I Love Nerdy White Boys

I LOVE NERDY WHITE BOYS.

Not the least of which is Tobuscus (or Toby Turner for the real world).

Revel in the adorable nerdy-ness. Also, the tie.

Heads up, this entire post is going to be a love letter to Tobuscus, so if you don't want to read my admiration for a nerdy YouTuber, then you should probably stop reading.

But on to the topic at hand: Tobuscus is probably one of the funniest people on YouTube. From his usual "Hellloooo, Audience," greeting, to his myriad of spoofs, he makes me giggle every time I watch one of his videos. And believe me, I've seen a lot.

Tobuscus, first and foremost, is a nerd. His probably most well known for his literal trailers, often of games, like his recent Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood spoof. Sometimes, he'll throw in delightful nerd movies, too, like his Harry Potter trailer. Not only are they hilarious, but the audience is treated to two minutes of Toby Turner singing in each one.

And then there's his random vloggity-type things... where Toby is just ADD enough to hold my ADD attention span. Like this one:



Or his Farmville parody. Which I can't even describe. Just watch it people. Watch it.



And his hair. Sigh... Maybe I should finish this post, make it more substantial. But honestly, reader? I think I'm going to go watch Tobuscus videos instead. And so should you.

The Lazy Girl's Halloween Costume Guide

Some girls live for Halloween. You can tell. It's that glorious time of the year when they can wear even shorter skirts and even more cleavagey tops than usual.

Halloween: the only time of year the word "sexy" can be used to describe Spongebob.

And some girls don't. Some girls tend to forget that they should get a Halloween costume until the afternoon before the party when their girlfriends call and say, "Hey! Get dressed up! We're going out tonight!" and then it's only thirty minutes until they have to show up dressed as something witty, amusing, sexy, or scary.

Well fear not, Lazy Girl! I too am a procrastinator (example A: it's been a month since I posted...) and I have your easy solution to how to throw together the perfect ANYTHING costume. It's three simple steps:

1. Look in your closet. Pick out the most interesting article of clothing and decide on what the costume could be. This year, I had a lime green mini dress. Who wears green dresses? Tinkerbell!

2. Add some accessories. Last year, I paired a red beret with a scarf and a black-and-white striped shirt. Instant Frenchman!

3. Do the makeup. This is perhaps the most important. Last year, my Frenchman costume was completed with a curly mustache drawn on in eyeliner pencil, and just between you and me, the boys found it IRRESISTIBLE.

You're welcome. Now go party!

The Toothy Truth

When I first noticed the trailer for the new film, "Let Me In" I thought, "Oh no, not another vampire romance. The kids in these films are getting younger and younger. What are they, twelve? Or am I just getting older???"

A snowy romance. This has all the makings of a preteen vampire romance.

Watching the trailer, however, I was soon pleasantly surprised. I mean, sure the trailer starts out in a small town vaguely reminiscent of Stephenie Meyer's books, but this hamlet soon proves to be vastly different from Cutlery, Washington. Sure, there are vampires, but they aren't the dominating cool kids at the local high school.

Instead, from what I've gleaned, little girl vampire's vampire father seems to enjoy strangling people in their cars while wearing a black garbage bag on his head to hide his identity. See for yourself:



The best part comes when little vampire girl (played by Chloe Moretz) proves that she is not a vegan softie and lures a guy into a storm drain only to viciously devour him. This is not altogether surprising, seeing as Chloe Moretz has a reputation for being a violent killer. Still, I give her props for not subsisting on synthetic blood alone, like the vampires in a certain romantic television series.

Also, little vampire girl is far creepier and less annoying than R Pattz.

Oh no, "Let Me In" does not look like another vampire love fantasy à la "Twilight" or "The Vampire Diaries." Perhaps we are witnessing the return to a realistic stance on vampires: they are a bloodsucking soulless menace. They are not made for taking baths with, or even having an abusive, obsessive relationship. "Let Me In" is most likely a cautionary tale about the danger of falling in love with a vampire, because more often than not, she will eat your heart.

I already know I like this movie. And I haven't even seen it yet.

Gangster Gospel

Hey, internet, what do you get when you cross 90s rap with Jesus?

No, this isn't a bad joke. Stop giving me that look. It's a serious query. Well, more like mildly serious rhetorical question.

Give up?

The Gospel of Marky Mark!

Gospel According to Marky Mark by jazzparade on Polyvore.com

In an entirely unusual stroke of genius, I (accompanied by my roomie and fearless adventure-buddy) have started a blog that is entirely the Gospel of Mark translated into 90s rap euphemisms, mostly inspired by the iconic classic "Good Vibrations" by Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch.

