I Need a Nickname, and The Great Chicken Revolt

I changed my template, thereby confusing my handful of readers even more, ta da! But, I think it's easier to read now. There were complaints. Okay, it was Girl Kid doing the complaining, but still. I listen to my readers, even if they live in my house. Sometimes I even do what they want. That's just how great and magnanimous I am.

I need a cool nickname. Well, Mistress Squidia is a pretty cool name, but it's not as cool as "Ze" or "Lo-Rez" or "Ga-Dget". Okay, I made that last one up. It would have to be short and techno and shiny and express the stupendousness of the fabulousness that is me. Help me out in my quest for a new nickname by emailing me: mistresssquidia@yahoo.com.

On Survivor last night, the whole Race Wars did get a bit interesting. The brown people's team lost, and sent Big Blowhard And Deluded Self Appointed Leader Who's Name I Won't Remember So Why Try home, much to his aggrievement. He and his other male team mate treated the women like they were there to cook, clean and follow orders, and then acted really surprised when the three chicks ganged up on them. He keep saying how sorry they would be when they couldn't make fire without him. Funny thing—he never managed to make a fire in the first place. And then as soon as Blowhard was given the boot, Jeff gave the remaining members flint, and you should have seen the smirks on the women's faces. Brutal. More importantly the chickens escaped. I'm sure animal rights groups are sending hotly worded missives to CBS as we speak. It was an all-round bad day for the cute little chickens: dragged around by their feet upside down, almost drowned several times, being trapped in a box...and then, saved at last by the clueless Roller Girl(who is butt-lucky that her team won immunity) when she turned over the box to see what was inside. I expect the chickens are still having the time of their lives out there on Cook Island, just very possibly starting their own roller derby themed religion. Go Fighting Chickens. Speaking of which, what's for lunch?

No longer post today, because I am tired, hungry, and otherwise engaged. Sorry. Later today we will go to see Crank again, because Girl Kid's b-friend has not seen it. According to the box office returns, neither have you. If you have delicate sensibilities, that might be for the best. But, if you are not a big wussy, or if you are a male type person, you should get off your ass and go see Crank right away, because this movie obviously won't last long at the ol' monsterplex, and it really deserves to be seen on a big screen. Unless you have a 90" plasma screen TV at home (in which case, invite me over), you should not wait for the DVD. It's fun on a bun. A big bloody bun on crack. Rise up from your desk job right this minute and go forth and see Crank now. Your co-workers will never miss you, (nor you them). Is there no greater pleasure than munching popcorn and gazing happily up at Big Stupid Movie all on on a sunny Fall Friday afternoon when you are supposed to be at work? I think not.

Seriously. Go. Now.

Until we meet again, my sweeties, be happy, be bitchy, be inappropriate, be full of beans, be sitting in a darkened theater, and be thinking up cool nicknames for me. Ta.