After a helluva day yesterday (two 3-hour classes, 5 conferences with students, and an observation by my Boss Lady), today was a Good Day.
The radio on the drive today was good to me. Here's a guessing game:
How Many of the Following Lyrics are from Country Songs?
"Your love ain't just the hot sauce, it's the whole enchilada."
"The weekend's here and it's paycheck Friday, people, let's get drunk and be somebody!"
"And I'll hang around as long as you let me ... and I don't mind standing in the rain."
Answer: C'mon now. You know the answer.
So, the Utility Bill came today? And, it was, like, almost a hunnert dollars? And I was like, ouch, muthafuckas? So, now I am sitting in my 64 degree living room to combat big bills. I am 2 seconds from buckling. Must ... have ... 68 ... degrees ...
I'm the littlest bit drunk because it's Tuesday. And on Tuesdays, me, Bridge, Annie, & Marcia head to Pro's for delicious Coyote Chips. Since we meet all the other Senior Citizens for the Early Bird Special, tap beers are a buck. Hellz to the yeah. Over dinner, we found out that Microsoft Sam does not recognize Missy Elliot's "cho-cha."
Go figure.
Tomorrow begins Phase One of my interview process for the SuFu position. I am meeting with EH for a chat. Well, EH keeps calling it a chat and CE keeps calling it an interview. I think I will call it, "please stop because my tiny veins can't take this extreme nervousness anymore." Marcia says I need to dress up (the iron is heating up), and Annie says I should show up drunk. Thanks a lot, Annie.
And, I don't wanna brag or anything, but I have a state fleet in my driveway (a Taurus, that's right), so if anyone wants to go cruise Main, let me know.
And you don't have to call me darlin', Darlin'. You never even call me by my name.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Saturday, February 24, 2007
A Sweet, Soft, Southern Thrill
I've been listening to Alabama lots lately, and those bearded boys in their football jerseys and jeans just hit my heart ... they just hit my heart.
I'm a little sick today--a head/chest/allergy thing cold, I think. In the grand scheme of things, though, that doesn't matter, because Patrick Dempsey is going to be OK.
I just got back from Wal-Mart where I stocked up on medicine, and then to make myself feel better, I bought new socks. And, I stood in Home Entertainment forever almost buying a PlayStation 3 so I can rock it to "Guitar Hero" (have you played this? Seriously, I'm obsessed). Instead, I found Season 3 of "Reno 911" and that is just as exciting. I saw P-Block in Wally World with adorable Daughter #1, and we talked about religion. Same old, same old.
Bridge has left me-gone North to find a better woman. She'll come back, though, they always do. Plus, she's picking me up some new jeans, so she better get back here at some point.
It's hard out here for a pimp.
I kind of want to spend lots of money online today. I want things to be shipped to my house in big boxes. And I want to forget what it is I have ordered so I am surprised over and over again.
I want something new.
Water is heating up now for some Theraflu, which tastes terrible, but seems to do the trick. In three seconds, I will put in "Reno 911" and wrap myself up on the couch.
As always, the door is open.
(I was about to hit "publish" when it started hailing out. Oh no you didn't.)
I'm a little sick today--a head/chest/allergy thing cold, I think. In the grand scheme of things, though, that doesn't matter, because Patrick Dempsey is going to be OK.
I just got back from Wal-Mart where I stocked up on medicine, and then to make myself feel better, I bought new socks. And, I stood in Home Entertainment forever almost buying a PlayStation 3 so I can rock it to "Guitar Hero" (have you played this? Seriously, I'm obsessed). Instead, I found Season 3 of "Reno 911" and that is just as exciting. I saw P-Block in Wally World with adorable Daughter #1, and we talked about religion. Same old, same old.
Bridge has left me-gone North to find a better woman. She'll come back, though, they always do. Plus, she's picking me up some new jeans, so she better get back here at some point.
It's hard out here for a pimp.
I kind of want to spend lots of money online today. I want things to be shipped to my house in big boxes. And I want to forget what it is I have ordered so I am surprised over and over again.
I want something new.
Water is heating up now for some Theraflu, which tastes terrible, but seems to do the trick. In three seconds, I will put in "Reno 911" and wrap myself up on the couch.
As always, the door is open.
(I was about to hit "publish" when it started hailing out. Oh no you didn't.)
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Hard Pressed
I'm hard on things.
My car.
Cracked windshield; I burn through brakes.
