Zombies vs. Unicorns

I don’t know what I was expecting. Wait, no, I do; I was expecting zombies and unicorns battling to the death with humans looking on as the unlucky, occasionally gored/eaten bystanders. Then I realized it was a book of short stories edited by Holly Black (Team Unicorn) and Justine Larbalestier (Team Zombie). The stories are either about zombies or about unicorns (except for Garth Nix, who has both, which does not surprise me–you know he can’t get away from dead things–but they don’t even fight, so it doesn’t count). At first, I was impressed by the veritable YA lit author powerhouse they had assembled. The list includes: Maureen Johnson, Meg Cabot, Scott Westerfeld, and Carrie Ryan among others. But not even this could placate me for long about the total lack of zombie-on-unicorn action.

Also, admittedly, I have pretty high standards. Especially where zombies are concerned, being basically a Max Brooks-approved expert on the subject. Some of the stories were about the annoying, fluffy zombies who don’t try to kill people and mostly just make brain jokes and fall in love, clearly trying to lull us into a false sense of security for the impending zombocalypse. I disapprove in the strongest possible terms. In general, I also like unicorns to be ruthless, killing machines since–come on–they have a huge freaking weapon on their heads. If I had a horn, I would totally use it to maul people until they did my bidding.

I did kind of like Meg Cabot’s unicorn, clearly a parody, which farted a delicate floral scent and was named Princess Prettypants, and Naomi Novik’s, a shifty New York unicorn who doesn’t exactly play by the Unicorn Rulebook but, damn it, he gets results. On the zombie side, Carrie Ryan wrote an awesome, kickass-girl story in her Forest of Hands and Teeth universe, which I am already a fan of, and Scott Westerfeld went with the interesting idea of showing what teens growing up in a post-zombocaylpse world would do to be cool and distance themselves from the lame adults in their lives (hint: zombie virus is the drug of choice).

All these good points aside, I cannot get behind a book called Zombies vs. Unicorns that does not actually have zombies-fighting-unicorns action. I think it would look something like this:

—
I knew this was a bad idea the minute Francois was run through. As I watched that sharp, shimmering horn slide through his chest, I realized we probably should have never left the mall. Sure, I was sick of that fake muzak we couldn’t figure out how to turn off, and another gang of bikers was due to break in any day, but at least we were safe. I mean, besides the hordes of undead outside, clawing at the windows and moaning for our flesh, but that’s a given anywhere these days. The unicorns, though, they never try to get indoors. Not when there’s so much fresh meat outside.

Well, relatively fresh. Unicorns, for all their sparkly mystical powers, are not known for their discriminating tastes. Flesh-hungry zombie or scared-shitless human; they don’t really care which, it’s what’s for dinner. In fact, there’s been talk that they like humans even more because they usually have to chase us down first, and you know how they love showing off their billowy, glistening mane, bonus points if it catches the light of the full moon. Although that may have been just talk.

Still, after the unicorn that had gored Francois was busy licking up his blood, I climbed a tree. Unicorns can’t climb trees, right? I was less sure of myself when a few more showed up. Could unicorns fly? I knew they weren’t technically magic, having been created by our crack team of scientists to save humanity from the zombie horde, but, since THAT hadn’t turned out according to plan, I wondered what else was wrong. I tried to stay still, but they could probably smell me.

Luckily, at that moment, a faint moan wafted towards us on the breeze. The unicorns all perked up their ears, noses wet with Francois’ blood. Yes! I thought. Zombies! Maybe they’d followed us from the mall, or maybe they’d just caught my scent, or the scent of Francois’ unrecognizable corpse. Either way, maybe it would prove enough of a distraction to the unicorns that I could get away. Zombies were easy prey–but nothing about me has ever been easy.
—

Whenever I write example story-excerpts I like to give everyone French names because I think it makes everything sound more like a bad historical romance novel. The main character is called Antoinette.

