Zombie Piano Blog Header.

Neily drew me a zombie piano. A ZOMBIE PIANO. Our love will never die, and if it does, it'll just come back and eat your brains and the brains of your stolen horse.

Ooooh... that's good.. I'm writing that into our wedding vows.

Beach Vampire Bingo

Eddie Cullen. Forks prom night, 1977. Who says you can't makeover hospital gowns into evening attire? Vampires have many varied skill sets.

So. I watched a Twilight movie. I know, you guys- but I needed to know what the fuss was about for people over the age of 25. I still need to know, because as far as I can tell, it's just a cacophony of depressed teenagers being extremely serious & deep (as teenagers are world renowned for) while running around in the forest, getting into predicaments and making out and then deciding NOT to make out at the last second because it's too dangerous. Seriously, it's like Stephanie Meyer found the deep, dark, black velvet-lined, thesaurus-ravaged poetry anthology that I wrote when I was fifteen and just filled it in here and there with sparkles. I hadn't thought of mixing my mom-making-me-do-my-chores induced depression with sparkly magic boyfriends or I would be filthy rich today. Plus none of my boyfriends were very sparkly OR magic , except the ones who have had braces (Sorry ex boyfriends who are no doubt pouring over this blog every day with their regrets for letting this gem get away. We can still be friends, some of you.)- but that is entirely beside the point.

There is a glaring piece of history in this novel that needs to be filled in *fingertap x3*: What was Edward Cullen doing between the years of 1901 and 2003? I'm sure he didn't just sit around twiddling his thumbs and draining cats. He seems like a stylish feller. I mean, sure, Bella Swan came along and blew him off his feet with her great attitude, because in allll those years, those DECADES AND DECADES, there was nobody more interesting than a pissy little 17 year old whiner with zero sense of humor and a ton of baggage. Uh huh. Not to mention, she smells like BBQ to him.What we learn here is that the way to a man's heart is solely through his stomach, which means that smelling like meat 24/7 = win for everyone!

In fact, since seeing it, every morning I dab a little bit of Dorito cheese powder behind my ears to drive Neil wild with lust. Then he's all, "I would kiss you right now, but I don't want to hurt you..." and I'm like, "DAMMIT, I overdid it when I switched to the cool ranch Dorito cheese powder." Then Neil is all, "I am leaving and never coming back. To protect you." So then I say, "Then I'm making friends with the neighbor's Pomeranian and when it turns into a real boy, I'm getting it to fix the minivan and then I'm jumping in front of a bus and you'll HAVE to come back. To save me." Then he's like, "Damn. You are clever. Let's get married" So then I say, " SHa. Right. I'd have to get divorced from my OTHER husband for that to happen, speaking of undead." Then we laugh and gaze at each other, then look away in pain. Then we almost makeout, but I have to run out of the room in my flowing dress. We're just like Edward & Bella, only like 30 years later or something- and with a mortgage and no time to sit in our bedrooms and pout from the months of October until March. Plus he's even older than me. What a dirty old perv, eh? Yeah totally.

AAaanyhoo, what this pedophile, Edward, has going for him though- is his dazzlingly great looks! Just like Luke Perry, he can still pass for 17 at the age of 38, 76 and finally 102! I'm sure there are more than a few priests out there who would give their eye teeth (if they have any left- ho ho ha ha hee, *sigh* funny funny stuff, Self.) to be immortalized as a sparkling 13 year old.. Nobody would eEEeeEEver suspect what kinds of shenanigans they were up to in their forever-disguises as adolescents. Not even the Pope. Anyhow, enough digressing about vampire *pedophiliac church deacons. I am actually here to discuss the metamorphosis of Mista Cullen:

Ed on his way to his first Werewolf war. AwwWWww!

What do you mean you didn't notice??

Edward purchases his first automobile, 1920ish. What a wild day when he took it 4x4ing. Luckily he had the guns mounted on the roof loaded with silver bullets to ward off snickering werewolves when they could walk faster than he could drive and then later when he was cranking up the engine. He can't wait for trans-ams to be invented.


Ed sporting his stylin' new zoot suit. What a riot!


Just hangin' out with his satin, brocade dinner jacket, 1963. Chillin' out. Just Chillaxin' and being a vampire. He wasn't going to be any dirty 60s hippy; no, he was gonna be cruisin' the laydays...


Edward adopts his 'animals only' vegetarian-vampire diet. Silly Edward confused monkeys with monkees.

