Lobsterita

Darn Tootin.

What's Your Halloween Costume?

Happy Halloween, all!

Which Buffy Bad Girl Are You?

It amazes me how uncannily these quizzes are written...they've reached right into my brain and plucked out the essence of my being. Sad but True.

Which Simpsons Character Are You?


Am I the ONLY person in Utah who thinks people in Utah get married waaaaay too young? This is insane. I think 1/3 of my high school class was married within a month of graduation, and as I get into college the people around me are saying "I do" more than I say "lets watch some Buffy and eat candy!" If I had a dollar for every serious conversation I've had with 19-23 year old girls about tying the knot I would quite a few bucks stashed under my mattress. The main topics are usually this:
1. I'm almost done with college, and I want to know how long I'll have to wait before that certain someone comes along!
2. I feel sooooo ready for marriage with this guy
3. He dumped me because I wasn't ready for marriage!
4. I know when I am married, I will blah blah blah
5. I know when I am married with children blah blah blah
6. He wants to ask me to a dance, but I don't think he's as serious about dating as I am. I'm looking for a husband at this point.
7. We met at college! We're going to move to (different college town) and he'll finish school and I'll start my family (happy sigh)

The stories are endless. The people are weird. I feel like I'm walking a gauntlet every time I accept a date because I don't know if he'll just date, or if he'll do the mormon equivalent of pressuring sex--and start discussing my feelings about commitmentand children. In this state, you don't do long-term dating. You grab a guy and run for the nearest jewelers. Everyone has scary stories of brushes with matrimony; a friend of mine dated a boy for three months. He gave her "the talk" and when she didn't want to take it beyond dating, he dumped her and stopped speaking to her. One boy in our neighborhood pulled a ring out of his pocket on the third date.
and the classic, happens so often it should be on a warning brochure passed out on street corners to college freshmen:
"I've had a revelation/vision/good churchy mojo feeling/raging hormone fest that you are the one for me."
Well, shucks, if God says so.... wait a minute....maybe it isn't God at all...maybe...its you wanting me not to dump you! Gasp! Could it be?? Nahhh. I guess my notice just got lost in the mail.
People discuss marriage here like they're going to the mall to buy a Gap sweater. "Yeah, sure, I'll get married. Does this guy look alright?"
My only question is this: if you don't even know what classes you want to take this semester, how the hell do you know who the "right guy/girl" for you is? Watch twenty-something people. They fall in and out of things every 15 minutes. I doubt many of them know what they really want for time and all eternity. Marriage is a choice, and I'm all for it at the right time. But this is not the right time. This is the right time to blow money on stupid shoes, discuss half-baked philosophy in cheesy cafes, and watch The Real World on MTV. It is not the time to be making far-reaching decisions because you think marriageability has an expiration date. At least I know why Utah uses more Prozac than any other state. That "impulse buy" at age 20 must be hard to take by the age of 50.

Happy Halloween Eve, everybody! Woo hoo!

I'm sitting here jittery with anticipation in my wrinkled and unflattering khakis because TODAY, today, today, I find out if I got the job I really want to get so I can quit working as a fetch-and-carry Secretary and go back to slinging coffee as we unemployed actresses are wont to do.
For more about how stinky work really is, check out this big chunk of work-sucks manifesto, put together by the wonderful Ms. Bonnie Burton of Grrl.com
Grrl Work

If there is one thing I've learned from moving into a house with only public television, it is this:
CHARLES INGALLS SHOULD BE PRESIDENT!
To fill up all the time I used to spend watching Spongebob Squarepants, Trading Spaces, or that Crime Channel, I've taken up Little House on the Prairie. Its cheesy, good for a laugh, and doesn't require me to any of that pesky thinking. However, after a few months of this, I've come to several conclusions.
1. How does Nelly Olsen have any friends? How did Mrs Olsen ever nab a nice guy like Mr. Olsen? Why does anyone like the Olsens?
Why haven't they been run out of town by now? Why does a family that doesn't like frontiersfolk even live in the frontier in the first place??
2. Charles Ingalls knows everything.

Need someone to build you a stable? Call Charles Ingalls! Need someone to come make you feel great about yourself in the face of adversity? Call Charles Ingalls! Need someone to invent an orthopedic shoe for a crippled little girl that even the town doctor wasn't smart enough to cook up? Once again, call Charles!
So I've come to the conclusion we should make Charles Ingalls President of the Universe. He'd decline anyway, until we changed the title to Humble-Local-Boy-Who-Does-What-He-Can-For-The-Universe, but it would be the same thing. He'd set us all straight on how pretty and clever and talented we all are. He'd hop over to Israel and show those warring factions just how much they have in common and in the end, they'd all throw a barn dance to celebrate their differences. He'd talk crazed snipers down from rooftops before they could fire a shot and get then to volunteer their services to keep the town safe from marauding wild wolves. He'd get crying little girls in schoolyards everywhere drying their tears and skipping off to play in under five seconds flat. We wouldn't need national security organizations, Charles would keep us all safe with only his trusty chopping axe and his good morals. And everynight he would be home in time to kiss his little 'uns goodnight and compliment his wife's cooking.
Charles Ingalls for President! Who's with me?

