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What the Fuck!? Jesus Just Cut Me Off!

Thu, 19 Jul 2007 14:20:27 +0100

What's the deal with people driving like assholes with Jesus fishes on their cars? The ironic part of being cut off by someone that has this fish on the back of their car is you generally shout the word, "Jesus!" just as you notice the decal. Maybe this is a new tactic the church is using to get people's attention, but how do you think the Lord's Son feels about being represented by some jackoff in a minivan who's talking on the phone, flicking Pall Malls out the window and driving like a complete dick? Do the Judeo-Christian code of ethics only apply in the church parking lot? I don't know, i'm just asking. Maybe i'm supposed to be giving these people a break, i mean, they did purchase and adhere a gray plastic fish to their car. That must mean they can drive however they want. I can understand people with Darwin fishes driving like douchebags because let's face it, they're already going to hell for making fun of the Jesus fish.

If my calculations are correct and the Jesus fish is a license to promote the Lord with impunity, i'm slapping one on my forehead every time a baby starts crying in the movies or some asswipe is standing in line screaming into their phone and punching them until I feel they believe in God. I would use the Jesus fish for good, not evil.

You can call me The Jesus of Justice.

An Open Letter to Atari

Tue, 17 Jul 2007 02:40:20 +0100

Dear Atari,

So, here it is at last! The long awaited and much anticipated patch for Test Drive Unlimited. The universal binary bandaid, that was supposed to take this game and actually turn it into an entertaining experience. Having installed the patch, tested the game, as well as having read fellow gamers posts in the forum, I simply have to ask:

What the FUCK happened?!

Now, unlike many of my fellow gamers, I was lucky enough not to have experienced the graphic card incompatibility issues, sound problems, random game crashes, or any other of the myriad of bugs that shipped with this game - except one. That god-damned game stutter.

You know about that one, right?! Where you are driving along, usually at a high rate of speed, when all of a sudden out of fucking nowhere the game just decides to stutter/pause for an instant, causing you to be all over the fucking road before ending up in an glorious car crash.

At first that was kind of humorous, as in "Look, I totally just knocked that other car off the road." But it slowly started to displease me. Especially when it causes you to lose races. Going so far as to tell myself that this is a cool "Matrix" like effect, temporarily stopping time, did not put me into a better disposition, either. This problem is a dick up my ass, and it pisses me off.

And that sack of shit garbage patch you guys have been promising and delaying for months on end does not even fix the problem. If anything, the stutter seems to be more frequent now. The game now stutters more than little Mike Buhren from the 7th grade! And you know what? We kicked the snot out of that kid for talking weird. Obviously, that was wrong at the time, but you guys would seriously deserve it, you lazy, greedy, lying cunts! Did you guys even test this shit?!

I suppose you deserve some credit - at least you did not go the Microsoft route and call the stutter a "feature" of the game. But, nonetheless, you should be ashamed of yourselves.

In the end, I do realize that me not buying another game from you will not make a spit of difference to you. Much like you don't give a flying fuck about customer service or satisfaction. But considering that your stock type is currently categorized as "distressed," perhaps that will help you to better relate to your customers. Because that is how you are making us feel.

May you all go to "special" hell. The one reserved for lazy programmers and people who talk during the movie.

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drivl

Talking About "It"

Mon, 09 Jul 2007 21:41:32 +0100

   Okay, I'm admitting in front of the entire world that I'm fighting mid-life crisis. It took about six years to acquire and just as long to recognize. The Internet being what it is (largely populated by ~~nosy~~ curious people), I think I'll use this opportunity to completely ~~humiliate~~ indulge myself and just finally talk about It.

   Aging is something nobody wants to hear about. Try to tell someone younger than you about the aging experience and you're suddenly an old fart and no longer as interesting as you were five minutes ago when you were telling them about how you partied with Jimi Hendrix in 1967. Try to talk to someone older and they either patronize you by playing the age card, or they try to convince you that you just need to get a grip and grow old gracefully. Well, I've never been one to accept things that passively and I'm going into this aging thing kicking and screaming. Well, not aging itself, just society's rules for aging.

   Why is it that we can talk about our childhood experience, or our teenage and college experiences, even our experience as a parent, but not our experience of turning middle-aged? Are we that fearful of our mortality in this country? I'm learning things and feeling things and I'm confused by things, but no one seems to want to hear about what aging is like, although we've all been dying since the moment we were conceived. Who knows? I might be able to help someone. Perhaps when that pretty 23 year-old girl is turning 50, she'll remember something I told her. I have a lot to say.