Noted expert Rob McAuliffe actually included a zombies/unicorns link in the brilliant final he wrote for WIESS 101: Zombies in Fiction and Film, which is still on my desktop because reading it makes me happy. Since it includes such biting social commentary (read: is about real people at Wiess) I probably should not reproduce it in full (since Charles Lena would get pissed that his careful preparations do not, in fact, render him MVP). Here is the relevant excerpt from the end, however, when Rob and I are the only ones left alive from our class:

I begin to again crumple into a ball on the floor and prepare to die. Patricia tells me to get up, because she has one last plan. It, however, was going to require a great sacrifice, our soft hair. She explains that zombies could not possibly withstand our soft hair, and once we touch them with it they will turn into unicorns. We run back to Wiess shaking our hair at zombies along the way, filling the campus with bright sparkly pink unicorns. When we get back we cut off our hair and give it to the rest of the survivors. We are able to run around campus turning all of the zombies to unicorns. Unfortunately, unicorns it turns out also have a taste for human brains, and we are all eaten. (McAuliffe, R. 2007)

In conclusion, Rob and I totally could have written this book.

So. I got to the SILS library a little early and sat down at a table. Everyone around me was working on laptops and looking super serious. I felt slightly self conscious about sitting near them doing something silly like a crossword, so I spread the paper out and looked like I was about to analyze it for some kind of assignment. THANKFULLY my anxiety led me to actually look at the articles on the second page instead of just flipping right to the crossword in the back. So I saw this article with the headline “Zombie Attack Advice Comes to UNC”.

Naturally this led me to first think “WHAT? Am I doing a talk?” and then, since that was ridiculous, “WAIT IS MAX BROOKS DOING A TALK???” Because, honestly, who else is enough of a zombie expert to be trusted by such a large, public university like UNC? Rice may have been able to get by with just Charles Lena and me, but UNC has the money to pay for the best. If you don’t already know (for some reason, like you haven’t taken an amazing Student Taught Course about it), Max Brooks, son of Mel Brooks, wrote:

My copy is full of highlighting and underlines... AND IS NOW SIGNED

But his fame didn’t really skyrocket until he published the (more entertaining, though less informative):

Which I would recommend to anyone, since it's an amazing story

The audio book of the above is also pretty awesome, although they cut out my favorite part, the whole stolen Chinese submarine thing. World War Z is probably one of my favorite books, not just for the zombocalypse information, but for the character studies and writing style. I used both of these as texts for WIESS 101: Zombies in Fiction and Film. Which, despite some course evaluations, was totally bitchin.

I impatiently sat through my conversation with the visiting Korean scholar, and then ran out of Manning towards the Student Union, where I had never been before. I was surprised that there wasn’t a big sign or a giant crowd at the box office, and that there were still plenty of free tickets left. Do people not REALIZE how awesome this was? I grabbed two and guarded them with my life for the rest of the day.

The lecture ended up being held in the Student Union Auditorium, which was about the size of a small movie theater, and just as drab. I would say there were about 50 people there, which is shocking considering the size of UNC and the fact that it was MAX BROOKS. The lecture was entirely about effective zombie preparedness and debunking myths perpetuated by “the mainstream zombie media”. He also mentioned how we have to overcome our cultural biases towards some groups of people who may have co-opted good ideas we’ll need to survive. Namely, our natural-born hatred of hippies. Yeah, they don’t use soap and water, but that doesn’t mean they’re stupid, and we’ll need bicycles and working together to survive the zombocalypse. He also revealed that what we call “Z Day” in the US, Canada calls “The Great Pay Back”, and that they are preparing, on that day, to raise the Maple Leaf Curtain and guard their border with sharpened hockey sticks from helplessly fleeing Americans. I never trusted them. When someone asked if he’d seen the movie Zombieland, he replied, “Oh, no, but I’ve read the book; IT’S CALLED THE ZOMBIE SURVIVAL GUIDE”. There’s a (possibly better) summary of this talk in today’s Daily Tar Heel.

Then afterwards he signed books (and one person’s crow bar)! I told him I’d used his book as a text in a class I taught, and he thanked me for saving lives! You’re welcome, Rob and Roque. Sorry, Rachel, but Charles Lena is going to shoot you on like Day 1 because you’re a “straggler” and a liability to his zombie fighting team. And I can’t do anything about that.

So basically thanks to visiting Korean scholar wanting to meet too early for me, it was the BEST DAY EVER.

