I Don't Actually Like Falafel...

I'm a Big Kid Now

2011-04-29T16:51:00.000-07:00

Wellp, I did it. I finally managed to graduate college. Sure it took me 4 and a half years, but that was tooootally because of that uh, major change. The point is, I can now happily say goodbye college, hello unemployment. And what discipline would a studious young individual such as myself now go into you ask? Well, I was an English major so that leaves me with three options basically- teaching, law school and living in my parents' basement. Guess we'll start with the latter and go from there.

Priorities

2011-04-29T16:46:00.000-07:00

Lets talk about squash before I get on with this post. In England they have this thing called squash. Squash is super concentrated juice and you dilute it with water.

I guess it's supposed to be like delicious poor man's juice? I dunno. I don't get it, its kind of like crystal light but with an intensified aftertaste of Splenda.

Anyway, I began this post-like so many others-not to talk about the many oddities of our wooden toothed counterparts, but to whinge as it were about the ridiculous obsession with the royal wedding- insert all sorts of puns involving the word 'royal' here. e.g. royal pain in my ass.

I shrugged it off and rolled my eyes as everyone else grumbled and groaned on about it for the past few months- can't say I cared enough to even get annoyed about the incessant news reports.

Well all that changed one friday morning as I rolled out bed, ran through the shower, and loaded up on 32 oz. of Dunkin Donuts. Shooting down the usual on ramp, a ghastly sight arose before me. Traffic. Not just any traffic- on-ramp traffic. This was just the precursor to 40 more minutes of sitting on the highway. Perhaps I should throw in that I was only traveling 1 exit down.

I frantically scanned through radio station after radio station, but alas real news was not to be had. Only a steady stream of usless reports on the nuptuals taking place thousands of miles away that would basically have no impact on my life in any capacity. Digging through the recesses of my memory- back about 15 minutes at least, I tried to think about what I had seen on the news in between bathing and caffinating. Oh wait- there you go. No news, just two bored looking Brits, sitting in the middle of a tree-filled church, listening to the Vienna boys choir, or whatever that was.

So rather than the traffic report that I normally get in morning that would have saved me from an hour and 15 minute commute, which normally takes all of about 12 minutes, I got to watch two rich people get married and then waste a hefty amount gas and time crawling down the highway and waiting for a 9 car pile-up to be cleaned up- priorities people! Priorities!

Ahhh Ingenuity at its Finest!

2010-11-16T20:25:00.000-08:00

Well, as I'm sure you've all heard by now, a little drinky hath hiteth the market called Four Loko. It'll basically guarantee you an entire night of strait up smashery for around 2 bucks. I've never seen a happier student body.

Unfortunately said drink has also recieved some bad reviews by the grownups in power and has started to get removed from shelves in some states. I've seen two reactions to this:

1.) Ohhhh my god! This must be like realllly bad for you! We should, like, totally not drink this!

or

2.) Shit! They're taking it all away- better stock up while we still can!

But apparently there is in fact a third option and by far the most creative!

Just make your own. Duhhh!

My favorite part is the fine print, reading- "BuzzFeed is not liable for any injury, illness, or death associated with this Four Loko homebrew recipe"

So just a recap- you may die BUT if you don't you'll have a sick, cheap ass way to get drunk. Party or Die. So what do I say? Salut!

See What Can Happen When We Put Our Heads Together?

I've Been a Bad Bad Giiii-irrrrl

2010-10-30T16:09:00.000-07:00

No, I didn't mess around with a delicate man. I just haven't posted in a while. Why you ask? Well in my normal fashion of answering my own questions, its because I've been busy with midterms and other important things- like creating this enourmous straw so that it is suitable for a bottle of vino.

I'm gonna miss college.

Midterms can be a harrowing time for any college student. So in the midst of long term papers for some reason one of my professors decided to give me the rather torturous task of writing a sonnet. What? But why?!!! I don't actually have an answer this time. So, I cracked open the afformentioned bottle and two hours later this is the horrible love child that occured between vino and a failed attempt at Shakespearean verse:

Oh poems how you do terrify me
You do it in many different ways
My teachers they have tried to prepare me
Sadly no information ever stays
The rhythm of them goes up and goes down
I grimace in frustration as it moves
It makes my head spin around and around
I’d much prefer to be shopping for shoes
I used to think Iamb was a dog food
But it has gotten me to count to ten
It tends to put me in a foul mood
I always must try again and again
Writing a poem is repetitious
So I’ll switch it up, cheese is delicious

Iamb, dactyl, trochee, spondee
Completing scansions tend to be puzzles
I force my roommate to listen to me
Soon she’s going to drag out the muzzles
I should pay special attention to form
And count my syllables to the letter
The lack of prose here is making me squirm
In two more stanzas things will be better
Writing this poem, I’m in the home stretch
At least it’s not in Spenserian verse
Whining like this, I come off like a wretch
Reading it must be like having a curse
After reading this, it doesn’t make sense
You will laugh or cry or just take offense

Yes, I understand the iambic pentameter is non existent.
Yes, I passed this in, anyway.
No, I do not care.
Give me another 20 page midterm, just don't make me write another poem.

Cash or Credit?

2010-10-12T13:38:00.000-07:00

I often find that when I go to the supermarket that I'm overcome by a wave of panic when nearing the end of my purchase. See, walking around a supermarket is upsetting enough throughout the process; it just all comes to a stressful hustle nearing the end.

As soon as you get in there it's freezing. I don't know why; maybe they're trying to combat global warming one supermarket at a time. This matter is only exacerbated in the frozen section and prolonged when you leave, as the contrast of a 50 degree store and the 85 degree humidity often causes people to feel like they themselves may crack in two.

The entire set up is a tad ridiculous as well. I mean, nothing is where you think it'll be to start with. I mean, why would the flower section be located next to the bread section? Would it not make more sense to put it near the produce or at least something else that grows? And next to the bread? Peanut butter. Which is all well and good but then what about the peanuts? Located with the nuts, and despite having the word nut located in the name, it's actually a legume. And since supermarkets seem to think that they have cleverly organized their stores by category they're sorely mistaken and therefore, the peanuts should be sitting next to peas or alfalfa or something.

Moving on, lets assume you're a masochist and have decided to go to Walmart or Target or something. If you've actually been able to obtain the items you were looking for in the first place, your task is then to escape that nasty maze they call "grocery aisles." Granted, nothing could be worse than trying figure out how to get out of IKEA, but American businesses are quickly following Swedish suit. Unfortunately, unlike the Swedish ,we aren't given maps or arrows or anything logical for that matter to help us leave.

But don't worry, you weary shopper! The end is near; just pop through the checkout line and you're off, right? Right. Pop through and 30 minutes later you'll be on your way. And though the entire process of your trip to the supermarket was a long and arduous one, the one thing you can count on for sure is that awkward rush at the end. See, I like to pay with debit for multiple reasons.