   First of all, I'm damned mad. In fact, I'm pissed as all hell and full of resentment over the illness that has sucked a great deal of the vitality and energy out of my peak years. I started feeling the symptoms twenty years ago when I was around 35, but I attributed it to too much partying. Fortunately, I'm blessed with more energy than two people, so I had some to spare and I could run circles around my friends who were in their early 20s. Actually, my 30s weren't so bad; it was my 40s that sucked. Throughout that entire decade I felt like someone in their 60s. Between the undiagnosed disease creeping over me like a poison vine, chronic illness, taking care of my father in the last years of his life, and the desperate relationship I fell into after his death, those precious years were the worst I've known. If I didn't believe that all things and situations serve a higher purpose, I'd think that my 40s were pretty much wasted years.

   Then True Love came along and everything changed. It helped me to shake off the debris and deadwood I'd collected, and I lifted myself out of the mixed metaphors that are so easily employed in a post like this one. But miraculous as it was, True Love did a number on my head. Why couldn't I have found it when I was young and vital and good-looking? Why did I have to find it when I was feeling older than dirt and no longer liked what I saw in the mirror each morning? Why couldn't I have found it when I could make love all night long, serve breakfast in bed and then dive back under the covers for more lovemaking?

   And I don't want to hear any of that "You should just be grateful that you have true love" crap. Yes, I've been blessed with true love and I never take that for granted, but it doesn't solve all of life's problems, you know.

   To tell the truth, I really thought age would come much later. It crept up on me. Even in my 30s, fifty seemed a long way off. But it's true, I guess, that the older you get the faster time seems to pass. Not really fair, is it. Even in my very early 40s I turned heads, but now? The older you get the more invisible you become. I mean, how in hell does one go from hot to not in a mere ten years? And the bitch is that I actually feel better now than I did then. I know more, I feel more, I love more, and I laugh more. I'm easier to get along with.

   Okay, I admit it. I'm vain. This is really all about the looks. I like getting older; I just wish that I could have freeze framed my looks at the point when I felt best about them.

   I wasn't a good-looking kid. I was in fact a dog-faced burrito. A skinny little red-haired, freckle-faced dog-faced burrito with big teeth. But around the age of 30 something happened. I blossomed. Suddenly, I was fighting off both men and women in the bars. I never sat out a dance. I had a date every weekend and relationships were fast and torrid. Then, without warning, it was as if someone flipped a switch and I was... old. I started hearing "Ma'am" at the checkout line. I started realizing that my doctors and dentists were young enough to be my sons. It's a mind f**k.

   All this culminated while I was in Florida last year filming The Ocular Effect for ABC Family. Once upon a time I would have been out there on the beach baring it all in the surf, running in the waves, hair blowing in the wind, feeling beautiful and free. Instead, I found myself wondering if tucking in my would make me look thinner. A line from one of the Austin Powers movies went through my head:

"There's nothing more pathetic than an aging hipster." - Dr. Evil

   Standing there surrounded by the young cast and film crew, my Levis rolled up as the warm surf lapped at my legs, beaded bracelets on my wrists, I suddenly realized that I was indeed an aging hipster. An old hippie. A relic of the 60s. Then, just as quickly as that thought hit me I rebelled. When did I turn from cool to pathetic? Who set this standard? When did I quit simply being the me I'd spent so many years inventing to being someone society deems hopelessly outdated? "Sod them!" I thought. I'm me. "It's taken a lot of pain, love, grief, loss, laughter, dreams broken and dreams fulfilled to make me who I am. I am not invalid, I am not passé, and I am not f**king pathetic!"

   I decided to bury the old, younger me. That face in the mirror is gone, never to return, kind of like when my sons grew into adults and I found myself wondering, "Who took my little boys away? Where did they go?" (If only I could go back to the WORST day I had as a young mother!)

   The face I see now will not linger for long, either. Soon, I'll see an old person looking back, wrinkles, gray hair and all. And not long after that I probably won't be able to stand at the mirror, and then I will leave. All I want to do now is prepare myself by accepting who I am at any age.

   Life is not about being young. Life is not not about being old. Life is not about accruing things or amassing money. Life is about living, about relishing life and jumping head-first into the experience. I choose to live, grow, love and learn.

   What is life for you?

