine is worse right now.

Me: you're not preggars again, are you?

Sister: Hell no! I dont get sick then. More than puking but will spare u the details.

Me: sounds like fun!

(In hindsight, I think I may have been a little insensitive to my sister's plight, but, hello! It's Lost! And she wasn't watching it! And it was the best episode ALL SEASON! Now I'm going to have to wait until she watches it before I can discuss it with her and then I'm going to forget all my current excitement and it just won't be the same.)

The tickets are now diamonds!

 

(Please forgive me for the plethora of lame-o post lately. In case you didn't know, I'm knee deep in thesis work, so right now, somethings gotta give.)

 

I love this commercial.

I need adult supervision.

  

For example, it's 5:30pm on a Monday* and I may or may not be pretty freakin' buzzed. Actually, I'd say that's a pretty fair assessment, which reminds me of this post. Why? Because the circumstances are pretty freakin' similar.

Which brings me back to the main point of this post- I need adult supervision. Well, maybe not in the sense that I need an adult in the room when I use a knife ('cuz Lord knows I learned my lesson regarding knives years ago. Me and sharp objects DO NOT get along. Same goes for me and stairs, and doors, and narrow hallways, and high heels...). 

What I mean is, without another adult in my life, I fail to function properly. Let's ignore the fact that I still can't figure out how to zip up my pants after using the bathroom (yeah, I'm THAT teacher) or the fact that all my footwear are sans laces because I never learned how to properly lace a shoe (seriously, do they go under? over? I just don't get it!). Instead, let's focus on some other areas. 

I really, really enjoy living on my own, but without other adults in my life...

• my diet would consist entirely of oatmeal, grapefruit, Good N Plenty, whiskey and ginger ale, microwave popcorn and beer. Bam! That's breakfast, lunch and dinner right there. Done. It is only through eating meals with other adults that I remember things like vegetables, or meat, or, I guess it could be argued, real food.

• I would eat many things I shouldn't and totally suffer for it later. Like cake, which has eggs in it, which I can't eat. But, unless there's someone else around to say, "Oh, hey, April, it's too bad you can't eat this cake because it has eggs in it," I WILL TOTALLY EAT THAT CAKE. And then I'll spend the rest of the day throwing up. And then I'll have another slice for breakfast. I'm sure you can figure out what comes next. Good for you. You're ahead of me, because apparently I manage to block that part out every time I am left unattended and there is free cake in the room.

• I forget to check the mail. First of all, the post office is pretty far out of my way. Like, all the way across town. It is only through my conversations with other adults that I remember that checking the mail is something I need to do... frequently. As in, more than once every two weeks. Granted, most of my mail is junk mail, but every now and again there is something important in the mail. Like free stuff. Or W-2s. Or important stuff regarding car insurance and your bank beginning to charge $8/month for your checking account previously known as, "free-checking". Which reminds me, I have yet to switch my bank and I still need to contact my insurance company...

• I forget to take my vitamins. And birth control. I know. It's awful, but unless I have someone asking me daily, "Did you take your vitamins today?" I forget that that is something I need to do. And unless I'm involved in regular sexual activity with another adult, it does not occur to me to take my birth control regularly. Please, don't judge. And, might I add, that shit costs money, and unless you're having regular sex, that monetary expenditure might not seem as necessary as, say, ginger ale and whiskey. (and yes, I know you can get free birth control from Planned Parenthood, but have you ever been to one of those? If you're having sex, they pretty much treat you like a whore, at least in my experience they do, and who needs that in their life?)

• I wouldn't pick things out of the trash. Okay, I totally pick things out of the trash, but who in their right mind throws away a toilet paper roll when there is still toilet paper on the roll? And when no one in your house is capable of purchasing toilet paper, this sort of thing is basically a sin. And furthermore, that vitamin that fell into the trash can this morning only touched paper, so, in my opinion, it's totally okay to pick it out and consume it. Just be thankful I remembered to take it this morning. 