Okay, so last night wasn't the best Halloweeny time I've ever had, but it had its wonderfully funny moments. The one that sticks in my mind more than any else was a conversation I had with some guy hanging out by the drinks. It went something like this:
Him: hey, why so sad?
Me: I'm not sad.
Him: oh.
(awkward pause)
Him: So you here with your boyfriend? (warning! boys, never, ever use this! stupid stupid!)
Me: No, with my friends.
Him: Do you have a boyfriend?
Me: No.
(awkward pause)
Him: Am I harrasing you?
Me: No, not really
Him: Well some girls over there I was talking to made me stop. They said I was harassing them.
Me: Oh.
(awkward pause)
Him: But I think they were just a bunch of tight ass mormons.
Me: (dead silence)
Him: You're mormon, aren't you?
Me: Yes.
Him: I'll just leave now.
And he did. But it was pretty funny anyway. Everyone thought I was supposed to be Punky Brewster, but thats better than Space Girl in my book anyhow. There were some great costumes there. I saw:
Jesus
Shirley Temple
Xena (Heather, you rule!)
some pink bunnies
Boy Scout
Clean Cut Fifties Boy in Sweater Vest (dreamy sigh)
Some guy wearing meat...okay...
some Hogwarts students

All in all a succesful night of costuming, and dance-craziness. And then I hit a skunk with my car on the way home. The end.

Just running around getting my costume ready for a Halloween dance in Salt Lake. I had the bright idea of making a denim outfit silver with spray-paint for the whole Space-girl theme but now my outfit smells like chemicals. Oh well.
For a better all-around space girl ensemble, check out
Zenon Escape

I know I talk too much. I love acting because there is a script handed to you. I wish my life was a television show so I could have every conversation written by very clever people whose job it was to make me sound spontaneous and sarcastic. In real life, I get caught up in conversations like they were swirly little rivers with rapids in them. The whole thing starts out pretty calm, I can keep a lid on things, but then it gets more intense, and you have all these little thoughts popping into your brain, and before you know it, you're cackling at bad jokes and speaking at the same time as the other person. Its horrible. I want to sound like a sitcom and instead I'm one of those shampoo commercials where all the girls are screaming at the same time. If only there were an invention you could put in your mouth, like an electronic tongue ring that controlled the things coming out of your mouth. If it were a screamingly funny joke, for example, you could say it. If it were something like "that reminds me of an episode of Sex and the City" you would not be able to say anything. I think fitting me with a conversation filter would save a lot of people a lot of headaches. Would Radio Shack offer such a magical device, do you think? Anyone? Anyone?

This is by far the greatest painting the world has ever seen.
The Last Pancake Breakfast

I am a Buffy quiz fanatic. Here's my latest from the Buffyverse something something site:
Well Done!
You've finished the quiz.
Your answers were 100 per cent correct. That's an awesome score - no vampire is safe with you about!

Last night I went out with Taylor, Thayne and Cory. Pretty decent Wednesday night in Salt Lake City.

Watched Thayne play his skateboarding video game for two hours.
Got a magic marker tattoo from Taylor, mistress of sharpie ink.
Went to Coffee Break and got a snack. Cory has an idea for building a couch on skis to take sledding. Sounds shifty to me.
Caught a jazz band at Blue Kats.
Dancing at Area 51

The thing I love about Taylor is just how damn cute she is. She speaks this language only she and a rare few understand. It just makes my day when she talks for other people. "Carrie, do I have to put all these books up today?"- - -and then in this really smarmy voice "Of course not, go and buy some ice cream instead!" The best thing about my freshman year of college was hanging out with her every day. We both worked at Barnes and Noble together. Every night when we got off of work we would go to my apartment and watch South Park and eat candy and pizza. Now she's a drummer in a real band and I'm just trying to get a job at Starbucks.

Linden's Book of the Moment: Girl Culture by Lauren Greenfield. Is there anyone cooler than Lauren Greenfield? The answer is no.

Yes, I know I'm a little bats. I don't eat any vegetables that aren't corn or potatoes. I don't trust green food in general (my only exception is that nifty green ketchup), and I think lime fruit-snacks should be thrown in the trash. I don't eat fish, or mushrooms. I'm cold if the temperature is below 70 degrees. I still buy toys and I love cartoons. I never curl my hair, and I'm terrified of ghosts. In broad daylight I'm afraid of ghosts. Ever since I was five I wanted to be British instead of American, and I still want to move to the U.K. someday. I'm an actress who perpetually suffers from stage fright, and I share a bed with my doberman pinscher (he gets half the pillows and blankets and I get half). I hate small towns and love cities. I'm Mormon but I don't like Utah. I constantly fall in love with boys I know to be gay, and reject the ones who do like me. Go figure.

Hurrah! I have a blog of my very own! I promise to feed it when its hungry, talk to it when its lonely, and let it out to do its oopsies at least once a day. Pretty soon I'll have a website up to link this to. Just remember, this promise is from the same girl who is supposed to write a play, paint an oil painting, and finish an essay collection...and I will do NONE of them, if memory serves. mwahahaha.

I highly recommend everyone go visit http://www.buffysdomain.com
It is colossally radly for anyone with a Buffy the Vampire Slayer fetish. *cough cough* I know there are more of you out there....
Viva le Buffy!