Right now, we've got the first eight verses posted, though there's more to come. Give us time. Translating from biblical to gangsta is just a little challenging for a bookish white girl.

If you did come expecting poor jokes though, I do have a few:

What do you call a psychic midget escaped from jail? A small medium at large!
What do you call a bison with no friends? A buffaloner!
What do you call a guy with no arms and no legs in a garden? Herb!

My Miley Epiphany

I HAVE COME TO A REVELATION IN MY LIFE.

This is not just any revelation. This is not a "Oh, I prefer peanut butter cup ice cream to fudge ripple ice cream," kind of revelation. This is not a "Gee, I think I'm in love with Jimmy," kind of revelation. No, this is much more important, because it is a Miley Cyrus revelation.

Up until now, all I have known was that I disliked Miley Cyrus, but why? That, I couldn't explain. Oh, sure, I could provide weak replies when queried by fanatic eight-year-olds as to why I wasn't nuts for their favorite Disney star. The usual:

• Watching the acting in Hannah Montana is punishment.
  
• Her wig change is preposterous. Is anyone even fooled by this? It's worse than Superman's glasses. Seriously.
• Miley is not a name.
• Her music is mediocre. With the exception of Party in the USA, which she wasn't even supposed to sing originally. Nor did she understand it.
• Lately, not only is her music mediocre, but she's stopped wearing clothes and I'm pretty sure she's trying to be the underage Gaga. It has not improved her music. (Still, I can respect a naked girl, but...)
  
• Her father's chin triangle scares me. Granted, this isn't her fault, but she has the power to do something about it.

But it wasn't until yesterday that the real reason for my emnity hit me while scrolling through the profile pics on her Facebook page: her lips. MILEY CYRUS HAS DUCK LIPS.

Even without clothes on, the same pout is undeniable. As if she's trying to be sexy, and just looks like a mallard.


Once this occurred to me, I was greatly relieved. No longer will I stay awake at night, wondering just what it is about the teen pop star that disturbs me so. And now I can enjoy Party in the USA in peace. Because, let's face it, that song is catchy.

No Babies Were Sacrificed In the Viewing of This Film

Oh yes, Internet. The long-awaited movie-going has come to pass, and as of last Thursday, I, accompanied by a small posse of younger boys, went to see "Scott Pilgrim vs. the World." For a full idea of general plot and actors and background, you can check my previous blog post on the subject. I refuse to recap that all. Lord knows my last post was too long.

Instead, I will provide you with an idea of whether or not the movie was good:

It was amazing! AND I DIDN'T EVEN HAVE TO CHOP ANYONE'S ARM OFF!

Excellent movie achieved!

You know that whole, "Oooh, it's sort of video-game-themed!" thing? Well, it turns out the entire movie was entirely set in a sort of video game alternate reality, complete with foes bursting into coins when defeated. The characters seemed at once blithely unaware of the weirdness, and at the same time, completely taken aback by it, like when Scott Pilgrim (main character) expresses shock that he must battle his new girlfriend's exes, and yet no surprise at the concept of battling through song. Or, you know, the fact that a "Pee Bar" appears when he uses the bathroom to show how much he needs to urinate.

I'm not sure if this would be useful or annoying. I guess it depends on whether someone was watching you pee.

My brother, who was a member of the gaggle of younger boys, had already been to see the movie once, and invited me to see it for the sole purpose of watching it again. And he said as he left the theater that he would like to see it once more before it comes out on DVD. Which is impressive, considering tickets now cost $10.50.

The movie does slow down a bit near the end, but overall, it's hilarious, with literally one laugh right after another, so much so that you run the risk of asphyxiating on your own laughter. I'm not going to say anymore a) because I don't want to give anything away, and b) because I want you to quit wasting time and GO SEE IT RIGHT NOW.

I mean it.

Go.

The American/Swedish Film Outrage

A little over a year ago, I was staying with some friends in France when a really fascinating movie came out. It was called, "Les Hommes qui n'amaient pas les femmes," or, in English, "The men who disliked women."

The French edition of the novel.

It was based on a Swedish novel, about a journalist-turned-detective convicted of libel, a murder that occurred forty years ago, and a tattooed and eccentric punk chick who helps him solve the mystery.

Tell me that doesn't look badass.

Perhaps the plot sounds familiar? In English, it's called "The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo" and is the first in a trilogy based around Lisbeth Salander (the aforementioned punk chick, and the girl with the dragon tattoo, as you might have guessed). All three books were written by Stieg Larsson, who died somewhat mysteriously of heart issues shortly after turning in the manuscripts for all three books.

