I was inspired by subtle’s movie post to make one of my own.  BUT, because it’s me, there’s a twist. 

(EDIT #1 – I’ve added the years each movie came out.)

(Edit #2 – What the hell, I’m adding the number of words in each correct title following the year.)

I want to see if you guys have got any puzzle-skillz.

So I’m going to list fourteen movies – all movies I really like – except with alternate titles I’ve invented.  The coded names may derive from synonyms, chemical equations, homonyms, idioms – whatever my twisted brain wants.

Some are total gimmies.  Some you’ll get with some google searching.  Some might be harder, I dunno.  I’ll do a couple examples first, just in case anyone is buh?-ing out there.

Example: “Dudes’ Bambinos”  = Children of Men

(This is pretty straightforward synonym usage.  Dudes are men… Bambinos are babies, offspring, children…  So it’s the children of men.)

Example: “The Octagon for Fowl” = The Birdcage

(This one requires a little more thinking. Fowl is obviously bird or birds. Check.  But an octagon is an eight-sided figure, not a synonym for cage.   So what gives?  Well, “The Octagon” is a trademarked phrase used to describe the cage in UFC cagefighting, and any UFC viewer would know that.  But if you don’t watch UFC?  You could still figure it out with a little effort and a few of those Google skills. Try it out. Do a quick Google image search for the octagon and of the first 14 pictures, 7 of them are UFC cages, or fighters in the cage.  One of the pictures is even helpfully titled “The Octagon Cage.”)

Oh, and whoever gets the most right can have a prize!  To be determined once I figure out who the winner is.  Not because I love any of you less, but because the prize should suit the winner.  And also ‘casue I’m too lazy to think up anything now.

(I’ll attempt to set comments for this post to be moderated after I post this, without making comments for all posts moderated.  If I fail, please don’t blame me. It will be entirely my fault, yes, I’m just asking nicely if you’ll blame someone else.)

ETA: Okay, so, I can’t figure out if I’m able to moderate comments on just one post.  So I’ll just click the “all comments must be approved by an administrator” button thingy for now. If I did that right (a big IF)…  All comments are going to be moderated for a couple days while we play the movie game! But I’m working from home and my email pings on my phone, so I’ll be quick to approve comments that appear on  OTHER posts.  The ones for this post will be be kept in queue until I decide the contest is over.  Which will be random, I’m sure.)

So…  Without further ado, suss these out, guys!

• Ferrous Sulfate Hominid (2008 – 2 words, but it’s often smooshed into one)
• In a Domicile for Celebrations (1995 – 4 words)
• Early Morning(ish) Pitch, Oh! (2001 – 2 words)
• An Aberrant Person in the U.S. (2000 – 2 words)
• As₂O₃ with an Antiquated Item from the Belgian Cradle (1944 – 4 words)
• The Cachet (2006 – 2 words)
• Celebrity Slog (2009 – 2 words)
• Toast (1995 – 1 word)
• Wounded Buttoner (2009 – 2 words)
• A Flibbertijibbet, Will-o’-the wisp Clown Packed Tight with Polish (2004 – 4 words)
• Really Loves Company (1990 – 1 word)
• Jogging with Chilly Feet (2006 – 2 words)
• Perps on Par (1995 – 3 words)
• What Everyone Is Doing in the Stool Capital of the U.S. (1997 – 3 words)
  

So…  I was sitting in my email a moment ago, responding to a couple of emails and writing one to The Man… And, as one does, I was relating information that is probably better kept inside my own head…

And I thought to myself, “Self, you should tell the internet at large, instead of doing what you SHOULD be doing, which is working on your second job while sitting at your first…”

And so I shall tell the internet at large. Obviously, I’m at work.  I’m almost seven hours into a sixteen hour shift.  I am tired.

Most of the actual work is finally done since Leslie (the woman in residence I assist/medicate/become frustrated with) goes to bed at 8:00pm.  After 8:00pm, I have a few minutes to myself.

