The Peeshwank and The Lyrids: A Conversation

English: A meteor during the peak of the 2009 ...

Living in a science-loving home we are all about meteor showers, comets, eclipses and all sorts of other night sky phenomena.  The Peeshwank will drag the telescope out to the front yard to try to view all sorts of things.  (Usually this takes place on the coldest nights of the year.  Of course.)

This week, the Lyrid meteor shower promised to entertain us for a night.  So we bundled up and took our place in the driveway and waited.  And waited.  And waited some more.

P: You know, on nights like these we should really live out in the the country.

Me: Yeah, the lights in town make it hard to see anything.

P:  And if we’re out in the country watching for meteor showers that aren’t gonna show up, at least we wouldn’t have neighbors around wondering, “What are those idiots doing laying in the driveway again?”

Touche`, Peeshwank.

I won at Car Line this morning

What?  You didn’t know Car Line was a game?  Well, it is.  Mainly because I’m a nerd-girl living with two hard-core gamers.  And I won this morning.

We started our quest to deliver a sleepy-eyed Peeshwank to his blustery prison sentence (it’s in the 20s today with a 10-degree wind chill, because: Spring in Arkansas, yo).  We turned the corner to see a line of campers all the way from one end of the school property to the other.  After discussing our strategy, we made our way to the front of the line.  Even though The Peeshwank had lots of loot to carry (60lb backpack, lunchbox, OM supplies, and his bass) we decided to show these n00bs how it was done.

We quickly realized we had apparently leveled up over Spring Break and were approaching an epic boss battle.  This boss: icy school driveway.

The boss had victimized not one but two vehicles ahead of ours – both of the players had apparently spent all their XP to upgrade their chariots: 4WD monster SUVs, tires bigger than The Peeshwank, NRA life memberships, etc.  Their giant wheels were spinning in place though.  The boss had disabled their special abilities.

The Peeshwank looked at me, a fearful look in his eyes, as I yelled “LEEROY JENKINSSSSSS” and easily delivered him over the ice and to the front door.

He threw me a fist bump as he exited our little mid-size sedan and I could hear his cry of “GET PWNED N00BS!” as I pulled away.

That’s how you win Car Line, y’all.

Hummer on Ice

Top 5: Signs Your Hair is Too Long

I decided awhile back to grow my hair to donate to Locks of Love or some other similar wigs-for-cancer-patients charity.  My hair grows really fast, so I figured I’d let it grow a little while, cut it, and smile in the fact that I’ve done something nice for someone else.

But right when I was ready to get back to my normal just-under-the-chin length, the better half let me know that he really liked it long.  So I decided to continue growing it, that way when I cut the requisite 12″ off to donate, I would still have enough length to keep him happy.

I realized this weekend just how far I’ve let it go…

So, here are some signs you need to pick up the phone and make an emergency call to your stylist:

5. You have to pin it up to go to the bathroom.  (Sitting down on the ends is one thing. Sitting down on them on the potty… EWWW!  Disclaimer: This has NOT happened to me personally.  Swear.)

4. It gets caught in your waist band when getting dressed.  (I wore a tie-back dress the other day and damn-near gave myself whiplash when I bent down to put on my shoes.)

3. Your shampoo budget rivals the car payment.  (The better half figured out that I had been dipping into his shampoo stash.  It’s hard to sneak increased hair product usage past someone who has very little hair to speak of.)

2. You’d put your hair in a cute sock bun, but when you pull it straight up, you can’t reach the ends.  (Two words: arm cramps.)

and…

1. The last time you saw your stylist was right before she went on maternity leave.  Her “baby” is now two.  (Actually she’s almost 2 and 1/2, but who’s counting?)

I think the better half will be okay with my decision to go back to my usual short length.  I suspect he’s tired of getting slapped in the face with half-wet hair every time I toss and turn at night.  I’m sure the fact that I start singing “I whip my hair back and forth” whenever it happens doesn’t help matters either.

Chewbacca

Hi, I’m here for my 1:30 shampoo, cut and style.

I Whip My Hair Back and Forth (the best version)

Getting Ready for the Globes

The Golden Globes red carpet starts in a few short hours and I’ve finally decided on my dress.  Hopefully Buffy won’t pull another stunt like last year.  But just in case, I wanted to show y’all the dress my stylist and I decided on for tonight’s festivities.  If anyone else shows up in it, you saw it here first.  You hear that, Anne Hathaway?

Y'all know I love a print on the red carpet.

Y’all know I love a print on the red carpet.

My acceptance speech is still pretty much the same as last year.  I’ve been too busy writing new novels to revamp it.  Mea culpa.  I’ll do better next year.

Jenn and Bec: A Conversation About Writing and Grammar

Since it’s been awhile, and I’m up to my ears in writing assignments other than blogging (clearly, judging by my absence here lately), I thought I’d put this out there to keep you sated for a bit…

My dear friend, Becca, is a writer like yours truly.  She’s also a fellow sports lover and collector of shoes.  She and I get together at various Razorback sporting events and chat about important things.  The following is an excerpt from our conversation at Sunday’s basketball game between Arkansas and Texas A&M…

Bec: You know, I labor over selecting the perfect words to convey my thoughts in my columns.  And then… I drive past the mall and BOTH sides of the sign say “Marry Christmas.”  What’s the point?

Me: Marry Christmas?!?  I’m sorry, but I think marrying holidays isn’t protected under the Sanctity of Marriage Act.  Can you imagine?  If we start letting people marry holidays, next thing you know it’ll be chaos.  People will start marrying dogs and toasters and…

Bec: I want a bumper sticker that says “Marry toasters.”

Our children pretty much ignored us from this point on.

So, welcome to 2013 and happy honeymoon to all of you who were able to marry Christmas.  (Fortunately, it’s still not legal in Arkansas, despite what the NWA Mall would have you believe.)

keep-calm-and-marry-christmas-3

 

The Peeshwank Blogs About His Role in “Gordon Family Tree”

Sorry, I’ve become a less-than-daily blogger.  The Peeshwank’s been keeping me on my toes (and away from my computer) lately.  Here’s an entry he wrote for the Gordon Family Tree Movie blog.

Guest Blogger: Actor Brandon Dulaney – My First Feature!

And here’s a trailer for “Lasting the After,” a post-apocalyptic film he acted in recently.  (He’s the kid getting manhandled by the SWAT guys.  As a somewhat protective mom, it was not easy to watch during filming, but he was having a blast and would start giggling as soon as they called “cut,” so that helped ease my mind.)

http://vimeo.com/50262282

Watching P work has made me proud of the young man he’s become.  He listens to his director and fellow actors and does what they need him to do.  If only I could get a movie director to come in and tell him to clean his room, pick up his laundry, and get off Minecraft for a little while each night…

My sweet boy

NBC’s Revolution: A Conversation with the Better Half

The Peeshwank and I settled in for a night of mindless entertainment, otherwise known as watching television.  We had seen promos for NBC’s “Revolution” and thought it would be right up our alley as it may have some valuable insight that maybe we hadn’t gleaned in our never-ending zombie apocalypse preparations.

Several minutes into the show, Joe entered the room and the following exchange happened:

Joe: Is this the show with no power?

Me: Yeah.

Joe: So it all just went out?

Me: Yeah.  No electricity.  No batteries.

Joe: They could use steam engines.

Me: Not that I’ve seen.

Joe: So, their premise is that electricity and chemical reactions ceased to function.

Me: Yep.

Joe: Yet they’re all alive.  Clearly the electricity and chemical reactions that run the human body still work.  Oh, and look, fire!

Me: Yep.  They’re thinking, “oh we’re just showing this to Americans, they won’t question our science.”

Joe: Well, at least they don’t have to worry about getting shot.

Me: Oh no, their guns work just fine.

Joe: Wait, if the guns work, then…

Me: Internal combustion engines work too.  Yeah.  They didn’t think of that either.  I guess they’re REALLY hoping America will willingly suspend their disbelief enough to buy it all.

We watch in silent disbelief for a few more minutes.

Joe: (gets up to leave) I can’t with this anymore…

He comes back in when it’s over and asks how the rest of the hour went.

Me: Well, this chick went into a closet with a bunch of old machinery and turned on a necklace gave her electricity and internet access.  I guess it’s a wi-fi hotspot necklace or something.  I should probably get one of those for when P-dog and I are out and about.

He shook his head in disbelief.

Me: No worries.  “Castle” is back on next Monday and I’ll be back to my regularly scheduled swooning over Captain Mal.

One necklace to power them all…

You Know You’re a Good Mother When…

The Peeshwank has a tendency to hum/whistle/sing/generally make noise at his desk while mining away for diamonds on Minecraft.

Earlier he was on a singing kick and I heard that familiar riff.  You know the one…

I stood in the kitchen watching the back of my spawn’s head wondering which direction he would go.

“Oh my God, is he going to continue with the Vanilla Ice abomination or will he go the Queen route… oh god… here it comes…”

And he started singing the lyrics that prove I’m doing something right as a parent.

Sing it with me folks: “PRESSURE!  Pushing down on me…”

Rock on, Peeshwank.  Rock on.

This was him, pissed that he didn’t get to go see Wilco with my bff and I. Yeah, he’s got good taste in music.

“Friday” as Performed by 19th Century Englishmen

“Friday” is one of my favorite movies to quote.  It’s right up there with “Fight Club,” “American Psycho” and “Christmas Vacation.”  I couldn’t sleep last night, so I laid in bed quoting so many of those great lines from Smokey, Craig and even Felisha’s beggin’ ass in my head… in the Queen’s English… as imagined by a sleepy Southern girl who’s not necessarily well-versed in the Queen’s English…

If you haven’t seen the movie, this won’t make sense.  It may not make sense if you have seen the movie.  Alas…

Smokey: “Breach thine self, knave!”

Craig: “I do not partake of the cannabis.  A fact of which, thou are most certainly cognizant.”

Smokey: “Inhale, inhale, relinquish.”

Smokey: “I exert telepathic control over Lord Deebo.  When he insists upon my complete silence, I oblige him.  However, when he takes his leave, I begin conversing with my companions again.”

Smokey: “Why art thou thieving storage chests?  Art thou endeavoring to build an outdoor recreational habitat?”

Smokey: “Egad!  Thine cupboards never hold items that complement one another.  Tea, alas no scones.  Biscuits, yet no caviar.  Egad!”

Joi: “It is not required of thou to fabricate falsities, Sir Craig.”

Felisha: “Prithee might I borrow thine carriage, Sir Smoke?”

Joann: “Pray-tell, why art thou striking the entry as if thou were the constable?”

And of course, that classic line:

Mr. Jones: “I seize a cur and I asphyxiate the beast.  The length of the day my brogan is lodged in a mongrel’s posterior.”

These are the things that keep me up at night.

Writing a Bio: A Conversation with the Better-Half

I don’t like talking about myself.  Okay, I don’t like talking about myself in a serious way.  I’m much more the self-deprecating type.  So when it comes time to present myself in a professional manner, I’m sadly at a loss.  Good thing I have The Joe to keep me in line.

Me: I have to write a bio for a website that’s going to feature me as a writer.

Joe: Jennifer McClory is a writer who enjoys stabbing people.

Me: But I don’t actually stab people.  Besides, that’s only when I go to Wal-Mart.

Joe: Jennifer McClory is a writer who would enjoy stabbing people if she weren’t so scared of doing time in prison.

Me: Yes.  That’s it.  Thank you.

Joe: You’re welcome.

He’s a gem, that one.