When I cough,
it comes from deep and hurts.
My shoulders wrack.
My ears.
I need something on loud.
And all the time.
So loud I don't even notice my hearing fade.
Toothbrushes.
The brush clenched in my fist
as I scrub and scrub
the well-water fluoride I was raised on away.
I am always buying
a new toothbrush,
one that doesn't have
splayed, fringed bristles.
I get mad and my jaw sets and juts.
Hard and German.
Shoes.
Scuffed and worn through,
plastic pokes through the heel and still,
I walk every town block in them.
My eyes.
I will read and read and read
even when the light is gone and
the words overlap each other.
I'm hard on my brother.
He is a wonderful, brave man and why
do I need to remind myself of this?
Still, he's the first one
I look to when I can no longer
do it on my own. He's never
hard on me.
It seems I am always leaving
debris in my wake.
Maybe that's why you give me
such
wide berth.
My car.
Cracked windshield; I burn through brakes.
When I cough,
it comes from deep and hurts.
My shoulders wrack.
My ears.
I need something on loud.
And all the time.
So loud I don't even notice my hearing fade.
Toothbrushes.
The brush clenched in my fist
as I scrub and scrub
the well-water fluoride I was raised on away.
I am always buying
a new toothbrush,
one that doesn't have
splayed, fringed bristles.
I get mad and my jaw sets and juts.
Hard and German.
Shoes.
Scuffed and worn through,
plastic pokes through the heel and still,
I walk every town block in them.
My eyes.
I will read and read and read
even when the light is gone and
the words overlap each other.
I'm hard on my brother.
He is a wonderful, brave man and why
do I need to remind myself of this?
Still, he's the first one
I look to when I can no longer
do it on my own. He's never
hard on me.
It seems I am always leaving
debris in my wake.
Maybe that's why you give me
such
wide berth.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Let the Good Times Roll
Lunch with my buds Matt and Clif at Viejo on Thursday, where I gained the nickname, "Bird Dawg."
Lunch my buds Alex, Vani, and Bridge at Viejo on Friday.
Is it possible to OD on Viejo? I didn’t want to believe it, but yes. I think so. Until next week, of course, when I will be begging all of you to meet me for muy delicioso chips y salsa a Viejo.
Lunch on Saturday at Chae’s with Bridge and her mom. Whenever I leave Chae's, I always think of a short story by Augusten Burroughs where he writes about this tofu, rice, lentil dish his partner makes and they call it, "Lesbian Expander," because:
a.) only a lesbian would cook something like that
b.) their stomachs swell from all the rice.
And so, I leave Chae's and think "oohh ... rice ... expanding ... lesbian expander!" And then I say to myself in my Hulk voice, "Lindy angry!"
And I wonder why I’ve gained 8,197 pounds since coming back to Vtown.
I’ve been hunkered down at the Coffee Shop grading, and have been visited by many, many lovely people. Got together with Laura and Co. for a fun, Leinenkugel-filled evening recently. Went for an awesome walk all through town, (and I’ve got these new street shoes that have the tiniest bit of heel on them, and they make an exceptionally cool, hollow sound when I walk, and this makes me very happy, which causes me to take extra long strides and swing my arms in a purposeful fashion) and shoveled the drive.
Again.
You know, when we first moved in to this house, I was totally gung-ho about painting and raking and shoveling and putting together bookshelves and all that. And I still like that stuff. I do. But, I gotta say, I am so over shoveling.
Our (ridiculously huge, but I was first kinda excited about it because of all the parking possibilities, but now I’ve come to understand that driveways are for suckas) driveway is beginning to look like a freakin’ Olympic Luge tunnel. I would almost like to carve into the built up sides and make some sort of relief. When I worked on the trail crew for the Forest Service a few summers ago, we used to carve faces and words into the sandstone walls of Badland switchbacks. Since the medium was sandstone, though, and since North Dakota is all sky and wind, our work would be washed away the next time we were back to work that particular trail.
Now, though, there is just no more physical space for the snow to be shoveled on to. It is just not possible for it to snow anymore. I’m sorry—it’s not.