Grape Tomato Hater

Mon, 25 Jun 2007 08:57:54 +0100

To make a long story short, I'm standing in line at the express lane of a local grocery store. You need twenty items or less. As far as I was concerned I was well under. All I really needed was food for the weekend and I had nine items. Nine.

Right now you're saying, "Boooooorrrrinnnngggggg." Ya. But that's because you're like me. Nine items, express lane, end of story. At least I'm not some ass hole that took twenty five items through the express lane because it's close enough and I didn't want to stand in line with the rest of the upright chimps. Don't worry I can call them chimps, we're pretty much all white people where I live and I really don't care about how creationists feel. They got themselves a creationist museum. I guarantee I'm as offended by as they are by being called chimps. I mean they apparently have an exhibit of humans walking around with dinosaurs. WTF.

So anyway I have nine items. Yet when I glance back at the guy behind me I am met with an obviously frustrated and somewhat degrading look. He reminds me of the math geniuses in middle school that would get pissed if I asked a question. Clarification my friends, that's all I need. The guy looked away. It seemed that he was perfectly willing to give me that condescending look of hatred, but he was slightly intimidated by the idea of confrontation.

I had to know though. "Did I miss something here?" In response the guy just gestured toward my food and gave me a face that suggested I should already have known.
Meanwhile the little old lady in front of me was going through the painfully slow process of organizing her money purse so I decided there was plenty of time for me to catch up to this obviously astute gentlemen.

"I'm sorry," I said. "But I don't really see the problem." His face turned kind of red, and suddenly it seemed like he wanted nothing to do with the conversation. That was pretty humorous for me. I love watching mouthy people when they are afraid to speak their mind. I'm good at that too. Those people aren't used to having to match up to someone capable of the same artful intensity. One look from me says it all, I mean to take this to the bitter end. But he mustered up the courage from God knows where.

"You're tomatoes...." he said, as if it should have been obvious.

Ya.  Grape tomatoes. I discovered the obvious counter point and said, "They're in one container..." Nothing.  He made a tsssh sound and apparently this was supposed to dissuade me from my position. No. Not in this life time. I directed his attention to his box of Wheaties and said, "You've got hundreds of those. Better move to a different line." Then I turned away.

And there I was. Little old lady still taking up the cashier's counter and the guy behind me unloading his nineteen items right behind mine without the little divider thing to clear things up for the cashier. Passive aggressive much? It was time for an epiphany, and here is a brief explanation for your reading pleasure.

(Pause in story. Skip to end to avoid my rant)
This guy is pretty typical these days. He came into the store wanting to get in and out all by himself. When he discovered that there were other people in the line, he became very upset. When I confronted him he didn't know how to respond, because deep down he knew he was just being a selfish little baby at the age of forty something, and instead of just backing off he was just proud and stupid enough to come up with some half baked crock of shit argument. It's easy to do. One can follow all the laws of logic without making a rational argument, or being in any way correct.

And that is where I take my epiphany to the next level. That kind of psyche is really mucking up civilization. We wake up in the morning and flip on the news, or listen to the radio on the way to work. We walk in to work--you get the point now--and it's always somebody is all pissed off about something stupid and everybody is talking about it. The person that started it all comes up with a dumpster full of shitty arguments that sounds good to the untrained ears and then you get to hear those same shitty arguments re-hashed all day long by the arm chair sociologists. The 24 hour news shows are some of the worst culprits as far as bringing these ass holes to the front burner, and that's why so many people love John Stewart and Steven Colbert--that's coal-bear--so much.
(End of rant, but what if you missed somethint!? Come on. Read it. Two paragraphs.)

After such an eye opening line of thought, I was needless to say kind of miffed. I made it my mission to confront these people on a 24 hour basis, whenever and wherever I come across them. "Don't let it go...be angry...make them pay," became my motto of the hour. Really. It only lasted about an hour.

So I had stopped in the liquor section of the store to grab myself a six pack of New Glarus Totally Naked beer, a brewskie I'd been waiting to try. I then walked out and started into the parking lot and who should I see pulling out into the through lane? My good friend the grape tomato hater. I walked really slowly, and I mean really slowly. He yelled and flailed behind his wheel and stared at me when he caught my mischievous glare. Then he looked around--presumably for a police officer--and then gave up and just continued to stare at me. I wasn't done though. When I was out of the way he started to move relatively fast. I turned around like I dropped something and he slammed on his breaks, groceries spilled off of his seat and onto the floor. I laughed and walked away feeling just a little bit guilty. I mean at least he was decent enough to hit his breaks when it looked like I might be going out in front of him again. But I decided the only reason he wouldn't want to run me over is that he would get in trouble. His insurance would probably go up too.