Made up Positions I’ve Given Myself
Wiess Resident Expert in Speculative Zoology
Wiess Breakfast Rep
Wiess Mr. Potato Head Rep
Co-comics Rep
Resident Witch Doctor
Wiess Librarian
Interior Decorator to the Presidential Suite (after we wallpapered Hiren’s room with water colors, mostly of him being eaten by monsters)
Hairologist
Apprentice Mad Scientist
Wiess Zombie Attack Consultant
Awkward Breakfast Conversation Rep (I still am this)
Wiess Astrologer
Chief Phallic Symbol Recognizer
Wiess Soothsayer
Official BFF to James K. Polk
Noted April Fool’s Day Victim
Noted “the crazy” of the sophomore class by Doward
Wiess Pieologist
Inventor of the Snake Warmer
Wiess Egg Salad Rep
Official BFF to Stephen Hawking

I did so much for Wiess. No wonder I got that award.

Things I’ve Done Instead of Going to Class (first semester)
Homework for that class
Homework for another class
Sleep
Crossword puzzles
Watch movies
Talk to Michael Curtis
Eat lunch
Stare at people from 2nd Floor Fondren
Read
Buy interesting hats
Watch the rain
Have a dance party
Listen to Rocky Horror Picture Show and sing loudly
Leave anonymous love notes for Steven Wiggins
Look up lame pick up lines online
Have consumption
Flirt outrageously

I assume this was first semester sophomore year, since first semester freshman Patricia was MAD conscientious. Also, Steven Wiggins was IN my class, so it would’ve been hard to leave secret love notes. These notes, by the way, would always say things like “If I said you had a corpus bellus would you hold it against me?” He would usually just correct my Latin.

Prof. Derrick Quotes List
“I think it’s nice that a woman with a hump can be erotically successful in our appearance driven society”–about the song “My Humps” by Fergie
“There are magic stones that keep you from perspiring for six years”
“There are little communities of creatures living a happy life inside us–Are they our friends?”
“If gender didn’t exist we would all be orcs”
“Let’s just talk about men. Anyone got any secret beer here?”
“Whenever there’s a discussion of voles, I’m there.”
“Men are a lot like voles; blind, burrowing rodents.”
“If you really want to be completely and perfectly free, you’ve got to kill everybody”
“Maybe we can have voles transplanted into us”
“I’m going to devote myself to using the word Cheetalicious some time today”
“Humanities are a cover. We make the University seem like it’s interested in pure knowledge because we’re useless”
“Build model guillotines and use them on your friends”
“It’s unfortunate that Hamlet sounds so much like omelet. Discuss”
“Mary Tyler Moore plays herself. That is, she’s a bitch.”
“Can you love a cow enough? Not within the limits of the law”
“My goal in life is to lose so many [pairs of glasses] that there’ll be a pair wherever I go”
“My children have actually been lost in shopping malls because we’re criminally negligent”
“Job goes to God and says, ‘What the fuck is going on?’”
“I also kind of had day dreams that I was a deer”
“I can’t talk about Lacon and the phallus because you would just make fun of me if I did”
(holds up pen) “All women writers are hermaphrodite monsters because what does this look like?”
“If you have a hog and choose to wash it, try to do so in an ecologically sound manner.”

Types of Music According to Josh
Emo music
Circus music

Reasons why I owe Josh Smoothies
Throwing a pen at his eye
Mocking dinosaur ancestors
Throwing a peanut at his eye
Taping photoshopped velociprator breasts to his window

Reasons why Josh owes me a smoothie
“How does it feel, Patricia?”
Claiming I’m not really a librarian

There are more, but they are all but impossible to read. I will maybe bury this notebook in my yard to confound future civilizations.

Probably the most surprising part of the weekend came on Saturday when I was expecting to collect my pieroyalties, the amount of which increases in increments of one pie yearly. I was promised three, but since both Anna (director) and Jacob (producer) assumed responsibility for this, I ended up with six. Jacob gave his long suffering Jacob sigh, said they would tip me one more, and keep two for the cast party. I assumed this was just his way of covering up a failed attempt at winning my affections. Because nothing says “Let’s make out after this play” like extra pie. It’s maybe a universal signal.

Anna also felt the need to tip me, specifically for this part of the play:

BLACK HOLE: Slow down, young whippersnapper! Don’t you come any closer!

VOYAGER PROBE: But I’m Voyager Space Probe One! My mission is to send data back to Earth!

BLACK HOLE: In my day we didn’t have any of this fancy robotic space trash! Who raised you? Didn’t they tell you not to go near a black hole?

VOYAGER PROBE: My mission is to send data back to Earth!

