Tag Archives: funny

Celebrities with sexy voices and what I’d have them say

Hugo Weaving as Elrond in The Lord of the Ring...

Image via Wikipedia

As most of you know, certainly those of you who troubled to read the subtitle of the blog, I can’t see very well.  When I watch television shows or movies, I depend a lot more on the voices of the actors than most people do.  When an actor speaks without inflection or nuance, it doesn’t matter to me how cute he is or how pretty she is, or how stunning the sets or costumes are, I’m not getting anything out of the show.

On the other hand, there are actors who knock my socks off with their voices–and you know how I feel about my socks!  So I’m offering to you a list of actors whose voices make me melt, and what (in another world) I would have them say.  Clips are provided for reference; try closing your eyes and listening to them, without seeing the screen at all.  Experience the world Little-Blind-Girl style.  Then you can open your eyes and gaze at Brad Pitt and George Clooney all you want.  Actually, George Clooney’s voice isn’t bad, either.  But he can’t hold a candle to these guys:

1.  Hugo Weaving:  Really, this one should be obvious.  I mean, the man managed to be a sex symbol while wearing a mask, gloves, and costume that covered every inch of his body in V for Vendetta.  That’s the power of his voice.

 

In my mind, he’s saying, “Little Blind Girl, the days when you do not post to your blog are lost days for me.  I cannot bear to speak of those times.”

2.  Clint Eastwood:  My God, this man’s voice will be sexy as he’s giving his deathbed utterance.  Forget the squinty blue eyes, the lean face, the sensitive hands, just give me the voice.  Seriously.  Pick any movie he’s in, pop on an eyeshade, and play it.  You’ll never be able to go back to watching network television again.

 

I like to imagine him saying, “Go ahead, Little Blind Girl, make my day.”

3.  Morgan Freeman:  If they ever make a movie about my life, I want the voice-over narration to be done by this man.  Whenever I’m trying to make headway in some particularly tedious technical publication, I imagine it performed in the style of Morgan Freeman.  Take out the instructions for your toaster oven and imagine him reading them.  Good, huh?  Man’s got talent.

 

In the interviews he gives in my imagination, Morgan Freeman says “The Little Blind Girl, she’s like the sun coming out after a storm, the fire when you’ve been out in the cold, the first flower of spring.  You just sit and wait and think about that wonderful time in the future when she’ll come back into your life.”

4.  John Hannah:  Though he’s been in many movies, including Four Weddings and a Funeral, and the occasional television show, such as Carnivale, I think I like him best in The Mummy and The Mummy Returns.  Such a wonderful, versatile actor, with a wonderful, versatile voice.  Take a listen:

 

In the movie of my life, his quote will be, “My God, Little Blind Girl, you’re magnificent!  How  do you wake up every morning looking so radiant?”  Although, really, he could just read the cereal box with that accent.

5.  Benedict Cumberbatch:  The man whose voice inspired this post.  Like many, I first became familiar with him through the BBC remake of the Sherlock Holmes stories, cleverly entitled Sherlock.  He plays the title character, and never has an asexual high-functioning sociopath sounded so glorious.  I’m in love with him for his voice alone.  I’m sure he’s also a wonderful human being, and he’s certainly an outstanding actor…but it’s the voice.  Listen to the video and you’ll understand why:

 

In a not-too-distant possible world in which he’s in love with me, he leans in and whispers into my ear, “Oh, Little Blind Girl, I’m ashamed of the things I want to do to you.”

So there you have it!  What do you think?  Are there better voices out there?  What would you have Morgan Freeman say in the voice-over narration for the movie of your life?  Tell me how right or wrong I am.  Then go watch the BBC’s Sherlock.  Trust me on this.

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Look! Elvis!

List of VeggieTales episodes

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I was out with my girlfriends celebrating a birthday among us.  The path to the restaurant took us past a favorite clothing store of mine, one I always beg my friends to go in, I promise I’m just going to look at socks, really I mean it this time, and then I inevitably veer off toward shoes and general apparel once I’ve gone through the socks.  To avoid being dragged out of the store by my friends, I’ll usually point and say something like “Look!  Elvis!” and then run off in the opposite direction while they’re looking for the King.  What gets me about that technique is not that it works despite the fact that Elvis is dead, it’s that it works repeatedly on the same people.

