The [se]X-files

The X-files was an important aspect of my middle school and early high school life. Phrases like, "hantavirus", "inoperable tumor" and "well manicured man" were  all mine for the plagiarism! While some girls were eye-banging JTT and Aaron Cartrer, I was praying  David Duchovny would surface as a sex addict. Thanks, God. I always wanted to believe!

The news just keeps getting better.

For the uninitiated the X-files was a show about a brilliant investigator, Fox Mulder with the FBI who used the clout he gained in the violent crimes division to begin investigating cases that were closed or deemed unsolvable.  His motivations were personal as he had witnessed his younger sister be removed from their home by some sinister suited men. Her abduction was treated as a death among family members and no resolution was granted him. Agent Scully was initially partnered with Mulder to report back to their immediate supervisor, bringing her medical background to bear on his whimsical ways and find logical explanations for the cases otherwise deemed unexplainable.
There were the rando monster-of-the-week and then there were plot episodes. The plot arc amounted to either; his sister was traded to a program for testing, or as precious cargo collateral, OR, was some kind of clone which then a bounty hunter would try to kill and a Russian agent (who was sometimes also a clone) would pretend to have information about just before a spaceship or a storage container full of humanoid, vaccinated, corps surfaced somewhere the agents happened to be.  Let's see then uhhhhh, Mulder gets his ass kicked a bunch--totally takes it like a boss and then uh, Scully sees some shit that should really change her mind about the paranormal--but doesn't--even though she's apparently a devote catholic. Plus this other guy who smoked cigarettes might be Mulder's biological father but was clearly just Canadian and Scully's brother was in the Navy and that was important somehow and she also gets cancer. I don't know. I never rewatch those episodes.
The monster of the week ones would probably scare you today. Dude, one guy removes livers with his hands and hibernates for years in a nest of newspaper and bile. Another dude was just a huge tapeworm...There were cockroaches, once. Tons of them.

Most people learned that FEMA was a raw deal in 2005. But back in 1998 Alvin Kurtzweil let me know there was some other shit going on.

Watch the video, friends--watch the video and learn. These were the sort of notions that compelled me to get a Pink Floyd, Mother Should I Trust The Government poster to hang in the room, above the shelf where I stored my tobacco pipes and tobacco pipe paraphernalia.

Plus my obsession grew into the greatest art I was capable of making:

I created this while serving a three day in school suspension for being awesome.

If you can't rationalize your drug use, it's time to give it up.

I want to make love to his haircut.

I believe I copied this image from a TV guide, to the best of my abilities.

I figure it was probably completely normal to dedicate whole pages of your journal to drawings of a man twice your age. I mean, it's not like I could put blink 182 lyrics on every leaf.

Holy crap, I was deep. And apparently couldn't spell the word "wrong" until after freshman year.

Don't worry, I made room for Ben Fold five lyrics too. But the X-files gave me a reason to never do my homework on Sunday night. (Read as, at all.)

Wow, it's like you can almost read my handwriting. 

Before I completely understood sex, I had this fantasy where I would somehow win a contest and get to spend time with David Duchovny. There would be a limo and he would ride along with me and the romantic part was that I would share my headphones so we could listen to the same song.

Exactly like this, but way less hot.

In fact, an early rendition of said fantasy involved me listening to the music and singing/rapping it back to him....I think I was really into the Men in Black sound track at the time. Obviously, I was well adjusted and would clearly lose my virginity before college. Or not.

When you ask yourself why would anybody be an X-file fan, you next need to ask yourself what the acronym for 'Extraterrestrial Biological Entity' is. And why you wouldn't have known what it meant if I simply wrote it, eg--EBE.
You must next ask yourself how many nebulae you can name. If you can't even name the hoursehead nebula, then you would have never been able to impress my father-in-law that one time when a book he was reading randomly opened to an image of it.

Correct, that is the horsehead nebula. You may now marry my son.

I really miss the Thanksgiving  X-files  User's Choice Marathon. It made my family so much more tolerable. Observe, le rage:

Hats off to my little brother, he learned to wash his hands on his own.



And hats off to me, as I  also learned that it's possible to have the kind of romance that doesn't cause someone to breach their work contract. But, it took years of unlearning the X-files to get there. See you when you get there?

