Thursday, October 25, 2007

Arrivederci TV Links

I have no channels. And by that I don't mean I have peasant vision. I mean no channels. Period.
We are not just peasants. We are homeless vagebonds in the world of TV.
You see, to have peasant vision, you have to have an antenae, and we don't. So to get one measly, fuzzy channel, you have to do a dance with a piece of tin foil on a chord. And even then , the picture isn't that good. Plus, your likely standing behind the TV with your hands in the air, or in the middle of the room on one foot cause that tin foil thing is so picky about where it has to be to get reception. And it always chooses the oddest places.
So we don't watch TV. Call me crazy but the whole enjoyment is taken away when you have to watch while standing on your tiptoes.
For the longest time, I didn't watch TV shows unless I was at friends houses, and then I didn't really like it cause I was behind the times. So I avoided even that.
Then I discovered shows on DVD. Introduced to me by my sister Jaima with Lost, I began watching previous seasons of shows, and feeling slightly in the TV loop. Plus I figured DVD was the way to watch shows, cause I could watch as mush or as little whenever I wanted.
But I was still behind the times. I'd watch an entire season in a few days, and then be waiting with baited breath for a year until the next season was released on DVD.
Then my sister Janine introduced me to TV Links. FYI- TV Links is a website that has shows available online to watch. I was hooked! How awesome was it that I could watch shows without going to rent them? Or waiting for them to come out on DVD? For the first time in my life, I was regularly following shows every week. I had three that I loved; Heroes, the Office, and How I Met Your Mother.
Then, a trajedy occurred; TV Links was shut down. Apparently something they did was illegal, and they vanished.
Okay, so maybe it was an illegal website, but I was still devastated. My world of TV shows, gone.
So this blog is dedicated in loving memory of TV Links. Yeah, you were illegal, but you were a friend to me in the world of TV.

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Millena the Pizza Bomb

Once upon a time there was a frozen pizza named Millena. So named because, well, that was the company that had made her. Mild mannered Millena was one day sitting in her normal place on the top shelf of the deep freeze in the Redd's place of residence when to her astonishment, the freezer opened, and a hand reached toward her, taking her out of her comfortable home and into the discomfort of the room temperature kitchen.
Now Millena was a shy pizza, she rarely associated with the bags of peas and cans of lemonade concentrate that lived next door to her in the deep freeze. But what the Redd's didn't know was that though Millena was quiet and shy, she had a temper like a gas range.
Millena was not impressed at being taken out of her comfortably cold home. She was even less impressed when she was taken out of her pretty cardboard box with her name written on it in red block letters.
But the Redd's did not care for the suffering they caused poor Millena. They wanted lunch, and hungry people are notorious for listening to nothing but their own stomachs. So they did not hear Millena's disgruntled protests. They paid no mind when she wailed as her plastic cover was taken off. They did not care that the pizza pan was too small for her, and she was uncomfrtable on that ugly dish. They just wanted their lunch.
You can imagine Millena's horror and displeasure when she was placed in the oven at 425 degrees to bake for 25 minutes. This was the final straw. She would not stand for this mistreatment.
Her temper got the better of her. In her rage, Millena swelled to an enormous size. Her cheesy goodness turned to brittle black, her lovely thin crusts curved over the edge of the pan and burned. Her delectable pepperoni retained the flavour and texture of cardboard. And while all this was happening. Millena grew. She grew until she was no longer a pizza, but instead, a gaint, dougy bubble ready to explode.
It was a good thing the cook opened the oven at that precise moment. Had she waited a second more, Millena would be decorating the inside of the stove. Once out of the oven, Millena's temper simmered down. She shrunk to almost the correct size and shape again, but her grudge remained. She would never forgive these people for taking her from her home in the deep freeze.
So she remained burnt and bland tasting, and was therefore, not the tastiest of lunches.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Intersted?

I have always considered myself to be a good speller, and I'm a fairly good typist as well. But sometimes, I get too excited, or typing too fast, and I make the dumbest mistakes, that were I writing, I would never make. Skipping words, spelling them horribly wrong, or just spelling them wrong so instead of the, we have teh.
You probably noticed such mistakes in earlier blogs that I was too lazy to proofread, or if you've talked to me on msn or facebook, you know what a klutz of the keyboard I am.
Take the word interested. I know how to spell this word. It's an easy word. Yet every time I type it, I write intersted. I don't know what it is, but for some reason I can never get that word. Silly keyboard.
NOTE: 15 such mistakes were made and discovered in this blog alone. Make that 17.

Friday, October 12, 2007

All I Want to do is Sit and Write English Papers

The thing about journalism is that they ignore all the rules. Paragraphs must be kept to one or two sentences so readers don't see a really long paragraph and flip to the next page. And you have to be way more direct, and weird analogies and/or wordiness is frowned upon.
I got into journalism because I love to write. I was the dream English student in high school because I wrote assignments for fun. Even now in my Children's Lit. class (which is my favourite) I cannot wait to do my assignments because I think they're all so fun.
I'm not saying I want to switch majors. I like journalism, but if I could do anything I wanted for my career, anything at all, I would sit in a hole and write English papers. All day.

The Smokey Pie

Last weekend on Thanksgiving, I was given the task of making the pies. Actually I appointed myself, because I love pies and I wanted to make them, so I designated myself the dessert lady.
Anyways, I made four pies. Two pumpkin, one apple, and one blueberry. Neen made the blueberry actually, but I made the dough for it.
So here we have four lovely pies to wash down our turkey feast on Sunday evening. All we had to do was bake them, and I would be the ultimate dessert lady of the evening.
We didn't eat the pies until a while after dinner. They were sitting on the stove top, looking so alluring and delicious in their golden fruity goodness. In attendance were the Fixsens, my family who live at home, and Adrianna; who came for Thanksgiving because her family went away without her.
Everyone there (and most people I know actually) knew how passionate I am about pie. Also, my sisters Jaima and Janine are both award winning pie makers, so this was a tense situation. At last we tucked into my delicious pies.
They were not so delicious.
They had been put in the oven after the turkey was cooked, and smelled up the oven with it's turkey fumes. They tasted like ash.
At first everyone took polite bites and hid their grimaces behind smiles. Then Neen pointed out that the blueberries tasted funny. Then Jaima did like wise with the pumpkin. My beautiful pies, ruined!
Oh well, I guess every cook has to have a few mishaps.

Monday, October 1, 2007

Earthquake Mode

I just recently inherited my sister's cell phone. I am still learning the rules and practices of cell phones, and today a rather funny incident occurred.
I was sitting in my history class, my phone in my pocket on vibrate. I usually have my phone on vibrate just cause I don't like ringtones. Anyway, it was in my pocket, and I was completely absorbed in my class. We were talking about Charlesmagne and I was engrossed, as well as madly taking notes. When, quite out of the blue, someone called me. Now what you have to understand is that I am
a)Still getting used to having something shake in my pocket
b) Actually in a different century, picturing Charlesmagne murdering his brother
I was so surprised by this sudden quaking, I gasped, jumped a few feet and collided with the table, and threw my pencil in the air all in one seamless motion.
Everyone turned to look at me. I mean everyone. My prof stopped speaking and asked me if I was okay. Red-faced, I nodded and dug out my phone to see who had called me; pretending that jumping up in the air and throwing pencils was a perfectly ordinary thing to do.
What can I say? Vibrate mode hurts.