This time, my friend turned to me and said, “Can you feel the vacuum from the sock store pulling you in?”  And I could, I really could, but what struck me most about that remark was the idea of a store entirely devoted to socks.  If we had such a place in my hometown, I’m not sure I’d ever leave.  I love socks.  I own about four pairs of socks for every pair of shoes.  I talk to my socks when I’m picking out which pair to put on.  I have froggy ankle socks that say “Ribbit” and knee-high stripey socks and full-length argyle tights, and everything in between.  If I pass a store that sells socks, I have to go in.  I have a problem, I know it, and I’m never, ever seeking help.

During my friend’s birthday dinner we were talking about the usual:  boys, hair, what to post on my blog.  I would drift off every so often and start imagining a socks-only store that sold socks of every type and description.  I’d come back to myself and rejoin the conversation only to drift off again a few minutes later.  One of my friends guessed what I was daydreaming of and said, “If that’s what you’re fixated on, I guess there are worse things to obsess over.”  I immediately responded, “Like Johnny Depp.  Ooh!  Shopping for socks with Johnny Depp!”  One friend said, “Now that’s a blog post topic!”  Another friend replied, “That’s a therapy session!”

I like to think we’re all correct.  In my head, I’m shopping for socks with Johnny Depp right now, and it’s marvelous.  I’m sure my therapist will agree.

Rainbow striped toe socks worn with thong sandals

Image via Wikipedia

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Dating disasters, revisited

"Would you take offense if I had the gall...

I was out on the town not too long ago, which for me usually means something like “I think I’ll swing by the bookstore on my way back from picking up light bulbs,” when I ran into an attractive young man.  I had this nagging feeling that I knew him from somewhere, but I didn’t want to admit my ignorance, so I just cast flirtatious looks while racking my brain.  Finally I had to admit defeat, and I said, “Forgive me, you seem familiar.  Have we met?”  There was an especially awkward pause, and then he said, “We used to date.”

There’s really no coming back from that one.  I made some polite excuse and extricated myself as quickly as I could.  I swear, I’m starting a chart of Guys I Have Dated and carrying it around for quick reference on future occasions.  It’ll have categories like “Pretended to like him but never called him back,”  “Mommy Issues,” and “Psycho Ex-Girlfriend”.  In fact, I may patent the idea and start marketing it.  I can make an iphone app where you can upload photographs of guys and list when you went out, where you went, and why it didn’t work out.  I’ll be the savior of perennial singletons the world wide.

I feel like a total drip.  Man, I wish I could remember why it didn’t work out with that guy.  Probably because I couldn’t remember we were dating.

(Image via Wikipedia Commons)

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Donate a Mirror to a Celebrity

There are all manner of appalling, heartrending tragedies all around the globe.  Here at iliketheworldfuzzy, we’re highlighting the sadly-neglected plight of celebrities without mirrors.  Throughout the year, but especially now during awards season, it is painfully obvious that many celebrities do not have that basic staple so many of us take for granted:  a mirror.  It is also clear that many do not have true friends who will tell them when they look completely ridiculous or when an outfit or hairstyle simply does not suit them, but there are some problems even the Little Blind Girl can’t fix.  So we’re taking up a collection to bring relief to the needy celebrities who appear to have no idea what they look like when they step outside the door and fall prey to the ruthless paparazzi.

These poor celebrities have no points of reference when attempting to apply the always-tricky smoky eye makeup technique.  They have no idea that the floral pants craze currently circulating among those with more money than sense looks absolutely horrendous and that such prints should stay on the bedsheets in the spare room where they belong.  Even the obscenely good-looking are not exempt.  Oh, Jessica Alba, beloved of this blog, had you no reflective surface before you got dressed in the morning?  Were you so distracted by your rugrats that you forgot to check your reflection before you left the house?    Or are you one of the many unfortunates deprived of that basic celebrity necessity?  Look at those pants!  We are in a state of emergency.  The need for mirrors among celebrities is dire, and the problem is only getting worse.

