I promised more pictures, so here is Ash and Mia in the woods part deux! (Plus, a bonus accidental tree attack that was too serendipitous to not photograph. Needless to say, there were quite a few silly outtakes for this endeavor, and I might post some of those later, too.)

Thank you all for your reblogs and likes. We spent months screencapping, crafting, and tracking to put these costumes together, and we really appreciate your support. Once again, another big thank you to Amanda — amandamarie105.tumblr.com — for doing this photoshoot for us. <3

You can find the first photoset here: http://peppermintteatime.tumblr.com/post/65252096533/a-super-groovy-halloween-to-you-all-from-ash-and


A super groovy Halloween to you all from Ash and Mia.

(More photos to come later. A massive thank you to Amanda — amandamarie105.tumblr.com — for taking such lovely photographs of our tomfoolery. <3)


Anonymous asked: Hi Miranda! If you were a superhero what would your superpower be? And none of that "ability to steal all powers" bullshit because we all know it's cheap and false, like the dreams of most communication majors.

Hello, anon! Don’t you worry your pretty little head. If I were a superhero, I would most certainly NOT wish for the ability to steal all powers because I couldn’t deal with that nonsense. It’d be groovy gravy if ALL powers were useful all of the time, but I’m convinced that some powers out there just straight-up blow.

Reading minds, for instance: while it’d be nice to know what people are thinking every now and then, I’d really be quite fine not knowing what the super weird dude at the mall is thinking as he carefully slinks through the aisles of Victoria’s Secret.

Invisibility is another one that I don’t think I could handle. While I’d love being able to screw with people by pretending to be a ghost or something, I’m pretty sure you’d have to walk around naked for the power to truly work (unless you want to create the illusion that you are nothing more than a walking outfit). Bearing that in mind, what if something happened to make the power die out momentarily? Like if someone were to inadvertently punch me in the boob as I was walking down the street because he/she didn’t see me, and then, in my intense pain, all of a sudden, it’s like WHAM! And then I get arrested for indecent exposure? No. Nope. Non. Nein. I’ve come too far to be arrested for public nakedness. Although I suppose I could strip down and jailbreak, but then I’d be a naked fugitive. There’s no winning.

I’m digressing a little, though. I’ve always dug Spider-Man because he can swing around cities and fire webs at people who really frost his cookies, which is ideal because no one enjoys getting covered in spiderwebs, and if someone were to upset me, I could just go “THWIP” in his/her face. Guaranteed, the person wouldn’t know how to handle that. You shouting “DID YOU JUST WEB IN MAH FACE?!” will attract more attention to you than it will to me. Also, at the same time, I’ve always felt kindred to Peter Parker because of his smartass-ness.


But, on the other hand, I’m not too into spiders; I respect them, but I don’t love them. I do, however, love owls… And if there can be radioactive spiders, then dagnabbit, there can be radioactive owls.

Here is an extensive 5-part thesis as to why I’d like to be Owl-Girl, the owl pellet-slinging superhero:

I’d really dig being bitten by a radioactive owl because (1) I could fly, (2) I could see things awesomely at night, (3) I’d have some seriously awesome talons, (4) the soft hoot of the owl is tremendously soothing and I could easily calm down those who are upset by cooing at them, and (5) just as people hate being covered in spiderwebs, people also don’t like having owl pellets launched into their faces, so I could go “THWAPPP” at people who upset me and flee the scene of the crime as they loudly announce “AWW HECK NAH, YOU DID NOT JUST OWL PELLET IN MAH FACE.” Again, an exclamation of that sort will draw far more attention to them than it will to the girl nonchalantly flapping away into the soft crimson blaze of the sunset.

In honor of this momentous occasion, I’ve penned a little ditty, sung to the original Spider-Man theme: “Owl-Girl, Owl-Girl, does whatever an Owl-Girl does-irl. Beautiful talons, very big. When she hoots at you, you’ll dance a jig. LOOK OUT, here comes the Owl-Girllll.”

But if I’m being realistic here, I’d also enjoy any sort of superpower that would allow me the ability to sound like every sort of musical instrument ever. Like I could say a sentence in a standard way, but then I could go into psychedelic sitar mode and recite said sentence in an incredibly George Harrisonian manner. I could read Allen Ginsberg aloud in bongo mode and create a beautiful crash of melodious consonants. I could read 50 Shades of Grey aloud in porn guitar mode and fall on the floor laughing for hours. THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS.