Edward "Sazzle" Cullen briefly performs with the band, Queen. He could even go out in the sun for a while and people just thought his sparkles were sequins. This is when he was also experimenting with supertight perms.

Edday Cull-an. Fashioning hisself after the (almost?) late Leif Garret. Is that guy dead? I dunno. I'm not looking it up. WEET WOO! Old Ed has been a hearthrob through ALL the decades.
(Oh me, Oh my, OH NO! That vampire has a camel toe!)


Edward attends a gladiator pool party in 1982, sadly he has to sit in the shadows and just watch even though he KNOWS he could beat those guys.. Poor Edward.


Edward Cullen did some extra work for the popular family sitcom, ALF in the late 80s. Again, he had to be extra careful not to be caught under the show's lighting equipment so nobody would see his telltale vampire sparklies.


Ed moves onto the 80s fashion scene nice. and. smooth-like. Here he is in his 76th 11th grade photo.


Seriously? I'm the only one who noticed?

So, there we have a sneak peek into the history of Edward Cullen. I am going to go now and continue trying to figure out why grown people are excited about this. Don't we have enough on our plates dealing with REAL teenager mood swings? Why subject ourselves? I mean IIIII have a good reason. I need blog material. The rest of you. *tsk tsk* I am fascinated by this phenomenon. It's like adults buzzing about parent-trap or beach blanket bingo. I will never ever ever understand.

Where was Mr Cullen when all THIS was going on?


*is too a word. No... don't check.

Morning cuteness: is it really real- or what?

The following simulation is something that I like to call, "If Neil had cameras installed inside of his eyeballs/Angel of the Morning."

Psst... Neeeeeillly...

HooOoooOooNeyyyyyyy...


Psssst *tap tap*


Oh Neeeeily...



Wakey wakeeeeey....

Psssst, Honey! It's Moooooorniiiiing!



Good morning, Darling, did you sleep well?


Oh, you didn't? What racket? I slept like a new baby lamb.


Nope, didn't hear a thing. Nope, nothing at all. Totally dead to the world. See? My pillow is saturated in drool even! YAAAAWN... Such a sound sleep I had...


Who me? No I don't talk in my sleep.. perhaps I snore a titch...


I said what in my sleep?


OMG, I should write that crazy s%$# down.
Why yes, I am of partial British Ancestry. Yes, and French... You knew that about me already... Did you have a bad dream or something?


Why do you ask? Voulez vous desire la cafe or something? A spot of tea whatwhat? Is that why you're asking, Neil? Is it?


HmmMMMM? Is it?


Ehhh? You want some delicious tea, do you? Or some coffee?


Just a sec... Could you just.. just scratch that itchy spot..... I'll scratch yours.. Yeah, my arms are still numb from laying on them. Nope, I have totally useless arms just now. That's great. Just great.


Thanks hon. What's that? no I can't sleep in make up.


Yeah, it clogs your pores... TERRIBLE idea, unfortunately.


You what? You got me something? You are too good to me, Neily.


Vitamins, huh? Oh you got me some... "Morning... Glory...Ladee's beauty vitamins.... You think I need these...... no? Okay, *phew*."


Are they holistic, Darling? I bet they're just as helpful as punch.


So what have you got planned today, my dear?


Oh, you're in a hurry to get to work, eh? That's a pity. Give us a kiss then... Oh that big of a hurry huh? A big meeting, have you, Sweetest?


Well then, I'm off to have a coffee & a little splash of makeup. Yes, I promise to take the vitamins... Off you go!


Let me just...*if I can just swing these sleepy old legs around...* go have a look at the damage first...

They mate with their braids.

Me: SoOOoooo, Neilypants, what are we doing for VALENTINES DAAAAAY???

Neil: Um... you said you didn’t want to bother with it.

Me: *Silence and staring for 3 entire minutes* ......... Surely you know that’s female for, “I want you to think I’m special enough to ignore what I said about it not mattering to me and shower me with attention because I totally deserve it despite what I said earlier about it during the test phase....” Plus I ALWAYS make all the plans and you NEVER do blah blah blah...guilt guilt guilt... exaggerate, drag the issue out etc etc

Neil: Um, yeah.. I MADE plans, Asshole. I’m onto you. Secret plans.

Me: You better have. *squint* Secret eh?

Neil: Yeah, I thought we could go outdoor skating in the afternoon, I got a babysitter.

Me: Hmmm... Sounds nice, but I hate skating and does it have to be in the afternoon? I was just outside yesterday, I mean how many times do I have to go outside in a week? A hundred? a hundred and one? But really. That’s our Valentines plan? Skating?

