okay, yeah. i know i said i was going to update this thing more often but honestly that's your own damn fault if you believed me. so, suck it. anyhoo, it comes to mind that i never fully shared my thoughts with all two or three of you about the final brain-hemorrhaging brick-of-a-book in the twilight series, because what fun is slogging through the first three if i'm not going to explode with written word-induced agony in the finale? and so i will. so there. now i present, chock-full-o-spoilers but at this point i really hope you don't have any vested interest in the plot:
b reviews 'breaking dawn,' wherein she wishes said dawn would break stephenie meyer's legs or something to make her just shut up shut up shut UP
alright stephenie meyer, sack up. look at me. LOOK AT ME. look and listen, you cerebellum-crushing trollop, for i have had it up to HERE with you, and i'm 5'10" so that's a lot of here to have. you and me? we are so over. sure, i came into this relationship knowing you've been around and i didn't matter at all in the grand scheme of your literary hobaggin'. i mean if the library bookshelves were a town, you would totally be its bicycle. by which i mean slut. by which i mean every single tweenage to thirty-something woman in as many countries as is allowable has gobbled your goods and demanded more and you've primped and preened on your throne, typos, flimsy characters and plot holes be damned. what i'm trying to say is you are a hoor and you totally don't care about my opinion because you have made eleventy billion dollars off your sparkly franchise, but i've got news for you, lady: i am not enthralled. that's right. i'm leaving. nevermind the fact that you hoodwinked me and i gave you the best weeks of my life slaving through these books for you, it shall be NO MORE.
seriously, woman. have you no shame? no honor? no thesaurus? the only way i could stand to read these things was to pirate the audiobook format and listen to them at work so that i was at least getting *paid* to have my brain systematically siphoned out of my head, bit by squishy bit. i gagged through twilight. i bitched through new moon. i even facepalmed through eclipse. and then came the finale of breaking dawn, wherein i hit the brick wall like a crash test dummy at a car plant that's no longer in service because this economy sucks so really, stop hoarding your shiny vampire money and give something to charity or whatever because you're a twit and i hate your books and there are people who need houses and things like that.
ANYWAY, i just...words have failed me. i think the only person who can save me is the dramallama herself. here we go bella, take it away.
zomg hi guys it's bella. don't pull a jake and freak on me here, i'm just surrounding my story in squiggly sideways words to act as a ~shield~ to protect myself from outside sources who just don't understand. i'll ttly explain later k? k.
so anyway, my luv edward is gonna marry me, right? and to protect me before he does, he got me this super expensive sports car that is really boss but i hate it because it's amazing and a symbol of his protection over me and i hate amazing things except for edward's face because it's so amazing and i haven't mentioned its amazing contours and cheekbones and sparkles in awhile, but it's totally awesome. but this car is stupid and i hate it, and my wedding dress is beautiful and alice totally barbie-dolls me and my mom and dad are totally down with me getting married which is weird, considering they were totally against me doing stupid things a few books ago but whatevs. so i get married and i'm gorgeous and i *hate* it and eddie has to drag me to dance because ugh, who wants to look happy and have a good time on the happiest day of her life, am i right? then jake shows back up from running around canada as a wolf after i told him i was marrying the vampire and he goes all dramarama at my fricking wedding and like tries to kill my husband, or something. idk. whatev. so eddie and i are finally hubby wifey and we jetset off to this island of perfection and i hate it because it's so perfect and there's french lingerie in my luggage and i'm going to KILL ALICE for packing this stuff because the *last* thing i need on my honeymoon in tropical paradise with my hot as holy fudge boyfriend is SEXUAL NEGLIGES. jeez. i am totally shielding you from this part because our secks life is not for your eyes, mortals. gtfo.
sooooo then i totally conceive a vampire child and i'm not sure but i think the convo kinda went, 'hey edward, remember how i've never wanted kids ever at all in the 1500 pages of these books and gave up the idea of having them to be with you?' and he's all 'yeah what of it' and i'm all 'well i think i'm pregnant with one' and he's all 'are you shitting me' and i'm all 'did you just use a curse word?' and he goes 'sorry you just said you're pregnant with a demonseed' and i'm like 'well glory be it's not MY fault you didn't use a condom' and he's all 'yeah vampires aren't allergic to sunlight or garlic but holy frig we hate latex, it's awful' and i had to snap my fingers a bit and be like, 'FOCUS, GUY, this is about a kid and not your p33n,' so he's all 'shit, i guess i'd better call my dad so we can get that thing extracted from you because a vampire baby is the culmination of all evil, like, way to go with your human uterus that can apparently foster my devilsperm' and i'm all 'but i love my baby thing' and he's like 'are you for sure' and i'm like 'totally' and he goes 'oh jesus christ okay fine the honeymoon's over let's go home' and so we do. ~*~*~*~shieldshieldshieldshield~*~*~*~
uh, okay. hi. jacob black here. a third of this story is mine, so, i'll just go over the basics: i love bella and i run around a lot breaking my pants when i turn into a wolf because i am angsty. i'm totally ready to kill the cullen family for turning bella into a vampire and i want to wage war on them when my pack doesn't want to and then they say they're going to kill her and her demonbaby thing and i'm all woah now hold up ain't nobody killing my woman and werewolves are SO ANNOYING when they remind you that she's not your woman so i'm like screw you guys, i'm going home. and due to some mumbo jumbo blibbety blobbity bloop i can create my own pack because i'm a werewolf ninja zenmaster, and i decide to warn the cullens and edward says the baby is going to kill bella and could i please have sex with her to give her wolf cub babies so she doesn't die. neither of us seem to glom onto the fact that the woman we love is a complete and total batshit moron. i ask why they don't just feed the baby blood, because duh, and somehow, this whole clan of vampires INCLUDING A DOCTOR missed that point. so bella, who way back when freaked out at the mere smell of blood in biology, starts drinking gallons of blood like kool-aid and all is well and good and then when we're unsupervised she knocks over a cup because her klutziness is what moves the plot forward nine times out of ten, and she kicks the baby into labor or something and starts dying and then edward and i have to play like it's a game of operation which sucks because i hated that game and always lost the pieces. yadda yadda baby breaks her ribs and spine, edward tears into her stomach with his teeth, veins popping everywhere, eyes glazing over, terrorizing vampire child that bites its mothers neck and gets named motherfuck RENESEMEE, because it's just stupid enough to fit, blah blah blah, edward bites her, i must kill the child that has killed the love of my life and it has bella's eyes and oh my god i'm in love with it and i've imprinted on nessie the monsterbaby and bella's probably gonna kill me but i don't care because she's busy at the moment so whatever.
~*~*~shieldshieldshieldshield~*~*~
hi guys it's bella again. i thought i'd check in while i'm lying on this table in the most agonizing pain EVER, EVER EVER EVER EVER but remind me not to move or make a sound because it might upset edward who has agreed to damn me to heck or make me pretty and an eternal vampire, or whatever it is. anyway, he's all having existential crises over turning me or whatever but hello, um, OW this hurts. burn burn burn, pain pain pain, burn and pain and burn and pain and burn and pain for like 50 pages or something and then time slowed and the world revealed itself to me and i opened my eyes and the lights in which my retinas bathed were the sharpest of crystalline definition and my edward was more beautiful than any mortal could recognize, and i did a backflip summersault triple saucow off the table and into some stiletto heals. all of this happened in a fraction of a piece of a second and the world i lived in was full of wonder at my beauty, at my marvel of self-control, and of my blue silk gown in which i went hunting because my rare vampiric gift is that of self-restraint and it turns out i don't have to sacrifice anything as a vampire. i have the wonderful sex with the love of my eternal life and i love my family and i spend time with my father who never questions my strange transformation, my child and my best friend who loves her and will be my son in law but i am angry about that for one eighty-fourth of a nano second because character challenges and obstacles are not becoming to newborn vampires who are supposed to be insatiable monsters craving naught but blood and carniage. all of this happened, mind you, without a single stumble or faceplant. there was some hullabaloo over the vulturi coming to destroy my dear nessie, but my family rounded up some vampires from all corners of the globe to testify that my daughter is not the antichrist, i learned how to activate my mental shield to protect all of us from their vulturi powers, and they went away and nothing happened and we all lived happily ever after, because nothing spells happiness like being a mother to a child named after a sea monster for eternity. ~*~*~shield~*~*~
so in essence, piss off, stephenie meyer. you have toyed with my heart for the last time. BE GONE WITH YE. and in case you were wondering, you only clamped that extra star out of me because a third of the book was from jacob's point of view but that's no compliment because seriously, what the fuck. the end.
...the end.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
eclipse, or: why anneurisms happen
ahoy there, bitches. i've got a few minutes before the muscle relaxers kick in, so how about i litter your screen with drivel? why not. in this edition: music, exploding chocolate eggs, another twilight review of hatred, and thoughts about how bad a monday can *actually* get before you contemplate breaking out the vodka at your desk at work. it's been that kind of week, guys. seriously. alright. first up:
from the good folks at goodreads.com, i've copy/pasted/whatevered my review of the third book in the twilight saga (i lol at the word 'saga', by the way. it's so overly dramatic for no reason. kind of like these needless books) so here we go:
eclipse
by stephenie meyer
oh, eclipse. i hereby don thee with a heaping dollop of 'mehhhhhh' garnished with 'uh, srsly?' while saying this book was not as heinous as the last two in its quartet of vampiric high school dramz is basically tantamount to saying i enjoyed getting my toenails pulled out slightly more than i enjoyed cleaving my arms off with a saw blade, i will allow that there was somewhat less edward admiration and/or jacob waffle in this portion. but that's not saying much. why? because there was still a shitton of both and added to the froth was a new component: bella's GUILT over things that were SO NOT HER FAULT OMG ARE YOU KIDDING ME WHY. this is interesting, because honestly, though this is a first person narrative, three books in we barely know beautiful ugly duckling i mean bella swan. let us visit her hypothetical diary entries that she may have had time to hash out between cooking dinner for her ungrateful absentee father and waiting by the windows for her her stalktastic vampire boyfriend and/or even stalktastickier werewolf best friend, shall we? oh, let's. and then let's shoot ourselves up with dr cullen's morphine to make us forget we ever did.
'dear diary which might be schoolbook margins bc i don't do anything at home except cook and clean and do nothing at school except stare at edward's perfect pretty so in the end who knows where i'm writing this,
so, omg i am bella swan i will vaguely mention there have been some total murders in seattle but more importantly i am STILL HUMAN WTF. i am counting down the days to graduation bc then i get turned into a vampire by my eddiepoo but apparently i am not counting hard enough bc when eddiekins and his sis alice point out that i graduate in mere weeks i'm all ARE YOU KIDDING ME OH MY LAWDS and while i'm here at school, has anybody seen a teacher because apparently i'm caught in a love triangle but i don't know what a triangle is bc i get no edjumacation during this book and does anybody know what angles add up to 180 so i can get out of this thing. srsly, i'm all hanging with the jacob and the werewolves learning about their life stories like it's the olympics of tall tales or something, and then alice is holding me hostage bc i wanted to visit the werewolves who are all bitchy towards the vampires and then edward is all 'well maybe you can visit after all' and i'm all 'omg you couldn't have told me that AFTER you followed me on the road like a stalker' and he doesn't even have to apologize bc he is too beautiful and sparkly for that human nonsense, and anyway i learn from the werewolves that i totally love jake bc even though he's a dramarama he keeps kissraping me and apparently when you get frenched enough you figure out you love somebody, which is srsly not fair bc jacob said he'd kill himself if i didn't kiss him and edward laughed about it just like when my dad laughed when i broke my hand punching jacob after he kiss-raped me *before*, like, THANKS ALL THE MEN IN MY LIFE. also diary, did you know vampires can still get into heaven if they don't have sex before marriage? i learned that from my wonderful edward who knows everything. turns out it doesn't matter that he's killed people and bought my way into dartmouth or whatever, if he touches me in my pajingo before we're all hubby-wifey, he'll go to HECK. so that's bad.
ANYWAY, at some point during 600 pages i was forced to listen to edward's siblings and how they wish they were human bc they totes got turned vampy against their beautiful debutante/soldier-type wills, but i'm all 'whatevs, I WANT TO BE IMMORTAL with a skin temperature that would keep caviar fresh thx' and even though ed's bro emmet was totally in the army back in the day, he totally misses the fact that the murders happening in seattle is an army of vampires led by my ARCH NEMESIS VICTORIA who sent in a flunky to STEAL MY CLOTHES WHICH IS SO NOT COOL. so plot device i mean alice sees 200 pages into the future to plant us on some dumb mountain covered in snow to fight the newbie vampires and it's SO COLD at night in my stupid tent that it requires jacob 'the space heater' to get all naked with me in a sleeping bag WHILE EDWARD WATCHES, OMG I'M UNCOMFORTABLE WITH MY OWN DRAMA) and then everybody fucks up in battle bc victoria shows up all 'um, yeah, i sent my army of vampires as a diversion, DUH' which i guess we should have seen coming, ALICE. anyway, we and the werewolf brat pack kill the vampires anyway and the vultures from italy are all 'well you did our job for us' and dakota fanning who swears she's named jane looked particularly upset about it but that's what *happens* when you show up late. and then i had to go break jake's heart by telling him i'm marrying edward because he won't not talk about it ever and a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do to get some action, and so he turns into a wolf and scampers away forevar. oh and i graduated high school somewhere in there. now when do i get to have sex and become immortal darnit? man, life is hard.
xoxoxoow i just papercut myself,
bella cullen, bitchez'
...and just like before, you know i'm reading the next one. i hear there's some demonic child-baring action so at least we know edward can get it up.
actually, i'm tired. all the shit i said i'd write about other than this book review? i lied to you. yup. straight-up played you. i'm not writing about it now. my bed is looking too fine to resist, and i can't see you so i'm not sure if you're finer. so there.
from the good folks at goodreads.com, i've copy/pasted/whatevered my review of the third book in the twilight saga (i lol at the word 'saga', by the way. it's so overly dramatic for no reason. kind of like these needless books) so here we go:
eclipse
by stephenie meyer
oh, eclipse. i hereby don thee with a heaping dollop of 'mehhhhhh' garnished with 'uh, srsly?' while saying this book was not as heinous as the last two in its quartet of vampiric high school dramz is basically tantamount to saying i enjoyed getting my toenails pulled out slightly more than i enjoyed cleaving my arms off with a saw blade, i will allow that there was somewhat less edward admiration and/or jacob waffle in this portion. but that's not saying much. why? because there was still a shitton of both and added to the froth was a new component: bella's GUILT over things that were SO NOT HER FAULT OMG ARE YOU KIDDING ME WHY. this is interesting, because honestly, though this is a first person narrative, three books in we barely know beautiful ugly duckling i mean bella swan. let us visit her hypothetical diary entries that she may have had time to hash out between cooking dinner for her ungrateful absentee father and waiting by the windows for her her stalktastic vampire boyfriend and/or even stalktastickier werewolf best friend, shall we? oh, let's. and then let's shoot ourselves up with dr cullen's morphine to make us forget we ever did.
'dear diary which might be schoolbook margins bc i don't do anything at home except cook and clean and do nothing at school except stare at edward's perfect pretty so in the end who knows where i'm writing this,
so, omg i am bella swan i will vaguely mention there have been some total murders in seattle but more importantly i am STILL HUMAN WTF. i am counting down the days to graduation bc then i get turned into a vampire by my eddiepoo but apparently i am not counting hard enough bc when eddiekins and his sis alice point out that i graduate in mere weeks i'm all ARE YOU KIDDING ME OH MY LAWDS and while i'm here at school, has anybody seen a teacher because apparently i'm caught in a love triangle but i don't know what a triangle is bc i get no edjumacation during this book and does anybody know what angles add up to 180 so i can get out of this thing. srsly, i'm all hanging with the jacob and the werewolves learning about their life stories like it's the olympics of tall tales or something, and then alice is holding me hostage bc i wanted to visit the werewolves who are all bitchy towards the vampires and then edward is all 'well maybe you can visit after all' and i'm all 'omg you couldn't have told me that AFTER you followed me on the road like a stalker' and he doesn't even have to apologize bc he is too beautiful and sparkly for that human nonsense, and anyway i learn from the werewolves that i totally love jake bc even though he's a dramarama he keeps kissraping me and apparently when you get frenched enough you figure out you love somebody, which is srsly not fair bc jacob said he'd kill himself if i didn't kiss him and edward laughed about it just like when my dad laughed when i broke my hand punching jacob after he kiss-raped me *before*, like, THANKS ALL THE MEN IN MY LIFE. also diary, did you know vampires can still get into heaven if they don't have sex before marriage? i learned that from my wonderful edward who knows everything. turns out it doesn't matter that he's killed people and bought my way into dartmouth or whatever, if he touches me in my pajingo before we're all hubby-wifey, he'll go to HECK. so that's bad.
ANYWAY, at some point during 600 pages i was forced to listen to edward's siblings and how they wish they were human bc they totes got turned vampy against their beautiful debutante/soldier-type wills, but i'm all 'whatevs, I WANT TO BE IMMORTAL with a skin temperature that would keep caviar fresh thx' and even though ed's bro emmet was totally in the army back in the day, he totally misses the fact that the murders happening in seattle is an army of vampires led by my ARCH NEMESIS VICTORIA who sent in a flunky to STEAL MY CLOTHES WHICH IS SO NOT COOL. so plot device i mean alice sees 200 pages into the future to plant us on some dumb mountain covered in snow to fight the newbie vampires and it's SO COLD at night in my stupid tent that it requires jacob 'the space heater' to get all naked with me in a sleeping bag WHILE EDWARD WATCHES, OMG I'M UNCOMFORTABLE WITH MY OWN DRAMA) and then everybody fucks up in battle bc victoria shows up all 'um, yeah, i sent my army of vampires as a diversion, DUH' which i guess we should have seen coming, ALICE. anyway, we and the werewolf brat pack kill the vampires anyway and the vultures from italy are all 'well you did our job for us' and dakota fanning who swears she's named jane looked particularly upset about it but that's what *happens* when you show up late. and then i had to go break jake's heart by telling him i'm marrying edward because he won't not talk about it ever and a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do to get some action, and so he turns into a wolf and scampers away forevar. oh and i graduated high school somewhere in there. now when do i get to have sex and become immortal darnit? man, life is hard.
xoxoxo
bella cullen, bitchez'
...and just like before, you know i'm reading the next one. i hear there's some demonic child-baring action so at least we know edward can get it up.
actually, i'm tired. all the shit i said i'd write about other than this book review? i lied to you. yup. straight-up played you. i'm not writing about it now. my bed is looking too fine to resist, and i can't see you so i'm not sure if you're finer. so there.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
ten things i- ah, fuck it. that's a boring number anyway.
so, i've been thinking (i promise not to abuse the power) and have decided that while lists of ten nonsensical things have been fun, turns out my hyperactive typing fingers and my ADD-fueld brain have got way more to write in this little niche of the interwebs than lists. there are music opinions, books i've read, conversations that have made me nearly pee with laughter, links to sites and videos that totally won even though there wasn't a contest at the time, thoughts about this that and the other thing, and various and sundry shite i don't put in my lj or my facebook notes. i also fully realize it's navel-gazing to the nth degree (possibly o, p, or the seldom heard of qth degree) to pollute these html pages with such drivel but seeing as stat counter says most of you land here because of random hamster and/or tornado pictures i used for posts years ago, i don't feel bad about alienating you. and thus, programming change:
this blog is going all-encompassing, people. oh that's right. prepare for random of the finest pedigree courtesy of the b. (did i just call myself 'the b'? wow. i may have to put myself on notice.) anyhoo, first up, because it made my boss and my coworker giggle, and that was awesome bc let's face it, my self-confidence is idolizing zero for wanting to *go* somewhere, and wow i'm using a lot of commas- anyway, my reviews for the first two books in the twilight series. long story short? i told my brain i was going to go onto the third book and it threatened to give me a stroke just out of spite.
from goodreads.com:
twilight
book one of the twilight series
rating: 1 of 5 stars
dreck. dreck, dreck, dreck. see how you're not learning much of anything when i repeat the same word over and over? take note, stephenie meyer- unlike blues clues on a weekly basis or crunches or whatever else actually benefits from repeated use, using the same stale phrases will not help an idea set in. if i ever have to hear again how beautiful and perfect edward cullen is, i will not fall in love with him, i will punch him in the stupid domineering condescending creepy stalkerish motherfuck sparkly face.
i could go on for awhile about how much i loathed this book from start to finish but for the sake of short attention spans and my wish to wash it from memory, i'll sum up:
*bella swan (please, what a mary sue name) has no personality. at all. nothing. she is flatter than a pre-training bra tween eating matzoh on the plains of kansas.