BLACK HOLE: I’m a black hole! Don’t come any closer or you’ll be sucked in and squished to the size of spaghetti!

VOYAGER PROBE: My mission is to send data back to Earth!

BLACK HOLE: Of course, from the outside it’ll just look like you’ve frozen on the edge of me FOREVER.

VOYAGER PROBE: My mission is to send back data to Earth!

BLACK HOLE: But go ahead, what the hell, give it a try. It’s just astrophysics. I’m sure you know best.

VOYAGER PROBE: My mission is to send back data to Earth! My mission is to send back data to Eeeeeeeaaaaaaaarrrrttthhhhh! (freezes comically next to BLACK HOLE)

BLACK HOLE: Stupid disco technology

For something I wrote as an afterthought at 2am, this became wildly popular. The Thresher calls Christina Villareal who played it “the cutest satellite ever to leave planet earth” (take THAT, Mars Rovers) and she made guest appearances in all the other plays. Searching for data, you know. FOR SCIENCE.

For this, admittedly genius, bit of writing Anna decided to up my payment with one trashy novel, but I didn’t realize how trashy we were talking. It’s Anne Bishop’s The Black Jewels Trilogy and the back cover describes it as “a ruthless game of politics and intrigue, magic and betrayal, where the weapons are hate and love–and the prize could be terrible beyond imagining…” I cannot wait to read it so that you don’t have to. Although it is 1204 pages so it may be awhile.

Other notable events: Erin Waller getting “Total Eclipse of the Heart” stuck in my head for three days. I thought we were past that, but it still gave me the uncontrollable urge to find TJ and tape leaves to his fingers. Also, despite limitations from the script, the freshmen still found a way to uphold a THE 434 tradition and make fun of Dr. Dodds. Naturally that is how I meant for the play to be interpreted. I think this really gives it away:

BLACK HOLE: Oh, I know what you mean. I was a big star once too. Listen to me, kid, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Sure, you get all the hottest planetoids and all the sunspots you want. The free beer ain’t bad neither. Oh, those were the days… but I’d give it all up if I could just have the true friendship of my solar system back.

THE SUN: Um, yeah. I think I’ll take the babes and the free beer if it’s all the same to—

BLACK HOLE: Plus, after a few billion years, you explode and turn into a rotating gravitational field from which NOTHING not even LIGHT can escape, sucking up all matter around you and squeezing it into NOTHINGNESS.

THE SUN: (jumps back) AHHHHH! Nothing? Really?

BLACK HOLE: NOTHING! NOTHING AT ALL! Nothing except bitterness, which moves faster than the speed of light.

God, it’s JUST LIKE talking to him at lunch, the illusion is scary.

A few people made comments about the themes of a scientific nature, but I patiently explained that I’m an SE now (library science, guys), so it’s totally allowed.

This return involved two plane rides and a sandwich in Baltimore, whose airport is actually just a mall where some planes hang out. On the latter plane, Steven and I decided that the BEST POSSIBLE use of our time was to write each other notes while listening to our respective iPods. Naturally this quickly devolved into joint poetry:

I wrote Steven’s in italics because he has the prettier handwriting. I would try to recreate mine, but there’s no html for “six year old holding a pen in her fist”.

Where are my keys, I lost my phone
Alone, along it falls…
I window shop with you in my mind
A flannel shirt at the five and dime
I can’t get no satisfaction
Underthings. Tumbling.
I thought I was smarter as I flew into the sun
Lord Belford’s shot came rumbling, our rebel forces reeled
Have you seen your mother, baby, standing in the shadows?
Have you ever loved someone so much you thought your little heart would break in two?
I didn’t think so.
Give me a word, give me a sign. Show me how to look, tell me what will I find…
Godzilla got pissed and began to attack but he didn’t expect to be rocked by Shaq
Collecting each thing, reflecting his world
Breaking my back just to know your name
I know that I can find the fire in your eyes
Where hydrogen is built into helium at a temperature of millions of degrees
And made of glass, dreams from the past wait for this day
It all would have been different if he’d seen her in daylight
When you’re out there on your own, where your memories can find you
I’m interested in things. I’m not a real doctor
I got to drowning in the blues
It’s astounding; time is fleeting
Hooray for new math!
It’s 12pm so he starts with a thriller
And every kid on the whole damn street was gonna make it big on every beat
Into my brain goes a bang bang bang till my feet do the same
And I don’t wanna say I told you so, but I told you so
A girl in every port and gadgets up my sleeve
The world is not enough for the both of us it seems
It’s a brand new day and the sun is high
Cause your friends don’t dance and if they don’t dance then their no friends of mine
Oh I drank some champagne from your shoe, la la la
I’d let you watch, I would invite you, but the queens we use would not excite you
In these days of cool reflection, you come to me and every thing seems alright
When they cut me open I guess I changed my mind
Learning to match the beat of the old world man
Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon?
I still hear the snares in the square, colors ablaze in the evening
Isn’t it enough to know I ruined a pony making a gift for you?
You don’t fool me, those restless eyes, that sexy smile
It’s times like these I wonder what would Jimmy Buffet do?
Show me how to lie, you’re getting better all the time
The few who grew up tall and proud in the shadow of the mushroom cloud
No dark sarcasm in the classroom
Let’s keep the freaking out to a minimum.

