Where Are the Aliens?

 

 

 

Woke up this morning and this is the very first thing I saw on my timeline. That person was immediately removed.

I am SO done with people’s bullshit.

Bombs, guns, executions, terrorist attacks, blood, tears, broken families. The list goes on and on. Leaders around the world say, “This was a great tragedy, let’s pray for the victims and their families.”

FUCK. OFF.

They don’t actually care until it happens to them or their own, and that’s become abundantly clear over the last few years when it comes to ANY political issue, foreign or domestic. We are so cozy, sitting over here in our ivory tower of America. We haven’t dealt with daily suicide bombings, our neighborhoods being destroyed, mass rape and mass murder (except by white men with guns. But shhhhh)

No, what does the average American deal with on a daily basis?

“In other news, Kim Kardashian got another pair of shoes. Kylie Jenner got more lip implants. Kim Davis won’t marry gay people and won’t do her job because God. Buy the Colgate, not the Aquafresh. Justin Bieber pissed in a mop bucket. Buy the Neutrogena, you’ll look younger. If your breath stinks, no one’s going to kiss you. If you look like shit, no one’s going to fuck you.” Welcome, and God bless America.

So what problems do we have?

More than once a month, typically, we have a mass shooting. Schools. Theaters. Shopping malls. But no. We can’t do anything about that because owning weapons of mass destruction is apparently a Constitutional right given to you by people hundreds of years ago when we were colonies fighting a foreign power.
When a white man walks down the street with an AR-15 slung over his shoulder, using his “God-given” right to open carry, you better make a decision quickly as to whether or not he’s a mass murderer. I hope it’s the right choice. People in Colorado a few weeks back made the wrong one, and 3 innocent people were shot dead on the sidewalk.

But go ahead and hoard your guns for whatever murderous gang is going to randomly come into your house to kill your family. Go ahead and open carry into every Starbucks and Walmart in America, waiting for that random person to attack you while you’re shopping or sipping on an iced fucking breve. The rest of us will sit back and hope you have even the slightest knowledge of how to use it. But hey. It is your “Constitutional right.”

“Oh, it’s not a gun problem, it’s a mental health problem.”

THEN STOP FUCKING VOTING FOR REPUBLICANS THAT HAVE GUTTED THE MENTAL HEALTHCARE INDUSTRY.

The Mental Health Systems Act of 1980 was one of President Carter’s final achievements. It dedicated $800 million for the expansion of government services, research and training of professionals to treat the mentally ill. Your beloved Saint Reagan came in and within a month of being sworn in as president, gutted the National Institute of Mental Health, cut the budget, eliminated training, stopped most research and cut services. Republican legislatures and governors across the country continue this trend year after year.

People in this country are so brainwashed by rightwing media that the REAL problem is “big government,” brown people, people on welfare, gays, abortion providers…that they can’t even see the forest for the fucking trees.

“We can’t take care of our veterans, but you want to bring in 200,00 refugees?”

We CAN take care of our veterans, but YOU KEEP VOTING FOR PEOPLE THAT REJECT VETERAN HOUSING, HEALTH AND JOB BILLS! If you took more than 3 minutes and looked up from your goddamn bag of cheese curls and Fox News, you would see this!

YOU. ARE. VOTING. AGAINST. EVERYONE’S. INTERESTS. INCLUDING. YOUR. OWN.

But let’s go ahead and hate people for who they love. Let’s hate people for the particular god they pray to. Let’s hate people for the color of their skin. Let’s hate people for the country in which they were born. Let’s spew ALL of our hate while calling ourselves the “Best country in the world” and bonding over our “Christian principles.” And then next week, let’s all sit down with ALL of our friends and families around a massive meal, and give thanks for all of it while making small talk about the poor brown people are who being massacred by the tens of thousands.

More moderate households will have conversations like:
“Gosh, it’s so sad. But we just can’t risk it.”
“I know! Did you see the toddler that drowned when his boat capsized? So sad.”
“My heart goes out to them, but we just can’t take the risk in America. We don’t know who is going to come in with them.”

