Thursday, May 30, 2013

Zombies, Zombies Everywhere and Not a Toe to Eat…

This morning I woke up from nightmares riddled with zombies and poorly organized 5K races.  Now for those who know, the more terrifying dream contains the disorganized 5K business, but that’s for another time.  The zombie bit, however, was understandably disturbing and somewhat sleep depriving.

Ever since I was young, I’ve had a deep love-hate relationship with horror.  Love it; can’t watch it. Watch it anyway; toss and turn all night with my mind rewriting an REM storyline much scarier than the original.  Because let’s be real, the predictability of horror these days kind of takes the punch out of it for some, and by some, I mean me.  Only even if I knew where the story was going while I watched, I still get punched with the unknown.  All night long.

Back to this morning…upon waking, I began ferreting out the reason my brain went wonky with my own personal sucker punches.  Lucky for me being almost intelligent, it only took a few seconds to figure out why my brain was so disturbed while simultaneously realizing a small victory of a fight almost forgotten: you actually can break zombie rules and have that breach work for you.

Here’s an offending clip similar to what I saw right before heading to beddie-bye:


These aren’t your ordinary zombies.  These are fast moving zombies.  Zombies don’t move quickly.  They don’t.  Ever.  Mostly because fast moving zombies are a major violation of zombie rules. 

You can be surprised by a zombie arm bashing through a window and pulling you through it.  They can have that sense of surprise and strength.

You can be tricked into thinking your relative, now zombified, is still in there, but find out you’re wrong because they bite a chunk out of your shoulder.

You can outrun a zombie…wait.  Not so in this new film.  This fact would have old school critics up in arms, believe me.  (If you don’t, read some of the commentary.)  Zombie rules are serious business.

Back, moons ago, I blogged the raging debate I had with my youthful, creative writing cohorts over zombie rules because another student had written a short story liberally busting up zombie codes of conduct.  I felt it was a particularly well-written story, and rule breakage actually made the story more believable, or at the very least, more entertaining.  I was basically told at that time that maybe I was too old to get it (fuck you, too, creatively-caged babies) and that “everyone knows you can’t break zombie rules.”  “It’s just not done.”  “It’s the poorest of form.”  “People have expectations”…yada yada yada.  *eye roll*

Back to speedy zombies you can’t seem to outrun and who can, en masse, overtake a city bus.  Breaking the rules makes this story scarier.  Or apparently it did for my brain.

It’s the element of surprise, people.  The unexpected.  Humans, in general, don’t like that whole unforeseen, total loss of control business.  It’s why movies like Halloween and Jaws scared the bejesus out of most people. 

I also suspect that’s why all we see now are copied themes and remakes of old stories that originally made money.  It’s an attempt to engage new blood to these classic horror techniques, except the shock factor is done and dusty.  Expected.  We know that as the sweet music is playing towards the roll of credits, the arm will reach up from the grave and grab the woman's arm placing flowers there.  We know when the person finally kills the monster that plummets over the cliff/balcony/stairwell that the body will be long gone by the time the protagonist leans over to take a look-see.  Those rehashed stories are certainly safe money makers, but BOOORINGGGZZZZzzzzzz. 

Perhaps people like the security conventional tactics provide?  We sure seem to like to know, and control, the outcome of things.  Fast moving zombies put us out of our element.  They make us more scared because we can’t determine where we’ll end up, or if we’ll survive.  Heroes of our own life, we’re not sure we have the smarts, strength, and speed to move faster and with more endurance than the most adept, threatening zombie in our world. 

Broken rules make us feel…unsafe.  Still, a broken rule is anything but boring.  Breaking the rules shakes people up a bit.  Makes stories scarier.  Or funnier.  Or sadder.  But infinitely more interesting.  That goes for the stories of our lives, too.

We’re forced to grow, to think more creatively with more cunning, compassion, and character.  Trained to follow the rules, we have to be courageous enough to step outside of the box while dealing with our own bus-dumping, fast moving, flesh eating “monsters” that’d sooner suck us into their daily catatonic abyss of blah than allow us to wrench ourselves free and become something far more intriguing to ourselves and the rest of the world.

I may or may not need to see World War Z in the theater, though if not, I suspect I’ll watch it on video at some point (best when my mate doesn’t have to get up early since he’ll be dealing with my catastrophizing dreamscape).  I’ll watch because I have a sincere appreciation for the disregarding of rules…especially of the zombie variety. 


And finally, to that guy from my English 415 class, wherever he is now, we were right, dude.  Screw the zombie rules!  Rule breakers unite!!!

Saturday, May 25, 2013

Pinch you!! That’s MINE…


*blink*
*blink*

To be honest, when I read the headline, I thought maybe this woman was making an example of her 13 year old son.  You know, the whole tough love bit?  The “you’re always taking stuff that isn’t yours so now I’m toasting your tart” parenting gem in an attempt to adjust the child’s offending ways?  I could get behind that.

Reading on, however, we find out maybe Tash isn’t going to win this year’s award for Sparkling Role Model nor Mother of the Year.  But what she might win is even better: the almost always coveted Ms. Most Crazy Food Obsession 2013.

Her intense love for the Tart may seem odd to some, I suppose, but not to me, although my wheat sensitivities and diligent calorie counting keep me away from the perfectly frosted, faux-fruit confection.  And while Tarts are crossed from my list, don’t you worry!  I have a whole collection of “speed dial 911 on your thieving ass” foods because I am a super-huge fan of eating. 

Anyway, here’s a few of mine that will get you tossed in the clink for such thievery:

1. Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.  Chocolate and peanut butter.  Seriously simplistic, yet a delicately blended balance of sweet and salty.  Sneak a cup, and I’ll be visiting you at the hoosegow.  Two, and I might just let you rot there…forever

2. Chester Cheetah Puffy Cheetos.  Most perfect snack ever created.  Ever.  Puffies, due to their melt in your mouth quality, are far superior to the crunchy variety.  Healthy?  Of course!  Puffies have dietary fiber, protein, Vitamin A, and iron, too.  Just be sure to lick the cheesy goodness off your busted-by-those-blaze-orange fingers before you dial that one phone call.  You don’t know who’s dialed out before you, and you sure don’t want to waste any deliciousness…

3. Bacon.  Yes, I’ll admit bacon is an unusual food to find on a vegetarian’s send-you-up-the-river-for-stealing-my-grub list, but bacon is how we know that God exists, and sometimes we have to honor our connection to our Maker.  Besides it’s the “gateway” meat; everyone who’s anyone knows that.  It’s flawlessness in a greasy strip. If you’re lucky, the coppers will let you off for good behavior, and by that I mean you’ve fried up another pound.  Crispy, please…

4. Red wine.  Wine is too a food.  It’s fruit that’s been left in a cup to overly ripen.  According to the new food pyramid, one should consume at least two daily servings.  Steal my vino, and I’ll make sure you do hard time. It’s a matter of health after all…

5. Coffee.  Made from the coffee bean.  *smirk*  One needs to understand the clear and present danger regarding my devotion to my pot of black gold.  I won’t turn you in to the police for swiping my joe, but they won’t ever find your body either…

See, Ms. Love?  There are those of us out there who get your impeccably sound rationale for squealing your son out to the boys in blue.  This is how children learn where their boundaries are.  They learn what doesn’t belong to them, doesn't belong to them.  They learn that Mom is always right. And, well, they learn that batshit crazy folks aren’t always living on the next block but often sleep under the same roof.  No worries, honey.  My kids turned out just fine.  Your son will, too.


Hmm, I guess there’s going to be a real competition for the title this year, eh?  At least I look stellar in a sash and tiara…