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Grape Tomatoes, Epiphany, Sociology, Encounter, John Stewart, Stephen Colbert, Creationists, Creationism, Express Lane

Youâre so full of crap.

Thu, 21 Jun 2007 07:18:21 +0100

Recently things in my life has kind of changed: my girlfriend went from anti-manic-depressiveness to being depressed as hell and super destructive, and my mate, who would never "drink on principal", has suddenly started drinking, partying and doing drugs.

Yeah, sure, it's their life and they can do whatever they feel like, but: What the fuck!? I don't care what you guys do, as long as you have reason for it.
They've both gone loony and they think that I'm okay with it.

First of all, my depressed friend screwed up her studies so she thought: "Heey, why don't let it go out upon everyone else and myself at the same time? I'll kill two birds with one stone, and it'll make me miserable. What a deal. Hurray!"

Once, while having this IM conversation she suddenly pasted this "quote" about manic-depressiveness containing the so-called "symptoms" of being depressed. I'm not sure what it was word for word, but among the mentioned was: lack of sleep and lack of hunger.

...yeah? And? I skip my food sometimes just because I don't really notice that my belly-welly is hungry, but that doesn't make me depressed.
Nor considering the lack of sleep.
In fact, I should be really depressed if I think about my sleeping habits.

But, this so-called, self-diagnosed depressiveness isn't something that she wants to talk about. Quite the contrary; when sitting together during lunch she ignores me. It's like I'm not even there. I can talk to her and she'll just look at "the pretty birdies anywhere else", not responding.
Well, good for you then.
Just sit there and be mad at yourself/me/everyone/studies/whatever.

My theory is that she isn't really depressed, but needs a reason to just "leave" and fuck the world.
But, enough about her. Over to my suddenly drunkard mate.

This premature, childish, selfish, never-getting-laid friend of mine who, as mentioned before, would never drink on principal, has totally lost it.
I can remember that last year, when I got drunk on this party he attended to, he wouldn't talk to me for a week.

I didn't really get why he was that upset. Sure, I puked, but except for that I didn't do anything stupid, and since that time I haven't been drunk at parties. But, I realize now.
He was upset because he wasn't drinking too.
Yeah, way to go, dipshit. Since you didn't do it then, you're doing it now.

He's always coming over to me telling me all about those totally wild parties he's been too lately, asking in a rhetorical matter: "why weren't you there?" Making me want to go: "Because I was busy..doing grown-up-matters like
work?"

Sure, a party isn't all that bad, I love a good party, but he doesn't give a crap about anything else anymore. And, since he's obviously grown immune to alcohol, he's suddenly jumped over to drugs.

Yeah, good for you, Mr. Hardcore.

You might ask yourself what kind of friend I am for writing this way about my friends, but nobody's perfect.
I'm just writing about their way lately, because I know their still "there" somewhere under this sudden dumbness.

Meanwhile.. I'll just wait for it to pass.

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personality changes, friends

Network Primer to Todays Problematic Driving

Tue, 19 Jun 2007 00:00:12 +0100

THE "NETWORK" PRIMER TO TODAYS PROBLEMATIC DRIVING

I hereby dedicate this to all who face the daily insanity of simply getting from point "A" to point "B".

First lets discuss various [ahem] vehicles. On the road today, there are a plethora of vehicles from the horrible, to the sublime.

From that ghastly creation known as the Geo Metro, to the behemoth"Dualys". [Trucks that belong on a ranch, not in metropolitan areas, certainly not in the average parking facilities.]

From the ubiquitous SUV's, to the exotic Italian wetdreams [which cannot be driven withinthe legal parameters of the American road anyway] known as the Countach, and Diablo.

From the practical, decent sedans; Corollas, Accords, Sentras, to name just a few; and great trucks such as Tacomas, Tundras, F-150's, all Dodge Rams, [and I'm a Ford kinda guy!] GMC's, and others, to the [omitted] Avalanches, Azteks, Hummers, [their original legitimate use was, after all, armoredmilitary vehicles, not as weird status symbols] and that ultimate buttugly [sorry, there is no otherhonest decription] the Scion XB. The Honda Element runs a close second...

The disparity in size alone from one vehicle to another was brought out on the evening news with a series of crash tests on certain economy cars. Only one, [I disremember the name] was barely acceptable in driver/passenger protection in case of an impact.