I’m willing to bet that most households in America will go:
“Fuck ’em! We just need to bomb them back into the Stone Age.”
“Well, our President is a Muslim. Of course he’s trying to bring them all over here so they can impose Sharia law and kill us all.”
“The only good Muslim is a dead Muslim.”

God Bless America.

I’m sitting in the waiting room of my Dr’s office and CNN is on. After a VERY brief story on how France is taking in 20,000 refugees, even after the attack….it cut to the 10000th re-play of the story on “Justin Bieber’s heartfelt prayer for the friends he lost in the Paris attacks.”

Where the fuck are the aliens?

I want out.

My Experience with The Bunny Game

Very little in the way of cinema renders me speechless. I can’t even remember a time, post-Martyrs, where a film has left me aghast in complete silence, teary-eyed with my hand over my mouth. Well, I now have a new point of reference…although I am not quite sure why. I found it in a 2012 horror film that is currently banned in a lengthy list of countries.

The Bunny Game is an experimental horror film written (and directed) by Adam Rehmeier and Rodleen Getsic. Getsic, a first-time actress, plays a cocaine-addicted prostitute who is introduced to the audience in the first scene in the film: a one-minute close-up of an unsimulated blowjob, complete with the john‘s “finish.” Filmed in black and white, the audience follows the (unnamed) prostitute through a series of scenes where she is brutally assaulted by a john, snorts coke, gives other blowjobs, snorts coke, and ultimately raped and robbed.

The cinematography in the film is absolutely stunning and was the first thing that I noticed. It is obvious that Rehmeier has an incredible eye for photography and this film is a wonderful showcase for it, and the awards this film has won are an absolute testament to it.

After Getsic’s character realizes that she has been robbed, she needs to make money in order to maintain both her habit and motel room. We watch her as she walks around the city, stopping only to urinate in front of an iron gate in another masterful display of photographic framing and the use of black and white.

At this point in the film, the restrictive budget ($13,000) became a little clear. The acting was not bad per se, but we can only watch a prostitute walk along the street with no interaction for so long. Some scenes could have been edited down by a few seconds, and I detected a tiny bit of narcissism behind the camera due to shots being held a bit too long.

The film quickly kicks into gear when a trucker stops his rig and Getsic gets in. Dread immediately set in, as Jeff F. Renfo, or “Hog” as his character is known, is one of the creepiest and most villainous men to have ever graced a screen. He asks Getsic for a fix so they snort coke before he comments on her “long fingers,” licks them and then declines her offer for a $30 blowjob. When he pulls out the chloroform-soaked rag, we know what territory this film will be traveling to.

The Bunny Game is banned in a long list of countries. “Why?“ you may ask. Well, that’s simple. The first scene with the real blowjob was a cue: everything that happens in this movie is real. Her torture, the beatings, and yes….her eventual branding by a hot iron, but we shall get into that momentarily.

The rest of the film is precisely as you would expect. “Hog” drives the truck out into the desert (with the back of it facing a nearby highway) and then chains Getsic to the inside wall. For almost 20 minutes, while Gestic’s character is unconscious, he roughly pulls at her nipples, manually stimulates her, beats her in the face and engages in knife play. Knowing that this was real really did not change my experience. In my mind, it was another female-torture film trying to push the envelope so I did not give it much thought. The meat of the film is her sexual and physical torture over a metal soundtrack with choppy editing almost reminiscent of a strobe light. The only way that I can describe it is that it was a complete assault on the senses. Full disclosure: I have previously watched bits and pieces of this film, but the experiences were such negative ones that I could never finish, not because of the acts being performed, but because of the overall assault on my senses via editing and sound. This is the first viewing that I have had from start-to-finish.

Then comes the branding. Getsic is branded twice with the symbol of the caduceus via a large, hot iron. It is real. It really happened and was done in one take. You can see the grey smoke sizzle from her skin as Hog presses it into her flesh.

The “bunny game” mentioned in the title comes after Hog shaves Getsic’s head and then forces her to wear a white leather bunny head mask. He puts on a black hog mask and then leads her (via leash and collar) into the desert where he parades her around and makes her run. For me, the visual portrayal of “filth” vs. “innocence” by their characters against the black and white was quite stunning.