Then we played the game of guessing what song each line was from. Exciting times!

Almost as exciting as seeing my play tonight!! Anna tells me that it’s getting Tony buzz already. But even if things don’t turn out, at least I will have my massive amounts of pie to console me. Which reminds me that I need to put a fork in my purse.

1. Giants

It’s come to my attention that North Carolina seems to be home to a family of giants as absent-minded as they are bone-crunching. They’re so busy eating innocent bystanders that they left their chests of drawers just lying around:

Somewhere there's a giant with cold feet consoling himself by eating a busload full of school children

These drawers are about 40 feet high, and are apparently for rent. They claim to be the World’s Largest Chest of Drawers, but on the drive over near the interstate, we found further damning evidence:

I measured, and that's about ten James Foxes taller than the so-called world's largest chest of drawers

Yeah, I thought I’d bring James Fox along, both for his use as a handy giant furniture height gauge and for his ability to distract the giants while I run away. Possibly by being eaten. Fortunately, it didn’t come to that, but be ye warned.

2. Merging

Constant, constant merging

You probably think I’m exaggerating, but you have no idea how ridiculous it is. Every highway has two-lane on-ramps, both of which end, and lanes on all roads mysteriously disappear without warning despite the fact that their existence seemed superfluous to begin with. This mania for merging could be indicative of poor road planning, but I like to think it goes deeper into the very psyche of the state. By forcing me to merge constantly, they create a constant anxiety about whether or not the lane I’m currently in will disappear, destabilizing my very outlook on life! Clearly it’s all a plot from the ice cream industry, hoping people will self-medicate their merging-induced identity crisis with a healthy dose of double chocolate fudge. For shame, Jerry of Ben and Jerry’s! For shame. (I expected this of Ben, but not of you.) My alternate theory has to do with a highway planner besotted with the girl in charge of painting merge arrows on the highway. I won’t tell you the rest, but in the end he’s killed in a tragic merging accident. Of course.

3. Frequent Power Outages

Artist's Conception

I guess it has something to do with the number of trees around and the wind, but we’ve already had TWO power outages in which I was forced to A) eat peanut butter for more than one meal in a row, B) shower in the darkness and endanger my life with possible head trauma/drowning/being attacked by that creepy girl from The Ring, and, most seriously, C) ALMOST DID NOT GET TO UPDATE MY BLOG. Clearly this is the most serious threat of all! Once again someone is trying to silence the truth! Which is shocking because I thought I was out of Brian Reinhart’s insidious weather-controlling range. Looks like I was wrong. So we need to settle this the only way I know how: DANCE FIGHT. WIESS COMMONS. PARENT’S WEEKEND. Be there, Reinhart, or I will Hoedown Throwdown unopposed once again.

See, I have business there anyway. These crazy kids are putting on this play I wrote. Fools!

Confession: I recently bought Twilight.
I know, I know, I feel awful about it. Especially since I’ve already managed to read the first three books through extreme patience and library-fu. Buying a Twilight book is shameful. Buying a Twilight book you’ve already read is definitely more shameful. To be fair, it is on my reading list for my Young Adult Literature Class next semester, and I did buy it at a used book store for $3. I don’t think any of that went to Stephanie Meyer, so I still feel pretty okay about the practical facts, but my reputation may never recover. I knew this would be necessary since the tens or hundreds of people on the waiting list for it back at my library at home would make it impossible to guarantee my having it a specific week for class, but, oddly, this morning when I went online to request the fourth book, Breaking Dawn, to write a wildly popular review of it, I found that I was number FOUR on the list. And there are EIGHT copies. I’ll probably have it tomorrow. I’m shocked by Twilight’s apparent lack of popularity here, until I realized that a typo in the description of the book calls the vapid main character “Ellen Swan” instead of “Bella Swan”, thus confusing legions of preteen girls. Suckers.