We can’t hope to fix the problem overnight, but we can give what we’ve got to help stem the tide of fashion and beauty disasters currently flooding the streets of Hollywood.  There are those whose bangs more resemble a crew cut than a soft fringe.  There are those who look at us innocently from behind raccoon eyes of excessive eyeshadow and mascara, unaware of their hideous plight.  How can we turn our backs on these suffering idols?  Take out your checkbooks, dig through your attics for old mirrors, and give back to those who have given us so much.  Give a celebrity a mirror, and help make the world (as represented by that cultural mecca, Los Angeles) a better place.  We here at iliketheworldfuzzy thank you, and with your help, we will put a mirror in the home of every celebrity.  Never stop trying, and keep on seeing the world fuzzy!

 

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How I write for my blog

Deutsch: Der Denker durch Auguste Rodin. Grubl...

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My legions of adoring fans often ask me, how do you write such incredible blog entries?  Well, two people have asked me what goes into keeping a blog.  So I thought I’d post a breakdown of how I spend my time while drafting a blog entry:

1.  Trying to think of hilarious ideas for blog post:  15 minutes

2.  Criticizing all ideas thought of as lame, boring, and/or ridiculous:  10 minutes

3.  Picking least lame/boring/ridiculous idea and beginning blog post:  3 minutes

 

4.  Drafting first half of blog post, thinking, “Actually, this isn’t half bad.  I’m really quite brilliant.  This is going to be hilarious!”:  20 minutes

5.  Finishing draft of blog post, thinking, “Good God, this was a suck idea.  What on earth possessed me to write about this?”:  15 minutes

6.  Saving draft of post just in case:  2 minutes

7.  Surfing other people’s sites for inspiration and becoming increasingly dispirited at how much better their blogs are than mine:  20 minutes

8.  Wandering off to get a snack and maybe watch some videos of frogs playing Itunes apps on YouTube by way of distracting myself from my inferiority:  30 minutes

9.  Playing Itunes apps on ipod and trying to beat frog’s high score:  15 minutes

10.  Reorganizing my shoes:  15 minutes

11.  Reluctantly returning to my blog and re-reading my blog post, thinking “Well, I doubt I’ll come up with anything better, so I might as well go with this”:  10 minutes

12.  Finding suitable image for blog by typing into Google such word combinations as “cat sock surgery” and “funny sunglasses restaurant”: 10 minutes

13.  Reviewing finished draft, looking up whether “alcohol-induced” has a hyphen (it does) and hesitating over whether I want to reveal to my readers my lack of talent once and for all:  15 minutes

14.  Publishing post:  1 minute

15.  Responding to comments and apologizing to people I’ve offended with said post and comment replies:  well into next day

So there you have it:  a typical blog post routine.  To those I’ve offended or will offend with my replies to comments, I apologize in advance in the hopes that I can save myself some time tomorrow, because I’m going to need it in order to think of another idea for the next post.  The blog, she is always hungry!

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Why I would make a good spy

Spy vs. Spy

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It’s always good to have a backup career, just in case, and I think that if I weren’t doing what I’m doing, I’d make a good spy.  For all the government types trolling the blogs, looking for hints or clues or chatter or whatever technical term you’re using these days, here’s why:

1.  I have my own trenchcoat.  From the extensive research I’ve done, by which I mean all the movies and television shows I’ve watched, this appears to be essential.  We’re in cost-cutting mode, of course, and I think it says something about my dedication that I’ve already invested in this crucial piece of equipment.  I’m always looking to help out with the federal deficit.

2.  I wear sunglasses all the time already, even indoors.  No one thinks twice about a blind girl wearing sunglasses; she’s supposed to.  It would be weird if she didn’t.  I suppose the sunglasses on spies are supposed to mask where their eyes are looking, or make sure the glare from the sun or the artificial lights doesn’t interfere with vision, so hey, I’ve already got that covered.  Man, it’s like I’m a spy already!

3.  My seeing eye dog could be trained for super-secret spy stuff.  I don’t actually have a seeing eye dog, but I’m eligible for one, and I could train mine to sniff out drugs and bombs and maybe to alert me to the presence of surveillance technology.  Dogs get trained to do all sorts of things these days.  Do you think it would be too much if I named the dog Q?  What about 99?