*edward cullen is a fucking creep. he is. he WATCHES HER SLEEP, for pete's sake. he tells her what to do and bella gives in every time. he dictates her entire life and is the most condescending prick i've had the misfortune of meeting in the pages of a book.
*the plot took 400 pages to happen, and even up to that point, i say this as a girl who loves both baseball and sparkly things- glittery vampires playing baseball is just downright embarassing. to wit, repeated declarations of 'i love you!' 'but i'm dangerous!' 'but i can't be without you, i'd rather die!' 'i cannot part from you either...wow you smell good' doth not a plot make. seriously. we're given NO reasons for why these two should love each other other than edward's stupid cold marble-like angelfaced beauty and the fact that bella apparently smells delicious. (which, um.) yeah. sorry, that's not the stuff great romances are made of.
*even as much as it infuriated me what with the utter devotion bella has to this creep who tells her exactly what to do (he THROWS HER OVER HIS SHOULDER AND CARRIES HER DOWNSTAIRS FOR BREAKFAST WHEN SHE SAYS SHE'S NOT HUNGRY, PEOPLE. HOW IS THAT AT ALL KOSHER? LOOK, IT'S GOT ME ALL YELLY.), this story also bored me. like woah.
okay so that veered into more than bullet points. sorry. but not sorry at the same time, because wow. that was awful. now all i'm left with is femmy hangover and rising paranoia that my alma mater is going to repossess my english degree for even giving into this sludge to begin with. and so for some reason i've started to read the second.
shut up.
View all my reviews.
new moon
twilight book #2
rating: 1 of 5 stars
so i went into the second book of the twilight series hoping i'd like it more than the first, and that swiftly failed. aside from a bit more exposition and some fleshing out (however slight and anemic) of jacob who is by the way SO MUCH BETTER THAN EDWARD OMG, i hated this story. i couldn't like it. um, no. not even a little bit. stephenie meyer, i demand those 600+ pages' worth of time back. are you KIDDING ME? i mean really? it took you that long to tell me what is essentially diddly shit? look, i can do it quicker:
i am bella swan! i don't want to turn 18 bc i am older than mai twu wuv edward who is 17 on paper but LIKE 100 YEARS OLD IN REALITY WTF. but ennyways, i ttly got a papercut at my vampy bday party and eddie srsly realizes his fam could eat me if i'm so klutzy again, so he leaves. I AM DEPRESSED. i am so depressed i flail about in the woods like a dumbass and then spend months in zombie mode bc what every good vampire story needs is ZOMBIES. then i decide to put myself in danger bc edward will save me, and then i hear edward's voice in my head and it gets me ttly hot. omg you have no idea guys, srsly. so i totally hang out with my old friend jacob black who is, like, have i mentioned a zillion feet taller and warm all the time? whatevs, i'm looking to be ~*reckless*~, so he fixes up motorcycles for us so i can crash around with adrenaline and klutziness bc i am hapless and want to DEFY PEOPLE bc there is an ACHING HOLE IN MY CHEST AND SOUL when edward is gone! i am nothing without my eddie poo. sigh. woe. and so i'm ttly like, hung up on jake after awhile bc he's like, kind of a replacement but NOT AS PERFECT AS MY EDDIEKINS who by the way has still vanished but keeps talking to me in my head cause i'm nutterbutter but totally fine with that. anyhoodles, then jake turns all werewolfy and i'm all wtf and he's all i know right and i'm all why you gotta be hatin on the vampires OMG remember the one from the last book that totally didn't get mentioned til now? yeah she's trying to kill me and jacob is all OMG I'LL SAVE YOU and then i go cliff diving in a hurricane because i'm dumb and somehow i wind up in italy bc edward thought i killed myself and then the super in charge principal vampire is all 'ummmm, yeah. you're immune to our powers, mary sue' and i'm all 'my name is bella' and he's all 'oh my bad, anyway, become one of us or die' and i'm all 'sweet' and then edward goes 'well i'll turn you, but you gotta marry me first' and i'm all WUT. do i LOOK like the marrying type? I CAN'T COMMIT WTF. but i can totes become a vampire guys. just you wait.
and then jacob gets all dramarama when edward returns and gets me in trouble by telling my dad about my motorcycle. as IF. the end.
and for reasons unknown, i'm reading the third one. shoot me now.
View all my reviews.
and other various things:
link of the day: post-it notes stories
song of the day: 20 dollar nosebleed by fall out boy (i know, but really, this album is kind of awesome. i never liked them before. consider old dog learning new tricks and whatnot.) anyhoo, this song is just...well, it's pure pop but it's piano and horns and fabulousity. so suck it and sing along.
thing i'm currently being pretentious about: reading 'the infinite jest' by david foster wallace. i know. i'm that girl.
thing i bought that i didn't know i needed til i saw it: a stained-glass lamp lightbulb. now my bed is lit up in reds and blues and greens like i'm a total hippie at a tgi-fridays. this is unfortunate, but also, SO AWESOME. scientists are not quite sure about the hows and/or whys.
total annoyance: school busses who break out the side-armour katana of the stop sign whilst dumbshit kids contain their rowdy selves and find a seat on the bus. SIT DOWN ALREADY I'M LATE FOR WORK.
final thought for this installment: if craig ferguson ever does a show near you, go to it. just go. take my advice and thank me later. the end.
this blog is going all-encompassing, people. oh that's right. prepare for random of the finest pedigree courtesy of the b. (did i just call myself 'the b'? wow. i may have to put myself on notice.) anyhoo, first up, because it made my boss and my coworker giggle, and that was awesome bc let's face it, my self-confidence is idolizing zero for wanting to *go* somewhere, and wow i'm using a lot of commas- anyway, my reviews for the first two books in the twilight series. long story short? i told my brain i was going to go onto the third book and it threatened to give me a stroke just out of spite.
from goodreads.com:
twilight
book one of the twilight series
rating: 1 of 5 stars
dreck. dreck, dreck, dreck. see how you're not learning much of anything when i repeat the same word over and over? take note, stephenie meyer- unlike blues clues on a weekly basis or crunches or whatever else actually benefits from repeated use, using the same stale phrases will not help an idea set in. if i ever have to hear again how beautiful and perfect edward cullen is, i will not fall in love with him, i will punch him in the stupid domineering condescending creepy stalkerish motherfuck sparkly face.
i could go on for awhile about how much i loathed this book from start to finish but for the sake of short attention spans and my wish to wash it from memory, i'll sum up:
*bella swan (please, what a mary sue name) has no personality. at all. nothing. she is flatter than a pre-training bra tween eating matzoh on the plains of kansas.
*edward cullen is a fucking creep. he is. he WATCHES HER SLEEP, for pete's sake. he tells her what to do and bella gives in every time. he dictates her entire life and is the most condescending prick i've had the misfortune of meeting in the pages of a book.
*the plot took 400 pages to happen, and even up to that point, i say this as a girl who loves both baseball and sparkly things- glittery vampires playing baseball is just downright embarassing. to wit, repeated declarations of 'i love you!' 'but i'm dangerous!' 'but i can't be without you, i'd rather die!' 'i cannot part from you either...wow you smell good' doth not a plot make. seriously. we're given NO reasons for why these two should love each other other than edward's stupid cold marble-like angelfaced beauty and the fact that bella apparently smells delicious. (which, um.) yeah. sorry, that's not the stuff great romances are made of.
*even as much as it infuriated me what with the utter devotion bella has to this creep who tells her exactly what to do (he THROWS HER OVER HIS SHOULDER AND CARRIES HER DOWNSTAIRS FOR BREAKFAST WHEN SHE SAYS SHE'S NOT HUNGRY, PEOPLE. HOW IS THAT AT ALL KOSHER? LOOK, IT'S GOT ME ALL YELLY.), this story also bored me. like woah.
okay so that veered into more than bullet points. sorry. but not sorry at the same time, because wow. that was awful. now all i'm left with is femmy hangover and rising paranoia that my alma mater is going to repossess my english degree for even giving into this sludge to begin with. and so for some reason i've started to read the second.
shut up.
View all my reviews.
new moon
twilight book #2
rating: 1 of 5 stars
so i went into the second book of the twilight series hoping i'd like it more than the first, and that swiftly failed. aside from a bit more exposition and some fleshing out (however slight and anemic) of jacob who is by the way SO MUCH BETTER THAN EDWARD OMG, i hated this story. i couldn't like it. um, no. not even a little bit. stephenie meyer, i demand those 600+ pages' worth of time back. are you KIDDING ME? i mean really? it took you that long to tell me what is essentially diddly shit? look, i can do it quicker:
i am bella swan! i don't want to turn 18 bc i am older than mai twu wuv edward who is 17 on paper but LIKE 100 YEARS OLD IN REALITY WTF. but ennyways, i ttly got a papercut at my vampy bday party and eddie srsly realizes his fam could eat me if i'm so klutzy again, so he leaves. I AM DEPRESSED. i am so depressed i flail about in the woods like a dumbass and then spend months in zombie mode bc what every good vampire story needs is ZOMBIES. then i decide to put myself in danger bc edward will save me, and then i hear edward's voice in my head and it gets me ttly hot. omg you have no idea guys, srsly. so i totally hang out with my old friend jacob black who is, like, have i mentioned a zillion feet taller and warm all the time? whatevs, i'm looking to be ~*reckless*~, so he fixes up motorcycles for us so i can crash around with adrenaline and klutziness bc i am hapless and want to DEFY PEOPLE bc there is an ACHING HOLE IN MY CHEST AND SOUL when edward is gone! i am nothing without my eddie poo. sigh. woe. and so i'm ttly like, hung up on jake after awhile bc he's like, kind of a replacement but NOT AS PERFECT AS MY EDDIEKINS who by the way has still vanished but keeps talking to me in my head cause i'm nutterbutter but totally fine with that. anyhoodles, then jake turns all werewolfy and i'm all wtf and he's all i know right and i'm all why you gotta be hatin on the vampires OMG remember the one from the last book that totally didn't get mentioned til now? yeah she's trying to kill me and jacob is all OMG I'LL SAVE YOU and then i go cliff diving in a hurricane because i'm dumb and somehow i wind up in italy bc edward thought i killed myself and then the super in charge principal vampire is all 'ummmm, yeah. you're immune to our powers, mary sue' and i'm all 'my name is bella' and he's all 'oh my bad, anyway, become one of us or die' and i'm all 'sweet' and then edward goes 'well i'll turn you, but you gotta marry me first' and i'm all WUT. do i LOOK like the marrying type? I CAN'T COMMIT WTF. but i can totes become a vampire guys. just you wait.
and then jacob gets all dramarama when edward returns and gets me in trouble by telling my dad about my motorcycle. as IF. the end.
and for reasons unknown, i'm reading the third one. shoot me now.
View all my reviews.
and other various things:
link of the day: post-it notes stories
song of the day: 20 dollar nosebleed by fall out boy (i know, but really, this album is kind of awesome. i never liked them before. consider old dog learning new tricks and whatnot.) anyhoo, this song is just...well, it's pure pop but it's piano and horns and fabulousity. so suck it and sing along.
thing i'm currently being pretentious about: reading 'the infinite jest' by david foster wallace. i know. i'm that girl.
thing i bought that i didn't know i needed til i saw it: a stained-glass lamp lightbulb. now my bed is lit up in reds and blues and greens like i'm a total hippie at a tgi-fridays. this is unfortunate, but also, SO AWESOME. scientists are not quite sure about the hows and/or whys.
total annoyance: school busses who break out the side-armour katana of the stop sign whilst dumbshit kids contain their rowdy selves and find a seat on the bus. SIT DOWN ALREADY I'M LATE FOR WORK.
final thought for this installment: if craig ferguson ever does a show near you, go to it. just go. take my advice and thank me later. the end.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
ten things i'm thankful for
alright y'all: it's thanksgiving. it's the time of year when, as we gorge on tryptophan-rich turkey and crunchy helmet-smashing football on a blessed day off from work before the crushing madness that is black friday and i've worked retail on black friday and it is not remotely cool if you support this filthy capitalist pig habit, you jerks, by the way i'm kind of only kidding bc omg, save our economy please, and i really lost track of my opening sentence as i do, so i'll cut to the short of the long: we have to be thankful for shit. it's kind of a necessary evil, like dentistry for the soul if you will. so i'm gonna lay down some things i'm glad are around in order to keep my karma up to par, and also bc this blog is dreadfully unwritten in. so there.
10 things i'm thankful for this turkey day, not counting getting paid to sleep in and britney spears' new album which you can tell me is crap but tell me you don't want to dance around even a little bit to 'womanizer' and i'll show you a lying liar who tells lies:
1. the jonas brothers
no shut up. i have a REASON: despite the fact that some of their tunes are rather earwormy ('lovebug' is downright precious, shut up i hate myself so hard for admitting it), this trio of brothers who make music for the tween set reassures me that, despite my hanson adoration of yore, i actually *have* grown up in the past ten years. because oh my GOD, are you serious? this is what passes for music now? no wonder kids these days are culturally bankrupt. (i just used the phrase 'kids these days.' I'M NOT EVEN THIRTY OR ANYTHING.) i actually thought about reviewing 'a little bit longer' in real-time on this 'ere blog with a lovely friend of mine, drinking every time we gagged or laughed (unintentionally). but then i realized i had to work the next morning and it'd be hard to do with alcohol poisoning. so that was scrapped. but to get back on track, i feel a bit more secure about my (admittedly shameless) musical tastes. apparently, despite my love for hillary duff, i do have standards. and that's kind of awesome.
2. snarky facebook bitchfights
so lately my friends have taken to slapping each other around on facebook over silly things like movie quotes and then it escalates into claims of racism and hearty rounds of fuck-you's. it annoys the bejezus out of me (if i had any bejezus in me to begin with, that is...i'm agnostic) and i've definitely had to crack the whip of shame to get them to shut the hell up and stop mucking up my internets. but you know what, i've decided to make like a PR team and spin it, because the truth of it is this: these amazing people are seriously the reason i actually get out of bed in the morning. (well that, and i like being gainfully employed.) really. this is a silly way of me saying i'm incredibly thankful for my friends, because unlike family, i chose them, and they have no reason to stick around if they don't have to. and yet they do. sure they call each other dickholes and strangle the peace on a regular basis, but you know what? i need humor and bitchery in my life, and if i can get it by them shouting about tortillas at each other, so be it. i'm saying it now, and i don't use the word often: i love my friends. that is all.
3. the on-notice board
one of the afore-mentioned friends got me a super fabulous colbert report on notice board for my desk at work. what's not to love about space to list things that are pissing you off? it's creativity, it's therapy, and it's dry-erase! basically i'm thankful to have a bitching space that can be proudly displayed but also wiped clean should the need arise. i mean really, you try getting your car eaten by packrats while having a really random and rare disorder (alliteration!) that makes you pee bright blue for a pretty penny and tell me you wouldn't be super thankful for the exquisitely satisfying ability to put the universe on notice. oh that's right. i went there.
4. arizona blue cross blue shield
for their premiums were managable, their co-pays affordable, and their coverage nearly universal, yea verily amen.
5. pixar
did you not see wall-e? no seriously, you didn't? well then GET IT ON DVD DAMMIT. that robot with his bambi eyes and sense of adorable wonder, and stuff? gave me faith in movies again. okay that's a lie, i hadn't really lost it, per se, but dude. come on. what a great story. the end.
6. vodka
well really. does this even need an explanation? i'm lazy, so it's not getting one. the end.
7. sarah palin
no seriously- there's logic behind this one! (unlike her face, OH SNAP) so basically, this fembot from podunk was supposed to be a shot in the arm to crankypants mccain's campaign but her utter batshit insane frippery was more like a shot in the foot and thus sank a ship that might have sailed otherwise. she, in her you-can-heal-the-gays and you betcha idiocy actually propelled a majority of america to get up off its collective ass and exclaim 'um, fuck you very much, i'd like somebody smarter than my special needs child co-running the country, plzkthx.' and lo, we actually got something right and elected the right guy for the job. oh also, the fact that my mother supported the bimbo and her anti-gay stances and had nerve to actually *dance* (no really. i'm not kidding) when prop 8 passed in california, i really couldn't take it anymore and stormed out of the bisexual closet and shut her the fuck up with a dumbfounded, totally shamed expression on her face for nearly a week. so thank you, sarah palin, for being so delightfully medeival. you tested the limits of america's intellectual patience and thus you promoted real change, gosh darnit you sure did. and so, in the words of dana carvey as the reagan oracle, now GET THE FUCK OUT.
8. my exes
i know, i love my theme of being thankful for bullshit. i'm amazing. no really. this is why i'm thankful for the relationships that have gone awry, and no worries, all will remain nameless: though i love them in the time-tempered way you kind of have to no matter how badly it went awry, a few fine people on this earth have tested my patience and my backbone alike for a long, long time. in all combinations with them, it proved an utter clusterbang of dysfunction, i mean we were terrible for each other every time, and it's because of them that i learned what i actually *need* in a relationship, or a friendship, or in a person in general, don't matter from coworker to best friend. basically i'm thankful for them provoking me into growing a spine and building up my bitchy armor of self-confidence (or at least faux-confidence) so that i really don't take any crap. i used to be a pushover and i'm definitely not anymore, and i've learned that this year in particular. so dearests, thank you. no really. i mean that. now stop reading my blog and get some fresh air outdoors.
9. the people in my office
some of us watch trashy vampire shows, a couple of us are writing a musical about the variety pack of characters we have running around the building, there are martini jokes galore and we've named the fax machine. sure it has the potential to be really dull work but everybody beasted out at halloween in awesome costumes and basically the people i work with are comedic gold. they make me enjoy my job. and that's pretty fucking awesome.
10. nanowrimo 2k8
the month of november has taught me many things. namely, writing isn't so hard when you just push yourself to write a little each day (...and okay, no mention of the fact that i've hit a wall with my story and i'm procrastinating by writing in here instead, shut up i didn't tell you that). seriously. i've fought some major tummy bug, stormed out of the closet, watched the nation play host to political history, weaned myself off dairy and caffeine, covered extra ground at work while my boss was out with broken bones, AND nearly finished writing a novel. this comes with much help from a lot of friends who are extremely supportive and in effect my personal cheerleaders, which is totally wicked. but mainly, i'm not gonna lie- it's coming from me, and damn skippy i'm gonna be proud of that. and okay, so it's not a full novel. i'm less than 8,000 words from the 50,000 word 'win', but i know it's going to take at least another 50,000 to finish it. but you know what? 50,000 words in a month fraught with distraction and ground being broken and all that, i found out i actually have bootstraps. how cool is that? downside: i now have no excuse for not being productive. dammit. my own hole. i dug it.
and that's that. hopefully i'll manage to write in here at least one more time before 2008 is out. predictably it'll be my ten best songs of the year post, but this year maybe i'll do what i meant to do last year and also include my favorite albums as well. who knows, time will tell. as for now, i'm off to write more of my novel. because i'm badass and you can say you knew (or read) me when. so, have a fantastic turkey day --or thursday, either is cool-- and remember: advice at the end of self-indulgent blog posts is generally nonsensical so you can feel free to skip it.