Aside from that, though, I would also really appreciate the ability to make all kinds of coffee, tea, and smoothies (ALIAS: BARISTARIA) because — like the elusive communications major — I am both an English major and a philosophy minor, and I was told to have a back-up plan if teaching doesn’t work out, so, I mean…


Horror: The Insatiable Modern Audience and the Seemingly Ineffective Genre

Under the cut lies the literary journalism piece that I wrote for my creative nonfiction class. The piece is about modern horror films and the ways in which they are viewed and interpreted by today’s audiences.


I’m a huge horror junkie, and I could have written until the cows come home, but in the interest of keeping this piece from getting too long, I only focused on a few movies in particular (regardless of how much I wanted to address other films, the piece could have very easily become a monstrous thesis, and I wanted to avoid that — but, I mean, remakes, torture porn, and female survivor tropes alone warrant a thesis, and they are only briefly mentioned here). At the same time, I had a number of sources, but I didn’t directly cite any of them in the interest of keeping the piece from looking too bonkers.

Also, while I know some people are probably not too fond of footnotes, I would like to encourage readers to click the footnote links at the ends of sentences (represented by [1], [2], [3] and so on and such forth) and read them as they go along. I intended for my footnotes to serve as funny little sidenotes or supplementary research to bolster my ideas, and I think the piece loses something without these constructs. Although, if you’re not into that, that’s cool, dude. I won’t force you. I’m actually just stoked that you’re willing to read my insights in the first place.

With that, I would like to extend the warmest of thank yous to all who helped me write this. From giving me your opinions on horror, to recommending websites or articles that I should check out, to merely helping me renegotiate some thoughts here and there when nothing was making sense, you’ve helped me tremendously. You guys are my heroes.

And, with that, let’s do this thang.

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Bruce Campbell — Ash Williams, himself — once said, “you know you’ve had the misfortune of meeting a true Evil Dead fan because they won’t fucking shut up about it.” Hi, guys. That’s me. I’m sorry, but I will not shut up about Evil Dead any time soon, and I have no idea if any of you are even fans or interested in seeing the new one, but before you shout “REMAKES ARE LAME, DUDE,” I wanted to get this stuff out there from the point of view of a hardcore fan rather than a stuffy movie critic.

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Anonymous asked: I only know how to ask one question anonymously: favorite sex position?


I invented this last year, and it doesn’t really have a name yet. Hmm.

I’m officially calling it the “Tom Cruise Koala Slamdown.”


For this, you will need:

(1) a glass cutter,

(2) rope,

(3) a harness,

(4) a Mission Impossible era Tom Cruise outfit/impression (study this over and over: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5SMYognL2t4),

(5) a real eucalyptus tree. Or a fake one. You know, whatever floats your boat, anon,

(6) a couch, bed, or something cozy and big enough for two people to fit on,

(7) koala ears. Not like, real koala ears. Like a fake koala ear headband thing. I will judge you if you use real koala ears.

This works best if you have a skylight somewhere in your love nest. Position the real or fake eucalyptus tree underneath that skylight. Position the couch/bed/something comfortable enough for two people to fit on in front of the real/fake eucalyptus tree beneath the skylight. If you don’t have a skylight, then I fully expect you or your partner to play Marco Polo to find out where you or your partner is and come down through the roof instead. I will judge you if you aren’t committed enough to cut through your roof for this.

From here, either you or your partner should dress up like Tom Cruise in MI, go outside of said love nest, hook the harness up, grab the rope, scale the building humming the MI theme (I find the experience is enriched if you blast the MI theme throughout the entire place, but I won’t judge you if you don’t do this), and prepare the glass cutter. The glass cutter’s sole purpose is to cut through either the skylight or the roof. I will judge you if you incorporate the glass cutter into your experience for any other purpose.

While this is happening, either you or your partner (whoever decides to fulfill the koala requirements; I’m a koala myself), should scale the real or fake eucalyptus tree wearing nothing but the fake koala ears. If you have the real koala ears, I don’t know what to tell you because if you wear those on your head, I will judge you.

Anyway, the koala should do one of these numbers on a branch that’s easily accessible from beneath the skylight/roof hole:


Now here’s where it gets tricky. You or your partner (whoever is the Tom Cruise) needs to use the rope and the harness to swing down through the hole in your skylight/roof, and he/she/you needs to grab the koala, he/she/you, out of the tree on the way down. Are those pronouns confusing? I’m sorry. But if that’s the only confusing thing about this, you’re gonna have a great time. Promise. Pinky swearsies.

Anyway, so then the Tom Cruise will propel him/herself down, still holding the koala, onto the couch. From here — depending on you and your partner’s biological sexes — you will position yourselves sitting down as comfortably as you can.

