Jules, Julie, and Julia

I happened to thoroughly enjoy the movie "Julie and Julia".

Well, I thoroughly enjoyed the Julia parts, anyway. I get the feeling that the Julie character is somewhat annoying...

Anyway, of course this made me want to try cooking from Julia Child's cookbook. Well, guess who got Mastering the Art of French Cooking for Christmas? Me! Me!

So, I think we should make a new movie: Jules, Julie, and Julia. Julia writes the cookbook, Julie reads the cookbook and blogs about it, Jules watches the movie and...totally messes up every recipe in the book. Because, let's face it, that's what's going to happen.

Doesn't THAT sound exciting?

Merry Christmas?

One of my students gave me this: a giant peppermint stick.

Well, the official name of it is "Big Mint Stick". (Ah, the creativity of these candy-makers astounds me. Somehow, I don't think Willy Wonka had anything to do with creating this one.)

What do I do with a Big Mint Stick? It's huge! So far, the only thing I can think of is to suck on one end of it until it becomes dangerously pointy. Then I'll hang it by my door, right next to the anti-rape alarm and the studly picture of John Stamos. That way, if anyone happens to make it past both the alarm and Uncle Jesse, he'll get a minty stake through the heart.

The name has to be changed, though. The "Big Kill-The-Intruder Stick"? I'll work on it.

Any better ideas?

I Do NOT Remember Him!

Do you ever have what I like to refer to as "sitcom moments"? Like, you run into someone who has man hands or you invite an alien to be your roommate? This kind of stuff happens to me all the time!

I mean, ahem, my roommate is not an alien. *Shifty eyes* (Your secret is still safe, Taren. Phew!)

Well, I had one of those "Friends" moments the other day. Do any of you remember this gem with Brad Pitt? Even if you don't, you're going to be treated to it right now, thanks to the magic of YouTube:

Oh, Brad. *Sigh* Why did you hook up with Angelina?! WHY?!!

Not important. Here's the "Friends" moment that showed up in my life a little while ago: this dude Will hates Rachel, and she doesn't even remember him.

Let's switch over to my life now, where the people are not quite as funny or attractive, but they also aren't quite as devoid of morals, so it all balances out.

I was hanging out with one of my friends, who we'll call Jim. (Names have been changed, just for fun.)

Jim: Do you remember Juan from choir?

Me: Juan? Um...nope. I'm drawing a complete blank. Who?

Jim: Juan. You really don't remember him?

Me: No. Not at all.

Jim: Well, he certainly remembers you.

Me: What does that mean?

Jim: He doesn't like you at all.

Me: What?! Why?!

Jim: Apparently he asked you out and you totally shut him down. He thinks you're a total (insert not so kind word here).

Me: That's so sad! I don't even remember that at all!

Jim: Well, knowing Juan, he probably mumbled it so you didn't even hear it.

How sad! Some kid I don't even remember hates me! I'm distraught about this. I like to think I'm a semi-likeable person, but my enemies list seems to be growing, especially after those anti-Robert Pattinson blog posts I wrote.

And, just in case you're reading this, Robert, I don't dislike YOU. I just don't think you're very good-looking. We can still be friends, though!

Oh well. You're still my friend, right? Right?

Anyone?

*Crickets chirp*

Fortunately.

Nerdy Jules Fact #1:  I collect fortunes.  Yes, that's right; fortune cookie fortunes.

I don't know why I do this, but it's a habit that I've come to accept.  Every time I eat at a Chinese restaurant, I write down the date on the back of the fortune and put it in my wallet.  I just want to see if any of these fortunes end up coming true.

I started writing the dates down a few years ago.  My family and I were at a Chinese buffet for some reason or another.  (It must have been some very fancy event:  we were at a buffet, after all.  "Is it okay if I get some Lo Mein?"  "Honey, you can eat as much Lo Mein as you want.  We spare no expense here.")

ANYway...

My brother Brandon and I had just decided that we were going to chill that night, since we had nothing better to do.  Then we cracked open our fortune cookies.  I don't remember what his said, but mine was this:

"The evening promises romantic interests."

Hmmmmm.  Needless to say, this one did not come true.

But, that doesn't mean that other fortunes don't come true!  I mean, I got this gem a couple of years ago:

"You and your spouse will be happy in your life together."

Okay, so this hasn't happened YET, but I have high hopes that somewhere in the distant future this will become a reality!  Then I'll have to write some sort of letter to those random people who work themselves to the bone everyday brainstorming new phrases that will be perfect for the the crunchy cardboard-flavored fortune cookies that bring the world such joy!

Dear Fortune Writers,

You've done it!  You have successfully predicted my fortune, and I thank you for it.  I am going to request that your boss raises your wage from $7.50 an hour to $7.65.  No need to thank me.  You just get back to typing out those fortunes.  Oh, and please stick to fortunes.  I don't need any more truisms (ex. "Your thoughts are highly regarded.") or helpful advice (ex. "Visit a park.  Enjoy what nature has to offer.).  I would just appreciate it if you would continue to accurately predict my future.

Much love,

Jules

Now, maybe I'll send this letter if my fortune from yesterday comes true:

"A bold and dashing adventure is in your future."

Dashing, eh?  Sounds exciting and...British-ish.  I'm in.

Have any of you ever had your fortune come true?

I'm just SHO EXSHITED!!

Ahem.  Friends and family, there truly are Christmas miracles.   BEHOLD!

Before

(I feel that this photo of my mom and me particularly showcases the ghetto-ness of my formerly crooked teeth. )

During

My final night of braces....

AFTER!

It's a Christmas miracle!!  I went in to the orthodontist and he said, "How do you feel about your teeth?"

"...Good.  There are a couple of things that aren't completely perfect.  Is that going to be a problem?"

"Well, I could keep the braces on for another month and tweak things, if you like...."

"TAKE 'EM OFF!  TAKE 'EM OFF!"

I was just so excited!  Then he informed me that I have to wear a retainer 24 hours a day for the next year.

I'm not so excited about that part.  (Make sure you read that sentence with a spitty voice, since I now have the wonderful retainer lisp.)  *Sigh*  The sacrifices we make for self-improvement....

Eeeew.

I don't care how popular Glee! is.  I would rather die than be in a show choir.  *Shudder*  And I'm a choir teacher, so that says something.

Speaking of choir, we have our Christmas concert tonight.  Wish me luck.

This one time....

Do you ever feel like you're boring or unadventurous?

I was on a date once with a guy who asked, "What's the craziest thing you've ever done?"