1.) I'm under the age of 50, so basically it's my life line.
2.) I have yet to experience identity theft, though I'm waiting for it, any day now.
3.) The dreaded cash/change awkwardness.

Yup, change can be awkward. Well, if you're me anyway. See, for some reason even though your whole experience at the store has been one of a glacial pace, at the very end the cashier likes to throw your change at you so that you have only seconds to compose yourself and leave and they can get the next person through as quickly as possible. Upon receiving your change you have minutes to shove it in your wallet, grab your stuff and run out the door towards freedom. Sadly, if your wallet looks like mine, and since mine looks like George Costanza's, there are so many receipts shoved in there nothing else can quite fit smoothly in. So then what is one to do? Fold it in half and then force it in. OK, phew! You did it, you got the cash in. However, since it was stuffed in, the wallet is now too fat and you have to spend your next precious seconds trying to snap the damn thing shut. But don't be ridiculous, you're not done yet. There are still coins to contend with. Say goodbye to more time passing before your eyes as you try to unzip, dump coins, and rezip. All the while the rest of the line has moved on. They are shoving forward and if you don't hurry up and move you're going to have an avalanche of someone else's Rice Chex rain down on you and your stuff.

So there you go. Supermarket, it's a scary place.

Smile Like You Mean It

2010-09-27T21:10:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not talking about that annoying phrase your mother always barked at you when relatives were about to visit, or The Killers for that matter. However, if you guessed the awkwardness that ensues durings those split-second-passerby-interactions, then its a gold star for you!

Just imagine you've awoken in haze, your room littered with Dominos boxes and Lost DVD cases from that marathon you had last night. Realizing you're once again late for class, that familiar phrase, "Oh, crap!" Runs through your head. Before any more precious moments can be lost you yank on clothes, making yourself look mildly presentable, people shouldn't take bathing so seriously anyway right? So down to class you march, back on track to a normal schedule. Now, up until this very moment your whole day seems to be up to par (shower aside) until this fatal moment happens.

Oh hey, look its that girl from my bio class. I wonder if I should say "hi." Naww, she probably won't even recognize m- oh, oh wait. I think we're making eye contact. Damn what do I do now? She's smiling at me. Should I smile back? Ughhhh crap, if I do that, I'll be smiling at her and then the five people behind her. Awwwkward. But if I don't smile she's gonna think I'm an ass. Damn, ok here goes.

And so the tale goes on. You plaster a smile on your face and the other person in question moves on past you, allowing only moments for said smile to be removed and your face returned to normal. Sadly, this never actually works. Normally, you end up grinning on like a jackass to the people behind the intended target of your smile. This usually results in a mixture of:

1.) People averting their eyes away quickly, as though to say "Ahhh! Whyyy is that weirdo looking at me like that?!" (Frankly I can't blame them)

2.) Looks of shock and anger "What? Who the hellllll do you think YOU are? Huh? You keep staring at me creeper and I'll cut you!" (a tad more hostile, but still understandable)

3.) This is the worst reaction of all- they smile back. To which I would say, "Why you gotta be so damn friendly, hippie?! Look away. Look. Away." (well maybe not, but seriously? I'm not out to make any friends on the way to class here, mk?)

And so to remedy such a situation, I have devised the grimace, a face made when you curl the edges of your mouth upwards, allowing a quick retraction of facial muscles to your standard "I'm on my way to class and I have no coffee in my hand" face. Thus allowing the party in question to feel aknowledged and you to be able to move on with your day awkwardness free. So let this be a lesson to all you friendly people out there: the next time you wish to extend and amicable hand (or face) to those walking in the opposite direction, don't.

Cyclists, Innocent Travellers or Culprits Intent on Ruining an Otherwise Pleasant Walk to Class? You Decide. No Pressure ;)

2010-09-20T19:02:00.000-07:00

A college campus is a place for learning. It's a place for frat houses and sorority chicks. It's a place for dining halls and students unions. When walking to and fro to these places the average student has number of options laid out before them. Many go for the ever popular method of walking, its good, healthy, I myself have utilized this many a time. Next up, for the slightly more lazy student, there's the bus. Hey, I don't judge, I live on the side of a hill that is so steep, snowboarding to the bottom in the wintertime could actually be considered a viable option. And, I've never actually seen students do this outside of movies, but I sure as hell wish I had one of my own- golf cart. Mainly on campus I only see university employees carting food around in them, but I think with the right marketing plan geared towards tubbies and freshman, this trend could really catch on. However, there is one last mode of transportation that is unfortunately present in every campus- the bike. I live my life in fear of being clipped every time I step outside my room, danger lurking around every corner.

Just take this scenario into consideration: Ever walk down a street and realize someone else is walking towards you and you think to yourself, Oh crap, is she going towards the left or the right? Well its America, we bear to the right here. And so just as you move right, the girl charging towards you does as well. Uh oh, maybe she's British, here, I'll overcompensate and quickly dart to the left. Unfortunately, this train of thought is also applied by the adversarial walker in question and hence the awkward hippity-hoppity interaction takes place. This is where one pauses, does some sort of move commonly found in a square dance, smiles awkwardly and then scurries off.

Well, this interaction is bad enough on foot, so do you know what happens when your on a bike? Well, your reaction time needs to increase, however it rarely does and unfortunately this is the result:

I would have a slightly more irate reaction, only slightly. But there you are, now you know the dangers that bikes pose to normal people, simply going about daily business. So the next time you think cycling is a good way to get from point A to point B, don't. Get off your lazy ass and walk somewhere.

I Throw Hands Up in the Air Sometimes, Saying [What the Hell am I Listening to?!]

2010-09-15T20:40:00.000-07:00

Some people have quarterly reviews for their jobs, some receive quarterly stock reports, here in the land of falafel we have the quarterly music heckle. Basically I'm saying its that special time of the year when we look at whats being bought the most on iTunes and then gawk at the taste our fellow human beings have in music- good times, yeah?

So the theme this time? Countries! Why limit ourselves to simply scoffing at Americans when there's a whole wide world to work with?

So first up and by far the most popular- Waka Waka (This Time for Africa) [The Official Song for the FIFA World Cup and coincidentally also the officially longest title for a song I have ever heard] {feat. freshlyground}- Yup, your title is too long when you start to run out of ways of parenthesizing the 8 million different sections of it. Am I missing something here? Didn't the World Cup end like way over a month ago? Basically what I'm saying is France, Denmark, Italy, Netherlands, Norway, Sweden, Portugal and Spain, is that its time to move on. Well, maybe Italy, Spain and Portugal get a pass because those are countries with a truly unhealthy obsession with soccer or football, or whatever you want to call it. Oh, alright Denmark your OK too, but only because after the U.S. for some reason most of my views come from your small but proud country.

