An Explanation for my Leave of Absence

  Sorry I haven't posted in a while, dudes, but I'm here to tell you that it might be a while before I post again anyway. Don't worry, it's nothing to serious or bad or (I hope) life-threatening; it's just that I finished writing my book and now have to move on to typing it up and editing it in proper novel format so I can send it off to a publisher soon and hopefully avoid getting a "real" job. Since I can only type up my book on those days when I get to the library or the computer lab at school, if I finish my work early enough, I won't be able to post on here as much as I normally probably would, unless something miraculaous happens in the way of an Internet-connected laptop falling from the sky and magically landing at my feet without shattering into a million technological pieces.
  But don't worry, NiteOwl will be back. I just have some spacing to work on first.

Just in Case I'm Not Back Before Then...

  No, not because the world is going to end. That's over and done with, and as far as I know we're still here. And if we're not, I don't think whether I post or not on my blog is top priority for anyone out there. No, I mean just in case I'm not back before Christmas is over I wanted to wish you all well (or Festivus, for those of you that celebrate it as I did for the first time this year).
  Merry Christmas. Happy New Year. Go play in the snow, if you're lucky enough to have any. Watch Disney movies and the Harry Potter marathon on ABC Family. Eat lots of food you've been told to fear. Tell people exactly what you think of them. Give presents, because they say that's better than getting them. Celebrate the fact that all those crazy people were wrong and the world didn't end (or mourn, if that's the way you feel about it). Don't drink and drive. Make a child smile; don't be "that guy" and make them cry. Basically, be safe, have fun, and enjoy your various holiday festivities. 

--Love, NiteOwl 

How to Deconstruct a Snowman

  How many of you guys watch Frosty the Snowman every year at Christmastime? Here's another question: How many of you actually think it makes sense? Because the more I watch it, the less patience I have for it and the more I find myself wondering who the heck edited that pile of crap, and who told that editor he did a good enough job to get that thing put on TV? I mean, I know not everything has to make sense--it's a talking, dancing snowman, for God's sake. But couldn't it have been fact-checked just a little better? Because after all...

• Frosty doesn't know how to count, or what things like traffic lights are. Understandable, since he just came to life. But somehow he knows what a thermometer is and what its purpose is, when the red climbs high that it's bad for him, and, oh yeah, the higher the temperature is the worse it is for him. And yet, the snowman can't count. How does he know what high numbers are?
• And speaking of high numbers, why was the temperature like ninety degrees in December, and yet there was snow falling from the sky and on the ground?
• Why aren't those children dressed for winter weather? Some of the boys have on heavy sweaters...with shorts. Karen has a coat, boots, earmuffs and gloves on, but apparently, no pants. One girl is running around in a pink jumper. What the heck, man? I mean, half the problems in this movie could have been avoided if Karen had just been wearing pants.
• In some scenes, Frosty has four fingers; in others, he has five.
• How did the rabbit know the train was heading north? Sure, it was probably pointing in that direction, but trains can turn. What if it made a U-ey at some junction somewhere and traveled on down to Phoenix? Frosty would've really been screwed.
• The train Frosty, Hocus, and Karen were on stopped to apparently let a train full of Christmas travelers go by. The other train crossed behind them. Seriously.
• How did Frosty know of the office of President or what the Marines were?
• Professor Hinkle stalked them and then, as Karen was freezing to death, blew out her fire. He was apparently willing to commit child murder to get a dang hat back. I don't care if the hat was magic or not; that's pretty drastic.
• When Karen and Frosty went into the greenhouse, Frosty simply pulled the door open and walked inside. When Professor Hinkle slammed the door shut to "trap" them, he didn't lock it or anything. If Frosty or Karen had just pushed the door open again, they would have been able to get out and Frosty wouldn't have melted. Oh, yeah, Santa pulled the door open, too, without unlocking it or using Santa magic or anything.
• Santa left Karen on the roof, with no visible way of getting down.

  At least Frosty knew enough to stay away from the fire.

The Best Time to Wear an Ugly Sweater...

  ...is never. Unless it's Christmas.
  You wanna know something? I've always felt kind of like I was missing out on some sort of weird holiday thing because I never had an ugly sweater. I mean, the ugly Christmas sweater is a staple of sitcom episodes and bad holiday movies alike, not to mention some peoples' funny stories of bad Christmas gifts and amusing holiday gathering and several Harry Potter books. 
  So I did it. I had an Old Navy gift card lying around that I was never really gona use for anything, and it's Christmastime (well, at the mall it's been Christmastime since Halloween) so Old Navy is chock-full of sweaters of all kinds. I bought an ulgy sweater. I walked into the store, turned the corner, and there it was on a lower shelf, next to a much prettier sister-sweater (do you think there was any sibling rivalry there?). Fate. The very first sweater I saw was butt-ugly.   
  So I bought it. And I'm proud. It makes my friends' eyes burn, although my parents and relatives say it's "very nice" and seem to mean it, somehow. And you know what? I love my ugly sweater. It's ugly, but it's mine. It's ugly and I'm proud, to paraphrase that wise sage SpongeBob.
  So feast your eyes, and then watch your eyeballs become bulimic as they vomit it right back up!

  Sorry that the picture's sideways; my friend's phone said the regular-way file was too big to send. So I apologize for both the eye-vomit and neck-strain I'm probably putting you through. But I do love that dang crappy sweater.

  Merry Christmas. 

Wow, America.

  Just...wow. That's really all I can say about this.