I met some friends, and some new international friends, dtown for karaoke—or just for the sheer pleasure of watching all the American Idol hopefuls massacre Fiona Apple. Over and over and over. When we got to The Eagles, there was a 30th birthday bash for someone named Amy, who I am pretty sure is The Amy of Amy’s Whoopti Do Hair Salon. Anyways, there were all these abrasive, drunk 30 year olds in Mom jeans belting out Gretchen Wilson songs. Don’t get me wrong, I know plenty of women over 30, over 40, over 50, who are mind-blowing, but these women? I don’t know, they were just really aggressive and defensive about the fact that they were 30—they kept grabbing the mic and yelling, “yeah, we’re fuckin’ 30 and you better love it.” Um, okay. Please don’t body check me with your mom-jeaned hips. I whispered to Alex, “If my 30th birthday bash is like this, please plant a high heel into my temple.” She swore she would.
Sara K lent us the documentary, Wordplay, and We. Are. Currently. Fascinated.
After watching it, I dug out some old Argus Leaders from the recycling pile (and let me tell you, I’m a little indignant about recycling, but that’s another story), and tried to do some crosswords in under 2 minutes. A slight glitch, though, as I kept reading the word, “polish” as “Polish” (like the nationality) and I was all, “I don’t know what they call poetry in Poland!” Turns out, the answer was “edit.” Go figure.
Monday is President's Day! Bridge, Alex, and I (and maybe Vani and Matt) are heading to Omaha so I can stare at the orangutan!
Hey, all my smart New Mexico friends—welcome back! I hope you had a fab time! But I missed you!
Lunch my buds Alex, Vani, and Bridge at Viejo on Friday.
Is it possible to OD on Viejo? I didn’t want to believe it, but yes. I think so. Until next week, of course, when I will be begging all of you to meet me for muy delicioso chips y salsa a Viejo.
Lunch on Saturday at Chae’s with Bridge and her mom. Whenever I leave Chae's, I always think of a short story by Augusten Burroughs where he writes about this tofu, rice, lentil dish his partner makes and they call it, "Lesbian Expander," because:
a.) only a lesbian would cook something like that
b.) their stomachs swell from all the rice.
And so, I leave Chae's and think "oohh ... rice ... expanding ... lesbian expander!" And then I say to myself in my Hulk voice, "Lindy angry!"
And I wonder why I’ve gained 8,197 pounds since coming back to Vtown.
I’ve been hunkered down at the Coffee Shop grading, and have been visited by many, many lovely people. Got together with Laura and Co. for a fun, Leinenkugel-filled evening recently. Went for an awesome walk all through town, (and I’ve got these new street shoes that have the tiniest bit of heel on them, and they make an exceptionally cool, hollow sound when I walk, and this makes me very happy, which causes me to take extra long strides and swing my arms in a purposeful fashion) and shoveled the drive.
Again.
You know, when we first moved in to this house, I was totally gung-ho about painting and raking and shoveling and putting together bookshelves and all that. And I still like that stuff. I do. But, I gotta say, I am so over shoveling.
Our (ridiculously huge, but I was first kinda excited about it because of all the parking possibilities, but now I’ve come to understand that driveways are for suckas) driveway is beginning to look like a freakin’ Olympic Luge tunnel. I would almost like to carve into the built up sides and make some sort of relief. When I worked on the trail crew for the Forest Service a few summers ago, we used to carve faces and words into the sandstone walls of Badland switchbacks. Since the medium was sandstone, though, and since North Dakota is all sky and wind, our work would be washed away the next time we were back to work that particular trail.
Now, though, there is just no more physical space for the snow to be shoveled on to. It is just not possible for it to snow anymore. I’m sorry—it’s not.
I met some friends, and some new international friends, dtown for karaoke—or just for the sheer pleasure of watching all the American Idol hopefuls massacre Fiona Apple. Over and over and over. When we got to The Eagles, there was a 30th birthday bash for someone named Amy, who I am pretty sure is The Amy of Amy’s Whoopti Do Hair Salon. Anyways, there were all these abrasive, drunk 30 year olds in Mom jeans belting out Gretchen Wilson songs. Don’t get me wrong, I know plenty of women over 30, over 40, over 50, who are mind-blowing, but these women? I don’t know, they were just really aggressive and defensive about the fact that they were 30—they kept grabbing the mic and yelling, “yeah, we’re fuckin’ 30 and you better love it.” Um, okay. Please don’t body check me with your mom-jeaned hips. I whispered to Alex, “If my 30th birthday bash is like this, please plant a high heel into my temple.” She swore she would.
Sara K lent us the documentary, Wordplay, and We. Are. Currently. Fascinated.