Hmmmm. Think, think, think. Ooh! Maybe I could talk about that one time in high school when I skipped class.... Wait. That doesn't count because I got my teacher to excuse me, first. I know! I could tell him about that one night when I randomly drove to Wendover with some friends and...walked around the casinos. THAT would be an exciting story.

It was at this moment that I realized how incredibly boring I am. Sure, I'd always had a sneaking suspicion that I was somewhat bland, but as I sat there eating my Thai Red Curry--the same thing I always get at Thai restaurants, I might add--I suddenly knew that I was just a boring person. The kind of person who might spend her Saturday nights blogging, for example.

You know what's funny about this whole thing? I've tried to be a good girl my whole life. And what do I have to show for it now? Well, I certainly don't have any amusing anecdotes to bring up during a date. That's for sure!! What good is a happy life if you don't have street cred? Am I right?

Well, from here on out this is going to change. I'm going to be dangerous!! (After all, if you mix up the letters in my last name, it spells TROUBLE!!! I'm so darn clever.)

Here is a list of all of the rebellious things I've done today:

I didn't buckle my seatbelt until nearly ten minutes AFTER I started driving.

I skipped the gym and decided to eat chocolate instead.

I didn't make my bed or fold my clothes. HA!

That's my list so far. Yes, my friends, I'm on my way to having all sorts of fun stories to tell at those wild parties I'm going to start attending.

Maybe We Can Find a Banana For Your Monkey

"Now, generally I'd hesitate about passing an opinion about somebody's kid, but even if I don't say it, it's an ugly baby."

--Flip Wilson

I realize that someone is going to burn me at the stake for saying this, but I don't think newborn babies are cute. I just don't. Every single one, without exception, (yes, that includes yours) looks like some sort of alien or monster.

(Good grief! A 19 pound baby! Gross.)

Granted, some are better-looking than others, but they're all ugly.

Really, though, how could you expect a brand new baby to be cute? The little dear has sat in a tummy for 9 months, only to be brought into the world via a tiny, goo-covered passage-way. It's not exactly a pretty process. It's only natural that the poor thing is going to look like a lizard for a while.

So, please don't show me a picture of your fresh-out-of-the-oven child, complete with the wrinkled-up face all covered in goo, and expect me to gush about how beautiful he/she is. I won't.

Now, if you show me a picture several months later, I will definitely be gushing.

(Aw. See? Not wrinkled and goo-covered now. At the moment, anyway.)

Of course, all of MY babies will be completely gorgeous, right? So I will be showing you all of the pictures of the fetus and goo and naked bathtub photos. And you'd better gush over them, so help me.

*Sarcasm intended.

Robert: Round Two

Okay. I'm sure you're all tired of hearing about anything Twilight-related, but I have one more post to do. My deepest apologies, but I feel like I have to defend myself. Even though I realize no one will ever read this.

A little while back, I went on a tiny rant about Robert Pattinson being a huge sex symbol. I personally do not understand the hype behind the Twilight movies in general, and I certainly don't understand why Pattinson was chosen to play Edward Cullen, a character who is supposed to be the most handsome and perfect man ever, according to Stephenie Meyer. I just think Pattinson is blah. And, frankly, if he wasn't chosen to play the role of Edward, the entire world would continue to think he was just blah. But, because he happened to be cast as a character that millions of tweens and middle aged women have been fantasizing about for the past few years, Pattinson has become the obsession of millions.

Does no one else find this annoying?! And strange, for that matter? I think it's strange when women and men go up to Pattinson and ask him to bite them. Even stranger is that he actually bites them.

Friggin' creepy.

I'm going off on a tangent, though. Back to the point.

After I posted this little rant about Pattinson, I got a lot of comments from people who were obviously doing a Google image search for good ol' Rob. Since many of these comments are from Anonymous commenters, or from people who will never stop by my blog again, I won't have a chance to respond to their lovely comments. So, I might as well get it off my chest by blogging. :-) Teehee! Here's a random sampling of some of the more choice comments:

From Anonymous:

WTF EVER!! By looking at avatar pics, Pattinson looks waaaay better then everyone that has left a comment on this page!!I seriously doubt he would find any of you attractive either!!

haters!! pattinson is gorgeous.

First of all, I have no idea what "WTF ever" means. (And, I apologize for those of you who don't enjoy the phrase "WTF". I'm only quoting this time.) Secondly, I'm sure Robert Pattinson would NOT find me attractive. I definitely agree. But, I'm not the one doing a huge spread for Vanity Fair, am I?

(Can anyone say Special Needs? I think he's waiting for the short bus. But, I guess he's cute, if you like that sort of thing.)

When people start calling me the sexiest woman alive, buying posters of me, and fainting whenever my name is mentioned, then I fully expect to have hundreds of bloggers posting horrible pictures of me. (And, believe me, there are plenty to be had.)

From Anonymous:

Isn't this when he was wayy younger, and plus I agree photoshop, ROB IS HOT!

You caught me. I was using Photoshop to try to make Robert Pattinson look ugly, all as part of my evil smear campaign. That's what I do in my spare time, after all. I put the heads of celebrities on bodies of eight-year old girls. Then I giggle to myself. (Actually this is supposedly from a photo shoot he did when he was a lot younger. I'll give you that. And, truth be told, this very well could be some Photoshop mock up someone else did, but I can show you hundreds of terrible pictures of Rob that still bring my point across.)

And, finally, from Lola-Grace:

Robert Pattinson would NEVER pose for a photo if he looked like that, it's clearly photoshop. It's ridiculous that any of you actually believed that. And even more ridiculous that you would post a blog just to say you think someone is ugly. Would you honestly post a blog saying how ugly you thought your next door neighbour was? Pretty cruel really.

Thanks for your comment, Lola. I have a few things to say to you.

A) First of all, here are some more of these creepy young Rob in his underwear pics. It appears that he did indeed pose for them. And, yes, I realize that he's young, so he's obviously not going to be all sexy or whatever. I don't care! It's weird! (Of course, that's just from my 20 seconds of Google searching, so it could all be fake. I'm not going to devote any more research to that.)

B) Why do we have to point out that the bad photos of Rob are "clearly done with Photoshop"? Do you think this photo of him wasn't Photoshopped?

Or this?

OR THIS?!!

I could just as easily say, "Oh, come on. I can't believe any of you actually believe he really looks like that. It's clearly Photoshop." I'm just saying.

