Princess Bride

All posts tagged Princess Bride

The Playlist

Published September 26, 2015 by Malia

One thing about our wedding that makes me super happy, is the fact that multiple people have told us how much fun they thought it was.  I know I may be biased, but I think they’re right.  Probably one of my favorite things from our wedding is the playlist.

Back when we first started dating, one thing we would do is put YouTube on the Chromecast, and we’d both keep adding videos to the stream.  It made for many hours of inexpensive entertainment.  Since we weren’t having a dance at the wedding, the boy had the idea of putting together a giant YouTube playlist that would run in the background throughout the reception.  It’s filled with nerd music, parodies, and some pretty random weirdness.  It’s also a pretty good look at what entertains the two of us.  So, whether you were at the wedding and confused by the quiet YouTube videos, or just wanting to watch an eccentric stream of videos, I’m going to share the playlist with all of you!

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Our Family Has Grown By Four Paws

Published July 31, 2015 by Malia

When the boy and I first got together, I made it pretty clear that to love me is to love (or at least gracefully tolerate) any various pet (live or stuffed) that I may hold up in front of his face, while squealing something along the lines of, “Doesn’t he have just the most precious widdle face you’ve ever seen?”  We both agreed when we got married that eventually we’d have a dog or cat, but the timing wasn’t optimal at present.  I still needed to finish (and by that I mean start) unpacking, and we just needed to settle into being a married couple.  This is the first time either of us has lived with someone as more than just a roommate.  Adjusting has to happen.

The first few months, I did good.  Yes, I desperately wanted to go to the shelter and get a little unwanted kitty, but I knew the boy was right.  We needed to wait.  And then I got mono.

If you’ve read any of my recent posts, you’ll know the whole “yay, I got mono for the second time in my life”  story.   If you don’t know the story, basically I spent all of May trying to figure out why I felt so rotten.  Beginning of June, found out I had mono.  It was a pretty “magical” time in my life.

So, I was beginning to recover, when one of my friends let me know that the Humane Society was having a half-off sale on adult cats.  (I realize I should clarify, they weren’t selling half of a cat, it was half-off the price.  Wait, none of you needed me to explain that?  Oh well, here’s hoping at least one person out there found this terrible joke slightly funny…)  Thinking that it couldn’t hurt to at least look at the shelter’s website, as long as I stuck to my guns about not giving in to my desire for a kitty, I went browsing.  I’ll be honest, there were some pretty cute cats.  However, as I went from page to page, no image really leaped out and grabbed me.  Until I came across the image of a cat that looked exactly like my poor, dead Howie cat (except this cat had amber eyes instead of Howie’s green).

I stared at that picture, and I fell in love.  He was purrrrfect.  I wanted desperately to rush over to the Humane Society and adopt him immediately.  However, I knew the boy might have some issue if I did that.  Instead I waited until he got home, and then I kind of attacked him with all the information I had about the cat.  I’m relatively certain my ramblings went something like this, “He’s just so precious and adorable.  He really needs a home.  He’s four, and he’s been at the shelter for a month.  No one is going to want an older cat that’s already been there that long.  Just look at this picture!”  And that’s when I shoved my phone in his face, forcing him to look at the “perfect” cat.  I ended my sales pitch with, “We REALLY need a cat.”

I believe his response was something along the lines of, “I believe that you believe we really need a cat.”

“So, you’re saying we don’t need a cat?”

“I didn’t say that, I said that I believe that you believe we really need a cat.”

“So, if  I went and adopted him tomorrow, that’d be okay?”

“As you wish.”

I feel I should interject here, that when the boy says, “As you wish,” it’s super romantic and quite swoon-worthy because he’s actually saying, “I love you.”  And if you’re thinking that it sounds like I lifted that straight from Princess Bride, well, there’s a good reason for that.  I love when he says it, and I think he knows it.