Next one up? We No Speak Americano- Aside from the obvious grammatical mistakes, as well as the fact that there isn't any actual language called Americano, it isn't that bad a song, I mean I sure as hell don't know what they're saying but you don't need to, you can just awkwardly jump around to it. And the best part? Its produced by a lovely gentleman by the name of DCUP. Whether that's a reference to his love of women with D-Cups or simply a general wish that he had a pair of twins himself, who is to know? Probably it would be safer to just go with former though. So Germany, Austria, Finland, Luxembourg and Switzerland are all rockin' out to this indie/electric sounding tune. Ironically it didn't make the cut in Australia, the place it originated from, or Italy, the language in which its spoken.

Numero tres? Dynamite- Well, Canada, Ireland and Australia I shall be partying with you tonight. I mean, assuming I come into a vast amount of money and a passport in the next few minutes I will be. So, actually on second thought it looks more like I'll be sitting in my dorm room avidly typing away in lieu of having, you know, friends... or a life or something. But anyway, if you reside in any one of these smashing countries and you came to dance, dance, dance, cuz thas yo planz, planz, planz, then your in luck so get out your most expensive high heels and head down to the chop shop- because for some reason that's where this music video took place.

This next one pains me- Teenage Dream. Oh Katy Perry, I can't say I'm much a of fan of anything off your sophomore album, or the debut for that matter. But if you like monotonous beats, awkwardly high pitched singing and a chick that can shoot whipped cream out of her boobs then Katy's the artist for you. New Zealand, U.S.A. I feel nothing but disappointment right now.

So the prize for stand-alone countries starts off with the UK with Please Don't Let Me Go, sung by a lad by the name of Ollie Murs, the ex-X-Factor guy who has turned into some sort of British Michael Buble. Greece- To Kalokairi Mou by Michalis Xatzigiannis, yeah, say that name ten times fast. And last but not least we have Japan with a song entitled this ヘビーローテーション don't ask me, I don't know, and a super awkward behind the scenes video to go along with it- check it out, I find it strange, teenage boys everywhere may argue with me- matter of opinion really.

So there you go, the top 7 songs from around the world- according to iTunes at least. Let's take a moment to pause and wonder what has become of us as a race.

And You Thought Your Job Was a Bummer...

2010-09-13T12:06:00.000-07:00

Ever watch The Tudors? Ever hear of The Tudors? Well, for most people, or at least the ones who paid attention during World History in high school, its a dynasty who ruled England for about 150 years . You know? The one with Queen Elizabeth and Henry, the guy who was a serial marrier? I guess if you don't fit into that category then you either have no idea what I'm talking about or you think I'm refering to the TV show, in which case you are correct.

I picked up this habit via recomendation. I can't really say how accurate to history it is because it really airs on the side of soap opera with men in frilly outfits rather than docudrama. But one thing I definitely have come away with is a sense of gratefulness that I wasn't born way back when. I mean pretty much back then for a woman you were either a wench or nun. Maybe if you were lucky you got to be a barmaid or the Queen or something, but for the most part job opportunities were limited.

Not that I can say job options for men were much better. Nowadays we generally have some sort of labor union- 16th century England? Not so much. Which brings me to the three crappiest jobs you could possibly have back then.

1.) Executioner- Nowadays if you're about to kill someone for murder or whatever, you sit in a little booth and press a button. The unlucky bastard about to die for whatever reason has fluids sent intravenously through his body and he falls asleep. Executioner circa 1300? Well, not only is your job so sucky that you're stuck killing people all day, but the incident of having their bodily juices all over you is also greatly increased. I guess the main form of ending a life was generally limited to beheading and burning, although in one instance (and by that I mean episode) a man was boiled to death in a vat of soup- the same recipe he used to kill some clergymen, how poetic. So props for creativity, but imagine trying to wash out that stench at the end of the day. I mean I complain about smelling like mashed potatoes, better than burnt flesh.

2.) Royal Jizz Disposer- What is a king to do when neither his mistress nor wife with puteth out? Why call in your own personal towel holder to collect, uh, well, you. Yup, this dude literally exists to do nothing other than to show up during times of frustration and dispose of whatever lands on that towel. And I thought being in maid service was bad. But again, with the bodily fluids being dispensed everywhere? I don't know, it must be sort of 16th century thing.

3.) Ooh I did it! I found yet another job a woman could do- Milk Nurse Person. Basically when you're queen or just wicked rich, you are deemed to be above such primitive instincts as breast feeding and after having your baby, it is promptly snatched away to be nourished by someone else. I wonder what the interview process for a job like that is? Perhaps something like a nanny?

Queen: Ahh, I see here that you have had two prior experiences with breast feeding.

Interviewee: Yes, your highness that is correct. One in Kent and then over in Nottingham.

Queen: Right, yes, and what was the reason for leaving?

Interviewee: Uhmm, it grew up and graduated onto that of a cow?

Queen: Oh! Yes, yes, of course. Well everything seems in order, just send in a CORI form and we'll be all set to start in about a month. Fingers crossed its a boy otherwise I'll end up like that wench Ann- beheaded for only spawning off females.

Interviewee: Uhhhm, I'm uh, I'm gonna go now your Highness.

Hmm, well maybe that isn't how it went exactly, but you get the idea. Quality of life back then? Not so good. I mean if you weren't to busy dodging the black plague or figuring out how to best ward off those pesky gypsies from stealing your crops, then you probably managed to wiggle your way in Court and therefore spent most of your time trying to avoid becoming the King's latest conquest- apparently he was quite the man-slut. So, if your job entails being an actuary or making paper or something, don't complain! You could be stuck throwing out entrails for a living.

The Great American Bore

2010-09-10T12:23:00.000-07:00

I would never claim to be a film fanatic. I don't understand camera angles or the use of negative space or the point of avant garde, but what I do know is that if the total amount of events could have actually been portrayed in about five minutes and are dragged out for 2 hours, then there's a problem.

So a quick synopsis of the film I just saw (trust me it will be quick as nothing happened)- George Clooney is an assassin, he moves to Italy and makes a gun which he then sells to a woman who uses it to try and kill him. This attempt is negated however because she herself is shot by dun, dun, dun the very man who hired her to kill him. Oh, and he bangs an Italian prostitute throughout the movie. If any of this sounds vaguely familiar to you, then it's probably because you too watched "The American," and for this I send out to you my sincerest condolences, for you have just lost a solid two hours of life that you can't every retrieve.

There isn't much more to say about this because, well, nothing friggin' happened! I can't say there was any character development, no reason why Clooney wants to run away with the aforementioned prostitute, no explanation as to why people are trying to kill him. The only subplot I can detect, which is about a priest with a secret son, isn't followed. And then, at the end of it all, after the assassin who tried to kill him is shot by the very man who gave her that order in the first place, there's no explanation for that either!

Apparently there's a book, though I can't say I have any intention of reading it because after watching Clooney walk around pouting for 2 hours I'm notentirely sure if I could stand reading a description of him walking around pouting for hundreds of pages.

