No, no, no

Where Dad (and his side of the family) is from:

Where Mom (and her side of the family) is from:

I was reminded by some stupid commercial on NBC about how this month was Hispanic Heritage Month, and I quickly rolled my eyes because, to me, any heritage month is a stupid idea. Why do we need a month? Don't we already celebrate our heritage every single day of the year just by being who we are? I'm Mexican-American (yeah, I know, Sarver isn't a very "Mexican" last name. That's because it is not.), every single day of my life I know that I'm Mexican-American. I don't need a month to remind me about how important Celia Cruz is. She isn't important to me because I'm not Cuban-American. If it was Paquita la del Barrio, then it'd be a different story. That's the thing with these heritage months. They just lump everyone into one big group, when in reality, we're not just one big group. We're different groups who all just happen to speak Spanish, but even then, the way we speak Spanish differs from one another. Maybe a lot of people will disagree with me, however I stand by what I say, I don't want to be lumped into one group, I don't want a special month. I have twelve months where I get to celebrate my heritage. So take that, stupid commercial on NBC!

Snuff (or, I'm sorry for not showing you any real "scary" movies yet, Bearded Man)

Never trust a Netflix blurb. EVER. I was deceived and thought that a movie called Snuff would have been an all-around gore fest and terrifying movie because, well, the title of the movie is Snuff. Don't get me wrong, the movie was okay for a grindhouse movie, I'm a fan of low budget horror movies, but this movie was something else entirely.
One, it starts off like this:

It's as if all the cool girls got together and decided to make a movie with a soundtrack that included Argentine versions of  Steppenwolf and The Doors songs and really really bad editing and voice overs because this movie was made in Argentina but based in Chile. Why not just make it in Chile to begin with?

Two: It's loosely based on the Sharon Tate murder and the Charles Manson clan.

This is the leader, Satan (pronounced SAH-tan, not SAY-tan), and this is his crew

This is the movie's Sharon Tate, Terry London:

In the parts of the movie that made any sense, Satan and his girls were on a mission to kill Terry London and sacrifice her unborn child, because all of a sudden she was pregnant in the middle of the movie. When did that happen? I have no idea.
I actually thought it was going to be a good movie, but it turned out to be a big disappointment. Every time I tell Bearded Man that we're going to watch a good horror movie, it turns out that it wasn't even scary at all and he just looks at me "What was that?" My apologies, Bearded Man.
Next time, we're going to watch something by George A. Romero.

Friday's eve

Thank goodness that it's finally Thursday, my favorite day of the week. I like the eves of things.

 

Friday's eve includes:

Splitting this with Bearded Man.

Watching/catching up on this.

Thinking about getting tattoos.

Trying to make fabric selections.

Drooling

Today I was getting my The Sartorialist fix at lunch and could not stop staring at this beautiful dress

Now I have to add this to the growing list of DIY projects I have in mind.

Yeah, it's a bit on the simple side, but that's why I'm drawn to it.

Hipster baby

Babies scare and confuse me. One minute they're happy, the next they're not. And usually, if I hold them, they start crying immediately. They must sense that I don't have any maternal qualities . Sometimes the bearded man and I joke around about having a child and naming him Charlie Day and have him wear shirts with horses on them, but quickly remind ourselves that us minus baby equals happy us. So, thank goodness for nephews. This is baby Nomar, Bearded Man's nephew and today he hung out with us for a while. I flipped the bill on his little cap and made him into a hipster baby. He enjoyed it, I got a good laugh out of it, and then gave him back to his mom. That's how I like my babies, if they are nieces and nephews, young cousins, or even a younger sibling (like my beautiful baby sister, Pilar, who is three), and not actually my own.

Fake blood is very hard to wash off

This is how the night ended, coming home covered in fake blood, sore muscles, whiplash, and an almost chipped tooth from falling mouth open after stage diving (me).

But it began like this:

What a great way to start off this month. But next time, I'm standing in the back because this fake blood is not coming off anytime soon.

BLOOD FEAST! BLOOD FEAST!

Our Halloween movie marathon month begins today, and today is a special day. Tonight we are going to see Ghoul at Metro in Oakland and in honor of this, the inaugural movie is Blood Feast.

Tits, gore, bad acting. It's all you could ever want in a horror movie.

You can listen to Ghoul "Blood Feast" here. Enjoy! /m/