Bennigan's Declares Bankruptcy! And Other News No One But Me Cares About

Yes, that's right. I am in a state of shock, awe, and sadness - shockawness (that sounds surprisingly like "Loch Ness" with an "-a-" in the middle, as if someone were saying it with a bad, stereotypical Italian accent. Anyway.)

So, yeah, no more Spicy Queso Beer Dip. No more vegetarian fajitas. No more desserts my dining companions assured me were meat by-product free before "discovering" marshmallows in them ("them" being the desserts, not my dining companions).

In short, I've lost my "hey-I-just-achieved-something-let's-go-to-Bennigan's-to-celebrate" spot. Apparently, the privately owned Bennigan's (Bennigan'ses?) will remain open, but they're all in, like, Texas or someplace, and how does that help me? I've never achieved anything in Texas except a sunburn.

Hmmm, what else? Honeydew melons are on sale this week. In my five weeks of employment at the ever-lovely haven known as Market Basket, I'd never once crossed paths with a honeydew melon. (Which was fine by me...something about those things just irks me. I think it's because they're too smooth. Literally.) But suddenly everyone and their mom is buying melons. Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration. But still. The Honeydews (yes, capital H) and I have made contact.

Also popular this week: Really heavy stuff that's awkward to lift and even more awkward to scan through the price scanner. Stuff like dog food (for Clifford?! Seriously, whose dog eats THIS MUCH in between trips to the MB?), charcoal (grill, grill, grill, suckas!), kitty litter (a deceptively cutesy name for a very non-cutesy item), and so on. Large, unwieldy 24-packs and 35-packs of water bottles (in various sizes) remain a must-have item for every single shopper. Sometimes they will even insist upon loading all FIFTY SIX (or, you know, four) of their Awkward Water Packs onto the conveyor belt and pushing the carriage all the way to the end so that I have no choice but to scan each individual bulky package. Arg.

Still have not seen The Dark Knight. I actually have no desire to - ahhh! Please stop throwing rotten fruit at me! I KNOW, it's the performance of Heath Ledger's career! I KNOW it was awesome! I've heard about the "pencil trick" (although no one will explain the awesomeness of the "pencil trick" to me...they - "they" being my friends that have seen The Dark Knight, most likely multiple times - only look at each other knowingly and go, "Pencil...trick..." in my presence). But seriously. Stop trying to convince me to see it. I'm just not a Batman kind of gal. I like movies where people break into song. Preferably in Greece. With Colin Firth. And ABBA songs.

So, take a guess which movie I'll use my movie-watching budget on before devoting the hypothetical leftover cash to this Batman guy. Just take a gander.

Apart from Mamma Mia, I really want to see Girl With a Pearl Earring. No, not just because Colin Firth is also in that. I actually just finished reading the book (which I bought for $14.90 - sale! - at Borders before realizing that I could have just borrowed it from my mom). It was pretty good. Not my new favorite, but it was in the running there for a little while. Since I finished that, I've tried rereading The Enchanted April, which I'd started last year. I'd never gotten past the first page of the second chapter. But since I'd read A Room with a View earlier this year (and liked it), and the critical praise on the back of The Enchanted April said that those who loved A Room with a View would also love The Enchanted April, I figured, hey, let's give it another try. So I am. And I'm liking it so far (I'm just over 1/3 of the way through it). I really should go to the library and pick up some books to bring with me on vacation next week. On the other hand, I really SHOULDN'T go to the library and pick up some books. I've still only just made a dent in my mandatory (?) school reading - The Wisdom of Crowds by James Surowiecki - and I really should do some more work on it. On the OTHER hand, if you can't relax and read what you want to while you're on VACATION, when can you?!

Finally, speaking of vacations, Jess and I both have TOMORROW OFF! Well, she has something in the morning, and I have to tutor at three-thirty, but other than that, it's gonna me Renée and Jess: Best Friends Together Again! (Cue music: "Reunited and It Feels So Good")

Off to read, sleep, and enjoy the fact that tomorrow I am living SUPERMARKET FREE!!! I mean, until I try to cook a meal for myself. Then it's all "Gotta get some bread -two for three dollars if it's generic - some sugar, some cinnamon, and some I Can't Believe It's Not Butter! and slice up some 4174s to make turnovers. Yum!" "Pass the 4066s, please." "Why are there 4497s in the fridge?! You know I only like 4023s!"

Jess - and other Market Basket employees - will understand. Well, they'll understand the codes, anyway, I'm probably the only one that thinks of her fruits and veggies in terms of produce codes.

Well, good night.

Adventures in Television-Watching

This is the life...just sitting on Maria's couch with Maria and Christian, eating Ben and Jerry's and watching 100 Greatest Songs of the 90s, making commentary on the really good songs and the really bad ones. And, of course, singing along.