Those few minutes lasted about thirty seconds, because my roommate Anne called to talk about a crucial topic known as absolutely-nothing-whatsoever.  (It included such gems as “I don’t understand why cars still go slowly after they’ve merged.”  Have I mentioned she’s a biomedical engineer who is really VERY bright?  She is.  She’s just also adorably random and strange in ways that make her appear slightly brain damaged.  I love her.)

So, after she decided she should get off the phone, I texted my boss to say, “Hey, guess what?  Everything is done here, I’m bored, and I want the network key for the wireless, kthnx.”

Because my boss is awesome, she gave it to me.  SO OMG, I’M ONLINE!  Well, I was.  For a few minutes. It was a hell of a novelty.  I haven’t been online at work in easily four months.  I get here at eleven or midnight most nights – there just isn’t a lot of internet time, yanno?

ANYWAY. At about 8:30pm,  I realized (with quite a large amount of shock considering I’ve been getting my period for a solid 16 years) that when bleeding out my twat, I require tampons, and I hadn’t brought any extras along on my 16-hour shift.  So I woke up Leslie, who is DOPED to the sky on phenobarbital, and dragged her drooly, sleepy, literally-retarded ass out to the work car (since mine is packed with cool things like muffin tins and a Kitchen Aid from moving more stuff from my dad’s) and drove to a convenience store, went and got tampons, drove back, and falsified the mileage log for the car.  Am I good or what?

In related news, here was The Man’s reply to that last paragraph…

I like hearing about your twat.
MOAR TWAT STORIES!
Very slick with the forgery stuff. I’m proud of you.

And now I’m stuck here pondering who that guy is, and what he’s done to Antonio.  Because, fer serious yo, up until about three days ago, the only person in this relationship who used words like “moar” was ME.  He texted me “wuv” the other day too.

O_O

He’s on drugs.  I’m sure of it.

(This post brought to you courtesy of the copy-and-paste function.)

So the Beautiful Blogger stuff made rounds recently, but I was mega busy and couldn’t doooooo it.

So I’m doing it now because the incomparable Biddable (still owe you emails and lovin’.  I have not forgotten!) gave it to me! And also because I’ll take any excuse to spew random facts about myself. I’m going to skip the “give it to three other people” part because I think this thing has run its course.

I’m supposed to tell you seven things you DON’T already know about me.  I am a habitual over-sharer, though, so this might be hard.  Maybe I’ll just show you random pictures of things, and pretend it’s new information even though some of it might not be…  Okay?  Okay.

1 – This Is What My Handwriting Looks Like – This is pretty self explanatory, hey?  This is what my handwriting looks like when I’m not trying super hard, but  AM trying to be readable.  I’ve already had my handwriting analyzed by someone who used to do it for the U.S. government (terrifyingly accurate, btw) so I don’t think you can tell me anything I don’t know, but feel free to have at it.

2 – I <3 Greeting Cards –  I love them so much I MAKE them. These are “Thinking of you…” ones I made and sent to troops overseas last year (so they could mail them home to their family). Patrick told me if anyone had sent HIM cards like that while he was deployed, he would have burned them.  Nice.

3 – These are Two of My Favorite Things – A book of poetry by Pablo Neruda (with both the original Spanish and English translations), and my friend Itty’s journal.  You can’t have them.  They’re MINE.  Neener neener neener!

4 – This is (a small picture of) Harrison   He’s  taking a picture of himself in a reflective sphere. Then he used the computer to flatten out and un-distort the image. Or… something.  I dunno, I don’t understand these things.  And I ended up with a tiny copy of the image, not the real full-size image.   All I know is that’s my baby brother, about two years ago. I figure it’s anonymous enough to show you. 

So there you go.

5 – This is Patrick and Anne.  Yeah, he’s throwing her in a shower. I cropped the picture, so what you can’t see is that the water is ON right there. What you can see is that they are destroying EVERYTHING.  I don’t have much else to say about that, except I’m exceedingly glad I captured the moment. (Oh, if you don’t know, Anne is my roommate, and Patrick is my brother-ish.)