In Penance for this: I vow to be as sarcastic and withering as possible to the inevitable one or two people in our class discussion who will gush endlessly about how much they love Twilight.

Confession: I am incurring library fines AS WE SPEAK
As a librarian, this is incredibly shameful. It gets worse: the source of these fines is none other than the book-on-CD version of I’d Tell You I Love You But Then I’d Have to Kill You. To be fair, I didn’t steal it so that it could be mine forever, but simply forgot to give it to Mom Ladd before her return to Florida and have since been unable to find it to mail it back myself. Trixie probably hid it. Which means that, years from now, someone will pull it from some secret compartment in the back seat, stare at it with raised eyebrows, and then say “Patricia R. Ladd, why do you own this?” in a disgusted tone.

In penance for this: I vow to NOT punch them in the face.

Confession: I stole a full set of cutlery from the Servery
Which I am using EVEN NOW, hundreds of miles away. Just like my embarrassing library fines, I didn’t do this on purpose either. I just sort of found various spoons and forks and knives in various purses and book bags while attempting to pack. On the plus side, it can be very useful to have a fork in your purse, in case someone offers you free but messy food while out and about. On the minus side, they tend to look at you a little funny, and I may be the sole reason why the Servery is losing money.

In Penance for this: I vow to only eat with said cutlery things worthy of the Servery. Meaning anything I cook while really tired or am having one of those haphazard “well, I’m sure applesauce is a fine substitution for flour” kind of days.

There. Now my conscience is clear.

It also makes a stylish cape

Suck it, Betsy Ross. If I were sewing the flag of our country, it would be eight times as colorful, with 30% more inside jokes. Also, please note that you should now add “quilting prowess” to my list of skills/reasons to fear me.

Subject: Dispatch from the Front

Dispatch from the Front 2/10/09

Mr. President:
It is cold and foggy STOP Luckily some of us have someone to keep us warm
coughDhruvcoughFiggy STOP West Side Story has angered the Commons studiers beyond reason
STOP Revolution is in the air STOP Danger of a coup STOP Do not trust Erin Waller STOP
Damn seniors always in the OC lounge STOP Suspect them of source of rancid meat smell
STOP Recyclemania Situation Poor: Hanging up bottles in trees and pretending its art STOP
Servery graspin STOP Food rations tightening STOP Under FDR (Jack Hardcastle) this never
would have happened STOP I’m not trying to blame you but I’m just saying STOP
End of transmission

Respectfully compiled by
P. Ladd
Secretary of State

Unfortunately, Bo’s reply was just a reminder to tell everyone that cabinet would be in the WAR room that week. He didn’t really get into the spirit of things.

76. My Bloody Valentine 3D (we became briefly obsessed with the idea of seeing a Valentine’s-themed pick axe massacre movie in 3D in January, but not enough to actually pay money)
77. Walk Creepily
78. Abuse List Serv
79. Tacky Airbrush T-shirts
80. Taaka off
81. Lose newsletter job/List Serv Power
82. Play real pocket tanks
83. BINGO!!!!
84. Write new Twilight
85. Karoke
86. See a psychic
87. Steal Colleen Lamos’ Dog
88. Go see Molly and the Ringwalds
89. Go to brunch
90. Tell Charles Lena our RTV5 show ideas
91. Human Midnight Party (we were also intent on somehow playing Real Life versions of many board games for awhile, including Midnight Party, Clue, Monopoly, and Minesweeper)
92. Perform Brain Surgery on the Uglies
93. Get Prof. Gorrey to throw his iPhone
94. Have our own Wiess Day
95. Drunk Bus—Rice Shuttle!
96. Armadillo Spaghetti Pants
97. Drink on the Inner Loop—French style
98. Go to Gulf Breeze
99. Go to Swirl
100. Hannah Montana Movie! (Rob and I had a brief argument about whether this was momentous enough to be #100 on the list; I admit it: I was totally wrong)