As a girl, I find that the most comfortable sitting position for my sex is to cross my legs over one another.


If you or your partner is a man, he might sit like this with more of a gap because that might be more comfortable of a biological sex sitting position:


Or, you know, if you aren’t hindered by your sexes’ sitting positions, you can feel free to mix it up. This is about MY favorite biological sex position though, so I prefer the crossing.

From here, you’re gonna continue these comfy positions and watch a movie of your choosing. It’s almost Christmas, so I think Elf is a lovely choice.

So yeah! That’s my favorite position for my sex, and my favorite method of initiating it.

Lastly, EXERCISE SAFE SITTING, FOLKS. Keep that glass cutter out of there because one of you might sit on it, and ouch. Also, I will judge you.


lol funny 


Anonymous asked: So, I--a completely anonymous person--was wondering if you could go anywhere in the world that was not Europe/Canada/USA where would you go? Why?

Well, completely anonymous person, my first impulse would be to say New Zealand because that’s where the Lord of the Rings was filmed, and it looks gloriously beautiful. Plus, speaking of the Lord of the Rings, if I were in New Zealand, I’d be really tempted to dress up like a hobbit and mess with people (I’m sure I’m the very first person to think of that). Now, for your viewing pleasure, here’s one of my favorite photos on the internet.


A little more personal though, at the same time, I want to visit Australia because I feel like it gets a bad rap, mostly because most people think it is monstrously deadly there.


(Picture courtesy of cracked.com.)

This all began when I did a presentation in a geography class on Australia. I chose Australia because of said bad rap, thinking it would be fun to study a place where everything wants to kill you.

What I found out, however, was quite the opposite. Rather, the exoticism in Australia makes people want to tell everyone that everything is deadly, when in reality, the animals ARE deadly, but not THAT deadly. I mean, they’d be hella deadly if you tried to share a house with all of them or something like some weird sitcom, but if you’re not planning on shacking up with a saltwater croc, a great white shark, a funnel web spider, and a blue ringed octopus, and you exercise Australian safety, you’ll be fine.

Bearing that in mind, during my presentation, I spoke in a cathartic manner about the non-deadliness of most of the animals there, until I was rudely cut off by my professor right when I was about to drive my point home because I “had gone on too long.” I’m not bitter. Promise. But she’s probably an Australian Deadliness Prejudiced person. Just saying.

But really, though. Why should we allow the dangerousness of animals to keep us from experiencing such an awesome place? Especially when the animals aren’t that dangerous?

Look at these baby platypi.



End Australian Deadliness Prejudice 2012.


Anonymous asked: What is the proper response to unwanted or unsolicited holiday gifts? I mean, what does one say to a can of Cheesey SPAM, a Justin Beeber singing toothbrush, , Pajama Jeans, feather underpants, or DIY Dentistry kit?

First and foremost, I would argue that this is the appropriate initial response to receiving such horrendous gifts, courtesy of Garfunkel and Oates: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yMWTs0YT928

Secondly, what I do in situations like these — or when I receive more than one of a particular item that I wanted — is think of alternate ways to use them!



There was a monologue I did in theatre a few years ago from a play by Christopher Durang, wherein a woman talks about becoming so frustrated at the grocery store when a man won’t move out of her way, so she finally can’t take it anymore, grabs a can of tuna, and clobbers him over the head with it.

That being said, (1) place can of cheese SPAM in purse, (2) using firm grip on can of cheese SPAM, clobber people in grocery stores who won’t get out of your way. BAM. You’ll be so pleased with its performance that you may even want to eat it, but you’ll hopefully decide against that because then you won’t be able to use this tactic again, and that would be highly unfortunate. Plus, cheese SPAM is just… I mean, it’s… No. If I’m being polite here, no.



Ok… Here’s what you’re going to do. I’m assuming this works with some sort of button to start the singing, right? Tape the button down, and place this baby boy singer toothbrush in random public places. If you can, muffle the sound a little bit. Everyone will wonder where Justin Bieber is coming from, but they will not be able to find him. Mwahahaha.

Let me just say that this will be especially satisfying when the batteries wind down because — if Bieby toofbrushes are anything like ’90s era Furbys when their batteries run out of juice — the toothbrush will slow down and begin to sound like Satan incarnate. Then, people will think that Satanic Biebz is on the loose, and, I mean, if you’ve ever wanted an entire coffee shop to yourself, that’s one way to get everyone to clear out.



There’s no excuse for these. The first thing I’ll ask you to do is hold onto one of the pantlegs firmly — after making the present face — and slap your friend across the face with the pantleg. “Oh, you’re so silly!” they’ll utter, but come on now.