Now, the movie I saw was so good, I went out and bought the book soon after, and discovered that the movie had not only been done fabulously, and remained extremely faithful to the original story, but had also done nothing to spoil the novel for potential readers. Stieg Larsson writes with an amount of detailed research that reveals his journalist background, and with such an imagination that it's hard to predict what will happen on the next page.

The American edition of the novel.

But enough about my love of the books. The important thing here is the movie: All three books have now been transformed into movies, starring the talented and gorgeous Noomi Rapace as Salander. The first two movies have been released in the US, and are shown in indie theaters all across the country (there's one down my street doing a double feature, currently).

Noomi Rapace as Salander.

So I was shocked when I saw some announcement online saying that some girl named Rooney Mara would be playing Salander in a "Girl With the Dragon Tattoo" movie.

"What?" I said. "They got the name wrong. It's Noomi. Rapace. And on top of that, it's not that she WILL BE. She already has! The movies have been filmed! They're brilliant!"

Upon reading the article, I discovered that Sony has decided to make their own American version of the film. Complete with American actors. Oh, sure, they'll keep it authentic. It's going to be filmed in Sweden. And the actors are supposed to have Swedish accents. But that's not the same as the real deal. The Swedish films were excellent pieces of work that payed great credit to the author, done in the original language. And this American film promises to be a blockbuster knock-off full of explosions and beautiful people. (I love you and your body, Daniel Craig, but no amount of lip pouting and smoldering on-screen gazes will make this better)

So here it is: I'm disappointed in Hollywood. All of Hollywood. I loved the movie. I loved the book. And I'm guessing this movie will make loads more money than the original did. And this new girl could be quite talented, but when it comes down to it, they're only taking attention away from the filmmakers that deserve it.

Celebrity Connections!

I'll confess: I like to play association games. Like when my family would play the Name Game on long car rides. Someone would start with a celebrity's name, then we'd have to follow with the name of a famous person whose first name started with the first letter of the preceding person's last name. Complicated? Here's an example:

Dad: Humphrey Bogart.

Mom: Bernadette Peters.

Me: Peter Jackson.

My brother: James Taylor.

My other brother: *gets distracted because he's ADD*

Our parents didn't believe in portable DVD players, so instead we got books like this.

But anyway, you get the point. So now I've found a new game to occupy my time, and it's all thanks to the website Who's Dated Who?

Yes, it is shameless celebrity gossip, but I find myself typing in celebrities at random and clicking from girlfriend to boyfriend trying to get back to the original celebrity, without retracing my steps. It's like an intricate, digital tabloid maze. For instance, I just went from Angelina Jolie to Brad Pitt to Jennifer Aniston to Gerard Butler to Rosario Dawson to Colin Farrell all the way back to Angelina Jolie.

Okay, I know Brangelina was an easy connection, but I had no idea Gerard Butler and Rosario Dawson had had a thing!

I'm performing my own six degrees of separation demonstration, only it's more like six diseases of sexual transmission. Who knows if these celebrities are smart enough to use protection.

I Would Give the Right Arm of My Firstborn Child to See Scott Pilgrim vs. The World

It's very simple, really. Ever since I saw the trailer for Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, I've been dying to see it. The movie is based on the comic "Scott Pilgrim" by Bryan Lee O'Malley, (which has just jumped to the top of my summer reading list) and looks chock-full of comic book references and over-the-top action scenes, paired with some witty repartee.

The plot, from what I have gleaned, is thus: Scott Pilgrim (played by Michael Cera) falls for this girl named Ramona V. Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), and must defeat her seven evil exes.


Usually, I don't hear about movies until they're already out on dvd (so I'm behind the curve, so what) so the amount of anguish I am currently suffering waiting for the movie to be released is killing me. I've considered putting myself in a coma until August 13th (the release date) just so I wouldn't have to wait another month and a half to see it, but that seems a little extreme. Also, there's a chance I might not come out of the coma in time to see the movie.

Why am I so obsessed, you may ask? It's simple. I'll make a list for you so it's easy to follow along.

1. The crazy nerd style. You may not know this, but I was a bit of an anime/manga nerd for some time, and from what I've seen, this movie draws heavy inspiration from that. Also, there's some great video game references, another nerd passion of mine. The trailer says "It's on like Donkey Kong." You better believe the people who made this movie are cool.
2. The amusing dialogue. Example: "Wait, we're fighting over Ramona?" "Didn't you get my email explaining the situation?" "I skimmed it..."
3. It's from the director of Hot Fuzz and Shaun of the Dead, which goes back to point #1: the people who made this movie are seriously cool.
4. "If you want something bad you have to fight for it. Step up your game, Scott. Break out the L word." "Lesbian?" "The other L word." "Lesbians?"
   