C) Why is it so ridiculous to post about some not being attractive? There are hundreds, if not thousands, of blogs devoted to posting about how beautiful Robert Pattinson is. Is it really so ridiculous that I dedicate one post (okay, two and a half posts) to pointing out that Pattinson really isn't as attractive as all of the hype leads us to believe? Perhaps, but what might be even more ridiculous is to be searching for Pattinson pictures, and leaving comments on a random girl's blog. That might be even a little MORE ridiculous. Then again, it could be a little more ridiculous for me to be devoting an entire post to arguing with anonymous commenters. *Shrug* I could go on and on. The point is that you and I are both being a little ridiculous, Lola.

D) Finally, let me point out one more thing. I don't believe that it is cruel to say I don't personally think Robert Pattinson is deserving of all of the attention he is getting. He's definitely more attractive than the average person on the street, but he's an actor. It's part of his JOB to be attractive. And, no, I most likely would not post about my next-door neighbor being ugly for a few reasons:

--I don't think I even know what my next-door neighbor looks like. (Us basement-dwellers don't fraternize much with the Above-grounders.)

--I don't think that blog post would be entertaining. (It might, though, depending on how ugly my next-door neighbor is. If he looks anything like Sloth, I might have some blogging gold on my hands! Thanks for the idea, Lola!

--MY NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR IS NOT BEING HAILED WORLDWIDE AS A SEX SYMBOL!!! The minute that happens, I will definitely be blogging about it and posting several unattractive photos. Just you wait.

*Deep breath* Okay. I think I'm done. I guess I get a little irritated when people comment about how I could make the world a better place if I stopped being so cruel. This blog is entitled A Hermit's Ranting Tantrums, which connotes that it will be a collection of posts about things that bovver me. If you want something a little different, please feel free to visit my new blog. (Please go visit that "bovver me" link, by the way. Oddly enough, I think Jimmy Fallon is a more attractive Robert Pattinson than Robert Pattinson is.)

No worries. I'll get off the Twilight tangent before I post again. :-)

Silly Vampire.

Gather round, boys and girls. I just got back from watching the 9:00 am showing of New Moon, and you know what that means!

*Jules dusts off her movie soap box and climbs aboard.*

It's time for some good ol' movie reviewing!

Now, I wasn't originally intending to go see New Moon opening day. I was thinking I should wait until it came to the dollar movie, mainly so I didn't give any more of my pennies to support the Twilight Saga movie franchise. But, then I did a little checking on rottentomatoes.com, and saw that New Moon got a whopping 29%. (That number has gone up a bit now, I see. I guess the midnight-showing people must have gotten online and boosted the ratings since last night.) Twilight, which was a horrible film, got a 49% on the same website.

Do the math. New Moon has a 20% lower percentage, which means that it has a 73% chance of making me laugh 43% more than Twilight did. Or it could just suck. Hard.

That's why it's better to go to an early bird showing and get a discount, right? Right.

How about I break it down into a pros and cons type of list, hmmm?

Pro:

• They got someone else to do the music, (Alexandre Desplat, who has done some good stuff with Golden Compass and Curious Case of Benjamin Button) and this really helped. My ears weren't assaulted by a constant drone of cheesy, over-dramatic 1980's electric guitar music. Instead, they got to listen to over-dramatic string music. And I am perfectly fine with that.
• There was plenty of this in the movie:

• Robert Pattinson wasn't in half the movie. Hooray!

Cons:

• Robert Pattinson was in half the movie. Boo! That meant you got to see a lot of this:

I'm having a hard time understanding why the producers decided that Edward Cullen, the vampire with the body that is supposedly chiseled out of marble, needed to keep his chest hair, while Jacob, the werewolf, got to be hairless. *Shrug*

• Unfortunately, Kristen Stewart was in the whole movie. Of course, this could be a pro, if you're into that whole awkwardly delivering lines in a slow monotone voice thing. I'm just the type of person who appreciates good acting. Call me crazy.

Well, I'll stop now. But, I am going to leave you with the best New Moon spoof I've seen. Please watch the trailer first (which, coincidentally, is all you'll need to see to get the gist of New Moon), and then watch the spoof. It's great.

Gobble Gobble

So, it's no secret that I am not exactly the queen of domesticity. I'm pretty sure that if I wanted any chance at all to be allowed into the Royal Court of the Domestically-Inclined I would have to be the Court Jester or something.

Sometimes, I forget this. Today was one of those days.

I'm in charge of planning activities in my ward, and this week we decided to have a Thanksgiving Potluck. Guess who volunteered to cook the turkey? Guess who has no idea how to cook a turkey?

Oooh! Ooooh! Me!! Pick me!! *Jules jumps up and down, frantically waving her hand in the air.*

And, while I'm at it, why don't I make a sweet potato casserole? Yes. That sounds like a brilliant idea. This is going to be great, Jules.

(These must have been my thoughts, if I was thinking at all.)

And so it was that I found myself in the kitchen today, struggling to fit both a sweet potato casserole and a turkey in an oven that was too small. And this was after I a) realized that I don't own a potato peeler, b) realized that peeling sweet potatoes with a knife is hard, and c) realized that my lack of potato-peeling skills will likely keep me out of the army. Oh. I also realized that sweet potato peels clog up the garbage disposal.

DRAT.

No worries, though. I figured that all out and got everything cooked. Surprise: the turkey was so pretty...until I carved it.

Yes. Carved. That is an excellent word to describe how I delicately cut the succulent meat.

Who am I kidding? I brutally massacred it. I tried to be all delicate and junk, but then I just got frustrated, ripped the legs off and hacked the breasts off. It was a terrible scene of turkey carnage.

(I'm sorry for the graphic images that may have just been conjured up in your mind. I hope there are no children present. )

Despite all of this, the turkey ended up being a success! Hopefully the people in my ward don't all get salmonella. That would be nice.

Oh, and I hope you're reading this, Daddy, because you will be so proud of me. I figured out how to unclog the garbage disposal--all by mine self! (Well, with a little help from the internet, too.)

Am I still the Court Jester of the Domestic Court? Probably, but the whole thing could have gone a lot worse....

Oh, Imogen. I love you.

My love for Imogen Heap has increased ever so much.

If you don't know her stuff, you really need to go check it out. Go. Leave this blog, listen to some of her stuff, and report back to me.

Ok, you can stay if you want to. I don't mind. Imogen might not be your cup of tea, anyway. Here's an example of one of her performances, for those of you who haven't gotten to experience her live. (And, yes, her outfit is very different. Give her a break. She's "creative".)

