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Viva la Revolution! :: Death By Movies : We Do It So You Don’t Have To

September 5, 2012 Leave a comment

Viva la Revolution! :: Death By Movies : We Do It So You Don’t Have To.

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Catapults are for people who are too damned lazy to fling themselves through the air using more creative methods.

September 8, 2011 7 comments

So, I’m sitting here trying to figure out what to write and I’ve been out of meds for my anxiety for over 24 hours.  I’ve had anxiety disorder since 2006 (possibly longer, but that’s the year that I started showcasing the crazy for public consumption).  I’ve gone through different meds and therapy options, within my limited income, and finally found a medication that works better than anything else I’ve tried.  Unfortunately, it’s very expensive, which often results in me going without and becoming a hermit until the meds can be bought.

Unmedicated anxiety disorder is like being shoved naked into the path of oncoming traffic: you’re not sure you’ll survive the day, but your dignity is now up for grabs.

Most of my coping mechanisms revolve around the important principles of distraction and self-delusion.  I’ve gotten fairly good at both.  Unfortunately, my distractions vary wildly, and frequently, depending on the amount of unmedicated stress that has just hit me in the face.  This would be why I have trouble blogging sometimes… you try to write when you’re head-underwater and have developed a level of anxious paranoia reserved for fugitives and politicians’ mistresses.

Tomorrow is one of my husband’s paydays, though, so we should be able to refill my prescription in the morning.  Today, I plan to do what I can to vent steam… I have come up with the following list of activities to (hopefully) provide catharsis and stave off panic attacks:

  1. Finish a knitting/crochet project or two. ~  I always feel better when I get that “Hah! See what I just did, bitches?” high.  You know what I’m talking about.
  2. Clean the house until I pass out from heat exhaustion.  ~  Usually reserved for times of utmost pissiness, housecleaning is something I do to give myself time to think, calm down, and silently plot the deaths of those who oppose me.  I can get pretty creative with a bottle of Clorox wipes and a toaster.  Do not fucking test me.
  3. Play World of Warcraft.  ~ I figure, after I teach Siobhan how to forage for her lunch and afternoon snack, and tie a hospital-grade adult diaper to her ass, that’ll buy me somewhere in the ballpark of six hours to pretend I’m a gun-shooting werewolf on a vendetta against anything that moves.  (Also, fake money is like crack for people who have no real money. My werewolf can sell a moldy pair of boots for two gold pieces.  I can’t sell a pair of earrings for ten bucks.)
  4. Finish unpacking until back gives out.  ~  I plan to turn this into a game, to keep it interesting.  I love my husband, but rearranging his face because all the unpacking has been left to me while he’s at work has become a favorite fantasy of mine the last two days.  I think I should unpack on the principle of counter-intuition:  socks in the junk drawer, junk in the pillowcase, deoderant in the vacuum, vacuum in the dresser, anti-depressants in the spice rack, and craft supplies in the underwear drawer.  It’ll be like a treasure hunt of awesome!
  5. Paint murals on the neighbors’ cars.  ~  I’ve given this one a lot of thought.  I’m fairly certain our next door neighbor’s kids would love a Tardis hiding in the Metreon Cascade on the windshield.  No one will ever see them coming.
  6. Teach Siobhan how to game with the best.  ~  This one could prove difficult, as the Wii remote makes me seem like I haven’t played Mario a day in my life.  I used to rock that shit every Sunday at Marie Calendar’s while my parents waited for a table.  Like hell I can’t goomba-stomp with the best!  However, tradition holds that whatever I think I’m good at, my daughter will be better.  She was playing Street Fighter 4 on her daddy’s arcade-style fight stick when she was a year old.  Ergo, training her early ensures that she’ll kick Justin Wong’s ass by the time she’s five.
  7. Write a book.  ~  On a slightly more serious note, I’m actually kicking around ideas for geeky pattern books in my head… I’ve got at least two knitting books, a nonfiction plot line, and a fiction plot line kicking around in my head.  Whether or not I can write on any of them remains to be seen.
  8. Create more stuff for my store. ~  If you haven’t been to my store yet, for shame.  It’s not got much in there yet, though, so the ritual floggings will be suspended.  The problem with this plan, though, is that it means digging through random unpacked crap in search for more random unpacked crap with which to make stuff.  I’ll reserve this for the moment before I kill someone in the face.
  9. Poke at fellow bloggers on Twitter for shits and giggles.  ~  It always makes me feel better when I can make someone spit-take on their monitor, or just run screaming into the night from the horrifying mental imagery.  Honestly, I consider either a win.  (Spit-taking is considerably better for site traffic, however, so we’re aiming for that…)
  10. Teach Siobhan to yodel.  ~  Dignity is overrated.  I figure if I teach her an interesting skill, she’ll make a killing as a street performer.  Of course, it would have been easier if I’d had twins, so I didn’t have to contend with child performer labor laws… Maybe I should teach her pickpocketing instead…
  11. Exercise. ~ There’s a reason this is at the bottom of the list.  It’s too fucking hot to do it.  However, the Wii is set up, and I haven’t touched Wii Fit in months… if it gets cooler, maybe…