5. Michael Cera's drawings.

"Have you seen this one girl with hair like this?"

Yeah, so, when August 13th rolls around, you best believe I'm going to be at the front of that line to watch a wimpy Michael Cera kick the asses of six evil ex-boyfriends (and one ex-girlfriend, from what I've gathered from the trailer).

"Lesbians???"

And if you don't get it yet that this movie will most likely be the greatest thing since Nutella, just watch the trailer already!

The Dogg and I

Well, internet, I have walked through fire and come out unscathed. That's right, last night was the much-anticipated Snoop Dogg concert, and, with the moral support of my best friend and fellow concert buddy, I went to Pozo to see my phobia face-to-face.

This has been my cell wallpaper for the last three weeks to get me pumped for Snoop.

Well, I saw his face. There was quite a crowd between us because I have ear problems and couldn't get too close to the speakers, so I seriously doubt that the Doggfather saw my face, but still, I was there. And the party was bumpin'.

Never mind that it was already a star-studded affair. Not counting Snoop Dogg, we also saw Rebelution, a raggae band from Santa Barbara; and the legendary Ron Jeremy showed up to watch the show too.

Both Ron Jeremy and Doggy Dogg are freaks, after all.

But porn stars and semi-local bands were not what I had come to see. I had come to see the one and only Snoop Doggy Dogg. Although the show was set to start at 4 o'clock, he didn't come onstage until 7:48 (I checked my phone) but when he did, it was electric. To my great fortune, he did not command me to murder my mother, as I had feared. Furthermore, I discovered that his voice was far less hypnotic when drowned out by booming bass.

Instead, I hopped around to Gin and Juice, wiggled my butt to that one song he does with Akon, and sang along with Sexual Eruption.

I left the show with a much greater appreciation of Snoop and his music (also, probably a contact high). Snoop as a person is not afraid to pose the important questions, like when he asked "all the sexy ladies" if they'd ever had an orgasm, before explaining that he wanted to give us one through song by singing Sexual Eruption.

Finally, he didn't want anyone to go home without a little gem of his Snoop-wisdom, and shared with us the three things you should always do when you first get up. I thought I would share them with you. So, courtesy of Snoop Doggy Dogg, the three things you should always do when you first wake up:

1. Brush your teeth.
2. Thank God that you made it to see another day.
3. Smoke some mother-f**king weed.

Just like Snoop would do.

My BEST Jersey Shore idea EVER.

The following is an actual letter that I would email to MTV, if they had any contact info. Instead, I'll put it up here. Maybe someone from MTV will come across it. Then again, probably not. Still, at least it's up here for your benefit:

Dear MTV,

I love your show Jersey Shore. I love it more than may be decent, because I am the stereotypical bookish, took-AP-classes-in-high-school, makes-it-on-the-Dean's-list college nerd, and when I quote Snooki, my friends give me weird, uncomprehending looks. Nevertheless, I am in love with your show. Which is why I was so excited when they announced that there would be a second season.

What's not to love, really?

But here's the thing, MTV: you can't just content yourselves to moving the location. I mean, sure, you're sending the Situation to Miami, but there's only so long the nation can avidly watch fist-pumping and drunken hijinks before it gets a little stale. Which is why you need to add another element. Something completely unexpected, something completely insane (and no, the rumored new cast member is NOT GOOD ENOUGH).

You need non-guidos. You need nerds or dorks or sweet Catholic girls. I don't care, just something very unexpected, and then you need to assign them a guido/guidette mentor, kind of the way the cast guido'd Michael Cera. I want to watch what happens as Snooki tries to turn sweet little Peggy Jane into a miniature version of her Snooki-self (if it is possible to be smaller than Snooki).

Without the pouf, she barely makes it to JWOWW's boobs...

Think about it. Jersey Shore was a hit in the first place because of its novelty. Imagine if you took the novelty of those guidos and put it side-by-side with some very un-guido people who want to be guidofied. IT'S BRILLIANT.

I would be a great candidate. A California girl who likes proper grammar and the occasional Mike's Hard Lemonade, trying her best to be just like JWoWW? It's the definition of must-see tv.

So think it over, MTV. Maybe not this season, but the next, for sure. And I could get a cut of the royalties, yeah?