• I wouldn't eat things I find in my bed. Living on my own, I indulge in one of my favorite bad habits... eating in bed. As a result, I sometimes come across random pieces of food in my bed. Like popcorn, Good N Plentys(ies?) and stuff that initially looks like food, but upon consumption of said items I find myself spitting them out into my garbage can in complete and utter disgust. And then I question whether or not I'm normal. I suspect I'm grosser than your average bear.

• I would dress like a total slob. We're talking holey jeans and t-shirts that are 3 sizes too big for me. I find that most of the time I don't dress for myself. When I get dressed in the morning, I always consider how many adult-like people I will be encountering that day. As well as the level of importance said people have on important aspects of my life. Like my career. As the number and level decreases, so does the style and cleanliness of my outfit. You saw what happened on laundry day, right? 

• I would be less motivated in life. Not that I'm entirely motivated by other adults, but if they weren't in my life, I might not care if I have a full time job. Or health insurance. And I certainly wouldn't feel pressured to procreate or guilty for not wanting to right now. I would be perfectly content maintaining my current state of perpetual limbo if it weren't for pressure from other adults. 

Alright, well I think that's enough for now. I think my brain just quit. I also need a refill. It's okay. I'm on vacation. Have a good one, and since I feel like I need to include a picture in all my posts, enjoy this pic of me wearing free stuff.

(Quick! What show am I watching?)

* Yeah, you caught me. I'm pre-blogging or blogging ahead of time. What of it? I'm a busy girl. Procrastination doesn't just happen on its own, you know.

He has returned!

     

Ah, life is good. Yes, everything in the world is right again. Christian Slater has returned to television. My prayers have been answered.

   

Seriously, I love Christian Slater. Alright, maybe not love, but I'm definitely, seriously infatuated with him. Ever since Will Scarlett chanted those magical words, "What a dope! He tripped on a rope! Now look at him shiver!" I was hooked. Maybe it was his sardonic humor or maybe it was those deviously squinty eyes, but regardless of what it was, I just CAN'T. GET. ENOUGH. 

         

I know some would cite Heathers as Christian's first (only) memorable role, but I was a mere eight years old when that movie came out, so I'm pretty sure I didn't see it until at least three or four years later, long after Will Scarlett stole my heart. Ah, Will Scarlett. Who didn't cry with him when he revealed to Robin that they were brothers and pleaded, "And what I want to know brother, is will you stay with us and finish what you started?" The tears well up just thinking about it (damn you, Kevin Costner, you don't deserve a brother). He introduced me to my first fuck, as in, "Fuck me, he cleared it!" (Sigh) And when he's being tortured in the dungeon and "turns" on Robin... (sigh) it was love.

       

I'll admit, Mr. Slater hasn't always had the greatest roles or chosen the best movies to be a part of (ahem, Bed of Roses? Really? Mary Stuart Masterson? Really? I can appreciate your romantic side, Mr. Slater, but who falls in love with Mary Stuart Masterson?). But he won me over again and again as Arkansas Dave and George Kuffs (and, hello! Milla Jovovich!). Gotta love that bad boy attitude!

    
But then I lost track of Christian for awhile (about ten years, to be more specific. Ten years of movies I've never even heard of, He Was a Quiet Man? What's that about?). In 2008 though, he returned in what I considered to be the best show on television*, My Own Worst Enemy, where he played not one, but TWO main characters. Score! But, ooh! Those geniuses at NBC had to go and cancel the show. Way to go NBC!

        

Fast forward to 2010 and switch the channel to ABC, and we have, The Forgotten. I have to admit, I haven't actually had the chance to watch this show yet. Unfortunately it airs after my other favorite show, Lost. (As soon as those credits roll, my sister and I are on the phone comparing notes and talking theories about our favorite island dwellers.) What I have seen of The Forgotten has been a muted Christian Slater. But I'm okay with that. At least he's back, and one of these nights I'm sure I'll catch the entire show. (Seriously, check out that scruff and those eyes, all wrapped up in a blue jean, leather-clad package. Yum!)

*but only after Lost, which is, of course, the best show on television.