Infected Zombie Blood

It's that time again... preparing for the epic event of the year—the (holy shit!) 6th? Annual Halloween Party. Really creative title, right? Anyhow, Teesh and I are set to go all out, as far as decor goes. Today, we were perusing the Halloween section at Target, getting all giddy (high-pitched squeals, repetitive LOOK AT THIS's, touching/picking up/fondling everything). If you were to walk by while grabbing the obligatory bag of Reese's Cups on special, you might think we were an unfortunate pair of four-year-olds stuck in hoodies.

As an aside, Target and I have issues. It seems I can't walk in there without dropping at least double the amount of money I should be spending. That big red bull's-eye? Yeah, it's the same color of my car. The car they're going to repossess after I spend all of my money at Target.

We decided this year, instead of spending a ridiculous amount of cash-money on corny decorations of cartoon ghosts with cut-out eyes and snaggle-toothed witches, we would make our own. Kids, I realize this is September, but one only has so much time to put together the bangin'-est party. Figure in a reasonable amount of time for make-your-own-decor, a suitable sleazy punch recipe, and about nine-to-ten days working on a costume that no one in the world has EVER thought of... and you've got yourself a solid month of planning (or more). Besides, these old, shady bottles we just bought at Goodwill aren't going to fill themselves with questionable nasties.

Which leads me to the point... any ideas for ghoulish decor? Teesh and I decided to start with about $10 worth of glass bottles, in which will contain various liquids and maybe even PEELED GRAPES... I mean, eyes. I think this is classy. Set them up all over the house. Hope nobody tries to drink them. You know... nothing says Halloween like an accidental Windex ingestion!

Well, it's getting late. I just know I'm going to have nightmares after the brainstorm session I had coming up with "labels" for these bottles. Eye of Goat Radish. Scuzzum of Mink Husk. Infected Zombie Blood.

Sweet dreams.

Cherry Pop-Tarts

Here I am again. Back on my porch, streetlight beamed and trying to sort out my insomnia. Sleeplessness isn't as easy as playing cards. I'm trying to decide how much sleep I need to do what, what going to the gym at 5 a.m. actually means to me, and if I'm going to gain 3 pounds from the package of Cherry Pop-Tarts I devoured this afternoon. Heavy stuff for a Thursday night, right?

But on the subject of Cherry Pop-Tarts. They were there. Glistening in their bright blue wrapper, taunting me from the other side of the glass. Before I could know what I was doing, I slipped in the crinkled dollar bill and hit F5. Is it sad that I can recall the actual code? See, at our place of work, Cherry Pop-Tarts are a rarity. Of course, there are always the obligatory Brown Sugar Whatevers and the Strawberry Frosted, but Cherry is like the diamond of the group; alas, it was the last one. Behind it, more Strawberry. This is important, because in that moment, I felt like they were made for me, that there was a reason I even stepped up to the vending machine that I'm pretty good at avoiding.

Now, there is a professor I had once, a poet, and she did a remarkable job portraying the Cherry Pop-Tart—a sort of vulnerability. And overly-romanticized (by me) or not, the treat itself is worthy of an awesome poem.

As it stands, there is more to worry about than Pop-Tarts at this hour, but I'm fixated and that's what I do (instead of analyze Real Issues.)

My first day of teaching is coming up here on Tuesday. I've spent a few hours babbling to myself in the car on various short drives, so I feel like I'm ready for the big leagues. Hahaha... really. I've thought about holding a phone to my ear, but felt that would really taint the whole experience.

Happy Friday (early) and Weekend. I get to see my sister, brother-in-law, and nephew tomorrow. So I'm on top of the world, you know? (:

xx
mpt

Just bee.

Well, if you haven't heard... I'll be Professor Chicken by the end of this month. Ok. I'm teaching one class at the University of Pittsburgh at Greensburg. (From where I graduated about... ugh... 4 years ago.) Wow. Anyhow, it has me working some serious tail feathers, along with my arty art projects and cooking and sweating (the humidity this way has been obnoxious) and and and still trying to keep up any sort of motivation to do normal things like grocery shop, clean Mr. Winston's cage, or sleep. Summer-induced insomnia. Nice.

But fall is coming! Are you pumped? It's my favorite, even if it is cliche. These last few days, the air just feels like fall, you know? To me, it is so much more fresh than spring. Spring is mud and melted snow and rain and mud. And while Tash finds it depressing, the upcoming leaf-falling season gives me this strange feeling in my tummy—like butterflies with dumbbells tied to their wings. And THEN this whole montage of flashbacks (haunted houses, sipping cider, carving pumpkins, etc.) plays in my head with the reflective yet raspy backdrop of "It's a Wonderful World." Ha. It's not that serious, maybe, but it is that corny.

I took this little snap when Tash and I went to visit Amy in Lancaster (Lan-cus-ter: she'll beat you if you don't say it right). We were hiking somewhere crazy (up RT 81, I believe)... and the whole forest floor was covered like this. It was like a dream...

Speaking of dream. That's one huge pumpkin. Note the text on the little white one (and squash). Totally didn't see that.

What's your favorite season? I find Winter-lovers interesting. I like Winter... for like a second. 

Ahhh... I better crash.

mpt

Semicolon update! And a picture of an underwater scary thing.

I totally found a site (Oatmeal.com) that definitely does the semicolon thang in a funnier way. Too bad I didn't see this before... ha. I would've just posted it. Clicky!

Enjoy!

