I recently attended the Mothman Festival in Point Pleasant, West Virginia. For those of you not keeping count, that is TWO Mothman-related activities this summer, alone (three actually, if you count that I watched the Mothman Prophecies with AlexT). This means that I am not just an expert anymore. I have graduated to being the foremost mothmandollogist in the field of Mothmanology.
Tag: junior scientist
First came the tentacle rape.
It was the beginning in a long line of horrors that OMGJeremy has subjected me to in his articles since the very beginning in 2002. (OMGJeremy.com was the site that most of us used to write for.) But you know what they say: what doesn’t kill you can only make you stronger. Well, I must be invincible by now. And not only have I seen a lot, but I’ve written about a lot too, articles that have been lost to time mostly, including a review of a site that teaches women how to rape their husbands. But in 2003, I found something that managed to combine all of those and more. It’s as if all my nightmares Go-Go-Power-Morphed into some unholy Megazord and returned to feed me my own ass.
“What is it?” you’re probably asking as you close the door and open a new browser window. Why It’s none other than Furcadia — an online game that let you take on the role of an animal and interact with others in a series of dream worlds. And not surprisingly in the least, it contains the three big staples of the internet diet: furries, cybersex, and MMORPGs.
It’s summertime. It has been summertime for a good long while now, actually, but here in Kentucky the full force of summer hadn’t hit me until fairly recently. It must be said that I generally die during the summer time of year. The blistering heat and suffocating humidity do me no favors, and the harsh rays of the earth’s yellow sun give me freckles and a tan. How can I be “Amandoll, Undead Creature of the Night” if I am sporting a healthy tan? I cannot be, that’s how.
I am a girl who enjoys clinging to the silver lining, however, and fortunately I can come up with two things I enjoy about summer: soft serve ice cream cones from locally owned dairy shacks, and grape soda. Grape soda is probably a tasty treat all year long, but I do not thirst for it until the temperatures reach 90F (32C) and above, which actually is a temperature it still can reach in the autumnal months. It is also better when there is a drought on, because walking down alley ways behind businesses while a fine dust blows in your eyes is the PERFECT time to be sipping from a cold and slender glass bottle of that purple wonder elixir.
Previously, I had been under the mistaken impression that all grape drinks were created more or less the same. How many differences could there be in a product that contained soda water, purple color, and sweetener? Well, actually I don’t really know myself, so I have decided to conduct a Consumer Report for the world to reference as a resource. I am going to select a small variety of grape drink beverages and test them against the horrible summer heat. I will grade them on Flavor, Mouthfeel, Thirst Quench, Packaging, and Arbitrary Impressions. There will be technical jargon bandied about, and an air of scientific study will be apparent. So put on your eye goggles, sneer enthusiasts, because I’m going Purple Drank Sippin’!
I have known Billy Holiday for a very, very long time. I thought that I knew everything there was to know about him but then he dropped this outrageous bombshell on me. And then I offended him. Then there was a spat. It is a classic cycle and is either strengthening or eroding our friendship little by little over these long years.
Now, I am no chicken-cooking expert. This is partly because I am not a great cook, but it is also because I don’t enjoy cooking meats. I always fear that they are underdone and poisoning me or giving me parasites. However, I can tell you that I can’t recall ever having cooked a chicken that came out dry. Maybe my standards are low when it comes to the golden bird, or maybe Billy Holiday needs to take some lessons.
I don’t think you’ll even need to click on it to read it. But if you need to see the detail, if you want to zoom in and see where I changed my hair to better reflect the year 2017, you sure can do it!
I am not the most physically strong person there is. It is a struggle for me to do a single push up, and I prefer to generally never do any sort of heavy lifting. You won’t find me running endurance races, or hurtling myself over obstacles. All of my strength is inner strength, which I think is pretty important in the scheme of things. I’m not some great champion of cryptic crosswords, but I can do them, a little. And I’m not exactly brave, judging by my reaction to the last house centipede I saw… Maybe I’m not THAT strong mentally, or psychologically. But I can do one thing. I can sit through unbelievably long YouTube videos of ambient sounds.
Or so I thought! On this particular day, I decided to listen to the soothing sounds of laughter for 24 hours (if I listened to the video twice). After twenty minutes, I was done. I’m not sure if I was already out of balance when I started this experience, but my roller coaster was so pronounced that I began keeping a little journal of my reactions. I did keep adding layers of difficulty to the situation, in an almost self-destructive act. I just wanted it to end. I just wanted it to ALL end.
