Praises & Bitchings: New Album Reviews-ish

September is a cornucopia of eargasms with the upcoming release of Opeth's new album, Heritage, and Tori Amos's Night of Hunters. Or is it?

I listened to both back-to-back last night, making mental notes and losing sleep from the thoughts I was attempting to gather. If you didn't already know, Opeth is one of my favorite bands of all time. And Tori is my wife. Sort of. She doesn't know. And I don't stalk her or anything, so she will never know. Wow, what a shitty marriage. Plus, she's married to someone else and we don't belong to that Mormon sect that still loves polygamy or whatever.

Anyway, let's get on with it.

(Disclaimer: I may sound harsh or entitled or something in some parts, but don't take it too seriously. I don't expect anyone to do what I say, ever, especially my favorite musicians.)

Dear Tori,

Please refrain from using your child's singing on anything else ever again. It ruined the album. I do not like the sound of children's voices, with the possible exception of young Michael Jackson. And even then I greatly prefer his adult voice, shamoning all over the place. To me, this screams self-indulgence or stage-mom-nepotism weirdness (for lack of better words). The album had the potential to be so amazing. Your voice is beautiful, the music is stunning and soothing, and I do love the songs that feature just you, doing what you do. So I'm not like, "Y U NO MAKE BOYS FOR PELE PT. 2?!?!" or anything like that. I noticed on another track, there was another voice. Didn't like that either. Just please, for the love of cheese, stop it. If you're going to have a guest vocalist, bring back Trent Reznor. I'm not even sure if you talk to him anymore, but do it anyway. His collaborations with his wife are irritating as well. And I'm not just saying that because I had a major crush on him and still think that you and he should have married. Bah.

Love,
Probably in the doghouse


Dear Mikael Åkerfeldt/Opeth,

Y U NO MAKE BLACKWATER PARK 2?!?!
Nah, I'm kidding, even though Blackwater Park is one of the best albums ever made.
Thank you for not having your children featured as guest vocalists. Also, you pretty much admitted that this album would be self-indulgent, so I appreciate that. We knew about your passion for prog. It was only a matter of time that you'd do this. I can say that I liked the album upon first listen. I will come to love it in time, I'm sure. It lacked growls but was not a Damnation clone. Your singing continues to improve. I can only hope my voice will do that too someday. I didn't miss the growls, but that's probably because I was listening with a splitting headache at the time, possibly caused by kids singing where they shouldn't. The music was comforting to me. Y'all are doing a great job. Objectively, Heritage is not my favorite Opeth album. You don't care. I don't expect you to care. Still rocks, though. And you still look like Jesus, Mike. I cannot wait to see Opeth and Katatonia live next month!

Love,
Trying not to have a one-person Wayne's World moment

P.S. When is Katatonia releasing a new album? I need it. Badly.

Being Too Close To Nature, Plasma Facilities, and Hungry People

WARNING: This post might be a bit lengthy. I probably deserve every tl;dr that I might get. Read on, if you dare.

Well, hello again. Since my last update I've been pretty busy with various things. They range from the mundane (eating, toileting, sleeping, marathoning Dragonball and Dragonball Z, etc.) to I-can't-believe-this-is-happening (read on for that stuff).

Firstly, last weekend was spent "donating" plasma and then drifting in and out of consciousness, feeling like death. Was it worth the $85 (Zach made $50; I made $35)? Damn straight. The more excruciating part was the many hours in the waiting room and various testing rooms, where they made us repeat our names, addresses, and social security numbers as if we were some kind of amnesiacs. Then we had to prove we were literate a couple times, followed by a bunch of health questions and physical examinations. The bright side? After some typical Hugh Grant movie finally decided to get off the screen, they showed MRS. DOUBTFIRE!!! One of my favorite movies of all time. Too bad I missed most of it because of the various exams and interrogations. :(

While we were in the donating stage, Major Payne came on, which royally pissed me off. The movie, in case you aren't familiar with it, begins with George Thorogoods' "Bad to the Bone." There is a certain other fabulous piece of cinematic genius that also begins with that song. It's about this adopted redheaded boy who gets in a lot of trouble and causes all kinds of problems for the kind, loving, and handsome man who just wanted to be a great dad, but gets shit on by everyone he knows, because apparently that town is full of asshats. Problem Child. I was really, really hoping that I was about to have the presence of John Ritter soothing me in a time of extreme anxiety. But noooooo. Damon Wayans had to ruin everything. If they had to show a movie starring him, why wasn't it Earth Girls Are Easy? Then I could have been comforted by Jeff Goldblum's presence, at least. Bah.