Neil: You are seriously the worst person ever.

Me: I know. I’m sorry. I like your plan. Really I do, let me make it up to you by us going for sushi and seeing Avatar in 3D instead of that skating thing on Valentines. BrrrRrrr... chilly out... brrrr.... You know me, I’m an altruist at heart. Only thinking about you, Darling.

Neil: Romance oozes from your pores

Me: *chewing gum* Huh? Are you saying that I have big pores? I'm working on it okay? I didn't think it was that noticeable... Frig, it's like they just won't stop expanding like little windows opening up on the great skyscraper that is my face... Oooh, this is a pg 13 movie; probably not a ton of blood, eh? Bummer. I hear there are dragony things, though and that they mate with their braids.. SoOoounds ROMANTIC! Maaating with their braaAaaiiiiiids, Neily, their BraaAaaaaiiiiids...... *uncomfortable winking* Hey, do you think I should grow out my hair?

Neil: Okay if you don’t want to go skating, Avatar it is.

Me: I don’t know.. maybe we should see Wolfman instead.

Neil: Seriously? you’re changing the plan again? We’re seeing Avatar

Me: Alright, we’ll see the movie you want, Darling. After all, it’s Valentine’s day. Valentines day is about selflessness.

.....movie watching (simulation).
My goodness, but if we are not just the most attractive pair...

...leaving the theatre (simulation)
Hubba hubba.

Neil: So did you like it?

Me: Um.. It was okay... it was like a Disney teen star. Pretty enough, but not a whole lot to it otherwise, you know? Like... it should just keep on riding the teen-idol train until the looks start dragging and it needs to be digitally enhanced because college isn’t probably going to work out for it anyway. Better to tell it now and save years of heartache and disappointment. Gets yours while you can, Avatar, get yours while your parents are still rooting for you.

Neil: It’s up for an Oscar...

Me: Really? Well I’m sure if it flips it’s hair enough and says, “Oopsydoodles” a lot, it’ll get what it wants. I’m not mad.. It’s just the way it is. After all, it was very very pretty. And hey! Good News! The cat isn’t in heat anymore!

Neil: GARBAGE WATER GARBAGE WATER GARBAGE WATER

Me: HEY *gag* no fair *gag* you can't say that *hack* you know it makes me throw up! *gag* Bad Form, Neil!! *gag*

So there. I’ve shared the romance of my Valentine’s day with you lot, except for the part where I scratched my valentine's day lotto ticket, hoping for enough money to buy a new toilet. I'm stilly madly in lovey with Neil. Gross, eh? I am though.

Now get back to minding your own business and don’t forget to enter my CONTEST.

Ito eat like... teeth are out of styyyyle...♫♫♫

The new coffee maker is so awesome, you guys. It even makes iced coffee. OOoOoooh! Just think of how amazing it would be if I liked iced coffee! You should come over and I'll make you an iced coffee (disclaimer: don't come over unless you already know me, you freak. Take off those shoes and sit back down). Mainly I just want to do the thing where you put ICE in it instead of water. Imagine how fun!

It also has coffee made for me in the morning; this might be old news to you- but I've never personally had such fanciness. I never thought I deserved it *sob*. In fact, this morning I got up and sang it a jaunty little version of "Ito Eats" from the blockbuster Elvis Blue Hawaii movie and it cheerfully burbled along to my swingin' rhythm. It didn't even mention that my hair was sticking directly up into the air on one side or that I still had pillow indents across my face, causing me to look like a meatier, reptilian version of Amy Winehouse's slashed up arms. It knew to make me coffee so that my morning-induced **wandering eye would wander on back to it's rightful place and I would be gorgeous again. My ex coffee maker wouldn't do anything like that. It just grunted and hissed and gave my blender terribly lewd looks when it thought I wasn't looking, then it just laid around making sloppy coffee and letting it's arteries clog up. Psh. I don't know how I could have been so blind.

EVERYBODY!

♫♫♫Eat! Ito eat all de night and de daydaydaydaydaydayyyYYyyyyyyyyyy♫♫♫

What an inspiring song.

**I don't have a wandering eye, TYVM. That's only a rumor that I just started.

Tada.

To be perfectly honest, I wish I could have found nice clowns. At least these ones are honest. Neil says he likes his clown pants, which ruined everything and made me tell him that he's practically John Wayne Gacy, after which he made THIS face at me:

And I am still trying to figure out what it means.

The love of my life.

