Guitar Hero III (XBox 360) Rawks
Sweetpea is always in the right place at the right time. She hit a sale on XBox 360’s Guitar Hero III on the very first day it came out, just happened to be in the store. People had been waiting in lines outside game stores until midnight the night before to get it. She just wanders in and finds the last one on the shelf Sunday morning. Bought it with her birthday loot.
She got the one with the wireless guitar. Spanky was skeptical of the wireless one, thought it wouldn’t be fast enough for her. It was indeed.
I sat back and laughed my ass off. Blane Jr. also got GHIII so he could battle the girls online. That’s what’s cool about this one, you can play others online. The “characters” on screen actually look like guitar legends such as Hendrix and Slash. Lots of good metal shredding oldies as well as the ability to purchase new tunes online.
So who won? Well, Blane beat Spanky, but he does it psychologically. Sings to the songs while he plays and messes with her for not having as many points. I think if it were not for the headset she’d beat him. She plays at a higher level and has to drop down to medium to play him.
He still knows how to make her mad.
Show Me the Halloween
I’ve been looking everywhere for some fun and creepy halloween yard decorations, but people are holding out. Waiting for the big day to trick out their yards.
I did see some cool pumpkin snowglobes. Those are pretty cool.
Check it out:
The little ghosties in there spin round and round. I almost want one, but if I did do something in the yard it would be two scarecrow gravediggers over a faux grave.
But wait. Let me zoom out on the yard with the pumpkin thing. Check out this street deco:
Now that’s what I’m talking about. Have camera, see Viper, take photo.
Have a great day.
Star Wars Seventy-Seven
I did not go to film school, nor did I study screenwriting in college, so what the hell makes me think I can write screenplays?
For too many years I believed that one did have to go to film school or college specifically for that. I guess it is because I worked in a licensed world, I had to go to school to be a nurse, pass the board to get my license, the doctors I worked under, med school…
When I started selling houses, more school, another license.
But screenwriters don’t need a license. It probably helps to have a degree in film when making a submission, but it is not necessary. It takes talent, drive, and some luck. All three.
And some.
I grew up in a movie theater my mother managed. Since this was a small town and there wasn’t much else to do, guess where I was every single day? At the movies.
I’d help her carry the film cans upstairs and splice films together. I had a drawer full of frames from my favorite movies and my room was wallpapered with real movie posters, even the ceiling.
Mostly, I watched movies. Every day, at least two an evening on the big screen. There were four to choose from. Often a movie got held over for weeks. Like Star Wars. It got held over for so long, I managed to watch it seventy-seven times. Not that I liked it, I never did. Not one single time.
See, not only did I get in for free, so did the friends I brought with me. That is how many times I got “asked” to suffer this one. It wasn’t long before I had every line of dialogue memorized, knew every prop, every mistake, you name it. Out of boredom and curiosity, I used to watch people’s reactions to certain parts of movies. Not just Star Wars, all of the movies I watched over and over again. There were many.
My mom was great with people. She knew everyone in town and when they came out of the show, she’d ask them if they liked it, then why or why not. Every single night. People of all ages and backgrounds. She could get them to talk. I listened and learned.
Mom got so good at feeling the pulse of movie goers that she could predict with great accuracy which movies would do well and which ones would bomb. Just by watching a preview. I listened and learned.
This was my childhood.
I am no longer privied to free movies on the big screen but I know the importance of talking to and listening to people of all ages and backgrounds. What makes them laugh or cry, what music they listen to, what they do for fun, what bothers them… Things that move them.
Did we know Star Wars would be a hit? Yes, unfortunately we did. There were too many things in there we’d never seen before. Mostly the special effects. We knew we were in for some suffering.
Sorry Star Wars fans.
Visiting Hour
At least once per day I check all my peeps’ WordPress blogs. I used to just go to my own blogroll and click each one individually. I like looking at a blog on the writer’s homepage.
I knew about WordPress’ blog surfer (RSS reader for WordPress only blogs) on my admin page, but never used it until a few weeks ago. So if you are one of my WordPress pals and don’t see the usual click a day from me on your blog stats page, it doesn’t mean I’m not reading you. I am, in fact, with blog surfer, I don’t miss any posts unless you post more than once per day. I’m also using “My Comments” in the admin panel to keep up with comments I’ve left on your WordPress blogs.
Using blog surfer and my comments does not show up as any statistic on WordPress, btw, not since they put an end to feed stats.
Keep blogging people, it’s a nice break for me while I’m bricking it here, writing in my dark cave.
Seventeen
Seventeen years ago today, Sweetpea belted out her first cry. It was an amazing thing, as all births are, but this one was different because it was obvious from that very first sound this kid had a set of pipes. It sounded operatic and gave me chills.
She doesn’t take voice lessons or have any interest in singing. That doesn’t disappoint me. I want my children to do what makes them happy.