So, movie snoot balls, you may turn your noses up at me, "What?" you say, "you wanted action, excitement, some semblance of a plot line? How bourgeois." I'll just let these critics' comments (though few and far between) speak for me:

"Those who believe they’d be happy watching George Clooney do nothing for two hours can now test that theory."

"It’s like ordering a hamburger and getting escargot. Which is OK if you like snail, but it’s an acquired taste."

"At some point in their careers, most male actors want to play (a) Hamlet, and (b) a hit man. I hope that Clooney has gotten "b" out of his system."

Really, Rotten Tomatoes? 62%? Clearly a perfect example of the inverse principle of movie critics- if they like it, I hate it and vice versa. If this artsy fartsy stuff is your thing then go for it. If your an average joeshmo like myself, then take a pass and go watch "Going the Distance"- stupid but full of dialogue. See? It's all give and take.

We're Back.......

2010-09-08T20:16:00.000-07:00

And by we I mean students, and by back I mean to school. Yes, tis the season to get out those backpacks and notebooks, minifridges and 30 racks- of water of course, load up the minivans and head out to school whether it be in bustling city, a cozy hamlet, or if you're like me, the boonies. So get ready for kids aged 18-22 to be crowding your downtown areas and parking their cars illegally on your streets- school is back in session.

So every year comes a new slew of classes; and the winner this year is..... a toss up between British Lit. and Creative Writing. British Lit? Do you have an affinity for literature written in an obscure and practically unintelligable manner you ask? Why no, but I am quite fond of the professor, who remindeth me of the mohel from Seinfeld.

The shards will be deep in the fibers. Is that what you want?!

Because I don't think thats what you want!

The classroom is actually made with tile flooring, but I feel if placed in a room with shag carpeting and put to the test he could pull off a good mohel impression.

This leaves me with Creative Writing. Creative Writing attracts creative people. Now, I'm English major and I like to think I'm moderately creative, but I'll be first to admit, I'm a PC and this is a class full of Macs. Hippies, hipsters and that chick who spends to much time in the dark writing stories about horses fill this class, but by far the best part was the opening speech by the professor, "Look guys, I'm not going to lie. This won't be an easy course. It will be hard. We're going to read a lot [there are only 3 books on the syllabus] We're going to write alot. It's going to be greeeeat."

Oh yeah, I think this semester will be greeeeat. Lets hope so at least, it is my last- I liked college so much I thought I would make it a five year experience. So three cheers for my last four months of being a kid.

Fenway Fail

2010-08-25T19:17:00.000-07:00

It's summer! So get on those ball caps, fire up the Stub Hub account and get your butt down to Fenway for a ball game- Oh, oh wait. You can't? Because its raining? Like 2 inches of rain all in one night? Sweet.

Yup, my Tuesday ended like that. I was under the impression I was going to watch the Sox kick some Mariner ass; little did I know the gauntlet I was about to enter into trying to accomplish said goal. I drove to the T, dumped the car, paying $3 in doing so, loaded up the Charlie Card and away I went. Now, I know the T always smells like a mixture of garbage and bum, the two generally not being mutually exclusive, but there's a certain kind of elevated effect that occurs when you throw in the fact that all the moisture in the world has been trapped in the air for the last 3 days due to constant cloudiness. Basically, that business lady wearing too much perfume, the little girl who dropped ice cream and left it there, those college kids who drank too much last night and consequently ralphed Coors Light and cheese fries everywhere, all those people, though they may be long gone, have left their stench behind to stay.

Finally, the orange line came to a screeching halt and I, along with every other nut determined to sit through a monsoon, either because of their determination to get their $20 worth or because they actually were just insane fans, crowded on. Here we have a gambit of people running, from dads with their kids to old guys having some sort of heated discussion pertaining to the downfalls of prestuffed canolis (which I have to say I quite agree with) to two people on some sort of awkward date. Wait ten minutes, hop on the green line, and swap out the old guys for some inebriated 20-somethings and the dad for a confused and annoying soccer mom.

Ahhhh yes, Kenmore Square, I have arrived! The dew drops (well, downpour is closer but who's counting?) hanging about Lansdowne Street, the Citgo sign gleaming in the distance, it just warms the cockles of my heart. So, onward I march, triumphant at the fact there's merely a delay. My Red Sox wouldn't cancel on me and the Mariners are from Seattle, the land of depressing, rainy weather, so they're used to this crap anyway. When all of a sudden, what fresh hell? "The game's canceled!" screeches an annoying preteen boy at me. Whatever! He could be lying or falsely informed. I proceed forward, determined that not only will I sit on the soaking bleachers for hours, but also stopping off at the Sausage Guy first. So, hah! Take that you prepubescent jerk! "Its not happening!" "It's cancelled!" "Game's off!"

Ahhh! OK, I get it. Fenway failed me! So no game, no sausage, no Sweet Caroline. What I can take away from this experience is some soaking hair, an empty stomach and a lighter wallet.

"Oh! But wait," you say, "what about the rain date?"
Well, my dears, I spent the rain date, which might I add, was no less rainy, at my super duper fun job I couldn't call out of. How might I sum up the night for you?

"Cornbread or Italian?"
"Yes."

Insert me banging my head on the counter repeatedly.

Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda?

2010-08-24T12:20:00.000-07:00

Well to be fair, I couldn't have, I possibly would have, had the could part been an option, but should I have? Well, since no one probably has any idea what the hell I'm talking about, and with good reason, I'm referring to the Kindle.

Since I'm now entering my final semester of college, and because I'm a complete masochist, I thought it would be ~~fun~~ interesting/depressing to see how much money I've dumped on books thus far. My highest semester being around $600 in books, my lowest $350 (which really just seems like a freak accident), the average comes out to roughly $500 a semester, making my grand total about $4500 over the course of 9 semesters.

As an English major (insert jokes here) most of what I read are novels, with some text books thrown in to satisfy those nasty general education requirements. So naturally, as the fates would have it, now that I'm graduating, computerized reading has come into vogue. The Kindle starts at $139 and the average novel on it is roughly $10. The average I spend on a novel for class? $20-30. Yes, there are such things as E-Bay and sell-backs, but E-Bay generally produces shoddy quality, while sell-backs rarely return 20% of what you spend on them to begin with, plus you lose out on the book itself.

So really this comes down to math. Over the course of one semester I take 5 courses, spending about $100 per course on books. At $20 a novel that equals 25 books a semester- a reasonable average. In one year I will spend $1000 (insert me profusely crying here). Assuming I spend $10 a pop instead of $20 my yearly cost of books is cut in half to $500 plus the initial start up cost of $189 for the hardware; the grand total is still only $689 which to put it lightly, is a crap load less money than normal.

So let's hear it for poorly devised and solved algebraic word problems!

The point being, that had this been available to me 4 years ago, hell yes, I would have gotten it. And any other miserly individual who doesn't mind burning out their retinas due to reading everything on a 6" illuminated screen should too.

If it ain't Broke, Break it.