The entire experience was punctuated by Christian's desperate search for brownie chunks in both varieties of ice cream (Half Baked and Chocolate Fudge Brownie). When Maria found a chunk and let him know, he promptly abandoned the Chocolate Fudge Brownie (which he'd more or less decimated in his search for brownie chunks) and pounced on the Half Baked. I stole the Chocolate Fudge Brownie and - of course - found a giant chunk of brownie, which prompted much whining from Christian: "Oooh! Give it to me! Please! No fair!"

Me, shoving brownie in mouth: Um, no.
Christian, in desperate attempt to get brownie: Kiss me!
Me: No!!! It's mine!
Christian: You bitch. It's like I'm the guy that went to California in 1847 and you're 1848.
Me: I need to facebook quote that right now.
Maria: You should BLOG ABOUT IT!!!

Why, thank you, Maria. I think I will.

Also, Christian permanently lowered himself in my eyes by insisting that Bono is an a-hole. (Um, no, he is not. He is brilliant, socially aware, and quite sexy. I would totally date Bono, even though he is quite a bit older than me and, you know, famous. Plus, he's married, so I don't think his wife (or kids) would be so crazy about me. Anyway. Moving on.

Christian's argument is that Bono does TOO MANY GOOD THINGS. Um, what?! How does supporting Greenpeace, Amnesty, and various anti-AIDS, -poverty, and -hunger campaigns make someone a jerk? I guess Mother Theresa's headed straight for hell, then.

Okay, update from Christian: "Let me change my argument, okay? I never said that. Here's why he's an asshole, all right? Because, um, he -eeeeeee- hold on, I'm watching this commercial. No, don't type that! Don't type that! No. He's an asshole because he does all this good stuff, but that's a cover for his love of himself. He is an egotistical do-gooder asshole. Yep. Yep yep yep."

I would like to ask you, Christian, as you read this over my shoulder (so to speak, since you're more reading this from the side and not behind) what do-gooder things YOU have ever done for humanity. I think being egotistical and doing nice things is better than not doing nice things at all.

We've moved on from the U2 discussion (in response to "One" being named one of the best songs of the 90s) to a discussion of the conspiracy surrounding Kurt Cobain's death: "How could Kurt Cobain shoot himself with a shotgun? Put THAT in your blog. He's not Mr. Fantastic. He was fantastic, but he wasn't Mr. Fantastic. Mr. Fantastic has stretchy arms."

Thanks for your unique perspective, Christian. Even though I tend to agree that Kurt Cobain did not kill himself.

Christian did acknowledge, however, that U2 is an awesome band. I couldn't agree more.

So now the show's over and we're channel surfing...we just came across this gem: "A widower and his daughters enter a surreal world to fulfill an enigmatic prophecy after they are attacked by evil trolls." Seriously, it's on ION. What?!

And now we're watching I Love Money. (Christian: Ugh, not for long.) Our commentary:
Maria: I feel like my brain cells are shriveling up and that my IQ has dropped a gazillion points.
Christian: Here's what the problem is with the show. Mr. Boston is a dirty dirty ho man. Man ho.
Maria: Man skank.
Christian: Yes, he is. He's a man ho skank. And that girl will eat pig balls.
Maria: A white boy wannabe gangsta. Like, 'Oh, I'm so Rico Suave.'
Christian: Yeah, so here's the deal with him. He makes us look like assholes. And he's captain! Oh, he's not my captain! Take that, Whitman! Suck on that, Walt!
Maria (imitating people on TV): 'I am...inarticulate. I don't know what I'm saying.' Okay, stop trying to sound smart.
TV: Okay, so you've taken some time to think about it -
Christian: No, they didn't. Don't give them that much credit.

Explain to me how making out with other contestants serves ANY purpose. At all. Why don't the contestants participate in some type of contest to better mankind, like solving world hunger or sewing Halloween costumes for non-creative, tight-budgeted children? I mean, really. Get some real jobs. The rest of us have to deal with customers to make minimum wage, and the MB is not a seaside mansion. Just saying.

I think it must be kinda hard to be Mr. Boston. I mean, no one really likes him. I feel bad for him. Mr. Boston, you have my sympathies.

Wait. "I have a lot of pride, but I'm willing to put all that pride aside for $250,000."

What? $250,000 is NOTHING. And besides that, if you had any pride (not even a "LOT OF PRIDE," as you claim), you wouldn't be on this show in the first place.

Oh ho, the tables have turned, Chance. You are not a team player. You have refused to participate twice, and you have therefore been disqualified twice.

He may not be a team player, but he apparently has more pride than anyone else on this show. Which is still not a lot, because, you know, he's there in the first place.

Well, we're going to watch Penelope now. Since I'm gonna actually want to pay attention, I think I'm gonna call it quits for this.

Sigh...

But first, a word from Christian:
so, christian he-ahhhhhh with an update. i don't realy have an update i just wanted to say that because it sounds cool. peace, romans, you don't exist anyway. homes.

Okay, Christian. Whatever.

Merry Christmas in July!