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A garden state of mind

You know how I'm always talking about how I would punch myself in the face for this or that. Well guess who has a black eye?
Yeah, it's awesome.
This isn't my first one. My first B-eye, as I like to call it, came to me in college. I was home for Christmas break and I was really tired depressed and didn't want to go to this stupid family event that, basically no one wanted to go to. My older sister was left in charge of getting me and my two younger siblings to come and I was a mega bitch about getting up and going. Sleep, I love you man. But you get me into a lot of trouble, you know? I forgive you and all a that shit. But for real though, you is not muh fren. 
Long story short I got into a fist fight with one of my older sisters. It was surreal. I've been in plenty of fights before but I had seen my older brother smash her up when I was a kid so to be in the same room fighting with her was really tripping me out. I have a bit of the writer's detachment about me, you may have noticed. And I didn't hit her like at all until the very end,  until that point I was captain deflect-a-blow. But for some reason I just decided to hit her back and I punched her  four times in the face. I screamed, "I don't want to fight you!" and then I did a little dance, jabbed and jibbed, huffed and puffed and found myself thinking, shit--boxers really have to get their cardeo up and Rambo'in.
Respect.
That's when the detachement set in. I remember staring at the kitchen clock narrating in my head, and that's when I realized I had just punched my sister in the same room as---
-but at this point she starts talking over my aside and she's all, "Got a few good ones in, didn'tcha?"
Then she fucking punched me dead in my eye.
I saw stars.
I talked to my mom on the phone and she told me to leave town. So I hopped in the car with my band mate and we drove to Boston. My face was crazy. Blood swam across my eye like the way oil always does in the X-files when bitches be clones or whatever. And I interrupted my best friends on an acid trip. They were pretty freaked out.
I had called the cops before I left and said I wanted to press charges. I had changed my mind since the drive to Boston but they cops had their own agenda and even though I wrote and faxed a letter they wouldn't let me.
We didn't talk for ages. Now we're cool. Time takes time. Family is family. I love her and she's the funniest fucking person I know.  It was strange though because that was the term they made me a hall advisor. I had to go back to college and meet everyone's parents with a bashed up face like, hi, I'm the one they put in charge of your 18 year old, any questions?

Anyway, this is a lot less interesting.
I got hit in the face with a flying elbow. No one will ever believe that this could be an accident so I felt compelled to write about it.

In less related matters, I  just saw the Garden State. I've decided I really hate films about people's lives when they're not funny. Real life is sad and fucked up enough. I know enough dead people that I don't need to watch a film to feel something or to be moved. Stop making me! This is a warning to the whole blogging community.
If you ever want to watch a movie with me, and I don't need to dull my sense of perception with two or three beers, I don't want to see it.
Simple.
Dead out, if it isn't slapstick and predictable and contains no lines that will ever end up on a tee shirt, keep it movin--yer wasting my time. That being said, great sound track. Fuckin best thing to come out of Jersey, ever.
Just downloaded this song. I basically love this particular type of Youtube video. To think that a person spent hours in front of their computer arranging stock images and sifting through fonts.  It's almost more than I can take...BEER ME!

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Karaoke Cum Swap

 Remember when you first got into cum swapping and it was all you wanted to do? Well that's how I feel about this monthly Karaoke Blog swap we have going over on 20 something Bloggers, you can find my video montage and horrible song choice over here on Bianca's Blog: Bianca and the B-sides. Seriously, who doesn't love B-sides?

Speaking of things to love, we've got our swapper to introduce. She hails from San Fran and her blog is hella rad and innovative because she shares it with her partner and they both give their versions of events. (Kinda like the Vampire episode of the X-files) So go ahead and check out How to Survive Love: The Whole Truth, when you get a chance! 

Thanks, Erin! And thanks to all of Erin's devoted followers that are going to take the time to listen to me sing the last song you will ever hear until you decide you've had enough and want to rip off your ears. 

Well, I hope it's not that bad. You may, however, get that same feeling of motion sickness that you got when you watched Paranormal Activity. I was only trying to show you my gadgets and gizmos a-plenty, but I may have spun around too many times. I should probably explain what you are about to watch. 

I began this week with the full intent of singing I Can Hear the Bells from Hairspray. I even rehearsed and practiced it a few times. However, right before I was about to record the video, a light bulb of amazing went off when I realized The Little Mermaid was my true calling. My eyes widened, I jumped up, gave a shriek of excitement and began dancing and singing to Part of Your World. This was the song of my life childhood. I LOVE this movie. Oh, Ariel. I wanted to be her. I wanted her hair! I would sing this song in the shower and act it out. Yes, I really did that. Don't dare say this isn't a show tune! It's a

Broadway musical now, and that's all the justification I needed. So here it is...with an added bonus clip to show you how nervous that I was to begin the karaoke process. And if you want to check out December's blogger of the month, the real Mandy Moore gettin' her sing-on, hop on over to my blog.
Enjoy!

 

If your interested in participating in next month's Swap let our favorite cussy hussy know.  Try not to mention that she looks like a trucker lesbian in her video...she's kind of sensitive...

XO

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