While I cringe along with the rest of us; who resent the reality of a $60.00 or more fillup, My Tacoma affords much more safety than the compacts. And, to put this in perspective, I would never want a "close encounter" with a Ford F-350 Superduty!

Now lets discuss the [MY opinion] totally irresponsible act by the manufacturers of that ungodly phenomenon known as the cell phone. HOLD YOUR VOTES!!

First, I accede to the need for this monster in todays "society". However, at its inception, they should have been required to incorporate a sensor that would shut the -omitted- things off whenever someone entered a motor vehicle.

People PLEASE, PLEASE, admit that you are driving something that weighs anywhere from 2,000 to over 7,500 lbs AND CAN KILL, down the highway, NOT A PHONE BOOTH!!!!! One hundred percent of your attention needs to be on your DRIVING, not discussing Aunt Betty's hernia operation, or your other half reminding you of the missing items on the grocery list!![Please excuse me for thinking that a phone should serve as a PHONE; not a mini playstation, or a camera, or text messaging...]

Now, just to add to this obscene mix, lets add the sad fact that an unknown percentage of drivers don't adequately [operative word here] UNDERSTAND THE KINGS ENGLISH!

If you want to live here and reap the benefits of our society, it's YOUR responsibility to BE A PART of our society. The American road is no place for someone who may not be able to understand basicwarning signs, or construction advisories on freeways.This is the United States of America, doyou get my drift??

NO other country is so permissive in regard to the need to communicate; especially in areas wherecommunication skills are vital, as we are. Just try to get assistance for your latest computer snafufrom "tech support" for example. [Sadly, to the best of my knowledge, we don't even have a law on the books that SAYS "English is the national language!"] I refrain from further comment; not wanting to get to far off the subject.

Finally, please observe that 4x4/all wheel drive, helps in traction and maneuvering, but it WILL NOT stop your vehicle on black ice. In winter weather conditions, being reckless [like going downhill exceeding forty mph] is a prescription for disaster. Be prudent, be safe, for the sake of others and your loved ones.

Sincerely, "Professor X" in Reno, NV.

PokÃ©mon: Gotta shit on them all!

Wed, 13 Jun 2007 07:35:57 +0100

Seriously, I know most people here have heard of pokemon, watched it, and/or played it. What the fuck is up with it? Well, heres the story...

I woke up like normal, and realized it was my gay nephews birthday in a couple days. I called the kid and asked him what the fuck he wanted. Try and Guess what he said...imagine it screaming in the phone too... " I WANT POKEMON DIAMOND OR PEARL, WHICHEVER ONE, DOESN'T MATTER. PEARL HAS BETTER POKEMON, BUT IT IS KINDA GIRLY, SO YOU CHOOSE!!!!!! ".

To be honest, I was in total shock. I knew he was gay, but not that gay. I of course, hadn't seen pokemon since it first came out, so I looked it up now. As the character now, they have a gay french guy and girl. French... what the fuck? Anyways, I then went to Wal-Mart and they didn't have it. I just sat there and said "Forget It" because I am definitely not driving all around town for a Gay Pokemon Game.

Now Get this, I went to the birthday "party" and I just gave him like 25 bucks. He said he spent all the other money on strategy guides and holders for the games, and now he doesn't have enough to buy the game. He cried everyone. In front of his friends, a 14-year old kid cried about a pokemon game.

I am really speechless, because I'm related to that gay person. It's a bit scary. Now I just have to hope my psycho of a sister doesn't call the police over this and make me look like an idiot. Believe me, its happened before :\ .

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tv, poke, pokemon, ash, pikachu, gay, stupid

Before you Myspace

Mon, 11 Jun 2007 17:25:15 +0100

I can't exactly remember when I joined the "mega" social network of Myspace, but I do know I was one of the very last ones in my circle of associates to make a profile. I also wasn't keen or hip to joining Facebook as well, but I did get a Facebook account before I stepped over to Myspace.

Myspace has been an enjoyment to say the least. I was able to find classmates from almost a decade ago, people I hadn't even thought of in years, but once I pulled out my old yearbooks it was only a matter of typing in their names and pressing the search button. I found an old "boyfriend" from fifth grade, the same guy who helped me to the nurses office when I tore my leg open in 4th grade and had to get stitches. He's a drummer in a band now.

