Adderall That and a Bag of Chips

My brain is running around like an Adderall-snorting hamster in its enclosure tonight, but I'm still going to attempt to write a coherent-ish blog post, because I have been lazy and it has been three days since I last posted anything. I'd really like to make writing a daily thing, and I've heard that once you do something for 21 straight days, your brain considers it a habit, and it becomes easier to accomplish. This theory can be tested on all kinds of things, I'm sure. Like kissing someone, for instance. (Chiwetel Ejiofor- call me.)

Sooooooooo...where to start? I've had a fabulous couple of days. Yesterday, I got to go shopping for clothes for my new job. Fear not, my little monkeys of doom, I haven't left the bookstore - that will only happen if I were to expire or there is a restraining order involved. No, I took a second job so the fur shark could continue living the lifestyle to which she's accustomed. (Although, I refuse to buy her Silly Bandz. She's not a kitten anymore - she can live without mouse-shaped rubber bracelets. I don't care if all the other house cats have them.)

I hate shopping as a rule, especially for clothes, because the glamorous package that is me comes complete with serious body image issues. (I know - hating your body is so 1990s.) Regardless, I would rather pound nails into my skull* than try on clothing. I don't need fluorescent lighting and a large mirror to make myself cry - I can manage that just fine at home.** However, perhaps coasting on the excitement of starting my new job, or the fact that I was due to attend "Scott Pilgrim" in an hour, I gleefully snatched up armfuls of respectable-looking attire, and managed to walk away with several outfits, including a shiny little black-sequined number that isn't really work-appropriate, but I just HAD to have. (It was marked down from $90 to $20, and more importantly, it makes a sound like a heavy rainfall when you shake your tuckus. SCORE!)

Still with me? Okay, well, now would be the time to get up and stretch, get a snack from the fridge or go pee, because I still have a lot more ranting and raving to do.

After my successful clothing hunt, I went to see "Scott Pilgrim." I will be the first to say that I was initially angry that they were making the comics into a movie. I am fiercely protective of the things I love, and am repeatedly disappointed that the general population is very often introduced to a book by way of a lousy movie, because they usually end up changing so much. That said- zOMG! I HEART THE SCOTT PILGRIM MOVIE! SQUEEEEEEEE!

It was a really, really fun film. It was yummy to look at, the action was awesome, it (mostly) followed the comics and it was extremely funny. ("We are SexBob-Omb and we are here to make you think about death and get sad and stuff!") The only complaint I had was with Jason Schwartzman as the uber-charismatic Gideon. Now, I think "Hotel Chevalier", Schwartzman's short film with Natalie Portman, is one of the sexiest things ever recorded, and his brief sex scene in "The Darjeeling Limited" is crazy-hot. (I nearly fainted just now, thinking about him on the train, licking his hand.) But somehow, in "Scott Pilgrim", he failed to sell me on Gideon being utterly irresistible to the opposite sex. Still, it didn't detract from my viewing pleasure - I was teh happy! Looking forward to watching it again soon.

Okay, okay, I'm going to wrap this up, even though I'm super-awake and could go on for another 2,000 words. Maybe tomorrow, I'll tell you about today. And, maybe that will cause a rip in the space-time continuum! MWUAHAHAHAHA!

To give you an idea of how ADD I am this evening - while writing this post, I also:

- ate my weight in BBQ chips

- read 43 pages of a book

- tweeted 19 times

- answered 17 emails

- hulahooped

- perused the World of Warcraft boards on the Blizzard site (I have a level 42 paladin. I named her Sarah Paladin - I'm that cool)

- sang along with "Silent Sigh" by Badly Drawn Boy six times

- composed a list of recent favorite reads for @smartbitches

- got involved in a land war in Asia

I will leave you with a personal Learn From My Fail: no matter how long a bottle of Diet Sprite has been sitting, always open it carefully. Whether it's the chemicals it's made from, or because your town is on a Hellmouth, if you attempt to just normally open the bottle, the contents will spew out all over the front of your shirt with a violence usually only seen in erupting volcanoes and you will be left smelling like you just breastfed faeries.

And on that note, good night.

*Holla, @byseanferrell!

**This is what unreasonable self-loathing will get you: I am so unhappy with my figure, I don't even shower with the lights on, and last night, I managed to put apple-scented hand lotion in my hair instead of conditioner. Learn from my fail, ladies: subscribe to the belief that popular culture dictates how you should look, and you'll end up walking around with greasy hair that is scented like a Blow-Pop.

Touch Me, I'm Sick

I have a touch of bibliomania. At last count (which was this morning, starting at around 5am, because I couldn't sleep), I have 1,037 books in my house that I haven't read. Haven't. Read. I moved into this apartment three years ago with only 200 books I had read. Since then, I have been gathering books like a crazy little red book squirrel, apparently storing them for when I have years of free time to read. I admit I have a problem - and that problem is the most awesome problem you can have! *high five*

My apartment is now like a tiny bookstore. Every few weeks I introduce the newest books into the stacks, most likely to be forgotten for a while. My next read usually ends up being the last book I brought home. Many times, I have accidentally purchased a book I already own. But it's a delight to go over the shelves and look at all the shiny books, waiting to be picked. It's a great habit, if you can get it.

Some numbers, at a quick glance:

-1, 037 unread books

- 486 are nonfiction titles

- 297 are hardcover

- 187 are advanced reading copies

- 78 are for young readers

- 45 are by authors I met on Twitter

- 28 have the word 'murder' in the title

- 23 feature vampires

- 19 have cats on the cover

- 17 have the word 'girl' in the title

- 13 have the word 'city' in the title

- 7 have the word 'tattoo' in the title

- 7 feature zombies

- 6 feature Abraham Lincoln, in some capacity

- 5 I bought to impress @bookavore

- 4 feature superheroes

- 4 feature pirates

- 3 feature ninjas

Imagine how much reading I could have done in the time it took to count all that? Does anyone else have it this bad?

Zombies Made Me Cut My Hair

On Wednesday, I cut off five inches of my hair. (From the bottom, of course, duh.) Hair is really the only thing you would want to sever from your body - it would stink to remove five inches of, say, your arm. Or your intestines. (That's a real buzz kill.)

Speaking of removing intestines - I just read THE REAPERS ARE THE ANGELS by Alden Bell, and I loved it. I am such a fan of zombies (those tenacious little monkeys). Has the story of people trying to survive after a zombie apocalypse been done before? Many, many times. But, it's not what you say, but how you tell it that counts, and Bell does it up right. The characters are realistic, the plot never drags and there's tons of gore. Delightful!

Somewhat related: while I was reading REAPERS, I got to thinking - what if there really were zombies? What if, one day, I got up and went downstairs for some juice and - whoa! Zombies! In the book, as in most zombie lore, the monsters are slow moving and easily outmaneuvered. So why do so many people end up as snacks? I'm not even close to athletic and I can't run very fast, but I'm sure I can manage enough of a pace to keep away from them. Unless, of course, they manage to grab a fistful of my hair - MY HAIR! I cannot believe I am going to be brought down in the zombie apocalypse by my long, lovely locks! That settles it - if/when the zombies come, I'm going to chop all my hair off, right before I outfit myself with handguns and a flame thrower.

This thinking progressed into trying to remember the last time I had received a haircut. Which I realized was two years ago. And, so, this is how I came to be holding five inches of detached hair. Sometimes, when I find myself wondering "How did I end up naked in Fruit Loops?" or "Whose blood is this?" I walk myself backwards through the thought process. Inside my brain = SCARIER than a zombie apocalypse. Better hope they eat me first.