Thursday, August 07, 2008
10 things that were supremely magical about chicago
so this last weekend i went to chicago for the first time in my 26 years, and it. was. awesome. because i still consider myself too young and reckless to really care about the fact that i'm racking up some credit card bills that i totally shouldn't, i took it upon myself to accept an invitation from a very good friend of mine and his completely terrific girlfriend for three days of music, beer, sweat and dance parties that can only be described as the one and only lollapalooza. fun was had, to be sure. so much fun, in fact, that as i tried to procure my flight back to the godforsaken desert, the travel fates would not allow said return trip without much, much ado. we're talking torrential rain and traffic whilst driving to the airport, over two hours of plane delays, and a dead car battery upon return to my vehicle in the desert airport garage. so as i sit here and try to extract an extra 100 shiny-new-battery dollars that i don't have out of the paycheck that's smaller than usual because of the work i missed to go on this trip, i will instead remember ten things that were made of win in the windy city. and thus:
ten of the best parts about lollapalooza and chicago in general, not counting the fact that i managed to only lose $7 in the airport slots whilst waiting for my connecting flight in vegas
1. rage against the goddamn machine, flogging molly, and gogol bordello
i'm telling you guys- you haven't lived until you have been asked, nay, *pleaded* with, by zack de la rocha to step back, please, please, please step back or i will cry. the rage set was fanfreakintastic, they pulled out some chestnuts they rarely play (born of a broken man? i can die happy now) and though the sound was kinda shite in the back half of the crowds, it was still amazing. but getting the set stopped multiple times because it's getting too crowded and chastised by a guy most notable for his rousing chant of 'fuck you i won't do what you tell me!' was kind of hilarious. seriously. we literally got bargained with like toddlers- we don't want to cut our set short, but if you guys don't take some steps back, we're going to end early. oh yes we will. we will turn this show around, don't think we won't! comedic gold. also, flogging molly was epic in a hands-clappy, fiddly, drunken irish bastard kind of way, and gogol? there is nothing comparable to really hot girls with bass drums tom-toming their way around stage while a bunch of hopped-up gypsy punks take the piss on american weddings for not having vodka and herring. awesome. suffice to say the music was top-notch. the end.
2. irish car bombs
we learned from our barkeep (who bristled at being called ma'am, even though we accidentally kept doing it) that you can't call them irish car bombs anymore. apparently they're only car bombs. i don't care what you call them, but those things are delicious. yeah i'm not supposed to have beer bc of teh eeeeevil gluten, but screw it. i'm on vacation and we were severely under-drunk by the time our sunday morning stop-in at the bar rolled around. my super good friend, we'll call him gus even though that's not his name, reminded me that just because i drank mine the fastest did not mean i drank it the best. i disagree, mostly because i'm a brat. also, i was drunk by the time we left. mmmm. irish cream. lovesit.
3. my host who bought all the beverages
i realize this is sort of a carry-over from the last item, but you don't go to chicago planning to be sober, do you? not really. you do, however, expect to spend a shitton of cashmonies, so the fact that super gus kept ponying up the green (or plastic, whichever) to keep the girls buzzed at the bars in the city and the tents at the festival and who also provided us with starbies, dunkin and monster to wake our asses up was both chivalrous and terrifically spendy. kudos to you, my lovely friend. kudos indeed. of course, the universe saw that i managed to not spend as much cash as i'd have imagined and shat the dead car battery upon me. goddamn you, universe. fetch me a mai tai.
4. alcohol on the train
okay, now i just sound like a raging alcoholic. but honestly, as a child raised on the metro of dc where eating, drinking, and probably laughing are all banned on the orange line and every other, being able to imbibe soda and especially soda with booze added, openly and proudly, whilst rolling along the tracks was wickedly delicious. oh, and gus' girlfriend, we'll call her lady overalls, created a superb drink for said train trips: mix sugar-free peach fresca with absolut vanilla. seriously. try it. it's quite possibly my new favorite. so to recap: taking the train can be a bitch, but arriving in chicago drunk and ready to run around until you find out it's kind of too hot and muggy to do that? that's the stuff weekends are made for, for sure.
5. random dance parties
lady overalls was quite the dancing queen, and she was not left wanting- around every turn there were tents of turntables and streets full of dancing, bouncing, swirly people rocking out to dj momjeans and other people whose names i've forgotten because let's face it, dj momjeans is probably the best moniker ever. it was a nonstop slap of electronica in the streets, closed off to traffic for the festival and run amok with stoners and hipsters alike, and nary a silent hip in sight. in case you were unaware, dancing makes everything fun. you wish you were there. you've not lived til you've grinded it out at 2 pm in the sun with double-fisted beers while the high-five squad is marching through to the beat of german house-transe-whatevery goodness. trust me. i wouldn't lie. at least, not about that.
6. trent reznor.
this needs no introduction or explanation, save for the uninitiated: trent reznor is fucking hot. no seriously, shut up. he is. i'm pretty sure it's a standard absolute, like how the angles of a triangle have to add up to 180 degrees and there are 24 hours in a day. as such, if you see trent reznor, you get happy in your bits and pieces, no matter what. hence, when you see NIN crash through 'closer', 'hand that feeds', 'discipline' and 'head like a hole', you're gonna have a good, super sexy time. mmm. trent.
...ohai, i'm back. i went to a place. it was a good place. carry on.
7. important ice truck is important
rarely does one see a funnier sight than a truck equipped with two or three personnel guarding it and a siren-song beep alerting everyone to its presence so that you'll jump your sweet skippy out of the way, only to realize after it passes that the truck was carrying ice. yeah. ice. not musicians, not cops, not heat-stroked bodies in an ambulatory capacity, but ice. and not bags of ice either. no no, big brick blocks of ice the size of refrigerators, the kind you'd see in old-timey tales taking place in the 1800's. in short, it was hysterically amusing and by turns perplexing, as we never received any ice in our drinks. i question lollapalooza's methods.
8. random english gropers
it's really not a trip until you have a run-in with a handsy european who gropes your ass in the name of bonding with your friend over sports. i'm pretty sure there's a book in any standard vacation scrapbook for that very thing.
9. really clean port-o-potties
okay so it's not a highlight, per se, but honestly- when was the last time the cleanliness of a toilet without flushing capability was something you actually made note of? exactly.
10. The Hat.
gus had a fabulous chapeau made of i don't know what, but it was delightfully pork-pie in nature and totally goofy. it was like a fourth companion, and i told him i was going to make note of it but i don't think he believed me. the fact that it commanded double-takes from the straights and hats off (no pun, i swear) from the hipsters proves: The Hat, it is a force. one to be reckoned with. plus lady overalls looked precious in it and it prevented much sunburn, yea verily. and that's really the name of the 3-days-in-the-sun game, isn't it? yes. yes it is.
and those are the haps, my friends, and by haps i mean the highlights or at least things that amused me the most over the course of the lollexperience. this is, of course, neglecting to mention the overall aura that is the magic of a three-day music festival, what with the smells of sunblock, illicit smokey substances, and brats on a stick, the layers of sweat you have to peel off at the end of each day whilst caring for the blisters forming on parts of your feet you didn't even know you had, or the free $25 itunes cards and spin subscrips we got just for putting our pretty little heads into the park; there was of course the city skyline shining during the day and glowing at night, adorable children with mohawks jamming to electronica in their strollers, $6 cups of crappy wine, the freedom to roam and loaf and dance and spin under trees, through fountains and around the fields whenever and wherever, and doing so instead of being at work...ah, twas glory my friends. pure glory. let it never be forgotten. especially not when the credit card bill comes.
ten of the best parts about lollapalooza and chicago in general, not counting the fact that i managed to only lose $7 in the airport slots whilst waiting for my connecting flight in vegas
1. rage against the goddamn machine, flogging molly, and gogol bordello
i'm telling you guys- you haven't lived until you have been asked, nay, *pleaded* with, by zack de la rocha to step back, please, please, please step back or i will cry. the rage set was fanfreakintastic, they pulled out some chestnuts they rarely play (born of a broken man? i can die happy now) and though the sound was kinda shite in the back half of the crowds, it was still amazing. but getting the set stopped multiple times because it's getting too crowded and chastised by a guy most notable for his rousing chant of 'fuck you i won't do what you tell me!' was kind of hilarious. seriously. we literally got bargained with like toddlers- we don't want to cut our set short, but if you guys don't take some steps back, we're going to end early. oh yes we will. we will turn this show around, don't think we won't! comedic gold. also, flogging molly was epic in a hands-clappy, fiddly, drunken irish bastard kind of way, and gogol? there is nothing comparable to really hot girls with bass drums tom-toming their way around stage while a bunch of hopped-up gypsy punks take the piss on american weddings for not having vodka and herring. awesome. suffice to say the music was top-notch. the end.
2. irish car bombs
we learned from our barkeep (who bristled at being called ma'am, even though we accidentally kept doing it) that you can't call them irish car bombs anymore. apparently they're only car bombs. i don't care what you call them, but those things are delicious. yeah i'm not supposed to have beer bc of teh eeeeevil gluten, but screw it. i'm on vacation and we were severely under-drunk by the time our sunday morning stop-in at the bar rolled around. my super good friend, we'll call him gus even though that's not his name, reminded me that just because i drank mine the fastest did not mean i drank it the best. i disagree, mostly because i'm a brat. also, i was drunk by the time we left. mmmm. irish cream. lovesit.
3. my host who bought all the beverages
i realize this is sort of a carry-over from the last item, but you don't go to chicago planning to be sober, do you? not really. you do, however, expect to spend a shitton of cashmonies, so the fact that super gus kept ponying up the green (or plastic, whichever) to keep the girls buzzed at the bars in the city and the tents at the festival and who also provided us with starbies, dunkin and monster to wake our asses up was both chivalrous and terrifically spendy. kudos to you, my lovely friend. kudos indeed. of course, the universe saw that i managed to not spend as much cash as i'd have imagined and shat the dead car battery upon me. goddamn you, universe. fetch me a mai tai.
4. alcohol on the train
okay, now i just sound like a raging alcoholic. but honestly, as a child raised on the metro of dc where eating, drinking, and probably laughing are all banned on the orange line and every other, being able to imbibe soda and especially soda with booze added, openly and proudly, whilst rolling along the tracks was wickedly delicious. oh, and gus' girlfriend, we'll call her lady overalls, created a superb drink for said train trips: mix sugar-free peach fresca with absolut vanilla. seriously. try it. it's quite possibly my new favorite. so to recap: taking the train can be a bitch, but arriving in chicago drunk and ready to run around until you find out it's kind of too hot and muggy to do that? that's the stuff weekends are made for, for sure.
5. random dance parties
lady overalls was quite the dancing queen, and she was not left wanting- around every turn there were tents of turntables and streets full of dancing, bouncing, swirly people rocking out to dj momjeans and other people whose names i've forgotten because let's face it, dj momjeans is probably the best moniker ever. it was a nonstop slap of electronica in the streets, closed off to traffic for the festival and run amok with stoners and hipsters alike, and nary a silent hip in sight. in case you were unaware, dancing makes everything fun. you wish you were there. you've not lived til you've grinded it out at 2 pm in the sun with double-fisted beers while the high-five squad is marching through to the beat of german house-transe-whatevery goodness. trust me. i wouldn't lie. at least, not about that.
6. trent reznor.
this needs no introduction or explanation, save for the uninitiated: trent reznor is fucking hot. no seriously, shut up. he is. i'm pretty sure it's a standard absolute, like how the angles of a triangle have to add up to 180 degrees and there are 24 hours in a day. as such, if you see trent reznor, you get happy in your bits and pieces, no matter what. hence, when you see NIN crash through 'closer', 'hand that feeds', 'discipline' and 'head like a hole', you're gonna have a good, super sexy time. mmm. trent.
...ohai, i'm back. i went to a place. it was a good place. carry on.
7. important ice truck is important
rarely does one see a funnier sight than a truck equipped with two or three personnel guarding it and a siren-song beep alerting everyone to its presence so that you'll jump your sweet skippy out of the way, only to realize after it passes that the truck was carrying ice. yeah. ice. not musicians, not cops, not heat-stroked bodies in an ambulatory capacity, but ice. and not bags of ice either. no no, big brick blocks of ice the size of refrigerators, the kind you'd see in old-timey tales taking place in the 1800's. in short, it was hysterically amusing and by turns perplexing, as we never received any ice in our drinks. i question lollapalooza's methods.
8. random english gropers
it's really not a trip until you have a run-in with a handsy european who gropes your ass in the name of bonding with your friend over sports. i'm pretty sure there's a book in any standard vacation scrapbook for that very thing.
9. really clean port-o-potties
okay so it's not a highlight, per se, but honestly- when was the last time the cleanliness of a toilet without flushing capability was something you actually made note of? exactly.
10. The Hat.
gus had a fabulous chapeau made of i don't know what, but it was delightfully pork-pie in nature and totally goofy. it was like a fourth companion, and i told him i was going to make note of it but i don't think he believed me. the fact that it commanded double-takes from the straights and hats off (no pun, i swear) from the hipsters proves: The Hat, it is a force. one to be reckoned with. plus lady overalls looked precious in it and it prevented much sunburn, yea verily. and that's really the name of the 3-days-in-the-sun game, isn't it? yes. yes it is.
and those are the haps, my friends, and by haps i mean the highlights or at least things that amused me the most over the course of the lollexperience. this is, of course, neglecting to mention the overall aura that is the magic of a three-day music festival, what with the smells of sunblock, illicit smokey substances, and brats on a stick, the layers of sweat you have to peel off at the end of each day whilst caring for the blisters forming on parts of your feet you didn't even know you had, or the free $25 itunes cards and spin subscrips we got just for putting our pretty little heads into the park; there was of course the city skyline shining during the day and glowing at night, adorable children with mohawks jamming to electronica in their strollers, $6 cups of crappy wine, the freedom to roam and loaf and dance and spin under trees, through fountains and around the fields whenever and wherever, and doing so instead of being at work...ah, twas glory my friends. pure glory. let it never be forgotten. especially not when the credit card bill comes.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
10 songs i'm into at the moment
yeah i know, i keep coming back to music more than, say, books or palpable news items or what have you and i recognize that it's a bit tired. to which i say bite me. it's my blog, not yours, bitchez. anyhoo, i realize i haven't updated this thing in half of forever lately, and well, i'd apologize but that's not my style. i embrace my laze. plus it's summer in the desert, and it's by far too hot to do anything remotely productive (ie: thinking of general post ideas). so instead i'm staying in my air conditioned cave (cave with windows, go figure) and listening to a lot of tunes and now i'm going to share some. if you want to take a listen, i've stitched these ten little ditties together into one 40-minute mini-mix of sorts, and you can download it here. because i love you and also, what's the point of loving music if not to share, yes? duh. anyway.
ten songs i'm listening to a lot lately, which is saying something bc you'd think i'd be boning up on the folks playing at lollapalooza in t-minus three weeks (admit it, you're jealous) but no, i'm listening to these instead. la di da.
1. just --mark ronson
jazz interpretation of a radiohead song? yes please. i heard this in chipotle of all places the other day, and fell in love with it over my chicken guac bowl. covers of radiohead are scattered about the interwebs like as many an easter egg, and while some fail, others are quite interesting at the very least (sia's cover of 'paranoid andrdoid' comes to mind). this is probably my favorite so far. dancing to radiohead? who'd have thunk it.
2. modern guilt --beck
in the words of a good friend of mine, 'hey, i hear beck's depressed again! but not country depressed.' which is to say, his new album is no sea change or mutations (arguably some of his best, mutations being my absolute favorite) but it definitely doesn't leave me cold like 'information'. i think the title track is a decent interpretation of the album as a whole- a bit of bounce, but a bit of melancholy too. and bloops and beeps. because it's beck, obvs.
3. morningside --sara bareilles
it's no secret i'm a sucker for a girl with a piano, so naturally sara bareilles will make a cameo. she's the girl behind that oh-so-earwormy 'love song', which i do adore. this song here is more of her bouncy, slightly cynical but still fun piano pop. good times.
4. fight with tools --flobots
another very good friend of mine says he predicts 'big things for the flobots.' i was hesitant to agree, but after actually listening to 'handlebars' when it came up on the radio (do yourself a favor and listen to it as well...it's rather a genius testament to how much power can corrupt), i had to fetch the album. i'm going to side with aforementioned good friend of mine and say the flobots are going to be amazing, given time. rock hybrid with hip hop featuring a girl on the viola? check. message? check. addictive album? double check. i threw the title track into this mix because i think it showcases everything about them that makes me love them, down to the phrase 'rich get ricocheted'. awesome.
5. black and gold --sam sparro
i really can't figure out if this is supposed to be a song about the love of your life, or god, or maybe even a cheeseburger. who knows. but it's rather well crafted and just a good slice of electronica.
6. fingerprints --katy perry
okay. i know people love to hate on katy perry, and yes, she's very standard pop. no boundaries being broken, but i don't care. sometimes music doesn't have to break new ground. sometimes it's just as much fun when someone finds their niche and fills it exquisitely. i love a fair few tracks on her album, but i chose this one because let's face it, we've all heard 'ur so gay' and 'i kissed a girl' ad nauseum and this track is just a good solid pop song about that classic quarter-life crisis.
7. chocolate --paranoid social club
this band is hilariously awesome. the best way i could describe them is a fusion of hip pop, skater rock, drinking anthems and stoner chill mixed with some waltzy melody and a wicked sense of humor. this song is an ode to wanting a 'chocolate-covered girlfriend', or rather, the age-old white boy lusts after black girl and black girl is all srsly dude plz and the guy's all cmon gimme a try and the girl's all whatev and then there's dancing. it's adorably crass and sweet at the same time, and the line 'white boy take your skateboard and go find something else to grind' amuses me every time. plus it's danceable. what more do you want dammit?
8. astronaut --priscilla ahn
oh, priscilla ahn. you are lovely. this girl makes sweet, gentle pop tunes full of comfort and guitar. her voice is plush and unassuming, and her music is just beautiful. her entire album, 'a good day' is pure sweet goodness, and this is one of my favorite atmospheric songs from it. i really can't help but wish this girl much, much success. she's not going to blow anybody's world away, but she just makes me smile. i could listen to her whole album on repeat for hours.
9. butterfly --jason mraz
okay. not gonna lie. i have a wicked soft spot for mr mraz, possibly because he's from my home state (go virginia, woo. yeah i know, nobody else is cheering, but i don't care), or possibly because his first album was so damn infectious. he's not yet recaptured the summery breeze that was 'waiting for my rocket to come', but his new album is pretty damn good. coming from that, this is a perfectly danceable jazzy tune about, well, a girl's 'butterfly.' naughty but not obscene. and good summer music so far as i'm concerned, and since i'm running this ship, i don't have to answer to anybody else do i? unless this is a ship on the water, then i'll have to answer to the sea. but it's not so i don't. or something. nevermind.
10. distant dreamer --duffy
i think it's been established by now that i'm a sucker for sweeping songs, lyrics about getting 'out of here' or 'away from here', or anything that involves orchestra. plus duffy is so freaking adorable. she's a little pint-sized 24-year old welsh (i think?) singer who's doing neo-soul some good after the trainwreck that is la winehouse has turned into a drunken spectacle of disease and not song. her voice is distinctive, light but strong, and really her whole album is amazing. this song is just spectacular in my opinion though. cheesy, sure, but who doesn't love cheese? hell i'm lactose intolerant and i still adore it. so there. *bangs gavel*
and that's that. if you somehow missed it, you can find all these little songs mushed together here, and hopefully kill 40 minutes with some new tunes. i'll probably do this again next week, because if i am prone to do anything, it's babble about songs. it's something to do in lieu of actually writing them. because i'm a major dork. but you knew that. okay. i'm ending this now.
ten songs i'm listening to a lot lately, which is saying something bc you'd think i'd be boning up on the folks playing at lollapalooza in t-minus three weeks (admit it, you're jealous) but no, i'm listening to these instead. la di da.
1. just --mark ronson
jazz interpretation of a radiohead song? yes please. i heard this in chipotle of all places the other day, and fell in love with it over my chicken guac bowl. covers of radiohead are scattered about the interwebs like as many an easter egg, and while some fail, others are quite interesting at the very least (sia's cover of 'paranoid andrdoid' comes to mind). this is probably my favorite so far. dancing to radiohead? who'd have thunk it.
2. modern guilt --beck
in the words of a good friend of mine, 'hey, i hear beck's depressed again! but not country depressed.' which is to say, his new album is no sea change or mutations (arguably some of his best, mutations being my absolute favorite) but it definitely doesn't leave me cold like 'information'. i think the title track is a decent interpretation of the album as a whole- a bit of bounce, but a bit of melancholy too. and bloops and beeps. because it's beck, obvs.
