bones DO SO fucking float

The Engineer finally managed to get me to go see Pirates of the Caribbean with him this evening (and I, of course, had him sucker Robin into going with us-can't be miserable alone).

All I have to say is: he owes me big time.

I had no desire whatsoever to see this movie. Go ahead and hang me as a heretic, all of you. I know that a large number of my friends list are POTC freaks. I don't care. *snf* It just didn't appeal to me.

Robin and I behaved ourselves remarkably throughout the ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY FOUR MINUTE film. Well, up until the last 15 minutes when we couldn't stop making snarky whispered comments to each other.

It had its good points, I suppose. But, I really dislike seeing such a well tanned Johnny Depp wearing more eyeliner then I ever did in my Death from Sandman phase in high school. I also HATE Orlando Bloom with a passion rivalling Hitler's distaste for the Jews.

Conversation between the Engineer and I during the movie:

me: Will you buy me a monkey for my birthday?
him: Sure!
me: Okay.

Ten minutes later.

me: But, it has to be a zombie monkey.
him: No problem.
me: And I'm going to name him Zombo.

Ten more minutes later.

me: The monkey also has to be wearing clothes.
him: SSSHHHH!

Ten more minutes later.

me: Why are the zombie pirates on the bottom of the ocean? Wouldn't they float?
him: There's no air left in them to float. Now be quiet.
me: Yeah, but bones float!
*part with Orlando Bloom being a big pouncy jackass happens*
me: Homo.
Robin: He's on YOUR team, Tara!
me: Yeah, but remember the cross dressing zombie pirates? THEY'RE ON YOUR TEAM.
The Engineer: SSSHHHH!

The 'he's on your team' thing between Robin and I erupted last week out of conversation about something she and her high school friends used to do. Picking stupid people that they see out in public to be on each other's teams. Only you can't pick your own team, you can only pick your friend's team members. So, Robin and I have started doing this with much glee. We usually wind up picking people for the Engineer's team, most of the time. He refuses to play this game, I might add.

I can't wait to get my zombie monkey named Zombo, though. I'll make him fetch me things. I'll be like "Zombo! Go in the kitchen and get me a Coke!" And he'll be all cute in his little waistcoat and pants.

And it'll rule.
RULE, I tell you!

If I could possibly swing a zombie ring tailed lemur, that would especially rock. But, I'm not going to wish for the impossible. That would be just plain silliness.

Tomorrow I am going to conduct my experiment in the kitchen to find out if bones actually do float. If I am wrong, then I will fully admit that I was wrong. If I am right however, I am going to be quite triumphant. Expect photos documenting this.

Zombo! Bring me the remote control!

ooof.

I am the exhausted.

I just got done helping my mother tear apart the living room and the kitchen, rearranging almost everything contained therein. The living space is a lot more hospitable now. And I don't bump my hip on the fucking overstuffed chair anymore when I walk past it. Thank goodness, because I was really getting tired of that shit.

My computer desk has been moved, which I mentioned wanting to do before, against the wall. So now the monitor faces the living room, rather then the window. HAHA on my brother who can now no longer download pr0n while the rest of us are in the living room.

*point, laugh*

Now I get to sit here, in a relative stupor, drinking a Coke (without enough goddamn ice in it and which was not brought to me by a zombie monkey named Zombo) and zoning out.

I am also bemoaning the state of my LJ account (which has not been of the paid variety since I lost my job in June) and trying to decide what I want to do tonight. Side note, on the subject of paid accounts: It is really BALLS STUPID that LJ discontinued the phone pay style of buying paid time. That was the easiest and best way for me to buy paid time and now it doesn't exist anymore. Jerks. The jerky kind of jerks, I might add.