She played a show on Thursday, and I am so happy I got to go. She was fantastic. I did have one problem with the show, though....

Drunk people.

I don't understand why you would pay to go to a concert and then pay more money to get completely wasted. Chances are you won't really remember the show the next day, and you're going to ruin the concert for the rest of the audience. I think one of the funniest parts of the show was when some girl in the audience got fed up with the large group of inebriated people, and shouted out "SHUT THE *&%$ UP!" Then Imogen smiled and, in her cute British accent, said, "I couldn't have said it better myself." I felt like I was back at a high school assembly.

Humans are strange.

Yay America.

Happy Veteran's Day, everyone.

I have a confession: Someone had to tell me it was Veteran's Day. I feel so unpatriotic.

In an effort to make up for this, I am posting this very patriotic image:

Go America! I love you very much.

As part of my penance, I have a few other confessions:

I ate six muffins today.

Yesterday, my poor depth perception got the best of me, and I sort of scraped my car along the side of the house. That was not my brightest moment.

I'm tempted to give all of my students an A just so I don't have to deal with complaints or questions. (Does that make me a bad person?)

I secretly hope that I can win tickets to the midnight showing of New Moon. Part of me wants to see it, but I would rather not support it with my money.

Alright. That's enough confessions for one day. Do you think I'm forgiven? Just in case, here's another patriotic video!

Just Haven't Met You Yet

Taren showed me this music video the other day. Love it! It's definitely my new theme song.

I have a few thoughts:

1) Michael Buble's facial expressions concern me. He's cute and all, but there's just something about the darn faces he makes. I constantly feel uncomfortable when I watch him sing.

2) Where is this grocery store, and why am I not shopping there?!

3) The man's pants at 3:34 are also very concerning. That cut is getting precariously close to the nether-region. I don't know which genius in the wardrobe department thought it would be brilliant to put a pair of ripped, butt-tight pants on a dancing man, but every time I watch this I can't help feeling that something disastrous could happen at any minute.

That's all, really.

Oh, and Michael? It's true--you haven't met me yet. But just you wait. Once I find that extremely awesome grocery store, it's going to be magical.

Somebody Needs A Time Out

I would like to know what Elizabeth Lambert was thinking during this soccer game. Did the BYU players steal Elizabeth's boyfriend? Call her mean names? Eat the last of the Rocky Road at the pre-game ice cream social?

I can almost hear her thoughts before she grabbed the girl's pony tail. "That was MY ice cream. MINE!"

Come now, Elizabeth. That was just uncalled for. Now, if it had been BlueBell Homemade Vanilla, that would be a different story.

High Five!

I saw a very disturbing thing at Wal-Mart today. (I feel like that sentence is redundant. It would be surprising if I didn't see something disturbing at Wal-Mart.)

Anyway, let me introduce today's Wal-Mart wonder...

The "Gummy Candy Hand with Crunchy Bone Candy Inside!"
Yes, friends, this candy concoction weighs 1 1/2 pounds and is bigger than both of your hands put together. If you eat this whole thing, you will consume 1500 calories.

What the...?!

Who wants to eat a pound and a half of gummy candy shaped into a severed hand? And who wants to discover crunchy bone-shaped candy inside while they're munching on the flesh-colored gummy goo? Who sees that and thinks, "Oooh! Perfect. I'll pass this out to my trick-or-treaters. Or, perhaps I'll serve this to my guests at that classy Halloween shindig I'm throwing."

I mean, who in their right mind is going to buy such a useless.... Oh. It's 75% off? Well, I guess I could use this for something.

Damn you, Wal-Mart, and your falling prices.

Here we go....

Miracle of miracles! I sort of feel human today! Praise the Lord. I'm going to be very brave and attempt to teach some children today. The goal is to get through the day without throwing up, passing out, or bursting into tears. Lofty goals, I know.

I'm nervous. Wish me luck!

This is getting old.

I went to the doctor yesterday to get some antibiotics. Rock on. As I was leaving, they said, "If you don't feel better in 7 to 10 days, call us."

7 to 10 days? No offense, Doc, but if I'm not feeling better in a week, I think I'm calling Doctor Kevorkian instead.

I'm posting this picture before the paparazzi can publish it in the tabloids.

You know your neck is swollen when people actually notice it's fatter. I feel like all of the lymph nodes in my throat gave birth to new lymph nodes. Either that or my body is preparing to grow two new heads out of my neck.

Either way, I don't like it and I want it to stop.

On a good note, being sick means you don't have to get ready for the day, or care if you look like you just crawled out of some shallow grave.

Yes, I'm returning this movie to Blockbuster. Yes, I'm wearing pajama pants and flip flops and haven't done my hair or make up in three days. Got a problem?

My wonderful roomie just bought me push pops and ginger ale. That's true love right there. Thanks, Taren. I sure hope I don't give you this terrible virus, whatever it is.

This is my audition photo for America's Next Top Model. I hear Push Pops really want to sponsor next season.

Don't Judge Me. I'm Contaminated.

BLARGH.

I might be going a little crazy. Other than a trip to Wal-Mart yesterday and a quick stroll around the neighborhood this morning, I haven't left this basement in two days.

That is not good for my health. Or productivity. CURSE YOU, SICKNESS!! While everyone else is out there being all cool and getting the H1N1 Virus, I'm getting Bronchitis and Strep Throat. That probably means I'll get the Swine Flu in February or something when it's totally out of style.

I'm always behind on these trends.

Oh well. The good thing about sickness is that it makes any type of hermit behavior seem normal and admirable, even!

"I didn't go to church today because I didn't want to infect the innocent and very special people in the ward." "Good for you. Way to look out for others."

I know. I'm frickin' Mother Teresa.

So, while I'm stuck in my basement, I'll take the opportunity to watch the first season of Heroes, which I have been planning on watching for a few years. I've watched 11 in the course of two days. Pathetic, right? What makes it even more pathetic is that the site I'm using to watch it gives you a time limit and informs you when you've exceeded that limit. "You have watched 72 minutes of this show. Please wait 54 minutes."

Nothing makes you feel worse than when your computer says, "Haven't you had enough, young lady? Maybe you should go do something productive for the next hour."

Shove it, Mac. And bring me a popsicle.

Trick or Treat

Happy Halloween, everyone!

What did I do for this pagan holiday? Pretty much nothing, since my head feels like it's going to a splode. Not my favorite. So, instead of dressing up like a sexy kitty cat and going to some party with other girls dressed up as sexy versions of animals and common occupations, I stayed home with Taren and watched Prom Night.