Anyway, the next day my mom went with me, and I spent nearly two hours waiting to get to spend some time with the kitty.  Mom and I sat facing the row of windows, right in front of where he was sitting.  He came with the name Ziggy, but there was absolutely nothing about him that screamed Ziggy at me.  Maybe Garfield, but not Ziggy.  I spent the whole two hours being desperately afraid that somebody in line ahead of me would be there for Ziggy, and they’d get him before I could.  However, there were bunches of kittens, and they were definitely garnering more attention and visits than the big, fat, orange cat.

Finally, my number got called.

I found myself sitting in this little room with my mom and a humane society worker.  She asked some basic questions about my lifestyle and home, and then asked me why I wanted to adopt Ziggy.  I realized that I probably shouldn’t say, “He looks exactly like the reincarnation of my dead cat who I miss terribly.”  So, I gave some pat answer about how from what I’d read on Ziggy’s info, it looked like he would be a perfect fit for our home, and that I just wanted to give him at home.  I can’t remember exactly what I said, but I’m sure it sounded trite and formulaic.  I must have satisfied their questions, because they let him in the room to see how he’d do.

He did great.

I adopted him.

Then I texted the boy (who was at work) an adorable picture of Ziggy sticking his nose out through the holes in the carrier side, and captioned it, “Hi, dad!”  Unfortunately, the boy didn’t get the picture and only saw the text, and because he doesn’t equate pet ownership the same as being parents, he immediately thought that I meant a miracle had happened and I was pregnant.  Which led to him calling me with great excitement, and me realizing that maybe I should’ve worded my text message differently.  I had to burst his bubble, and tell him I was just referring to the kitty.  Later on, I had to give him a hard time about the fact that he actually thought that if I found out I was pregnant I would let him know via a text message.  Um…hello…that would be huge, life-altering, amazing news, and there is no way I’d tell him in a text message!  I could be 5000 miles away, and I’d find a way to get home so I could tell him face to face.

Ziggy came to live with us, and by that I mean, he spent the next few weeks primarily living under our bed.  He turned out to be afraid of  everything (side note: he’s only scared of mostly everything now, I see this as progress).  Since I was adamant he wasn’t a Ziggy, we started trying out new names.  For the first two weeks we called him Ajani (a cat character from Magic: The Gathering), but then I found out that Ajani is actually a girl’s name and put my foot down.  I said something about the fact that I didn’t care if he was fixed, I wasn’t giving him a girl’s name.  Which led to me calling him Monk, as in Adrian Monk, Tony Shalhoub’s character from Monk.  I figured that if the cat was scared of everything, it was a good fit.  And then the boy finished building the greatest cat house ever…

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He build a cat sized TARDIS.

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I’m 5’0″ tall, and I can barely see over the top of this thing.  And if building a TARDIS for my cat wasn’t enough, the boy came up with the most perfect name ever.

Doctor Mew.

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The Dentist Curse

Published May 7, 2014 by Malia

I’ve not written in a couple of weeks because there hasn’t been much to talk about.  The most interesting parts of my life are work and the boy.

I would write about work, but there’s this whole “HIPPA” thing that I don’t want to be in violation of.  So, all the entertaining/irritating/funny/wtf moments that happen there are going to continue to remain confidential.

I could write about the boy, but I’m relatively certain most people do not want to read yet another post talking about how fantastically wonderful he is.  The fact that he puts Gravity Falls on the DVR for me so I can get caught up, and then willingly watches it with me (even though he’s all caught up) kind of makes me melt inside.  And that’s just the tiniest tip of the iceberg of how awesome he is to me.  He actually listens to me, even when I’m rambling on and on about something completely ridiculous.  He was even willing to go as the Dread Pirate Roberts for Free Comic Book Day just so I could go as a princess (I put in a showing as a very brunette Buttercup.  Realized to my horror, after the fact, that I was doing a better Sansa Stark cosplay than a Buttercup cosplay).  I’d be lying if I said I’m not feeling some very deep emotions regarding the boy.  But like I said, I doubt people really want to read another post about this kind, gentle, patient, sweet gentleman.  (In case you think I’m laying it on really thick, I’m barely doing the man justice.  He really is amazing.)

