My Little World

Virtual Slumber Party: Yes, This is Occurring

2010-07-21T17:24:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-19T20:29:00.000-07:00

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

Total Eclipse of the AWESOME

2010-06-09T14:01:00.000-07:00

Hey, there, Internets. How are you? I'm cool. Thanks for not asking me because you can't talk. I haven't posted for a bit. It's not you, Hon, it's me. I've been busy lately. I know. I missed your depressing lack of comments on my numerous blog posts, too. Hugs.

Now, down to business.

So which is better? I personally have a soft spot for the Thai Susan Boyle equivalent, Lin Yu Chun, and the shirt-rippin' outer space love machine that is an elderly Captain James T. Kirk. But then there's Glee (which is basically my new religion). It is a moral dilemma of epic proportions. Kitch versus the man who has earned a much coveted place in my Pantheon of Marriable Albeit Fictional Men (PMAFM), Finn Hudson/Cory Moteith? I may have to perform Japanese ritual suicide over this one. My life is but a drop in the forever flowing rivers of prime time pop culture shenanigans.

Although this video gets an honorable mention:

I have no idea what Only Men Aloud is (I very much hope that it is not some kind of cult with a charismatic lego-fetishist leader, presumably in a greasy wifebeater and possibly named Phil) but it sounds pretty darn BA if you ask me. Please. Please ask me.

Ahhhh, but back to pop culture. I love me some pop culture. If pop culture were a man, he would most definitely be dreamy. I would scribble his name on my notebook. Mrs. Steffi Pop Culture. I scour the interwebs in the hope of finding hilariously horrible little tidbits like the W-Shat video above. Those are what I live for. I wish I could frame that video and hang it over my mantle piece. I am quite proud. I can only pray that I will soon find something on that level of magnificent gaggyness.

I quiver with humbleness at his glorious feet.

Like, for instance, I got a hold of a free Justin Bieber poster the other day and I was all psyched out. But everyone I showed it to with the rapt excitement of a giggling child gave me a look of pure and utter disgust. Don’t they understand that, because of his awkward feminine man-child sexiness, the Biebs is so gross that he’s cool? For GOD’s sake, what is this world coming to when you can’t be free to ironically like lame things without fear of persecution? THIS IS AMERICA, DARNIT.

USA! USA!

Also, this: http://lesbianswholooklikejustinbieber.tumblr.com/page/49

Yes. Now my life is complete, too.

~Steffi

Scout's Honor

2010-04-24T09:10:00.000-07:00

I used to be a Girl Scout. Really. Me. Okay, stop laughing now.

We went camping a few times, once in an aquarium and another time in the actual woods. I know, right? When we got there, me and the girls got very nervous about the whole thing. I mean, there were, like, trees and junk. So for the first part of the day my troop ate through a few bags of marshmallows and watched some DVDs in our troop leaders mini van. Outside the windows we saw soaked, muddy little girls, their tears indistinguishable from the heavenly onslaught. They marched in time, spurred on only by the knowledge that this childhood trauma promised them a colorful new badge to adorn their precious vinyl vests. And yet the cost of the patch was their sense of justice in the world and an empty place that would linger in their hearts for the rest of their lives. Meanwhile we cranked up the movie to drown out their sobs. A few DVDs and a tummy ache later, we were those girls. Suffice it to say I never fully recovered.

What would come to be known as "The Incident" still weighs heavily on my conscience like Vietnam vets get PTSD. The muddy carnage, the zip line (that they hooked me into backwards so I fell 44 feet in the icy cold, unsure of what I was heading towards- pointy branches? Maniacs brandishing boards with rusty nails poking out of them? Potayto potahto...), the mosquito bites and that awesome acorn that I found that looked like a squirrel but then dropped... and most of all the Eddie Murphey movie we watched before it all. It was a dark time that would live on forever in infamy.

Friends don't let friends watch Norbit.

Not surprisinly the highest rank I made it to was Brownie Scout. I got to keep the neat vest, though. It was pretty darn snazzy.

A budding young fashion icon.

The reason I'm reminded of my short stint in the Girl Scouts of America, a cult as secretive and sacred as the Masons (but with moderately less paddling), is that I really have a hankering for a plate of brownies. Not the canibal-y kind, the Betty Crocker kind. Has anybody ever thought of making some and icing them with little patched vests on? Because I think that would be priceless. Go work on that, Internet. I commandeth you lest I send my old Scout buddies to reek sweet chocolate-y vengeance.

From Troop 687. We call her "Rabies Jenny".