Funny I remember riding my bike to his house on occasions and listening to him play the drums. I found a young man whose grandmother attended the same church as my grandmother and they were always trying to "hook" us up, he goes to the same college my dad attended in New Mexico. Looks a lot different than he did in his younger days. And I could go on an on about the countless number of profiles I have come across by people that I know in my younger days.

Thanks to Myspace I was able to get a slight glimpse into their adult world. In all my reluctances to not set up a Myspace profile I must say I'm glad I eventually did. But wait, in all it's glory and helpfulness, Myspace has it's own way of reeling you in and trapping you. And it can become pretty "nasty".

A few examples:

1.The battle between who will be your "top friends" and especially the vow for that number one spot. The ALMIGHTY #1 spot on your "top friends". It would not surprise me one bit if friendships have been lost, out right vanished over the misusage of the #1 spot on someone's "top friends" list. Just imagine if you have your best friend (or who you THINK is your best friend) as you #1 on your friends list, but you go to that friends page and you are #2 or even worse #3 on his/her "top friends" list. I can see the caption on the YouTube video already "Girl/Guy fights best friend in Wendy's parking lot, because of Myspace error". Personally I have my cousin Gaby as my #1 friend and my best friend as #2. Only because she has her husband as her #1, obligation I suppose.

2.Messages on Myspace. You send someone a message and they fail to either ever reply or take days to reply. Is it just me or the general population on Myspace who will phone up the said "friend" and ask them WHY they haven't had the time or put in some effort to respond to my Myspace message. Who doesn't like to see the little red envelope saying you have "New Messages"? Admit, by the time I've called them I could have also already asked them or said what I've said in the infamous Myspace message I sent, but it's NOT the same, I want to see my RED
envelope!!

3.Friend requests. Does the lack of friend requests really tell you how popular you are on Myspace? When I first set up my profile I had hundreds of friends to add, and it was like I either sent out at least five (5) requests to be someone's friend or at least got three (3) requests to be someone else's friend. But then sadly those friend requests just disappeared, I thought to myself, surely 176 is not going to be the number I'm stuck at, I KNOW MORE PEOPLE THAN THAT! Next to receiving a New Message when I signed in, having a friend request was the highlight of my Myspace experience. It's been about three (3) months since my last friend request came in, and that was only because an old friend has his account hacked and had to rebuild his friend's list. Bummer.

4.Myspace music on profiles. Am I the only one who turns their speakers off when surfing profiles on Myspace? Too many times have I been startled by someone's unexpected tunes and almost fallen out of my seat. For example I visited the profile of a young lady who I had been an associate with in highschool, sweet and very respectful, at the time. I get to her profile and it's all dark and sad looking, and at that time I had my speakers up probably full blast, and was NOT ready for the grunge music that came blaring out of my speakers from Miss sweet and respectful in highschool girl. dern near fell backwards out my seat. I refuse to look at profiles with the speakers on. I don't give a care what song you have on your profile. Stop scaring me!

5.Picture captions. Do photos really need captions? "Me at the beach", ok I can cleary see that, given the water and sand, but how about telling us WHAT beach and stop with all the obvious bullcrap. Give some detail if you are going to give a needless caption. Here's my favorite (sarcasm) "Don't I look sexy?" Are you being rehtorical? Heck if I ever found you to be sexy, why are you writing this stuff? And guys who never fail to have their shirt lifted to show their abs, "you like?" Ninja, do I like, do I like what? The fact that you have failed to find the auto picture button on your digi cam and have taken this same picture countless times in the bathroom mirror with that dern flash. Do I like? No. I hate it in fact, who cares that you work out? Is Myspace the new hangout for gym rats? Ugh, for the life of me, just put a photo up, DON'T pose and DON'T ask any stupid arse rhetorical questions!

6.Lying profiles. It is easier to lie of the internet. You can post whatever the heck you want to and really you won't have to defend yourself or prove yourself true. Especially so on Myspace. I can stand to read someone's profile and the jack up the truth. Someone in graduate school who hasn't even spent a semester in undergrad, but they working on a Masters or Ph.D? Somene who lives down the street from you, or works with you in lets say Houston, but their current location is Rome, as in ROME ITALY. What? Since when did you start liking the Italian way of life? And some people get so far into detail that they start to tell lies that even I get confused on and start believing. "I'm a muscian and I am working on getting a demo cut, or I've been asked to audition in New York for my creative arts talent or some B.S like that", I can't give a real example without actually going to those said pages and pulling them directly from their profiles. Even know a dude who can't be no more than 5′5 maybe pushing on 5′6, but he's 6″1 on his profile, and I swear that ninja look as if he's standing on his tip toes in his picture (caption: How tall DO I look?). Moving on.