Sweetpea has many talents, she plays the violin and electric guitar. She loves music and art. She paints and draws well. Here is a drawing she had to turn in to her art class today.
That’s Jimmi Hendrix, one of her favorite musicians. The text which doesn’t show up too well here says, “Freedom, Give it to me.”
That’s so Sweetpea. Always independent. Always doing things her way. I love that about her.
She can also text message faster than I can talk. One day I’ll do a YouTube video of that, it will blow your mind.
Everytime a friend of Sweetpea has a birthday, she makes them cupcakes. So I made her a big cupcake looking birthday cake today.
Waystation
Some good friends of ours came over to visit Saturday night. They just sort of popped in which is pretty normal for us Cajuns. It’s great actually, I hate knowing days in advance that someone is coming. Too much worrying and fretting about what I need to get ready for entertaining them. So I’m cool with this surprise visit.
They came to tell us goodbye. They are moving to another country and won’t be back. That was a surprise, too. But it’s something I’ve heard over and over again in this town. People come here for a few years, make their careers or fortunes and then move on to better place.
This is a waystation.
We came here exactly twenty years ago with the intention of staying about five. That turned to ten, fifteen, twenty… A waystation for twenty years.
We came close to moving out to Austin about seven years ago. An inch from it. I really thought it would happen. We sold our boat, had our house appraised, got it ready to sell. Still no go.
I sit here now, my bags packed. We are are always “ready” to go. “Don’t buy anything big,” Blane always tells me. We are leaving soon. This reminds me of the little old ladies in the nursing homes who hang out in the doorways with their bags packed, they tell you, “I don’t live here, my son is coming to get me this afternoon.” Day after day. The same same people saying the same thing. We don’t live here.
One time Blane told me I’ve already left. That might have been taken as an insult by anyone else, but in my psychedelic mind, I loved it. If you understand a little sting theory, you know what I mean.
Blane’s Got a Brand New Blog
I’m always talking people into starting a blog. It’s a great place to exercise the brain cells, to keep in touch with friends and family, to vent, to inform, to show off photos of things you’re proud of…
Or just to have a place to talk about some things. I don’t think I would have survived the past year had I not started blogging.
There is something I need to say right now. To all of my friends, family, and strangers who have come here week after week through all those bad times, I thank you for giving me so much strength and sticking around for the good times.
Finally, my husband, Blane has decided to enter the blogosphere. His blog is a little differerent, it is about martial arts, something he has studied with our son Blane Jr. for some years now. He hasn’t given me the okay to link him just yet as he’s still working on it. Sorry about that.
I’m sure since he is competitive he’ll be hounding me for my blog stats. No doubt his will pass mine in no time, but that is not such a big deal with me. I’m not a competitive person. He is, though. I found that out the first time I beat him at cards. He accused me of cheating!
It’s not about winning or losing, it’s about how much fun you have doing it. How much you learn from it. How much others learn from it. Sharing.
That is me, a long long long time ago.
This is Halloween
Here are some photos of Halloween yards taken last year:
This one had a Pirates of the Carribean theme.
The homeowner even dressed up and hung out in the yard to greet Trick-Or-Treaters. He told me he spends all his free time during the year making his decorations in his garage.
I like the distressed iron fence and faux column.
This yard was full of funny headstones.
And it was rigged with lightening that was sync’d to a thunder soundtrack.
We found this zombie cow roaming the neighborhood, hiding in the bushes and frightening the older trick-or-treaters.
This seems like a fun hobby. We used to have a guy in our other neighborhood who would turn his garage into a haunted house. He had fog and blacklights, monsters and cobwebs, music, the works.
I have more halloween yard photos here.
Jump!
When I was a kid, the only time we were allowed to jump on the beds was when my mother changed out the sheets. She’d make a big deal out of parachuting them so we could have a big bubble to pounce on or we could crawl under the “tent” that lasted 5 seconds. Then she’d tell us to stop or we’d ruin the mattress.
Of course we did not believe that jumping on the bed would ruin anything. When she wasn’t around, her king-sized bed was our wrestling arena. We would also play a game where we had to stand stiffly and fall back onto the mattress without flinching while yelling, “Timberrrrrrrr.”
I understand her not wanting us to ruin her things. She knew she didn’t have the money to replace that mattress but every twenty years.
When my kids came along, I not only let them jump on the beds, I encouraged it.
Took photo evidence.
And man did they ruin those mattresses.
It happens so slowly over time that you don’t notice the damage. It took a visit from my father-in-law to make us realize that it was time to change them out. After spending one night in our guest room, he said “It felt like I slept in a rock garden last night.” He’s a funny guy, Popsie.