3. morningside --sara bareilles
it's no secret i'm a sucker for a girl with a piano, so naturally sara bareilles will make a cameo. she's the girl behind that oh-so-earwormy 'love song', which i do adore. this song here is more of her bouncy, slightly cynical but still fun piano pop. good times.
4. fight with tools --flobots
another very good friend of mine says he predicts 'big things for the flobots.' i was hesitant to agree, but after actually listening to 'handlebars' when it came up on the radio (do yourself a favor and listen to it as well...it's rather a genius testament to how much power can corrupt), i had to fetch the album. i'm going to side with aforementioned good friend of mine and say the flobots are going to be amazing, given time. rock hybrid with hip hop featuring a girl on the viola? check. message? check. addictive album? double check. i threw the title track into this mix because i think it showcases everything about them that makes me love them, down to the phrase 'rich get ricocheted'. awesome.
5. black and gold --sam sparro
i really can't figure out if this is supposed to be a song about the love of your life, or god, or maybe even a cheeseburger. who knows. but it's rather well crafted and just a good slice of electronica.
6. fingerprints --katy perry
okay. i know people love to hate on katy perry, and yes, she's very standard pop. no boundaries being broken, but i don't care. sometimes music doesn't have to break new ground. sometimes it's just as much fun when someone finds their niche and fills it exquisitely. i love a fair few tracks on her album, but i chose this one because let's face it, we've all heard 'ur so gay' and 'i kissed a girl' ad nauseum and this track is just a good solid pop song about that classic quarter-life crisis.
7. chocolate --paranoid social club
this band is hilariously awesome. the best way i could describe them is a fusion of hip pop, skater rock, drinking anthems and stoner chill mixed with some waltzy melody and a wicked sense of humor. this song is an ode to wanting a 'chocolate-covered girlfriend', or rather, the age-old white boy lusts after black girl and black girl is all srsly dude plz and the guy's all cmon gimme a try and the girl's all whatev and then there's dancing. it's adorably crass and sweet at the same time, and the line 'white boy take your skateboard and go find something else to grind' amuses me every time. plus it's danceable. what more do you want dammit?
8. astronaut --priscilla ahn
oh, priscilla ahn. you are lovely. this girl makes sweet, gentle pop tunes full of comfort and guitar. her voice is plush and unassuming, and her music is just beautiful. her entire album, 'a good day' is pure sweet goodness, and this is one of my favorite atmospheric songs from it. i really can't help but wish this girl much, much success. she's not going to blow anybody's world away, but she just makes me smile. i could listen to her whole album on repeat for hours.
9. butterfly --jason mraz
okay. not gonna lie. i have a wicked soft spot for mr mraz, possibly because he's from my home state (go virginia, woo. yeah i know, nobody else is cheering, but i don't care), or possibly because his first album was so damn infectious. he's not yet recaptured the summery breeze that was 'waiting for my rocket to come', but his new album is pretty damn good. coming from that, this is a perfectly danceable jazzy tune about, well, a girl's 'butterfly.' naughty but not obscene. and good summer music so far as i'm concerned, and since i'm running this ship, i don't have to answer to anybody else do i? unless this is a ship on the water, then i'll have to answer to the sea. but it's not so i don't. or something. nevermind.
10. distant dreamer --duffy
i think it's been established by now that i'm a sucker for sweeping songs, lyrics about getting 'out of here' or 'away from here', or anything that involves orchestra. plus duffy is so freaking adorable. she's a little pint-sized 24-year old welsh (i think?) singer who's doing neo-soul some good after the trainwreck that is la winehouse has turned into a drunken spectacle of disease and not song. her voice is distinctive, light but strong, and really her whole album is amazing. this song is just spectacular in my opinion though. cheesy, sure, but who doesn't love cheese? hell i'm lactose intolerant and i still adore it. so there. *bangs gavel*
and that's that. if you somehow missed it, you can find all these little songs mushed together here, and hopefully kill 40 minutes with some new tunes. i'll probably do this again next week, because if i am prone to do anything, it's babble about songs. it's something to do in lieu of actually writing them. because i'm a major dork. but you knew that. okay. i'm ending this now.
Friday, June 06, 2008
ten things i adore at the moment
ohai, readers! how've you two or three been? i realize i have not written in this cobwebby corner of the internets in what, like, a quarter of a year, and for that i apologize. i'm made of fail. well actually to be precise, i'm rather a concoction that is one part fail, one part ADD, and one part vodka, all strained through writer's block. serve caffeinated, with a silly straw.
right, anyway. so this is just a quick list tonight to get myself back on the ball, disregarding the fact that one of course cannot get on a ball without falling off bc hello, pivot points and roundish things and gravity being the law and all that. anyhoo, this is a blog and what is a blog if not your place for shameless pondering about crap nobody else cares about? exactly. so in that spirit, i'll get to the me me me-ness of it all: it's safe to say that my life is as it always is- neither here nor there. flux and steps forward and back and lack of direction and loftiest of expectations and all that nonsense have left me feeling a bit...well...blah lately. i know. however many thousands of dollars for an english degree and i can sum up my life four years after achieving said degree with a succinct 'blah.' they're going to repossess the frame on my wall tomorrow, and its contents as well. i can feel it.
aaaaaaanyway, i was taking stock of my life whilst washing the dinner dishes earlier and i had to tell myself that while things may be kind of sucky lately, life does not throw a cloud at you without one of those irritably shiny silver lining things attached. and you know what i love? silver things. and shiny things. and glitter. and things that glow. and stars. and also? these ten things, for what is a life full of ups and downs without a few solid, toothy surprises that warm your evil belly every now and again? exactly. and so i present to thee, interwebs:
ten things i'm adoring at the moment, with links where applicable so you can join in on the fun if you're into that thing, and if you're not, then generally speaking you're in the right place bc this blog is in the business of snark but just this once i'm bucking the trend and going all HAPPY POD PERSON, OH MY GOD, THE HUGH MANATEE!
1. 'let's dance to joy division' by the wombats
this is a free song available on itunes this week. go get it before you have to pay 99 pennies. it's glorious. what's not to like about british boys bouncing around the room in what is the sonic equivalent of dancing in your skivvies with a wooden spoon or hairbrush for a microphone? you may be wearing embarassing socks and have your hair sculped into prime bedhead formation if you'd like. for the record, joy division makes me want to drown myself or the nearest victim in tartar sauce, but this song is effing awesome. it's especially fun to chairdance to at work and collect weird looks from the passers by. squares! oh yeah that's right. i said it. oh and for the record? wombats are kick ass. the animals, i mean.
2. the new mountain dew flavors
i'm not going to pretend i remember the names or the flavors or anything (but these guys do, so take a gander if you must be informed), but by jove or joe or jobe or gum or whatever your by ____ preference, how much fun is it to find three new glories sitting side by icy side in the 7-11 soda fridges? it is a bounty of blue 5 and red lake 40 and carbonation and caffeine and artificial berry flavors, my friends. it is pure bubbly strange-fruit bliss. added bonus, three bottles should be able to power you through your work day, whether it be at the law firm or the guy who's helping to build the median and fuck up the traffic with cones and jackhammer chatter right in front of said office, like, could you please maybe NOT put that cone there, i want to turn into my parking lot and oh my god do you mean i have to loop two blocks around to turn around and come to my building from the other way? WHAT?! oh my god, there's too much caffeine in this beverage. and it's delightful. oh and plus you can go visit the land o' dewmocracy to vote for your favorite. let's face it- now that the primaries are over (can i get an amen, even from the flying spaghetti monster contingent? cmon. even you guys are thinking it. don't lie. i weave these words like a polygraph son.) (okay that made no sense. apologies. blame the caffeine.) (mmmmmm fake berry flavor) (PEANUT BUTTER JELLY TIME) (oh the heart palpitations) (and the unending parenthetical thoughts!) and american idol is cooling its cowellian jets til next season, you can vote for what *really* matters. namely, the next beverage to give the hearts of america's youth its very first fruit roll-up-flavored hemmorage. yay! democracy! give thanks. some people only get the green flavor.
3. precious friends of mine
one of whom called not long ago to ask 'what is cream of tartar, and where do i find it in the store? i know it's not the same as tartar sauce, but...' and that's really all there is to that. she's a gem. if your friends can't give you a grin then you've clearly got to get new friends. no really. true story.
::super edit action!::
another super awesome friend of mine pointed me in the direction of the video for weezer's 'pork and beans'. suffice to say it is a time-capsule of amazing, a conglomerate of viral fame and completely nonsensical. it will make no sense in months or years. but right now it's totally fucking boss, because it's the now that's the most fun anyway. and so i give you:
...magic.
4. this biker picture
in case this fire and brimstone stuff turns out to be the real deal (though i'm on the side of carbon dating and dinosaurs, truth be told), then i'm definitely going to hell. and if i'm already going, then i'm not going to feel bad by posting this and saying i nearly cramped a stitch in my stomach laughing, and no i was not drunk or stoned at the time. the laughter was just that spontaneous and evil:
i mean...my questions are so-many fold. who is standing by taking pictures of such rampant stupidity? who was so dull-witted behind the wheel that they couldn't give 10 bikers 50 feet? and who in their right mind is out on a bike in the southwestern summer anyway? i'd ask these questions but i'm still howling at the bikes and handlebars and helmets flying every which way into what can only be an eventual pavement omelet. hell. going there. got my reservation already. i hear the continental breakfast is the suck, but it's hell so what were you expecting? by the way, if you want the actual story behind said crash-and-burn hilarity, click here. you're welcome.
5. the fail blog
i make no lies- destruction is hilarious. people falling cracks me up. someone getting smacked in the junk is a riot. the fail blog captures that and everything else imaginable, be it people or objects, doing what they were destined to do: fail miserably for the humorous sake of the cushy online onlooker. boats, cows, bird poop, toll booths, security guards-- nothing is safe or sacred, everything is destined to faceplant, and every entry in this glorious ode to the art of error is guaranteed to make you snort your beverage. i'm thinking of submitting the above biker picture to be honest. i meant it when i said i'm going to hypothetical hell.
6. the 'things younger than mccain' blog
if this masterpiece of factoids and rampant sense-making doesn't make sure you at least *consider* not voting in our potential oldest and blandest president to date (i'm in arizona, i can mock him. seriously. i blame half the sun problems on him. GET US A DOME.), it will at least make you laugh. and probably hungry, as delicious food products get relatively frequent mentions, alongside gloriously random facts. and sometimes there are family guy clips. get on it. it's a blog for the ages.
7. iron man
this doesn't even need an explanation, but i'll do it in a simple list-within-a-list:
a) robert downey jr being hot and smart and effortlessly badass and hot again
b) faceplants and sassy robots
c) the most amazing gadgetry this side of any universe ever, like, suck it aliens
d) the dude does not abide, for he is the villain.
the end.
8. hagen dasz coconut sorbet
being a fat kid who is a recently diagnosed celiac who also has to eat dairy-free, i'm having the biggest devil of a time living without gluten and milk. seriously. you never know how hard you're going to miss wheat and its elastic materials (see: everything with flour in it) and milk and its brethren (read: everything *else* if it doesn't have flour in it) until you can't eat it, because IT IS SERIOUSLY IN EVERYTHING. BUT. hagen dasz came to my rescue, for they make a delicious sorbet out of coconut and sugar and ice and magic that allows me to enjoy dessert with the other kids on the culinary playground. plus it's relatively healthy as hagen dasz goes- less than 200 calories per serving, wrapped up in a dairy-free bow. thank you, sweet gods. for i can still retain my fatty status without sacrificing sugar. hooray!
9. the primaries are goddamn OVER.
yeah so i'm an obama girl. no lie. but whoever you were (or are) pulling for, can we just seriously relish the fact that the primaries are oh vee eee arrrrr ? yes. yes we can. i'm equating this to the 2004 alcs- the primaries were the *real* race. the red sox coming from behind to swarm the yankees was amazing to see. once they won the whole thing it was rather a denoumont. (that's fancy-speak for 'kind of a let down, y'all.) so whoever wins the *actual* election, the primaries was the fight to watch. granted it got about ten dozen kinds of nasty between the two who were dancing nearly identical moves around the issue floor, but in the end i think it came down to a nation unable to deal with the old. in with the new. or mabye people really *are* willing to vote for a black dude over a white lady, who knows. i'm no pundit or sense-maker. i'm just glad that thing one and thing two aren't going to be doing battle against each other anymore. i mean i know democrats do party splintering like nobody else, but for real- can we just not elect mccain and get it over with? thanks.
10. 'splenetic'
this was the word of the day on tuesday in my word-a-day calendar of greatness, and it did provide much phonetic fun. for starters, it starts with a good 'spl' noise, which is joyous. it's the first half of 'splat', which is *so* satisfying to say. cmon. i dare you not to form that bit with your mouth and not grin. it is intrinsically pleasing. and then the 'etic' at the end makes it sound all fancy and intellectual. it's an orgy of syllables and cushy sounds that are both mean and bouncy at the same time, so at this point the word's meaning is irrelevant, but the language mavens of old took it up a notch and gave it a great definition: it means spiteful, you guys. of ill humor, mean-spirited, and spiteful. that's my language. this right here is why i have such a love affair with words. you wade through many that drive you up a tree, but when you find the one that encapsulates your being in such a comfortable mush of sounds and letters, you love it and cherish it and pet it and marry it if states will overcome both gay marriage *and* word marriage. but that's a bit too progressive for this era, i'm afraid. shame. i shall write said era a splenetic letter. badumching!
and that's that. i know. this veered, and i am weird. plus i rhyme when i don't really mean to. i'd seek help, but i've got laundry to do. have a great weekend y'all! coming next: i'm going to challenge myself to write an entry every day for a week. we'll see how this goes. ten reasons i'll most likely fail at it? you just read my mind. cut that shit out.
right, anyway. so this is just a quick list tonight to get myself back on the ball, disregarding the fact that one of course cannot get on a ball without falling off bc hello, pivot points and roundish things and gravity being the law and all that. anyhoo, this is a blog and what is a blog if not your place for shameless pondering about crap nobody else cares about? exactly. so in that spirit, i'll get to the me me me-ness of it all: it's safe to say that my life is as it always is- neither here nor there. flux and steps forward and back and lack of direction and loftiest of expectations and all that nonsense have left me feeling a bit...well...blah lately. i know. however many thousands of dollars for an english degree and i can sum up my life four years after achieving said degree with a succinct 'blah.' they're going to repossess the frame on my wall tomorrow, and its contents as well. i can feel it.
aaaaaaanyway, i was taking stock of my life whilst washing the dinner dishes earlier and i had to tell myself that while things may be kind of sucky lately, life does not throw a cloud at you without one of those irritably shiny silver lining things attached. and you know what i love? silver things. and shiny things. and glitter. and things that glow. and stars. and also? these ten things, for what is a life full of ups and downs without a few solid, toothy surprises that warm your evil belly every now and again? exactly. and so i present to thee, interwebs:
ten things i'm adoring at the moment, with links where applicable so you can join in on the fun if you're into that thing, and if you're not, then generally speaking you're in the right place bc this blog is in the business of snark but just this once i'm bucking the trend and going all HAPPY POD PERSON, OH MY GOD, THE HUGH MANATEE!
1. 'let's dance to joy division' by the wombats
this is a free song available on itunes this week. go get it before you have to pay 99 pennies. it's glorious. what's not to like about british boys bouncing around the room in what is the sonic equivalent of dancing in your skivvies with a wooden spoon or hairbrush for a microphone? you may be wearing embarassing socks and have your hair sculped into prime bedhead formation if you'd like. for the record, joy division makes me want to drown myself or the nearest victim in tartar sauce, but this song is effing awesome. it's especially fun to chairdance to at work and collect weird looks from the passers by. squares! oh yeah that's right. i said it. oh and for the record? wombats are kick ass. the animals, i mean.
2. the new mountain dew flavors
i'm not going to pretend i remember the names or the flavors or anything (but these guys do, so take a gander if you must be informed), but by jove or joe or jobe or gum or whatever your by ____ preference, how much fun is it to find three new glories sitting side by icy side in the 7-11 soda fridges? it is a bounty of blue 5 and red lake 40 and carbonation and caffeine and artificial berry flavors, my friends. it is pure bubbly strange-fruit bliss. added bonus, three bottles should be able to power you through your work day, whether it be at the law firm or the guy who's helping to build the median and fuck up the traffic with cones and jackhammer chatter right in front of said office, like, could you please maybe NOT put that cone there, i want to turn into my parking lot and oh my god do you mean i have to loop two blocks around to turn around and come to my building from the other way? WHAT?! oh my god, there's too much caffeine in this beverage. and it's delightful. oh and plus you can go visit the land o' dewmocracy to vote for your favorite. let's face it- now that the primaries are over (can i get an amen, even from the flying spaghetti monster contingent? cmon. even you guys are thinking it. don't lie. i weave these words like a polygraph son.) (okay that made no sense. apologies. blame the caffeine.) (mmmmmm fake berry flavor) (PEANUT BUTTER JELLY TIME) (oh the heart palpitations) (and the unending parenthetical thoughts!) and american idol is cooling its cowellian jets til next season, you can vote for what *really* matters. namely, the next beverage to give the hearts of america's youth its very first fruit roll-up-flavored hemmorage. yay! democracy! give thanks. some people only get the green flavor.
3. precious friends of mine
one of whom called not long ago to ask 'what is cream of tartar, and where do i find it in the store? i know it's not the same as tartar sauce, but...' and that's really all there is to that. she's a gem. if your friends can't give you a grin then you've clearly got to get new friends. no really. true story.
::super edit action!::
another super awesome friend of mine pointed me in the direction of the video for weezer's 'pork and beans'. suffice to say it is a time-capsule of amazing, a conglomerate of viral fame and completely nonsensical. it will make no sense in months or years. but right now it's totally fucking boss, because it's the now that's the most fun anyway. and so i give you:
...magic.
4. this biker picture
in case this fire and brimstone stuff turns out to be the real deal (though i'm on the side of carbon dating and dinosaurs, truth be told), then i'm definitely going to hell. and if i'm already going, then i'm not going to feel bad by posting this and saying i nearly cramped a stitch in my stomach laughing, and no i was not drunk or stoned at the time. the laughter was just that spontaneous and evil:
i mean...my questions are so-many fold. who is standing by taking pictures of such rampant stupidity? who was so dull-witted behind the wheel that they couldn't give 10 bikers 50 feet? and who in their right mind is out on a bike in the southwestern summer anyway? i'd ask these questions but i'm still howling at the bikes and handlebars and helmets flying every which way into what can only be an eventual pavement omelet. hell. going there. got my reservation already. i hear the continental breakfast is the suck, but it's hell so what were you expecting? by the way, if you want the actual story behind said crash-and-burn hilarity, click here. you're welcome.
5. the fail blog
i make no lies- destruction is hilarious. people falling cracks me up. someone getting smacked in the junk is a riot. the fail blog captures that and everything else imaginable, be it people or objects, doing what they were destined to do: fail miserably for the humorous sake of the cushy online onlooker. boats, cows, bird poop, toll booths, security guards-- nothing is safe or sacred, everything is destined to faceplant, and every entry in this glorious ode to the art of error is guaranteed to make you snort your beverage. i'm thinking of submitting the above biker picture to be honest. i meant it when i said i'm going to hypothetical hell.
6. the 'things younger than mccain' blog
if this masterpiece of factoids and rampant sense-making doesn't make sure you at least *consider* not voting in our potential oldest and blandest president to date (i'm in arizona, i can mock him. seriously. i blame half the sun problems on him. GET US A DOME.), it will at least make you laugh. and probably hungry, as delicious food products get relatively frequent mentions, alongside gloriously random facts. and sometimes there are family guy clips. get on it. it's a blog for the ages.
7. iron man
this doesn't even need an explanation, but i'll do it in a simple list-within-a-list:
a) robert downey jr being hot and smart and effortlessly badass and hot again
b) faceplants and sassy robots
c) the most amazing gadgetry this side of any universe ever, like, suck it aliens
d) the dude does not abide, for he is the villain.
the end.
