Are You Ready For a Zombie Party?

Yep yep… we’ve heard it a hundred times.  We’ve seen a hundred movies.  Movies about the end of the world, 2012, zombies.   It never ends!  And we fall for this constantly.  Maybe it is because as human beings, we need the stimulation.  Like a world full of drama queens, except this is a little more serious than a broken nail and a backstabbing girlfriend.

By bionicidiot
The Zombies Are Coming!

Some say that in this apocalypse that the good will be spared and that the bad and unrepentant will be cast into hell.  Some say that it will be a zombie party and the living doomed to death or eternal living death.

Well, I am prepared!  I have the Zombie Survival Guide Page A Day Calendar!  I thought that having this calendar would be a great asset to surviving  a zombie apocalypse or any other type of disaster.  It has all types of goodies and tips like getting up the steps and getting rid of said steps, how to obliterate a zombie (essential!), what kinds of weapons to use.  Damn if I didn’t throw away the first four months of pages!

If you need any help in preparing for Zombies, or any other disaster, I heartily suggest watching Zombieland with Woody Harrelson.  If you have seen it, watch it again. Not only is it amusing, it is full of tips!    The classic “double tap”  of course.  In any movie before Zombieland, we’ve seen the protagonist shoot or stab the antagonist and walk away assuming said bad guy was dead.  This left the audience yelling at the screen, frustrated that the protagonist did not make sure the bad guy was dead.

The double tap put this faux pas to rest.   I’ll leave the rest to the movie, but the double tap is paramount!

Also… very important to make sure all bases are covered.  If you are going to stay inside, for Pete’s sake make sure you have all the essentials!  This is where having a case of Twinkies is great!  They keep for years (hopefully you won’t need the Twninksters to keep that long) and they taste great!  The bad news is that you won’t be able to wash them down with an ice-cold glass of milk.  Also, if you have canned food (and I am sure you will) make sure you have a manual can opener.  An electric can opener is as useless as… well, anything utterly useless.

It is in disastrous times we tend to realize how useless technology really is.  In times of catastrophe and the world overtaken by zombies, craft and skill of the survival kind are necessary.

So dig deep into your guttural souls, dearies.  It is survival of the fittest.

Stay safe my friends!!

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Over Thinking – The Destruction of Creativity

A roulette wheel.
Image via Wikipedia

You walk into a pool hall, a bowling alley or a casino for the first time.  All brand new and shiny, you are awed.  You take your first break of the rack, throw the bowling ball down the lane for the first time, or you bet it all on black.

WINNER! WINNER! WINNER!

Wow, this is easy!  You think.. but then you actually do start to think.  And then before you know it, you are scratching on the pool table or sinking the 8 ball prematurely.  Your bowling ball keeps gravitating to the gutter and you’re pretty sure you should leave the casino before you sign your kids over to the roulette wheel dealer.

Every time we over think something, we destroy the creativity and naturalness of what is to be.

Let’s take writing our plot for our story or blog.  We break it down into small pieces in an outline.  We have topics, sub topics, and then we have all the goodies to stuff inside.  I don’t know about you… but when it comes to writing fiction, I have to leave the outline right in front of my face.  I am still working on how to get it so that it is a transparent film over top of my computer screen.  Like back in the day with those projector screens in school.  As if!

Over thinking has been the creation of my demise.  Kind of an oxymoron, but I think you get the gist.   I get a simple idea, and then before I know it, I am adding too much sugar, taking out a lot of salt, and voila!  I have some nasty concoction that was once awesome.

Of course we have to have characters, a plot, a sub lot, and all the other cream that gets stuffed inside.  Easy… one thing at a time.  Outlines help me out because I have a tendency to travel on one road and then I see a little offshoot, and before I know it, I am writing ten pages about the sub plot (which is starting to interfere with the main plot) and.. wait, what was I writing about?  How did this purple Smurf get in here?  Damn my over thinking!

Sometimes we need something along the lines of a purple Smurf.  Maybe your purple Smurf has a dog named Vlad that shoots flames out of his paws.  Who knows.  It is good to have a scratch pad or something to the side (I do this.. it gets the distractions out of my head) to doodle your cockamamie ideas.

You never know…. getting it out of your over active imagination might lead you to something big!  For today, there is only do, or do not.  There is no over thinking.

If I Could Create My Own Half Hour Show

If I could create my own half hour show; no holds barred.  It would probably be a cross between the earlier years of the tv show Roseanne (which I can identify with) and Night Rider.  I would play the lead role.  I’d be an insecure teenager living in a blue-collar home with a domineering mother and a father who drinks too much.  I’d go to school and be miserable in plain sight.

