Samuel El Jackson is mad as hell and he's not gonna take it anymore.
Monkey fighting is just out of control in our friendly skies.
Below is that famous line from that famous flick we all know (but might not love) edited for your TV-viewing pleasure.
Please, indulge.
(Samuel El Jackson, tee hee. A pun)
Friday, April 24, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
I heart you, Earth
Instead of waxing lyrical about what I will do to improve my Mother Earth today, I made a smart-ass list. Wanna hear it? Here it goes.
"You say it's your Earth Day. It's my Earth Day, too."
"(You can't deny) A Woman's Earth."
"Dear Earth, what have you done for me lately?"
"This Earth is hot, hot, hot."
"I like to Earth Day, Earth Day."
"Hey World, my love for you is sustainable."
"There is cake in the break room for Earth Day and it tastes like dirt."
"Earth, you dirty girl. Have some class. It's your day."
"God is a deejay and he is spinnin' that Earth record so hard today."
"My styrofoam cup over-flowith with love for my Earth."
"Lets get ready to Earrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrth Daaaaaaaaaaaaay."
That concludes my pointless list wasting your time. Go Green!
Friday, April 17, 2009
Here's the story of a bad blogger
I'm still in Vegas. I'm not hired yet. Frustrating, yes, but I don't make the decisions, the rules or the doughnuts.
I'm the same girl as always, I just pay my student loans back now. It's like Maggie 2.0 plus a moderate-to-low interest rate.
If you want to read my random jibba jabba, follow me on Twitter (maggielillis). That's where I lurk as of late.
Here is a picture of my now three-legged god dog, Gus.
I'm the same girl as always, I just pay my student loans back now. It's like Maggie 2.0 plus a moderate-to-low interest rate.
If you want to read my random jibba jabba, follow me on Twitter (maggielillis). That's where I lurk as of late.
Here is a picture of my now three-legged god dog, Gus.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Worth more than 1,000 words.
Alternate captions for this magic moment in Britney Sprear's current stage show.
"A Cheetos sale?! I'm there."
"You never know when a spontaneous game of Whack-a-Mole will start."
"My umbrella is in the shop. This will do."
"Order in the court, ya'll."
"I couldn't remember if it was mallets or mullets that were big in Europe right now."
"Oops, I swatted it again."
"I got your crazy. No, I really do."
"Get this flamingo off me! Get this flamingo off me!"
"You're going to call Child Protective Services on this?!"
"What? This isn't a golf club?"
:Guys, look what I found in the loony bin!"
"Step right up! Test your strength (by listening to my music)!"
"A Cheetos sale?! I'm there."
"You never know when a spontaneous game of Whack-a-Mole will start."
"My umbrella is in the shop. This will do."
"Order in the court, ya'll."
"I couldn't remember if it was mallets or mullets that were big in Europe right now."
"Oops, I swatted it again."
"I got your crazy. No, I really do."
"Get this flamingo off me! Get this flamingo off me!"
"You're going to call Child Protective Services on this?!"
"What? This isn't a golf club?"
:Guys, look what I found in the loony bin!"
"Step right up! Test your strength (by listening to my music)!"
Thursday, February 12, 2009
In lieu of going to the gym, I'll stay reclined and blog.
I'm the best kind of comfortable right now. I'm warm, I'm satiated and my hair is swept up in a Pepples Flintstone ponytail. All I need is a puppy, a thunderstorm to keep me inside and some sort of beverage and I'd be set. A robot butler at my beck and call wouldn't hurt, either.
Well, blog, lots and little has happened since we last spoke. Here are some highlights.
1) I did pretty good in a beer pong tournament. I dressed like an iconic author.
2) I saw my dream Cirque de Soliel show with my dream date, Paige.
Turns out, all I needed was "Love."
It was outstanding in every way. I was sad to see Paige back to Michigan.
3) I went to a hardcore country bar. My friend said I looked like I was in a foreign country. I mean, I have listened to country music but I had never seen anything that intense.
I was enamored by the dancing. They just all knew what to do and kept going around and around and around and .... ACK. I was mesmerized.
4) The next night, we played bingo at one of the seedier casinos. We were two giggly girls among legions of focused players. But we adopted a mentor, Ann, who helped us keep our cards straight and bingos in a row. We could have used some good-luck trolls. Didn't bring home any cold hard cash or aging fellas. Lose, lose.