2010-08-17T21:41:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday I went home after work, washed off the general smell I've come to know simply as food and yanked on the sweatpants. Why, you ask? Because as much fun as it is to squeeze myself into an outfit that's too tight, paint on a face, and then spend the next 3 hours of my life having mildly unattractive men try to engage me in some sort of horribly choreographed dance involving unwitty banter and bad puns, I thought I would take a night off.

Yes, I'm in my early 20s, but I was due to cash the 4 inch heels in for a night on the couch with a movie- old age is setting in and it's really getting to me. So the movie? The Girl with Dragon Tattoo. It's your typical story of old man hires young disreputed reporter to investigate the murder of his niece that occurred decades ago on a remote island in Sweden. Enter in the young goth chick with said tattoo, who seems to be a troubled young individual, with an unexplained ability to hack into computers. Overall a fabulous movie, with some awkwardness involving anal rapage- so, maybe a little heavy for date night. It was originally filmed in Swedish and you get the option to watch it dubbed in English or subtitled. Subtitles are better as they stay truer to the book.

So naturally, the movie was a complete hit around world, as was the novel it was adapted from, and therefore, what do we silly Americans decide to do? Why, make our own 'recorded in English' version, of course! Because why watch the original film in all it perfection when we could watch some sort of crap remake with this chick playing the very dangerous and dark Lisbeth Salander:

Doesn't strike me so much as the spiked
dog collar-wearing type.

As opposed to this lovely lady who should've (and did) play her to begin with:

Now set her up against a bunch of bums in a subway
with only a broken beer bottle to defend herself with
and they're goin' down.

But hey. if there's a will, there's a way and seeing as the will in this case is millions of dollars, I'm sure come hell or high water, a way will be found. It's too bad that past remakes such as The Ring, The Grudge, The Eye or any other Japanese horror film couldn't serve as a cautionary tale of the future suckiness that, no doubt, will ensue. So come December of 2011 I will sit and wait, probably not with baited breath, to watch this all unfold, and if the report comes back positive from me, then damn, egg on my face.

Beach Bimbos

2010-08-13T14:21:00.000-07:00

Every year, that sweltering, nasty part of the year, some sort of crazed idea comes over me and I think that it's time to pack up and move this party to the vast beaches of New Hampshire. I think we all do it, only to immediately say to ourselves, "What the hell have I done?!"

There are always a few kinds of beach goers plaguing the shores of the Atlantic. Let's start with the least offensive:

1.) The creepy older gentleman

Camera phones are not a requirement, but
often a popular accessory .

Usually overweight, and in addition to being a complete eyesore, they tend to pack up their belongings for the day, and find a nice spot to park their asses from dawn till dusk. Now, what is wrong with this you say? I shall tell you. The creepy old guys, apart from their blatant disregard for T-Shirts, also tend to exhibit seagull -like tendencies. One will rarely show up alone and if they do, they call upon all of their little buddies to come join the party, taking up the maximum amount of space and leaving a trail of beer cans and cigarette butts in their wake.

2.) The Thong Bikini

A style popularized in the 80s and 90s by women who were actually in shape, it has now been carried on only by the trashiest. Cellulite and and some sort of ass tattoo professing their love of a one-night stand they had back in 1982 usually accompany this particular look. Back in the day these classy ladies probably would have gone for the aformentioned old men. This style isn't limited to simply New Englanders either though, as the truly classy Angelina of Jersey Shore once said, "She went in the hot tub wearing only a bra and a thong; have some class, at least wear a thong bikini."

3.) "Like, OOOOOOOOOOOh my God! That life guard was like toooootally checkin' us out!"

SELFIE!

3.) Yes, that horrible squeal can only be emitted from one type of creature on this planet- the teenage girl. Beware not to set up your blanket too close to these beachgoers lest you want a deep insight into the world of hair extensions, the best style of Uggs and the ever important information pertaining to "that girl in Casey's Spanish class who was like totally sleeping with her boyfriend's cousin's best friend's older brother, who goes to college at UC Boulder and is like, totally, probably, pregnant." Oh yes, friends, they take vapidness and topics that are utterly trivial to a brand new level.

4.) Babies...

ughhhhhh! (because who knows what
the hell they're thinking)

Let me preface this with a window into my views on children. Done? Good. Lets continue.

Every year. Every. Year. There's always one family, with one ugly baby, who shows up, carves out a nice 12x12ft. plot of space to call their own and laughs gallantly on at whatever their little ~~brat~~ child does. Behavior usually includes throwing crackers out to watch the seagulls eat them (yes, please just invite all of god's little creatures to where I'm lying why don't you?), screaming loudly out if the attention is moved, however briefly, away from them, or throwing sand everywhere (including on me).

So every year I go to the beach and after not being able to float in the freezing water for longer than 5 minutes I retire to the sand, where this compendium of creatures loiters about.

And now I would like make a brief foray into a completely unrelated topic- Jersey Shore. As I'm sure you know, the cast of characters is back for another season of... well, whatever it is they do. And in celebration of this I would like to throw in a nice little quote from the episode of the week, so here we go:

Jersey Shore Quote of the Week: Finally, the heavens have answered & I found a barbershop in Miami. (Well thank god for that. The economy may be in a recession, children are starving in Biafra but don't worry folks, the heavens have opened, Vinny found a barber shop).

Insert the Mundane Details of My Life Here...

2010-06-28T06:45:00.000-07:00

Ever log into facebook and feel like you've been accosted by your stalkerfeed? OK, maybe that's just me, but honestly, more often than not my stalkerfeed is a smattering of complaints, TMI and random arbitrary comments, pictures and "events attended." It's like saying, "Look everyone! I DO have a social life. See? Here's me smiling on the beach, and here's me at a frat party, and here I am in my super slutty Halloween costume!"

Every now and then people like to throw in a curve ball with some sage advice:

"When life gives you lemons, just say fuck the lemons and bail."

A fun anecdote:

"soooo i accidentally ripped apart a hornets nest 2day and had 5 bees land on my face/head"

Or some sort of nonsensical statement:

"always knew that Voldemort could tap dance."

Most of the time however we are given daily routines no one cares about:

"gym...pool...teaching until 7 :)"
"interview at tennn. :)"
"sleeping. work 9-6."

(Ok, congrats you're a busy, important person. I'll be sure not to get in touch with you so as not to interrupt you're interview at tennn.)

The personal details of a person's life I have no interest whatsoever of knowing:

"so grandma was in a car accident and now we have to talk her into giving up her license and moving into ALF. this should be fun."

(I'm sorry, shouldn't this stay in the family? Facebook is not your personal therapist. I did not ask to know this. TMI!)

Or a dissertation from that chick you've known since you were 5 who's obsessed with horses:

"Well Boost being out of shape and not running barrels in over a year and me never looking at a barrel while on him today... He hauls ass!!!!! he can move his behind while he left me at the second barrel... so proud of me baby. AND ROB LOPED ALL HIS PATTERNS.. The whole patterns even poles"

(You might try interaction with a human every now and then)

So really, the moral of the story is, if something you find to be momentous happens in your life and you think you'd like to put it on Facebook, don't! Get a shrink, talk to your cat, eat your feelings, I don't care! Just don't post it on the internet.