The game comes to an end when Hog tells her that they are going to pull straws, and if she pulls the long one, she wins. If he does, he wins the game. Watching Getsic’s character crying, laughing and preparing herself to choose her straw caused my eyes to fill with tears. It was so real, and it is so obvious that Getsic, as an actress, was completely giving each and every ounce of herself to that very moment. She wins, and we watch her as she tries, completely naked, to run away. Move over, Jessica Lange. Getsic is Oscar-worthy as she runs through the desert to escape, only to be captured and placed onto a wooden crucifix. She and Hog sit in the sun while she cries and laughs some more. In the next scene, along the side of a different highway, Hog hands her seemingly lifeless body over to a man in a white van, and then the credits roll.

At this point, I was incredibly irritated by the music and editing that I had just endured for 74 minutes. If someone had asked me to rate the film immediately upon my viewing, I would have given it a 4/10, with those 4 points going to the cinematography and the few moments of extraordinary acting by Getsic. Then, I did some research, which I will put in bulleted points.

• The film is based on Getsic’s real-life abduction and events that really happened to her during captivity.
• She co-wrote this film with Adam Rehmeier, and by co-wrote I mean put bulleted points on a page. There was no screenplay or dialogue written. It was completely improvised.
• Getsic used this as a catharsis for her experience, and prepared by fasting for 40 days and constantly meditating on negative energy to put herself back in that space.
• Getsic wanted all of the acts (sans drugs) to be real, including all of the sex acts. She allowed herself to be branded on camera to mark the experience, and gave oral sex to several of her male friends.
• In between breaks in the daily shoot (which lasted 6-10 hours), Getsic requested that she not be removed from the painful chains. She wanted to experience it fully.
• Everything was shot in one take.  Not a single scene was repeated.

After reading these facts and immediately watching a few Q&A’s, I was completely blown away. My voice was cracking while I tried to discuss the film, as I began to realize the level of vulnerability that Getsic allowed herself to reach. It was a literal punch to the gut.

But I have a question.

Without the backstory and explanation, this film has very little in the way of a plot, and I can absolutely understand why many abhor it. With the backstory, it is cinematic genius, and one of the most intensely brave films that I have ever witnessed. How, as someone who reviews and discusses films, do I reconcile this disconnect?

Can a film be considered “good” if it needs an explanation in the opening credits?

Can it be considered “good” if it appears to be little more than pure filth without knowing the original events from which it was founded on?

I have never been so baffled by a film and unable to articulate a precise opinion.

I will not forget The Bunny Game for a very, very long time. Nor will I forget Getsic’s bravery, vulnerability and literal transcendence that she allowed all of us to witness.

For that, and to her, I must say “Thank you.”

Dexter S08E04 Recap: Scar Tissue

Oh, Dexter.  Just when I begin to regain my long-lost interest in you, you have to completely jump the shark.

Last night’s episode, Scar Tissue, continued with Deborah’s downward spiral of hating Dexter and struggling to cope with the fact that she killed LaGuerta, essentially valuing Dexter’s life over an innocent’s.   That’s definitely a cause for some self-reflection.  The first three episodes of the series have done a great job showing her inner-turmoil, and Jennifer Carpenter, in my opinion, has absolutely stolen this season thus far.   In the last episode, episode 3, Deborah went to Miami Metro during a drunken haze and attempted to confess her crimes, but Dexter and Dr. Vogel showed up at just in time to inject her with M-99 and drag her back to Vogel’s home.

Dexter has asked Dr. Vogel to take care of her and try to “make her better.”  I’m not quite sure how Dexter expects Deb to forget putting a bullet in her boss’ brain, but I digress.   While Dexter is researching and checking Vogel’s previous patients off of the potential Brain-Scooping Serial Killer list, Vogel and Deb return to the shipping container where she killed LaGuerta, the bullet hole allowing one bright ray of light into the otherwise dark box.  Now, I have to say that I am fascinated by this dynamic.  Vogel is a world-renowned neuropsychiatrist who specializes in profiling and studying psychopaths.  We have already learned that she and Harry co-created “Harry’s Code,” the series of laws by which Dexter lives and kills.  She seemingly (emphasis on the seemingly part) adores Dexter, and if I had a dime for every time she has creepily said, “Dexter, you’re perfect,” I would be wealthier than Donald fucking Trump.   She’s clearly trying her best to brainwash Deb into believing that Dexter is not only a necessary balance in the world, but also that he is her family and her love/protection is important.  She shows Deb the videos of her meetings with Harry, and a startling revelation is made:  Harry committed suicide after walking in on a teenaged Dexter dismembering a victim that he had just killed.  Dun dun dun….