6 – I Made This. Years and years ago.  It’s a cake.  A bunny-shaped cake. A bunny-shaped CARROT cake.  Do you see what I did there?  I’m clever.  (P.S. – That was the baby cake.  There was a mama bun-bun who was bigger.  But I  lost the pictures of that one.) And sorry this is overexposed.

7 -  Before My Precious iPhone, I Owned a Razr.  It had ONE distinct advantage over my iPhone –  A LIVE CACTUS! Itty sent me a live cactus cell phone charm and it was slightly PINK so it matched and omg!  I ADORED it.  Probably to an unhealthy degree. One of the little ones I nannied for took it one day and smashed it against a table, breaking it’s little cactus-stem.  I gasped and said, “Ruth!  You broke it!  It’s going to die now.”  She gasped right back and said, “I didn’t break it!  I set it free.”   Wench.

BONUS #8 OMG!  This is Antonio’s Arm.  Sometimes, he likes to injure himself at work and either not tell me about it, or accidentally let slip, “And then I smashed my finger, and it popped like a grape!” or “And then I splashed hot tar on myself!” and I SWEAR he does it with glee.

I immediately go into panic mode and he backpedals, realizing (as if for the first time, EVERY time) who he’s dealing with.  And he’ll tell me it’s BARELY a mark and he can’t even see it anymore and it doesn’t hurt and he wouldn’t have even known he had hurt himself such a teensy weensy bit if it hadn’t been for me hounding him and asking if he got hurt at work, and really the burn is more like a feathery tingle, you know, the kind you feel after a butterfly alights upon your arm, and honestly, it’s so tiny it makes a paper cut look atrocious and gory…

And then sometimes he shows me pictures of the “less-than-a-paper-cut” injury.

I think he has himself deluded into thinking it will somehow make me agree with him and go, “Burn?  What burn. I don’t see a burn!”  The reality is, it makes me say things more like “For the love of all things holy, would you PLEASE put some antibacterial stuff on there? You’re going to get an infection and it’ll be so gross and it’s going to be a huge scar and FORFUCKSSAKE WOULD IT KILL YOU TO BE MORE CAREFUL AT WORK AND NOT BURN CHUNKS OF YOUR FLESH AWAY?”

(As you can see, he clearly under-reacts and I clearly overreact. It’s all good – it’s just one more small way in which we balance each other out.)

Well, that’s all for the moment, kiddos.  Hope you are all just endlessly fascinated with me.   I was ALL chipper and awake this morning, after only about 5-6 hours of sleep. But now I’m TIRED again.  I blame you guys. For no real reason, I just do.

**** I somehow screwed this ALL up, and posted Part II on TOP of the first part… So now Part I has to be reposted.  And it’s all out of order.  I trust you’re all smart enough to figure this out. ****

So… I’ve more or less settled into my new digs.  I’ve entirely lost my camera.  (It  has been missing for months, but I had it in my head I’d find it when I moved.  No luck.)  One of these days – perhaps one when I actually have extra money – I’ll get a new one.  And take pictures of the cute itty bitty condo.  It’s adorable here.  Small, but functional.  I had a hell of a time figuring out how to fit things in my room since it’s so tiny, but I think I’ve got it figured out.

Right now, I’m gonna catch up on the last of the March Q&A stuff.  Brace yourselves for awesomeness.

I WAS gonna do this yesterday or the day before, because I had traveled to my mother’s house… I figured I’d have all kinds of peace and quiet.  Which I did have, actually.  For two reasons.  One, whoever stayed in her house last lost the TV remote.  And two, her wireless network is secured now, only Mom INSISTS that it’s not and sadly, it turns out I can’t hack the gibson. 

I got some reading done at least.

Anyway… Questions!

From my secret bff, Sanna:

Have you heard of Slik Naturals vegan makeup? Do you use it? If not, what vegan makeup DO you use?

Nope.  Haven’t heard of it!  So no, I don’t use it. As far as which vegan makeup I DO use… I don’t have any yet. 

