Why I Will Never Watch Snow White Ever Again

from LoveHeartz at iconator

Listening to Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs 
Worrying about my Italian exam tomorrow
    I should be asleep right now, but instead I decided to watch Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (which, by the way, still scares me to death and I've only seen it once all the way through). Brilliant idea at two in the morning in a dark room during a thunderstorm, right? It gets better.
    YouTube took off all the Disney movies a few months ago, but I found part one of Snow White, so I assumed I'd be able to find the rest. I couldn't. What I did find was a live action version, with a really pretty girl who, I assumed, was Snow White (called Lily in this version). Sigourney Weaver played the evil stepmother. I thought, "This ought to be good."
    What I didn't realize until I'd already clicked and couldn't possibly stop watching was that it was entitled Snow White A Tale Of Terror. As if the Disney version wasn't bad enough. Not only does the stepmother try to get her brother to kill Lily and bring back her heart, but she also makes the heart he brought back (a pig's thank goodness) into a stew and feeds it to Lily's father, as well as feasts on it herself. She also makes out with said brother, and Lily's fiancee later on, keeps the son that she miscarried - like he's alive, tries to bury Lily alive, as well as crucifies her father, turns all the servants of the house into blood crazed cannibals, pushes Lily's fiancee out a third story window through the glass, and uses Lily's father's blood to bring her son to life in some sort of ceremony (he looked like a zombie child with skeletal little hands). There's more. Rather than kill her, the apple gives the appearance of her being dead - her eyes can see, her ears can hear, but she can't breathe or speak or move, so her fiancee (whom she doesn't love anymore by this point) and the man she actually loves think she's dead and put her in a stained-glass coffin where she'll stay alive and unmoving for all eternity. It's not until they begin to bury her that the man she loves, whose name escapes me, realizes she's still alive. And I'm still not sure how. He does some sort of Heimlich deal and she spits up a piece of apple. When she comes to rescue her father and finds the stepmother and a house of zombie-slaves and a zombie-baby, and mirrors everywhere, she begins smashing them all, which of course gives evil stepmother dearest plenty of sharp objects to stab into Lily's face. Then she takes Lily by the back of the head and smashes her face into a mirror repeatedly before realizing her son is on fire from a toppled-over candelabra. That's when Lily finally gets to stab the magic mirror and kill stepmumsie, who first spurts blood from her chest, then becomes old, then gets impaled with shards of the magic mirror which explodes, then falls back into the fire and goes up in flames, then gets crushed by her huge bed which collapses on her. Her death is quite epic. All of these disturbing vignettes are filmed in far too much detail to be suitable for in-the-dark watching in the middle of a stormy night.
    I. Will. Never. Sleep. Again.

Letters to Inanimate Objects 3/22

from footballgrly973 at iconator

Bouncin' along to She Moves In Her Own Way by the Kooks. It's just so darn catchy.
Reveling in the fact that I'm wearing summer pj's with my window open. Thank you, Georgia.
    I really need to be more consistent with my blogging here. But let's face it. I'm nothing if not completely inconsistent with everything I do. It's part of my charm. Right? Don't answer that. Here are some random Letters to Inanimate Objects. Do enjoy, dear reader.

Dear Georgia Weather,

    Your spring breezes are delightful, and I'm loving that the nights are open-window-worthy, but I beg you, for the sake of all things itchy and watery and sneezy, let up on the pollen. I'm nerdy enough every day of my life without having to wear my stupid glasses because my eyes are two swollen red itchy hives. I pay a lot of money for those contacts since obviously I have to bribe them with cash to get along with my eyes. Now you're shooting little yellow allergy bombs into my eyeballs and ruining their fragile tolerance of one another. You take your golden powdered breezes and go blow yourself. (Ha. Ha ha. See what I did there?) 