I decided on listening to Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds instead, which helped for awhile...until the numbness spread throughout my body. I begun to panic, nearing hyperventilation. My brain stopped functioning temporarily; I still don't recall turning off my iPod. By the time the phlebotomist came to help me, I had lost my hearing. Apparently we had not eaten enough beforehand, which can cause some nasty side effects such as this. I thought I was okay after a few minutes of rest. But then I collapsed outside the clinic, alone and starring in a one-man slapstick show. We haven't gone back since then, but hopefully it will be better next time.

Thursday held a trip to downtown for Pig Out in the Park. I love food, and I love downtown. Unfortunately...waaaaaay too crowded for my liking. I expected it, but I deal with it much better when I'm not actually experiencing it. Crowds make me claustrophobic.

Zach & I had some yummy Chinese food. My one complaint is that their egg rolls were called "The best egg rolls ever." Now, when somebody makes a claim like that, it had better be true. They were quite good, but I've had better. The ones my mom & I used to make were honestly the best ones I've had so far (and I've consumed soooo many egg rolls in my lifetime). That's not being conceited or anything. Just my opinion.

Also, we've decided that once we can afford an apartment, we're going to try to move downtown. It's surprisingly cheaper than I thought.

So then we decided to go camping for the weekend with Zach's parents, his sister, and her boyfriend. I've realized that I'm more of a nature lover in theory than in practice, for one reason. Just one. INSECTS. They were horrible.

There were some good times: S'mores, taking photographs, seeing all the cute squirrels run around, getting drunk and playing a rousing game of Balderdash...

And then there were bad times.

Bees. Mosquitoes. Flying ants. EVERYWHERE. All over me, all over the food, all over everyone else...if there is one thing I cannot stand, it is insects on food. If I've seen something land on it, I will not eat it. It's just gross. Not to mention my severe phobia of bees/wasps/hornets/bumblebees/yellow jackets/etc. If they are near me long enough, I have panic attacks.

By the time we got home, I felt dirty and like I'd never be the same again. One shower later and I still feel them crawling on me. Maybe I need therapy...again.

In Pursuit of Sustenance

As I type this, sweat is still clinging to my back. My hair is damp, and the exhaustion is creeping up on me like a thief in the night. A perfect testimony to my lack of physical shape, it feels as if I've just reached the summit of a tall mountain and gone back down again. In reality we only walked a few miles and back. The heat was scorching, the sun sending its bright light right (try saying that 10 times fast) into our faces. I had considered doing a rain dance in the middle of the street. Even some cloud cover would have been acceptable. Maybe some wind. How much is that to ask? In the almost three months that I've been here, I can count on one hand how many times it's rained.

Anyway, enough about the weather. The question is: why? Why did we do this? The exercise? Sort of. Lack of transportation? Yeah, that's part of it. I've given the most important reason away in the title, of course. We were hungry.

The chosen restaurant: Five Guys Burgers and Fries.

Zach went there for his birthday last year and told me about it since I was over 2000 miles away at the time. Today was my first time there, after bugging him to go for the last couple weeks. I'd read all kinds of great things about it, mostly on The Consumerist, and read some not-so-great things. Those mostly came from the Californians spoiled by In-N-Out Burger. I've been to California twice, and still haven't tried it. Maybe someday...but I digress.

When we finally reached the place, we were drenched in sweat and ready to kiss the inventors of deodorant and air conditioning.