Apparently, this does not go over very well with Deb.  She goes to Miami Metro and asks Dexter to take a ride so they can talk, and Dexter eagerly agrees.  Cutting to the chase, mid-ride, Deb grabs the steering wheel, says that Harry should have killed Dexter as well, and drives the car right into a lake.

What. The. Fuck?

Ok. I get that Deb has a death wish and believes her brother to be a monster, but seriously?  I guess the actions are somewhat plausible, but it felt completely out of place and bizarre.  It wasn’t an “Oh my god!” moment like Rita’s amazingly emotional death, as I’m assuming it was meant to be. A nearby fisherman saves Deb, and as she sees Dexter sinking with the car, she decides to save him at the very last moment.  Obviously. Dexter isn’t going to die this early in the season, but I find this to be a complete copout of the writers.

So now that that’s out of the way, what else happened?

• In fact, I’m putting my money on it.

• Dexter finally discovers the identity of Mr. Brain Scooper, a former Dr. Vogel patient: AJ Yates.  After seeing a fucked up surgical scar on his head, Dexter confronts Vogel and discovers that she authorized brain surgery for Yates after finding a lesion.  For some reason, she kept this information from Dexter. Why?

• Yates apparently has a PIMP underground lair (like a cross between Saw and The Collector films), and after hacking Yates’ computer, Dexter has a revelation that Vogel is just a master tinkerer and doesn’t give a flying fuck about him, Deb, or anyone else.  She’s been keeping notes on her real thoughts about Dexter, and they aren’t pretty or complementary.  Dexter confronts her about it and more or less tells her that after Yates is dead, he wants her to piss off. She agress, but we all know that people don’t cleanly cut ties with Dexter. They usually end up dead.

• Two new characters are introduced.  Cassie, Dexter’s magical  next door neighbor and one of Jamie’s friends, and Vickie, Masuka’s alleged daughter.  These two introductions are extremely random, but one thing is certain….Dexter rarely introduces meaningless characters.  Cassie appears to likely have nefarious intentions, and I have NO idea what the point of Masuka’s daughter is, but hey. I guess those loose ends will eventually be tied.

So what do you guys think?  Does Vogel have ulterior motives?   Is she actually a psychopath herself?  What’s going to happen between Dexter and Deb?  Is the relationship reparable?

We have eight more episodes to find out.

Sookie Stackhouse: Death of Female Badassery.

True Blood‘s Season 6 premiered last Sunday, June 16th. As expected, we tuned in, but not because we were excited for it to be back. See…True Blood (like Dexter) has become sort of an obligation. We watch it not for the sake of enjoyment, but because we have committed the last five years of our fucking lives to watching a useless little white girl put herself into needless predicaments that happen to involve vampires, faeries, werewolves and witches. It’s like an embarrassing one night stand. It’s great during, but then you wake up horrified in the morning….search for your underwear as stealthily as possible and then sneak out the door hoping that no one sees you. After each episode, I lose a little respect for myself and begin to question my own personal tastes.

 I like the Sookie Stackhouse book series. Why? I can’t even tell you. Charlaine Harris has the writing ability of a…well….there’s nothing that I can say here that wouldn’t offend some sect of people, so we shall move on. Let’s just say that it’s putrid. Putrid writing style, great content. 