4.  I can run flat out in four inch stiletto heels.  I’ve learned this not only on my long string of first dates, but also from constantly running late while on the job.  I can run surprisingly quickly while in heels and carrying an armful of books, files, and papers.  Imagine what I could do in a sexy dress with a gun.  Go on, imagine it!

5.  I have super awesome hearing.  I can’t see a darn thing, but I can be sitting at a table halfway across a crowded cafe and eavesdrop on a conversation in lowered voices without anyone realizing I’m doing it.  I’ve already put this to the test in a few casual situations, with the result that I’ve learned that it’s honestly best not to know most of the time.  But hey, for the good of the country, I’m willing to suffer through.

I’d make the most awesome spy.  Federal agencies, you are On Notice.  I expect the men in black to show up any day now, offer in hand.  Of course, since I will have heard them coming, I’ll sneak up behind them in my trenchcoat and sunglasses, with my superdog and my four inch heels, and murmur, “Looking for someone?”  At which point they will jump five feet in the air, panic, and shoot me immediately.  Oh, well.  Maybe sneaking up on secret agents isn’t the best idea.  I guess I’ll just open the door.

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Sleep, be not proud

English: A Sleeping moon in a cap.

Image via Wikipedia

Ah, sleep, my coy mistress.  Stay a while, lay beside me, share my bed.  You’ve been so shy of late, I wondered if we had quarreled while my back was turned.  I missed you as I lay awake last night, remembering the sweetness of your caress.  I am no fly-by-night lover, no one-night stand; I dream of a life-long commitment, a bed shared nightly, perhaps a few late afternoon trysts in the warm sunshine.  I dream of a lingering touch, of selves entwined, no union more perfect than ours.

Did I make you unhappy when I dallied with a daydream?  It was a passing encounter, over before it began.  It could never rival the bond we share, who have lain so many nights together, shared so many dreams together, been afraid together, been warm together, been restless and peaceful and content together.  What could a daydream, a frivolous, fluttering daydream, know of that?  Was it only the other morning I left your side, unwilling, grudging, craving only to remain?  Come back, sleep, to where you belong, and I promise no daydream will ever come between us again.

Drowsy, I stumble to bed, wishing only for your companionship.  I lie in the dark, waiting, hoping, needing.  I endlessly devise seductions and abductions to bring you back to my embrace.  Sleep, sleep, what have I done that you would treat me so, what harm have I inflicted that keeps you from my side?  Come back to me, sleep, grace me with your attentions, wrap your languorous limbs around me and stifle my lecherous lamentations.  I humble myself before you, my own, my beloved, my absent mistress, sleep.

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Beware the frog

For the waiting, who asked for a post on frogs.  There are so many apps and games featuring frogs in all sorts of undignified settings; I think it’s high time the frogs got a little of their own back.

 

I can’t wait to see what happens with Angry Birds!  Also, does anyone else get the idea that this is the frog that was supposed to be their prince?

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Crackdified Trivial Pursuit

When we were in school, my friends and I played Trivial Pursuit in the snack bar.  There was only the one edition, year after year, so we eventually came to know all the answers.  Rather than moving on to another game, however, we just morphed that one into its own beast.  We would rope in more and more people into something that became an amalgamation of Charades, Twenty Questions, and Truth or Dare.  We called it Crackdified Trivial Pursuit.

The rules of Crackdified Trivial Pursuit, as far as there are any, are as follows:  you keep to the normal game directions until it comes time to give the answer.  If the person whose turn it is to answer the question is unable to think of the answer right away, those who know the answer because they’ve played that edition about a hundred times will start giving clues.  For instance:

Questioner:  What is the capital of Peru?

Peanut Gallery:  “Blank” beans!  “Blank” beans!  Oh, what do you mean you can’t get the answer from that?  All right, all right:  the flavor of Sprite is lemon-a, “blank”!

If the person still couldn’t get it, the rest of the players would start acting out the answer a la Charades.  “OK.  1 word, 4 letters.  Rhymes with…Wonder Woman?  Buffy the Vampire Slayer?  Oh, Xena!  The Warrior Princess??”

The person trying to answer the question could also ask questions to try to narrow down what the answer might be.  This was especially helpful in categories like Science and Nature, but less so in History; it doesn’t help to ask “Alive or dead?” if you’re trying to figure out the answer to “Who won the battle of Waterloo?”  At least, not unless your educational system has completely failed you.