Sex and the Sand Pit

2010-06-16T20:26:00.000-07:00

So the last time I checked the title of the movie, it was called Sex and the City. Let it be noted that the City portion is an important part of this whole affair. So when you take that out of the equation you're left with three broads all on the verge (and one well into) menopause.

There isn't much to say about this movie because despite the fact that it was two and a half hours long, nothing happened. The characters are done, they've lived their lives, just let them be.

I guess a highlighted list of events would be this:

Carrie and Big get into a dispute about whether or not to go out and have fun or sit at home and be bored, laying out the basic reason why people who are 20 years apart in age shouldn't be married
Charlotte gets a braless nanny and waits until she's thousands of miles away from her husband and the nanny to freak out about the fact that her husband is thousands of miles away with a braless nanny
Miranda hates her boss and quits her job
Samantha spends most of her days taking hormone pills and applying creams in unsavory areas so that she can ward off menopause

One day, for some ridiculous reason, Samantha gets to take them all on a trip to the Middle East where:

Miranda walks around Abu Dhabi spewing off annoying facts and mispronouncing words
Even though all of Samantha's menopause drugs were siezed in customs, she conceeds to consume yams at an alarming rate along with continued attempts at screwing anything with a pulse
Charlotte cries a lot blah blah blah
And in a shocking twist of fate that's along the same premise of being sent on an all-inclusive trip to Abu Dabi, Carrie runs into Aiden and they share a kiss-awwww shucks. But what about Big you say? Well don't worry, apparently all it takes for him to get over it, is a few days of brooding and a black and white movie.

Anyway, the trip culminates with Samantha stripping down in front of the inhabitants of Abu Dhabi and throwing condoms everywhere. Rather than shooting her onsight and then dragging her carcass through the streets as they most likely would have (and probably should have) done in real life, we are instead sent on a rollicking adventure in which we follow our four middle aged protagonists running around in a spectacle reminicent of Road Runner trying to escape Wile E. Coyote.

If you have two and half hours of your life you're not going to miss, or a boyfriend you feel like torturing, then this is the movie for you.

My official rating? Bootleg at Best.

Strange Brew

2010-06-07T08:42:00.000-07:00

Ever notice how people seem to love going to upscale restaurants so they can eat tiny portions of weird food and then pay too much for it? Well I have.

It's not that I have anything against different or nontraditional cooking, its just ridiculous when the only reason people exclaim about how much they love the food they're eating is because it's located in Cambridge and remotely related to Southeast Asia.

Take my latest experience with said dining places- Cambodian Cuisine.

I certainly have nothing against Cambodians in any capacity, I just haven't seen people flooding into Cambodia for the food. For example, in Cambodia, chicken vagina is considered to be something edible. I guess that's like a different kind of comfort food, right?

Anyway as soon as my friend called me up I knew I was in for some kind of offbeat culinary adventure. So off we went in rush hour traffic to the aforementioned restaurant. What I got was "Nataing." Their description? "Ground pork simmered in coconut milk with sliced garlic, crushed peanuts and chili pods; served with crispy jasmine rice." My description? A luke warm can of Ragoo meat sauce dumped on top of a rice cake that cost me 10 bucks and had me making a late night trip to a steakhouse.

Hey, there's nothing wrong with dabbling in something different. I like to dabble, I'm a dabbler, just not at $10 a pop.

[Stuck] In My Head

2010-06-01T16:09:00.000-07:00

When I was growing up everybody's parents were a wreck because of the music we were listening to. I imagine that before they were parents, their parents felt the same way. Now, while I am certainly NOT a parent I gotta say, what the hell are they putting on the radio today? There’s no more double entendre, no more "cleverness" with lyrics. Hey, at least Backstreet Boys and N'Sync would throw in a ballad of sorts every now and then to try and seem "deep" and "emotional."

Nowadays if Rihanna wants you to get it up, you best be gettin' it up. Every now and then a wave of insanity comes over me and I decide to take a peek at the top 10 songs on iTunes. So now that I seem to have an ample amount of diminished brain cells swirling around in that vortex of a skull of mine, I thought I'd share with you what the hell tweeners, teeners and apparently me, are listening to:

1.) California Gurls- nope, it’s not the Beach Boys. Katy Perry and Snoop Dog simply got together one day, dug out the crayons and attempted as best they could to rewrite the name, I believe the words you are looking for are "epic fail". I guess this song is really just a plug to Californian "gurls." So here, according to the lyrics, is what you should expect when interacting with one, "Sex on the beach/We got sand in our stilettos/We freak in my jeep/Snoop Doggy Dog on the Stereo" mmmm classy. And just in case you hadn't noticed Snoop Dog's creepy two-line monologue in the beginning of the song he even gets a little shout out- so clever.

2.) OMG- oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh my gosh turn it offff! Actually that last bit wasn’t included in the song. While I'll take a brief moment to reflect on the fact that "music" like this is good for clubbing, I think we can safely say that this song shouldn't even be included in that category. Monotony is taken to a new level in this song. I'm pretty sure even Usher is bored with himself. Some particularly choice lines include, "honey got a booty like pow, pow, pow/honey got some boobies like wow, oh wow."

3.)Your Love Is My Drug- I suppose we could assume that Ke$ha here is trying some sort of throwback to double meanings, a style popular in 90s pop songs, but probably it would be better to assume she's actually just talking about drugs. But hey I don't know, maybe I'm wrong, she's only talking about being "all strung out all the time," and "what you've got boy is hard to find," so at least we know she's going for the high-grade stuff right?

4.) Alejandro- OK, even I know this one off the top of my head because it’s been plaguing the radio to no end. There's nothing really different about this song other than the fact that it sounds less like Lady Gaga and more like Lady Gaga does Shakira and tries to mix in some sort of Land Down Under vibe. Despite her spending the majority of this song begging people called Alejandro, Roberto and Fernando to stop calling her name she insists on speaking in some sort of French accent for about the first 10 seconds.

5.) Rock That Body- ahhh a more creative title was never written. Fergie decides to steal the Queen of Autotune tiara from atop that rat's nest Ke$ha calls hair. We should at least give props for a trippy music video, it’s like Transformers meets The Matrix and the result is will.i.am shooting people with guns that consequently make them, well, rock their bodies.

6.) Bulletproof- If you took an angry British chick and gave her a ginger Sonic the Hedgehog hairdo than I suppose you would get La Roux. This song is like electro-pop 80s and includes the sentiment that, "this time maybe I'll be bulleeeeeeeetproof" she seems to really want to drive home that point in particular as takes up about 70% of the song.

