February 28, 2011

A fate worse than death? You betcha!

My mom spent most of last week cleaning out her attic which resulted in a phone call to me later in the week along the lines of, “Come and get your crap that you made us keep because you might want it someday. FYI, today’s the day you want it.”

So Friday evening I opened up a dozen or so boxes filled with various bits of detritus from my childhood and teenage years.  Which sounds wildly more exciting than it really was.  Most of them contained my schoolwork and about eleventy bonkzillion stuffed animals. 

(Apparently sixth grade was my best year as evidenced by the giant Sharpie lettering “Sixth Grade:  MY BEST YEAR EVER! EVER!” on all five of the boxes housing all of my schoolwork from that year.)

(I remember I had chicken pox for a week straight in sixth grade.)

(And one time we made a color wheel that turned white when you spun it really fast.)

(And that’s it.)

(Best year ever, though.  Totally.)

I went through some of the schoolwork, but realized it was just as boring now as it was when I first experienced it.  Mostly I skimmed through it to make sure nothing I wanted to keep inadvertently got mixed up with it and then threw most of it away.  But not without discovering a few gems along the way.

For instance:  My best friends’ folder.  You know, the kind of folder where you store stickers and notes to one another and you write “Private!  Best Friends Only!” on the cover and twenty years later you have no idea exactly which best friend was allowed access to that folder.

And my “Wish Star.”  You know, the kind of star upon which you write wishes on the arms of the star for things like, “My wish for the world is world peace and no more war.” And “My wish for when I grow up is to write good stories and be famous.” And “My wish for my school is to someday have walls.”  You know, that kind of wish star.

Or, how about my letter to Jon Knight of New Kids on the Block?  Where I told him my name, and my address, my age, the names of the seventeen other girls in my grade that loved NKOTB and how I saw him on T.V. the prior afternoon and boy, did his pants ever look great!  And how much I wished I had a pair of my very own. 

But I think it’s my anti-drug campaign that really hits home.

Probably the most effective campaign I've ever seen.

 Turns out there is a fate worse than death.  And that fate is A.I.D.S. 

(For the record, we started D.A.R.E. in sixth grade.)

(D.A.R.E:  Drug Abuse Resistance Education.)

(Yes, I totally just googled that.)

(Best year ever, though.  Totally.)

February 26, 2011

Conversations with Mbrotha: V is for Vampirism

I have a deep and abiding fear of zombies. 

Well, maybe not so much a fear.  More of an intense and growing concern that the entire world will turn into zombies at some point during my lifetime. 

On a normal day, I’d say this concern consumes roughly forty percent of my thoughts at any given moment. 

On a day that I feel like a giant booger? 

On those days my only thoughts are zombies. 

Which results in the following types of conversations:

Setting:  The boudoir

Who:  Me and Mbrotha

When:  Sometime in the last week or so, I was sick and time was hazy.

Somehow Mbrotha and I were talking about how we’re both sick and one of us (me) suggested that we probably had the zombie virus and we were both 100% likely to turn into zombies overnight and wake up fully zombified.  At this point, the conversation was all laugh-y, laugh-y, joke-y, joke-y.  Haha, we’re going to turn into zombies.  Oh, hope you don’t eat me, teehee!  Mm, your brain smells tasty, hoho! 

What fun, what fun!

Mbrotha:  Goodnight, babe, love you.

Me:  Night, love you.  Hope you don’t turn into a zombie, heeheehohohaha.

Mbrotha:  Okay then.

::about five minutes passes by and then…::

Me:  Um, hey, babe?

Mbrotha:  Yeah.

Me:  I’m sort of legitimately concerned you’ll turn into a zombie overnight.

Mbrotha:  I’m not going to turn into a zombie, pumpkin, don’t worry.  Go to sleep, good night, I love you.

Me:  Okay, phew.  Night, love you too.

::another five minutes::

Me:  No, seriously, babe, I’m really very concerned you will turn into a zombie overnight.

Mbrotha:  Honey, I’m not going to turn into a zombie.  Go to sleep.

Me:  Okay.

::five minutes::

Me:  Babe?

Mbrotha:  I’m not a zombie.

Me:  Not yet.

Mbrotha: Nor will I become one.

Me:  Listen, hon, I don’t think you fully understand my concern.

Mbrotha:  I do, now go to sleep.