In honor of today - no wait, yesterday - one of the local radio stations played Christmas carols all day. I called Jess and left her a very long voicemail recording of "Dominic the Donkey," which has become not only one of our favorite Christmas songs, but a friendship bonding symbol or something (sort of like "500 Miles" by the Proclaimers). Anyway, even though the novelty wore off pretty quickly, there was still some novelty to it, which was nice. As much as I love summer, I have to admit that it does get kind of monotonous. Particularly when you've had no new emails/facebook notifications in two or more days.

Today was far superior to yesterday. I cleaned my room (finally!) while watching Bend It Like Beckham, one of my favorite movies; got myself a third job (hurray for not being broke!); got my bangs to do what I wanted; and had a great time at the second monthly Sushi Roast (even though we couldn't get a campfire started because of all the rain). I did miss seeing Psych, so I'm gonna go watch it when it repeats at 1:00. AM. I'm so gonna regret this tomorrow. Although...I don't have to be at work until two, I think, so I can sleep fairly late.

That's about it. I thought I actually had a point. I guess I was wrong.

The Secret Lives of Cats

Hi, everyone. This is Katie, Renée's cat. Renée is trying to recover from her day (doctor's appointment, complete with four painful shots; work, complete with difficult customers; and a dead car battery), so I'm taking over her blog for the night. No, I did not get this idea from author Meg Cabot's blog entries by Britney Spears. Anyhow, here's how my average day goes.

I woke up this early this morning. It was raining, and no one else was awake yet. Since that meant I couldn't play with/get food from anyone, I decided to go back to sleep. I must admit, though, that I first contemplated jumping onto Renée's bed, biting her, and leaving, which I've done in the past. (It was great fun, especially when she had to go all the way downstairs in the dark at midnight to find bandaids and Neosporin.) Unfortunately, Renée began sleeping with her door shut a couple years ago, and since then I've had no opportunity to bite-and-run. I do have fun slinking into her room before she goes to sleep, letting her get all cozy in bed, and then crying to be let out. She comes up with the most creative insults this way.

At any rate, I went back to sleep. Renée woke up to go jogging, and I saw my golden opportunity. She came down the stairs looking like a wreck (no contacts, hair in ponytail, wearing shorts and tank top with white sneakers and - gag me - black socks. I'm a cat, and even I understand what kind of fashion gaffe this is.). Anyway, I followed her, meowing. She snapped, "Not now, Katie, I'm busy." I sat on the stairs and offered up my most pitiful meows, but the cold-hearted witch was not swayed. She put in her iPod and left. I hoped that she got chased by every dog in the neighborhood.

I laid down on the stairs in the sun to heal my injured spirits. I was hungry! I hadn't eaten for a whole...three hours! I might waste away by the time she got back.

But when she returned half an hour later, looking even grosser than when she'd left, I meowed again. She cooed, "Hi, Katie Cat!" in the most irritatingly chipper voice possible. (I'd say it was because of the endorphins, but this is the voice she always uses with me.) She went on though, going, "Aww you hungwy? Oh, who's my big hungwy kitty?! Do you want some food? "

Wanting food? Me? Whatever gave you that idea? Was it when I sat by my food bowl and cried?!

She shoveled out a minuscule amount of cat food and patted me on the head before going off to take a shower. I ate half a mouthful of food and realized I wasn't that hungry after all.

When our paths crossed again, she was back in a bad mood. I was patiently waiting on the stairs to play our favorite game, one that I have entitled Slap the Hell Out of the Humans' Hands Through the Slats on the Staircase, or SHOHHTSS for short. She let me get a couple slaps in, but then lectured me: "NO. BITING. THAT'S. BAD. BAD CAT. NO." Then she left. She really ought to recheck the rules; if she did, she'd know that bites are worth 80 thousand bonus points. SO she really can't blame me for my mad skillz.

I didn't see her again until the evening, and her mood was back to annoyingly chipper. "Who's my pretty kitty?" she gushed as soon as she saw me lounging on the bed, resting from the exercise I almost considered partaking in today. "Who's the pretty kitty?!"

Um, I am. I'm the "pretty kitty" every time you ask this stupid question.

Every. Freaking. Time.

I think she may have a personality disorder. Why else would she switch so quickly from annoyed to loving? Maybe humans don't consider six hours to be a short amount of time. Maybe to them, it's a sufficient amount of time for mood changes. But that's silly. I mean, these are the same creatures that think eight hours of sleep is plenty. They clearly need to straighten out their priorities.

Anyway, I was sick of her mood issues and gushing, so I left. I'm now off to go sleep on the bathroom rug, right next to the door, so that if she goes to the bathroom in the middle of the night she'll notice me and maybe feed me, play with me, or fill a Dixie bathroom cup with water and let me drink it/splash it all over the floor. First, though, I'll throw up right here next to the computer. On the white carpet. This will be EPIC.

Good night!

Things You Never Knew About Me

Why choose this topic? Because
a.) I'm bored, and
b.) I like to pretend that I have some degree of mystery around me.