7.Bulletins. Is there a way to just delete the entire bulletin board off my homepage? Though I will be guilty of using this meaningless feature to have people read this when I post it to my Myspace blog.

8.Cluttered pages. Learn some freaking HTML first and foremost if you are going to put all that crap on your page. And the fact that you even have the audacity to put all that interactive crap on there thinking I'm going to play with your little mock fridge and magnets annoys the heck out of me. Why you think you so special that I don't have anything to do but to play on YOUR Myspace page? And if one more page crashes my dern internet browser I will PERSONALLY hack your sh*& and delete your account, that's all thank you.

9.This goes hand in hand with #6: Myspace profile ages. Fill in your birthday correctly with the right year. Children who are I know at least five-six years younger than me have somehow become within two years of my age range. I have a 13 year old cousin who, on their profile, is 18? And a friend who I swear is pushing 30, but she's 24? HELLO I'm 23; how can you possibly be 24? Myspace is NOT the fountain of youth, nor is the opposite of the fountain of youth. Oh wait it's not some darn fake ID, it's Myspace.

10.Deleting a friend. How often do we do this accidently on purpose? Friend makes you mad, and you delete them off your friends list...ooooooooo the damage. I'm guilty. Hahahaha. But you could like really aide soemone to commit social suicide if everyone got together and deleted them off their profile. Tempting. Cyber-bulling is no punk. No pun intended.

Bonus: No profile picture. Don't even ASK to be my friend. Period. Who the heck are you?

Thanks to these guys for one of my pictures.

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myspace, insight, humor

I Eat Ramen Because I Am Lonely

Sun, 10 Jun 2007 00:39:02 +0100

Here I am on a Saturday night. Sitting on my bed watching television and waiting for my Top Ramen to boil. Ramen is the anti-food food. It is the food you eat when it seems like there is nothing to eat you house. It is the food that you boil on your stove and consume when you don't really want to cook or eat food but feel like you have nothing better to do. Or you are stoned and it sounds really good to you.

It is quite possible that ramen is the most popular item the Japanese have ever sent us, besides cars and anime. The process is so simple. Boil water, add noodle square and seasoning, give it 3 minutes and eat. Once when I was in college I actually made ramen in my electric tea kettle because I was too lazy to walk down the hall to the kitchen. It worked just fine! Not only is ramen a tasty snack but it is almost impossible to screw it up. It wasn't until later in my life I realized people could actually add things to ramen, like vegetables or beef (you know, like actual Japanese food) and make an evening out of it. What's more romantic than ramen? I mean, really, there are 15 flavors. That could keep you busy for a while.

There is an official ramen homepage http://www.mattfischer.com/ramen/ where the man in charge posted the latest news about the introduction of canned ramen. It's like Campbell's but it's ramen. One of the fans of the homepage had this to say: " O.O Oh my god...That is so fraking AWESOME.I demand that Japan makes us some." I concur. Fraking awesome.

Ramen is one of the limited grocery items you can buy at almost any gas station, and in the actual grocery store it is most commonly sold 10 squares for 1 dollar. Ramen is so important and delicious to our culture (and when I say "our culture" I mean kids who didn't have enough money to eat in college so we live off of top ramen and Kraft Mac & Cheese; the things we couldn't get our moms' to buy when we were little) that there is an indie label called Fueled By Ramen Records. This proves my point that ramen is a super food and should be places right up there with the avocado. Rock stars eat ramen. That's all you have to say.

Nissin says on their homepage, "The noodle isn't just a meal. It's a steaming hot celebration of texture and flavor." I really agree. There is nothing like a hot noodle.

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The Doping of America

Sat, 02 Jun 2007 15:05:44 +0100

So there are people in the world who need to pop a few. Hmmmm. Life that difficult? For anyone who has been paying attention to American society over the past forty years, especially the 80s, drugs have become a bit too prevalent in our society. And I'm not simply talking about the illegal kind such as LSD, Marijuana, Crack, Ecstacy, Heroin, Meth, etc. I'm talking about mood stabilizers, muscle relaxers, steroids, diet pills, anti-depressants, yada yada. This nation has developed a culture of drug dependence.