So, apart from those two things, life has been pretty quiet.  However, yesterday something finally fell into my lap that I thought, I should totally write about this.  See, yesterday I learned that I am apparently cursed when it comes to my dentist.  To begin, let me give some background information.

Back in 2008, I had a dental emergency, and found myself visiting a new dentist (the one I had gone to previously was absolutely awful).  The new dentist, we’ll call him Dr. G, was brilliant.  From then until 2010, I saw him anytime I had a teeth emergency, and he was always awesome.  Always worked with me and my budget, and did everything in his power to not make it such a terrifying experience.

In 2010, I had a tooth that needed work, and went to see him.  He came up with a treatment plan, and I needed to save some money before I could have the work done.  When I went back a month later, I learned to my horror, Dr. G had left the practice.  Another dentist ended up completing the work.  He was nice enough, but just not as good of a dentist.

In 2012, my parents needed to go to the dentist, and they actually found out that Dr. G had moved to another practice in town.  They went to see him and all was well.

When I had to have my root canal, back in March, Dr. G was who I went to see.  He did an amazing job (the root canal was over with before I even realized it had been officially started).  I had an appointment 2 weeks ago to have the temporary crown removed and the permanent one placed.  The day of my appointment, I showed up to the clinic, and was informed that Dr. G was out of town and Dr. S would be seeing me.  I was nervous about this.  Dr. S did a quick check and found that Dr. G did his crown prep differently.  Dr. S told me that since I wasn’t having any problem with the temporary, it would probably be better to wait until Dr. G was back in town to have the permanent applied.  He was concerned that since his way of setting the crown was different, I might start having problems with the permanent wanting to come loose.  I was okay with this, and really glad for the honesty.

Yesterday, I got a call to remind me about the appointment I had for today.  The call started with me being told, “Um…Dr. G has left our practice with no warning, so you’ll be seeing Dr. S.”  Fortunately, Dr. S had called Dr. G and found out how best to place the permanent.

So, if you’ve managed to follow all that, you’ll see that I have managed to have the same dentist bail on me twice now.  The boy referred to the situation as a sign.  And I’m afraid I have to acknowledge that he is probably right.  I’m going to just have to let Super Dentist go bye-bye (he really was the most amazing dentist I’ve ever encountered.  Even my parents would agree and they’ve had loads more dental work done than I have).  Fortunately, I really liked Dr. S, so here’s hoping he doesn’t quit the practice before he’s supposed to do my filling.

Otherwise, I’ll have to assume I’m cursed…

Can Buttercup Be Brunette?

Published April 11, 2014 by Malia

Every five years or so, I get this urge to go blonde.  It’s not a good idea.  In fact, in the realm of ideas of things to do to my hair, going blonde is pretty much at the very bottom of the list.  I’ll be honest, I make a terrible blonde.  I don’t have the complexion for it; plus,  I’m a natural brunette, and I’ve got just enough copper tones in my hair, that the blonde always goes really super fake looking.

Now, in a few weeks, I’m supposed to be doing my first couple’s cosplay, and we’re doing Dread Pirate Roberts and Buttercup.  I’ve got a killer dress, and while it’s not movie accurate, it will work.  I’m starting to get a little nervous though.  See, Buttercup is supposed to be this gorgeous woman, and every depiction I’ve ever encountered about her has her as a blonde.  I’m neither gorgeous nor blonde.  At best I qualify as semi-adorable and fairly eccentric.   So, y’know, there’s that.

I know that the whole point of cosplay is to represent something you love (and I really do love Princess Bride), so I’m not worried about that; my worry is more that I can’t do justice to this character.  I know I shouldn’t be worried or nervous.  Besides,  the important thing is that when it’s all said and done, fun will have been had.