So, without further ado:

1. I think the sound of a blinker in a quiet car is one of the most soothing sounds there is.
2. I often get the song "I Touch Myself" (or an equally inappropriate song) stuck in my head at inconvenient times, such as during church, while babysitting, or in the presence of family/relatives.
3. I thought Colin Firth was hotter in Nanny McPhee than he was in Pride and Prejudice. I realize how weird this is.
4. Even though I am vegetarian, I really love the smell of hamburg meat frying in a pan.
5. I own probably upwards of 50 pairs of earrings. I wear earrings maybe three times a year.
6. When I was little, I used to lick my feet. Don't ask why; I have no idea. I also realize now that foot-licking is disgusting, and only wish that I could go back in time and keep four-year-old me from ever having done it.
7. In the winter, I sometimes wear mittens and a hat to bed.
8. Sometimes I have prophetic dreams. Seriously. It's freaky.
9. For the longest time, I wanted to have a career as a figure skater - despite the fact that I'd never been on ice skates.
10. I'm almost always swearing - in my head.
11. I'm missing reruns of both Bones and The Office right this very second. So, peace out.

But What Does It MEAN?!

Early (really early!) this morning, I was awoken from sleep by my subconscious, which had just tortured me with a dream so disturbing that I almost (almost!) called for my mommy. Seriously.

I lay there, paralyzed with fear, my legs cramping up (because I'd somehow been managing to sleep on my back, with my knees up and my feet flat on the bed). I couldn't even check the time, so terrified was I. Finally, I moved my legs very, veeeeeerrrry slowly until I was lying flat on the bed with my eyes screwed shut as tightly as possible, because I knew that the second I opened them, I'd see a flaming skull or something equally nightmarish hovering above my bed, waiting to consume my soul or whatever. (Because, don't deny it - when you wake up from a dream you're convinced that there is SOMETHING in your room, because your brain is going, "There's gotta be something here. Why else would I just wake up out of the blue? There's a presence here, I can just feel it. But I can't open my eyes or it will know that I know that it's here and it can't allow that information to get out and it will KILL ME!!! Maybe if I just lie really still it'll leave me alone...")

So I finally got the courage to open my eyes. Nothing. My room was my room. My bed was my bed. There was no flaming skull, no ghostly shadows, no Marilyn Manson hiding in the corner. I breathed a sigh of relief and kept repeating (in my head, not out loud...just in case) that it was only a dream and that I'd feel stupid thinking about it in the morning.

And I was right.

The dream that inspired five to ten minutes (again, not sure on the times because looking at the clock would have involved moving) of sheer terror?

I dreamed that the wall in my parents' room had a face in the wall, a la the face in Cordelia's wall in that episode of Angel when she rents the haunted apartment. And the face would say vaguely threatening things whilst the pipes overhead leaked water all over the attic in what can only be described as a highly sinister manner. So I looked for a route of escape (naturally), and when I turned around and saw the face again, I knew the jig was up. How did I know this? Was it the face's creepy voice? Had the face become an entire body which was now grabbing for my throat? Were the pipes leaking enough water to drown me almost instantaneously?

No. The face was wearing sunglasses.

That's what scared the bejeezus out of me at three (ballpark guess) in the morning. Not the fact that a wall, which is by its very nature inanimate and, oh yeah, FACELESS, was talking to me (threateningly). I was freaked out by the SUNGLASSES.

And sure, then I tried to escape and the evil forces in the room whipped up a wind that kept pushing me closer and closer to the Wall of Doom, which was not too fun either. But the sunglasses still freaked me out more.

Dear Lord, what is my ISSUE? I think I need a shrink.

Maybe my sunglasses fear stemmed from the fact that I went to the beach with Maria yesterday, which was loads of fun, even though I wiped out really bad and a giant wave sucked me under and deposited me awkwardly and painfully on the sand with my arm twisted behind me (ouuuuch, shoulder in pain!) and water in my mouth and up my nose. I finally got my head out of the water and stood up only to be knocked over again by the next wave. I am sure that it was a very entertaining scene for all the other beachgoers, but at that point I was too glad to be inhaling air and not saltwater and chunks of sand to care what anyone else might have thought of my none-too-graceful moment. But yeah, it was intense - the elastic came right out of my ponytail! Whatever, though. Our beach day was fun and relaxing aside from that one major incident, and I got the beginnings of a nice summer tan (hurrah!). However, along with the nice tan I got a major sunglasses tan line. It's not pretty. So maybe that's where my sunglasses fear is coming from. Oh, and the leaking water represents the whole "my face is in the water and I can't breath!" thing.

Apparently, my subconscious didn't have as much fun at the beach as the rest of me.

Grab Some Popcorn and Lower Your Expectations: It's Summer Movie Time

Summer
+ two days off in a row
+ sudden (free) appearance of many premium movie channels on my cable plan
+ my inherent laziness and abhorrence of exercise
= lotsa movie-watching fun

So, yeah, I did some sitting in front of the tube. And I've come to help you decide which movie to waste your time on this summer.

Please note that not all of these movie were watched during my aforementioned two days off. I'm not that big of a loser, thank you.

WALL-E
See. It. Now.