That being said, these may come in handy when solicitors come a-knocking. Instead of peeking through the peephole and pretending you’re not there, just open the door slowly, let them begin their little spiel, and then nonchalantly throw the pants at their face when they ask if you’re interested, and stoically shut your door.

Also, I hear tell that pajama pants work even better than SHAMWOWs for cleaning up messes in the kitchen, and they’re like, machine washable, so…



But why wouldn’t you want these? I mean, WHY NOT? They’re so practical!

Here’s what you’re going to do with this: (1) put all unwanted feather underpants in a box, (2) mail that box to me.

If you don’t want to do that, I suppose you could always tear the extra feathers off the undies and use them for arts and crafts. The underwear itself might function as an interesting hat, if you’re feeling a bit saucy.



Don’t feel like stabbing yourself in the gums over and over again and then scolding yourself for not flossing more because apparently you should be flossing your teeth with barbed wire? NO PROBLEM.

These dentistry tools can come in handy around the house! That scraper thingie? Well, I mean, if you’ve ever wanted to carve your name into the underside of your expensive coffee table, then look no further. That tiny mirror? If you’re sneaky enough, you can use it as a mini human side view mirror, so that you never have to worry about people sneaking up on you. I’m not sure what else comes in one of those nifty kits, but just lean with it and rock with it.

All in all: As Taoists believe, naming objects limits them. Once you call a dental tool a pointy death stick, it shall be known as a pointy death stick forevermore, and never as a coffee table scraper. Once you call a can of cheese SPAM a can of cheese SPAM, it loses its deadly projectile qualities. Once you call a Justin Bieber toothbrush a Justin Bieber toothbrush, you can no longer call it a Justin Bieber annoyance stick (with or without Satan Bieber power). Once you… Well, I think you get the idea.

To wrap everything up (in a lovely Christmas bow): (1) present face, (2) look for other ways to use that nonsense so that it doesn’t go to waste. Everyone wins.


cjasay asked: So I just found out I have a tumbler. Had it for a while I guess.... and my computer kept me singed in. You are now officially the only blog I follow on here. Is that cool? I had to add that question because I'm supposed to ask you something... Are you still apologizing to your sweaters and hoodies? This weather is way too hot!!! I asked that second question to show that I read something of yours and to show my frustration at december... and november... and october. Yeah

Colin, you are wonderful. :)

I am honored and touched that I am the only blog you follow on here.


On top of that, I believe that you are the very first person to ask me a non-anonymous (that’s fun to say) question.


As far as my hoodies and sweaters go, I probably should have replied to this question a hell of lot earlier because there’s snow on the ground and it’s freezing outside today.

That being said, my sweaters and hoodies are partying on me right now.

Ok, that came out weird… I mean that my sweaters and hoodies are draped against my cold body constantly now.

That was weird, too.

I don’t think there’s any delicate way to say that.


As far as the weather before today goes, I highly disapprove of Colorado’s severe hotness during October and November and part of this month as well.

I find it highly unsettling when I don’t have to wear 12 layers when hanging up Christmas lights, and on top of that, seeing children come to my door on Halloween without creative ways of incorporating their jackets into their costumes is just… Well, it’s not wrong, but it’s not right. I, for one, live for that creativity. Like, instead of a kid being Han Solo in A New Hope, a kid dresses up as Hoth Han Solo circa The Empire Strikes Back? GENIUS. CANDY FOR YOU AND YOUR PARENTS. 4 FOR YOU, HAN SOLO. YOU GO, HAN SOLO.



Anonymous asked: If you can be disgruntled, why can't you be gruntled? No one ever says," Look at the gruntled children!" What about all the grungled postal workers who never get attention? My cat looks totally gruntled when she sits on my keyboard. What the heck is up?

You bring up a fascinating point, dearest anon.

In fact, you know what?

I’m going to compose a definition for “gruntled” right now, using a combination of highly scientific reversal techniques.

Firstly, here’s a definition of “disgruntled,” courtesy of Google:

dis·grun·tled  /disˈgrəntld/

(Adj.) Angry or dissatisfied.

If this is what it entails for one to be disgruntled, then we can then assume that the definition of gruntled will be the opposite of disgruntled.
Therefore, the correct definition of gruntled is as follows, and I quote:

grun·tled  / grəntld/

(Adj.) Disangry or disdissatisfied.

BOOM. Gruntled has been defined!

Therefore, we can now describe happy people as being gruntled, and dishappy people as being disgruntled.

Anon, I’m leaving it in your hands to — like Justin Timberlake brought sexy back — bring gruntled back.




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