Anyway, in other brownie-related news, it has come to my attention that Snoop Dogg was on The Martha Stuart Show. And they made- wait for it- BROWNIES. One can assume that they were very, very special brownies. Hey, why not? Jail changes a woman and Martha is no exception.

Find the recipe here --> http://patrishka.wordpress.com/2009/12/18/snoop-dog-martha-stewart-brownie-recipe/

~Steffi

To Do List

2010-04-03T08:35:00.000-07:00

Okay, so there are a lot of things I want to do with my life. Take over the world with my bloodthirsty band of cyborg minions? Check. But that one's for another day.

Realistically, I have some other stuff I feel the need to accomplish. She writes as she sits on the couch eating chips, still wearing her pajamas and watching the What Not To Wear marathon (and probably getting bedsores from not moving for hours). Mine is a charmed life.

MY TO DO LIST

#1. Be a work of art. Hey, if I can't MAKE it, why can't I BE it? And it's possible! The pictures below are actually real people that were painted on to look two dimensional. All I need to do is kidnap artist Alexa Meade. I... mean... hire... her. Yes... hire...

She can sleep in a bathtub cage (a bathtub with a giant birdcage welded over the top... patent pending). Everybody wins!

#2. Learn to figure skate.

See? No sweat.

Well, okay, the last time I went ice skating I got so many bruises that people thought a big bald guy named Tiny had attacked me with a baseball bat.

They're always named "Tiny".

But it would be so FUN. I mean, like, SO AMAZINGLY FUN. Don't believe me, eh, Internet? That's why I have evidence (I didn't watch Legally Blond thirty-three times to be bested at lawyeringlyness by the likes of you).

EVIDENCE THAT FIGURE SKATING WOULD BE AMAZINGLY FUN:

"Wheee"! + nice lighting scheme = SO MUCH FUN. Thank you, Your Honor... and for my NEXT witness I call a pre nose job Jennifer Grey to the stand...
*

Figure skating would be exactly, EXACTLY like Dirty Dancing. Now, where's Zombie Swayze? And I will require a watermelon, Mr. Bailiff.

It looks so effortless. I could totally do that. Maybe.

Go ahead, Internet. I dare you to tell me that this did not spring to your mind when I brought up the subject. And you know what they had besides crazy shenanigans? SO MUCH FUN.

Plus the costumes are always so glamorous and cute!

With some exceptions.

I rest my case.

#3. Live in a castle.

Although this one is preferred, a hotel could work, too...

A hotel like the four star Clontarf Castle Hotel in Dublin, Ireland, for instance.

Ain't it pretty?
*

This whole princess complex stems from my never getting a canopy bed as a little girl. I never even got a pony (I was quite a deprived child).

And speaking of canopy beds...

#4. Get a fancy shmancy canopy bed (curtain optional but preferred).

#5. Do the Mentos-Diet-Coke-explosion thing. When I do, I've got to get me one of these.

The geyster tube controls it so you won't get all drenched. And now, gratuitous shots of soda explosions!

Awww yeah. That's how we do it, son.

Buy it here --> http://www.firebox.com/product/1797/Steve-Spanglers-Geyser-Tube?currency_conversion=1&aff=512&awc=550_1270268422_336c9dc67ea5da11f19be8ac84e61a39

#6. Buy (or rent) my very own moon bounce.

A Titanic moonbounce!... Too soon?

A-nom-nom-nom-nom.

*
PRINCESS COMPLEX. I think I just found the solution to #3.

#7. Win the Miss World pageant! What? What is wrong with that? I'm beautiful. My Mommy told me so. Even though I have exactly zero pageant experience besides watching (and being mildly disgusted by) Toddlers in Tiaras on the TLC channel... I think I could really pull it off with, like, some duct tape or whatever.

A lot...

...of...

...duct...

...tape.

So! Getting off the subject of my apparent horrible ugliness... the final thing I can think of (actually I can think of way more but this stupid thing has taken a lot of time)... is...

#8. GET ONE OF THESE ADORABLE LITTLE MONKEYS!

It is a necessary expense--maybe even a tax deduction. I will train my monkey to be a wise-cracking crime-fighting sidekick that will help me make the streets of Stefmanistan a safe place for Amish everywhere. That is, until he betrays me and forces me to wreak my revenge on all of mankind (except the Amish. They work so darn hard on those barns, I would feel kinda mean burning them down). And then the world domination plan comes into play, see?

It's times like these that I very greatly wish I had an evil mustache to twiddle.