Clearly, It's Once Again the End of the World

  Think about it, people. We've got Hurricane Sandy getting ready to pound us like we owe her money, Tropical Storm (or is it Hurricane? I'd like to be respectful) Tony making his way over the ocean, there's supposed to be some snow mixed in with the rain, there's a bacon shortage, and it's 2012. Clearly most of the population is about to be wiped out in some Day After Tomorrow-style disaster, so I decided to share some helpful tips I've pulled from various training films (a.k.a. disaster movies/TV shows that don't suck) to help those I can to survive--and yes, it probably helped that I watched the aforementioned movie this week in Meteorology class, I suppose. 

•  Stock up on supplies. Bacon, M&Ms, chips...you know, all the essentials. Oh, and don't forget Twinkies--you know they'll survive, even if half your family doesn't. More for you. Plus, you should probably have some nonperishables around, because that's always what the people in the movies (the ones who have smart screenwriters, anyway) do. Oh, yeah, and some medicines and stuff, just so you don't have to trek outside in Ice Age weather to salvage supplies from the cruise ship that just floated past your bedroom window.
• Get to high ground. Lava flows downwards. So do giant cascades of water, mudslides, rock slides, and other fun things like that. Unless, of course, the world chooses to be difficult and end in a giant sweep of F5 tornadoes like the one in the end of Twister, in which case, if you don't want to end up like that cow, you head downstairs, to a basement or bathroom without windows. 
• Don't get hurt. Unless you've followed step one and hoarded medicines already.
• You know that little light of yours? Let it shine. Hoard candles, I don't care if they make your man-cave smell like Yankee Candle or not. After all, in every disaster movie the disaster is heralded by a massive power outage of some sort, and I highly doubt the electric company is gonna be out there repairing power lines while aliens are shooting at them from all sides.  
• Get your crack team of survivors together. This group usually consists of: one smart person who foresaw the event but was ignored by the government (or the smart person's kid); two teenagers who like each other but who haven't shared their feelings yet (they're waiting for the right natural disaster/near-death situation to strike); one or more nerds/geeks; a pair of people (husband-wife, boyfriend/girlfriend, parent/child, friend/friend) who have been estranged for the past few years but are pushed together by whatever event is occurring; a silent man (or, rarely, woman) who will later reveal that he has all the skills you need to survive; a homeless man; the homeless man's dog. 
• Find the really smart guy. This is the guy who saw everything coming or at least knows how to survive it all, the one who can fight zombie soldiers and human looters with equal aplomb, the one who has a bone to pick with whoever ignored his dire warnings (usually the government). This man usually looks like Dennis Quaid, Liam Neeson, Harrison Ford twenty years ago, or Bruce Willis. Find this guy, and it's pretty much guaranteed you'll live to see the traditional end-of-the-movie "oh look the sky is clear now" shot that signifies the endurance of the human spirit and the hope of a brand-new day (or good box-office returns, whichever.). 
• Survive.   

Don't Be a Freaking Commie. Trick-or-Treat.

  Since Halloween will be here soon (all right, maybe like a month and a half, but I like the season. Shut up and sue me), I've decided to share with you an example I crafted last year for a friend of mine to explain to her the difference between Communism (which sucks) and capitalism (which is awesome). And yes, it involves trick-or-treating.
  Think about Halloween. Think about walking for hours and ringing hundreds of doorbells and, at houses where you're not chased away by angry dogs or extremely religious old people who call you an emissary of Satan and try to beat you with their cane, getting tons of candy. Not crappy hard candy, either, but the really good stuff. I'm talking full-size Hershey bars and king-sized Snickers and Reese's Cups and types of Skittles you never knew existed. Three bags full, all for you, because you went around and trick-or-treated to get it.
  All right, now that you have that lovely image in your head, think of somebody you don't like. I don't care who it is: your little brother, your ex (best friend or significant other), that creepy kid who stalked you freshman year. They didn't go trick-or-treating. They think that stuff is stupid. They didn't want to waste their time walking around and ringing strangers' doorbells. 
  But they want some of your awesome candy. And you have to give it to them.
  That's Communism for ya, kids. You work your butt off, tramping up and down your neighborhood and knocking on doors and occasionally getting chased by freaks or dogs or freaks with dogs all while wearing clothes that most likely are stranger than the ones you wear every day (unless you go to my high school or something), and then you have to give a nice big chunk of your sweet candy over to the annoying guy too lazy to go trick-or-treating for himself. And you can't pass off the few crappy hard candies or mints you got off onto him, no sir. He, like everybody else, wants the good stuff. 
  Now, picture this: YOU GET TO KEEP ALL THE CANDY YOU MAKE. Doesn't that sound awesome? And the lazy stalker kid from freshman year can sit there and whine all he wants; he's not getting any of your Reese's Pieces, no way. You get to sit there and shovel Milky Ways and Milk Duds and fun-sized Starburst down your gullet--right there in front of him if you want to, and most people typically do--and laugh, and drink soda and watch crappy horror movies on SyFy once you get back home. 
  That's capitalism. If you earned it, you get to keep it and eat it however and whenever you want. Isn't that much better than having to give it to Brian from history class who was too lazy to go out and trick-or-treat for himself and wants somebody else to trick-or-treat for him and subsidize his uselessness?
  Now, for everybody who didn't get that parable: Trick-or-treating is working. The annoying kid is both the government and the guy who wants the government to pay for everything, like healthcare and crap. The candy is your money, which you get to spend/eat however you want to in a glorious capitalistic society. You are you. And the crappy SyFy movies are just crappy SyFy movies. 
  Now, get out there and trick-or-treat!