Victoria Billings

Oh, Spam.

It struck me as rather sad that, upon logging into my e-mail for the third time today, the only messages I had received were facebook notifications from people I hardly talk to and a desperate plea for help from some lady from my church who evidently got mugged at gunpoint while in the UK. I deleted the facebook stuff, but kept the email because, really, it was too good to pass up.

Hello

How are you doing? we had a visit to London (United Kingdom) unannounced some days back, Unfortunately we got mugged at gun point last two nights. All cash, Credit card and cellphones were stolen,It was so traumatic;Thank God we have our life and passport saved,we have been to the embassy they are not 100% helpful so i concluded that returning back home will be the best option.we also have limited means of getting out of here,as we have canceled our cards So i won’t get a new card till i get back home.I really need your support & assistance as my flight leaves in few hours,but i have problems checking out of the Hotel,as i need to sort out some bills, Wondering if you could loan me some bucks to sort out the hotel bills and also take a cab to the airport.this is the number to the hotel +(SECRET)
i wait to hear from you

Kind Regards
(NAME KEPT SECRET FOR PRIVACY)

This message has a few aspects that make it endearing to me:

• First, the sender seems interested in my well-being, even though he or she can't seem to remember my name, and more importantly, HAS BEEN MUGGED. It's not even until the third sentence that a mugging comes into the picture. (Or is it the second sentence? The punctuation and flying majuscules confuse me.)
• More perplexing than the courteous nature of the e-mail, however, is the "unannounced" visit to London (which is in the United Kingdom, if you were too stupid to know). Now, I live on the West Coast of North America, so going to England? Not the most practical thing to do. Most of the people who go to England plan it months in advance and brag about it until you have to stuff cotton into your ears to keep them from bleeding.
• The best part though, is the use of the word "bucks." Subtle clues tipped me off to the fact that this was not an English-speaker writing, like the occasionally dropped article. But an entire email to say "I've been mugged! Lend me a few bucks, pal!" was just overwhelming.
  

Why I am terrified of Snoop Dogg

When I saw that Snoop Dogg was playing at the Pozo Saloon, my first reaction was to text my best friend. She texted me back three seconds later with "OMG WE'RE GOING." We live close enough to Pozo that to miss an opportunity like this would be idiotic. (And by close, I mean as close as anyone can live to Pozo, which is over an hour away.)

Still, I am determined to go, not because I am a fan of Snoop Dogg, but because I am a firm believer in facing your fears, and on my list of fears, Snoop Dogg is pretty high up there.

Right after potato bugs...

Now, you might be saying, "Vicki, you have truly out-crazied yourself here. Snoop Dogg is chill. He's always high and stuff." I know. That's exactly what my co-worker told me when I confessed my phobia to him.

(He also said, "Hey, why does Snoop Dogg carry an umbrella? Answer: Fo drizzle!" I promptly hit him over the head.)

But you misunderstand my phobia. It's not so much fear of Snoop Dogg himself, but fear of his voice from which I suffer. His voice, so smooth and velvety and mesmerizing. It's the kind of voice hypnotists have. If he wanted to, I'm pretty sure he could tell me to do anything, ANYTHING and I would do it.

Oh, you want me to get naked? Cool. You want me to shoot heroine? Sure. You want me to kill my mom with this vase? No problem. You want me to dress up as a smurf and propose to fat people in Walmart? I'll get right on it.

Look at those beady eyes. He knows the power he wields.

He's even the GPS voice, now! He knows how to give directions!

If the government were really smart, they'd hire Snoop Dogg to help them brainwash sleeper cells and stuff like that, Manchurian Candidate-style (the old one, the new one kind of sucks by comparison).

Even in typing this, I know I'm leaving myself vulnerable. But I'm going to hope Snoop Dogg doesn't also hold dominion over the internet, and won't ever read this, and when I go to his concert, I'll bring earplugs along, in case I start to feel my willpower weakening.

Hairy Potter

Empire Magazine has put together a pretty cool gallery of stars in iconic photos, and, being a fan of both magazines and movies, I naturally decided to check it out. I was clicking casually through the slideshow when something stopped me dead in my tracks:

Daniel Radcliffe.


And no I was not stopped dead out of awe or admiration or unadulterated lust. I was stopped out of sheer horror. For there, peaking out of his Simon Cowell-ish man-cleavage top was a mountain of fur. And to make matters worse, Mr. Radcliffe seems to be of the opinion that if you got it, flaunt it.