8. hagen dasz coconut sorbet
being a fat kid who is a recently diagnosed celiac who also has to eat dairy-free, i'm having the biggest devil of a time living without gluten and milk. seriously. you never know how hard you're going to miss wheat and its elastic materials (see: everything with flour in it) and milk and its brethren (read: everything *else* if it doesn't have flour in it) until you can't eat it, because IT IS SERIOUSLY IN EVERYTHING. BUT. hagen dasz came to my rescue, for they make a delicious sorbet out of coconut and sugar and ice and magic that allows me to enjoy dessert with the other kids on the culinary playground. plus it's relatively healthy as hagen dasz goes- less than 200 calories per serving, wrapped up in a dairy-free bow. thank you, sweet gods. for i can still retain my fatty status without sacrificing sugar. hooray!
9. the primaries are goddamn OVER.
yeah so i'm an obama girl. no lie. but whoever you were (or are) pulling for, can we just seriously relish the fact that the primaries are oh vee eee arrrrr ? yes. yes we can. i'm equating this to the 2004 alcs- the primaries were the *real* race. the red sox coming from behind to swarm the yankees was amazing to see. once they won the whole thing it was rather a denoumont. (that's fancy-speak for 'kind of a let down, y'all.) so whoever wins the *actual* election, the primaries was the fight to watch. granted it got about ten dozen kinds of nasty between the two who were dancing nearly identical moves around the issue floor, but in the end i think it came down to a nation unable to deal with the old. in with the new. or mabye people really *are* willing to vote for a black dude over a white lady, who knows. i'm no pundit or sense-maker. i'm just glad that thing one and thing two aren't going to be doing battle against each other anymore. i mean i know democrats do party splintering like nobody else, but for real- can we just not elect mccain and get it over with? thanks.
10. 'splenetic'
this was the word of the day on tuesday in my word-a-day calendar of greatness, and it did provide much phonetic fun. for starters, it starts with a good 'spl' noise, which is joyous. it's the first half of 'splat', which is *so* satisfying to say. cmon. i dare you not to form that bit with your mouth and not grin. it is intrinsically pleasing. and then the 'etic' at the end makes it sound all fancy and intellectual. it's an orgy of syllables and cushy sounds that are both mean and bouncy at the same time, so at this point the word's meaning is irrelevant, but the language mavens of old took it up a notch and gave it a great definition: it means spiteful, you guys. of ill humor, mean-spirited, and spiteful. that's my language. this right here is why i have such a love affair with words. you wade through many that drive you up a tree, but when you find the one that encapsulates your being in such a comfortable mush of sounds and letters, you love it and cherish it and pet it and marry it if states will overcome both gay marriage *and* word marriage. but that's a bit too progressive for this era, i'm afraid. shame. i shall write said era a splenetic letter. badumching!
and that's that. i know. this veered, and i am weird. plus i rhyme when i don't really mean to. i'd seek help, but i've got laundry to do. have a great weekend y'all! coming next: i'm going to challenge myself to write an entry every day for a week. we'll see how this goes. ten reasons i'll most likely fail at it? you just read my mind. cut that shit out.
Monday, March 03, 2008
from the mixed-files of excusey mcwhinerson
christ on a crutch with bastard sauce people, okay, i WILL update. but you try living between two sets of dumbshit neighbors, one with parrots that think kelly clarkson karaoke is a good thing to try at 2 am, and another who recently brought the spawn of kujo and chewbacca into their home, and tell me you don't spend your fractured waking hours plotting ways to do away with anything noah might have carried on his goddamn ark.
actually not really. i love animals. seriously. and i'm not a burgeoning psychopath or anything...i really just wanted to bitch about my fucking neighbors and how they're to blame for my lack of creativity. well that, and i'm out of coffee. and my soul hurts.
...and i'm lazy. fine. i'm a lazy, lazy fatass. and i'm also working on another blog with my boss, though she has yet to contribute. so um. yeah. fine i promise i'll update tonight.
and by update i mean think about things to write here. and by tonight i mean sometime. possibly. you know you love me. *air kisses*
actually not really. i love animals. seriously. and i'm not a burgeoning psychopath or anything...i really just wanted to bitch about my fucking neighbors and how they're to blame for my lack of creativity. well that, and i'm out of coffee. and my soul hurts.
...and i'm lazy. fine. i'm a lazy, lazy fatass. and i'm also working on another blog with my boss, though she has yet to contribute. so um. yeah. fine i promise i'll update tonight.
and by update i mean think about things to write here. and by tonight i mean sometime. possibly. you know you love me. *air kisses*
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
multiple O's with 1 in front of them (yes it was cheap and easy, of course i went for it) :: musical edition
i was originally going to start this final entry of 2007 with 'omg srsly wtf y'all, where did 2007 doth go?' but then i realized, holy shit- 2007 has been an epic year. i dunno about the rest of you, but this past collection of 365 days has been nothing short of extraordinary- not that anything earth shattering happened, mind you. i didn't grow up or grow a set, man up or branch out. nobody i know kicked it, a few got married and spawned, and some made offers on houses; we're growing up but not losing our dumb and young sensibilities.
truly, i'm not gonna lie guys. i've met some amazing people this year, gone through some batshit crazy transitions, and despite not trying or meaning to, have changed who i am as a person. but i know that as b, the snarktastic blogstress, you are expecting at least a modicum of bitchery and listings of 10, so i will keep the existential ponderings for my lj or myspace or what the fuck ever, because this particular entry of wordage and babble is about something we can all agree on, bc for the most part, we all have ears*:
music. say what you will, but 2007 was a fucking amazing year sonically. any set of 12 months that comes complete with reunions of rage against the machine *and* the spice girls, new albums from NIN and radiohead, the latter being released online only and for what *you* wish to pay out of your pretty pocket, and the complete sonic meltdowns despite musical bolsterings of amy winehouse and little miss b spears = awesome. and, okay. much to the obvs, i'm not gonna even start pretending to know everything or anything about music. i've dabbled with songwriting and slapdashery of microphone abuse, and at one point used to crave writing for the big guns at spin, relishing the thought of reviewing tunes for money. but no more. i realize it's totally subjective, and quite frankly, i'm fine with that. also, i love spin for giving me two free subscriptions this year with my coachella and vegoose tickets, but for fuck's sake, they are so pretentious that i really will only read it for free and for what it's worth, those concert tickets were so expensive anyway that 12 magazines is the least i could get out of it for free. also, stop making up band names. i swear, spin. you're just making shit up to make yourselves sound more awesome. cut it out. nobody cares.
um, right. this was at one point about my favorite music of the year. let's hop back to it. so, i did not hear arcade fire at coachella, or manage to find the aural time for spoon's 2007 offering. i loathe justin timberlake and couldn't give a damn about the motherfucking killers or she wants revenge. i'm not gonna lick rolling stone's bunghole and even pretend for a millionth of a second that my opinion matters or that i know what's up. my ears are unsophisticated and ragged, and truth be told i'd probably love a rollicking two-minute pop tune more than a seven-minute masterpiece by some rock legend everyone's worshiping post-cbgb destruction. blah blah blah. shut up. it's called taste because it's personal, not because it's forced. also, i'm slightly defensive. some find it charming.
anyway, here. have the first in a three-part entry, and stay tuned (or not, i know all the planet save for one or two of you is tuned out anyway) for the second and third entries coming before the year is out. hopefully. i mean, not that punctuality matters anyway. actually it might, considering one of my christmas gifts was an alarm clock, but, details. anyway, this collection is thusly and enigmatically entitled:
my ten favorite songs of the year, my ten favorite albums of the year, and my ten favorite musical moments of the year, because 2007 was awesome, and this is how i'm sending it out in style, bitches
first things first: ten awesome songs that own on their own, album or no album, and these are in no particular order, i'm too gd lazy for that sort of craziness:
(oh and ps, where available, youtubey goodness of videos and/or just plain songs have been provided, bc i'm nice to you bastards)
1. say --john mayer
(click this thingey to see the video, but mostly hear the song)
yeah. okay. fine. this pretty much outs me as a sentimental bastard, as much as i try to hide behind cursing, cheap tricks and asshattery. this song is just beautiful. it's strong and comforting, it's got a string section that turns me to jelly, and john mayer is not telling anybody that her body is a wonderland. it is four minutes so full of solid truthiness that i don't care if it treacles out at the end: say what you need to say. amen, whitey whiterson soul brother, amen.
2. sober --kelly clarkson
(le click for le song)
say what you will about miss clarkson (i'll go ahead and say it: 'my december' = not as good as it could have been. yeah i said it, you wanna fight?), but this song is perfection. maybe it's due to our inherent ability to see so much of humanity in the lyrics, or that my idiotic self can identify with a verse in some noble, fucked up way. maybe we like songs with repetetive choruses, however vigilant and strong they may be. whatever the case may be, this song is my top-played on itunes and it is with reason. it is stone and mortar resolve fashioned out of nothing but hope. call me crazy, but i love hanging on the wire like that. this song is just as it sounds: soft, but strong. scared, but dignified. sobriety optional. (though probably helpful, because i learned this year that hangovers suck balls.)
3. quiero --alejandra alberti
(click for musical goodness)
i have no idea who this girl is, or what the frick she's saying. she could be telling us all that the apocalypse is surely mounting, but she seems happy about it, so i'm sold. this breezy little thing was a free download on itunes sometime in the spring and oh my god, it's adorable. it's like the charmin puppy of free songs. wait. charmin uses bears, doesn't it? who uses that little puppy- cottonelle? oh who gives a flying fuckling- point is, this song is quirky happy spanish pop in a bottle three and a half minute bottle. try not to love it.
4. dignity --hilary duff
(press this thing if you want to hear the awesome.)
oh, the duffster. not gonna shit you guys, i love her. (in case you haven't figured it out in months prior, or even further up in this post, i have absolutely no shame. just making sure that's out there.) i have a not-so-secret adoration for her remixes, and i always take 'metamorphosis' with me when i go to the gym. (hahahahah. that makes it sound like i go to the gym. hee.) but 'dignity' is grown-into-her-veneers hilary. it. is. awesome. it's slick, bitchy, and so damn true. it's not news when you've got a new bag, and it's not news when somebody slaps you. eat it, lindsay/paris/britney/whoever. even if you don't dig on the duff, give this song a listen. it's a hilarious yet oh-so-true send-up of the obsessive tabloid era we live in. plus it is ever so danceable, and that's obviously the important part.
5. all my heroes are weirdos --!!! (chk chk chk)
(i dunno, my heroes are relatively well-balanced, but click here to judge for yourself.)
this song is the weirdest little hybrid i've ever met. it makes you want to mosh and headbang while at the same time making you wish you could just space out under the sky and stare at cloud shapes. it is quite possibly a shape-shifting amoeba of a song, with sparse lyrics and a drumbeat that hops all over the place, percussion-heavy and guitar-lite...but it's badass. there is no denying. don't hurt yourself, you've never heard of these guys (i only know of them via coachella and having no show to go to during the 4:00 hour so i settled and damn am i glad i did), but at least give this tune a whirl.
6. girlfriend --avril lavigne ft. lil' mama
(for the record, i covet the pink 'stang in this video. someone get it for me.)
oh come on, you knew i was gonna throw some avril into the mix here. and while the original version of this song is absolutely pitch-perfect pop, the remix is stellar in a box of super. it is a sonic equivalent of caffeinated schnapps, and by that i mean it is impossibly juvenile and non-threatening at first, and then completely spastic and wall-bouncing for the duration. lil' mama wins at raptastic rapid fire, and yanks control from little miss lavigne (well, i guess it's mrs now, but, whatever) for every verse (and if you're as whitey whiterson as i am, you totally know all the lyrics and can actually, uh, 'sing' along. remember what we talked about? no shame. that's right.) but the glory of the schoolyard stomp chorus and bridge belongs purely to the obnox canadian in an absolutely perfect remix adaptation type thingey. no, really. give it a whirl. you like it. i promise. and if not, too bad, you already listened and i won.
7. you give me something --james morrison
(you know you want to hear the fabulousness of soulful ambiguity.)
i know. what the shit am i doing with a love song in this little mix tape of sorts? well, fuck off. listen to the lyrics first of all- it is an *ambivolent* song about *potential* love. this is exactly the kind of song my heart would sing if it were capable of potentially adoring the crap out of somebody. it boils down to 'well, i can't quite guarantee you anything, but...uh...i kinda like you. i might love you. but don't push me. i'm scared. but don't run away goddammit.' plus, dude's voice is hot, and the horn section is gloriously sweeping. it's basically an epic love song for the undecided and emotionally withholding. and that is why it's on this list goddammit.
8. becoming insane --infected mushroom
(press here to become insane along with the rest of us)
this is quite honestly one of the best album-opening tracks i've ever heard. it's killer. it builds so perfectly, from eastern strings to backbeat to layer upon layer to vocals to smashing guitar to all hell breaking loose. it's a romping good time through the limbic system, y'all. i can't elaborate on it much more than that except to say it's infected goddamn mushroom, so why would it be anything less than awesome? exactly.
9. work that --mary j blige
(work it out ladies. or gentlemen. i don't discriminate.)
okay. try to overlook the fact that it was used in an itunes commercial, and ignore its inevitable fate as the new standard in 'makeover montage background jam' in any movie featuring anne hathaway or a sassy black lady- this song is just pure goodness. it's solid. it's not overly busy, but it's bouncy. it's strong with a 'be yourself' vibe but it's not saccharine crap. i mean, seriously guys. it's the blidge. she can do no wrong.
10. let me in --hot hot heat
(click for your final song, aren't you glad it's over? shut up, you love it.)
i could listen to this thing over and over. in case you haven't figured out that my ears are suckers for orchestral sections, strings, and big dramatic punch-up choruses, well, then you obviously don't know me and you make me feel insignificant and why do you have me when i show you NOTHING BUT LOVE. anyway, this is just a kickass rock pop song. that's all there is to it.
and that's that, so far as individual songs are concerned. clearly it's good i decided to avoid writing for music's sake. but like (insert bad analogy of someone repeating unfortunate behavior despite emotional, psychological, or societal ramifications that should totally convince them not to but it never does because hyoomans r dum) .... (i don't know either), i do it anyway.
*if you actually don't have ears, well, for crap's sake how i was supposed to know, i've never met you. stop assuming i can see your general cranial shape and appendages. that's just self-absorbed. good day to you.
truly, i'm not gonna lie guys. i've met some amazing people this year, gone through some batshit crazy transitions, and despite not trying or meaning to, have changed who i am as a person. but i know that as b, the snarktastic blogstress, you are expecting at least a modicum of bitchery and listings of 10, so i will keep the existential ponderings for my lj or myspace or what the fuck ever, because this particular entry of wordage and babble is about something we can all agree on, bc for the most part, we all have ears*:
music. say what you will, but 2007 was a fucking amazing year sonically. any set of 12 months that comes complete with reunions of rage against the machine *and* the spice girls, new albums from NIN and radiohead, the latter being released online only and for what *you* wish to pay out of your pretty pocket, and the complete sonic meltdowns despite musical bolsterings of amy winehouse and little miss b spears = awesome. and, okay. much to the obvs, i'm not gonna even start pretending to know everything or anything about music. i've dabbled with songwriting and slapdashery of microphone abuse, and at one point used to crave writing for the big guns at spin, relishing the thought of reviewing tunes for money. but no more. i realize it's totally subjective, and quite frankly, i'm fine with that. also, i love spin for giving me two free subscriptions this year with my coachella and vegoose tickets, but for fuck's sake, they are so pretentious that i really will only read it for free and for what it's worth, those concert tickets were so expensive anyway that 12 magazines is the least i could get out of it for free. also, stop making up band names. i swear, spin. you're just making shit up to make yourselves sound more awesome. cut it out. nobody cares.
um, right. this was at one point about my favorite music of the year. let's hop back to it. so, i did not hear arcade fire at coachella, or manage to find the aural time for spoon's 2007 offering. i loathe justin timberlake and couldn't give a damn about the motherfucking killers or she wants revenge. i'm not gonna lick rolling stone's bunghole and even pretend for a millionth of a second that my opinion matters or that i know what's up. my ears are unsophisticated and ragged, and truth be told i'd probably love a rollicking two-minute pop tune more than a seven-minute masterpiece by some rock legend everyone's worshiping post-cbgb destruction. blah blah blah. shut up. it's called taste because it's personal, not because it's forced. also, i'm slightly defensive. some find it charming.
anyway, here. have the first in a three-part entry, and stay tuned (or not, i know all the planet save for one or two of you is tuned out anyway) for the second and third entries coming before the year is out. hopefully. i mean, not that punctuality matters anyway. actually it might, considering one of my christmas gifts was an alarm clock, but, details. anyway, this collection is thusly and enigmatically entitled:
my ten favorite songs of the year, my ten favorite albums of the year, and my ten favorite musical moments of the year, because 2007 was awesome, and this is how i'm sending it out in style, bitches
first things first: ten awesome songs that own on their own, album or no album, and these are in no particular order, i'm too gd lazy for that sort of craziness:
(oh and ps, where available, youtubey goodness of videos and/or just plain songs have been provided, bc i'm nice to you bastards)
1. say --john mayer
(click this thingey to see the video, but mostly hear the song)
yeah. okay. fine. this pretty much outs me as a sentimental bastard, as much as i try to hide behind cursing, cheap tricks and asshattery. this song is just beautiful. it's strong and comforting, it's got a string section that turns me to jelly, and john mayer is not telling anybody that her body is a wonderland. it is four minutes so full of solid truthiness that i don't care if it treacles out at the end: say what you need to say. amen, whitey whiterson soul brother, amen.
2. sober --kelly clarkson
(le click for le song)
say what you will about miss clarkson (i'll go ahead and say it: 'my december' = not as good as it could have been. yeah i said it, you wanna fight?), but this song is perfection. maybe it's due to our inherent ability to see so much of humanity in the lyrics, or that my idiotic self can identify with a verse in some noble, fucked up way. maybe we like songs with repetetive choruses, however vigilant and strong they may be. whatever the case may be, this song is my top-played on itunes and it is with reason. it is stone and mortar resolve fashioned out of nothing but hope. call me crazy, but i love hanging on the wire like that. this song is just as it sounds: soft, but strong. scared, but dignified. sobriety optional. (though probably helpful, because i learned this year that hangovers suck balls.)
3. quiero --alejandra alberti
(click for musical goodness)
i have no idea who this girl is, or what the frick she's saying. she could be telling us all that the apocalypse is surely mounting, but she seems happy about it, so i'm sold. this breezy little thing was a free download on itunes sometime in the spring and oh my god, it's adorable. it's like the charmin puppy of free songs. wait. charmin uses bears, doesn't it? who uses that little puppy- cottonelle? oh who gives a flying fuckling- point is, this song is quirky happy spanish pop in a bottle three and a half minute bottle. try not to love it.
4. dignity --hilary duff
(press this thing if you want to hear the awesome.)
oh, the duffster. not gonna shit you guys, i love her. (in case you haven't figured it out in months prior, or even further up in this post, i have absolutely no shame. just making sure that's out there.) i have a not-so-secret adoration for her remixes, and i always take 'metamorphosis' with me when i go to the gym. (hahahahah. that makes it sound like i go to the gym. hee.) but 'dignity' is grown-into-her-veneers hilary. it. is. awesome. it's slick, bitchy, and so damn true. it's not news when you've got a new bag, and it's not news when somebody slaps you. eat it, lindsay/paris/britney/whoever. even if you don't dig on the duff, give this song a listen. it's a hilarious yet oh-so-true send-up of the obsessive tabloid era we live in. plus it is ever so danceable, and that's obviously the important part.
5. all my heroes are weirdos --!!! (chk chk chk)
(i dunno, my heroes are relatively well-balanced, but click here to judge for yourself.)
this song is the weirdest little hybrid i've ever met. it makes you want to mosh and headbang while at the same time making you wish you could just space out under the sky and stare at cloud shapes. it is quite possibly a shape-shifting amoeba of a song, with sparse lyrics and a drumbeat that hops all over the place, percussion-heavy and guitar-lite...but it's badass. there is no denying. don't hurt yourself, you've never heard of these guys (i only know of them via coachella and having no show to go to during the 4:00 hour so i settled and damn am i glad i did), but at least give this tune a whirl.