 

What do you think?  Any other ideas for distracting one’s self from anxiety issues?

Thug Slytherin 4 Life, Boyyyyyy….

July 11, 2011 3 comments

After a week (again) of not posting, I decided to force myself to write about something, and forced myself to read the news for something juicy to snark about.

Yahtzee.

No. Not the Brit-stuck-in-Australia-who-does-hy-fucking-sterical video game reviews, but an expression of “Holy fuck, guys! I found Marshall Mathers’ British clone! …And he’s really creepy.”

Seriously. Tom Felton (Draco Malfoy from the Harry Potter franchise, for those of you uninitiated by fanatical husbands and even-more-rabidly-fanatical friends) has announced that he’s going to go after a white hip-hop career, a la N-Dubz.

You frighten me, kiddo.

I mean, if you can get around the fact that the kid’s basically been immortalized as the embodiment of all-things-bad-for-Harry-Potter-until…hark!-a-conscience!, then by all means: brave that rhythmical frontier.  He would certainly not be the first HP kid to try to force the world to let him/her grow up.

If, on the other hand, you remember rolling your eyes at Emma Watson’s underage drinking photos, and Daniel Radcliffe’s “Look, fuckers, I’m old enough to sleep with your daughter…or this horse, maybe…” photos, then you already have a basis for mistrust of this new career choice.

Felton has also said that he plans to wigger-fy his image, with backward ball caps (…Uh, Tom? We know you’ve been trying to kill Harry Potter in the face for the last ten years, but the 90’s called: they want their ridiculously-intimidating fashion trend back…), saggy clothes, etc.

Tom Felton

Fo' shizzle, mah wizzle...

I can totally get behind doing something because your heart tells you it’s what you’re meant to do… But please be prepared for the ridicule of fans who, for some reason, were shocked when your testicles dropped between Potter movies.  And while millions of slobbering teenage fangirls may, indeed, consider you a studly fuckmuffin who can do no wrong, rest assured that there are people here (like me) to gloriously revel in your inevitable assfaced baboonery — I mean, no offense… I just don’t like rap.

I am, however, surprisingly okay with evil blonde kids with entitlement issues… as long as they congregate in an area far enough away from my normal routines.  There are certain things in life that you have to claim moral indignation at, before secretly enjoying watching the progress.  This is the foundation upon which our Western hemisphere has been built, people.

So, while I picture Draco Malfoy rapping about the death of Dumbledore and his crazy wand-fondling aunt, Bellatrix — I’m picturing a floating crown and a giant gold clock on a chain of snakes — I’m also seeing the potential for mid-life career revival here.  I mean, eventually his fame (assuming he achieves it in the field of rap and hip-hop, rather than merely infamy) will burn out and he’ll have to do what all washed up artists do in this enlightened, accomplished day and age.