After watching it, I dug out some old Argus Leaders from the recycling pile (and let me tell you, I’m a little indignant about recycling, but that’s another story), and tried to do some crosswords in under 2 minutes. A slight glitch, though, as I kept reading the word, “polish” as “Polish” (like the nationality) and I was all, “I don’t know what they call poetry in Poland!” Turns out, the answer was “edit.” Go figure.
Monday is President's Day! Bridge, Alex, and I (and maybe Vani and Matt) are heading to Omaha so I can stare at the orangutan!
Hey, all my smart New Mexico friends—welcome back! I hope you had a fab time! But I missed you!
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
the rainbow connection
(hey, did anyone else see the rainbow today? when i turned on to highway 50 late this afternooon, i had to rub my eyes and blink hard to make sure i wasn't seeing things. it stood like two pillars at the entrance of vermillion.)
(i've never seen a rainbow in february before.)
(i've never seen a rainbow in february before.)
Sunday, February 11, 2007
The Secret Lives of Catholic Girls
We (and you know who you are) are rockstars.
Oy.
I may have overdone it last night, as I am only right now starting to feel like a normal human being, but it was totally worth it. Totally. Drinking, singing, coveted dance moves, laughing, hair and hands and laughing bursts and open-mouthed smiles. These women I know are too much fun.
I love Saturday nights in small towns.
A recap, in list form:
People Who Call Me Sir:
3 year old boys
Wal-Mart greeters
My So-Called Life, or What We Talked About, The High School Edition:
*Prom
*Yearbooks
*Senior Pictures (because these are things we do; we lean against trees, we gaze contemplatively, we lie in leaves)
*Sisters Judith Ann and Ruth Ann
*Lesbians. Gross!
Shots We Slugged:
*Southern Peaches
*Slippery Nipples
*Viagra
Songs Sang at Karaoke:
*No Scrubs
*Walk Like an Egyptian
*Creep
*Only the Good Die Young
*Mercedes Benz
"Out of Context Theatre:"
"You could eat peanut butter out of her dimples."
"That is that dude's brother."
"It's time for vodka."
"I'll give you the ass, but inner thigh massage? C'mon now."
"Oh my god, put your arm around me. NOW. Pretend I'm your girlfriend."
"Oh no ... I made eye contact."
Times I Threw Up Once Home:
*Once.
*Wait, wait. Fuck.
*Twice.
*I am embarassed.
How I Felt at Mass This Morning:
*Sinful
*Ashamed
*Hungry
*Annoyed by Sister Susan, the guest speaker
*Shaky
*Excited about hymn choices
*A little turned on. I'm not gonna lie.
Oy.
I may have overdone it last night, as I am only right now starting to feel like a normal human being, but it was totally worth it. Totally. Drinking, singing, coveted dance moves, laughing, hair and hands and laughing bursts and open-mouthed smiles. These women I know are too much fun.
I love Saturday nights in small towns.
A recap, in list form:
People Who Call Me Sir:
3 year old boys
Wal-Mart greeters
My So-Called Life, or What We Talked About, The High School Edition:
*Prom
*Yearbooks
*Senior Pictures (because these are things we do; we lean against trees, we gaze contemplatively, we lie in leaves)
*Sisters Judith Ann and Ruth Ann
*Lesbians. Gross!
Shots We Slugged:
*Southern Peaches
*Slippery Nipples
*Viagra
Songs Sang at Karaoke:
*No Scrubs
*Walk Like an Egyptian
*Creep
*Only the Good Die Young
*Mercedes Benz
"Out of Context Theatre:"
"You could eat peanut butter out of her dimples."
"That is that dude's brother."
"It's time for vodka."
"I'll give you the ass, but inner thigh massage? C'mon now."
"Oh my god, put your arm around me. NOW. Pretend I'm your girlfriend."
"Oh no ... I made eye contact."
Times I Threw Up Once Home:
*Once.
*Wait, wait. Fuck.
*Twice.
*I am embarassed.
How I Felt at Mass This Morning:
*Sinful
*Ashamed
*Hungry
*Annoyed by Sister Susan, the guest speaker
*Shaky
*Excited about hymn choices
*A little turned on. I'm not gonna lie.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Feedback
Favorite song on the drive today:
TIE between Tammy Wynette's "Stand by Your Man" and "My Girl" by The Temptations.
Mmm, mm! Love me that twang and those choreographed snaps.