The books are narrated in a first person perspective by Sookie, and even though Sookie, as a tv character, is as insipid and as useless as a dirty washcloth, she is far more dynamic in the books. Sookie is the main character and isn’t nearly as superficial and lovelorn as she is portrayed on the show. However minute it may be, there is a sliver of depth to the books that has yet to be translated onto screen. When we read the books, we are inside of Sookie’s mind. We understand why she is constantly smiling nervously, why she always provides such stupid answers to simple questions and scenarios, and yes, why she is torn between Bill and Eric. The alienation that she feels from being able to hear people’s thoughts is an aspect that the show has not properly tackled. The neglect of her inner-turmoil has left us with a blonde actress completely void of any purpose other than to drive the plot and sex scenes that attract the vast majority of the female audience.

Every time Anna Paquin comes on screen, I cringe. Every time she speaks, an angel in Heaven loses its wings and puppies all over the world are simultaneously euthanized. I feel bad, because it’s not Ms. Paquin’s fault. No, it’s the writers. Paquin is one Hell of an actress, and let us not forget that she is the second youngest Oscar winner in history, winning the award in 1994 at age 11 for her role in The Piano. She’s got some chops, and it is a fucking shame that the writers of True Blood have reduced her to the empty pair of shoes that she has become. It pains me to say it, but she is reminiscent of Bella from Twilight. The writers tried so hard to make a character that every woman and girl could relate to that they pushed aside all implausibility and depth. The character works in the books because we know her thought process and reasons for her reactions. On the show, she is so ordinary that it becomes painful to watch. This is the direct and obvious intent of the writers. I can almost imagine a writers meeting during development where they floated around ideas…. “Hey, if it worked for Bella, it can work for Sookie! Let’s make sure that she’s not too pretty and not too powerful. Fuck it, let’s make her goddamn dull. That way, all of the female viewers can TOTALLY relate and imagine themselves caught up in a supernatural threesome! Hur hur hur…. ” In conclusion, that’s exactly what happened, and HBO has been raking in fuck tons of cash ever since.

It seems as though the vampire genre has truly been returning to its Victorian roots as of late, and that is a shame. Long gone are the days of Buffy the Vampire Slayer‘s portrayal of fierce, female baddassery. We have now been left with virginal women who are the damsels in distress, along with the virile, uber-masculine alpha males fighting for or against them. This is what Sookie Stackhouse’s character has been reduced to. The free-thinking, interesting, realistic, self-empowered woman of the Sookie Stackhouse novels has disappeared, and in her place, we have been left with this:

 

True Blood returns tonight at 9pm ET, and unfortunately (and against our better judgment) we will be tuning in.

True Blood‘s Season 6 premiered last Sunday, June 16th. As expected, we tuned in, but not because we were excited for it to be back. See…True Blood (like Dexter) has become sort of an obligation. We watch it not for the sake of enjoyment, but because we have committed the last five years of our fucking lives to watching a useless little white girl put herself into needless predicaments that happen to involve vampires, faeries, werewolves and witches. It’s like an embarrassing one night stand. It’s great during, but then you wake up horrified in the morning….search for your underwear as stealthily as possible and then sneak out the door hoping that no one sees you. After each episode, I lose a little respect for myself and begin to question my own personal tastes.

 I like the Sookie Stackhouse book series. Why? I can’t even tell you. Charlaine Harris has the writing ability of a…well….there’s nothing that I can say here that wouldn’t offend some sect of people, so we shall move on. Let’s just say that it’s putrid. Putrid writing style, great content. 

The books are narrated in a first person perspective by Sookie, and even though Sookie, as a tv character, is as insipid and as useless as a dirty washcloth, she is far more dynamic in the books. Sookie is the main character and isn’t nearly as superficial and lovelorn as she is portrayed on the show. However minute it may be, there is a sliver of depth to the books that has yet to be translated onto screen. When we read the books, we are inside of Sookie’s mind. We understand why she is constantly smiling nervously, why she always provides such stupid answers to simple questions and scenarios, and yes, why she is torn between Bill and Eric. The alienation that she feels from being able to hear people’s thoughts is an aspect that the show has not properly tackled. The neglect of her inner-turmoil has left us with a blonde actress completely void of any purpose other than to drive the plot and sex scenes that attract the vast majority of the female audience.