Yes.

That’s right.

Sign a motherfucking reality show deal, bitches.

Hey, it worked for Bret Michaels and Ralph Macchio…

I can see it now…

Tom Felton’s Wand of Love – The show of one child-actor-cum-rap-artist’s quest to conjure a magical connection between himself and the 15 aspiring Playboy Bunnies that VH1 hired.  I hear that Megan chick from Beauty and the Geek and Rock of Love is available…

So You Think You Can Sing – The new attempt by ABC to give everyday citizens, like you and me, the unbelievable opportunity to publicly skin cats in duet with washed-up/questionably-talented musical artists who really need to eat.  First season lineup includes Vanilla Ice, Lief Garrett, and Gary Glitter (newly-released from Vietnamese prison).

The Surreal Life – Opposite the likes of Billy Ray Cyrus, Andy Dick, Jonathan Taylor Thomas, Lark Voorhies, and Soleil Moon Frye, Tom could do well here. Celebrealities are generating a large amount of public interest, still…  I personally look forward to the episode where Billy Ray Cyrus sings about Soleil Moon Frye breaking his achy, breaky heart, followed by Andy Dick snorting an obscene amount of cocaine off of Jonathan Taylor Thomas’ ass before beating Lark Voorhies about the back of her head with his penis as Tom is the designated morally indignant celeb.  I foresee television gold, people.

And all this because he wanted to wear big boy pants for the first time in a decade.

I can’t wait to see how this one turns out.

At some point, I may or may not have altered names and grammar to be more appropriate to one who has been(fuck) at least been taught rudimentary English…

Dear Japan: Whatever it is we did, we’re very sorry. Can you stop now? Sincerely, The Rest of the Goddamned Planet

July 4, 2011 7 comments

Don’t get me wrong, I love Japan. I love the culture, and their animation styles, the new technology they come out with, and even some of their cute little trends.

That being said, I do feel the need to point out that Japan is full of freaky little fuckers who alternate between inspiring us to invent great things and scaring some of us into bizarre acts of whatthefuckery, just to escape from what we’ve seen.

There's just no excuse for this...
There’s just no excuse for this…

Something some of you may have noticed is my tendency toward making things by hand. (I know, I know, it’s subtle, but I promise you: I am heavy into handmade shit, yo.) So, it should come as no surprise to any of you that I came across a Japanese crafting site the other day. What might come across as a surprise, if you have any capacity for such left in you at this stage in life, is that the site is devoted to handsewn underwear. Made out of handkerchiefs. Which the site owner has lovingly dubbed the “Hanty Panty“…

I shit you not.

There are many reasons this site is horrifyingly hilarious. Granted, the obvious reason would be fact that these strange …creations… seem to make you stare in abject terror. If there had been a pattern for this when I was a child, I’m fairly certain my mother would have tried to make them and then make me wear them. And then I would have murdered many people in the face, out of a strange, displaced sense of indignation and rage.

If the Japanese had dropped these from the planes, instead of bombs (edited because I was too distracted to blog correctly the first time), the forces at Pearl Harbor would have just fucking surrendered. In fact, that’s what I suspect is at work here: Japan, as a nation, is putting out this wacky, Rule #34-type shit as payback for Hiroshima, etc. Sure, they bombed us, we nuked them in the face, but the truly lasting damage here is that they will introduce us — and our children — to truly regrettable crafting trends.