I know, I know, I should be shot for being as non-girly as I am lately.  But I put on makeup once a month.  If that. I have some old eyeshadows, mascara, and blush.  Thatz it. No, wait, I also have lip glosses. I know I  should replace my makeup every X number of months, but I’m just too cheap to replace something I’ve used twice.  Maybe at some point this year I’ll suck it up and buy more makeup, and then I’ll search around for cruelty-free stuff.  (If you have any great ideas, feel free to share!)

From Biddable:

Wanna come up to Canada and have beers, now that patio weather is on the horizon?

HELL TO THE YES.  I already have a plan, in fact.  I’m going to check out your IP address, hope that will give me a general idea of where you live, then wander around asking strangers if they know where Biddable and Captain Fantastic live.  I don’t know Canada all that well, but I’m confident here in the US it would be a matter of a couple hours before I was detained by police.

Also, I owe you emails and lots of lovin’.  You rock, and I want to make your soup.  (Did that sound borderline dirty to anyone else?  What?  No. Shut up.)

From adriannabella:

Ok have been reading this since January of 2009. Have you ever seriously considered that you will never move with Antonio. That perhaps he is married or otherwise involved? Just a question think about it.

The short answer is “Yes, I have seriously considered it.  But not because he’s married or otherwise involved.”

The slightly-longer answer is this… First, props to you for asking an uncomfortable question.  I’m sure there are many people wondering the same thing, and some of them wouldn’t want to ask.  Yes, I have seriously questioned whether or not Antonio will ever move out of his apartment and get us a place together. I think about it every day.  More and more with each passing day, in fact. His current state of mind doesn’t help. He seems disinterested in me, in life, in connecting with anyone or doing anything forward-moving. It’s distressing on good days, and panic-inducing on bad days.  Sometimes, I feel I’m losing hope.

But I don’t believe he is married, or otherwise involved. There are none of the signs or signals of anything like that.  I’ve been to his apartment (which he shares with two roommates.)  I know it’s his home address because I’ve seen his mail (plus, you know, all of his crap is there)… and it’s VERY clear there is no woman cleaning up his room.  Painfully, horribly, crystal clear. So clear, I really can’t even begin to describe it, guys.  Anyway… There are no restrictions set on me under the guise of slavehood that prevent me from contacting him by cell phone, by his home phone, or from sending him dopey mail in boxes covered in hearts with the return address using “your girl” instead of my name. Everything from how and when he talks to me, to how he’s chucked me on the phone with his friend to throw me off track when I’m gearing up for a good self-indulgent whine fest, to how unprotected his computer and gmail manager are, to the way his apartment is, to the way he eats… Well, they are all the exact opposite of how a man with a hidden girlfriend/wife would act. He’s not hiding anyone else.

(He could be married to a woman in a coma. That’s possible.  Probable even.  In fact, I’m 96% sure that’s the reality. He’s married to a coma patient!  Yay, mystery solved!  He ought to visit her more, though.  He’s never at the hospital. Tsk.)

The reason we wouldn’t move in together would be if he simply doesn’t care about me anymore and has no desire to have me around.  He has lived alone (or with roommates who aren’t involved in his life or his personal space) for a LONG time, and it shows.  I often wonder if he wants to live alone more than he wants to have a fuller life with someone to share it with.  He’s shouted at me over twisting venetian blinds open before because it’s not Exactly What He Would Do If He Were Alone There, and instead of explaining the reason he jumped right to shouting and being offended that I could possibly do something “wrong” in “his” space. (Like I said, it SHOWS that he’s lived alone for a large percentage of his years.)

I know he would like someone around to cook and clean and suck dick.  But on my bad days, I’m not convinced he even likes me enough that the cooking/cleaning/dick-sucking could balance out the need to have “okay, what time do you need the shower so I can plan around that, and when are we going grocery shopping?” conversations and the possibility that he could walk in the house one day and find the lights aren’t turned on precisely the way he wants them, despite never having articulated how it is he wants them turned on…

I know a portion of this is simply a reflection of my inability to think I have any worth, and my despair at being long-distance.  The question is not really if my idiocy is coloring my perception…. It IS coloring my perception.  The question is, by how much?  That, I don’t know.

(Part Two with subtle’s questions posting in a moment!)