7.) Break your Heart- Well Taio Cruz should get 10 points for honestly in this little diddy. Right off the bat we are told that, "Before I love and leave you/They call me heartbreaker/Don't wanna decieve you" He then goes on to inform us that he isn't easy to please, that he will tear you from the start and that he will most likely break break ya, break break ya heart. So really ladies if you start chasing after that sinking ship, you quite deserve whatever you get.

8.) Beautiful Day- U2 comes to my mind, everyone else thinks of the dude who won American Idol. Just think of the Bono hit but with a messed up tempo and more wailing. After all, that seems to be the common denominator found in Idol winners- and boy can they holler.

9.) Hey Soul Sister- this little bugger has been around for a while now, permeating my life. It’s on the radio, when I'm shower at the gym, in those commercials on TV. Though I've got to say, it isn't that bad and it seems to have kicked off some sort of ukulele trend, a highly undervalued hawaiian instrument. Nonsensical lyrics are again present here, "Your lipstick stains on the front lobe of my left side brains." Uhmmmm, I'm sorry what? But hey, when you're also in the company of songs like Alejandro and California Gurls maybe that isn't the worst thing to ever happen.

10.) Can't be Tamed- Did you hear? Miley wants to be a grown-up. Yes, Ms. Cyrus we understand you no longer wish to be enveloped by that cocoon of innocence Disney has you all wrapped up in. So Robert Iger, its time to let Miley spread those big black wings she has affixed to herself for the music video and fly away. While many see this as a push to turn into Lady Gaga, I would like to ask where it's written that she's the only one allowed to wear feathers and rubber?

Phewsh! Methinks my IQ hath just been lowered a great deal, which does not explain why I decided to say that in Elizabethan verse. So now that that’s over I think I may go read a book, watch Nightly Business Report or do something that doesn't involve binge drinking, breaking hearts or avoiding French men with Spanish names.

Kids These Days...

2010-05-28T13:34:00.000-07:00

One thing I won't ever understand is children. Why do people want them?

They're loud, they poop, they cry, and they make you hemorrage money like there's no tomorrow. Your social life goes down the tubes, and, if you're a woman, you generally become obese for 9 months. When they get older they just become more expensive, and even worse, some start to become crafty.

As previously mentioned, the place I spend my summers involves food and servicing the highly entitled. The main clientele involves old people and soccer mommies with their children. I have to say the children and old people have some striking similarities. Like, for example, their affinity for diapers. Or we could key in on their uncanny ability to mutter what they want and then throw a temper tantrum when you ask them to repeat. But today I would like to focus particularly on the young'ns.

A time long ago, a simpler time that is, I thought babies were cute little blobs you fed and dressed up, kind of like a gigantic doll, but without those creepy eyes that open and shut on their own. Well, during my tenure in food service I have come to realize that they are so much more than that. They truly are terrifying.

First of all, they make a wide range of sounds, kind of like bird calls.

Baby: Yap Yap Yap Yap
Me: Ahhhhh! Why is it doing that?! Is it hungry? Does it need a change?
Co-Worker: That means happy

Now why the hell would that mean happy? It isn't a laugh, it isn't a giggle. It's literally making the same chirping sound over and over, again and again. I'm being forced to take a language in order to graduate from college. I chose Spanish, perhaps they should have offered Baby.

Next is the stage where they toddle, or waddle, or bumble around doing whatever it is they do. I find this stage the scariest because they tend to run away from their parents at a surprisingly fast pace. This will either send adults running around in a panic chasing down their precious cargo or they'll hardly notice whilst their "adorable" children tear apart display cases. They seem to often have an affinity for Syrian bread.

Worst scene ever though:

Kid: *smiles
Me: *smiles back thinking, 'awww this one's kinda cute'
Kid: *runs foreword, firmly clamping down hands on display case
Me: *thinking, 'typical, I thought you were different, but I guess not'
Kid: *continues to smile, sticks out tongue and licks case. covering it amply in saliva
Me: What he hell are you DOING! Do you know how dirty that is?!

*Enter disgruntled parent, upset that I swore at their child...

Now so far these haven't been that bad. They don't actually get too annoying until they can speak. Speaking opens completely different doors for them. They can employ the ever effective techniques of begging (this works on most parents), if not, they proceed to wailing (they'll usually cave at this point out of embarrassment), or if they're smart, craftiness. This little girl stands out in my mind the most:

Girl: Mommy, Mommy! Look, potato pancakes! (a clear introduction to what she wants)
Mommy: That's nice honey (a clear (and failed) attempt at pretending not to notice her kid wants them)
Girl: But I want them! (this one's on the move, she's clearly skipped begging and progressed to wailing)
Mommy: Maybe another time (mmmm far too feeble a response, going to have to step it up if you want combat your little terror)
Girl: But I remember them from Hanukkah! (ding ding ding and we have a winner)
Mommy: Well, alright. Do you want two? (this religious reference has clearly warmed the cockles of her heart)
Girl: No! Three! (and she has clearly learned the art of milking it)

So, as you can see, children are terrifying in any shape and size. All I can do is stand back and smile, because no one wants to hear that their ~~little bastard~~ child is anything less than adorable, despite the fact that they are usually wayyyyy less than adorable.

Free Hugs!

2010-05-19T12:49:00.000-07:00

Ahhh, actually I was kidding. If someone came charging towards me with a tight embrace in mind, I would probably run the hell away. But that being said lets talk for a moment about the hug.

There're comforting hugs, bear hugs, perfunctory I don't-know-you-but-since-you're-my-friend's-friend-I'm-giving-you-this-insincere-hug hugs (these are often paired with a fake kiss on the cheek), and even the most appalling- the sniper hug.

Yes, these hugs are usually pent up and dolled out at the most inconvenient and obnoxious times. For example, at wedding/funeral/family gathering you were unwillingly dragged to, some sort of aunt or awkward uncle, who you haven't seen since you were 8, will usually sneak up behind you and gasp in some sort of falsetto voice, "remember me?!?!!!" while simultaneously catching you in a death grip.

Next up there's the 2nd-grade-throw-back sniper hug. These hugs are usually deployed by girlfriends you've had since forever ago. The scenario generally starts off with you, the helpless victim, roaming off to class, from your car to any mundane errand or destination, or, if your pursuer is a particularly experienced attacker, in your very own home. Yep, nowhere is safe. These predators like to jump up behind you and cover your eyes, generally screeching things like, "Surprise it's me!" or "Guess whooooo!" Like, geee, I wonder who the hell else would sneak up behind me and clap their clammy, and mostly likely unsanitary, hands over my face? Hmmmm, who ever could that be?

The last and possibly most dangerous and annoying sniper of all is the college guy. This guy will scour down a campus and pick out every semi-attractive female in a one-mile radius and hunt everyone of them down on his way to class, a party, feeding time, ect. You name it, he's there, ready and waiting. They can usually be characterized by an overpopulated facebook friends list and an enormous wingspan ready to encompass two or three unsuspecting women at a time. A fraternity membership and gang of douchey friends are not required but usually involved.