Note: The lovely visor is my editor's and rests on his desk. I felt it would be appropriate for a night of bingo and he happily let me borrow it.
5) Thanks to 32 inches of snow falling on Mt. Charleston, curiosity and resentment that I never learned the sport, I tried snowboarding.
I fell many, many times. Cursed myself many, many times. Couldn't get up many, many times. Thanked my wonderful friends for not leaving me to die many, many times.
Despite doing good things in my lesson and on the bunny hill, I got a little over-confident and paid dearly when I couldn't get off my butt on the intermediate hill.
It left me so sore, though. I felt like I had just stood there and allowed someone to smack me repeatedly with the smooth side of the board.
Verdict: Frustrating as it was, I want to go again. This time, I will know my limits and practice more on the easy hill.
6) Now for the saddest part of the post.
The only feline I have ever loved passed away Sunday. Babe, 1991-2009.
I already miss him napping on my stomach, begging for food and sauntering around the house. A big presence is missing. I have some other photos and videos of that little rascal but this will suffice.
There you go, a six-pack of updates. I wrote a lot of stories and drank a lot of pints in between but who cares about that?
I'm the best kind of comfortable right now. I'm warm, I'm satiated and my hair is swept up in a Pepples Flintstone ponytail. All I need is a puppy, a thunderstorm to keep me inside and some sort of beverage and I'd be set. A robot butler at my beck and call wouldn't hurt, either.
Well, blog, lots and little has happened since we last spoke. Here are some highlights.
1) I did pretty good in a beer pong tournament. I dressed like an iconic author.
2) I saw my dream Cirque de Soliel show with my dream date, Paige.
Turns out, all I needed was "Love."
It was outstanding in every way. I was sad to see Paige back to Michigan.
3) I went to a hardcore country bar. My friend said I looked like I was in a foreign country. I mean, I have listened to country music but I had never seen anything that intense.
I was enamored by the dancing. They just all knew what to do and kept going around and around and around and .... ACK. I was mesmerized.
4) The next night, we played bingo at one of the seedier casinos. We were two giggly girls among legions of focused players. But we adopted a mentor, Ann, who helped us keep our cards straight and bingos in a row. We could have used some good-luck trolls. Didn't bring home any cold hard cash or aging fellas. Lose, lose.
Note: The lovely visor is my editor's and rests on his desk. I felt it would be appropriate for a night of bingo and he happily let me borrow it.
5) Thanks to 32 inches of snow falling on Mt. Charleston, curiosity and resentment that I never learned the sport, I tried snowboarding.
I fell many, many times. Cursed myself many, many times. Couldn't get up many, many times. Thanked my wonderful friends for not leaving me to die many, many times.
Despite doing good things in my lesson and on the bunny hill, I got a little over-confident and paid dearly when I couldn't get off my butt on the intermediate hill.
It left me so sore, though. I felt like I had just stood there and allowed someone to smack me repeatedly with the smooth side of the board.
Verdict: Frustrating as it was, I want to go again. This time, I will know my limits and practice more on the easy hill.
6) Now for the saddest part of the post.
The only feline I have ever loved passed away Sunday. Babe, 1991-2009.
I already miss him napping on my stomach, begging for food and sauntering around the house. A big presence is missing. I have some other photos and videos of that little rascal but this will suffice.
There you go, a six-pack of updates. I wrote a lot of stories and drank a lot of pints in between but who cares about that?
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Oh I wish...
The Oscar Mayer Weinermobile rolled into my life last week and parked forever in my heart.
Back story: I worked at my college newspaper with a guy Derek, who is on a one-year stint behind the wheel one of the six weinermobiles, or WMBs as they say. They do promotions, pedal weiny whistles and get to drive all over select regions of the country in that trademark ride. Our mutual friend Pete flew into Vegas to hang out with Derek while they were in town and that's where our story begins.
Sunday, Jan. 4
I had hung out with Pete, Derek and his fellow "Hot Dogger" Alana a few times that weekend but had yet to meet the WMB in person. When I feasted my eyes on that 20-foot ode to Americana, I knew it would be quite the ride.
They even let me ride "shot bun."