The really great news is that my parents got me a sewing machine. This is great for the following two reasons, which are: a)I will be able to MAKE Neil's Christmas pants and b) I am a terrible seamster. (FYI I couldn't write sew-er without calling myself a terrible sewer). Anyhow, the point here is that I can now give Neil poorly sewn, super unique pants!! Maybe I'll sew ruffles onto his clown pants, or maybe I'll sew the arms of his tshirts all shut.

AllllLLlright. I'm still here.

Nag naggy nag.

So it was Christmas. Honestly, I have been holding out because I want you all to savour the horrible, horrible, horrible, horrid, unspeakable, vile, horrible, offensive, wonderful new 4th installment of the annual Traditional Ugly Christmas pants that I got for Neil (Click here to see the past three pairs). Truly, there have never been worse pants ever made. Whoever is responsible needs to be found out and crowned the Evil Pants-Master of Christmas. They are the sum of our nightmares, in fact I'm pretty sure they are responsible for world hunger AND Nancy Grace's personality. The worst thing is that they were the last ones. This means that several other people also bought the same ones.. possibly as serious gifts for people... or maybe someone saw them and thought, "OoOoooH... This print is going to work perfectly for hiding that extra holiday weight I've put on!" Or perhaps someone bought them all as a Holiday kindness and burned them. WELL. They missed a pair. HehehEHHEheheheh!

This is the fourth year running that I have searched far and wide to find the most offensive roadie pants on the planet. Every year, I feel that I've outdone myself and then every year- Eureka!! I find worse. This year, it was like Rudolph shone his glorious spot-bat-light on them in the ugly pants paradise store. I left the place clutching my plastic bag to my heart while giggling like a maniac. Oh I am a HORRIBLE GENIUS!!!!!

The thing is... he hasn't gotten them yet. Our family is having our late Christmas tomorrow morning and I decided to have him wait until then. I just know he's bubbling over inside with foreboding willies anticipation.

But the very best thing about this wonderful Christmas tradition is later in the year when I see a stranger at a gas station, mustache wafting in the breeze, scenting the air all around with beef jerky and red bull, wearing the very same pants that I got for Neil. It just makes my whole year. I suppose I'll never know if anyone else has last year's identical lime green and red Portugal underpants that I bought him to match his generic beerpants... But one must always hold out hope.

Just look at the love for me in his eyes last Christmas! Everyone loves Portugal Underpants! Especially Scottish Men like my Neily. I thought they would be so dashing under his kilt! He's so lucky to get to live with me and all of my magical holiday ideas.

I'll post a picture of the wonderful moment tomorrow, so you'll have to wait until then to see them. I just know that you will probably not even leave your computers. You are just dying for your eyes to take them in and imprint onto your brain they way that they have imprinted onto mine.

Dear Oozing, Gum-Chewing Eyelids of Mine,

Your timing couldn't be more exemplary: Halloween! What a wonderful time to have conjunctivitis. It's very festive to go around seeing the world in a cloudy haze. You can all go ahead and turn off your expensive fog machines, now (unless you have one of those cool ones that also makes maniacal laughing sounds... BWaHahAHHaaA! You leave that bad boy on ALL YEAR, you hear me?). All you have to do is simply touch your eyeball to my eyeball and watch the thin string of slime that connects us in conjunctive matrimony as it stretches between our mutual gaze- and then in a few short hours, you'll get the very same, all natural visual effect. I will be starting a pink eye selling stand at the end of my driveway later this afternoon, when all the kids are walking home from school. Or maybe I'll hand out pink eye instead of Halloween treats. Who knows? Heaven knows, I'm full of money saving ideas these days.

What was really fun, though, was when I took 3 kids to the dentist yesterday, not fully realizing that I actually looked like someone had lubricated my eyeballs in vanilla pudding (HA. You'll never eat pudding again. This is great for your diet). They were fine when I left, I swear- perhaps a titch itchy but that can be easily blamed on the kitten (like most things that go wrong in my life. Damn you, kitten, for messing with my taxes!!). By the time I arrived, I looked like a viral monkey.


Now whenever I want to bat my eyelashes at the imaginary pool boy or a Canadian celebrity, such as Rick Mercer, I'll have to put on some kind of germ proof barrier, or wear one of those ducky yellow suits that Dustin Hoffman wore in Outbreak. Then maybe a hole will be accidentally punctured in the suit, leaving everyone vulnerable, as I lean over the hospital bed in despair as Rene Russo dies. I hope you're happy, Conjunctivitis. I hope you're reeeeeal happy.

Love Michelle.