Carnivorous Vampires and Emotional Strippers

On a recent trip to visit a friend in St. Louis, I had the pleasure of enjoying two (not surprisingly) bad movies. Renee (who has a wonderful blog about literature and writing) and I rented: Twilight’s Breaking Dawn: Part 1 and Magic Mike. Since freshman year of college, Renee and I have enjoyed a tradition of watching the Twilight movies together and laughing at how obscenely awful they are. So we were excited to catch up on our least favorite saga. And Magic Mike? We’d actually heard good things about it, and we’re not the type to turn down semi-nude male dancing.

And you know what? Twilight turned out to be both the more entertaining and more disturbing movie.

During Twilight:

Me: Oh man. Here comes the sex scene of the year.

Renee: Why is she crying in her underwear?

Me: She doesn’t want to do it!

Renee: She looks like she’s going to throw up.

Me: Did she just tell herself not to be a coward? That’s a good message.

Renee: Is this a movie for pre-teen girls!?

 . . . later

Me: Her baby’s going to die.

Renee: Edward wouldn’t let that happen.

Me: There’s nothing they can do tho—

Me & Renee: HE’S EATING THROUGH HER STOMACH!

During Magic Mike:

Me: Is it just me, or is this kinda boring?

Renee: [Snoring]

Me: And depressing?

Renee: [Crying]

Me: Where’s all the dancing? I was promised good, clean, family fun!

Renee: Want to fast-forward to the dancing parts?

Me: Yep.

In conclusion, I whole-heartedly recommend Breaking Dawn: Part 1 to no one, especially not impressionable young girls. And I give two thumbs way, way up to Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s Magic Mike parody—not Magic Mike itself.  

And as I was linking the video to JGL's dance, I had to defend myself to my boyfriend:

Yes, I'm watching it again. 

Everything But the Bird

I’m a pescetarian. That’s a fancy word for saying “I eat fish, but no other kinds of meat.” It’s a “fancy word” because when I say “pescetarian” instead of “vegetarian,” I usually get a blank stare. Or a moment of silence where people look up “pescetarian” on their phones.

And it’s the time of year that everyone starts to take pity on me. “Oh, you don’t eat turkey? What do you eat at Thanksgiving? I can’t imagine a Thanksgiving without turkey! Do you even get enough to eat over the holidays?”

YES. And I’ll tell you what I eat at Thanksgiving. EVERYTHING BUT THE BIRD. So stop feeling so sorry for me! I feel bad for you. With all that bird in your belly, there’s less room for pie. While you’re sleeping off the tryptophan, I’m shoveling down the pumpkin, apple, and cherry goodness like it’s nobody’s business. And when you wake up, you’ll realize how foolish you were to pity my five-hundred-pound ass.

And the pie will be gone.

Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving full of bird and/or pie. 

Apartment of Leaves

Did you ever read a book that seriously scared you? Stephen King haunts my childhood (nice parenting skills, Dad!). I’ve long since gotten over my fear of resurrected animals and evil vintage Plymouths, but the book I’m reading right now has awaken a new level of paranoia.

House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski is fairly complicated to explain—but (generally) it's about a family that moves into a house only to discover that the inside of the house is much larger than the outside.

So while the neighbor's vacuum used to mean "Hey, the neighbor's vacuuming," it now means "A black hole is about to open up in the middle of my living room floor."

Before

A drunk person outside: “Please don’t throw up on the stairs. I have to walk down those in the morning.”

After

A drunk person outside: [Silent, wide-eyed terror] “He’s got a gun, and he’s going to shoot me in the forehead and leave a giant, bloody stain on the carpet.”

Before

Wind making moaning sounds: “Shut up.”

After

Wind making moaning sounds: “Oh my god. The apartment is building onto itself. And I don’t think it’s building a walk-in closet.”

Before

Airplane flying overhead: “Wonder where they’re traveling to/from.”

After

Airplane flying overhead: “Something at the foot of your bed is GROWLING. If you don’t move, it won’t see you. And then it can’t rip your throat out.”

I guess the fact that it's making me this crazy says a lot about the book. I think the main reason it’s so frightening is because it feels so real. What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever read?

By the way, I made a Humor Her Facebook page for you to like so you can stay up-to-date with blog posts. Shanks, guys and gals.

Procreate for the Right Reasons

Having kids has never really appealed to me. I just don’t think I’ll ever be able to give up impromptu movie marathons, traveling, or late-night reading. Or sleep. Yeah, I’d like to maintain a healthy relationship with sleep. But it’s been brought to my attention that there are three perfectly legitimate reasons to procreate.

1. Candy: Unfortunately, you can’t get away with trick-or-treating after a certain age. If I had kids, I’d convince them that the Great Pumpkin gobbles up children who don’t share with their parents.

2. Toys: For some reason, when toys show up on my Christmas wish list, my grandmother thinks I’m joking. Anything with a choking hazard, like, say, a Monster High Doll, would be MINE. It’s called being a responsible mom.

3. Playgrounds: Having a kid at a playground is marginally more acceptable than fighting over a swing with someone else’s five-year-old.

It’d be totally worth all the diaper changes and temper tantrums, right?