From subtle:

1. What colour is your hair? 

I’m giving the “long and 90% unrelated answer” to this one.  Do excuse.

Here’s the really atrocious and insensitive way I describe my coloring to people: Hitler probably wouldn’t have put me in a propaganda campaign, but he’d have nodded, smiled and been like, ‘Yeah, she’s cool.’ 

My heritage is German, Scottish, Dutch, English, and Irish. I have pale skin that burns in the sun and steadfastly refuses to tan.  In the summer, I get freckles across my nose, and the tops of my shoulders are permanently freckled from working in the Tennessee sunshine.  My nose is round and hideous and my eyes are an unremarkable blue. My mouth is stupid and if you look closely you’ll see it’s lopsided, which is due to botched neck surgery when I was little.  The corners of my mouth turn down a little bit, and I think it makes me look like a sad, ugly turtle. 

My hair I refer to (lovingly, of course) as “filthy blonde.”  It’s not brown but it’s not blonde.  It’s not even dirty blonde.  It’s FILTHY blonde, and it annoys me (but I can’t help but be fond of it). It’s unruly and long and gah!  That said, I typically dye/highlight it a bit.  Depending how broke I am, and how long it’s been since a professional does it, it varies from blonde to reddish, but the red is accidental.  I hate the red.  I really enjoy highlights though, they grow out better than all-out dye. I went through my pictures and pulled this one out by way of demonstration.  Please note how stupid it looks, and how badly it needed to be cut.  I look homeless, I swear.

2. Would you like to be in a relationship where you had to relinquish all financial independence?

That depends.  If I was out earning all the money, working my tail off, and STILL had to relinquish all the money?  I’d probably be pissy.  Besides, the field I’m transitioning into wouldn’t really allow me to DO my job properly and advance in it if I had of check with someone before using/spending money.  But if Antonio made all the money, and let’s say I had some small income on the side but I mostly worked from home?  Yeah, I’d be more than happy to not control money at all and be financially dependent.  The only thing I’d want to be sure I was prepared for was some atrocious accident where I NEEDED the ability to access money because he was lying in a hospital or something.  Antonio is an intelligent and prepared kinda guy, though.  He’d have systems in place for eventualities.

3. Should I be worried by my recent inability to spell really simple words?

No.  And misspellings should ALWAYS be passed off as attempts at LOLcat speech. (Because attempting LOLcat speech is WAY cooler than being unable to spell, hey?)

4. Butt secks or vaginal?

Gimme a V!  Gimme an A!  Gimme a G-I-N-A-L!

There is a reason all the lubrication mechanisms and the clitoris are located in the vaginal area.  It’s the right place to have sex. *nods seriously* It feels great, it’s all lubed up, the chances of it being painful are quite low compared to anal sex, and there is no worry that GODDAMN SEWAGE is going to adhere to either you or your partner’s vital mucus membranes.

I mean, okay, under the right circumstances, with the right warm-up, with the proper amount of stimulation, anal sex can be really, really hot.  No denying that. 

But if you give me the choice, I choose the baby-maker hole, not the putrid-fecal-matter-maker hole.  A whole lot less worry about “Oh God, I’m just going to feel like I have to take a massive shit, aren’t I?  And he’s going to get some infection and die and Oh, God, EW!” goes into vaginal sex, yanno? 

5. Bondage or beating?

I dismiss the question on the grounds that it’s mean to try to force me to choose between them.  I do not want either/or.  I want both.  *nods*    I guess lighter on the bondage, heavier on the beating would be the closest I can come to choosing.

6. Can I still get an answer to these questions because I was officially away in March?

You totally got answers.  But not because you were away in March… Because I’ll pretty much answer questions year round.  March is just the time I get to emotionally blackmail you guys into asking them.

Incidentally, my roommate just texted me.  APPARENTLY she’s shipping off to Latin America for a few days for work, starting tomorrow at stupid o’clock in the morning.  Short notice, hey? I have the distinct feeling she will be awake ALL night packing/cleaning/etc. until she leaves at 3:00am or 4:00am or whatever for the airport.  I bet I get roped into helping… Hrm…