I did not particularly want to see WALL-E, but seeing as a bunch of my friends were going and I had a free movie pass, I figured 'why not?' So I saw. And I loved. And I discussed its merit with Jess in the ladies' room after the movie was over, because we each drank half a pitcher of orange soda during the movie. (That's was the reason for the setting of the discussion, not the discussion itself, FYI.)

Anyway, WALL-E was cute for kids, but semi-disturbing for adults who actually comprehend that - spoiler alert? - the movie is set in a post-apocalyptic world where "Buy'n'Large" (aka WALMART! cough) has taken over, humans are all morbidly obese, and organic matter is practically non-existent under all the trash and junk.

I bet you anything that somebody still threw trash out the window of his/her car on the way home from the theatre. Sort of like how my friend Erica went to Friendly's and ordered chicken fingers immediately after seeing Chicken Run.

The Pursuit of Happyness
Is there a 'the' at the beginning, or is it just "Pursuit of Happyness"? Oh, well, it probably doesn't matter if the movie's title is spelled wrong on purpose anyway.

Anyway, a certain person had ruined the entire plot of this movie two years before I saw it, so some (okay, all) of the cool time-saving tactics Chris Gardner (aka Will Smith) used were spoiled. Not that it really matters. But all the other plot points were kinda 'old news' after that, too, you know?

Anyhoo, I knew that this was gonna be an uplifting movie, but it took a looooong time to get there. Like 116 minutes (the movie was 118 minutes long, says my On Demand). But don't be discouraged, grasshopper. I may have spoiled the ending's mood, but at least you know it ends happily, and happy spoilers are always nicer than "Oh, by the by, everyone and their mom dies at the end and then the world explodes."

I Am Legend
Was forced to watched I Am Legend by Jess and Nicole. Can't really say anything about it without giving stuff away...yeah, it was one of thooose movies. I will leave you these tantalizing bits, though:
- Will Smith runs
- Will Smith shoots gun at stuff
- Will Smith has a dog
- Will Smith has flashbacks
- Will Smith talks to mannequins
- Will Smith performs experiments
- Will Smith blows stuff up
- Will Smith quotes Shrek (my personal favorite)
- Will Smith raps about how his life got flipped, turned upside down...wait, wrong show.

Herbie: Fully Loaded
I was channel-surfing in my room at about 12:45 am (which is 45 minutes past MIDNIGHT, people-who-don't-understand-the-difference-between-twelve-am-and-twelve-pm) when all of a sudden--
Me: Ohmigod, is that the Mac guy from the "I'm-a-Mac-I'm-a-PC" ads?!
Justin Long: *smiles at Lindsay Lohan*
Me: You're not especially good-looking, Justin Long, but you are oh so very attractive. How does that even work?!*

*Scientists don't understand why Justin Long's lack of Brad Pitt good looks makes him that much more attractive to some. They call it the Justin Long Paradox.

So, yes, I watched Herbie: Fully Loaded solely because I-can't-really-explain-it-but-I-sort-of-have-a-thing-for Justin Long. But let me tell all you other people out there who are Justin Long fans: the film was not worth it. Even though I may have teared up at the end. But it was two in the morning and I had just realized that I would never get the last hour-and-fifteen-minutes of my life back.

Amelie
C'est fantastique!!! Even though it's entirely in French, there are subtitles for all of us non-French-speaking people. Although the subtitles don't make the plot(s) any less bizarre. The movie is hilarious and touching, though. Added bonus: Leave it on (without the subtitles) when company is coming over, then shut it off and be all, "Oh, sorry, just enjoying my artsy foreign film." And then pray that your guests a.) don't speak French, and b.) haven't seen the movie.

Chocolat
Since I first saw this movie at the age of eleven? twelve? it had been fixed in my mind as a rather long and boring movie, not a "bittersweet treat" as claimed in the summary provided by my cable company. However, on a second viewing, I could fully appreciate the movie...and Johnny Depp. Oh, but that Johnny Depp would sail down the river into my town and try to sell me overpriced knickknacks whilst strumming a guitar! Of course, if that ever happened, I'd have to stop being friends with Maria because of her deep-rooted Johnny Depp phobia. Sorry, Maria.

The Importance of Being Earnest
Okay. I only watched it because Colin Firth was in it. But I genuinely liked it! In a surprising turn (note sarcasm), Judi Dench plays a crotchety upper class snob. But, yeah. Funny movie. Even my sister, who hates British films and British actors and British humor and, well, anything British (in colonial times, I swear she would have been the first one dumping tea into the harbor) liked The Importance of Being Earnest. Which I guess just goes to show you the importance of being The Importance of Being Earnest. (Think about it for a second...there you go.)

Wow, better get some sleep soonish.

Pirates of the Caribbean 3: At World's End
Ha ha, At Wit's End, more like. Someone should inform Jerry Bruckheimer that the "3" in the title does not have to refer to the movie's length in hours.