~Steffi~

In the Pants

2010-04-01T12:12:00.000-07:00

It's kind of a funny word if you say it enough times. "Pants" "PAnts" "paNTS". Go ahead. I'll wait.

For the most part I hate pants. Especially when those pretentious people add "in the pants" after everything (although if you try it, I am sorry to say that it's a pretty fun game). Admittedly, pajama pants are always lovely, and there are a few notable exceptions, but as a whole I am rather racist against the majority of pantsdom. They constrict my legs and are just plain less pretty than skirts and dresses. I am all for feminism and grrrl power and whatnot, but pants always expect special treatment, you know? They're all "Oh, I have two leg holes and a side pocket, look at me, I'm Mr. Fancypants!". If they could talk I am almost positive that is what they would say.

See, pants feel entitled. They think they're better than me. THAT IS WHAT THEY THINK.

I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS. THIS IS AN OUTRAGE. SEE ME? I'M OUTRAGED. OK, SO YOU CAN'T SEE ME THROUGH THE MONITOR. BUT BELIEVE ME, I AM OUTRAGED. I WOULD POST A PICTURE OF THE OUTRAGE IF NOT FOR THE FEAR OF BEING MURDERED IN MY SLEEP BY AN INTERNET STALKER (no offense to all the non-murdering internet stalkers. Far be it for me to fan the flames of stereotyping). THE WHOLE COUNTRY OF STEFMANISTAN IS UP IN ARMS.

Funny story... I won an Amish Village in a game of UNO and decreed it to be named Stefmanistan. Also, there is now Casual Friday there.

I hold you as my witness, Percentage-of-Internet-That-Won't-Murder-Me. I hereby WAGE A WAR ON PANTS. THE PANTS OF THE WORLD ARE GOING DOWN. DOWN TO THE GROUND.

You knew that video was coming.

Not just ANY pants can be fancy pants. Oh no no no no no. You've got to earn that, darn it.

Par exemple.

Speaking of fancy pants, try out one of my favorite flash games. It is so addicting. I apologize in advance for subjecting you to its awesomeness.

http://www.addictinggames.com/fancypantsadventure2.html <--go here

I think that that's all I have to say about my deep hatred of pants. That I hate. So very much. With the white hot fiery passionate intensity of a thousand suns.

Pure low rising evil.

Toodles from Stefmanistan! Wish you were here! All of the internet. Yes. I'll get a very big party bus.

Or a party carriage! Aww. Look how happy the Stefmanistonians are. They work hard and they play hard.

~Steffi~

I Will Marry All of the Cupcakes

2010-03-12T13:16:00.000-08:00

I think I want to marry cupcakes. As in, the collective idea of every cupcake in the entire world. Yes, Internet, even the tapioka kind. It will be a vast, polygamous union and, much like a black widow spider, I will continuously devour my husbands. That is a sacrifice I am willing to make, however.

There's my man. Wait--who's that little hussy?!

As you might have guessed, I am kind of majorly in love with cupcakes. If they were not inanimate blobs of sugar and ganache, I am sure that they would reciprocate the ardor that I feel in my heart, stomach, and for some reason spleen. Which is odd, because I don't even know where my spleen is.

Oh. Okey dokey, then.

Cupcakes, if you haven't heard, are very much in vogue at the moment. Unfortunatey for me, I'm not the best cook. Cereal is my specialty.

"Add one and a half cups of milk and mix well with spoon. Now you have to pretend to be a stern yet benevolent giant who demands a fruit tribute from the itty bitty villagers..." Sigh. Trix just hasn't been the same since they changed the shape to those stupid spherical things. Who eats balls of cereal? WHO?

ANYway, I decided that maybe you could benefit from this wonderful cooking blog I recently became familiar with. This woman is a genius. Plus, even if you're like me and don't cook so good--PRETTY PICTURES OF DESSERTS. Don't pretend that you don't love that.

http://www.joythebaker.com/ <-- go here!

THESE RECIPES ARE ALL THERE. TELL YOUR FRIENDS. THEN THROW CUPCAKES AT THEM. (AIM BETWEEN THE EYES)

I'm so, so sorry, but I could not live with myself if I didn't include this in a cupcake-themed post... forgive me...

You cannot unhear this.

~Steffi~

Zipadeedoodah

2010-03-01T14:15:00.000-08:00

Today I went to a funeral. I cried a lot and now my eyes are all puffy. Suffice it to say, this was not a great day. There is no bluebird on my shoulder and nothing is satisfactual at all. On days like this, when I’m all despondent and sniffly, I get out my secret weapon: Winnie. He’s my Winnie the Pooh teddy bear, although when I was little I could not fathom why anyone would possibly name anything “The Pooh”. So Winnie it is.