Yeah, we're awesome.

Recipe

Sorry for not posting the cookie recipe before. Here it is:

Really Yummy Chocolate Chip Cookies from The Worldwide Ward Cookbook

(Note: While I typically don't support people who try to exploit the church for profit, I actually love this cookbook. It's got a lot of those comfort foods that I just love....)

1 lb. butter (no substitutes)

1 1/2 C. sugar

2 c. brown sugar

4 Tbsp. vanilla

3 eggs, beaten

2 Tbsp. baking soda

6 C. flour

4 C. chocolate chips

Cream the butter and sugars. Add vanilla, eggs, and soda. Blend in flour well. Fold in chocolate chips. Bake at 350 degrees for 5-7 minutes. Makes 4-5 dozen cookies.

I Like-A Cookie

I finally found a recipe for the most delicious, gooey chocolate chip cookies ever. They are so good! Only a couple of problems:

The recipe calls for a pound of butter and makes 5 dozen cookies.

Yikes.

Do you have any idea what I will do with that much cookie dough? Ideally, I would bake all of it up right now and use it as a way to bribe people into being my friends, but let's be realistic here. Me? Give up all that cookie dough?! NEVER! I will eat it all. If I don't, I'll constantly be thinking about eating it all.

Like I always say, the best way to avoid temptation is just to give in to it and eat all of the dough.

Yes, I always say that. *Shifty eyes*

So, until all that blasted dough is gone, my goals to start "Operation Turn Julianna Into A Really Hot Person By The Time Her Braces Come Off" might have to be put on hold.

Drat. Does anyone want a cookie or a dozen? Come on over.

Not So Politically Correct

This blog entry has been a while in coming. I found it in my drafts and decided that it was just sad to leave an entry unfinished and with no one to love. (I recently just finished reading Frankenstein, and it has left me with an odd sense of responsibility for those things I create. I wouldn't want my half-finished blog entry to go on a rampage and start terrorizing the other entries, now would I?)

But, I digress.

Anyway, it just so happens that it's time for A Hermit's Ranting Tantrums 2nd Healthy Living Spotlight! (Did you miss the first one? Well, go look at it! You're missing out on valuable information!)

Now, for those of you who don't know, for about a year I had the glorious opportunity of working at the Scrapbook Company-That-Must-Not-Be-Named, talking to scrapbooking fanatics. All day long. I don't know if any of you are avid scrapbookers or know any, but they can be a little...um...intense....



BUT CREATIVE and very attentive to detail!

This week's spotlight is inspired by one of those scrapbooking ladies.

This particular lady called one day to explain that she was having a hard time selling products because her son was "100% handicapped".

*Quizzical look* 100% handicapped? Is it really necessary to specify the exact percentage of a person's handicap level?

YES. Yes it is.

Leave it to a detail-oriented scrapbooker to be brilliant enough to realize that this is something we as a society should have started years ago! I mean, if people continue to just say, "Hey! I have a handicap and I need to be excused from my responsibilities," how are we supposed to know if the handicap is legit, and not just a reference to a poor bowling average? HOW?!

Since "change" seems to be a popular theme nowadays (BLEH!), I submit that it's time for a bit of reform.

We at HA are now proposing a completely new and effective system of handicap percentage calculation. This new system is perfect for all people, but specifically tailored to those of us who are supposedly "normal", but sometimes do handicap-ish things, like tripping over cracks in the sidewalk or mispronouncing the word "library". (Anyone want to go to the liberry? Anyone?) For example, one of my dear friends was concerned when a teacher in elementary school told his mother that he "has trouble with buttons". It's time this person found out how truly sort-of handicapped he is. Or perhaps these people need to find out how sort-of handicapped they are:



Oh, wait. That's me and my roomie. Ha ha ha...ha.... Ahem.

For your convenience, here is the official HA Sort-Of Handicapped Percentage Calculator. It's pretty simple (unless you struggle with simple math, in which case you will have a higher Sort-Of Handicapped Percentage anyway). Just look through the various sort-of handicapped traits and see which ones apply to you. Then add up your percentage points and VOILA! It's kinda like those quizzes you take in the tween magazines. Don't pretend you haven't taken one before. I know that you couldn't resist finding out if your ideal man is Jacob or Edward.



Which one?! How can I choose?!

(By the way, if you are seriously debating which of these two is right for you, I'm giving you a social handicap percentage of 97%. And you're not invited to my birthday party. Heart ya!)

Okay, without further ado, here is the:

HA SORT-OF HANDICAPPED PERCENTAGE CALCULATOR! (For adults 18 and older)

Daily Tasks--

I have trouble with buttons: 2%
I often wear my clothes inside out, and don't realize it until roughly 4:00 in the afternoon: 2%
I often forget to take tags and stickers off my clothes: 2%
I think blankets are hard: 5%
I get more food on my clothes than in my mouth: 7%
I don't "own a toothbrush": 17%

Personal Tastes--

I have a legitimate love for any of the following--Nickelodeon, the Disney Channel, Hannah Montana, The Jonas Brothers, Lil Bow Wow, High School Musical: 2%
My favorite animal is the chihuahua: 10%
My favorite car is my lime green Volkswagen New Beetle: 25%
I still secretly love the Goosebumps series: 5%
I love my knock-off brand Crocs and wear them everywhere I go: 5%
Transformers 2 is my favorite movie of all time: 10%

Miscellaneous--

I don't know how to use the correct form of there, their, they're, or your and you're: 7%
I don't know the difference between the Google bar and the URL address bar: 4%
I trip over my own shoes and constantly fall down stairs: 3%
I don't know who the Vice President of the United States is: 5%
There's such a thing as a Vice Presidentt of the United States?: 10%

How did you do? I hope this clears up any confusion in your life. Please feel free to submit any other sort-of handicapped attributes to the Hermit Association. We will be more than happy to update our list.

As always, fellow hermits, good luck out there.

Sincerely,

HA

Go back to the depths from which you came, foul beast!

The sewing machine is probably one of the most frustrating appliances I've ever dealt with.

All I wanted to do today was to sew a zipper on to a dress. JUST A ZIPPER. Should be easy, right? Nope. First of all, the last time I handled a sewing machine was in my eighth grade home economics class, and I'm pretty sure my teacher mentally murdered me after I broke three of the devil machines. I swear that I was doing everything that she taught me to do! I just have a complicated relationships with those things.

Hence, tonight's four-hour adventure with the zipper and the sewing machine.