Observe my tribulation below. Click on it, if you have to. You can see it better that way.
It’s ANY DAY OF THE WEEK and without a doubt every single person who might ever read this DEFINITELY needs to get fit, fast! Faster! Any minute of the day is the right time to inform you that you are blubbery and unsightly and obviously need to start exercising because, honey, that portion control diet that relies on self-control just AIN’T workin’ for you. At least, this is what I have gleaned from watching any television, seeing any magazine, or overhearing anyone trying to make money at the expense of the insecurities of others. And who isn’t, amirite?
Well let me tell you that THIS article CAN’T fail. It’s my very own method towards a better me, and friends, if I use it, then it HAS to be good. It is also probably based on science because I am wearing a lab coat as I write this. And my name tag says “Dr. Amandoll, nutritionology fitness expert.” It’s not like I do anything else but sit around and THINK all the time, right? So I clearly have all the answers. I think that’s all it takes to make me Qualified, right? Right? Well, if you believe it, it’s good enough for me, and let’s never bring the Courts into it.
My friend received a package from her dad in the mail containing DVDs, a CD, books, and a pickle. The sheer absurdity of it is impressive, perhaps only because it would never occur to me, nor any other reasonable human being, to mail a pickle. But there it was in front of us. The mail pickle. This description alone should have been enough for us to immediately deposit it in the trash, but it only gets worse.
Van Holten’s “Hot Mama” pickle is a fascinating object. It’s a rather large pickle floating in brine in a plastic sack. The “Hot Mama” is advertised as the spicy variety. The front of the sack announces to the world “contents: one pickle” and proudly displays that the product “needs no refrigeration.” Well of course it’s okay to mail this pickle. It needs no refrigeration. It contains 4,770 milligrams of sodium. For reference, the daily recommended maximum intake of sodium for a healthy adult is 2,300 milligrams. For the mathematically inept, this pickle has more than twice as much salt as anyone should eat in a day.
It’s a well-known fact that it’s very difficult to train a cat. Some people say it’s because cats are too smart to be trained. Now I may not know why it’s so hard, but that definitely isn’t the reason. Cats aren’t smart animals. They might be sneaky enough to trick you into thinking they’re of a superior intelligence, but just because they can pee in my toilet and open my cabinets, I won’t be fooled. They’re stupid, they have nothing to do all day, and they can jump on top of anything. It is a perfect storm of potential for a cat-tastrophe.
Anyway, I’d often wondered if my thick-headed felines knew what their names are. Sure, sometimes they turn when I yell their name, but maybe they’re just turning at the yelling. Or maybe they know by the tone of my voice that they’re doing something wrong. Or maybe they just already knew they were doing something wrong, and reacted in a panic to the loudest noise. I’ll never actually figure it out, but I try sometimes.
Small talk is so boring and terrible. It makes me want to shout, don’t you have anything real to say! Some people just say things like “how are you” or “what’s new”, but some extra boring people like to chat about the weather, without actually saying anything. Yeah, the sun’s out. Sure, it’s snowing. But how do you really feel?
Today is Weatherman’s Day! I don’t know what that means, but in honor of that, let’s bring back talking about the weather, but the actual weather. It’s such a beautiful thing and can be really interesting, but don’t bore the pants off of everyone by having nothing to say. Because really, if you have nothing to say, maybe don’t say anything.
Lately I’ve been trying to find something that I can eat for lunch at work that doesn’t come out of that part of the frozen meal section that oh so many middle-aged women huddle around at your local supermarket. While those frozen meals are generally okay, I find myself slowly spiraling into depression more and more with every microwave thawing of one. I have no idea why. Maybe because it makes me sad that I would much rather be eating SpaghettiOs straight out of the can than sitting there deciding if I would rather get another frozen brick of French Mushroom Italian Delight Panini, or Italian Lobster Fish Fart Bake. At least SpaghettiOs have a taste. They taste like SpaghettiOs. All of that frozen stuff just tastes like microwave radiation, no matter how many fancy ingredients you claim are in it.
As much as I would like to just drink a can of SpaghettiOs at work, I feel I need to be a bit more “adult” in my lunch approach. So I did what any confused person that has no clue what the fuck they want does at the supermarket and wandered into the mystical International Foods aisle. I was instantly greeted with more than a few lunch options: mostly a bunch of generic rice packets and other assorted ricey things. But that shit need not even apply because out of the corner of my eye, I spotted these little beauties: