Someone believing me to be a different Sarah Crowder followed me on Instagram a while back. I know because I have gotten misdirected e-mail from the same person. And here’s the thing: I post selfies. She knows I’m a different Sarah Crowder.
But she hasn’t unfollowed me, and occasionally “hearts” my photos.
I guess because I’m just that awesome?
That’s right, other Sarahs. I’m in ur Instagrams, stealing ur friends.
…what movie I’ll use to torment my long-suffering life partner this Halloween.
We have a little tradition in our household: Every Halloween I choose a horror movie to watch, and Lennox actually watches it. He doesn’t care for the horror genre, and never really gets anything out of it, but he’s an excellent sport and gives me 1 1/2 to 2 hours of his life every year just to please me. Nice chap, that one.
Anyway, I have no idea what to watch this year. Previous selections have included The Ring (US version), The Exorcist (original theatrical cut), A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984), The Evil Dead (1981), and oddly enough, Pumpkinhead (because I love it, love it, love it).
Some possibilities for this year include: Halloween, Fright Night (2011), or The Others. I really loved The Conjuring, too, and it’s out on DVD just in time to be another possibility.
The problem is that I know I’m missing obvious choices, and need some help. I prefer our Halloween movie to have some sort of redeeming quality — great acting or script, for instance — and I also prefer to keep the sexual violence to a minimum. (Oh, also: No zombies this year. Just not in the mood.) New movies, old movies — anything is cool, as long as it’s scary. I have no problem with gore (as long as it’s not straight up torture porn), and although I personally prefer supernatural horror, I like a lot of different scary things.
There’s a crafter’s personal blog I really like because the photos are amazing. But they’re so intimate — cooking family dinners, pets, her daughter & partner — that they sometimes make me feel like a spy.
I mean, I know she puts this stuff out there on purpose, but sometimes I click away from her blog feeling like a straight up web-peeper.
It’s a weird feeling.
Sarah L. Crowder is a humorless misanthrope & an insufferable know-it-all, despite that fact that she is helpless without spellcheck. She enjoys proving you wrong & sucking all of the joy out of everything you love.
So glad I’m not a “trophy wife,” or I’d have to figure out what sort of tortured and demented contest Lennox won that would have me as a prize. Unless I was a participant trophy?
That makes more sense.
Every time I hear Keith David narrate something I have an overwhelming urge to grab the nearest pro wrestler and repeatedly knee him in the groin in an alley.
Well, pretty much every time.
Please tell me that someone, somewhere, is writing a college paper entitled “My Robot Legs: Transhumanism in ‘Grandma’s Boy.'”
This has to happen. Someone make this happen. Be sure to include the dealer’s monkey somewhere in the essay.
I just read the word “magnitude” in a random sentence…
…and immediately raised my hands in the air and said, “Pop! Pop!”
I think I watch too much TV.