Okay, I know it's way late, but here's the skinny (SPOILERS...?):

The East India Trading Company is doing...something evil. Do they ever explain what? Why were they out to get Jack Sparrow? How and when did they get control of the Flying Dutchman? Did this happen in the second movie (which I've seen three times and own on DVD)? If so, um, WHEN?!

Jack and Elizabeth have broken up...no they haven't...yes, they have...no, wait, I guess they hadn't because NOW they're breaking up for real - wait, false alarm...wait, why are you kissing THAT person?! That's not your significant other!

Johnny Depp is...wait, the Johnny Depps are...oh, bullocks.

That crazy chick is a goddess; no, it's Keira Knightley, but wait! One of the top-credited actors dies in the first third of the film?! WTF?!

Sorry, Keira Knightley, you aren't actually a goddess in human form (not in this movie, anyway). How about, as a consolation prize, we make you King of the Pirates? Sound good?

I have no idea what's going on at this point...I'm not even watching the movie, I'm just staring at the screen because I cannot comprehend anything that is happening. Whose side is anyone on? I swear to God, they switch sides more than...something that switches sides a lot.

And now there's a giant whirlpool. Great. Maybe it's the Bottomless Plot Hole sucking the entire film into the abyss.

Naturally, the whirlpool does not demolish our heroes, because then we'd have to spend the last twenty minutes watching the East India Trading Company do...what were they trying to accomplish again? This is, perhaps, the true reason why the pirates win. Because if they'd lost, the EIC would've carried out its evil plot, and not even the writers knew what that might be, so how could they possibly write a script on it?

Are you confused? Lemme tell you that this summary, despite its stream-of-consciousness style and questionable use of grammar, was still less complex than the movie's plot. It also makes far more sense.

To sum up: three hours is too long for a movie to hold its audience's attention (and for that audience to hold its collective bladder), but not long enough to adequately explain all of said movie's plot points.

And yet, I didn't totally hate it. Go figure.

Edward Scissorhands
I put off seeing it for a really long time because I knew it had a sad ending. (I gleaned this information from a conversation with my cousin, in which she said that Edward Scissorhands had a sad ending. Just call me Nancy Drew.)

Anyway, my sister assured me that the ending was "happy-sad-ish," so I gave it a try.

In all honesty, she was pretty much right...but was also completely wrong. If you've seen it, you know what I mean. Awesome movie, though, featuring that lady who played Mia in season seven (NOT season two) of Gilmore Girls as the neighborhood busybody/entrepreneur/horndog/Abigail Williams (it's a Crucible reference, duh).

Despite the "happy-sad-ish" ending, it's totally worth seeing.

And so concludes my Guide to Summer Movie Viewing.

Celebratory Haiku

A day off is nice.
I can watch A Shot at Love
Not that I would, though.

Brief Sketches of Life at the MB

In haiku form, because I'm feeling especially creative.

I. Ode to the Indecisive Customer
You say you want it
You bring it to the checkout
You don't want it now.

II. Ode to the Person Who Doesn't Understand the Concept of Produce Codes
It's a pear, you say
A pear! One-ninety-nine!
I smile; type the code.

III. Ode to My Register
Why must you hurt me?
I only tried to wash you.
You cut my finger.

IV. Odes to Working Past Closing
I ring items up.
When did the line get so long?
Oh, right; it's closing.

Everyone rushes
To put their stuff on the belt
I inwardly cuss.

V. Ode to Breaking Down the Bread Aisle
Hey, I was just here
How did it get so messy?
Unsupervised kids.

VI. Ode to Doing Overstock
Where does this belong?
I can't find a spot nearby.
Hide it in the back.*

*Not that I actually do this.

VII. Ode to Damaged Goods
Ice cream in bread aisle
Melts faster than you might think
Three dollars wasted.

VIII. Ode to WIC Transactions
The road to hell is
Not paved with good intentions
But with damned WIC checks.

IX. Ode to Those Who Move the Divider Between Orders
I am not psychic.
I don't know which stuff is yours
And which stuff is theirs.

X. Ode to Calling For Voids
Blink blink goes my light
Supervisor override
Ah, back to normal.

XI. Ode to the Lazy Bagger
Stuff is piling up
I wonder what's going on
Bagger is texting.

XII. Ode to the Customer who Oversteps Her Bounds
I get paid chump change
To scan your items through, ma'am.
Please don't scan your own.

XIII. Ode to the Break Room
Awfully hot in here
Microwave gross, flies on walls
"Broken room," more like.

XIV. Ode to Leaky Items
Mysterious goo
Sticks to my hands for hours
Get me some Purell!

XV. Ode to Crying Children
Little boy throws fit
Please just buy him the candy
Or else shoot me now.

XVI. Ode to Awkwardly Lovable Customers
Don't be embarrassed
Sir, I know those tampons are for
Your lovely wife.

XVII. Ode to the Dress Code
"Recommended shoes:
Low heels or pumps for women."
Ha ha ha ha...no.*

*Stand in heels/pumps for FIVE HOURS STRAIGHT? Dress code was obviously written by a man.

