So today at work my manager scared the crap out of me--she came up and told me she thought she'd just seen on the news that Weird Al died.
It freaked me right the hell out--I all but broke down crying at the customer service desk, and managed to run into the back room to plant my ass in a seat for a solid hour with my eyes glued on the news. (Not like anything was happening in the store. It was frigging Easter.) Turned out that actually the ticker tape at the bottom of the screen said "Parents of Weird Al Yankovic found dead in home, presumably of carbon monoxide poisoning" or something like that. She'd just happened to look up in time to see the tape starting at the part where it said "Weird Al," missing the "parents of" part.
Which is still incredibly frigging sad! The dude's parents died.
But still, ya know, o/` Weird Al is not dead, so glad Weird Al is not dead o/`. Yeah. I didn't want to think there'd be no more albums, and that that quirky personality I observed on my Weird Al DVD collection was, ya know, gone. Jeez.
I made Easter cookies--as an excuse to bake, you know me. I made these interesting crispy British cookies that have a whole pig's ass full of orange peel in them. They have a decidedly citrusy aftertaste. I put some thin white icing (also homemade of course) on them, and then decorated each with a milk chocolate egg. (That was not homemade, d00d. Furnished courtesy of Kash n' Karry.) I managed to crack nearly every cookie in the batch into two or more pieces because I crushed them into a container not quite large enough to hold them all, and then on top of that I . . . kinda biked to work with them. Wahoo.
Asshole Mr. Wise came into the store on Saturday--I swear, he is the biggest jackass in the state, dedicated to spreading jackassery everywhere. He had pre-calculated what his total would be, and when the total the computer came up with was four cents more than what he'd come up with, he insisted that he was right and "we" were wrong, and that it was done on purpose because that's how the companies make their money--by skimming a little extra off the top of honest customers. Well, that, or you're a dickhead goddamn jerkface who can't calculate his way out of a wet paper bag.
I wore a sock today that says on it "I make boys cry." It's covered with little teardrops. (The other sock, in case you were curious, was solid purple.)
So when I was a kid I used to tell this story to my sister when we were going to sleep at night. It was a weird story I'd read out of a storybook that happened to be in the class library. It was about two brothers who fought a lot, and their parents left them alone for like five days to go into town--only if they promised not to fight. They mostly obeyed, but then the big brother got mad at the little brother and locked him outside in the snow, and when he went to let him back in he was gone. He had been kidnapped by this weird dude who was made out of ice and liked to turn other things into ice. The big brother found where his little brother was being held, but he was forced by the ice man to do this work of turning animals into ice all day, until finally he found a way to spring his brother and ran away with him. Unfortunately he tripped and broke his ice brother into a billion pieces. (But the birds put him back together.) Yay.
I used to tell the story to my sister in our bunk beds, and she complained that she didn't like how the big brother ran away from the ice man's house and left all those poor animals frozen there. So the next time I told the story I changed it so that he went back and rescued the animals too.
Every time I told it she didn't like something about it or maybe wanted to improve on it, so we kinda reinvented the whole thing for ourselves. It remains a neat memory of growing up.
Weirdly, I FOUND the book at the thrift store a couple weeks ago. Of course, I bought it. It's called Two Brothers. It's kind of creepy reading the real story again. I keep expecting Big Brother to go back and thaw all the animals out, and I keep getting all disturbed that he doesn't.
I think I'll go back to listening to this song and letting it make me weepy.
Kiss me too fiercely
Hold me too tight
I need help believing
You're with me tonight
My wildest dreamings
Could not foresee
Lying beside you
With you wanting me
::sniffle:: Aww, Fiyero. . . . Yeah, you're a brainless sack of shit. :) Are you SURE you're not supposed to be the scarecrow??
a whole pig's ass full love that expression. lol *random* [oobidaga]
I had the same fright about wierd al when I read about it - because my eyes skimmed over the "parents of" part. **shivers** [wunderkont]
I'm trying to decide whether I would save my brother or my dog from the ice monster. *Brother throws his dirty laundry at me* I think I'll go with the dog. Animals are better than people sometimes! [katqueen]
I was very sad upon reading that, too. Don't want to even think about that song. [Meggie]