I Will Not Be Beaten
By the bloodsucking bastard mosquitoes in my backyard. Forget annhialation. Bug spray only makes them stronger. This is something they discuss at their buzz parties by the light of the bug zapper. Along with their evil plan to take me down.
How do I fight back these mutants and reclaim the property I rightfully own and wish to enjoy?
You know those fancy mosquito nets that are all the rage for interior decorating? They are quite useful outside, too. This particular model is made for king sized beds and it fit perfectly around my patio table.
Laugh all you want, bitches. This shit *works.
Now I can sit out there and write when it is too noisy inside. Or watch my barbeque. Or breathe some fresh air without getting eaten alive.
I RULE.
I am also vengeful. At night, I taunt them with my bug lights.
*Not a single mosquito was harmed or **killed.
**Not by choice.
Taking Back Sunday Letting Go Of Fred
It was no great shock on October 4th that Taking Back Sunday (TBS) announced Fred Mascherino quit their band. The last two times I saw them live, Fred carried them through the show.
Fred was their guitarist and co-vocalist. Even though the spotlights were always focused on the band’s frontman Adam Lazzara – with his good looks and swinging mic act – my eyes were drawn to Fred. He was the one doing most of the vocals while busting ass on that guitar.
It wasn’t always like this. About a year ago, we saw them just after Louder Now was released. Lazzara’s voice was in form. I didn’t even notice Fred too much. Since then, Lazzara’s voice has been in and out, but mostly out. The last two shows, he seemed like a puppet on stage, mostly lip singing to Fred’s vocals. That’s how it looked to me, and it was interesting to watch these guys cover it up. Even more fascinating was that the fans didn’t seem to care or maybe they were just willing to cut Lazzara some slack. I certainly did. Thing is, he wasn’t just hoarse, he lacked energy.
Unlike poor Fred (left, with the white guitar).
I don’t know how TBS will manage without Fred, especially if they will be touring anytime soon. He also wrote a good chunk of their music. Hopefully Lazzara will rest his voice and keep putting out new music. TBS says they are working on a new album.
So what is Fred up to now? Launching his solo career with his band, The Color Fred. I know, that name is just so blah. His first album, Bend to Break will be released on October 30th. There are a few songs on his website and MySpace page to sample. It sounds a bit more acoustic than the new rock he was doing with TBS. If you click this link to preorder, you might be able to score an autographed copy of the CD.
Haunted Out of My Freaking Mind
Halloween is the best time of the year. Costumes, candy, and h-h-h-haunted houses. Not real ones. The attractions you pay to go see. I love those places. Imagine the glee when Sweetpea told me she would be one of the actresses at one of these things.
Last night Spanky and I had to go take a ride out there to bring something to her. We didn’t think we’d get to go see the attraction, we had plans to go next week, on family night. When we got there, however, different story.
We HAD to go in there. It being a Sunday night and close to closing, seemed perfect, we would have Phantom’s Haunted Ranch all to ourselves.
Now you know I love these things. I don’t scare or get grossed out easily. These places are usually filled up with gory things and people banging on the walls, screaming, sneaking up on you. I was expecting the same old same old. Like the movie Hostel. That sort of scary.
This was different. Really different. More like the movie 1408. The person who planned this thing as well as the “actors” were absolutely brilliant. It is like no other haunted house I’ve ever been. I got the crap scared out of me. Like mental-mess-with-your head scary.
The ghouls and ghosties are improvisational actors. I admit, I laughed at first when they spouted the rules at the door, “The actors will not touch you, do not touch the actors.”
Now if you plan on going out to Phantom’s Haunted Ranch and Hayride in McKinney, Texas (near Dallas) do not read any further. There are spoilers here. Come back and read this later.
If you make it back.
The inside of this place is a dark maze. The hallways are lurking with dark characters. Not so much at first. It’s dead empty and you are not sure where to go after going through the entrance.
The first one to greet us led us around a few turns. He had a plastic hatchet in his hand and face paint, wore a dark robe. Spanky and I had our arms locked together.
He seemed nice and helpful, though, telling us how to work the maze. Other ghouls came around and hissed. I guess it was some sort of good cop/ bad cop con they were playing on us, because we came to depend on this guy with the hatchet. He asked if we are friends, all sorts of questions to figure out our relationship. I told the nice hatchet murderer I was Spanky’s mother.
That is when he said, “You must be separated.” We laughed, said it wouldn’t happen…
Next thing you know we are in a dark corridor with about six closed doors. We can’t even tell where we came from. Creeps are telling us to choose a door. I open one door and a monster comes out, the next, another freak. And so on, until the last door. This nice looking nerdy guy comes out. No makeup, nothing. I tell Spanky it is probably the scariest room. There has to be a trick. She goes into that one and does not come out. I get bombarded with ghouls and am so disoriented I don’t know which direction she went.