Now, perhaps this is not the first time someone has made the point that the former adorable boy-wizard who won our hearts before he hit puberty is now turning into a furry beast. In fact, I'm sure someone has, because this is the internet. Nothing goes unnoticed. And that is not the thing I take issue with. There are plenty of adorable hairy people out there (I just don't go for that, sorry guys).

What I take issue with is the way he chooses to bring attention to it. For instance, compare this topless photo of Rad-Potter to the former photo:


See, far less hairy. I mean, he's got quite a happy trail, but that's okay. Those things can come in handy. But his chest doesn't look nearly as bad. You know why? Because he's not framing his blossoming manliness!

I worry, too, for dear Daniel. I mean, if his forest continues to grow, it won't be long before he starts to look like a bear. And then who knows what his movies will be like.

It's Beary Potter, everybody!

Microsoft and the Undead Menace

So, I was watching television today, as is habitual, when another one of those Windows 7 commercials came on. I don't have any real problem with them, from a commercial standpoint, besides the fact that they're pointless and boring as far as commercials go, but I do remember "Windows 7" so I guess they've done their job. Or it could just be that it's the first Windows OS that isn't followed by some string of meaningless letters in a long time. Yes, I'm talking to you, XP.


But this particular commercial caught my attention because it had zombies. Instead of some guy in his shower or some stereotypical Frenchie at an outdoor cafe, there were ZOMBIES! Which made me happy for all of three seconds. Until I watched the commercial.



I can't believe it. Not only is Microsoft giving us ads that look like they took about as much thought as whether or not to breathe, but now they're trying to convince people zombies are loving cuddly things? Seriously, Microsoft? Do you really think this is a socially responsible way to be acting?

This is the same thing that happened when Disney started releasing all those adorable nature movies with the cuddly bears and panthers. They forget the natural order of the wild is to be wild and start demonstrating in front of some government building or other to save a giant man-eating machine that could probably take their head off with one swipe.

Try this with a real bear and you're likely to end up dinner.

Now everyone's going to want to run out and hug a zombie!

I can only imagine with dread the kinds of zombie-related accidents that are going to be popping up in the news soon. Prepare yourself, Microsoft. You better have a good lawyer.

The "Vampyre" Diary and other such rot

Since when did fan fiction count as valid literature? I thought it was something found only on the internet, in fan magazines, and (in its raciest form) scribbled in notebooks hidden beneath beds.

And this is why I never let my mother clean out under my bed...

Now however, it seems that if your fan fiction involves Mr. Darcy, that pompous hottie from Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice then you're almost guaranteed a book deal.

I was first struck with shock while wandering Barnes & Noble looking for the latest Stieg Larsson novel and noticed this ridiculousness on the shelves:

"As the golden summer draws to a close and the Darcys look ahead to the end of their first year of marriage, Mr. Darcy could never have imagined his love could grow even deeper with the passage of time..." Thanks, Amazon.com

Okay, I thought, no big deal. Until I found the book I was looking for and, walking to the checkout, saw this:
Not only did Ms. Amanda Grange have a "vampyre" novel about Mr. Darcy, but she has written the fictional diaries of Darcy, Knightley, Colonel Brandon, and several other Austen heartthrobs to boot.

And apparently combining Pride and Prejudice with Twilight is good business practice, because Amanda Grange was not the only one churning out this kind of ridiculousness. Regina Jeffers has written Vampire Darcy's Desire: A Pride and Prejudice Adaptation. And I don't have time to list all the other Pride and Prejudice knockoffs I found on Amazon (you can look it up yourself).

I'm sure the resemblance is purely coincidental.

Look, girls, I know you want a boyfriend. Someone romantic and sensitive and mysterious who love you for who you are and who finds you irresistibly sexy (and for some reason wants to suck your blood). But buying every Austen fan fiction you get your hands on is not going to get you any closer to that Mr. Darcy of your own. If anything, it's just going to drive him away. Because from what I remember of the character (from the original novel), he doesn't really like boy-crazy ladies who spend all their free time mooning after any guy that gives them the time of day.

This level of lusting after a completely fictional character who lived in a fictional England 200 YEARS AGO just makes me want to bash my head against a wall repeatedly. Except that that would lead to brain damage. And then I might actually want to read these books.

At least I bought The Girl Who Played With Fire. That is some small consolation. Oh, Stieg Larsson, why did you have to die so suddenly after turning in your manuscripts for the Millenium trilogy? Well, at least you finished them. I'll have to content myself with that.

The Doctor is IN

I've been avoiding it for a while now, but it can't be avoided forever. I knew it would come to this, as I am such a huge Doctor Who fan, and of course Matt Smith recently debuted as the new Doctor.