But at the end of the day, when all are fast asleep:

I’d sneak out my bedroom window with my cloaking device and silent shoes.  I would hover down to the driveway which is to the far left of my bedroom window and summon my bad ass 1970 Monte Carlo with a bored out 350 engine and 4 barrel carburetor.  I would get messages from my dog Snippet, who runs the operation from his doghouse in the back yard.    Snippet’s doghouse greatly resembles Snoopy‘s doghouse from Peanuts: small and average on the outside but kicking it bigtime on the inside. Snippet would update me on people to assist and avenge.  I would do the job for free because it gets me out of the house.  Snippet can leave his house when ever he wants, so he begs me to ask those who require our assistance for doggie treats.  Snippet does not like Beggin’ Strips

In my Emerald Green Monte Carlo I chirp second gear and rush to the aid of a young boy whose cat happens to be in a tree three blocks west.  Snippet, now in the front seat, asks me why we have to save the damn cat.  “It’s just a cat,” he howls.

“There, there Snippet.  Cats never hurt you,”  I whisper.  Snippet and I get into a philosophical conversation about cats and dogs as he tells me how the movie by the same name did no justice to dogs.  I concur to appease ol’ Snippet.

Just as I turn the corner, I spot the tree.  I put the car in neutral and roll quietly into a perfect parking spot near the maple tree which looks out of place in front of the yellow sided house on a small city street.  I get out of the car.  My cloaking device and silent shoes now activated, I sneak up the tree and grab the howling cat by the neck.   I look over to the house that belongs to the tree and see a boy in my class staring out the window.  He saw me.  I hover over to his window. 

“You’re dreaming.  Go back to sleep,” I say hoping that it works.  I do not yet have the ability of mind control.  I hand the cat to the boy as he puts his arms out. 

“Thanks,” he stutters.

“No problem,” as I turn I remember, “Do you have any doggie treats, boy?” 

The kid disappears for a moment and comes back with some Whiskas cat treats.  “Will this do?”

Snippet won’t know the difference.  I tip my hat, and bid the boy ado.

I go back to my idling Monte Carlo, Snippet is glaring at me and won’t acknowledge me for the next three days.  That’s okay.  Extra treats for Snippet for behaving. 

I pull up a half block from my house, my mother is awake on the couch watching some night-time soap opera.  I tell my Monte Carlo to park until next time.  Without a rumble, the car takes off.

My father is passed out in his chair.  I order Snippet back to his abode.  He goes graciously.  I use my cloaking device and silent shoes to sneak in through the back door and up to my bedroom.

I did my good deed for this episode.

That is my first idea born from boredom for ridiculous half hour comedy/drama show.  Gotta love sitting staring at a blank screen!

Ooh Ooh.. Growing Up..

When I was a teenager I thought I knew everything.. I guess most teenagers feel this way. I have a teenage daughter, and I see a lot of myself in her.

Remember when we were fourteen or fifteen and we thought our parents were idiots, totally uncool and basically, had no idea what they were talking about?  Yeah, that’s where I am now.  I find myself repeating a lot of the ideals that were told to me at that fork in the road age.

I remember my first heartbreak.  Ugh.  I was so devastated! I was totally head over heels in love with a boy that lived around the corner.. he was kind of cocky, super cute and really wanted nothing to do with me.. I am not sure why it was this last quality that attracted me most to this boy.  Perhaps it was the fact that my father ignored me for most of my childhood and since I couldn’t get his attention, I could try to get a boy’s attention.

Needless to say, he wanted nothing to do with me.  So I decided to date his older brother.  Yeah, not the best idea.  He was a really nice guy (ack!) and I just didn’t pine for him like I pined for his brother.  Strike one.  I dated the older brother for about three weeks and then the kid I crushed on decided to test my loyalties to his older brother.  He told his brother (I came to find out later) that he was going to flirt with me and that I would ditch older brother.  Younger brother nailed it.   He was pretty smart for a sixteen year old, and I was devastated when he said to me, “I knew you didn’t like my brother, so I tricked you.”  Nice, eh?  However, I did like his older brother.  He was tall and he made me laugh with his Peter Gabriel and Kinks impressions.  But his brother liked me too.

I was so crushed by the “trick” played on me (which was one of a few different boys played on me) that I had enough and decided that it was time to get on with it.  It was time to die.

