Movie Recommendations

http://moviematters.blogspot.com/2006/01/movie-recommendations.html

Top Ten Tongue-Twisters (say that ten times)

My brother Jer and I both love to pull tongue-twisters on each other. Here are some of our favourites. See if you can say them quickly ten times (Jer and I can't even say them once!).

1. Welsh Sheep*
2. Nude Newt
3. Eleven eloping elephants in an elevator
   
4. A skunk sat on a stump and thunk the stump stunk,
   but the stump thunk the skunk stunk.
5. Red lorry, yellow lorry, red lorry, yellow lorry
6. Unique New York
7. Mrs. Smith's Fish Sauce Shop
8. A Tudor who tooted a flute tried to tutor two tooters to toot.
   Said the two to their tutor, "Is it harder to toot or to tutor two
   tooters to toot?"
9. Friendly Frank flips fine flapjacks.
10. Which witch wished which wicked wish?

*Little background history... when in Wales, I visited a sheep pasture. Hence, the term "Welsh sheep."

http://flickr.com/photos/careynofziger/

Overheard in my house...

"Oh, look! Telepathy!"

"Where?"

Singing with a British accent

I was just thinking about an instance I had with a friend over the way I sing.

My friend Hannah had recently gotten an electric guitar, and we were messing around with some music at her house. She had written a beautiful song, but needed help with a tune. After mulling over it a bit, I hummed a tune for her. We went to the piano and began singing aloud. Halfway through the song, Hannah began to giggle.

"What? What's wrong? Did I hit the wrong key?" I asked.

"No..." Hannah giggled, "You said wold in stead of world... like a British person."

"I did?"

"Yes, you sing with a British accent."

I guess I do sing with an "English" accent, but it was the way I was trained. My voice teacher always taught me to round out my vowels when singing. Really, it sounds better in most forms of music, instead of using American English. *UGH* Don't get me started about the way we Americans have utterly butchered the English language... especially here in Texas.

Normally Weird

My younger brother, Jeremy, is so normal he's weird.

My older brother David and I were both spectacled nerds during our highschool years. David was busy hacking into computers at school and I always had my nose in a book. Jeremy... well, he likes girls. *groan* Until the age of fourteen, Jer was an outdoorsy boy scout who didn't even know girls existed. Then those hormones kicked in... *sigh* He began asking me weird questions such as...

"Carey, what attracts you to guys?"

"Uhh... character... and I appreciate it when they smell good."

Since then, Jeremy has religiously doused himself in cologne, causing everyone to gag and grasp at their tightly closing throats.

"Carey, what kind of music do girls like?"

I stared at him. "Jeremy, it depends on the girl. Personally, I like all sorts of genres."

"Right... okay."

It's been a new crush every month. Last month it was a girl in the junior high/highschool group I work with. She freaked out and thought Jeremy was stalking her. He wasn't, but Jer doesn't know how to act around girls... now that I think of it, most guys don't. They behave strangely around females they like and can only emit a "Doy" or a "Gosh" (to my male readers: please don't take personal offense at any sarcastic references I make to your species... after all, it's not your fault you were born males... and no, I am not prejudiced). This month it's the church music director's youngest daughter. I am horrified. If Jeremy did something stupid, it would be humiliating for the whole family. Could we be excommunicated??

I think Jeremy pays as much or more attention to his appearance as I do (I'm a girl, so I have an excuse). He actually has a skincare regimen, which involves plastering a clay mask on his face at the slightest hint of a pimple, using cologne-scented body wash, and frequently asking me to style his blonde little head. I don't understand why he can't gel his hair by himself.

Oh, and then there's the cellphone issue. Apparently it is popular in today's teen culture to own a cool-looking cellphone. The rule in our family on cellphones is: you have a driver's license and a job to pay for your cellphone because Mama and Papa ain't payin' for it. I have lost track of how many times Jeremy has begged to borrow my cellphone (he never asks Mom becuase her cellphone is a dinosaur). David suggests I should put pink hearts and bears on my cellphone so Jeremy will never ask again. I may just do that.

Jeremy is also in the Age of Perpetual Embarrasment. Everything and everyone is embarrasing. I take advantage of this, and frequently threaten to burst into a Broadway number -- dancing and all -- in public. All I have to say is "I feel a song coming on" and disagreements are quickly solved.

Despite his oddities, I love Jer. He's a great kid, and the only guy I know who will watch chick-flicks with me and cry. He is strange, but sensitive.

College classes began again for the new semester last week. So far, I am enjoying most of my classes... except for public speaking and American history (my professor casts a dark eye on the Puritans as does any secular college history professor).

I've already made a few new acquaintances, who are to say the least interesting. Angela (from history class) is a sweet, slender red-head with freckles who lives with her boyfriend, as I discovered today. (I'm glad she didn't ask if I had a boyfriend. Though I'm proud of it, I always find it a little awkward to reveal that I have never had a serious boyfriend, still posses my virginity, and have never been kissed. People gawk at me like I'm some freak.)

Mark, from my literature class, is 30 and a very chatty fellow. He was getting a little flirty with me in class today (despite the fact that he is engaged). Mark passed a note to me during class asking "Do you like me?" I turned to him with an incredulous look and whispered, "We're not in highschool anymore." As long as I live, I never want to mess with a guy who is in some sort of committed relationship. I don't even mess with guys who have girlfriends... in fact, I don't really mess with guys at all. They're the ones who flirt with me... weirdos. Seriously, I could never do that to a fellow woman.

Demotivators

http://despair.com/viewall.html

CRUNCH

Friday morning saw me up bright and early... actually, grumpy and early. I had to go back to work and wasn't too thrilled about it. Thankfully, I was home by 1 PM and looked forward to a nap.

Or so I thought.

[Before I continue this saga, I must explain that my dad has muscular dystrophy and uses an electric wheelchair that weighs (with him in it) around 500 to 600 pounds -- a monstrous mechanical thing that creeks perpetually.]

I was about to eat a late lunch with my family in the living room, and had returned to the kitchen for a drink. Dad was in the kitchen getting his salad, and didn't see me (or wasn't paying attention to where he was driving -- as the walls in our house will tell you). He backed up over my right foot and a horrifying CRUNCH and scream from yours truly quickly ensued.

My ever dramatic mother heard my scream of agony and ran into the kitchen screaming in unison with me. Her first thought was that I either burned myself or cut myself (my favourite methods of self injury), but she soon realized that Dad had flattened my foot. Let's just say you don't want to be around my mother when someone hurts one of her children -- she will shred the perpetrator into confetti (even if it was just an accident).

Mom insisted that I go to the emergency room to get my foot x-rayed. (I must admit, that were it not for my mom, I'd probably never visit a doctor or go to the emergency room.) I kept trying to convince Mom that I was fine and didn't need to go anywhere, but in the end she won and I spent my entire afternoon (and early evening) at the hospital.

It had to happen, I guess, since I've been making annual trips to the ER since I was 14.