My thinking is any minute now, Spanky will rejoin me. But nooooooooooo, and choose what must have been the wrong door.
The freaks bombard me with lights, loud noises… I don’t know what else. All I know is I was lost as all shit in the dark and there were monsters coming at me from the ceiling, the floors, in front of me, behind me, everywhere. I’m worried to death about Spanky, surely she is getting the shit scared out of her, too. Somewhere. This is what messes with my head. Drives me insane.
There is a crazy bridge thing with a tunnel, this huge barrel that spins around. I’ve done that thing a million times before and have never gotten dizzy. The trick is to just run through it fast. These guys did what they had to do to make sure I went through it sloooooowly and I swear, I thought the room was really spinning. There were lots of other optical illusions which blew my mind. Like the room of dots. And the people in there with dot costumes that blended into the walls perfectly. Until the started moving.
Finally, Spanky joins me for the rest of the haunted house. I didn’t find out until we got to the car that they did not try to scare the living daylights out of her when we were separated. All she had was that one nerdy guy “acting” like he was trying to find her mother but failing to do so. She couldn’t believe that they worked me over like they did.
There is also a haunted hayride which is the part where Sweetpea works. It goes through a dark forest and is so creepy because the woods are full of actors, too. Some of the people on the hayride are actors and get “attacked” by creatures on that dark path. There are even ghosts on real horses out there.
A total freakout experience and no doubt a fun family outing. Especially if you have teenaged kids. Muhahahahahaha.
Shameless
Blane has a cousin from Austin who is a spoken word poet. He’s damn good, and last week he was a featured artist in a Dallas slam. He’s been featured here before, but last week was the first time I actually got to see him perform before a crowd.
Actually, this was my very first live slam, ever. It was in a tiny soda shoppe in an artsy downtown district. We got there so unfashionably early that we got seats in the front row. We were stupid enough to keep these seats. I wish we’d sat in the back. Just to look at people’s reactions to this stuff.
Anyway, the cousin’s specialty is erotic poetry. And man, it is rough. So rough his slam buddies call him “Shameless.”
So that’s his stage name. Shameless.
I knew his stuff was, you know. He’d recited his poetry to me before and I’ve read his chap books (these are self-published poetry books they sell at the door). So did his new girlfriend who was sitting all the way in the back. She’d at least read his stuff. So says. This was her first time watching it though. Maybe her first slam.
The host introduces him to the audience and when Shameless grabs the mic, a lady to my left says, “They call him Shameless, but look, he already blushin’.”
He was. I don’t know what sort of energy his girlfriend was emitting from way back there, but it must have been some negative mojo for that dude’s face to turn so red. Half-way during his performance, she walked out of the place. She wouldn’t even come back in to get the car keys from him. She texted him for that.
This is what happens when you tell someone you’ve read their work and you haven’t.
Talk about a slam.
Totally Whacked Dream
I don’t usually remember too many of my dreams, but last night’s one was a whopper.
Really dark, but a dark comedy, so if you don’t like that sort of thing, you should close this page right now. It’s baaaaaaaaad.
It started out good. I finally moved to France. Not Paris, but a beachy area there. I know this because I was in a little shop that sold sandals, beach baskets, and things to make sand castles. Plus, everyone was speaking French. So there I was putting all my beachy purchases into my tiny French car when I get a call. [Are you damned sure you want to read this? I warned you.]
It is my husband’s aunt, and she tells me that I will be dead the next day. I argue with her that I am feeling quite well, that she is mistaken, but she insists, tells me she has been a funeral director for 40 some-odd years, therefore a Death Expert, and I will indeed be dead the next day. My mother-in-law, also a funeral director gets on the phone and backs that up. (It is true that a lot of our family members are in the funeral busness)
Just like that, I’m in my hometown. Same day. Same message. Tomorrow is The Big Day. They tell me a lot of people have plans for Tomorrow and they have to wake me a day early.
Next thing you know I’m in a casket which is angled with my feet toward the people, the head of the thing propped up so I can see who’s there. I peek through my eyelashes and am quite disappointed with the turnout. Just a handful of old relatives. At least no one’s crying. I hear them chatting about how good I look.
I guess so.
Then they notice. My eyes are open. My mother-in-law comes over and tells me it’s freaking people out. Oh, and also, my hair doesn’t look quite the way they remember it, that I was going to have to restyle it when everyone left that night. I’m thinking I better haul ass when I go re-do my hair because these bastards are going to close that casket when The Time comes, whether I am dead or not.
Then I wake up. End of dream.
I don’t think dreams mean anything in a psychic sense, I’m not going to be careful and drive slower today or anything like that. I do believe they sort of tap into your belief systems. This one seems to be about how I don’t believe in pre-destiny but am willing to go along with it to an excruciating extent.
But wait… Just in case… Would that Big Day be today since I was dreaming this last night?
