It's probably pointless to bring up the movies we watched over the weekend since it's now almost the weekend again, but that's the way it goes sometime. I decided to post this because due to an offhand comment from my Favorite Husband I realized I am going to be dragged (kicking and screaming) to the latest "Fantastic Four" movie--something about a "silver surfer", wooooo--since a precedent was set dragging me to the first StupidFest, whenever the FIRST Fantastic Four came out.
kicking and screaming
...my prologue to "Kittens 'n' Rainbows", which was sure to win the hundred grand except I couldn't be bothered to write the rest of it and then pony up the $85 bucks I'd need to enter it. And all of it is moot 'cuz the Sobol thing was canceled due to lack of interest anyway. So the world has lost out yet again on the chance to bask in Mojo's genius.
A few months ago I blogged about the Sobol Award. Yesterday they announced they were closing the contest and refunding the exorbitant $85 reading fee because of the lack of entrants. They were apparently shooting for 50,000 and only got around 1,000.
Mojo's Favorite Mother's Vintage Sports Illustrated Magazine
Okay. No recounting of all of the childhood traumas Mojo is now re-experiencing will be complete without her Favorite Mother recounting the dating scene she enjoyed in college. Mom was a professor's brat at Penn State (although I will probably catch some major grief calling her a "brat") and either as such or in spite of such had an active social life. Active by Mojo's standards, anyway. Mojo, of course by contrast is something of a misanthrope and would rather sit and stare at the wall all evening than attend a sorority dance, but it just goes to show. What it shows, I'm not quite sure, but there ya go. I guess it means not only did the apple fall far from the tree but someone picked up that poor apple that never hurt anyone and flung it, and then it was trampled by pigs and left to rot in the mud. Anyway, for whatever reason, Mojo's Favorite Mother is what Mojo would call "Socie", which is not meant to be the slur it sometimes is but just in the social sense. Whereas Mojo has to be dragged kicking and screaming to certain events and really enjoys being left alone until she happens to get lonely and then she wonders why no one ever calls or writes unless they want something. And of COURSE Mojo upped and married a social butterfly thereby assuring she will never enjoy being alone, never again, and has since learned to communicate with humans through a series of grunts and hand gestures.