::five minutes::

Me:  Hon, I’ve really thought about it, and I’m quite convinced you’re about to turn into a zombie.

Mbrotha: I’m not, I assure you.

Me:  You’re sick.

Mbrotha: I have a cold.

Me:  Or the beginnings of the zombie virus cleverly disguised as the common rhinovirus.

Mbrotha:  I’m pretty certain it’s a cold. 

Me:  Really?  Because I’m not convinced.

Mbrotha:  Okay, go to sleep.

::five minutes::

Me:  No, you are clearly becoming a zombie and because of that I already have my escape route planned.

Mbrotha:  It’s a cold.

Me:  No, listen.  I’m really freaked out here.

Mbrotha:  I know, honey, but I’m fine, it’s just a cold.

Me:  Okay, fine.  But look, in the morning, if you are no longer a human but a member of the living undead, I fully plan to bash you in the head with the iron and since you’re now undead I’ll have to bash you several times.  Then I plan to run down the hallway and call my mom.  But I can’t because now the whole world is full of zombies including my mom, so I can’t call her which means I have to deal with you on my own.

Mbrotha:  Naturally.

Me:  Right.  And you’ve chased me down the hall but you get distracted by the smell of the dogs and I can’t let you just eat them now can I?  So I have to clobber you repeatedly until I manage to knock you unconscious.  Then I’ll have to work quickly and tie you up.

Mbrotha:  Smart.

Me:  I’m going to put you in the bathroom okay?  I’ve thought about it and it’s really the safest place for you.  I don’t want other zombies to get to you and I figure they won’t be able to crawl through the window because it’s small and I plan to barricade it and the door with pieces of wood from the garage.  Plus I’ll put you in the tub and I’ll draw the curtain so if another zombie makes it inside, they won’t think to look inside of the tub.  Zombies aren’t that bright, you know?

Mbrotha:  Why would another zombie try to get to me?  I’m already a zombie.

Me:  How the fuck am I supposed to know?  It’s Zombiepocalypse!  Times are crazy!  Every zombie for themselves!  Or something.

Mbrotha:  Okay.  Well, you don’t have to worry about that because I’m not going to become a zombie. 

Me:  I sure hope not!

Mbrotha:  Go to sleep.

::five minutes later::

Me:  Look, if you’re so intent upon becoming one of the undead, I’d much prefer you contract the vampire virus. 

Mbrotha:  I’ll keep that in mind.

Me:  I’m A-okay with vampirism.

Mbrotha:  Great.

Me: But not werewolvism.  And not one of those creepy vamps from “30 Days of Night.”  I mean, we have to draw the line somewhere.

Mbrotha:  Right.

Me:  But if you want to be a vamp like Edward from Twilight?  I’m fully on board with that idea. 

Mbrotha:  So I can only be undead if I become a vampire? 

Me:  Correct. 

Mbrotha:  Okay, just so I’m clear. 

Me:  Great.  So, to recap.  Zombies and werewolves, hell no.  Vampires, hell yes. 

Mbrotha:  Mmhmm.

Me:  I feel better now that that’s settled. 

Mbrotha:  Good, I’m glad.  Go to sleep, love you.

Me:  Love you, too.  Night.

::The next morning::

Text message from Ali to Mbrotha:: 

Thank God you’re not a zombie.

February 18, 2011

It’s the thought that counts, right?

Every now and again I have one of those “Aha!” moments.  You know the kind where you’re bumbling along trying to find your way and then all of a sudden something happens and you go, “Yes!  That right there!  That’s what I’m looking for!  That’s it!”  And all of a sudden birds are singing and the sun is shining and your outlook on life is just fucking amazing.  You know those moments?

I had one of those moments today.  I had no idea it was about to happen either.  I was just sitting there, minding my own business, fake-interviewing celebrities while eating my lunch. 

And Whammo!

It hits me.  This realization I’ve been searching for for ages.  And it happened at the most innocuous of times and when I was least expecting it.  A co-worker mentioned that she’s going to Haiti in March for volunteer work.  She’s volunteered once already and this is her second year going. 

That’s all it took.  I was hooked. 