The interior at this location looked very clean, which was immediately a plus. It was semi-crowded, but I'd expected more people at dinner time on a Friday evening. Also a plus, since I was starving and too many people make me feel claustrophobic.

The inside is decorated in a red and white color scheme, with praises from a variety of sources plastered on the walls. Okay, so you've shown me several reasons to have high expectations before I even have the food in my hands. Now prove them right.

The prices are fairly high, which is a minus. For two "little" bacon burgers (one patty instead of two), two drinks, and one regular order of Cajun fries, it set me back over $17. The bright side is that there's a big list of toppings that one can choose from, all free, and free refills on the drinks. If I hadn't consumed a few cups of pop, then I doubt the meal would have been filling enough for me. Then again, I have a voracious appetite. The regular fries were said to feed two people; I definitely felt like I needed my own. Most people probably would be satisfied, though. But, considering the price, it should be enough for anyone. Next time I hope I can afford one with two patties.

My burger was essentially like a steak on a bun.

Toppings: onions, grilled mushrooms, lettuce, green peppers, A1 steak sauce, and hot sauce.

For the most part, it was delicious. The Cajun fries were even better than I expected. The main problem was with the bun. It fell apart. I've seen other complaints about that, so I know it's not just one bad bun. Zach's was doing the same thing.

Pros: Lots of free toppings, free refills, friendly staff, clean interior, yummy fries

Cons: A little expensive for those with limited budgets (like yours truly), buns that fall apart, extensive use of peanut oil. The last isn't actually a con for me, but would be for those with peanut allergies. There are also peanuts sitting out for people to snack on while they wait or with their food. Definitely an allergy danger zone. I can relate. I almost died at Red Lobster once.

Overall, I would recommend it if you're tired of run of the mill fast food burgers and fries, like to get creative with your food, and have a little extra money to spend. They also serve hot dogs and vegetarian options. I will definitely be going there again sometime.

(Also, I didn't notice, but Zach told me that some creeper was staring at my ass while I was there. I NEVER notice things like that. Most of the time I'm completely oblivious to my surroundings. Oops.)

Oh, and my 'R' key isn't sticking anymore.

That Cupcake Tastes Like Shame

Warning:
This entry may or may not discuss diets, exercise, fatness, and all that other crap that everyone else seems to be preoccupied with these days. I will not blame you if you deliberately yawn and get as far away from here as possible.

Before I begin, please allow me to establish some facts about myself.

A.) While I am not technically overweight now, I have been in the past and am pretty much teetering on the edge again. It might have been my potato and chicken wings diet that I had going on for awhile this year, or...

2.) Portion control my arse! Super size it? Yes, please! In fact, gimme two of 'em! I've always been a big eater. For a long time I used food as comfort to help cope with my depression. I don't eat as much as I used to, but I would if I actually could.

D.) Exercise? Is that the thing where the priest goes all, "THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU!" with the holy water and tries to get demons out of girls with a proclivity for projectile vomiting? Oh, wait...that's an exorcism. Then what the bloody hell is exercise?

The hilarious thing about this is that I happened to be an athletic child. I loved sports, basketball in particular. I collected cards with my favorite players on them, practically worshipped Michael Jordan as my own personal deity, took the opportunity to shoot some hoops whenever I had the chance, and could own the much taller adults in HORSE or PIG (assuming they didn't let me win, the scoundrels). Back then I was on a ramen and Dorito diet (mostly by choice), so that probably explains why I didn't contribute to childhood obesity statistics.

Once I hit puberty that athleticism disappeared like it had never been there in the first place. I decided to focus on my burgeoning "talents" on the artistic side of things and didn't look back.

Anyway, the point is, I'm not really one to take enjoyment in physical activities these days. I've tried several times and have given up because it bores me and hey, it's been two months and WHY DO I LOOK EXACTLY THE SAME?!?! Screw this, I'm going out for a Whopper (they're better than Big Macs). Then, I'm gonna eat an entire cake by myself. Huzzah.

It's not pretty. Not at all.

