Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

I went book shopping tonight and stumbled across this little promising gem. Here's the official blurb, 'cause I (obviously) haven't read it yet myself:

"It is a truth universally acknowledged that a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains."

So begins Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, an expanded edition of the beloved Jane Austen novel featuring all-new scenes of bone-crunching zombie mayhem. As our story opens, a mysterious plague has fallen upon the quiet English village of Meryton—and the dead are returning to life! Feisty heroine Elizabeth Bennet is determined to wipe out the zombie menace, but she's soon distracted by the arrival of the haughty and arrogant Mr. Darcy.

What ensues is a delightful comedy of manners with plenty of civilized sparring between the two young lovers—and even more violent sparring on the blood-soaked battlefield as Elizabeth wages war against hordes of flesh-eating undead. Can she vanquish the spawn of Satan? And overcome the social prejudices of the class-conscious landed gentry? Complete with romance, heartbreak, swordfights, cannibalism, and thousands of rotting corpses, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies transforms a masterpiece of world literature into something you'd actually want to read.

The music in my head

This is the music that's been in my head, that makes me dance in my cubicle. It's the opening of a kid's show called Pecola. It's so addictive. Won't. Get. Out. Of. My. Head!


And now, I'm going to bed!

I wish I was at a Hootenanny in Harlem! Or in CA...

In the interests of not being passive about enjoying this whole temporary (?) happiness, I've been looking for stuff I would like to do. Since Memphis is a HUGE music town, of course I looked to see what bands were going to be playing in the near future.

Oh. My. God. There are so many good shows, both here and elsewhere, that I almost had a conniption fit. But what just about sealed my coffin was The Hootenanny. Three of the bands I'd give my left lady-nut to see this summer will be there: Rev Ho, Horrorpops, and Nekromantix. And there are several others I'd love to see as well. Of course, something this cool isn't in Memphis. Nope, this is in California, on the 4th of July.

Guess where I'm spending Independence Day? No, really, guess. I'll wait while you think about it.

I dithered, going back and forth, for about 72 hours about whether or not I would go. Not whether I wanted to go; that was never in doubt! But my practical, staid side was arguing against the crazy expense of a holiday weekend in CA just for a show (even a hella-sweet show); my girls-just-wanna-fun side was saying that I deserve an effing vacation, the first in over two years, after dealing with a miscarriage, unemployment, joyless employment, and a mental breakdown. So yeah, I finally decided for good last night that for once in my life, I can get nuts and just do something I want to do for the hell of it.

And for those of you playing the home game, here are some other shows coming up in the next couple of months in this general area that I'm considering:

May

8: Horrorpops- Jacksonville, FL

9: Horrorpops- Atlanta, GA

9: The Veronicas- Nashville, TN

June

3: Detroit Cobras- Memphis, TN

5: Detroit Cobras- Birmingham, AL

6: Detroit Cobras- Atlanta, GA

14: The Veronicas- Memphis, TN

19 & 20: The Gories / The Oblivians- Memphis, TN <-- yes, the fucking Oblivians and the Gories are doing reunion shows here!

19: Reverend Horton Heat- New Orleans, LA

July

3: Nekromantix / RevHo- Tuscon, AZ

4: The Hootenanny (see luscious goodness above)

10 & 11: Nekromantix / RevHo- Seattle, WA

Happy, happy, joy, joy

I have felt so hesitant to post this past week, and it's for the exact opposite reason than you think: I've been happy. I know that probably sounds nuts, but I've felt so emotionally okay that it's almost been scary. Like, "what's waiting around the corner, because there's no way I could actually feel this good for too long without it all crashing down."

I guess it's because I don't have a freaking clue from whence it came. If I didn't know any better I'd think someone was slipping E--or prozac-- into my water bottle or something. It happened a couple of weeks after I wrote the emotional vomit post: I just woke up one day, and it was a good day. I was humming and singing at work, even doing a little dance step around my cubicle every now and then. I wanted to hang out with friends. I thought about trying to recreate a social life, and started looking for bands and things to do out and about in the city. I felt good, and it didn't go away the next day. Or the next. Or the one after that.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not on perma-grin or anything. I've had pissy moments, and impatient moments, and sad moments. But they've been fairly fleeting, and the happy has been far outweighing the sad. I have even-- get this-- not completely fallen apart at the thought of being childless. I don't know, maybe this is the upswing of some massive emotional seesaw that's going to bust my ass once Fat Albert jumps off the other end. Maybe it is, but I've decided to just roll with it, and enjoy feeling fairly happy as long as it lasts.