Well, it wasn't so much an adventure as it was me trying to keep myself from screaming profanities.

"DAMN YOU, MACHINE!"

"Thread the bobbin. Thread the bobbin. THREAD THE @*$%&@*# BOBBIN!!"

"Zipper foot? What's a zipper foot, and where is it?!"

*Hysterical Crying*

"Um, Dad? Let's have some bonding time...while you help me figure out how to use this thing."

"WHY ARE YOU STILL NOT WORKING?!"

*Taking a break to eat a giant bowl of ice cream*

"DIE! DIE!!!!!!" *Jules grabs a sledge hammer and smashes the demon* MWHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!

Okay. I made that last part up.

No worries, though. I conquered the beast, and now my dress has a zipper! And, oddly enough, I have this urge to take up sewing.... I need to get my head examined.

Words of Wisdom from Nada Surf

Events of the past week or so have made me think of this fabulous song from Nada Surf--"Popular". I just love it, and it offers some great advice, particularly about dating. Ha ha. Love it.

Warning: This video gets sort of awkward at the end, what with the cheerleader and her boyfriend making out, so feel free to just listen and not watch. :-)

Oh, if we would just follow that break up rule, life would be so much easier! Then we wouldn't have to come up with creative ways to end something that's not working.



That's all I'm saying.

P.S. In a Google image search, I discovered this book. I kinda want to read it! It looks fun....

Short Letters to Inanimate Objects

Dear Dove "Go Fresh" Burst White Nectarine and Ginger Bodywash,

I'll be honest. When I first saw you, I had my doubts. That name is such a tongue-twister, and I have a hard time trusting soap that requires seven descriptive words. That all changed, though, when I got to know you. You smell delicious. I know I've only just met you, but I may have fallen in love. I hope my passionate declaration doesn't scare you off. I would hate for you to run out on me. (Ba doom ching!) See you in the shower tomorrow!


--Jules

Dear Recipe for Really Yummy Chocolate Chip Cookies,

WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN MY WHOLE LIFE? I have always wanted a recipe for the yummiest, gooiest chocolate chip cookies ever, and suddenly you appear. Sure, it's true that you contain a whole pound of butter, but I don't care. You just made my week.

--Jules

Dear Cold,

Shove it.

--Jules

The Funeral Services of Phil Beta

I'm a fish killer. I am a killer of fish. You know that you have problems when you can't even keep a Beta fish alive.



We are gathered here to mourn Phil the Beta. He died on Friday October 23, 2009, and is survived by his owner: me. She had high hopes of getting him into the prestigious underground fish fight club, but now those dreams have been shattered. Months of intense training are wasted, and the hearts of Phil's fans are broken.


Ode to Phil

Oh Phil, you were the greatest Beta fish.
You always did the best that you could do.
Now that you're gone I only have one wish;
That there's a bowl in heaven just for you.
I hope the fishy angels treat you well,
And that you always have enough to eat.
But if, somehow, you find yourself in hell,
Take care, my dear, and stay far from the heat.
In any case, I'll miss you, my fish friend.
I'll never find another just like you.
I'm sorry that your life came to an end.
I'll miss your fins of red and green and blue.

Here's to you, Phil. You will be missed. *Taps plays gently in the background as Phil is flushed down the toilet.*

*Sniff* Thanks for coming, everyone. Help yourself to the funeral potatoes.

Where have I been?

Is there such a thing as blogging narcolepsy? If there is, I have it. I'll be in the middle of creating a fabulous blog post, and then without warning I'll go into some catatonic state.

And the next thing I know it's a month later and I haven't posted anything. I blame the government. I'm sure they're behind it...somehow. I haven't quite figured out the motives behind the conspiracy, but I'll be sure to update you in my next post. Six months from now.

Would you like to know what I've been up to in the last month? Of course you don't, but I'm going to tell you, anyway. Here are several of my major accomplishments since the end of September:

1) I learned the Thriller dance during my class at the gym. Be impressed.

2) I got the annual bronchitis. Hooray. Life wouldn't be complete without the hacking cough and wheezing breaths. Thanks, Bronchitis. Thanks.

3) I finally broke down and cleaned out my purse when I tried to find my keys (which are on a gigantic keychain, by the way) and couldn't. I did, however, find the following items: an inhaler, a bottle of HEMPZ lotion (complete with a picture of a marijuana plant on the bottle), a lipstick tube-shaped pen from the Spy Museum in DC, an A 440 tuning fork, a toothbrush, toothpaste, Tic Tacs, a camera, a book, too many tubes of lipgloss, miscellaneous coins, old movie ticket stubs, receipts, an ipod, a Beethoven CD, and my gigantic wallet. Let's not even start talking about what was in my wallet. It's pathetic. And, lest you think that my purse is one of those huge bottomless Mary Poppins-style carpet bags, it's not. It looks like this:



(No, that is definitely not my real hair. I just got back from a Halloween party thing, so I'm still wearing a wig. Though, I could get used to the look. For the first time in my life I'm tempted to chop my hair off and dye it blonde. Would that make me a traitor to the brunette community?)

Anyway, my purse is clean. Ish.

4) Finally finished decorating my room! Yay! Maybe I'll post pictures.

5) Teaching, teaching, teaching. I do not get along with 4th graders.

You know what? Five is a good number. Let's stop with five and spare you from having to read more about the monotonous minutiae of my life. (Did you love that alliteration? Yeah, I remember what alliteration means. Rock on.)

I hope your life has been just has exciting as mine has been. It's a constant party over in Julianna-land, I tell you. Seriously. I'm going to go vacuum up some of the confetti. Peace.

I didn't get this kind of quality education in college.

Are you ready for your lesson from the kindergarteners?

Today's topic: Dating

I told the kids to go around the room and pick up imaginary sea shells. We've been talking a lot about the beach lately, mainly because I would rather be on the beach and I would rather live in an imaginary world, even if it means I have to drag several young children with me. :-) Oh, too much information? I'm sorry.

Well, after they found some sea shells, their assignment was to sing about what kind of shell they found. A lot of them mentioned that they found snail shells. (We have a fake snail friend in the class named Shurmy.) Still too much information? Deal with it.

Anyway, this is the conversation that ensued:

Girl #1: (sings) I found Shurmy's girlfriend.

Girl #2: (sings) I found Shurmy's other girlfriend.

Girl #1: (in a "no-you-didn't" sort of tone) Shurmy can't have two girlfriends.

Girl #2: He can have as many girlfriends as he wants!