6. girlfriend --avril lavigne ft. lil' mama
(for the record, i covet the pink 'stang in this video. someone get it for me.)
oh come on, you knew i was gonna throw some avril into the mix here. and while the original version of this song is absolutely pitch-perfect pop, the remix is stellar in a box of super. it is a sonic equivalent of caffeinated schnapps, and by that i mean it is impossibly juvenile and non-threatening at first, and then completely spastic and wall-bouncing for the duration. lil' mama wins at raptastic rapid fire, and yanks control from little miss lavigne (well, i guess it's mrs now, but, whatever) for every verse (and if you're as whitey whiterson as i am, you totally know all the lyrics and can actually, uh, 'sing' along. remember what we talked about? no shame. that's right.) but the glory of the schoolyard stomp chorus and bridge belongs purely to the obnox canadian in an absolutely perfect remix adaptation type thingey. no, really. give it a whirl. you like it. i promise. and if not, too bad, you already listened and i won.
7. you give me something --james morrison
(you know you want to hear the fabulousness of soulful ambiguity.)
i know. what the shit am i doing with a love song in this little mix tape of sorts? well, fuck off. listen to the lyrics first of all- it is an *ambivolent* song about *potential* love. this is exactly the kind of song my heart would sing if it were capable of potentially adoring the crap out of somebody. it boils down to 'well, i can't quite guarantee you anything, but...uh...i kinda like you. i might love you. but don't push me. i'm scared. but don't run away goddammit.' plus, dude's voice is hot, and the horn section is gloriously sweeping. it's basically an epic love song for the undecided and emotionally withholding. and that is why it's on this list goddammit.
8. becoming insane --infected mushroom
(press here to become insane along with the rest of us)
this is quite honestly one of the best album-opening tracks i've ever heard. it's killer. it builds so perfectly, from eastern strings to backbeat to layer upon layer to vocals to smashing guitar to all hell breaking loose. it's a romping good time through the limbic system, y'all. i can't elaborate on it much more than that except to say it's infected goddamn mushroom, so why would it be anything less than awesome? exactly.
9. work that --mary j blige
(work it out ladies. or gentlemen. i don't discriminate.)
okay. try to overlook the fact that it was used in an itunes commercial, and ignore its inevitable fate as the new standard in 'makeover montage background jam' in any movie featuring anne hathaway or a sassy black lady- this song is just pure goodness. it's solid. it's not overly busy, but it's bouncy. it's strong with a 'be yourself' vibe but it's not saccharine crap. i mean, seriously guys. it's the blidge. she can do no wrong.
10. let me in --hot hot heat
(click for your final song, aren't you glad it's over? shut up, you love it.)
i could listen to this thing over and over. in case you haven't figured out that my ears are suckers for orchestral sections, strings, and big dramatic punch-up choruses, well, then you obviously don't know me and you make me feel insignificant and why do you have me when i show you NOTHING BUT LOVE. anyway, this is just a kickass rock pop song. that's all there is to it.
and that's that, so far as individual songs are concerned. clearly it's good i decided to avoid writing for music's sake. but like (insert bad analogy of someone repeating unfortunate behavior despite emotional, psychological, or societal ramifications that should totally convince them not to but it never does because hyoomans r dum) .... (i don't know either), i do it anyway.
*if you actually don't have ears, well, for crap's sake how i was supposed to know, i've never met you. stop assuming i can see your general cranial shape and appendages. that's just self-absorbed. good day to you.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
10 really unfortunate names
in the anonymous position i work dutifully for an unnamed employer that does nothing interesting whatsoever, there are occasionally things worth mentioning that crop up from time to time. most of my shennanigans do not make the cut, such as pratfalls, jokes about disco pants and burritos, and the really hot guy who doesn't even know my name. but today, my friends, it's time to show you ten of the things that do warrant an interwebby shout-out:
baaaaad names.
that's right. those of you who know me eye are elle (irl, duh.) know that i glee from an unfortunate namings. it's just...i mean...why? why would you saddle a child with a moxie crimefighter, audio science, or blanket, when you could just name them, well, anything that is not moxie crimefigher, audio science or blanket? well, the mothers of these poor saps must have had the epidurals inserted into their brain stem instead of spinal cord, and the fathers perhaps drunk off one too many 'it's a boy!' congratulatory beers from the guys at work. i cannot fathom any other reason for these monikers. it has rendered me quite baffled.
anyway, in my day-to-day job as a regular person with a regular job, i file a lot of paperwork for a lot of people. (no really, a lot. we got 7,000 pieces of it in the mail on monday alone.) after four months working the grind, i've come up with a list of my ten favorite suckers, whom i will judge purely based upon their name. behold:
ten names that would have me saving up my birthday money since, well, birth, so that i could go down to the courthouse and pony up the $180 to legally change my name once i hit 18, because for fuck's sake, these are not names, they are embarassments, or if i'm marrying into the name, would make me basically *not* marry into it because, just, no. i love you, dearest, but let's create a new name from a random draw of the scrabble tiles, be serious:
1. so-and-so tidd-lard
wait. what? having a bizarre first last name wasn't enough, so you doubled-up and went with 'lard'? holy shit. y'all, i think we have the new definitions of both 'true love' and 'masochism.' i didn't even know you could be *named* after a fat, but, shows what i know. you know what i want? i want a bacon-lard union. or maybe lemon-lard, because that's just culinarily amusing. or maybe burger-lard. oh, the possibilities are endless, and yes, i'm going to think of many of them. my job is boring, you see.
2. such-and-such verewolf-butkiss
wait- how are EITHER of these names? verewolf? really? should i be wary of you at full moons? and should i be wary of your significant other, who clearly sucks up to anybody who'll give out a free lunch? wow, it's a miracle that you two lived past junior high school, what with the teasing. it's also probably just kismet that you found each other and will probably birth many a lupine, butt-kissing baby. this is the glory of marriage folks. entertainment for us.
3. long phat dong
alright, i'm cheating with this one, as it was the find of my boss, but, um. okay. thank you, korea, for your names that just don't translate over here in the us of a. thank you so very, very much.
4. joy loser and randy winner
these people aren't married and probably don't even know each other, but i grouped them as a twofer because i filed their paperwork one right after the other, and thought that they would make the most darling couple, who could get a kicky little house in the country and call it 'happy medium estates.'
5. zsa-zsa cherry
believe it or not, her occupation was listed as a teller, and not a stripper or palm-reader.
6. stephen outhouse
do you think he draws that little half-moon outhouse symbol next to his signature? i mean, i totally would. you've gotta be preemptive with that kind of unfortunate luck. make fun of it first, or everybody is totally gonna own you. and then you'll have no self esteem due to the constant mockery, you'll bottom out, fail your classes, get a crap job, and lo, you will actually *be* cleaning toilets. and nobody wants that, except for perhaps the creators of the rejected characters parade that conan does every now and again.
7. cynamon hellpap
this is, apparently, the buxom, take-no-prisoners villain of a gynecological horror/thriller. i could make an 'open everywhere' and/or 'wide release' joke but quite frankly that's a little too low-brow even for me. oops, i did it anyway.
8. james demon thomas
clearly this kid's otherwise sane mother was in labor with him for approximately two months.
9. the malaise law firm
i don't know about you guys, but i'm taking my business to the feeling-slightly-better-about-it firm across the street. dunno why. i just have a feeling, here.
10. the lynch-belch law firm
okay fuck it. i sat here for like 10 minutes trying to think of a different way to explain why this is funny, and then i realized well jeez, i'm dumb. pure comedy speaks for itself. the end.
now be thankful your name is normal and shut up. and bring me a cookie.
baaaaad names.
that's right. those of you who know me eye are elle (irl, duh.) know that i glee from an unfortunate namings. it's just...i mean...why? why would you saddle a child with a moxie crimefighter, audio science, or blanket, when you could just name them, well, anything that is not moxie crimefigher, audio science or blanket? well, the mothers of these poor saps must have had the epidurals inserted into their brain stem instead of spinal cord, and the fathers perhaps drunk off one too many 'it's a boy!' congratulatory beers from the guys at work. i cannot fathom any other reason for these monikers. it has rendered me quite baffled.
anyway, in my day-to-day job as a regular person with a regular job, i file a lot of paperwork for a lot of people. (no really, a lot. we got 7,000 pieces of it in the mail on monday alone.) after four months working the grind, i've come up with a list of my ten favorite suckers, whom i will judge purely based upon their name. behold:
ten names that would have me saving up my birthday money since, well, birth, so that i could go down to the courthouse and pony up the $180 to legally change my name once i hit 18, because for fuck's sake, these are not names, they are embarassments, or if i'm marrying into the name, would make me basically *not* marry into it because, just, no. i love you, dearest, but let's create a new name from a random draw of the scrabble tiles, be serious:
1. so-and-so tidd-lard
wait. what? having a bizarre first last name wasn't enough, so you doubled-up and went with 'lard'? holy shit. y'all, i think we have the new definitions of both 'true love' and 'masochism.' i didn't even know you could be *named* after a fat, but, shows what i know. you know what i want? i want a bacon-lard union. or maybe lemon-lard, because that's just culinarily amusing. or maybe burger-lard. oh, the possibilities are endless, and yes, i'm going to think of many of them. my job is boring, you see.
2. such-and-such verewolf-butkiss
wait- how are EITHER of these names? verewolf? really? should i be wary of you at full moons? and should i be wary of your significant other, who clearly sucks up to anybody who'll give out a free lunch? wow, it's a miracle that you two lived past junior high school, what with the teasing. it's also probably just kismet that you found each other and will probably birth many a lupine, butt-kissing baby. this is the glory of marriage folks. entertainment for us.
3. long phat dong
alright, i'm cheating with this one, as it was the find of my boss, but, um. okay. thank you, korea, for your names that just don't translate over here in the us of a. thank you so very, very much.
4. joy loser and randy winner
these people aren't married and probably don't even know each other, but i grouped them as a twofer because i filed their paperwork one right after the other, and thought that they would make the most darling couple, who could get a kicky little house in the country and call it 'happy medium estates.'
5. zsa-zsa cherry
believe it or not, her occupation was listed as a teller, and not a stripper or palm-reader.
6. stephen outhouse
do you think he draws that little half-moon outhouse symbol next to his signature? i mean, i totally would. you've gotta be preemptive with that kind of unfortunate luck. make fun of it first, or everybody is totally gonna own you. and then you'll have no self esteem due to the constant mockery, you'll bottom out, fail your classes, get a crap job, and lo, you will actually *be* cleaning toilets. and nobody wants that, except for perhaps the creators of the rejected characters parade that conan does every now and again.
7. cynamon hellpap
this is, apparently, the buxom, take-no-prisoners villain of a gynecological horror/thriller. i could make an 'open everywhere' and/or 'wide release' joke but quite frankly that's a little too low-brow even for me. oops, i did it anyway.
8. james demon thomas
clearly this kid's otherwise sane mother was in labor with him for approximately two months.
9. the malaise law firm
i don't know about you guys, but i'm taking my business to the feeling-slightly-better-about-it firm across the street. dunno why. i just have a feeling, here.
10. the lynch-belch law firm
okay fuck it. i sat here for like 10 minutes trying to think of a different way to explain why this is funny, and then i realized well jeez, i'm dumb. pure comedy speaks for itself. the end.
now be thankful your name is normal and shut up. and bring me a cookie.
Monday, November 26, 2007
ten things this blogblob is apparently good for
supremely awesome friend: i wish *I* could write a blog people would want to read
supremely awesome friend: but i don't rock like you
yours truly: LOL, no no
yours truly: nobody wants to read it
yours truly: they hit my page, realize it's not full of minihorse porn
yours truly: and leave
supremely awesome friend: hahahahahahahaha
so i'm not gonna lie, i totally have one of those stat-counter things planted on this here blog thingey. i use it mainly to see if i'm getting any action; apparently people in south africa land here on a semi-regular basis and occasionally someone in my hometown drops by. other than that, i'm quite safe in shooting my mouth off in this little corner of the interwebs, because as a general rule, about 3 people visit this thing a day, and that's if i'm having wicked high traffic. (yes i said wicked. what. i'm an eventual new england girl, shut up.)
anyway, curiosity got the better of me and i thought to myself, 'self? why don't you see *what* exactly is bringing the people from cape town to your writing? why are the good people of kansas occasionally checking in? and for the love of crap, how come you get so many visitors at 3 am?'
the answer, my friends, is not blowing in the wind. nay, it is in search engines that we must look. and so look i did. and HAH. my blog basically rules. i took a look at the search engine queries list that my statcounter provides; i can spy on you visitors based on location, based on length of stay, or my favorite, what link brought you here. nine times out of ten it's a myspace bulletin i posted or a link from another blog, but occasionally it's a nugget of hilarity from the search boxes of google, yahoo, and dogpile.com-- for here i give you, because i'm lazy and this is a short entry because i really want to go watch some netflix:
10 seriously awesome search engine queries that have resulted in errant visits to my blog
1. gay urethra wand
okay. my question here is twofold:
a) what the shining hell is a urethra wand?
b) what makes a urethra wand 'gay'?
now, i know from catheters and scopes, believe me. i've spent my fair share of time dealing with crackpot urologists and their shiny, scary instruments (yes, i am a girl. no, we do not like going to the piss doctor.) but never have i ever wondered about the sexual proclivities of said tools of the trade. i wonder if this fine visitor thought perhaps, because of my bisexuality and my IC (look it up, i'm not explaining it) that i'd know what makes a urethra wand and also what makes one gay, but, no dice, gentle reader. no dice at all.
2. reasons why you can't live in the desert
fun fact: if you throw that exact search into google, my blog comes up as the first result. clearly my work on the internet is done.
3. bitch i will cut you
with a gay urethra wand, i will. i swear it!
4. well that's just shittastic
shittastic, for those of you not in the know of the tastic family tree, is the misbegotten cousin of fantastic and the stepson of craptacular. he's a bit rough around the edges, but all he needs is a little love. unfortunately i don't think you'll find that shit in this here blog. moving on.
5. what household item can i shove up my rectum
um. well jeez. i never thought i'd be dr ruth. i'm severely unprepared for this question, but i'll give it a go: if you don't think you could handle putting it in other, uh, orifices, then don't put it in your butt. just sayin.
6. texas rectum murder alcohol
oh that's right. not one, but two search results of 'rectum' yield this little blogspot. have i even used the word 'rectum' in here? i may have, who knows. it might have been during a rage blackout, thank you very for the tip summer roberts. anyway, what's awesome about this particular query is that it explains just what i'd love to do to texas if it were in fact corporial. if texas were in and of itself a gigantic, swaggering cowboy praising jebus and lassooing a cow, i probably would enjoy the hell out of imbibing some alcohol and murdering it somehow through the rectum. why? because driving through texas is two days of nothing, that's why. also, because every boy i've ever met from texas has been insufferable in his own special way. don't get me wrong, i adore some of them, but for fuckin real folks, shut up. if you love texas so much, go have a gay marriage with it and have its lonestar babies. oh wait, texas wouldn't allow that. shut up, texas. also, your chickenfried steak was not very exciting.
7. fuckling
probably the bastard offspring of an asshat and a douchebag, no? i wonder what a litter of fucklings would look like. probably very cute, but very swear-inducing. i bet they crap bitchery all over the carpet.
8. stickybear bop apple rom
yessssss. memories of childhood. i'm telling you, stickybear bop owned all, even if i never could get far enough into the game to feel satisfied before some other dipshit kid at daycare was jonesing for a spot at the coveted computer. oh, sharing. i did not learn you thoroughly in kindergarten. though why anybody found my blog searching for that relic of daycare is beyond me.
9. things you do when your [sic] insane
craptacular spelling aside (obviously this fine visitor and diligent information-seeking surfer of ye olde net did not stumble upon a couple of my previous entries), i feel honored to be the end result of a quest for things to pass the time when you've gone coocoopants or nutterbutter. actually i *should* do that list next. seriously. i'm thinking, 'ten things to do when you want to convince the world you've gone or just want to at least pretend you've gone and tumbled headfirst into a land of padded walls and hug-me jackets.' given that's what i have as my tag line up top there, i suppose it was overdue. thank you, fine purveyor of ask.com, for resting on your laurels, or my laurels, or whatever it is that kids are doing with laurels these days, and snapping me to attention. truly, you have a place in my heart. now just learn how to fucking spell.
10. i accidentally took a decongestant with alcohol
well it's not all bad, really. think of it as a vodka with red bull, but instead of merely keeping you awake all night, your sinuses will be blissfully free of clogging, while your brain will be delightfully foggy. it is perhaps the best state to exist in. i'm so glad i'm not the only person to have discovered this chemical combination, but i am worried, dear reader. 'accidentally' implies that you did not mean to enjoy said chemicals. to which i say, pish posh. embrace it. enjoy it. then probably don't drink anything alcoholic or take an advil for a week. also, you'll wanna drink some water. like woah.
and that's that. of course, honorable mention goes to 'girls smashing testicles', 'minihorses' and 'joey travolta'. obviously human curiosity is the gift that keeps on hilariously giving. also? i must admit, i'm intrigued by the fact that i can post video to this thing. because occasionally i'm lazy and don't feel like typing so much as blabbering, i'm tossing a little bouncey ball of an idea around my cerebral cortex and pondering doing a video list next. thing is, i must remain anon and an enigma (unless you know me, which is 90% of you, but for the sake of remaining a myyyyystery, i shalt not be revealed), so i need something quite visual to do for a list. ten most amusing sights of this godforsaken town i live in? ten things i'm not sure deserve their tenure in my closet? ten tchochkes i totally heart? i draw ten pictures based on your requests? i dunno. my brain is dying here folks. hence, i request you leave a comment with an idea or two. why? because i said so, that's why. also, because you, you're awesome.
so is chuck, which is on right now, so i'm gonna go rot my brain for awhile courtesy of nbc. i'm out, y'all.
supremely awesome friend: but i don't rock like you
yours truly: LOL, no no
yours truly: nobody wants to read it
yours truly: they hit my page, realize it's not full of minihorse porn
yours truly: and leave
supremely awesome friend: hahahahahahahaha
so i'm not gonna lie, i totally have one of those stat-counter things planted on this here blog thingey. i use it mainly to see if i'm getting any action; apparently people in south africa land here on a semi-regular basis and occasionally someone in my hometown drops by. other than that, i'm quite safe in shooting my mouth off in this little corner of the interwebs, because as a general rule, about 3 people visit this thing a day, and that's if i'm having wicked high traffic. (yes i said wicked. what. i'm an eventual new england girl, shut up.)
anyway, curiosity got the better of me and i thought to myself, 'self? why don't you see *what* exactly is bringing the people from cape town to your writing? why are the good people of kansas occasionally checking in? and for the love of crap, how come you get so many visitors at 3 am?'
the answer, my friends, is not blowing in the wind. nay, it is in search engines that we must look. and so look i did. and HAH. my blog basically rules. i took a look at the search engine queries list that my statcounter provides; i can spy on you visitors based on location, based on length of stay, or my favorite, what link brought you here. nine times out of ten it's a myspace bulletin i posted or a link from another blog, but occasionally it's a nugget of hilarity from the search boxes of google, yahoo, and dogpile.com-- for here i give you, because i'm lazy and this is a short entry because i really want to go watch some netflix:
10 seriously awesome search engine queries that have resulted in errant visits to my blog
1. gay urethra wand
okay. my question here is twofold:
a) what the shining hell is a urethra wand?
b) what makes a urethra wand 'gay'?
now, i know from catheters and scopes, believe me. i've spent my fair share of time dealing with crackpot urologists and their shiny, scary instruments (yes, i am a girl. no, we do not like going to the piss doctor.) but never have i ever wondered about the sexual proclivities of said tools of the trade. i wonder if this fine visitor thought perhaps, because of my bisexuality and my IC (look it up, i'm not explaining it) that i'd know what makes a urethra wand and also what makes one gay, but, no dice, gentle reader. no dice at all.
2. reasons why you can't live in the desert
fun fact: if you throw that exact search into google, my blog comes up as the first result. clearly my work on the internet is done.
3. bitch i will cut you
with a gay urethra wand, i will. i swear it!