Look, let’s take a moment and air the dirty laundry.  I used to do this job I absolutely fucking hated for this company I liked even less.  Spawn of Satan is not even remotely an apt description.  It put me in this huge funk that, at times, I was positive I would never be able to recover from.  Just……bloody fucking awful.  Somehow, a miracle occurred and I was able to tell the “Dude” to go fuck off and here’s your suck-ass job to do it with (And by that I mean I politely quit and thanked them for the opportunity.). 

The end of that job allowed me to start thinking again.  Thoughts that I make available here, whether you care to hear them or not (you totally do though, let’s face it, I’m made of awesome-sauce and win).  And over the course of the last eight months I’ve figured out that I want more from my life.  Unfortunately, I’m still vastly uncertain exactly what “more” I’m looking for.  Thankfully, every now and again the universe sees fit to throw me a bone and I have an “Aha!” moment.  Thanks Universe, you rock. 

One time in my life I’d like to do something that doesn’t benefit me in any way.  When I heard about my co-worker’s trip today, I was just amazed.  I want to do that.  I want to go somewhere and help someone I don’t know simply because I can.  I want to help make a difference somewhere.  So now I just have to figure out where.  Who’s going to be lucky enough to get this girl? 

I think it’d be more accurate to say, who’s going to be unlucky enough to get this girl.  What I lack in upper-body strength, I make up for in smile-wattage.  I hope that accounts for something. 

I’m also not a huge fan of bugs or sweating.  But I can save you from the Zombiepocalypse.  At least, I’m pretty sure I can.  I haven’t had to test out my skills yet and I’d like to keep it that way.

Now it looks like I’m making fun of volunteering.  Great. 

Worst.  Volunteer.  Candidate.  Ever.

February 16, 2011

Leprechauns, Zombies, and Jared Leto. Yeah, that sounds about right.

Oh boy, Internet.  It’s time again for that much-anticipated, and much loved by all (and by all, I mean me) feature on this blog.

Yes, that’s right.  It’s time again for:

“Invented Interchanges with the Illustrious.”


“What happens when Ali is left to her own devices.”


“I can’t be trusted around celebrities.  I really, really can’t.”

Once upon a time, I met Dave Tango of Ghost Hunters fame.  The short story of that meeting:  I accosted him, thanked him for having me to an event I paid money to attend, mumbled gibberish at him, then stared at dopey-eyed at him while snubbing each and every one of his co-stars.

Thankfully, I obtained some social graces prior to meeting one Mr. Danny Gokey of American Idol fame.  Danny and I shared a moment, y’all.  And by a moment I mean I spoke coherently and waited until I was at least fifty yards away to squeal girlishly.

Progress, right?

It is, therefore, my opinion that I should meet Jared Leto.  He’s hosting a Q&A about “Hurricane:  The Film,” at the Montalbal Theatre in LA on Monday.  And naturally, I have already planned exactly how I will attend this event despite the fact that I have yet to actually participate in any contest to win tickets. 

I imagine it would go something like this:

(I should preface this by saying I do not know Jared Leto.  At all.  Like not even a little.  So this interview?  Purely fictional.)

(Although there was this one nanosecond at the Oakdale two weeks ago where he kinda, sorta looked in my direction and may or may not have locked eyes with me as he scanned the crowd.  Maybe.  It was kind of dark and I was jumping up and down at the time, so it’s hard to be sure.  So I guess I do know him a tiny bit.  Kinda.  Sorta.  Maybe.)

Setting:  Montalban Theatre, Los Angeles, CA

Who:  Me!, Jared Leto, a bunch of other people

Me:  Hey, Jay. 

(Look at me all familiar with a celebrity I haven’t even met.  Except for that one kinda, sorta time.)

Jared Leto:  Hey, Ali.

Me:  Soooooooo….Hurricane.  Wow.

JL:  Thank you.

Me:  No, thank you.  Any favorite moments in the film?

(Technically, thanks Bart Cubbins.)

JL:  There are several. 

Me:  Hit me.

JL:  I’m partial to the scene in the beginning where I jump out of the window.  The scene’s of Tomo playing the violin and Shannon playing the drums, and the shot of the coffins with the American Flags on them.

Me:  Get the hell out of dodge!  Those are my favorites as well!

JL:  Makes sense.  This is a figment of your imagination.

Me:  Good point.

Me:  So, Jay, I’m really dying to know, as I’m sure others are as well…why one, two, three, five? 

JL:  You noticed that did you? 

Me:  Five years of French.  I was bound to retain something.

