Virtual Slumber Party: Yes, This is Occurring

Okay, this is how it's gonna work: we are gonna have a supah fun and fantabulous virtual slumber party. It'll be just you and me, Entirety of the World's Internet. An intimate affair to say the least. You are right now on the virtual doormat outside of my virtual house. Virtual dusk is swiftly approaching, the smell of virtual freshly cut virtual grass has sweetened the virtual breeze and, on a nearby curb, a sad clown is softly weeping.

Pumpernickel dropped her ice cream, y'see.

Now, after buying the clown another cone and sending her on her relatively merry way because Sad Clowns can never really be happy (do not pity them, it is their lot in life and Pumpernickel is vice president of her support group), you approach my door. It is a nice door. A pretty door. You stroke it and gently whisper sweet nothings into it's varnish. "STOP FONDLING MY DOOR, YA HARPY!" you hear from inside and then I open it and we laugh to hide the evident uncomfortableness.

If only Pumpernickel were here.

So c'mon in! Welcome, welcome. I am going to walk you through this amazing slumber partytacular sleepover extravaganza of spectacular awesomeness. Everything we need will be here but in virtualness. Follow me, Internet, old friend. Just leave your cares (and any candy you might have on you) at the door. Also, do everything I say without question and give me fifty bucks for... pizza. Yes... pizza...

One day I hope to save enough for Madonna's cone bra. I shall hang it above my mantel.

I say we start this slumber partytacular of etc. with a game of TRUTH or DARE. Okay, so I choose... truth. Ok. Go ahead. Ask me ANYTHING. Don't be afraid. Huh. Still not saying anything. WELL IF YOU'RE GONNA BE THAT WAY, I GUESS WE'LL HAVE TO GIVE YOU A DARE. I octuple dog dare you (the bane of all dares, second only to Thor's Dare which involves a hammer, a pound of saurkraut, a wheelbarrow and a complex process that I am just not going to get into right now) to:

1)Rent and don a gorilla costume

2)Painstakingly construct a sparkly fairy tutu (WHILE WEARING THE GORILLA COSTUME) that follows the exacting specifications of the Official Tutu Council of America

3)Once you have discovered (after painfully exhaustive research) that such an organization does not exist, go ahead and found the Official Tutu Council of America OR consult Ms. Julie of wowzzy.com because she is known to be tutu scholar and is currently the holder of a doctorate in Glitter Philosophy with an undergraduate in Pretty Pretty Princess Studies.

4)Wearing your gorilla costume and tutu, apply for Canadian citizenship

5)Having obtained citizenship of Canada, still wearing your ensemble, get me some pancakes with syrup on the side so it doesn't get all soggy

6)Give me my pancakes

7)Watch me eat my pancakes

8)Maybe I'll give you some if you're good

We take our dares very seriously around here. What? What's that? You finally figured out a Truth to ask me? Well, then, I guess I won't have to make you do all that. For now. Ok, yeah, so the answer is yes but ONLY ONCE in a pool filled with strawberry pudding. Yeah, I know. That really IS the only way to school a bruthah in the ancient art of yodel kung fu.

Leiderhosen should only be used in defence.

Now that that's all sorted out... IT'S BREAKDANCING TIME! I have the best segues.

http://www.onemotion.com/flash/breakdance/

*Hint: get rid of the gravity and have the guy flail wildly around. That's how I win ALL my throw down dance battles.

As evidenced by this guy pretending to be Kevin Bacon.

And speaking of priceless '80s cinematic gems, let's get the poppin' corn ready (and also a watermelon for) DIRTY DANCING!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i5YSFO0PwRA&feature=fvw -->Go here, watch all the parts and commence squeals of abject joy.

We love and miss The Swayze.

Since that took so long we'll have to condense all the rest of the iconic sleepover movies we planned to watch into 30 second shorts not minimally involving bunnies.

http://www.angryalien.com/

Bunnies have saved the day once again.

Now just a little ice cream before we go to bed (and we won't even brush our teeth because WE'RE JUST THAT FRIGGIN WILD). Go ahead, take a lick!

Mine is computer monitor flavored.

Oh, yeah, and also SPONTANEOUS SCANTILY CLAD PILLOW FIGHT.

This is what boys think girls do whenever they're not in the room.

So I guess now we can pass out happy, plaque-y, and bopping to the harmonic tempo of the gang violence going on in the alley behind my house. Don't worry, nobody really gets hurt. Pumpernickel keeps them in line.

Besides, they're only snappers.

All in all I think we can agree that we had the time of our life tonight. I'm sorry but that cliché was necessary. Aaaand CUE BIG FINALE JUMP.

~Steffi

The Post Where Steffi is a Debbie Downer

I've missed you, Internet... lots of stuff has been happening lately that prevented me from posting. "What kind of stuff, Steffi?" you might ask, but since you don't I'll tell you anyway. I was going about my usual business--saving quadriplegic orphan puppies from evil terrorist aardvark dictators (they are aardvarks, you see) and all. Also, they give the puppies some puppy biscuits and then TAKE THE BISCUITS AWAY MWAHAHAHA. Curse you, evil terrorist aardvark dictators.

The second most diabolical tater known to man.

But in all seriousness, my grandma died. I don't mean to be funny about this. She was and always will be one of the most important people in my life. It was very, very sudden and I've been kind of a mess ever since. It doesn't help that I'm away from home for the month, thrust into the company of strangers. Don't get me wrong, I've made a ton of friends and I love them but... I just needed to not be surrounded by people. People everywhere, I was flooded with people. People in my room, people in my hallways, people in my life; I was breathing people, vomiting people. It was all just too much. I may have been surrounded by people, but, when I found out what had happened to my grandma, I was completely alone. That was the hardest I have ever cried in my whole life. And I was alone in that crowd. A self-imposed exile, trapped in the cloudy recesses of my head. I locked myself in here and I can't seem to remember how to get out.

I didn't sleep that night and I've had trouble doing so ever since. It's then, in the darkness of the night, that I think about death and love and where my life is going. I think about abject, eternal nothingness. I think about God. I think about my grandma and the things she'll never do. I think about what she did do and how I can ever live up to her. What's the point in doing anything if I can't show her? Then there is a very cold pang in the pit of my stomach. I feel so selfish for that pang because I know that she loved me completely and overwhelmingly--she had me drowning in it--and when somebody who loved you goes away, what does that make you? Who am I now? Where did the love go when she died? Did it die, too? Does that make me less somehow? Where did the wonderful that she saw in me escape to? Was it ever really there at all?

It's Existential Crisis Monkey!

Oh, Existential Crisis Monkey. You so crazy.

So yes. That was just about as deep as I've ever gotten on here. Didn't mean to be a buzzkill, but this blog is about me growing and remembering the stuff I learn along the way, for better or for worse. I am not usually so angsty--I'm generally a fairly upbeat, cheerful person. This is probably the most upset you'll see me here, so don't think it'll all be death metal and un-saving quadriplegic puppies (that means giving them puppy biscuits after having saved them and then TAKING THE BISCUITS AWAY MWAHAHAHA).

Ethical Treatment of Puppies Monkey strongly disapproves.

On a happier note, more "Total Eclipse of the Heart" paraphernalia. Also, because you've been such good sports about my ranting about the endless void of black emptiness that is death, here're some more nifty music videos. You are welcome.

Anyway, next time I will make up for this Debbie Downerness by having a... are you ready? Mentally prepare yourself, here... virtual SLUMBER PARTY!! EEEEEEEEEE I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW, RIGHT?! <--- virtual girlish squeal of joy. Ok, go get your best PJs ready. This is officially ON.

~Steffi