Which brings me to the next topic of discussion. Healthy eating. It hurts. Big, juicy steak, or salad? I can only have one. Get the salad away from me, ASAP, or I'm throwing it at the wall. This would be every day with me. I'm a meat and potatoes girl. Always have been. Occasionally I'll have vegetables, but only if I'm getting everything else I want too.

However, since I've moved in with my boyfriend and his family, I'm doing a bit better since I'm not the one doing the cooking most of the time. His mom cooks healthier meals than what I'm used to.

I'm also doing better with the exercise. Zach (boyfriend) is fairly in shape already and likes to work out. Last week I started doing it with him. My first day on the exercise bike, I couldn't even burn 50 calories before I felt like dying. I think I only made it to 35. Yikes. Last night I made it to 130. That was a huge struggle, especially toward the end. I was panting, sweating everywhere, and gritting my teeth while Twisted Sister's "We're Not Gonna Take It" blasted into my ears.

Tonight I did a total of 150, with other exercises in between. According to the scale I've dropped 2 pounds already. Probably water weight, BUT IT'S PROGRESS!!!

I'm also trying to do it for health reasons, as my health isn't the best to begin with and Zach gets upset when I joke about dying from a massive heart attack at the age of thirty.

We shall see if it sticks. I am a notorious flake about, well, everything. My bad.

Stephen King Must Not Be Human. Period.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Throb. Throb. Throb. Pulse. Pulse. Pulse.

A drum circle of pain used my head as a rehearsal space, a constant beat imprinting itself into the inside of my skull. All was black. What had happened?

I refrained from opening my eyes, attempting to gather my thoughts. Blurry images floated around. None came into focus. Something wasn’t right here. I had a feeling that this was not the result of a night of binge drinking or simply falling and hitting my head. Why couldn’t I remember anything?

I realized that I was moving. I was in someone’s car. Every bump that the tires hit caused my head to feel like it would burst open. My forehead was resting against the dashboard, adding insult to injury. By approximately the fifth large bump, a soft cry of pain spilled from my lips.

Voices. I heard voices. More than one.

This is a story that I started about five months ago. This is all I've written so far. I haven't necessarily been working on it the whole time, but therein lies the problem. It is/was based on a disturbing dream I'd had. As long as I could remember everything I'd dreamt and could make necessary changes, how hard could it be? If I'd started this story several years ago, I would have at least forty pages by the five-month mark. What changed? I'm trying very hard to figure it out. Sometimes I feel like the real me has been replaced by a less efficient me. A me that can't do anything at all.

I never thought I was a particularly good writer; it was always other people telling me that while I usually flat out disagreed or privately wondered what they saw that I did not. All I could see were the flaws. The plot holes, the cheesy dialogue, the poor attempts at humor, the overall amateur vibe...or in poetry, the cringe-worthy figurative language that cried "TEENAGE ANGST!!" Well, they say we're our own worst critics.

Perhaps that's why the inspiration dried up and I gave up, even extending to this blog.

I thought I was a failure when I was writing things that weren't up to my extremely high standards. Turns out I feel like a bigger failure when I'm sitting around waiting for ideas that won't materialize, or the lack of discipline that causes me to abandon ones that do. No one wins here.

Also, the 'R' key keeps sticking, which disturbs me.

Things Have Happened.

Since it's been an eternity since my last update, of course there would be at least SOMETHING different going on at some point. Otherwise I'd be even more boring (and depressed about it) than I am now. Anywho...since then, I've moved a lot of times. I had my first job, quit my first job (because I moved), got my driver's license, traveled to a few places, and ended up breaking my "no boyfriend ever again" rule. So far that's been going pretty spiffy, if I do say so myself. We've been together for a year-and-a-half and I live with him, thus making my dreams of leaving the Midwest come true. We met through our mutual love of Opeth, which is also pretty damn spiffy. And in another exciting turn of events, we're seeing them (and Katatonia, my favorite band!) together in October. Ah, romance.

So, enough of that gooey sh-show of emotion. Hopefully I won't disappear again for another 2 years. I need the writing practice. Badly.