Nachos with Chilli

Image via Wikipedia

We usually had a pretty good crowd going, so we could almost always get it by this point, but if that didn’t work and the person gave up, they had to take the questioner’s pick of Truth or Dare.  If the crowd was feeling restless and we agreed that it was the questioner’s fault, then the questioner had to take his victim’s choice of Truth or Dare.  Being starving students, we would also allow the person to avoid this by getting appetizers for the table.  Loaded nachos were favored, but resulted in some truly disgusting cards by the time graduation rolled around.

What strikes me most about this, though, is that there weren’t any teams and yet we were all trying to help each other win.  We just wanted to have a good time.  I’m not sure we ever even finished a game.  I miss that attitude.  I miss those nachos.  Also, I racked up some seriously inane knowledge this way.  Nobody needs to know what a thin layer of chromatography is.

P.S.  For those of you who are of age, this makes an awesome drinking game.  Play Crackdified Trivial Pursuit responsibly!  Can you believe my spellcheck doesn’t like the word “crackdified”?

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The return of the evil hamster

The Little Blind Girl has gone out to run errands, so I, the Evil Hamster, will be writing today’s blog entry.  Yes, let the sycophantic cheers and the wailing and lamentations from the unbelievers echo through the streets:  the Evil Hamster is back!

I see that my soft-hearted mistress has been tagged with an Internet Meme and, being the shy and retiring creature that she is, has been reluctant to take up the challenge.  But I, who have no such inhibitions, shall gladly put forward this manifesto of Ten Burning Questions as tagged from Sunny Side Up!

1.  Describe yourself in seven words:

Genius, Visionary, Brilliant, Terrifying, Awe-inspiring, Legendary, Furry.

2.  What keeps you up at night:

Perfecting my plans for world domination.

3.  Who would I like to be?

How could I want to be anyone other than myself?  There are those who weep and gnash their teeth because they cannot approach the glory that is me.  But if I had to be someone else, I suppose I could deal with being Napoleon.  Had I been fighting the Battle of Waterloo, history would have taken a very different course.

4.  What are you wearing right now?

There is no apparel in this world more magnificent than my fur coat.  Cruelty-free, of course; all my cruelty comes from inside!

5.  What scares you?

Nothing!  I am fearless, I am what the monster under the bed has nightmares about.  I stalk the streets in the certain knowledge that the worst thing lurking in the shadows is me.  When you turn out the lights and climb into your warm, comfortable beds and close your eyes at night, remember that somewhere out there, preparing for his great moment, is the Evil Hamster.

6.  The best and worst of blogging:

I see my mistress slaving away at the blog and wonder at the effort she puts in to a mere four or five hundred words nearly every day.  She starts out each post saying, “This is going to be the funniest post ever!” and ends it by saying, “I’m not even sure I should publish this.  It’s garbage!  No one’s going to laugh at this.”  I have never experienced self-doubt, but I think it must be the worst part of blogging.  The best part, of course, is the comments, which is probably why my mistress keeps at it every day.

7.  The last website you visited:

http://worlddominationsummit.com/.  I’ve been asked to be the keynote speaker.

8.  What is the one thing you would change about yourself?

I am the pinnacle of evolution!  Everything about me is what life has been striving to create for billennia!  But now that you mention it, I think I’d make myself a bit…taller.

9.  Slankets, yes or no?

My God, man!  What sort of a blog do you think this is?

10.  Tell us something about the person who tagged you:

Lori Ann Franks, who writes Sunny Side Up, is not personally known to me.  However, since my  soft-hearted mistress regularly reads and laughs uproariously at her blog, I suppose I may spare her come the revolution.  She appears to be a very erudite, humorous writer who possesses both common sense and a sense of the bizarre, a rare and worthwhile combination.  I may install her as court jester, or perhaps as personal groomer; I will definitely not, however, make her the official driver!

Our training program is still in its infancy

Ah, I hear my mistress at the door.  I must leave you now and return to my training camps to inspire the recruits.  Remember, when you hear a tiny click-clack from somewhere behind the walls and you wonder what’s creeping about, the Evil Hamster is laying his plans!  You will never know what is coming until the blow falls!  Viva la revolución!

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