XVIII. Ode to the Customer who is Strapped for Cash
Why yes, sir, you can
Pay with both cash and debit.
I'd prefer you don't.

XIX. Ode to Customers Who Pay All in One-Dollar Bills
Your bill was quite large
Why did you pay all in ones?
Why do you hate me?

XX. Ode to the Receipt Machine
This lady ordered
Three bazillion items
Why must you jam now?!

Be kind to your local supermarket staff. They deal with all this - and WORSE - on a daily basis. Plus, if you're an especially annoying customer, they'll complain about you to their friends and possibly blog about you. So yeah, be nice.

BONUS! From Chris, as I IM him while writing this:
Customer must leave,
"Just going to get money."
Cart never reclaimed.

My reply:
Void the whole order
Oh Lord, just kill me now please
Supervisor pissed.

And that's life at the MB.

Killing Time Before Work

Okay, so my Internet was down AGAIN, this time for two days - two days in which I nearly freaked out because I couldn't check my facebook. Yes, that may sound pathetic, but you don't understand. I am notorious for constantly checking my facebook, so most people know that if they need to get a message to me, facebooking me is a good bet. So all I could imagine was coming back to wall posts like, "Hey, we're all going to the Caribbean this afternoon, free of charge. Pack your bags, sucka!" only to discover that the post was from two days ago and everyone is already back, tanned and slightly coconut-scented.

So, as you can imagine, I was rather irritated over missing out on this hypothetical dream vacation, so I spent a good chunk of my newfound free time silently railing at my internet provider. In the interest of being diplomatic, I won't COMmunicate which sub-par (and over-priced) internet provider CAST such a gloom over an otherwise nice week.

But if you were to figure it out yourself, perhaps through information I gave you subconsciously, could anyone really blame me?

So other than that, nothing much is up. I got a new haircut. With bangs. They keep falling in my face. It'll take some getting used to (what with the bangs and the fact that it's about 6 inches shorter), but I like it (for many reasons, the least of which not being that all the gross dead stuff I was calling "hair" is no longer attached to my head).

Over and out.

Eau de Market Basket

I just returned home from working the "five to close" shift at the MB (!!!), feeling lonely and dejected because

a.) I'm missing my aunt's "Watch the Fireworks from my Back Porch" cookout.
b.) I am the ONLY one missing aforementioned cookout.
c.) Someone nearby is setting off fireworks which I can hear but cannot see, which only serves to rub the "ha-ha, loser, you had work" salt in my figurative wound.

So I walked into the house, happy at least to see that the cat was waiting for me at the door. So I sat down on the stairs, the epitome of one who is, as previously mentioned, lonely and dejected, and said to the cat, "Come sit with me, Katie. I'm lonely and I need SOMEONE to hang out with." (On the way home from work, I seriously considered finding some dolls and large stuffed animals in the attic, setting them up around the kitchen table, cooking myself a veggie burger, and having an imaginary cookout. You think I'm kidding. I'm really not. But that was too pathetic, not to mention borderline psychotic. )

Anyway, the cat did her whole "I do not follow your foolish whims, lower life form. I am a CAT" stare but eventually hopped up on the step next to me and let me pat her a little. I must say, I was pleasantly surprised. This is the cat who refuses to visit me when I am deathly ill and am using up my last ounces of energy to snap my fingers and cluck my tongue and whistle, all in hopes of enticing the cat to visit so I don't feel like a complete doof. Her usual response is to sit innocently in the hallway just outside the door, looking at me as if to say, "I wish I knew what you were trying to say to me. I haven't the faintest idea what you're getting at. Toodles, off to cry until someone feeds me."

So anyway, the cat was standing next to me, allowing me to pat her, then she gave my work-issued smock a sniff and subtly began to edge away. I know why: the smell of Market Basket. (It's not the smell of me. Underneath the smock, I smell flowery and shower-fresh.)

I always knew that Market Basket has a very distinct smell. It's sort of metallic, which I suppose comes from the canned goods, money, etc. But my cat, who has smelled both cans and money before, wouldn't shy away from them. So I must conclude that there is more to the MB's odor than meets the nose. I have broken it down as follows:

Base scent: Metal (coins, cans, carriages, doors, checkout console-thingies, etc.)
With overtones of: Depression, dismay, boredom, false perkiness, grocery items, and soul-crushing defeat
And undertones of: Mild physical pain (from the standing, dontcha know), resentment (of both customers and anyone who ISN'T working at Market Basket), and (surprise!) slight amusement (at the ridiculousness of a good number of the things that go down while one is on duty)

Hmmm, speaking of smell....it seems that a skunk has decided to traipse through my yard. I'm so glad it's summer and ALL THE WINDOWS ARE OPEN. Deee-lish.