Dear Cold That I've Had For Over A Week,

    This is a formal letter demanding your surrender. I'm armed with Zyrtec, Zycam, Vick's, DayQuil, and off-brand Tylenol Cold and Sinus, and I'm not afraid to take them all at the same time. I see that you've entrenched yourself in my lungs and chest, and I'm warning you, that's dangerous territory. You want trench warfare? I'll gas you with the daggum humidifier. I realize that my attempt at annihilating your stronghold in my throat with that throat-numbing spray didn't work well because I couldn't keep my tongue down, so I ended up numbing that, but I'll have you know that if you turn this into pneumonia (again) the hospital is heavily armed and a strong Ally. Prepare yourself you disgusting menace, 'cause the Benadryl grenades are flyin'. You. Are. Going. Down.

Dear CoverGirl Outlast Lip Stain,

    I've heard a lot of negative reviews about you, but personally, I've been very pleased. I love the fact that I can put you on, and have good color that doesn't immediately scream "I'm wearing lipstick!" After you're all dry and soaked in, it doesn't even feel like I'm wearing anything, and I can put Chapstick on top and it doesn't change the color at all. 200 awesome points to you. (Although, I'd like to try a different color..) 


Sincerely,
Sarah Jane

Germ Bombing

Yeah, I just found this really funny.

Listening to Blackbird (the Glee version. I loved this, despite the fact that no one can do better than the Beatles.)
Also: sniffing, sneezing, and being generally miserable
    If you haven't already guessed, I'm sick. Why am I up at 12:30 you ask? Well you see, dear reader, medicine doesn't take effect instantly, despite the fact that I completely believed that as a child, so I'm waiting for my NyQuil to kick in. Sometime over the last few days I caught a cold. And boy, is it a doozie. I'm sneezing like mad, stuffy and runny, and I've got a good cough brewing, too. Top it off with a sore throat and all-around puniness, and that's something to shake your tissue box at. 
    Luckily, my English professor will be at a conference today, so I don't have to try to get up and drive myself to my 9:30 class. That would be a hazard to the general public, anyways. My last class isn't until 6:30 tonight, so I'll have all day to muster the strength to stumble to my car. 
    The downside to this (despite the obvious, which is the actual being sick part) is that I have a hair appointment on Friday morning, work Friday night and Saturday night, and some important things going on Sunday that I really need to be well for. Consequently, I have been drinking hot tea all day, popping Advil for my throat, and carrying around a roll of toilet paper like it's a fashion statement. I tried using that cherry-flavored throat spray that numbs your throat, but due to the fact that I'm eight years old and can't control my tongue, I ended up spritzing that about five times and couldn't feel my tongue for half an hour. Yes, I am a complete moron - even when I'm not sick. 
    I actually lost my voice this morning, which hasn't happened since high school. It was so weird for me, so foreign, that I kept forgetting even though my throat was/is killing me. Driving to class and blasting the same song on repeat on my iPod, I kept trying to sing along, and nothing came out. Talk about confusing. I sing constantly and when the only noise that came out was a strangled whimpering noise, I was super disoriented. 
    My current problem is the fact that one side of my nose is completely stuffed up. No air's getting up there. Now, when I was little, I had my own way of dealing with this. I'm talking ten and under. I used to roll up a tissue and stick it up my nose and just leave it there. In my thoroughly mistaken little mind, this served a dual purpose - both prying open my swollen airways, and catching the runny-ness. I severely doubt this actually helped anything, except aiding me in looking like an idiot, which I didn't need help with, believe me. Now, I just keep rolling over and over and over and over and... you get the picture.
    Well, I'm feeling heavy-lidded. Forget the teddy bear; tonight, my cuddle buddy is a roll of TP. I'll take Pathetic for a thousand, Alex.

Letters to Inanimate Objects 3/7

Listening to My Funny Valentine by THE Frank Sinatra (Love that man.)
Craving sushi from that lovely place on the square. 
    I was very close to doing this post earlier in the week - last week, that is - because things just kept HAPPENING and verbal letters were composed left and right. But it wasn't until tonight that I remembered a few of them, so here they are!