Girl #1: Well, which one will he marry?

Girl #2: He'll marry mine because she wears jewelry.

Girl #1: Well, mine is rich!


At which point I stepped in and started singing a new song. I didn't want to have a cat fight break out over which imaginary snail girlfriend would be most suitable to marry the imaginary unfaithful snail boyfriend named Shurmy. Maybe I should have taken the time to teach them Carrie Underwood's song Before He Cheats, but I decided to go with something a little more conservative like "Home is Where the Heart Is".

Oh, and the kids decided that Shurmy's girlfriend is named Lily and together they have a baby named JuJu.

I'm learning so much.

So THAT'S why we have them....

Today I taught the kindergarten students about hula dancers.

And they taught me about the female anatomy.

Me: "Today we're going to do a Hawaiian hula dance."

Boy: "But, only girls can be hula dancers because they have humps." (He rubbed his hands on his chest.) "Boys are straight. We don't have humps to hold up the stuff the dancers wear."

It took all of my self-control to not giggle.

If that's the reason girls have "humps", I would not make a very good hula dancer.

ALOHA.

The Good Ol' Days....

Sometimes change is not for the best.

Has anyone had the experience of teaching a bunch of elementary school students lately? Anyone? Ah. Yes, I can tell from your frazzled hair and the twitch in your eye. You, my friend, have walked the hard road and know what it's like. There's nothing like trying to corral a bunch of grubby-handed know-it-all kids while at the same time trying to teach them oodles of information and trick them into thinking it's fun. Oh, and let's not forget that we want to refrain from hurting the self esteem of the poor little kidlets.

Bah. How about we go back to the good ol' paddling system for the wee ones? Remember the "Save the Rod, Spoil the Child" motto? Let's just give them "a few light slams now and then" and send them on their way. Look how well the system works in this picture:



Ah, how sweet. Everyone's smiling! Let's bring it back. Right now. I'm taking a paddle with me to school tomorrow. Or, I'm bringing this guy with me. "Come along, kiddie winkies!"

MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

:-)

(By the way, I actually really do like children. I do, I promise...)

If I you weren't a kind institute teacher, I would kick you.

This was an actual conversation I had with a well-meaning institute teacher the other day:

Teacher: Weren't you engaged a little while ago? Did that fall through?

Me: ...Nope. Pretty sure I wasn't engaged.

Teacher: Oh. You were close, though, right?

Me: Nope. Not even close.

Teacher: Well, you're dating someone now, right?

Me: No

Teacher: Weren't you dating someone fairly recently?

Me: No sir.

Teacher: Oh. *beat* Those boys are just dumb.

Me: See ya!

In my head, I wanted to say, "Thanks for the feel-good conversation. We'll have to have another one of these soon."

The Truth, Unvarnished

(Welcome to my blog, for all of you who might have been searching for Robert via Google search. After you read this post, feel free to go to this one for an update.)

I have to say it.

ROBERT "PATSY" PATTINSON IS NOT ATTRACTIVE!!!


I'm tired of this whole "Robert Pattinson is so sexy" campaign that's going on. I think it's all some evil ploy by Pattinson's marketing campaign to get us to run out and buy magazines and Twilight action figures. In the words of Mugatu, "I feel like I'm taking crazy pills!" It's time for all of the tweens to wake up and discover that he's just a creepy-looking dude. (If I see him on one more Twilight shirt, so help me....)

I'm sorry if I've destroyed your happy reality, but it must be done.

The Tooth Fairy isn't real, either. SUCKAS!!

Tribute to Goobers Everywhere

The ratio of Goobers to Normal people in a singles' ward is usually highly lopsided in favor of the Goobers. DRAT. Oh well. At least the Goobers do add a special dash of flavor to church activities...much like anchovy juice in Caesar dressing, or mold in cheese. :-) Let's face it, life just wouldn't be the same without the following conversations:

(Just to give you a mental picture, Boy #1--whom we'll refer to as Bill--has a very tall high forehead, thanks to hair loss. He wears glasses and doesn't smile. He talks in a very intense, slightly monotone voice. Think of Dwight Schrute from The Office. He is currently growing a big bushy beard, and when people ask him why he's growing said beard, he replies, in all seriousness, "I'm trying to look like Abraham Lincoln." ...Okay.... Boy #2, John, is pretty normal.)

Anyway, here's the conversation between Bill and John. John decided to complement Bill's maroon and gold tie.

John: I like your tie. It reminds me of Harry Potter.

Bill: (In his intense voice) What possible reasons would I have for wearing this tie?

John: Ummmm...

Bill: Reason #1--I look like Harry Potter. Reason #2--I attended the midnight release of the final Harry Potter book. Reason #3--These are the Gryffindor colors, and that's the house for which I would be selected. I also own the Slytherin tie.

John: Oh.


Ha ha. Taren overheard this conversation at one of our first ward functions, and it cracks me up to this day. These are the types of people who surround us, and will most likely be the only guys with enough gumption to ask us out on dates.



And people wonder why I'm not married? Hmmmmmm....

Show tonight!

I thought I should put in a shameless plug for Waking Erin, my Celtic band! (Well, technically, it is not my band in the slightest. It's just a lot easier to say that than "the Celtic band with which I play". Anyway....) We have a show tonight, so feel free to come! Or, if you can't come, think good thoughts.

FIRE! (You'll eat a muffin. You'll eat a muffin and LIKE IT!)

(For those of you who don't get the above reference, please feel free to check out this lovely bit of YouTube fun. I don't know why it makes me laugh so hard....)

I've decided acid reflux is LAME. I keep thinking that it will magically just go away, but no such luck. Sure, I guess I could actually follow the doctor's advice and stop eating all those fire-in-the-chest-causing foods, (aka anything that is tasty) but let's be realistic. Do you really think I can give up chocolate?

*Jules blinks.*

Really?

I didn't think so.

So, I'm trying something new: Apple Cider Vinegar. Apparently, this stuff is really supposed to help. I'm skeptical. Plus, it's nasty. Will it still work if I hide it in chocolate? Hmmmm....

Is anyone else hungry for muffins?

Chocol-ardiac Arrest

So, I took a little trip down memory lane the other day, and visited HomeStarRunner.com, a site that was all the rage when I was in high school. And I found this little gem: Strong Bad's Bottom 10. In honor of high school memories (and because some things bug me), here is my own "Bottom 10" list. Well, it's actually just a "Bottom 5" list because I'm lazy and not many things are bothering me today.