Every time Anna Paquin comes on screen, I cringe. Every time she speaks, an angel in Heaven loses its wings and puppies all over the world are simultaneously euthanized. I feel bad, because it’s not Ms. Paquin’s fault. No, it’s the writers. Paquin is one Hell of an actress, and let us not forget that she is the second youngest Oscar winner in history, winning the award in 1994 at age 11 for her role in The Piano. She’s got some chops, and it is a fucking shame that the writers of True Blood have reduced her to the empty pair of shoes that she has become. It pains me to say it, but she is reminiscent of Bella from Twilight. The writers tried so hard to make a character that every woman and girl could relate to that they pushed aside all implausibility and depth. The character works in the books because we know her thought process and reasons for her reactions. On the show, she is so ordinary that it becomes painful to watch. This is the direct and obvious intent of the writers. I can almost imagine a writers meeting during development where they floated around ideas…. “Hey, if it worked for Bella, it can work for Sookie! Let’s make sure that she’s not too pretty and not too powerful. Fuck it, let’s make her goddamn dull. That way, all of the female viewers can TOTALLY relate and imagine themselves caught up in a supernatural threesome! Hur hur hur…. ” In conclusion, that’s exactly what happened, and HBO has been raking in fuck tons of cash ever since.

It seems as though the vampire genre has truly been returning to its Victorian roots as of late, and that is a shame. Long gone are the days of Buffy the Vampire Slayer‘s portrayal of fierce, female baddassery. We have now been left with virginal women who are the damsels in distress, along with the virile, uber-masculine alpha males fighting for or against them. This is what Sookie Stackhouse’s character has been reduced to. The free-thinking, interesting, realistic, self-empowered woman of the Sookie Stackhouse novels has disappeared, and in her place, we have been left with this:

 

True Blood returns tonight at 9pm ET, and unfortunately (and against our better judgment) we will be tuning in.

– See more at: http://www.allhorror.net/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=2910&catid=18&Itemid=124#sthash.lunnNNcJ.dpuf

So this happened today.

DIY Dog Bed Frame & Pillow for $50 or less!

DIY Dog Bed Frame & Pillow!

So this was our latest home project. The size of this bed is 5′ x 3′. You can make this any size you want, really. I’m sure you’re wondering why we built such a huge bed. No, we don’t own a Great Dane, pig or small pony. We do have 4 Labradors and a small terrier who love to cuddle, though. I’m sure you can only imagine what 4 dogs trying to find space to cuddle looks like. Usually they can find space for 2…maybe 3. There is always a 4th one left out. Can’t picture it? Here let me illustrate that for you…

They will cuddle in the closet…

Or take over the couch…

And when they run out of space…even the laundry basket isn’t off limits.

But sometimes there is that coveted moment all to themselves…

Given this cuddle space issue, we thought that we would try to buy a large dog bed. Yeah…not so much. A large dog bed is ungodly expensive and it still leaves that “space for 4″ issue. The holidays are here now and family is coming to visit, which only makes that space for 4 dogs issue even harder. Don’t get me wrong though….I’d rather that some of these relatives sleep in the laundry basket…but I guess that doesn’t go along with the ‘holiday spirit’ theme, now does it?

So we ventured out to the Home Depot land and bought ourselves some lumber. We knew the sizes we needed so once we picked out the pine lumber the HD crew cut them to our specifications. We needed the following:

x3 – 5′ pieces (2″ x 6″ planks)

x4 – 3′ pieces (2″ x 6″ planks)

x4 – 15″ pieces (2″ x 2″ post)

1 quart of stain

1 brush

1 box of 1  5/8″ screws (you need about 30 screws)

That all costs about $25 depending on your choices. Bring it home and assemble from there! The front is one 5′ plank. The back is two 5′ planks. Each side is two 3′ planks. Make sure you pre-drill the holes before you drill in the screws for you newbies to working with wood this size. Once you assemble the bottom frame, screw in your posts so you can attach the top frame. That’s it! You can stain it from there!

