We were watching Star Trek (the old TV series) last night, and I noticed that Spock's eye makeup was really nice. Very subtle and pretty, but definitely obvious that he was wearing eye makeup.

It makes me wonder, though, why they went with that level of eye makeup for a Vulcan. Were they like, "Well, that blue really brings out the color in his uniform and it makes him more of a sympathetic character because it softens his super pointy ears and eyebrows."? 

Because it totally does.

I feel like more men on that show needed some eyeshadow, but not necessarily blue, because that would be overkill. What about Chekov?

See? He could totally use some eye makeup. He looks washed-out in that harvest gold jumpsuit. Maybe it's the hair. That style does nothing for his face. A little lip gloss wouldn't kill him, either. 

What about Uhura, though?

Yeah, she doesn't need anything. She's fierce.

Overall, while I think they had a good start with Spock, the cast of Star Trek really needed more glam. Too bad it's over and done with. Sigh.

Dear Lady who sat next to me at the opera on Saturday night:

Hi, there. I wanted to let you know a few things. First off, your mullet is amazing. What with the length in back and the platinum color, you're giving Rod Stewart a run for his money, and I can appreciate that. It takes guts to pull off a haircut like that at any age, and in your late 70s, even more so. Bravo.

Secondly, I'm terribly sorry your husband has altitude sickness. So is everyone who was seated in our general vicinity that heard you telling anyone who would listen. Loudly. Way to go. It's always nice to get some attention for illnesses, be they yours or another person's. I hope he feels better, because I would bet that you're kind of a nagger, and he needs his strength. I'm sure you're quite the powerhouse, from the way you forcibly pulled people out of conversations with their friends and family to talk to them about your man's illness. So, yeah, sorry about that.

Finally, what made you decide to chew your gum the way you did through the entire second half? I mean, it was an hour or so. Didn't your jaw get tired? It's not that I don't enjoy my operas with an over-layer of chomping, but seriously. Seriously. I felt as though I was sitting next to a cow who was listening to an opera. See, I'm the kind of person that gets very distracted by little things that annoy me, and this, believe it or not, wasn't even a little thing. Believe me. At first, it was merely irritating, but as time went on, I was impressed with the strength and ferocity of your jaw. And the amount of spit. And the general, "I don't give a crap if I'm ruining your opera experience" attitude you seemed to convey.

Oh, and whispering to the guy next to you throughout the opera? Good choice. It didn't bug me at all. Not a bit.

So...thanks for enriching my evening. I hope you have a great week, lady.

Here's a fashion tip: If you're going to wear overalls (and you totally should), please please please make sure you wear an old white tank top underneath, and please make sure you're not wearing a bra.

Wait. Did I not mention that this is a tip for the ladies? Because it is. Especially the ladies who are over 60.

Make sure that everyone who sees you during your day gets to experience that exhilarating feeling caused by wondering whether or not your ginormous boobs are going to make an exit out of the loose armholes of your old tank top.

Also, try to lean on counters as much as possible so you can prop those bad boys up on the counter, leaving a boob sweat patch behind. Oh, and stand with your chest pushed out awkwardly, displaying the...um...sticky outy part of your goods, so that no one is left in doubt as to your braless status.

Finally, be as loud and obnoxious as possible so that everyone in every place you go turns around and gets to see the glorious wonder of your outfit.

No one wants to miss out on that. Fo sho.

Too many days with not quite enough sleep just hit me in the face. It's not been like I haven't been able to sleep or anything, I just wake up right around 5:30 or 6:00, no matter what time I went to bed. This weekend there was a night where I went to bed at around 1:00, so...yeah...not so good. In my 20s, perhaps, but now that I am firmly entrenched in my 30s, I need my sleep. A lot.

And this morning, it just slapped me upside the head and I think I may be semi-insane today.

I figure if I make my crazy a choice, I'll feel better about it, even though I really don't have much of a say in the matter. Not to mention that I have a ten-hour day at work today, followed by a rehearsal in a town an hour away. It's going to be a long one.

That's what she said.

Oh my goodness. It is totally going to be like that ALL DAY. I am going to find myself hilarious. I don't know that anyone else will, but will I care? Probably not. I think this calls for a picture. This represents my day today.

Heck yes. It's going to be ridiculous.

Well, I may not have gone on a walk on Monday, but I did get some exercise by cleaning out all of the appliances in my kitchen. Yeah. Gross.

Actually, they weren't as bad as they could've been, but when my house smells different after the cleaning, it makes me wonder if my house smelled like dirty washing machine or dirty dishwasher before.

Argh. The dishwasher.

The machine itself isn't dirty; it has something coming up from the base and we can't figure out how to open up the thingy to look inside. Or, rather, I can't figure it out and my husband is having a little difficulty bending down to do it after bruising/cracking some ribs over the weekend.