So here I am at last, sitting down at my computer to review Matt Smith as the Eleventh Doctor.

First off, I'll say that I was a little skeptical. Matt Smith is, at 28, the youngest actor to ever take on the role of "Doctor." I started watching Doctor Who when I was eight, and the episodes I watched were of a Doctor in his forties (well, five-hundreds, but he looked like he was in his forties). Really, he's not that much older than Robert Pattinson, and I worried that such a young face would turn one of my favorite shows of all time into a time-traveling Twilight. Or something just as awful.

But after watching a few minutes of "The Eleventh Hour," Matt Smith's first appearance as the Doctor (if you don't count those ten seconds at the end of "The End of Time Part II") I was pleasantly surprised by his maturity. And here I was expecting some annoying pretty boy.

Matt Smith brings a new level of butt-kicking ferocity different from that of his predecessor. When David Tennant got serious, it just made me want to hold him and coo, "There there, it'll be all right, poor lonely Time Lord." Matt Smith's serious seems far more dangerous. His "don't mess with me look" has already struck fear into the hearts of aliens on multiple occasions.

And yet he still manages to balance in the quirky Doctor we have all come to love (unless you've never seen Doctor Who, in which case, why aren't you watching it right now???). His young age even works to his advantage in the boy-like excitement he brings to each episode. In just a few episodes, he has eaten custard and fish sticks, stolen clothes from a hospital, attacked the Daleks with a wrench, and knocked out a robot with a clumsy uppercut. And evidently, he and the hysterical James Corden will be dressing up in football shorts in a coming episode...

Not to mention he looks super cool in sunglasses.

A lot of the credit for the quality of the episodes does have to go to Steven Moffat (the genius behind "Silence in the Library"/"Forest of the Dead," "The Empty Child"/"The Doctor Dances" and the scariest Doctor Who episode ever, "Blink"). Moffat was the perfect writer to introduce Smith to fans, as he, better than anyone else, knows how to WRITE Doctor Who, for fans both old and new.

To top it off, the TARDIS is new and improved. As much as I loved David Tennant, I missed the TARDIS of old (really old, as in, 1970s era old). And now the TARDIS is revamped, with a telephone, hot and cold faucet knobs, and lots of other shiny gadgets. Not to mention levels. I just can't wait to see what's happening next week. Also, TARDIS PRETTY.

United Colors of Booty-ton

Hey, leggings girls!

Stop wearing leggings with nothing but a t-shirt! It looks stupid! Your bum is all-hanging out there, and it makes everyone feel awkward, believe me.


And I'm not saying this to be mean, honest. I know how you feel. I too am often a victim of trends. I wore tight midriff shirts in the early 2000's, and thought I looked great. But I was an eleven-year-old girl, not Jessica Alba, and could not pull off the look and greatly regret it now.

Which is why I am telling you before it is too late:

This leggings/t-shirt thing? It's just a fad. You will look back on it in ten years just as your mother looks back on her eighties prom disaster, with chagrin.

Yes, I realize that shirtdresses exist. And actually, they can look very good with leggings underneath. But that does not mean all t-shirts can be used as dresses. Nor do skinny jeans advocate even skinnier leggings. Because let me tell you, there is a big difference between showing off your pegs in a pair of jeans and looking like a naked orange thing.

Like thus.

I don't want to see your butt. You won't either. Trust me. It's for your own good.

Stephen Colbert Must Be Stopped!

I like Stephen Colbert. He's got incredibly independent eyebrows, an abrasive interview style, and he changed the pronunciation of his last name for show biz, which are all things I can admire. Also, I find him inexplicably attractive. Maybe it's his bottomless brown eyes. I love the way he blinks.

Who wouldn't find this attractive???

But he must pay for what he has done.

Why? Because he's going to astronaut training! On Thursday's episode of the Colbert Report, he announced that not only did he save NASA from Obama's budget cuts, but now, in gratitude, NASA has invited him to Houston for astronaut training!

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
Stephen Saves the Space Program
www.colbertnation.com
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This is unjust. This is unjust and unfair and for once in my life, I cannot just look into Stephen Colbert's dark, dreamy brown eyes to make the hurt go away. Because if anyone deserves to go to Houston, it's me.

Yes, I know I'm not exactly in prime astronaut physical condition. And I know I know very little (nothing) about aeronautics. But there is no one in the world who loves space and astronauts more than I do.