4. well that's just shittastic
shittastic, for those of you not in the know of the tastic family tree, is the misbegotten cousin of fantastic and the stepson of craptacular. he's a bit rough around the edges, but all he needs is a little love. unfortunately i don't think you'll find that shit in this here blog. moving on.
5. what household item can i shove up my rectum
um. well jeez. i never thought i'd be dr ruth. i'm severely unprepared for this question, but i'll give it a go: if you don't think you could handle putting it in other, uh, orifices, then don't put it in your butt. just sayin.
6. texas rectum murder alcohol
oh that's right. not one, but two search results of 'rectum' yield this little blogspot. have i even used the word 'rectum' in here? i may have, who knows. it might have been during a rage blackout, thank you very for the tip summer roberts. anyway, what's awesome about this particular query is that it explains just what i'd love to do to texas if it were in fact corporial. if texas were in and of itself a gigantic, swaggering cowboy praising jebus and lassooing a cow, i probably would enjoy the hell out of imbibing some alcohol and murdering it somehow through the rectum. why? because driving through texas is two days of nothing, that's why. also, because every boy i've ever met from texas has been insufferable in his own special way. don't get me wrong, i adore some of them, but for fuckin real folks, shut up. if you love texas so much, go have a gay marriage with it and have its lonestar babies. oh wait, texas wouldn't allow that. shut up, texas. also, your chickenfried steak was not very exciting.
7. fuckling
probably the bastard offspring of an asshat and a douchebag, no? i wonder what a litter of fucklings would look like. probably very cute, but very swear-inducing. i bet they crap bitchery all over the carpet.
8. stickybear bop apple rom
yessssss. memories of childhood. i'm telling you, stickybear bop owned all, even if i never could get far enough into the game to feel satisfied before some other dipshit kid at daycare was jonesing for a spot at the coveted computer. oh, sharing. i did not learn you thoroughly in kindergarten. though why anybody found my blog searching for that relic of daycare is beyond me.
9. things you do when your [sic] insane
craptacular spelling aside (obviously this fine visitor and diligent information-seeking surfer of ye olde net did not stumble upon a couple of my previous entries), i feel honored to be the end result of a quest for things to pass the time when you've gone coocoopants or nutterbutter. actually i *should* do that list next. seriously. i'm thinking, 'ten things to do when you want to convince the world you've gone or just want to at least pretend you've gone and tumbled headfirst into a land of padded walls and hug-me jackets.' given that's what i have as my tag line up top there, i suppose it was overdue. thank you, fine purveyor of ask.com, for resting on your laurels, or my laurels, or whatever it is that kids are doing with laurels these days, and snapping me to attention. truly, you have a place in my heart. now just learn how to fucking spell.
10. i accidentally took a decongestant with alcohol
well it's not all bad, really. think of it as a vodka with red bull, but instead of merely keeping you awake all night, your sinuses will be blissfully free of clogging, while your brain will be delightfully foggy. it is perhaps the best state to exist in. i'm so glad i'm not the only person to have discovered this chemical combination, but i am worried, dear reader. 'accidentally' implies that you did not mean to enjoy said chemicals. to which i say, pish posh. embrace it. enjoy it. then probably don't drink anything alcoholic or take an advil for a week. also, you'll wanna drink some water. like woah.
and that's that. of course, honorable mention goes to 'girls smashing testicles', 'minihorses' and 'joey travolta'. obviously human curiosity is the gift that keeps on hilariously giving. also? i must admit, i'm intrigued by the fact that i can post video to this thing. because occasionally i'm lazy and don't feel like typing so much as blabbering, i'm tossing a little bouncey ball of an idea around my cerebral cortex and pondering doing a video list next. thing is, i must remain anon and an enigma (unless you know me, which is 90% of you, but for the sake of remaining a myyyyystery, i shalt not be revealed), so i need something quite visual to do for a list. ten most amusing sights of this godforsaken town i live in? ten things i'm not sure deserve their tenure in my closet? ten tchochkes i totally heart? i draw ten pictures based on your requests? i dunno. my brain is dying here folks. hence, i request you leave a comment with an idea or two. why? because i said so, that's why. also, because you, you're awesome.
so is chuck, which is on right now, so i'm gonna go rot my brain for awhile courtesy of nbc. i'm out, y'all.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
ten things that have popped into my head lately
okay guys. i have a confession that isn't really a confession to make: i have a super-obnox case of ADD. (i had it *before* it was cool, thanks.) most of you who know me enough know this already, but i thought i'd throw it out there into the blogosphere anyway, and i will add that yes, it is legitimate (my GPA makes a handy-dandy bell curve chart based upon whether or not i'm medicated with those little pumpkin-colored triangles of poor man's speed), but i try to ride with it. some folks use it as a crutch, i use it as a surfboard. in other words: some people limp along and bitch about it, i choose to be optimistic, throw myself on it, ride the wave and glee 'weeeeeeeeeee!' before a wave curls over my head, i wind up pummeled into the sand-soaked ocean floor and totally gasp for air before bitching, 'frick, i hate surfing.' but it's charming and fun anyway. at any rate, it's why you all love me, if only because i make the rest of you feel normal by comparison, or that you can say 'strawberry' and it will lead us on a tangentastic conversation about ice cream, perfume, serial killers and yodeling.
so, for better or worse, my mind tends to not pay any attention at all to you or your stories or your commands if you happen to be my boss (this *could* explain why i got fired that one time but i like to pretend it's because the dude was 4'9" if he was an inch and i'm 5'10" and i threatened him with my very existence. also, he looked like a monkey. also, this was a pet store, so i know from animal faces, y'all), and as i was saying before i interrupted myself, like, way to fuckin go, me, i really can't take the time to listen to you. sorry. it's not that i don't want to, it's that i can't. or is it that i don't can't won't not but...wait...what the fuck? the hilarity of this is i'm totally sober while dribbling this refuse from keyboard into blogger box, so, i guess y'all are just that lucky.
anyway, what happens while i'm busy not being able to or not wanting to or won't notting or whatevering in the paying attention department, is wishing i could get proper health insurance so i could get me some ADD meds again. for real. also, though, my brain is just having little synapse blots left and right and wondering about this that and the other existential (or non) thing. i'm sure you know what i'm talking about. you're in a meeting and someone in a suit that looks like it was fashioned out of cotton that interbred with blue playdoh is all 'blah blah blah rate structure blah blah plans are not sufficient for unsecured creditors blah blah donuts in break room' and you're all 'mmm, donuts...my stomach commands i feed it some glorious boston cream chocolate sugary goo-- wait...did i feed my hamsters this morning? shit. they're going to die from malnutrition and here i am, fat and happy with nutrients. i suck. i am the worst pet owner EVER. maybe *this* is why i got fired from the pet store. nah. it was totally bc the dude was a monkey. a short monkey. for real, what's with short men? why they gotta be all napoleon? napoleon. OH MY GOD, you know what would go SO WELL with those donuts in the break room? NEOPOLITAN ICE CREAM! and i know that's totally not 'napoleon' ice cream but you try telling me you haven't ever made that linguistic leap. omfg linguistic leap-- dude, that sounds like a new hero for nbc to try out mid-series. 'he could learn whole languages in a single bound! communication will never be a problem for...lingua frank!' but frank isn't really a good hero name. it's too...well...it sounds like a hot dog. mmm. hot dog. see, this is why i'm a fatass. i have a donut and yet i also want ice cream and a damn hot dog. AND I'M A VEGETARIAN. because i love the animals. which doesn't explain why i'm accidentally starving my hamsters. oh frick on a stick i was supposed to be taking notes. maybe if i just nod and look like i'm taking it all into my head and not my notebook they won't fire me like the pygmy chimp bossman from petland. dammit. i'm out of coffee. and clearly i need a donut to go with it.'
for real. i'm not lying. this is not entirely unalike what was going through my head between the hours of 10:15-ish and 10:17-oclockness a few days ago, though hell if i was actually keeping track. the beauty of this retard-o-sphere that i call my brain, though (awesomely enough, the firefox on-screen spell check does not have a problem with the phrase 'retard-o-sphere', leading me to believe in its utter validity) is that it totally gives me filler for this blog when i neglect it so sorely. because for real, i'm averaging, what- a few paragraphs every couple months? for a writer, i suck ungodly amounts of suck. (______) (that right there is the space i left for you to insert your own 'suck' joke. it's like choose your own insulting adventure.)
anyway, i'm bored and need something to do because quite fucking frankly i'm not in the mood to watch a movie and snark at continuity errors or read or do anything halfway amusing. i've got lyrics i could work on, or books i could read, netflix to watch and a house to clean but f that s, i'm just gonna jot down a few of the brain rumblings that polluted my occipital lobe this week instead. and because i love and hate you all at the same time, i leave them here for you to read if you are just as le bored as i am.
ten things that slipped between the frootloopy cracks of my brain while i probably should have been paying attention to the shit i was scanning and filing, bc for real, the paralegals are going to eat me alive if they get another chapter 7 in their chapter 13 box, but omgsrsly4real i'm a newbie and i claim immunity:
1. yes, the writers' strike is necessary. 110%.
but if it in any way fucks with my ability to see the scrubs series finale, i am not kidding, i will probably suffer an aneurism and bleed out through my nose and cry into my porridge and curse the world. if one has time to do that after their brain short circuits, anyway. also, i have no idea why there was porridge in that sentiment. perhaps the brain malfunctioning has already begun. in short: give the writers their 2.5%, because without them there is no show, and also, i don't want to find pieces of my brain in the breakfast cereal. the end.
2. upon the thoughts of three religions in one department somehow managing to coexist without murdering each other but not without stealing each others paltry shit or possibly coveting mp3 players, you really could shorten the 10 commandments into 'don't do anything i wouldn't do.', and bonus: 'the commandment' just sounds so much cooler and easier to follow, y/y?
for real. george carlin backs me up on this (oh, okay, so my spellcheck protests carlin, but doesn't protest retard-o-sphere? i'm not sure what i believe anymore)- you really could pare down the commandments if you wanted to make managing your mortal soul's eternal salvation more manageable. and no i'm not religious and don't even pretend to be but i got A's in every religion class i ever took, so shut up.
aaaaaaanyway, so basically the thing is this: sir godly mcdemandsalot is all 'don't do these TEN THINGS! others we'll talk about, because i guess i never specifically called out little altar-boy sodomy and/or blowing up abortion clinics in my edicts, so, my bad. oh dear me, i made a bad. according to kevin smith and alanis morissette in a tutu, universe goes splodey right...about...now. but it doesn't because kevin smith made 'jersey girl', proof that even the greatest fuck up. that's right, god gets a mulligan. awww yeah.'
so basically back to the original point of this drivel- i'm looking at this list of ye olde commandments in a handy set of 10 and well, i think mainly what dude (or dudette, bc really, as others far more comedically inclined as yours truly have pointed out, god may just be a chick bc who else has that kind of interior *and* exterior decorating skills? no straight man, at any rate.) was trying to say was this:
"so i totes don't wanna brag, for realsies, but oh my gosh, you guys. for real? i am most probably totally perfect. i honestly, truly can't help that sunshine and rainbows spew out of my ass and butterflies and starlight vomit from my mouth and that i can take and give life in a snap, oh and have you *tried* sunday school? divine! in case you're a terrible horrible godless heathen, though, check it:
coveting its bad, m'kay?
killing is bad, m'kay?
stealing, lying, cheating, all that crap- it's bad, m'kay?
also, i'd appreciate you not worshipping anybody else other than me. i'm wicked insecure and kind of new at this edict stuff, so, yeah. just obey me and everything will be chill, we cool?
and finally, oh my me, SERIOUSLY, anything you think might be remotely bad? IT'S BAD.
so, to sum up: don't do anything i wouldn't do! this does not include, however, raining frogs and flooding things. or creating the platypus. so feel free to wreak global warming havoc and play mad scientist. clearly the 11th commandment was to get rid of al gore."
man, god is a prick. but i can't fault the guy, cause, well, he likes the things in lists of 10.
3. fat cells have too many friends
okay seriously. have you ever noticed that when you glee and break out the self-congratulatory squeals for losing 10 or 15 or howevermany pounds because honestly 10 is but a drop in the vast ocean that is the gelatinous mass of america's thighs (my own included), that if you don't keep a tight lockdown on that shit it comes roaring back with twice as many friends? for freaking real, people. lookit- unless you spend the unnecessary dollars on atkins cereal bars or the south beach frozen meals or whatever cockamamey fad diet is in these days, and/or spend every waking moment at the gym or thinking about going to the gym or berating yourself for not going to the gym, those pounds just come back. and not only do they come back, they come back with some added squish to make you feel all the more ridiculous trying to fit into your skinny jeans. (which, btw, we should all stop doing, bc not even twiggy supermodels can make straight-leg jeans look good. for real. just, no.)
so why this fat phenomenon? because your fat cells are not meant to be loners. they need friends and family and loved ones. they are the most extroverted body part ever conceived by whatever created the human anatomy and they can't survive on their own. if you try to get rid of them, they will pull themselves up by the fatstraps and multiply. if they can't multiply, they call their friends to come over for a fritos-n-margs party. if they can't do *that*, then they cry and their tears turn into new fat cells. seriously. THEY HAVE TOO MANY FRIENDS. your ass will never be lonely, because it's like the freakin spider club for lipids. your stomach? it's the freakin fat cell south beach. upper arms? forget about it, it's fatty tissue U where everybody drinks, hooks up, pukes, and then procreates.
and you know it's true, too. so the next time you realize your fat cells are costing you friends because the world is judgemental even though it shouldn't be because, holy frick, how many of us are fat now, for real, just remember this- your body has its own myspace, and it's multiplying every time you eat a donut.
4. people can get away with anything on the road if they have a good bumper sticker.
alright folks, you can't tell me you haven't witnessed this firsthand. you know how it goes down. you're minding your own beeswax, business, bidness, crap, whatever it is you mind while you should be minding the rules of the road but you're totally fiddling with the radio dial instead, when from out of NOWHERE, a rogue suv busts out of the right lane, cuts you off like it's a pair of scissors and the road is its asphalt ribbon, and speeds through the light before you get the chance, leaving you crammed in the intersection in a cacophony of honking horns and tire squeals. and yet? you're so not mad. why? because that suv, that honking, gas guzzling excuse for a vehicle that nobody needs unless they are perhaps toting the detroit lions to and from a game, totally had a bumper sticker on it that said "say NO to proposition 104!"
omg, you DID say no! holy frick! it's like you're ideological, political soulmates! so what's a little bit of tire shred and engine grind to make sure you don't collide? that car's got *morals*, man. conversely, a cute little vw bug could give you the courtesy wave and let you out of a supercrowded parking lot onto a main drag to hang a left onto an even more crowded yellow-lined artery through town, and before you can give the wave back, you notice this blight on the front bumper:
"W in 04!"
enough said. sure, cute car with a nice person did something good semaritainly, but now you're totally struggling not to say 'GODDAMN YOU! if i lose the rights for my uterus, IT'S ON YOUR UNEDUCATED HEAD, YOU JACKASS!' as you're totally cruising down the street because of their charity of lane space.
what the hell is this driving etiquette cockery? the world may never know, but to be safe from asshattery of a judgemental and vehicular degree, you should probably just cover your bumpers and trunk and hubcaps if you so choose with stickers for everything. every band, every political affiliation, local cause, national cause, awarness ribbon, honor rolls at all the local schools, snarky rebuttals about how your kid beat up the honor roll kid, and carefully placed shout-outs to icanhascheezeburger and homestar runner can cover your rear windshield. on your back bumper you can support the troops, support cancer research, support and celebrate equality, visualize whirled peas, say you voted in every election since nixon came about (hint: it doesn't matter if you weren't born yet, who's going to look?), promote tax breaks, promote public programs, support a woman's right to choose and throw one of those jesus fish up there too. on your front bumper and side windows, be sure to say you honor god but question everything, are an alum of approximately a dozen universities and colleges worldwide, tell drivers to be safe and give bike riders 5 feet while also letting us know you'd rather be shopping at nordstrom and your other car is a broom, the amnesty international candle logo is pretty, and also, you love every mlb, nfl, nhl and nba team. if that's not enough, you can always post the stickers for any and all harry potter hogwarts houses and throw the radiohead toothy bear logo up there, cause nobody doesn't like that guy.
you should now have free reign to cut people off and be a jerk as you see fit. however if you can even see out of any windows, clearly you haven't posted all the stickers, because to support everything and thus piss off everybody/nobody and secure yourself a front-row seat to badassery on the open roads should cover every inch of any vehicle, from a miata to an excursion. c'mon. keep stickering. it's fun. i promise.
5. what's going to happen when hyphenated-name folks' kids start getting married?
i feel like i'm qualified to comment on this because i spend enough time at my job parsing through a client database to find whoever's behind a certain claim, and it's painful enough to find out i have to search for them based on married name versus maiden name versus new name versus changed name versus whatthefuckever, like, MAKE UP YOUR DAMN MIND. even more obnoxious are the hyphenated names, like so and so smith-kincade and joe schmoe-doe. but nay, will this be the end of it? oh no. for i fear our hyphenated friends are starting to pair off and marry and spawn. what, then, i ask, are their children going to go by on that first day in kindergarten when the poor bedraggled sap who got suckered into teaching the finer points of fingerpainting when all she wanted to do was teach calculus, calls roll:
underpaid educator of the youth who will totally be our future, so basically, we're screwed: amber addison?
girl named amber, which, wow, are kids still getting named after rocks?: here!
cog and peon in the education system: johnny bledsoe?
kid named johnny who will inevitably eat paste for money by third grade: heeeere!
lady who wishes she'd majored in drinking instead of education: madison smith-kincade-schmoe-doe?
kid with a name longer than she is tall: ...i think so.
sap: what?
kid with pretentious parents: i don't know if i'm here. i mean, there's 4 of me to keep track of. that's a damn lot of responsibility for a kindergartener, for pete's sake I'M ONLY SIX.
teacher who will need a shrink soon: oh...i...well, yes. you're here.
kid who will be bogarting that shrink bc her parents probably have the money while teacher's craptacular school district health insurance doesn't cover acts of the brain: FOUR NAMES, IT'S INSANITY! WHY DON'T YOU JUST CALL ME CYBIL RIGHT NOW, YOU WHORES?! YOU'RE ALL WHORES!!
paste-eater: ...what's a whore?
amber: daddy says me, when i hit 10th grade!
cybil: i will murder you all, each with a different pointy end of one of my last names. MARK MY WORDS.
so you see, this is a problem. but quite frankly i'm too lazy to fix it.
6. why do we say 'omg you made it?' when someone shows up to a party?
i mean, they were coming from halfway across town, were they not? they weren't, like, crossing the tundra or deuling a yeti or marshalling a parade on the way over, right? there was no fear of decapitation or blizzard warnings or stock market crashes so far as i can tell, so why the hell are you so amazed when people show up to a gig, shindig or soiree you're having when you invited them and there would clearly be no hardship in driving a few blocks? seriously. stop it.
7. is anybody else incredibly alarmed that dane cook is making music now?
go check it out on itunes and witness the godawful emfaux for yourself. yeah i know, i tried to mate 'faux' and 'emo' and clearly they don't go together bc their child is an ugly bastard. and dane cook is adopting it. does anybody else remember when nobody remembered him?
8. why doesn't 'facon' exist yet?
for those with their 'wtf?' faces on, i'm talking about vegetarian bacon. there are some questionable choices available for those of us who don't (or can't) eat meat, and, well, nobody has named it 'facon' yet. IT'S LINGUISTICALLY PERFECT. morningstar farms, get on it.