It's a six seater with big windows, sun roof and cloud sky above. It has a killer turn radius, normal CD player and no food. That was a bit of a buzzkill.
But the magic is what happens on the outside. You can literally watch people try to compute what they are seeing when the WMB rolls by. And let me tell you, when it all connects, they lose their ever-livin' minds. Cameras are hoisted, shouts hollered and befuddled expressions are common.
I was more interested in the people who were totally unaffected by us when we were driving down the Strip. Las Vegas Boulevard is over-stimulation central, I guess.
We tried to go into the shooting range but it was closing (shoot?) as we arrived. That didn't stop the staffers to flood outside to take a look.
After dolling out some weiny whistles, we went to my favorite tacky diner, The Peppermill, which isn't in the greatest of spots on the Strip. Derek jokingly asked if we'd come out of the restaurant and find the Weinymobile on blocks. Of course not, I half-heartedly promised.
So we ate, got a little discount for bringing the wait staff weiny whistles (I swear those are like currency) and went to head out. Four people were gathered around the WMB, taking pictures and generally freaking out. They were four 20-somethings and so were we so we let them do their thing.
Until one guy tried to climb on the bun. Not OK.
Alana went complete Rambo and grabbed him by the puffy coat screaming "Get off my Weinermobile." I think he figured she was joking and just started jumping around her screaming "Weinymobile, Weinymobile, Weinymobile" and getting in her face. It was terrifying.
She pushed him off long enough for us to scramble inside and lock ourselves in. That guy started banging on the windows and yelling some more. We were safe inside the Weinermobile. I will never be able to say that again in my life.
As we drove away recounting events, Pete made the statement of the night — "There really is no authoritative way to say 'Get off my Weinermobile.'" Well put.
What was a great life experience also involved one of the spookiest moments ever, so there is that. And I didn't even have to sing the song to get my own weiny whistle.
Back story: I worked at my college newspaper with a guy Derek, who is on a one-year stint behind the wheel one of the six weinermobiles, or WMBs as they say. They do promotions, pedal weiny whistles and get to drive all over select regions of the country in that trademark ride. Our mutual friend Pete flew into Vegas to hang out with Derek while they were in town and that's where our story begins.
Sunday, Jan. 4
I had hung out with Pete, Derek and his fellow "Hot Dogger" Alana a few times that weekend but had yet to meet the WMB in person. When I feasted my eyes on that 20-foot ode to Americana, I knew it would be quite the ride.
They even let me ride "shot bun."
It's a six seater with big windows, sun roof and cloud sky above. It has a killer turn radius, normal CD player and no food. That was a bit of a buzzkill.
But the magic is what happens on the outside. You can literally watch people try to compute what they are seeing when the WMB rolls by. And let me tell you, when it all connects, they lose their ever-livin' minds. Cameras are hoisted, shouts hollered and befuddled expressions are common.
I was more interested in the people who were totally unaffected by us when we were driving down the Strip. Las Vegas Boulevard is over-stimulation central, I guess.
We tried to go into the shooting range but it was closing (shoot?) as we arrived. That didn't stop the staffers to flood outside to take a look.
After dolling out some weiny whistles, we went to my favorite tacky diner, The Peppermill, which isn't in the greatest of spots on the Strip. Derek jokingly asked if we'd come out of the restaurant and find the Weinymobile on blocks. Of course not, I half-heartedly promised.
So we ate, got a little discount for bringing the wait staff weiny whistles (I swear those are like currency) and went to head out. Four people were gathered around the WMB, taking pictures and generally freaking out. They were four 20-somethings and so were we so we let them do their thing.
Until one guy tried to climb on the bun. Not OK.
Alana went complete Rambo and grabbed him by the puffy coat screaming "Get off my Weinermobile." I think he figured she was joking and just started jumping around her screaming "Weinymobile, Weinymobile, Weinymobile" and getting in her face. It was terrifying.
She pushed him off long enough for us to scramble inside and lock ourselves in. That guy started banging on the windows and yelling some more. We were safe inside the Weinermobile. I will never be able to say that again in my life.
As we drove away recounting events, Pete made the statement of the night — "There really is no authoritative way to say 'Get off my Weinermobile.'" Well put.
What was a great life experience also involved one of the spookiest moments ever, so there is that. And I didn't even have to sing the song to get my own weiny whistle.
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