JL:  Is that all you remember?

Me:  No, no.  I can also tell you that I’d really, really like a glass of apple juice, please. 

JL:  That’s a handy skill.

Me:  At least I’ll never go thirsty should I ever visit France. 

JL:  You might get sick of apple juice.

Me:  Gosh I hope not.

Me:  So tell me, when you had the mars hawk, did you find that the pink faded incredibly quickly?

JL:  So fast.  It was depressing.

Me:  Tell me about it.  Mine faded in a week and a half.  I’m still bummed.

JL:  Understandable.

Me:  Any chance we’ll see the Marshawk again? 

JL:  I’d say it’s not outside the realm of possibility. 

Me:  ::big grin::

Me:  Okay, tell me, in a battle between leprechauns and zombies, who wins?

JL:  Zombies.

Me:  Oh my God, I love you.

JL:  Zombies always win the versus game. 

Me:  Those are the most perfect words anyone has ever said to me.  How do you feel about green beans?

JL:  They’re pretty awesome.  Especially when they’re drizzled with a little balsamic vinegar.

Me:  Okay, seriously, do you need someone to like, wipe you with a towel onstage?  Or open your water bottles?  Hell, I’ll open the blinds on the bus.  I’ll be the official blind-raiser.  I’ll pull them down too.  You want to look outside?  Done.  Feeling shy?  Done.  I’m your girl. 

JL:  I think that could be arranged. 

Me:  Wait, wait, hang on.  Before I get ahead of myself, I have to know, because this could be a potential deal breaker.

JL:  Okay, hit me with it, I’m ready.

Me:  S’mores.  Your honest opinion.

JL:  My honest opinion?

Me:  Yes.

JL:  Best. Food.  Pairing.  Ever.

Me:  ::no response, cause I’m busy dying of awe, thanks very much::

And there you have it folks.  Another stunning installment of “Invented Interchanges with the Illustrious.”

(And again, I don’t know Jared Leto.  I don’t know his opinion of green beans, or s’mores.  And he very well may feel that leprechauns will win the versus game.  He may argue that leprechauns will win because they have bottomless pits of gold to buy weapons with and they can somehow manage to trick zombies into a fruitless search after their lucky charms. 

He’d be wrong.  But that may be how he’d feel.  Because I don’t know him.  Except for a little bit.  Kinda, sorta.)

(It’d be totally cool if he wanted to be friends, though.)

January 29, 2011

Boredom: Day Who-Cares-Anymore?

I think I’ve figured out the problem. 

Well, some of it, anyway.

Three-tenths of it, at least. 

The problem—or the trouble, depending on how you look at it—is that I’m excessively bored.  I blame Mother Nature for a good portion of my boredom.  She’s seen fit to grace my house with fifty plus inches of snow in the past month.  I don’t mind generally because I feel that it gives purpose to winter and it makes the world look magical and filled with promise.  So, props, MN, good job on the white stuff.  However, the snowstorm every three days?  It’s making me flat-out stir crazy.

The other significant source of my boredom is due to being straight-up poor.  Kind of.  You know how everyone has all that jazz come January 1st about the resolutions and the whatnot?  Well, Mbrotha and I have decided this is the year we get out of debt. 


Yeah, I know.  We’re just so chock-full of awesomesauce and win your mind is literally boggling right now.  Go ahead, take a moment and wrap your brain around it all.  I don’t mind.  In the meantime, here’s a visual aid depicting how I feel about debt:


So that’s kind of where we stand right now.  Mbrotha and I vastly dislike debt and we’ve decided we just don’t want it no’ mo’.  And truth be told, it’s something that we started prior to Resolution Saturday.  We’re just making a more concentrated effort to eradicate most of the debt that we have in 2011.  Unfortunately this has put us in the poor house and I can no longer justify spending erroneously because that money could be used toward the debt. And being responsible and mature makes Ali bat-shit crazy. 

Sometimes being a grown-up sucks some giant donkey balls.  I apologize for the crudeness in the former comment but that’s just how much being an adult sucks sometimes. 

Giant donkey balls.

And not the Giant Donkey Balls at Surfin’ Ass in Kona, HI.  (So many different shades of awesome, I kid you not.)

Just plain old giant donkey balls. 

So that’s where I’m at right now.  Bored out of my skull. 

And I’ve already written an ode to Spider Solitaire.