Least fave song on the drive that I listened to in its entirety anyways, God help me: "My Love" by Justin Timberlake.
Enough with the falsetto, bro.
I really like when I put on a pair of jeans and I have to do lunges and squats for a half hour to breathe normally.
Picture this: I'm usually bouncing on the balls of my feet, knees completely bent like a Russian Cossack.
Hey! (clap) Hey! (clap)
This makes me feel good about myself.
Bridge says I shouldn't dry my jeans on Hi/Cotton anymore, but I think she's just being tactfully nice.
I have a phone interview for the SuFu position on Friday. All the people on the hiring commitee are people I have drank with in one capacity or another. That's pretty weird. I'm nervous, and told CE that, and he said, as usual, "Good! You should be nervous!"
Really, Papi? Really? (I should start calling CE Papi. Ha!)
I went to Open Mike's tonight to watch my fave boyband of all time "The Four Horsemen and the Apocalypse." I sat with Annie and Marcia and Clif and drank Sunset Wheat and secondhand smoked Eric's Winstons.
(Oh yeah, and I'm done smoking. Again. I just hate the way it feels when I wake up the next morning, but I love it so much at bars! I'm having a bit of an internal struggle, but hopefully, the walk of shame-esque feeling I get the morning after will be enough to deter me. Now, though, that I've actually proclaimed that I am done smoking, I damn well better be. I would hate to lose face.)
Back to Open Mike's. It was a pretty swell time--the boys played "Mmmbop," and I was totally stoked. Still not sure what Twenter's role is in the band (he's a little like Puffy), but they are a freaking trip to watch.
It's bedtime now. I just started Lois-Ann Yamanaka's Name Me Nobody again and that makes me very happy.
I want to have lunch. But not right now. Tomorrow. At lunch time.
Anybody?
TIE between Tammy Wynette's "Stand by Your Man" and "My Girl" by The Temptations.
Mmm, mm! Love me that twang and those choreographed snaps.
Least fave song on the drive that I listened to in its entirety anyways, God help me: "My Love" by Justin Timberlake.
Enough with the falsetto, bro.
I really like when I put on a pair of jeans and I have to do lunges and squats for a half hour to breathe normally.
Picture this: I'm usually bouncing on the balls of my feet, knees completely bent like a Russian Cossack.
Hey! (clap) Hey! (clap)
This makes me feel good about myself.
Bridge says I shouldn't dry my jeans on Hi/Cotton anymore, but I think she's just being tactfully nice.
I have a phone interview for the SuFu position on Friday. All the people on the hiring commitee are people I have drank with in one capacity or another. That's pretty weird. I'm nervous, and told CE that, and he said, as usual, "Good! You should be nervous!"
Really, Papi? Really? (I should start calling CE Papi. Ha!)
I went to Open Mike's tonight to watch my fave boyband of all time "The Four Horsemen and the Apocalypse." I sat with Annie and Marcia and Clif and drank Sunset Wheat and secondhand smoked Eric's Winstons.
(Oh yeah, and I'm done smoking. Again. I just hate the way it feels when I wake up the next morning, but I love it so much at bars! I'm having a bit of an internal struggle, but hopefully, the walk of shame-esque feeling I get the morning after will be enough to deter me. Now, though, that I've actually proclaimed that I am done smoking, I damn well better be. I would hate to lose face.)
Back to Open Mike's. It was a pretty swell time--the boys played "Mmmbop," and I was totally stoked. Still not sure what Twenter's role is in the band (he's a little like Puffy), but they are a freaking trip to watch.
It's bedtime now. I just started Lois-Ann Yamanaka's Name Me Nobody again and that makes me very happy.
I want to have lunch. But not right now. Tomorrow. At lunch time.
Anybody?
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Monster Truck Nationals!
Have nothing to do with this blog, except I saw it advertised at The Tyson Events Center in Sioux City. And, also, my folks used to take us to Monster Truck shows in Bismarck. Pretty sure I was sportin' my spike at that time. (I took being a tomboy to the Xtreme).
Here's another billboard I saw on the way to Sioux City:
"Over 250 Loose Slots.
(You're Bound to Get Lucky.)"
Am I taking this the wrong way, or is this about the dirtiest thing you've ever read on a highway sign?
Hmmm ...
Yeah, we soujourned to Sioux City on Saturday to do some shopping. Bridget was deadset on buying a vaccuum and I just want a freakin' pair of new jeans, for God's sake. Is that too much to ask? Hey, did you know it is now swimsuit season?