Winnie The Pooh is one of my favorite Disney movies. I just plain love Disney, but not that gross new Hannah Montanna Banana Fanna Fo Fanna kind of Disney—I’m talking about the classics. I was very happy with the new animated movie, The Princess and the Frog. I think I liked it just as much as Aladdin or The Little Mermaid or whatever.
The Princess and the Frog had sort of a weak romance, but very nice songs, adorable characters, and gorgeous art. The one who played the lead girl, Tianna, was apparently somebody in Dreamgirls. The only thing that got in the way of the movie’s awesomeness would have to be the fact that for the majority of the film, both male and female leads were amphibians.
It was really an animal love story. But since both animals were humans trapped in animal bodies... does that somehow make it a bestiality thing? Am I right, Internet? Think about that. No matter what he becomes, you have just made out with a frog.
Just sayin’.

Speaking of which, they made such a big deal about the first black Disney princess. And she was black... for like fifteen minutes or so before she turned into a frog. Nice.
I like to rag on Disney, but to be honest, I think if I could live anywhere it would have to be Disneyworld. That place is amazing.
My favorite thing to do in Disneyworld is the Tower of Terror ride. There’s even a video that they show right before the ride starts that has The Twilight Zone’s opening theme.
Watch these or I will go all The Ring on you.

I always have this urge to regress and act like a little kid when I go there.
What? The Bippidy Boppidy Boutique looks fun.

For the time being I will have to content myself with wearing the ears and/or a tiara. And maybe buying a couple of wands.
Light-up wands. Naturally.
My problem is that I get very naïve and start to think that the sweaty big-headed costume people at the parks are really the embodiments of my favorite cartoon characters and so I get, like, five hugs from them until they are probably contemplating a call to security to remove the special needs woman from the premises. “C’mon, lady. Let the Make A Wish kids have a turn-” “In a minute, in a minute!”
Maybe it will make me feel better by talking about why it is so difficult for me to pick a favorite animated Disney movie--they all have something wrong with them that prevents them from being perfect. I already told you about Princess and the Frog. Now, as I do with most everything I love, I will make fun of Disney.
A LIST OF MY DISNEY MOVIE REPETOIR (with commentary)

*Winnie the Pooh:
A very, very cute movie, but slightly depressing when you factor in the whole Toy Story 2 scenario where Christopher Robin will grow up and leave his old buddies behind .

"Narrator: And so we come to the last chapter, in which Pooh and Christopher Robin go to the enchanted part of the forest, and we say goodbye.
Winnie the Pooh: Goodbye? Oh, no please. Can't we just go back to page one and start all over again?
Narrator: Sorry, Pooh, but all stories have an ending, you know.
Winnie the Pooh: Oh, bother." --Did you hear that, kids? Eventually you have to say goodbye to your childhood, get old, and die! Yay!

*Lady and the Tramp:
Not a lot really happens for such a long movie. Adorable, nonetheless. One day I will buy a cocker spaniel and name her "Lady". I totally will.

*The Little Mermaid:
A teenager essentially gives up her family, life, and metaphorical soul (her deal w/ the devil aka Ursula) for a man who still initially doesn’t want much to do with her. But that’s okay! Even if he begrudgingly chooses her over a hotter, evil sea witch! And only when said witch almost eats him. Or something like that (I haven’t seen it in a while).
*The Lion King:
They killed Mufasa. I will never forgive you, Disney. NEVER. I like to rewind the tape and pretend that he gets back up.
*The Hunchback of Notre Dame:
So you find out that no matter how beautiful you are on the inside, the pretty girl will always, ALWAYS choose the hot guy with the abbs and the goatee. Speaking of which, goats kind of frighten me, so strike two right there.