5) The use of the word "bling". Why are people still saying this word, particularly in serious settings? I'm baffled that the word has somehow abandoned the beefy, chain-wearing, gold-toothed gangsta-rappers who spawned it, and has now joined forces with sweet middle-aged scrapbooking women. "When it comes to scrapbooking, I'm all about the bling." (Actual quote, by the way. Seriously. Just google "bling scrapbooking" and you'll see the horrors.) *A shiver runs down my spine.* I don't know why, but I cringe when I hear someone use the word in a non-joking setting.

4) The following rhyming lyrics in songs:

Desire and Fire--I hate to break it to you, but you are not the first person to discover that those words rhyme. Even the Backstreet Boys figured that out.

Kiss and Miss--Yes, if you kiss me, you might miss me. But, considering that I'm wearing braces, the kiss might just be weird.


And, also, I dislike when bands shout out their name and the year the song was created. "This is Lunatic Fringe, 1996!!" Thanks, Fringe. Now, whenever I listen to your song I'm going to constantly think about how old it's getting, and how NOT COOL your band is. (P.S. I always thought Lunatic Fringe would be a good band name if I ever decided to become a heavy metal rocker. I just googled it, though, and it looks like other people had the same idea. Ooh! And it's also the name of a belly dancing shop! Anyone want to take up belly dancing?)

3) "Git 'er done." UGH. Larry the Cable Guy, you are not on my happy list. If I hear one more person yell this phrase and laugh because they think it's oh-so-funny, I will go all "Sydney Bristow" on them. No joke. (I also feel this way about Dumb and Dumber quotes and the song "Popular" from Wicked. Don't say those things around me. I'm a woman on the edge, and I will bust your kneecaps--in my mind, at least.)

2) The THX sound. I realize that everyone else loves this sound, but I can't stand it! My brain feels like it's going to explode. Seriously, if you wanted to torture me, you would just need to put me in a room where this sound was constantly playing, and then put a piece of chocolate cake just barely inches out of my grasp. I would cave in approximately 2.5 seconds. "Okay, I'll tell you what you want! Just make it stop!" *Hysterical sobbing.* (Maybe I shouldn't have told you all how to torture me....)

1) No chocolate cake. Can there be anything worse? Dismemberment? Nah. Death by shark attack? Nope. Starvation? No.... Wait. That means you don't have chocolate cake. YES! That's terrible!
Can you tell what's on my mind right now?

I want my money back.

One of the requirements of being a hermit is that you must be content with staying in your home for long periods of time. You must find a way to entertain yourself, whether it be through knitting a variety of cat sweaters or writing angst-ridden poetry. Luckily for all of you, my hermit escape mechanism is movie-watching. I do like me a good movie. A bad movie, on the other hand, is a very sad thing indeed. What can be more depressing than watching proof that millions of dollars were wasted on creating a 2 hour long torturous experience for the millions of people who will inevitably go to see it? (Maybe it's more depressing to calculate how much time and money we as humans collectively waste when we go to see the piece of rubbish.)

You all care so much, don't you? I can tell from the glazed-over look in your eye.

Ok, FINE! I understand that none of you care about my love for movies, or my ridiculously forceful opinions about them. But, so help me, you're going to listen! *Jules locks the door. She has that feverish glare in her eye, which is not a good sign. Uh oh. Now her eyes are twitching. You should have left the room before we got to this point.*

I want to have a little talk with you about a lovely little movie called Transformers 2. *thunder and lightning* Have any of you seen Transformers 2? *thunder and lighting* DID YOU MISS VALUABLE HOURS OF SLEEP TO GO SEE TRANSFORMERS 2?!! *thunder and lightning*

Well, if you can't tell by my mounting levels of frustration, I did. Currently, the terrible movie is running through my head non-stop. My brain is about ready to start hemorrhaging, just so it can escape the torture of reliving that movie again. So, since I might not be around much longer, I feel that it is my duty as a decent citizen of the world to warn you.

I understand if you feel like you need to go see it. The first Transformers movie was pretty good, right? Perhaps you loved watching the cartoon as a child. Perhaps you love Shia LeBeouf and want to support him in any way you can. Maybe you feel like you must always see movie sequels, because you need closure. I understand these feelings, my friend, but don't give in! It's not worth it, believe me. I went to see it because of these reasons, and it was a mistake.

Are you still not convinced that you need to stay away from this film? Well, let me tell you about some of the highlights...or lowlights, I guess. (I'm not going to mention the story and dialogue in this list, but just know that they are terrible.) Without further ado, here is the list:

1. The two jive-talking, "comic relief" robots. Not since Jar Jar Binks have I wanted to kill a computer-generated character so violently. (That's saying something. I made it through Star Wars episodes 1-3 simply by daydreaming about all of the horrific ways to torture Jar Jar.... Does that make me a bad person?)

2. An over-abundance of skankeriffic girls. Now, I'm sure sleazy girls talking in seductive tones will be a big hit with most of the teenage boys and low-life slobs who will see this movie, but for those people who don't enjoy seeing women portrayed as nothing more than stereotypical sex objects, this can get annoying. (Or maybe that's just my jealousy talking. I guess I'll have to work out a little more so I can wear my Daisy Dukes while I fix motorcycles; then I'll be as awesome as Megan Fox.) *sarcasm*

3. The mentioning of President Obama. Maybe this is just me, but I have a hard time when movies "date" themselves like that. By saying Obama is the president, you make two huge mistakes: 1) You ruin the movie magic for me, because now you've just mixed fictional alien robots with a real president. 2) Now the movie can only be relevant for Obama's presidential term, because after 2012 (hopefully) or 2016 if he gets elected for another term (heaven forbid), Obama will no longer be the president. I'm just saying.


There's the small list for now. I'd write more down, but some of them are just too horrendous to mention. What? You're still not convinced? You're going to get on fandango.com and purchase tickets right now?! NO! Don't do it. I'm warning you....

Okay, I wasn't going to list this last horrific "lowlight" for Transformers 2, but you have given me no choice. I'm sorry that it's come to this.

Reason 4. THEY SHOW JOHN TURTURRO IN A THONG. *The entire nation vomits simultaneously.* Yes. That's right. And it's not from a distance, either. You will see a close up of John's thong-clad nether regions, front and back, and it will be much larger than life on that movie screen. You will have no defense! And, as your eyes are scalded and your mind tainted forever from such an image, you will remember the warning I gave you. There will be much weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth. You will cry out, "Why? WHY?! Why did I not listen to the words of Julianna?"

That's all I'm saying, really.