Dear little bottle of ginger in the spice cabinet,

    I get it. You're almost completely full. Still. I know you're a tad left out up there in the spice cabinet, on the rack with all the frequently used-spices. And I don't care if they do make fun of you, that's no reason to throw yourself from such a height. Onto my lunch. Twice. I'm sorry, but it wouldn't have worked out between the two of you anyways; goat cheese and ginger? That's like onions and chocolate, just a terrible mistake. Take some advice from the expert here and wait for The One. He'll probably be Asian.

Dear chapstick,

    Obviously you find this funny, this messed-up version of hide-and-seek you're playing. If you haven't noticed, I'm still seeking, and I called "Olly-olly-oxen-free." Why is it that you find it so convenient to hide whenever I need you? My chapped lips are not amused. 

Dear Tresor in Love from Lancome,

    You smell like heaven on a breezy afternoon. By a lazy stream in a sun-dappled meadow. Drenched in awesome-sauce with happy-sprinkles. And cinnamon. Because cinnamon is delicious.


    Sincerely,
Sarah Jane

Birfday

Currently listening to the Beauty and the Beast Soundtrack - I will never ever ever grow out of my love for this movie. I adore everything about it. Especially the music.
Wondering how it is that my bed and floor are once again hidden beneath a layer of freshly fallen laundry.
    For those of you unaware, and for those who care (that rhymed!!), my birthday was this past Sunday, the 27. I turned twenty, and it was lovely. Very little actually happened aside from traveling home from my grandparents' house, but I like that it was relaxed. My grandma and papa (Mom's parents) gave me a cookie cake and twenty-five dollars. Awesome-tastic.
   Funny story, actually... I had to sleep on an air mattress in the living room with my sister, and my cousin Aaron slept on the couch. Being the bright and shiny morning person that I am *insert heavy sarcasm here* I was the last to wake up. So Aaron took it upon himself to tickle me before I'd even opened my eyes. I completely spazzed, of course, and rolled myself up in a ball in the blankets to avoid being tickled again, which is when grandma marched in and said, "Get up, Sarah Jane! Happy birthday!" And as I uncovered my face, she plopped a cookie cake on my chest. I meant to say something like, "Yay! Thank you!" Or even, "I love cookie cake!" But what came out was, "Aungh!" which is a mix between a walrus and cow, in case you're wondering. I think I just sort of swallowed my words. I may have said thank you after that, but the first words that actually came out weren't words at all. (Side note: I can't remember if it was Aaron or his twin brother Andrew, but last time we all spent the night up at grandmas, I was sleeping on a pallet on the floor, and one of them grabbed my feet and drug me halfway into the hallway to get me up. I don't have the best experiences waking up at Grandma and Papa's..)
    Anyhoo. After driving home, I got a little package - my hair feathers! I have three in now, but I am not going to take a picture because I'm in my pajamas and look awful. I do, however, have a few pictures from my birthday dinner at a Thai restaurant. It was super delicious, but very rich, and (surprise!) made me extremely sick as soon as we got home, but it was worth it. I literally can't eat without being sick... Of course I can't not eat without being sick, either. The conundrum of my stomach issues. Without further ado, pictures!

My sister Maggie and I.

Maggie and I again, but from an exciting new angle!

"Pretend to blow out the candle!" Maggie said. This is the result. Afterward I laughed on my dessert and accidentally blew out the candle. Fail.

    When we got home, Corey and his friend Jeremy came over, and it was oodles of laughs and giggles. Only not from Corey and Jeremy. Because they're men, and men do not giggle. They chuckle. Also, "Men aren't ticklish," Corey says. "They're sensitive." I laughed at that one. Mostly because he's completely ticklish. But I digress.
    After working on a delightful paper which made me want to pluck out my eyeballs with a pin (Oedipus, anyone?) I chanced upon an intriguing little fragment from Frost at Midnight, a poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. The "sole unquiet thing". He's referring to a piece of soot fluttering on the grate of a fireplace, which supposedly signaled a stranger coming to visit, but I really like the way it sounds. "Sole unquiet thing." I kind of want to change my blog title to that. Any thoughts?