You're welcome for the nightmares.
*Aladdin:
A guy bases his relationship with a woman on lies and she decides to love him anyway because he has that whole lovably impish rascal thing going on. Or maybe she just digs vests. Who am I to say? But can we please TALK about Genie’s hair? Rat. Tail.
*Snow White:
This chick straight up gives me a migraine. What is there even to say about this movie? Stupid broad eats creepy lady’s apple and enters coma, causing many short people to be upset and stop singing jaunty tunes. She waits in a state of near death for a man to save her through sexual harassment. The only upside was when they went all gangta on the queen and pushed her off a cliff. A bit gruesome for a kid’s movie, but I guess it’s still better than the original Grimms' Fairy Tale ending of Cinderella where the happy singing birds peck out the stepsisters’ eyes...
...which brings us to...
*Cinderella:
The parts with Cinderella in it were entertaining and magical and all, but whenever they went to the bits with the king, prince, mice, etc., I started to fall asleep. It has the most underrated songs, though. They are all wonderful and nobody even remembers them except for maybe Bippidy Boppidy Boo, the song you can only hum because the words are so incomprehensible that it is humanly impossible to sing it. It's true. There have been studies.
*Beauty and the Beast:
How can anybody consider this a love story? The guy is a man inside, paws or no paws. He basically keeps Belle as an almost-but-not-quite slave, verbally abuses her, refuses to feed her and all this after kidnapping and close to killing her dear old daddy... and then she realizes that it’s okay because he doesn’t mean to be a controlling jerk and is actually a really nice guy! He does get a little free with his claws when you give him too much catnip, however.

*Alice in Wonderland:
Cute and whimsical, the only thing that bugs me is Alice’s voice. Whine whine whine. She's not a great singer, either. It’s the same one as Wendy in Peter Pan (which I won’t even list because I really don’t like any of the characters or their voices or the art and besides which is boring as well as racist--“What makes the red man red”? Really, guys?).
Disney actually used the same actors a lot. Alice’s chesure cat was Winnie the Pooh (and Amos Mouse in that cute movie, Ben and Me) while the white rabbit was Piglet.
Honorable Mentions: Some great animated non-Disney movies from my childhood include Anastasia (I know! It was actually Warner Bros), The Swan Princess, The Corpse Bride (a tad macabre but technically animated and anything by Tim Burton can’t be bad), various Madeline movies, Peter Rabbit, the Scooby Doo and Alvin and the Chipmonks movies (especially the Halloween ones), Angelina Ballerina, The Scary Godmother, Cats Don’t Dance, any Muppets movie ever (while they were technically bought by Disney, I don't really consider them to be Disney), Olive the Other Reindeer (mod, nouveau art with voice by Drew Barrimore), An American Tail.

I still feel sad. Making fun of Disney didn't really help, and now their secret agents will come in the night and slit my throat. Disney (and Oprah) frequently do that sort of thing, one would imagine.
If I don't get murdered by a sequined assassin of Disney, I wonder if I could rent a wing of the Cinderella castle until the housing market improves. Then I can buy the whole thing. But when I do live at Disneyland, Internet, I will be sure to invite you over for tea. We could drink it in the spinning teacups (athough there might be some scaldings). Maybe, if the mood strikes us, we can have the Snow White actresses battle to the death with pointy magic wand switchblades. They probably have them at the gift shops (they have everything at the gift shops, including sparkly novelty Polio vaccinations). The winner gets Fast Passes to the Rockin’ Roller Coaster.
C'mon, now. You know it's worth a little bloodshed.
~Steffi~

Wanderlust

2010-02-27T08:23:00.000-08:00

When I'm just sitting at home, bored to the point that I have begun tracing the shadows on the walls, I really want to go somewhere. ANYWHERE. And then when I do, it's like, "Meh".

Like now, for instance. I am in New York. New. YORK. Am I ice skating at Rockefeller Center? Shopping in some darling boutique? No. I'm watching curling on TV. Curling. I am not even kidding you.

This is an actual thing that occurs.

I know, Internet. That's what I said, too.

Sometimes I just wish there was someplace to go in my own backyard. Like, let's say I was just walking around in the woods, minding my own business and trying not to get slashed by a rampaging chain saw murderer (which frequently happens in woods or camps or amusement parks or grocery stores--shut up, I am not that paranoid, I swear it happens). So I'm hypothetically walking through a hypothetical woodsy area and I hypothetically come across a hypothetical rabbit hole and hypothetically fall in (which makes sense because of my incredibly non-hypothetical klutziosity) and hypothetically meet a rabbit with a pocket watch and Johnny Depp and some talking flowers and Johnny Depp.

Did I mention Johnny Depp?

C'mon, you just KNOW that crazy shenanigans would ensue. I would ensue the heck out of those shenanigans.

I love Alice in Wonderland, so obviously I am looking forward to the new movie. It comes out around the time of my birthday, too, so I'm all psyched that I can use it as a theme for my party. I've been thinking a lot about it and procrastinating real work looking up awesome party ideas. Here I will teach you how to throw the best Un-Birthday or Un-Un-Birthday (if it really is your birthday) parties ever. Okay? Cool. I knew you'd be excited, Internet. You just GET me like that.