I mean, come on… Liberace’s ghost thinks those things are scary…

It certainly doesn’t help that there’s a language translation issue afoot here. Choice phrases had me pausing and laughing to myself, regularly:

  • “It’s not difficult. But I dared to make it complex.” Because I am a fucker and get an even bigger thrill from telling you that I made a non-difficult task complex. Marvel at my fuckery.
  • “Small but sober.” Important to note, because small underwear is usually drunker than an Irishman at a wake.
  • “Oh! Child has bigger hips than mom’s? This is an elastic magic.” I have nothing to say about this that doesn’t result in some sort of profane explosion of laughter and word salad.
  • “I make lacy and fancy underwear for men.” …I want to cry now. Particularly after I poked around on the site a bit and discovered that he/she/it had originally named this line of men’s intimates “Snake Charmers”. Fucking seriously?

Ok. Here is where I draw the line. As a woman, I wouldn’t allow these nightmarishly garish pieces of fabric to decorate my horribly-mangled corpse. I am fairly certain that, were I ever to present my husband with a pair of these, made myself, he would demand a divorce out of sheer courtesy before shooting me in the face.

Y’all would never find my body.

My hat really goes off to this brave individual, not only for the courage to put these creations online as a how-to manual for the craft-oriented mentally disturbed, but also for coming up with the goddamned things in the first place.

At least I only make small, possibly-demonic-looking dolls based on pop culture icons…

Why socializing with other bloggers is dangerous…

June 29, 2011 8 comments

I’ve started following some fabulous people since I became more active on my blog, back in April. I’ve gotten hooked on The Bloggess, Noa Gavin, and Wag the Dad, to name the first three (since I don’t have the strength of fingers, lately, to type out all the blogs that keep me giggling when I need it)… The aforementioned three are all fantastically random/psychotic, and therefore awesome pen pals when we have the occasion to correspond.

I tend to harass Noa on Twitter. She seems to be okay with this.

For example, yesterday I Tweeted her the following:

@OhNoaG This is why I’m having concerns about choosing to become a teacher… http://scr.bi/kQp65a #IPrayForAndrogynousChildren

Which, in turn, started this:

Noa: @KellaKnits AHAHAHAHHA. Yes. Infinite loops. That was amazing.
Me: @OhNoaG They failed to mention that it would create a vaginal causality loop, where the Enterprise would explode before starting over again.
Noa: @KellaKnits The repeated loops would cause a cervical black hole, unfortunately.
Me: @OhNoaG Which would suck up any male genitalia, and some buicks, in the vicinity. Like vagina dentata for the Trekkie set.
Noa: @KellaKnits AHAHAHA. Nice.

Of course, this has kept me laughing for the last. 24. hours.

You know what comes next, don’t you?

That’s right, bitch. Merchandising.

Noa didn’t bring this up, but I think there’s capital to be made here… After trying for hours, however, to find a way to make a pair of ladies underwear with that logo on it, I finally said screw it and made a shirt.

Happy belated birthday, Noa.

If I love you, I will shrink you into yarny miniatures of yourself…

June 21, 2011 3 comments

So, I bet you’re wondering where I’ve been for the last week. (Or maybe you’re blissfully oblivious to my comings and goings in general, and that’s okay, too…) Between school, parenting, and crocheting minis and knitting socks, I’ve been a bit overwhelmed. Also, today is finals week for this class block.

Translation? Kella is an unhappy geek.

But, here’s some shinies that I finished in the last couple of days that should be distracting enough…

Morgan Grimes, from "Chuck" on NBC

Sarah Walker, in her Wienerlicious uniform, from NBC's "Chuck"

John Casey, from "Chuck" on NBC

I’ve started “Jeffster” as of today. Then the Awesomes, then Chuck. Chuck, himself, is gonna be hard for me because I wanna get it just right…

After this, I plan to go after “Leverage”. I apologize in advance to anyone associated with that show who is offended by the idea of the cast being immortalized in yarn.

First Official Roy the Robot Update – May 27, ’11

May 27, 2011 Leave a comment

I know you’ve all been waiting with baited breath, anxious to hear about how Roy the Robot is coming along. Well, after 17 days of work on the part of ethelmuggs, hhooppyy, and myself, we’re almost 1/3rd of the way through!

Layout of Roy, pre-stitching


Read more…

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