9. how much more badass would your life be if it had soundtrack backup music?
think about it. based purely on musical clues, you would know as you rounded a corner whether you were about to meet-cute, meet your doom, pratfall, or find your ex totally making out with the new ho under a streetlamp of cruel, cruel soft focus and you could turn and run accordingly. when you met someone for the first time, you would know instantly based on the plucking of quirky strings or the hop of heartfelt bells that you either met someone who is totally awesome or going to break your heart in a million pieces. need to know if you should go into that room? listen to the music marge, it's evil!
also, you'd never have to charge your ipod again. you could time your typing to the rhythm of your personal theme while bored out of your skull at work. putting groceries in the cart would be hilarious for the offbeat arrangements crafted out of bongo drums and a sitar. and, most importantly, you would always feel important. need to give a presentation at work? you could cue up one of those inspirational speech type sonatas and sway the clients in an instant! want a fun date with the guy you totally did meet cute with because you listened to the musical contextual clues? cue up the latest pop treat by the rip off of whatever new disney upstart is hot these days, and you're bound to be having some good times. want a really effective break up? a full string section has you covered.
okay fine. i just want my life to win a grammy, and i may be too lazy to write the music myself.
10. people you think are hot have radar. embarassment radar.
i mean seriously- i just want to know how it is that the person you would least like to catch you sneezing so hard that it propels you out of your chair or possibly date-stamping your hand instead of envelopes manages to catch you every time. it's like they are hardgoddamnwired to not only be wealthy in wallet and good looks, but in embarassment. yes yes, riches of embarassment. take THAT, carrie bradshaw, i can pun you outta the park. it's probably cause i smoke less.
anyway, point is, whoever's in charge of probing the general public's brains should look into this phenomenon, because i know it's not isolated. bitches please, you've all told me stories that are akin to my own humiliation- whoever you're totally lusting to make babies with suddenly knows your every location like you've been implanted with sonar and a tracking chip. nasa should clone that shit. think of all the crime it could solve! actually i don't know if i can think of all the crime it could solve except for perhaps preventing crimes of fashion or stupidity, but this is my blog and fuck you very much, i'll go on rambles if i so choose.
in short: if you're crushing on anybody, be prepared for them to somehow find you dropping your ipod and bleeding out of your nose while laughing and possibly falling out of your chair or off the desk or running into the cash wrap or dropping a stack of freight, date stamping yourself or pricetagging the mannequin or pushing the 'detonate' button or whatever it is you're not supposed to do at whatever job you have. the end.
alright folks, that's all for me. i'm out to enjoy the seasonal delights of turkey day, the drastic influx of diamond ads (sidenote, fuck you jewelers, i'm WAY more special than a rock could ever be, stop telling men they have to resort to sharp, shiny bedecked clichés to win the game of luuuurve) and the inevitable onslaught of christmas cookies and latkes. oh yes that's right. i'm not jewish but oh how i adore those little pancakes. mmm. winter wins. my fat cells (and all their friends) rejoice at the thought of stuffing and cocoa and loafing by the fireside. oh wait, i live in the desert. fuck. okay, so, mojitos, wheat thins, and lounging by the poolside is the apparent order of things.
screw it, i'm actually just going to bed with a book. this is why i'm hot.
so, for better or worse, my mind tends to not pay any attention at all to you or your stories or your commands if you happen to be my boss (this *could* explain why i got fired that one time but i like to pretend it's because the dude was 4'9" if he was an inch and i'm 5'10" and i threatened him with my very existence. also, he looked like a monkey. also, this was a pet store, so i know from animal faces, y'all), and as i was saying before i interrupted myself, like, way to fuckin go, me, i really can't take the time to listen to you. sorry. it's not that i don't want to, it's that i can't. or is it that i don't can't won't not but...wait...what the fuck? the hilarity of this is i'm totally sober while dribbling this refuse from keyboard into blogger box, so, i guess y'all are just that lucky.
anyway, what happens while i'm busy not being able to or not wanting to or won't notting or whatevering in the paying attention department, is wishing i could get proper health insurance so i could get me some ADD meds again. for real. also, though, my brain is just having little synapse blots left and right and wondering about this that and the other existential (or non) thing. i'm sure you know what i'm talking about. you're in a meeting and someone in a suit that looks like it was fashioned out of cotton that interbred with blue playdoh is all 'blah blah blah rate structure blah blah plans are not sufficient for unsecured creditors blah blah donuts in break room' and you're all 'mmm, donuts...my stomach commands i feed it some glorious boston cream chocolate sugary goo-- wait...did i feed my hamsters this morning? shit. they're going to die from malnutrition and here i am, fat and happy with nutrients. i suck. i am the worst pet owner EVER. maybe *this* is why i got fired from the pet store. nah. it was totally bc the dude was a monkey. a short monkey. for real, what's with short men? why they gotta be all napoleon? napoleon. OH MY GOD, you know what would go SO WELL with those donuts in the break room? NEOPOLITAN ICE CREAM! and i know that's totally not 'napoleon' ice cream but you try telling me you haven't ever made that linguistic leap. omfg linguistic leap-- dude, that sounds like a new hero for nbc to try out mid-series. 'he could learn whole languages in a single bound! communication will never be a problem for...lingua frank!' but frank isn't really a good hero name. it's too...well...it sounds like a hot dog. mmm. hot dog. see, this is why i'm a fatass. i have a donut and yet i also want ice cream and a damn hot dog. AND I'M A VEGETARIAN. because i love the animals. which doesn't explain why i'm accidentally starving my hamsters. oh frick on a stick i was supposed to be taking notes. maybe if i just nod and look like i'm taking it all into my head and not my notebook they won't fire me like the pygmy chimp bossman from petland. dammit. i'm out of coffee. and clearly i need a donut to go with it.'
for real. i'm not lying. this is not entirely unalike what was going through my head between the hours of 10:15-ish and 10:17-oclockness a few days ago, though hell if i was actually keeping track. the beauty of this retard-o-sphere that i call my brain, though (awesomely enough, the firefox on-screen spell check does not have a problem with the phrase 'retard-o-sphere', leading me to believe in its utter validity) is that it totally gives me filler for this blog when i neglect it so sorely. because for real, i'm averaging, what- a few paragraphs every couple months? for a writer, i suck ungodly amounts of suck. (______) (that right there is the space i left for you to insert your own 'suck' joke. it's like choose your own insulting adventure.)
anyway, i'm bored and need something to do because quite fucking frankly i'm not in the mood to watch a movie and snark at continuity errors or read or do anything halfway amusing. i've got lyrics i could work on, or books i could read, netflix to watch and a house to clean but f that s, i'm just gonna jot down a few of the brain rumblings that polluted my occipital lobe this week instead. and because i love and hate you all at the same time, i leave them here for you to read if you are just as le bored as i am.
ten things that slipped between the frootloopy cracks of my brain while i probably should have been paying attention to the shit i was scanning and filing, bc for real, the paralegals are going to eat me alive if they get another chapter 7 in their chapter 13 box, but omgsrsly4real i'm a newbie and i claim immunity:
1. yes, the writers' strike is necessary. 110%.
but if it in any way fucks with my ability to see the scrubs series finale, i am not kidding, i will probably suffer an aneurism and bleed out through my nose and cry into my porridge and curse the world. if one has time to do that after their brain short circuits, anyway. also, i have no idea why there was porridge in that sentiment. perhaps the brain malfunctioning has already begun. in short: give the writers their 2.5%, because without them there is no show, and also, i don't want to find pieces of my brain in the breakfast cereal. the end.
2. upon the thoughts of three religions in one department somehow managing to coexist without murdering each other but not without stealing each others paltry shit or possibly coveting mp3 players, you really could shorten the 10 commandments into 'don't do anything i wouldn't do.', and bonus: 'the commandment' just sounds so much cooler and easier to follow, y/y?
for real. george carlin backs me up on this (oh, okay, so my spellcheck protests carlin, but doesn't protest retard-o-sphere? i'm not sure what i believe anymore)- you really could pare down the commandments if you wanted to make managing your mortal soul's eternal salvation more manageable. and no i'm not religious and don't even pretend to be but i got A's in every religion class i ever took, so shut up.
aaaaaaanyway, so basically the thing is this: sir godly mcdemandsalot is all 'don't do these TEN THINGS! others we'll talk about, because i guess i never specifically called out little altar-boy sodomy and/or blowing up abortion clinics in my edicts, so, my bad. oh dear me, i made a bad. according to kevin smith and alanis morissette in a tutu, universe goes splodey right...about...now. but it doesn't because kevin smith made 'jersey girl', proof that even the greatest fuck up. that's right, god gets a mulligan. awww yeah.'
so basically back to the original point of this drivel- i'm looking at this list of ye olde commandments in a handy set of 10 and well, i think mainly what dude (or dudette, bc really, as others far more comedically inclined as yours truly have pointed out, god may just be a chick bc who else has that kind of interior *and* exterior decorating skills? no straight man, at any rate.) was trying to say was this:
"so i totes don't wanna brag, for realsies, but oh my gosh, you guys. for real? i am most probably totally perfect. i honestly, truly can't help that sunshine and rainbows spew out of my ass and butterflies and starlight vomit from my mouth and that i can take and give life in a snap, oh and have you *tried* sunday school? divine! in case you're a terrible horrible godless heathen, though, check it:
coveting its bad, m'kay?
killing is bad, m'kay?
stealing, lying, cheating, all that crap- it's bad, m'kay?
also, i'd appreciate you not worshipping anybody else other than me. i'm wicked insecure and kind of new at this edict stuff, so, yeah. just obey me and everything will be chill, we cool?
and finally, oh my me, SERIOUSLY, anything you think might be remotely bad? IT'S BAD.
so, to sum up: don't do anything i wouldn't do! this does not include, however, raining frogs and flooding things. or creating the platypus. so feel free to wreak global warming havoc and play mad scientist. clearly the 11th commandment was to get rid of al gore."
man, god is a prick. but i can't fault the guy, cause, well, he likes the things in lists of 10.
3. fat cells have too many friends
okay seriously. have you ever noticed that when you glee and break out the self-congratulatory squeals for losing 10 or 15 or howevermany pounds because honestly 10 is but a drop in the vast ocean that is the gelatinous mass of america's thighs (my own included), that if you don't keep a tight lockdown on that shit it comes roaring back with twice as many friends? for freaking real, people. lookit- unless you spend the unnecessary dollars on atkins cereal bars or the south beach frozen meals or whatever cockamamey fad diet is in these days, and/or spend every waking moment at the gym or thinking about going to the gym or berating yourself for not going to the gym, those pounds just come back. and not only do they come back, they come back with some added squish to make you feel all the more ridiculous trying to fit into your skinny jeans. (which, btw, we should all stop doing, bc not even twiggy supermodels can make straight-leg jeans look good. for real. just, no.)
so why this fat phenomenon? because your fat cells are not meant to be loners. they need friends and family and loved ones. they are the most extroverted body part ever conceived by whatever created the human anatomy and they can't survive on their own. if you try to get rid of them, they will pull themselves up by the fatstraps and multiply. if they can't multiply, they call their friends to come over for a fritos-n-margs party. if they can't do *that*, then they cry and their tears turn into new fat cells. seriously. THEY HAVE TOO MANY FRIENDS. your ass will never be lonely, because it's like the freakin spider club for lipids. your stomach? it's the freakin fat cell south beach. upper arms? forget about it, it's fatty tissue U where everybody drinks, hooks up, pukes, and then procreates.
and you know it's true, too. so the next time you realize your fat cells are costing you friends because the world is judgemental even though it shouldn't be because, holy frick, how many of us are fat now, for real, just remember this- your body has its own myspace, and it's multiplying every time you eat a donut.
4. people can get away with anything on the road if they have a good bumper sticker.
alright folks, you can't tell me you haven't witnessed this firsthand. you know how it goes down. you're minding your own beeswax, business, bidness, crap, whatever it is you mind while you should be minding the rules of the road but you're totally fiddling with the radio dial instead, when from out of NOWHERE, a rogue suv busts out of the right lane, cuts you off like it's a pair of scissors and the road is its asphalt ribbon, and speeds through the light before you get the chance, leaving you crammed in the intersection in a cacophony of honking horns and tire squeals. and yet? you're so not mad. why? because that suv, that honking, gas guzzling excuse for a vehicle that nobody needs unless they are perhaps toting the detroit lions to and from a game, totally had a bumper sticker on it that said "say NO to proposition 104!"
omg, you DID say no! holy frick! it's like you're ideological, political soulmates! so what's a little bit of tire shred and engine grind to make sure you don't collide? that car's got *morals*, man. conversely, a cute little vw bug could give you the courtesy wave and let you out of a supercrowded parking lot onto a main drag to hang a left onto an even more crowded yellow-lined artery through town, and before you can give the wave back, you notice this blight on the front bumper:
"W in 04!"
enough said. sure, cute car with a nice person did something good semaritainly, but now you're totally struggling not to say 'GODDAMN YOU! if i lose the rights for my uterus, IT'S ON YOUR UNEDUCATED HEAD, YOU JACKASS!' as you're totally cruising down the street because of their charity of lane space.
what the hell is this driving etiquette cockery? the world may never know, but to be safe from asshattery of a judgemental and vehicular degree, you should probably just cover your bumpers and trunk and hubcaps if you so choose with stickers for everything. every band, every political affiliation, local cause, national cause, awarness ribbon, honor rolls at all the local schools, snarky rebuttals about how your kid beat up the honor roll kid, and carefully placed shout-outs to icanhascheezeburger and homestar runner can cover your rear windshield. on your back bumper you can support the troops, support cancer research, support and celebrate equality, visualize whirled peas, say you voted in every election since nixon came about (hint: it doesn't matter if you weren't born yet, who's going to look?), promote tax breaks, promote public programs, support a woman's right to choose and throw one of those jesus fish up there too. on your front bumper and side windows, be sure to say you honor god but question everything, are an alum of approximately a dozen universities and colleges worldwide, tell drivers to be safe and give bike riders 5 feet while also letting us know you'd rather be shopping at nordstrom and your other car is a broom, the amnesty international candle logo is pretty, and also, you love every mlb, nfl, nhl and nba team. if that's not enough, you can always post the stickers for any and all harry potter hogwarts houses and throw the radiohead toothy bear logo up there, cause nobody doesn't like that guy.
you should now have free reign to cut people off and be a jerk as you see fit. however if you can even see out of any windows, clearly you haven't posted all the stickers, because to support everything and thus piss off everybody/nobody and secure yourself a front-row seat to badassery on the open roads should cover every inch of any vehicle, from a miata to an excursion. c'mon. keep stickering. it's fun. i promise.
5. what's going to happen when hyphenated-name folks' kids start getting married?
i feel like i'm qualified to comment on this because i spend enough time at my job parsing through a client database to find whoever's behind a certain claim, and it's painful enough to find out i have to search for them based on married name versus maiden name versus new name versus changed name versus whatthefuckever, like, MAKE UP YOUR DAMN MIND. even more obnoxious are the hyphenated names, like so and so smith-kincade and joe schmoe-doe. but nay, will this be the end of it? oh no. for i fear our hyphenated friends are starting to pair off and marry and spawn. what, then, i ask, are their children going to go by on that first day in kindergarten when the poor bedraggled sap who got suckered into teaching the finer points of fingerpainting when all she wanted to do was teach calculus, calls roll:
underpaid educator of the youth who will totally be our future, so basically, we're screwed: amber addison?
girl named amber, which, wow, are kids still getting named after rocks?: here!
cog and peon in the education system: johnny bledsoe?
kid named johnny who will inevitably eat paste for money by third grade: heeeere!
lady who wishes she'd majored in drinking instead of education: madison smith-kincade-schmoe-doe?
kid with a name longer than she is tall: ...i think so.
sap: what?
kid with pretentious parents: i don't know if i'm here. i mean, there's 4 of me to keep track of. that's a damn lot of responsibility for a kindergartener, for pete's sake I'M ONLY SIX.
teacher who will need a shrink soon: oh...i...well, yes. you're here.
kid who will be bogarting that shrink bc her parents probably have the money while teacher's craptacular school district health insurance doesn't cover acts of the brain: FOUR NAMES, IT'S INSANITY! WHY DON'T YOU JUST CALL ME CYBIL RIGHT NOW, YOU WHORES?! YOU'RE ALL WHORES!!
paste-eater: ...what's a whore?
amber: daddy says me, when i hit 10th grade!
cybil: i will murder you all, each with a different pointy end of one of my last names. MARK MY WORDS.
so you see, this is a problem. but quite frankly i'm too lazy to fix it.
6. why do we say 'omg you made it?' when someone shows up to a party?
i mean, they were coming from halfway across town, were they not? they weren't, like, crossing the tundra or deuling a yeti or marshalling a parade on the way over, right? there was no fear of decapitation or blizzard warnings or stock market crashes so far as i can tell, so why the hell are you so amazed when people show up to a gig, shindig or soiree you're having when you invited them and there would clearly be no hardship in driving a few blocks? seriously. stop it.
7. is anybody else incredibly alarmed that dane cook is making music now?
go check it out on itunes and witness the godawful emfaux for yourself. yeah i know, i tried to mate 'faux' and 'emo' and clearly they don't go together bc their child is an ugly bastard. and dane cook is adopting it. does anybody else remember when nobody remembered him?
8. why doesn't 'facon' exist yet?
for those with their 'wtf?' faces on, i'm talking about vegetarian bacon. there are some questionable choices available for those of us who don't (or can't) eat meat, and, well, nobody has named it 'facon' yet. IT'S LINGUISTICALLY PERFECT. morningstar farms, get on it.
9. how much more badass would your life be if it had soundtrack backup music?
think about it. based purely on musical clues, you would know as you rounded a corner whether you were about to meet-cute, meet your doom, pratfall, or find your ex totally making out with the new ho under a streetlamp of cruel, cruel soft focus and you could turn and run accordingly. when you met someone for the first time, you would know instantly based on the plucking of quirky strings or the hop of heartfelt bells that you either met someone who is totally awesome or going to break your heart in a million pieces. need to know if you should go into that room? listen to the music marge, it's evil!
also, you'd never have to charge your ipod again. you could time your typing to the rhythm of your personal theme while bored out of your skull at work. putting groceries in the cart would be hilarious for the offbeat arrangements crafted out of bongo drums and a sitar. and, most importantly, you would always feel important. need to give a presentation at work? you could cue up one of those inspirational speech type sonatas and sway the clients in an instant! want a fun date with the guy you totally did meet cute with because you listened to the musical contextual clues? cue up the latest pop treat by the rip off of whatever new disney upstart is hot these days, and you're bound to be having some good times. want a really effective break up? a full string section has you covered.
okay fine. i just want my life to win a grammy, and i may be too lazy to write the music myself.
10. people you think are hot have radar. embarassment radar.
i mean seriously- i just want to know how it is that the person you would least like to catch you sneezing so hard that it propels you out of your chair or possibly date-stamping your hand instead of envelopes manages to catch you every time. it's like they are hardgoddamnwired to not only be wealthy in wallet and good looks, but in embarassment. yes yes, riches of embarassment. take THAT, carrie bradshaw, i can pun you outta the park. it's probably cause i smoke less.
anyway, point is, whoever's in charge of probing the general public's brains should look into this phenomenon, because i know it's not isolated. bitches please, you've all told me stories that are akin to my own humiliation- whoever you're totally lusting to make babies with suddenly knows your every location like you've been implanted with sonar and a tracking chip. nasa should clone that shit. think of all the crime it could solve! actually i don't know if i can think of all the crime it could solve except for perhaps preventing crimes of fashion or stupidity, but this is my blog and fuck you very much, i'll go on rambles if i so choose.
in short: if you're crushing on anybody, be prepared for them to somehow find you dropping your ipod and bleeding out of your nose while laughing and possibly falling out of your chair or off the desk or running into the cash wrap or dropping a stack of freight, date stamping yourself or pricetagging the mannequin or pushing the 'detonate' button or whatever it is you're not supposed to do at whatever job you have. the end.
alright folks, that's all for me. i'm out to enjoy the seasonal delights of turkey day, the drastic influx of diamond ads (sidenote, fuck you jewelers, i'm WAY more special than a rock could ever be, stop telling men they have to resort to sharp, shiny bedecked clichés to win the game of luuuurve) and the inevitable onslaught of christmas cookies and latkes. oh yes that's right. i'm not jewish but oh how i adore those little pancakes. mmm. winter wins. my fat cells (and all their friends) rejoice at the thought of stuffing and cocoa and loafing by the fireside. oh wait, i live in the desert. fuck. okay, so, mojitos, wheat thins, and lounging by the poolside is the apparent order of things.
screw it, i'm actually just going to bed with a book. this is why i'm hot.
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