Evidence:

• Before I could read, my bedtime stories were Isaac Asimov's Caves of Steel novels with R. Daneel Olivaw and Elijah Baley.
• After I learned to read, I moved up to The Foundation Trilogy.
• Friday nights are for pizza and Star Trek. It started with TNG, but now I'll watch anything except Enterprise, because everyone knows Enterprise sucks.
• I used to pray to God for the TARDIS to land in my backyard so Tom Baker could take me to other planets and times.
• I love the Mars specials on Discovery. I want us to make a colony there, and if we do, I volunteer to be the first journalist on another planet!
• Vacation in Florida meant skipping Seaworld to go see Cape Canaveral. And touch moon rocks.
• "Gifted" by N.A.S.A. is #1 in my Top 25 Most Played list on my iTunes (and, coincidentally, the best song IN THE WORLD).
• I have an entire blog specifically pointing out the fact that I am a huge SPACE CADET.

Colbert already got a space-treadmill named after him! Isn't that enough?

So please, NASA, take me instead of Colbert! Or at least, Colbert, could you take me with you?

The BLUE PEOPLE are here!

I know Avatar was popular, but I didn't realize how until I found out that people were dying themselves blue. Like Na'vi. Or Smurfs.

Okay, so I'm only half telling the truth. Nobody (that I know of) has gone so far as to dye themselves blue for the purpose of looking like a Na'vi (some guy did get this tattoo, though). But there really are people with blue skin! It turns out the skin disease is called argyria, which can result from consuming too much silver.

You have to admit there is some resemblance here...

Not that Avatar fever has died down much. Netflix keeps nagging me to put it on my "save" queue, even though I've seen it twice, Netflix! And you can also learn Na'vi online if you feel that Klingon and Elvish aren't exciting enough.

Evidently Hollywood is working on a new Smurf movie, with Katie Perry playing Smurfette (I can just picture all the guys flocking to the movie theaters now...) and I know you're thinking okay, yeah, sure, Smurfs are blue, Na'vi are blue, whatevs? Whales are blue. Does that mean Avatar was a rip-off of 2002's Whale Rider? (hint: no)

But here's the most crucial part:

The new Smurf movie is going to be made in 3-D! It's pretty much an Avatar sequel! Or at least, that's the way I choose to see it. I just don't know how many tattoos it will inspire.

Welcome to my rodeo (an open letter to T-Pain)

Dear T-Pain,

How do you do it?

To be honest, I wasn't familiar with your general body of work before I saw "I'm On a Boat," and I wasn't really that much more familiar with your body of work afterward either (although I'll admit I watched "I'm N Luv (Wit a Stripper)" but that's really all). Still, your long dreads were intriguing, and so when I saw that you had a new video out, "Reverse Cowgirl," I obviously clicked play.

First off, starting the song with a thirty-second series of ehs, oohs, and naws was sheer genius. I didn't even have to pay attention to the lyrics, but could permit myself to be mesmerized by your incredible man-locks.

Glorious.

And then you started singing words! My mind was blown. The extended metaphor comparing sex to a rodeo was effortless. I especially appreciated the "giddy-up, giddy-up!" background vocals. The best part of the song didn't come until the bridge though, when you revealed, "Imma saddle up my baby, hold on to her tight and go 'boom-boom-boom-boom-boom' for eight seconds long!"

To put it bluntly, you fascinate me, T-Pain. So I did some research. If Wikipedia can be trusted, you have three kids: Lyriq, Muziq, and Kaydnz Koda, all of which proves you have obviously studied music at least a little, something which cannot be said for all musicians nowadays. However, I'm left to doubt whether or not you finished middle school. Then again, even if your kids do get teased about their alternatively spelled names, mentioning that their father is T-Pain will probably put a swift end to any playground chagrin they may face.

So how do you do it, T-Pain? How do you manage to wrap up so much incredible in your little auto-tuned masterpieces? My guess is you're hiding the genius in your chunky hair tentacles.

Sincerely,
Vicki

P.S. And for those of you who AREN'T T-Pain or who haven't seen the video, it's right here:

And thus began her glorious venture into the infinity that is the Web!

Hello, internet.

My name is Vicki. If you hadn't gathered that much by now, I'm extremely disappointed in you. This is, as you should probably also know, my blog. Brand spankin' new and waiting to be filled with all sorts of pointless ramblings.

As you probably also know, if you are at all internet-aware, it's rather impossible to have a first blog-post that is at all interesting or pertinent. So I've decided just to get this terrible and unavoidable obstacle out of the way so I can move onto better things.

On the bright side, I finally found a name for this thing.

And now back to Doctor Who: The Robots of Death.

Vicki