Semicolon Happy: A Life Lesson

One of my favorite marks is the semicolon. Don't get me wrong; he's a pretentious little twit sometimes. Honestly, I'm not, you know, a world-class grammarian or anything, but one of my favorite things in life EVER, is the misuse of this little snot. Not only because I wouldn't have a job if it weren't for grammatical/spelling errors, BUT because the semicolon is one of those extras. You need not use one. There is never a time when a period is completely unacceptable. Semicolon is stylish, flashy... he is like the fur lining on your hoodie, you know?

If you've ever wondered what in the #¢*! to do with a semicolon... I've got a few that I think are most important (or, at least, most common.)

*******

One.
The easiest: use a semicolon in place of a period between two separate sentences without the conjunction. (Conjunction is like "and," "but," and "because.") These two "sentences," can be considered independent clauses, meaning they could stand alone, you know, with their subject and verb; however, the semicolon here signifies a closer connection between them—closer than a period!

Stop by McDonald's and get me a Rolo McFlurry; I'll give you dollars when you get here.

I stopped going to class after the first two weeks; it put me right to sleep. 
 
Two.
While it's not like GUN-TO-THE-FOOT* important, it is preferable to use semicolons before introductory words/phrases that introduce complete sentences. Some of these words are "however," "therefore," "besides," and "for example." (Remember the comma afterward!)


Lisa is notorious for sleeping around; therefore, I was hesitant to sit, raw-bottom, on her toilet.

I can't wait to get into a good college; however, I'm dreading the loan repayment.

Three.
Now, this one is a wee bit tricky, but sort of necessary for clarity. Use a semicolon between items in a list, when the items contain commas. They call this type of list (with internal punctuation) a "complex series." Haha.

Leah dated a lot of guys in the medical field, such as: Scott, the physical therapist; John, the doctor-in-training; Chad, the male nurse; and Bill, the pharmacist.

*******

Done with the banter! But hey, you get the idea. Common, everyday language is more prone to rule one, but trust me there are more rules! If nothing else, just don't use them. Eff convention, throw in a period and be done with it.

Enough rules. Not so swiftly, I'm trying to focus my attention on something else other than that stupid Casey Anthony case; though, it appears to be everywhere right now. Stuff like that rots my brain out, makes me so sad.

HEY. What punctuation/grammar issue do you come across most? This might help me. I need some idea of what people are struggling with most. Share your funny/sad/angry stories about grammar, spelling, or punctuation. I'd love to hear them, honest.

*GUN-TO-THE-FOOT was just an un-clever way for me to say "gun-to-the-head" without such messy imagery!
** I hate footnotes!

Flavor Drop Update.

Some news. First of all, remember those Capella Flavor Drops that I blogged about a few weeks ago? Utter shit. While two of the five flavors I purchased, at least, have some flavor, the others are total duds. Unless you plan on putting like 10x the amount of drops recommended; in which case, maybe you should just poor acid on your tongue, too. The chemical-y taste is a bit too much to bear.

And to top it off, I wrote a pretty nice email to the chaps, just stating what I had found to be true—in a nice way. I didn't request or demand FREE MERCHZZZ! or my money back. Just wanted to give them my piece. Forkers didn't even respond. LAME! And before I get off the subject of these horrible little caustic, flavorless drops...

Word of advice: if you get a drop on your finger... DO NOT LICK IT.

Quick replay:

Note: zombie walk, baggy eyes, and the only positive thing about this picture (the coffee!)

And then I realize my order of tasty, sugar-free drops came in the day before! I couldn't wait! I possibly didn't sleep at night thinking about them. Kidding.

One of my favorite flavors OF ALL TIME... coconut! (: Perfect summery coffee flavor, no?

Not sure why I thought it was ok to lap up the rogue drop with my tongue, but um... it smelled good, right?

Just don't do it. It was a combination of rubbing alcohol and tequila... and I'm pretty sure I received chemical burns on my tongue. The end.

A former colleague of mine (oh my god does that sound trite), Jason, runs an online lit mag called decomP. Kudos to him for that, first of all. But yea, he used one of my paintings ("earthbound") as the monthly cover thang. How cool? Thanks for the pimp action, Jason. (:

Time to get ready for some Independence-style partying. Hope everyone has a great holiday weekend!

xx
mpt

ps: If you didn't click the "Forkers" link, you may want to do that.
ps2: For you all, I refrained from CASEY ANTHONY bs. The trial has suddenly taken over my life.

Babies use soap, right?

Being the lucky girl that I am, I have some pretty amazing friends. I wanted to pimp this girl for her unique and awesome brain. Well, I mean, a lot of people can make soap, but this girl makes it from base ingredients, meaning LYE! This shit scares me to be honest, as I can't even use a kitchen knife half of the time. I digress. You should check out her soap. Not only does she make the soap, but it's packaged in her handmade paper and lovely typewriter lettering. I'll be making some with her soon, so pictures are to come.

In the meantime, check her out. She is up for new ideas, too. Give her a shout. cyfisch@gmail.com —or, if you're too shy, hit me up.

So listen. My next stop is Dream Land. I'm going to make it brief, because how boring are dreams to other people? I know, BUTTTT... I dreamt I had a baby. I had a baby, was happy about it, and gave it away. Yep. I was a surrogate mother. It kind of messed me up all day. I'm a gusher. Add that to my list of hobbies... painting, writing, knitting, singing...surrogate mother. I kind of wonder what y'all think. Could you do it? Pros. Cons. What?

Just curious, as usual. >^..^<