Seriously, though, they should make self-cleaning appliances that really self-clean. This having to clean my cleaner crap is b.s. Our washing machine had so much soap buildup on the top that the rag I used to clean it was completely black when I was finished, and my arm still hurts from all of the scrubbing.

Scrubbing, you guys. Scrubbing. And I'm a pretty neat person, I just got out of my usual cleaning schedule when I was sick and I haven't gotten back into it.

Next week will be ceiling fans. I lead a very, very exciting life. Try not to be jealous.

Still. Self-cleaning appliances that require no effort on my part. I guess I'm going to have to invent that, too. Geez. What are all of the inventors doing with their time?

On a related note, I think I need to get a dog.

I'd like to be one of those people that gets up in the morning and says, "Yay! It's a beautiful day! Let's go for a run!" Sadly, I am not. In my house, it's more like, "Yay! Let's go have some cereal and sit on our butts and watch cartoons!"

Yeah. I should probably be realistic. Going for a run would be a stretch, but even feeling like going for a walk without throwing up my cereal would be nice.

I've been trying to convince myself for the last half hour that I should get out there now, while it's not hot and gross outside, but I can't seem to get up the energy to haul my big old butt out of my chair and exchange my pjs for walking clothes.

And bending over to put on socks and shoes? Out of the question.

I know I'm going to have to do it eventually, unless I want to weigh 400 pounds (I'm not exaggerating...I could very easily get there). The problem is, it takes me so long on days when my schedule is flexible enough for me to pick my time that by the time I get to it, it's hot and miserable and I think it may kill me. For reals.

Alright. Enough of this. I may have talked myself into it. Maybe.

Maybe.

Or maybe not...ugh.

We have joined the 21st century and started watching The Walking Dead. We hardly watch any shows that are actually on TV right now, so that's kind of a new thing in our house, but it's really good.

And really gory.

It's strange that I'm not bothered at all when it comes to zombies, because I am the biggest horror movie avoider of them all. I'm like a first-grade girl. A first-grade girl who has to change the channel when certain movie previews come on, because they scare the crap out of her.

Some previews show enough that I can guess the rest of the movie, or, at least, make up the rest of the movie in my imaginative little head, and what happens next (in my head) is usually way worse than what happens in the movie.

Yeah. So I just don't.

But zombies? Not scary. Maybe it's because they're so slow. I watch those things and think, "I could stay very, very quiet in a dark room and only go out during the day. Oh, and also, I would totally look INSIDE the abandoned cars. Plus, I would carry a baseball bat with me and just beat the crap out of them."

I think I'd be good. I really do.

And, when you kill them, you feel like you're putting them out of their misery and that's nice. I also think that maybe if we all washed our hands a little more, we could avoid the zombie thing. I don't know how. I just like to think of that.

In case you haven't seen it, here's a picture. I like how they put the zombie in it, and she's got her head all tilted to the side and her mouth open, like she's saying, "Heeeeeeeeey!"

Happy Friday!

Well, I'm back from my trip. We never mention going on trips before we go, because we're a little paranoid about break-ins. Yep, we're those people. Anyhow, we spent a week at my uncle and aunt's beautiful cabin (which is larger and nicer than most people's houses, mine included) in the mountains and did a whole lot of nothing.

Doing nothing is amazing.

We also got to see tons of wild animals, including baby deer and wild turkeys (the animal, not the alcohol), and have two birthday cakes (one made by my super cool family and one made by me) and see my Grandma.

And my Grandma remembered who I was the whole time we were there, which just made my day, AND she knew who my husband was, too. I love my Grandma so much, and that makes me really happy.

Anyway, I'm back. More later, but I was sure all five people who read this were terribly concerned not to get to read my musings upon farts and poop and the like. Have a super Thursday!

What is it about Chicken McNuggets that is so good? I know, in my brain, that there is not a lot of chicken in there, and there's a whole lot of nugget, which is really kind of scary if you think about it, and they soak/fry it in hot oil, which is tremendously bad.

Still, though. Every once in a while, they call to me. Their nuggety goodness beckons from up on the hill and I have to go.

I have to.

Then, about three hours later, my stomach always protests.

So why do I do that?

Yesterday was that day, and they were totally awesome, so it was worth it. I guess. Except that this morning I started thinking about it and it grosses me out because I know there's some kind of mystery in that crispy delicious fried breading outside, probably involving pink slime and some other mysterious substances. 

Not the kind of mystery Scooby-Doo solves. An icky mystery that would probably make the gang puke.

But still.

Still.

I know I'll do it again. It's only a few times a year, and that Sweet 'n' Sour Sauce just compounds the awesomeness to a level that could make my head explode.

Ew, though. Ew. I know. But it's fried.