So there you are. I hope you can now see that the word "hug" is really just the word "space-invader" disguised.

Designers Like Me.... But Not Me...

2010-05-16T14:12:00.000-07:00

Ok, so before we delve in the deep vortex that is The City, lets just make a quick comparison between this lovely lady:

"Scare the shit out of her, and don't ever do it in e-mail or in writing."
ahh words to live by.

And the one and only Heather Mooney:

"I upset you?! Tremendous, that is tremendous!
Go get your stupid yearbook, I will sign it."

And this only makes me love her more...

This episode decides to start off on a super classy note with a discussion between Roxy, Whitney and Sam about the new People's Revolution photographer taking nudey pics of ladies on the steps of the Met. Glad to see Roxy is keeping good company, as always. But this doesn't actually last too long and conversation eventually turns to bashing Olivia, basically the only reason people are still watching.

And speaking of Olivia, she seems to actually be doing, well, something, for once- good thing the cameras were rolling; it's a rare occasion. Anyway, Olivia is there plugging some of her friends, who string together gaudy looking precious stones and call it jewelry.

While Olivia is busying herself with any project that doesn't involve Whitney or her line, Whitney is with Erin, taking photos and pissing and moaning about Olivia, so it's a reciprocal relationship of hatred.

"Are you working with her a lot still?" questions Whitney.

"Yesssss, yes" responds Erin. It was one of those fun "yeses" where the "s" part gets drawn out for a very long time as though to say "Unfortunately, I am in fact still working with that battle axe." Good thing Erin is far more diplomatic than me.

Anyway, the shoot moves on and surprise, surprise, Olivia doesn't show up to interview her for the behind the scenes portion. Luckily, we do get to see the mildly creepy photographer try to flirt with Whitney. "I'm really a war photographer, so I shoot a lot of conflicts." Well sir, I see you have come to the right show.

As Olivia's absence is confirmed by Erin, we can see a good and proper Kelly Cutrone flip out, much to the discomfort of those around and the sheer joy of Erin. Death threats are made and we cut to commercial break- so basically just a normal day on The City.

Can we also discuss the fact that Olivia never seems to spend more than five minutes at the office? In this argument laden episode we see Olivia strut on in, plunk her ass down, have a quick and curt fight with Erin over the previous day's blow off, hear her say something about tone of her voice and respect and then flounce off five minutes later, leaving audiences hating her more and Erin with a face like this:

Blah blah blah, the episode moves on, Roxy has a date with the former photographer, who seems to bear a striking resemblance to J. Geils.

Ahhh! My homeroom angel!

While watching Roxy talk about her puppy is just sooooo fascinating; what's even better is watching an angry Joe Zee finally bitch out the one and only Olivia Palermo. The number of adjectives this girl has in her vocabulary that seem to simultaneously excuse and undermine are really endless. Eventually, she is given an ultimatum, though I'm still not completely sure why she wasn't just fired. And that brings us to the lunch.

Ahhhh... awkward takes on a new form in this lunch. Armed with Roxy's sarcasm and Kelly's special ability to exude rage, Whitney goes in guns-a-blazin', finally managing to sputter out, "You look like a complete bitch." At which point Olivia promptly stands up mutters something about not having this conversation and once again stomps on out, a routine City viewers are quite used to at this point. But on and ending note, this shall now be known as the day Whitney grew a pair.

Captain Superiority Complex to the Rescue!

2010-05-10T17:31:00.000-07:00

Under every bridge, there is a troll
Under every refrigerator, a cockroach that won't die.
In every class, an obnoxious know it all that won't shut up.

Don't bother trying to complain about your flat tire, they probably have an engine leak.
Don't mention your men troubles, their boyfriend probably cheated on them with their best friend and are still trying to mend their broken heart. *tear*
Basically whatever you think is wrong with your life, don't. Because they are sure to inform you that theirs is much, much worse.

Don't bother trying to take down notes in class peacefully, they will always correct your professor. Despite the fact that he or she probably has a PhD in the subject and has also been studying it their whole lives.
In fact don't try to ask any questions at all, because this person will always have a smarter, more detailed question.

The reason I bring this person up at all is because recently one my lectures was lucky enough to have the author of a novel we were reading come and speak to us. During this lecture of about 60 people there were about 3 that insisted on showing off their obvious genius. Now I'm sure they're all bright individuals, but would we not think twice before try to inform the author of a book what his book means? No?

The only thing better than watching those who believe they are intellectually superior than all the rest make fools of themselves is watching said author shut them down.

Student: so what role did architecture play in this novel

Author: It was to help depict the setting

Student: Right. But what did it tell us about the characters? What did they emote through it?

Author: Uhhhm not much, it was really just there for setting purposes.

Yup you pretentious bastard, shut up and stop looking for a pat on the head. Its nice to be involved and engaged. Its not as nice to speak just for the sake of speaking.
But no worries, the semester is over, you'll be able to tell whose in college because they'll emerge pale and pasty from their dorms gasping at the sunlight and fresh air having been locked in for the past week, so we won't have to deal with any of them for a few months.

Peace out cub scout! Its summer time :)

Slut!

2010-05-01T14:42:00.000-07:00

I work at a lovely establishment we'll call the land where people's souls go to die. In the vast land where people's souls go to die there are many different departments. The one in which I work, deals heavily with customer service. This meaning that I spend a lot of my day nodding my head to every complaint, piss, and moan about things ranging from soup that's too hot to sub rolls that need the dough inside scooped out- only the issues of utmost importance.

But this day was a new day... A day like no other... A day with a sexual harassment complaint?

Oh yes my friends. Sexual. Harassment. Complaint.

So I would first like to give you a quick run through of the average demographics of my customers:

Gladys get my teeth! I need to go down the place where souls go die and
torture the girl behind the counter!

OK little Timmy, now badger the nice lady about which chicken
drumsticks you want.

OK, not that I have anything against uptight soccer mommies or old, saggy men, but when out on the prowl they aren't exactly my target audience. So I'm still not quite sure who it was that filed a complaint of "uncomfortable flirting," but whoever it was shouldn't flatter themselves. And furthermore who feels as though flirting is uncomfortable? Maybe this reflects badly on my flirting skills. Maybe I should punish all those who cross me by flirting with them. At any rate this will probably remain an unsolved mystery. As there are hundreds of people in that store a day it gets too tiring to come up with personalized greetings, therefore everyone pretty much gets the same routine. So the moral of the story kiddies, is the next time you think someone is hitting on you, don't. And even if you still do, don't report them- its a lot of paperwork.

Gleekism

2010-04-29T17:00:00.000-07:00

Calling all gleeks! So I would just like to make the observation that Quinn Fabray seems to have deflated a bit, no? I think she has mastered the art of depregnifying herself.

Season 1 finale:

Last night's episode:

Sooooo, anyone else noticing a discrepancy?