I went into my room, I put on some Pink Floyd, took the razor blade I got from my dad’s top drawer and slit my wrists.  Extreme, I know.  But no one knew who I was.  No one understood me.  No one got what I was going through.  Certainly not my parents.  They were never really around at that crucial teen stage and it didn’t matter anyway.  I felt it was too late for me. I was screwed.

I still have those scars on my wrists.  They are a haunting reminder of how unhappy I was.  The pictures of me around that time (none of which I am smiling in) are haunting reminders as well. I now use those scars to remind people about depression and suicidal thoughts should they ask.  Not many do.

If I could go back and talk to myself, I would tell me that it was all going to be okay.  That I was going to grow up and be a beautiful woman so smart and too wise.  I would tell myself that everyone goes through  a heartbreak or two and that it is the heartbreaks, failures and things that don’t work out that make us wiser and keep us strong.  It is those things that help us to grow into strong, resilient individuals.  I would tell me to have faith, it will all work out.

It always does.

Picture courtesy of www.weheartit.com

Suite 101

http://www.suite101.com/profile.cfm/730095

This is the link to my articles on Suite 101…. I am having a hard time trying to market myself.  I am shy by nature and so I always feel like when I am marketing myself I am being pushy.  I was taught that people do not respond to pushy.   I think it is great when others market themselves… I love seeing the new and interesting ways people do this.  Hopefully I leap this shy hurdle soon.

Muscled By Geese

Since I am having a hard time finding pictures online of items, animals, sports teams, musicians, etc., I decided to go out on this beautiful Sunday afternoon to take some pictures.

I didn’t have a huge amount of luck, as I did not travel far.  I get like that.  I don’t really want to be around people sometimes (of course looking like I just stepped off a street corner may have had something to do with that).

I did make myself walk into Starbucks and get a coffee.   I went to the one in Yardley, PA by the lake next to a church.  Both the Starbucks and the church are close to the road.  The lake is overrun with geese and ducks who have no problem approaching someone with a tasty treat.  I ate most of the banana nut bread I purchased.  I looked up to see a pair of eyeballs staring back at me.

About To Get Muscled For My Tasty Treat

Now, a rational person would just chuckle perhaps.  “Aww, look at the adorable geese!”

Not me.

I was bitten by a goose when I was a wee lass.  Now, I am nervous around geese.  And I mean, really.  They have those black hoods that hide their beady eyeballs.  Never trust something or someone you can’t look directly in the eye.

Needless to say, I ate about five morsels of my bread.  The nerves really started to go crazy as the geese approached closer.  There were ducks not too far behind.

I threw a piece of bread into the lake.   The geese careened on it like vultures on a carcass.  I stood and watched, sure I was safe for a moment.   The geese swallowed down the sopping bread.  They hissed at each other.  It was a battle of wills until the bread was gone.  A motorcycle roared by, snapping me back to reality.   Geese were staring me down, waiting for more.   My left arm threw small pieces of bread as far as it could muster.

I made a mental note to get back to the gym and high tailed it out of there.

Mireya Mayor: Female Indiana Jones

Her name is Mireya Mayor.  She is a PhD that people call “The Female Indiana Jones.”

She has drunk cow’s blood and eaten raw goat kidney.  Mayor, 37, grew up in Miami, a Cuban “girlie-girl.”  Now a worldly animal expert, she tells of her transformation in her new book, “Pink Boots and a Machete: My Journey From NFL Cheerleader to National Geographic Explorer.”

In an interview with CNN, Mayor talked about her adventures of bio-diverse animals and dangerous places.

The greater the biodiversity implies the greater the health of the ecosystem.

Her favorite expedition so far has been “Expedition Africa,” where she spent time with Western Lowland Gorillas in Congo and trekked across Tanzania.  “Expedition Africa” is a reality show based on Henry Morton Stanley‘s search for Dr. David Livingstone.

Tarantulas are common in Mayor’s travels.  Tarantulas aren’t big on people, so the best thing to do when near a tarantula is just be aware.  In South America, Mayor amused the locals by letting a tarantula crawl from her hand, up her arm to the top of her head.

Mayor survived a plane crash in the Congo, which changed her disposition on airplanes.  Now a nervous flier, she has trouble falling asleep on airplanes, but she doesn’t let it deter her from her passion.  Since surviving the plane crash, she told CNN, she hopes that she “beat the odds and will never experience another.”

CNN asked Mayor if she enjoyed traveling to domestic places or if she found them boring.

Mayor replied, “Oh, no.  I still like my comforts and I still think that traveling domestically can be a lot of fun.”

Not having been to any cold places yet, Mayor has Antarctica and Alaska in her sights.

Source: CNN.com, Wikipedia