We're like THIS.

So the first thing I would recommend doing would be to read the actual book. Why? It's an amazing read for any age. Alice in Wonderland works as a great bedtime story for little kids, with whimsical pictures and numerous opportunities for funny voices. But adults will find humor in the most unlikely places, as well as a sophisticated allegory for the society of the day. Plus, if you know the back story of how Lewis Carroll was actually sort of a pedo for this real little girl named Alice (on whom he based the story and who he wrote it for) it makes the whole thing much edgier than the occasional toast-and-butter-fly, although there is an opium-smoking caterpillar. At least see the Disney movie, though. It is trés adorable.

http://www.authorama.com/alice-in-wonderland-1.html <-- Here's the whole book online

And here's the movie--->

As for the party, I'm just gonna try to re-create some of these breathtaking examples:

**********

TIPS:

*The trick is to not just have a croquet/ tea party, but to really make a wonderland. As everybody knows, however, enough twinkle lights will solve most any decorating problem.

*I absolutely adore daisies, so I would recommend using them as well as tulips and marigolds, all in vibrant and varying colors, of course.

*Make sure your music is light and airy with a sort of enchanting feel to it. Try Lenka, A Fine Frenzy, Priscilla Ahn, Jason Mraz, Sara Bareilles, Lily Frost, the Cardigans, or maybe the Beatles (their pychedelic stuff, not the teeny bopper fifties rag).

*Jewel tones are very nice, especially in your choice of balloons. And there MUST be balloons, preferably both regular helium-filled latex ones as well as balloon animals. Maybe you could hire somebody to make balloon hats?

"My intricate inflatable head adornments bring all the boys to the yard..."

**********

Alice in Wonderland has also swooped down onto the fashion scene. I can't go into a single store without some kind of Alice themed merchandise glaring up at me with the sad "buy me"

eyes. That's good, though, because the elements of the book are just so marketable. Check it out:

*http://www.claires.com/aliceinfashion-accessories-jewelry.asp

*http://search.hottopic.com/clothing/Alice%20In%20Wonderland

*http://www.seventeen.com/fashion/special/style-blog/alice-in-wonderland-at-bloomingdales

*http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/shop?query=alice+in+wonderland

I know, right? Teeny tiny hats, teapots and playing cards, pocket watches, even a ruff! Did you hear that, Internet? A. RUFF.

**********

Well, that's all I have to say about Alice for the moment. I'll let you know how that party goes. Coming soon: How to make Alice in Wonderland party favors and invitations. Now I gotta go. I'm afraid that "I'm late for a very important date. No time to say hello--goodbye! I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!". Shut up. I'm witty.

~Steffi~

New Beginnings

2010-02-26T21:49:00.000-08:00

"New Beginnings"? That is a lame title for my First Post Ever. I apologize for my lame-ness. Hopefully in time you will come to find it quaint, like mahogany birdhouses and camomile tea.

Yes, just like Peter Rabbit drank.

I've got to tell you, Internet, this has been some day. We had to take a train up to New York for a funeral, and it seemed like the universe had it in for me. Missed bus. Water bottle leaked in bag. Lost hat (and I loved that friggin' thing). Missed another bus. Waited for next one IN THE SNOW. Almost got devoured by army of Abominable Snowmen riding wolves (I swear that was not "just the plow, now stop hyper-ventilating"). On the whole, quite an ordeal.

Can you see the bloodlust in his eyes?

I decided to start this blog because I do new and exciting things every day. Aaand if you know me, you know that I am prone to forgetfulness. And falling. A lot (not the most coordinated person, either). That's why I want to keep track of it all and make it so I won't forget the good stuff. That way, I can read these posts and be all, "Oh yeah! The pudding cannon! Good times...". What? It's still in the planning stages, but I assure you, it will take the world by storm. Just like me. You see, dear Internet, I've got big plans.

Not exactly like that...

For one, I plan on being extremely famous. The thing about fame that people don't seem to realize, though, is that nobody needs to know you to achieve it. Fame is a state of mind. Even if not one single person reads this blog (that word always, ALWAYS makes me giggle)... I will. I will read it. I'll remember things about myself that would have been lost forever in that bottomless chasm of my head. So there's one hit right there. That's famous enough for me. I'll get there one day. I have to believe that. Who knows? Maybe sooner than I think.

~Steffi~