As I write this, I'm venting to Jess via AIM, because not only is she my best friend (despite my uncanny ability to turn HER complaints into complaints of my own...because I'm a narcissist and that's what we do best), but she also works at Soul Crushers, Inc. (aka the MB). As such, she is very sympathetic, even when I ramble on for ages without allowing her to get an IM in edgewise:

Me: and then i felt stupid later because i was putting hamburger and hot dog rolls in a bag myself (b/c they're bread and you know how you bag it yourself) and i went to go put the hamburger rolls in with the hot dog ones and i was like (in my head) hmm, that won't all fit. so I took out the hamburger rolls and grabbed the bag with just the two packages of hot dog rolls and the customer dude took the bag and went...
Me: "renee, I'm just gonna rearrange these because i don't want squished hot dog rolls."
Me: okay. bastard.
Me: i mean, a.) how exactly will two packages of hot dog rolls squish EACH OTHER?
Jess: people like that are annoying.
Me: b.) you don't need to ANNOUNCE it to me. I mean, i know I'm an employee and you're a customer so you can just piss all over me if you feel like it, but it's RUDE.
Me: and c.) YOU DON'T KNOW ME. DON'T CALL ME BY NAME JUST BECAUSE MY TAG SAYS IT.
Me: that's in case you're being accidentally fed into the cardboard compactor in the back and you need to know my name so you can shout "RENEE! HELP ME! I'M BEING FED INTO THE CARDBOARD COMPACTOR!" and specifically get my attention.
Jess: because that happens all the time. xD but I get what you're saying.
Me: oh, it WOULD have happened if i had anything to say about it.
Me: except in that scenario, the customer would be screaming, "RENEE! NO! I'M SORRY! PLEASE DON'T FEED ME TO THE CARDBOARD COMPACTOR!"

That's right. Beg for mercy. Do it. Remember who you're dealing with. This chick is crazy. We're talking "assigns-a-smell-to-her-place-of-employment, contemplates-imaginary-parties-with-imaginary-guests, fantasizes-about-feeding-customers-to-the-cardboard-compactor" CRAZY.

And then she blogs about it.

That's either very healthy (cathartic) or very disturbing ("Publicizes fantasy life," my future shrink will perhaps note.)

At any rate, it's ME. Peace out (for now).

10 Things to Do When Your Internet is Down

10. Scroll down your favorites list, looking at all the sites you want but can't access.
9. Play Minesweeper.
8. I mean actually play it, not just click randomly until you die.
7. Clean out your "My Documents" folder.
6. Get distracted by all the weird stuff you actually saved in your "My Documents" folder four years ago and have never re-viewed until now.
5. Continually refresh your Internet, in hopes that the torture has ended. (It has to eventually. IT MUST!!!)
4. Smack your computer monitor as if it were a person you were smacking upside the head.
3. Customize the Minesweeper window so it's 24x36 with only ten mines. Maybe now you'll finally win.
2. Silently (or not-so-silently) curse your Internet provider, modem, wireless connection, computer, store that sold you the modem and the wireless connection, etc.
1. Permanently delete Minesweeper from your computer. Take that, you smarmy bugger.

Charo's Best Contribution to the World

Okay, so I went out to dinner tonight in Cambridge (a bit of a hike, but it proved to be worth it) at this really neat restaurant called Cuchi Cuchi (yes, from Charo's catchphrase, thus the title of this entry). The food was awesome - it was served "straight-up" (lots of little portions to share with everyone at your table), so I naturally ate twice my body weight in food - couscous, mushroom risotto, Gratin Dauphinois (cheesy, creamy potatoes), marinated mushrooms, Asian salad, fried artichoke hearts, and a Mexican deep fried tomato. Good stuff, I tell you. We ordered four desserts - cheesecake, chocolate cake, French Banana Bread Extravaganza, and a "Cornucopia," which was basically fresh fruit with some creamy stuff served in a cone-shaped wafer-thing, thus the name.

The whole experience was just fantabulous - from drinks to food to dessert to the sugar cubes that were served with the coffee (not being a coffee drinker, I satisfied myself with eating four sugar cubes, straight up. I should have outgrown this taste in, oh, fifth grade, but I didn't).

So, yeah. If you're in the Cambridge area and you're looking for a really unique "dining experience" (to put it like a real restaurant reviewer and not just an overstuffed, sugar-addicted blogger), Cuchi Cuchi (http://www.cuchicuchi.cc/) is definitely a place to check out (if you don't mind prices that are a bit on the steep side).

Blame Ryan

Oooh boy, a brand-spanking new thing for me to waste time on! As if incessantly checking my email and facebook accounts wasn't enough to contribute to my brain rot, I now have this blog (ding-sparkle-sparkle). Hurrah! I can now torture others with my insane and useless thoughts on everything.

But don't blame me. Blame Ryan. On Sunday he had to go and make the following comment: " I wish Renee had a blog. I'd so read it."

Well, wish granted, Ryan. You might be the ONLY one who reads it (besides my narcissistic self, of course), but that's beside the point.

At any rate, I have nothing more to say at this point. You'd think that I would, considering I just went through the trouble of getting an account (an arduous three-step process), but alas and alack, I do not.

And so ends the first of what I assume will be more than a few anti-climactic posts. You know who to blame.