The bed was a cinch as well. Buy 7 of the $2.50 pillows at Walmart (if you can stand going near there), needle, thread, a 36” zipper, and 4 yards of fabric. I bought $1/yard fabric for the bottom and splurged on the top at $5 a yard for that particular pattern. If you use two different fabrics you only need 2 yards of each. Otherwise just buy 4 yards of the same fabric. I cut the top and bottom panels down to 40 inches x 64 inches. Pin it and stitch the 3 edges. Do this with the fabric inside out so you can hide the stitching once it is right side in. The 4th edge is for the zipper. I would give you sewing lessons but it may be easier to Youtube a video or Google it.

As for the pillows…overlap them a little bit and stitch them together. Lay 4 out vertically and 3 horizontally across the top.  This website can walk you through that. I chose to do the zipper instead of the pocket method for no real reason other than wanting to learn how to attach a zipper. You can do this like a pillow sham as well if you like. That link will help you with that too. This person had a handy sewing machine. I hand stitched this entire thing…I am not ashamed! I must confess that I did feel and look a little like Betsy Ross.

Treat this like a recipe. Cut it in half to the size you want or double it. But if you have to double it consider purchasing a small barn…seriously.

So there you go. The whole thing cost us less than $50. I imagine it would normally cost hundred of dollars if you bought all of this already made. The end result? …

Four very happy pups…oh and room for the in-laws this holiday season!

{Insert snarky ‘Welcome!’ title of debatable quality}

Hello, everyone. Welcome to Abaddon, your one-stop shop for all musings of an overly-opinionated, liberal, gamer girl who is barely hanging on to the the last shred of her late 20s.  I love what you’re wearing, by the way. That color really brings out your eyes.

I created this little space on the web because…well…let’s face it. I’m an opinionated bitch.  I live and breathe politics and don’t understand how most people are so apathetic.   You can usually find snarky political rants or posts on Facebook, and that is part of the reason why this blog was created.

Coffee is my major addiction, and if coffee IVs were available, I would have one slapped into a vein faster than a one-legged cat trying to bury a turd on a ferris wheel.  You think I’m joking.

I am the proud Mom of three Labradors (Yes, one of each color. How’s THAT for fully accessorizing?  Boo-yah!) and a Rat Terrier.   They are my children, and if you disagree or say otherwise, you will be exiled.  Please refer to the “House Rules” list that is posted on my fridge before visiting my home. Seriously, it may save your life.

I love film and have had a blast doing AllHorror.net over the last few years.  Horror films are my absolute favorite, so expect a fair amount of reviews or all-out rants when I see one.   Martyrs is my favorite film of all time.  Seriously. Best film ever made. No, really. Hands down. I also enjoy the classics and seem to really be getting into French film.

Speaking of French, I am in my final two semesters of college. I already have a degree in Political Science, but I quickly realized that I have no interest in playing the political game of Law.  I’m also fairly lazy and hate dressing up, two qualities that aren’t really complementary with being an attorney. Here I am, 28 years old, not knowing what I want to do with my life. I say that’s A-OK.  What will I do with a French degree? I have no idea…but I FUCKING LOVE wine, bread and cheese.   Every time I’ve been, I’ve gained 20+ pounds. I seriously hope they have a Jenny Craig in Paris.

Like most people, I can’t live without music.  I will forever and always be stuck in the 90s. Letters to Cleo, Veruca Salt, The Sundays, Bjork, Tori Amos, Save Ferris.  I would sell my soul to Satan for any of the above to start touring again.  (Save Bjork. She knew a good thing when she saw it and will be around until she’s a tiny, shriveled up old Icelandic woman sitting in some hot spring jamming to beats).  The first time I heard Veruca Salt’s “Volcano Girls” on the radio, I was hooked.  When the video made it to MTV, and I saw Louise Post shredding the solo, I fell in love…a deep, burning love that will perpetually keep me devastated because everyone from that scene has either broken up or OD’d.

I LOVE gaming! Skyrim, Madden, Call of Duty, Fable, shooters, RPG’s, whatever.  I have an Xbox 360 and a PS3, so if you are on either, I am LadyofHorror on XBox, and ARRRobin on PSN.

That’s me in a nutshell.  I plan to use this blog as an outlet for different musings and thoughts that I can’t spew out on friends, family and Facebookians.  God knows there are plenty of them.