Thursday quickie

I keep snickering to myself as the sickest song in existence keeps rolling through my head: Prom Night Dumpster Baby from "Family Guy".  I keep humming it, too, and I really hope no one knows the tune, as it completely ruin my quiet, sweet & meek reputation here at work.

 

Heh.

PSAs for the day

Seeing as I'm a product of the times-- ie, I can only seem to retain about five phone numbers in my memory—I no longer have phone numbers for most of you guys, since the Glorious Mugging of '09 resulted in the loss of my cell phone… and the accumulated numbers of the last 15 years or so.

 

So I'm sending out a general plea for phone numbers and contact info to those of you who know me in "real life": please drop me an email at any of the addresses you have, and give me your info.  And if you have info for mutual friends, feel free to send it, too.

 

::

 

For the fertility-challenged: is there any word from Cali today???  I can't go to blogs while I'm at work, but I get my comments via email, so PLEASE leave a comment if you know anything!!!

Carmex and Cigarettes

Ever since I was a teenager, I have had two addictions that I cannot shake: smoking and lip balm.  Okay, so lip balm isn't so horrible; I mean, I know I won't be checking in to Betty Ford because of my lippy obsession, but I really do have a thing for lip balm.  I guess it actually started before my teen years.  I can remember being quite small and getting really excited whenever I got a cherry Chapstick or a Lipsmackers, which I suppose were my gateway drugs, so to speak.

 

But I really got strung out in junior high, when I got into band.  Dry and cracking lips are no joke when you're a musician who plays any type of wind/horn instrument, and everyone seemed to be using the same thing at the time: Blistex medicated ointment, the white salve in the squeeze tube.  The bandroom always had a special smell: a blend of sweaty teenagers, spit, and the menthol/minty tang of Blistex.

 

I used Blistex all through junior and high school, and always felt great on it.  Then I went to college, and was introduced to a new lip high: Carmex.  Oh, the joy of removing that yellow lid from the little white jar, and getting a whiff of that rich saffron balm!  The ecstasy of dipping in a finger, smoothing it over your lips, and feeling the rush of the tingles that let you know you were alive.

 

But then I hit the time in college when a lot of people get a little crunchy, and I was no exception.  My neo-hippy phase demanded its own lippy, which turned out to be Burt's Beeswax lip balm.  There are four things that will forever more remind me of my sophomore year in college: the swish of a broomstick skirt around my ankles, the musky-dirt scent of patchouli, the soundtrack of "Hair", and the creamy feel of Burt's Beeswax on my lips.

 

I'm not really sure when it happened, but at some point after sophomore year I became completely indiscriminate about my lip balm.  Before that time I had been staunchly loyal to whatever lippy was my chosen, but no more.  Instead, I became all about quantity, needing to know I had it available at any given moment, at any location.  There would be a lip balm in the car, one in whatever jacket or coat I was wearing, and one or two in my purse.  If I were wearing jeans, there'd be a little something stuck in my pocket; if I had a backpack, you'd better believe there was a little jar in there somewhere.  And let's not forget the one on my desk, and the other one in the bedroom.

 

I am not even carrying a purse right now, but I have 3 lip products within reach: a Mary Kay "Apple Berry" lipstick; a tube of Kiss My Face "Cranberry Spice" lip gloss; and my newest crack, Cherry Carmex in a tube.  To be fair, the lipstick and gloss don't really count, since my addiction is for really balm, but you get the idea.  And I can't believe I've just written almost a whole page about my lip balm addiction.

 

::

 

In a way, I guess my nicotine addiction went hand-in-hand with the lip balm, seeing as cigarette filters seem to suck all the moisture out of your lips.  And when you smoke over a pack a day, that's a lot of dry lips to cure.  Since I (mostly) quit smoking, I only use about a fourth as much lip balm as I used to, even though I still buy it as often because I can't help myself.  Of course, now I have the excuse that I'm buying it for my goddaughter Chava, who is already hooked on the stuff at not quite four years old.

 

Yes, you read it right: I said I've mostly quit smoking.  I had quit the day I found out I was pregnant, and was then completely smoke-free for 13 months.  Not a single cigarette, not even a drag, for thirteen months.  Then one night at a bar, back in December, I decided I really wanted one and bummed off a friend.  It was about 80% disgusting, but that other 20%...  Oh, that 20% led me to smoking another one in January, two in February, and now four in March.

 

So now I'm at a crucial point: do I go along with "I'm okay as long as it's only a couple on the weekend", or do I try to go back to none at all?  I think I might be able to keep it to the weekend, but a small part of me is afraid that it will continue to slowly escalate until I'm a full-time smoker again, which I don't really want.