Swimsuits?? WTF, mate?
Grrr ... The only pair of jeans I like and that apparently fit me are Old Navy bootcut jeans. But, only the light wash. The medium wash fits weird, and the dark wash even weirder. How is this possible? Whatev. I'll just wear the pair I have until they are threadbare, I guess.
Awesome Things I Enjoyed This Weekend:
*Impromptu dance party with Annie and Marcia after Grey's Anatomy on Thursday. It just feels so empty Without Me.
*Watching Katy belittle ugly boy at Carey's with zero manners and even worse social skills.
*Hanging out at the Coffee Shop with Mary, Al, and Katy for 59 hours.
*Getting a haircut. But only a trim. I'm now growing it out. Until I change my mind in about 47 seconds.
After Bridge and I got back from Sioux City, Sara K came over to peddle a Mandolin on our doorstep. She wanted to sell hers, and if it has strings and makes noise, chances are, Bridget will buy it. She looked at the chords for mandolin for about .09 seconds and now she knows how to play the mandolin.
I'm still struggling with cursive G's.
Also (and this will blow your mind), we rented Snakes on a Plane. Fuck yeah, man.
Here are Things You Will Definitely Say When You See Snakes on a Plane:
"Don’t you cry, Samuel L. Jackson."
"Stupid dumb fire-eating snakes."
"The snake ate his head. The snake ate his head!
"That one doesn’t have teeth in real life."
"Ooh, a sidewinder."
"Is that a harpoon gun?"
"This movie is really about racial brotherhood."
"The sequel tagline: We gotta get these motherfuckin snakes outta this motherfuckin warehouse in the desert."
"This is ridiculous."
"He had a knife the whole time?"
"You don’t have no friend names polio."
"We gotta get these motherfuckin sharks outta the motherfuckin ocean."
"Isn’t it cool how the snakes only killed the fat, ugly, annoying, bad people and saved all the pretties?"
Here's another billboard I saw on the way to Sioux City:
"Over 250 Loose Slots.
(You're Bound to Get Lucky.)"
Am I taking this the wrong way, or is this about the dirtiest thing you've ever read on a highway sign?
Hmmm ...
Yeah, we soujourned to Sioux City on Saturday to do some shopping. Bridget was deadset on buying a vaccuum and I just want a freakin' pair of new jeans, for God's sake. Is that too much to ask? Hey, did you know it is now swimsuit season?
Swimsuits?? WTF, mate?
Grrr ... The only pair of jeans I like and that apparently fit me are Old Navy bootcut jeans. But, only the light wash. The medium wash fits weird, and the dark wash even weirder. How is this possible? Whatev. I'll just wear the pair I have until they are threadbare, I guess.
Awesome Things I Enjoyed This Weekend:
*Impromptu dance party with Annie and Marcia after Grey's Anatomy on Thursday. It just feels so empty Without Me.
*Watching Katy belittle ugly boy at Carey's with zero manners and even worse social skills.
*Hanging out at the Coffee Shop with Mary, Al, and Katy for 59 hours.
*Getting a haircut. But only a trim. I'm now growing it out. Until I change my mind in about 47 seconds.
After Bridge and I got back from Sioux City, Sara K came over to peddle a Mandolin on our doorstep. She wanted to sell hers, and if it has strings and makes noise, chances are, Bridget will buy it. She looked at the chords for mandolin for about .09 seconds and now she knows how to play the mandolin.
I'm still struggling with cursive G's.
Also (and this will blow your mind), we rented Snakes on a Plane. Fuck yeah, man.
Here are Things You Will Definitely Say When You See Snakes on a Plane:
"Don’t you cry, Samuel L. Jackson."
"Stupid dumb fire-eating snakes."
"The snake ate his head. The snake ate his head!
"That one doesn’t have teeth in real life."
"Ooh, a sidewinder."
"Is that a harpoon gun?"
"This movie is really about racial brotherhood."
"The sequel tagline: We gotta get these motherfuckin snakes outta this motherfuckin warehouse in the desert."
"This is ridiculous."
"He had a knife the whole time?"
"You don’t have no friend names polio."
"We gotta get these motherfuckin sharks outta the motherfuckin ocean."
"Isn’t it cool how the snakes only killed the fat, ugly, annoying, bad people and saved all the pretties?"
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