Society has become far too accepting of medicating problems. Before you flame me, perhaps due to your drug induced rage, let me continue. If I were to have been born in this decade, with my accute hyperactivity and other mental proclivities, I would have been doped up on Prozac and Ritalin before I hit puberty. You know why I wasn't? Because back in my day, less than three decades in total, children were expected to be wild, troublesome, and loud. They are kids!

Parents piss and moan about their children being out of control. Perhaps that is due to both parents being out of the house most of the time either working or socializing rather than presenting some sort of structured environment for the child. Most children act out because they either want attention or know no other way to deal with their problems. They make emotional problems physical because they don't have the mental tools to deal with such complex issues in their head. And parents, by doping their kids, only help to further this process of making mental as well as other issues physical in origin. Rather than speaking with their children to find the root of their problem or finding a healthy way to burn off that excess energy in a constructive way, whether sports or the arts, parents simply paralyze it. They arrest it. In so doing, the child's growth is stunted.

It is up to the parent to ingrain a set of manners as well as protocol into their offspring; not to find the quickest and easiest solution which is to smother it. Parents simply don't try anymore, but who can blame them. Problems are always someone else's fault. Teachers aren't doing enough to help him/her learn. The police were too rough on him/her. I can't help him/her because I have things to do (such as avoiding my duties because I want a faster car, a bigger house, the newest electronic fad). We are a nation of responsibility avoiders using drugs for quick answers to our problems.

The country is just doping. Depressed? Take an upper. Unable to sleep? Take a downer. Don't even dare think that there may be a root to your somatic problems. Maybe you're depressed because your father molested you. Wouldn't it make more sense to seek out closure rather than to go through life consistently masking and avoiding the issue? Maybe you can't sleep because of the stress of your job. Why not quit? Do you really need the pressure? Is it worth your health? Bah, just take some qualudes to get to sleep or guzzle some bitter orange to get you through the day. In fact, you see that girl over there? Yeah, she's hot. I could try to talk to her. Maybe start a relationship. Respect her before the sex. But I don't know how to talk to her. I'm not comfortable sharing my thoughts with other people. But shouldn't I try? Nah, rather than sleep I'll dump my qualudes in her cup and then take her limp form home. Why work towards the nookie when I can simply take it?

I know there are certain cases where drugs are the answer. Those are medical cases where the solution cannot be attained otherwise. In cases of schizophrenia, bi-polar disorder, and other mental illnesses as well as hormonal imbalances, drugs are the only solution that prevents a negative outcome for the individual (violence towards others or themselves). But doping kids? And worse, using meds for everything from exercise to alertness.

It is the continuation of a society that simply doesn't want to take responsibility; doesn't even remember how to take charge. We have made our problems physical rather than mental. Hell, stress, a psychological strain, can show itself in somatic (physical) ways. It will do so especially if the individual does not deal with it on a conscious level. By avoiding proper child rearing, by smothering problems beneath a medicated haze, these kids are turning into drug dependent adults to cope with their problems. They're not learning how to properly cope nor how to grow. It also spills over into other arenas.

Why work hard? I could eat the right diet and exercise right, but I would never achieve the body I wanted without extreme effort. All that time needed. All that discipline. Why not simply shoot up with some steroids or HGH? The muscles will grow faster, the exercise won't be as hard. Why put in any effort?

Ugh, these pounds won't come off. Sure, I could cut out the junk food, but I love the candy bars. Why not simply sip some ephedra, take some dietary pills. That'll help me burn fat faster. Hell, I can eat more!

I am nervous about public speaking. I get nauseous, am gripped by fear, can't stand those eyes on me. I could practice. I could see a psychiatrist to work through my phobia. Wait, I could take Xanax. Then the fears just melt away.

All these problems. What ever will I do? Eh, why do anything? I'm the way I am and I can't change because it is beyond my capabilities. But wait, I can drug my problem away. I can become faster, stronger, make the ugly world fuzzier and less visible. I can burn off those pounds quicker. I can solve my aches with a pill. I can stay awake longer with a shot. Will, what is that? I shouldn't have to exert myself. Let the meds do all the work.

We are passing the buck as a society. We are losing our discipline, failing in our duties. We are not growing. But hey, maybe you simply don't care. After all, you can't help it.

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Drivl.com | Page 2

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Grape Tomato Hater

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Youâre so full of crap.

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Network Primer to Todays Problematic Driving

PokÃ©mon: Gotta shit on them all!

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Before you Myspace

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I Eat Ramen Because I Am Lonely

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The Doping of America

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Youâre so full of crap.