Neon Gospels

BNABBT: putting the Y in Irelynnd

charlottenoyen@gmail.com (Devilfish) — Sat, 23 Apr 2011 15:14:00 +0000

Naming a kid can be hard. You'll want to agree with your partner, pacify family members who have crazy ideas about heirloom names and make sure your child is named something unique yet sensible.

If you ever thought about naming your kid any of the following, consider the advantages of a well-placed coat hanger.

Read part 1 here

We aren't even pregnant yet (we will be TTC as of July) with our 2nd one but we already have a name picked out if its a girl, lol.

Arizona Liberty R.

We love Liberty as the MN but here is the thing:

There is a place called Liberty, Arizona. It is a complete coincidence. I googled the name after we decided and thats what I discovered. We chose Liberty for the MN because my DH is in the Military and a big USA guy. He chose Liberty as in:

: the quality or state of being free: a : the power to do as one pleases b : freedom from physical restraint c : freedom from arbitrary or despotic control d : the positive enjoyment of various social, political, or economic rights and privileges e : the power of choice

So what do you think? Would it be OK to still name our possible future daughter this even if there is a place called "Liberty, Arizona"?

Let me see if I've got this straight: you're asking people who you assume don't know what the word “liberty” means for moral guidance on naming a child that isn't even a sparkle in her father's eye yet?

Name her Bumfuck Nowhere. It's different and unique!

I think it's bitchin' because AZ is an awesome state and Liberty is a trait unique to the USA.

It sure is! That's why all of us slaves in the Belgian malaria mines and socialism factories dream of one day fleeing to the glorious US of A where we too can be fat and retarded and name our kids Mydallynne Yrelynd!

Here's my thing, we like ONLY italian/spanish names. We have a very bilingual family so names cannot be like mackenzie, maeve, brayden or titus, etc... We have anthony and isabella. Last name starts with R, very common spanish name, 9 letters long.

Because lord knows nobody in the history of Italy was ever named Titus...

I know I have already posted a few of the names we like but I am wondering if we used Breelynn DaNeil, or Braylee DaNeil is it too many names put together?

Not really. I can't see a single thing in there anyone would recognize as a name.

We picked out McKenzie Fallon but now all of a sudden he doesn't agree to it and wants the middle name to be Irelynn instead of Fallon. HELP! Does McKenzie Irelynnd sound ok? It doesn't to me but that's probably because I've had her name that we originally picked stuck in my head for months now!

Which do you like better?

McKenzie Fallon

McKenzie Irelynnd

I don't know it's because of the sudden screeching yelp of HELP! or the fact that they both agree on McKenzie, but something tells me this lady had to escape the schizophrenics ward to type this post and her “husband” is a piece of roadkill she found while scaling the asylum walls.

What do you think of the name Nehem? (rhymes with Liam)

The problem is, I would like to have a formal name, too, but I'm not crazy about Nehemiah.

No, the problem is, I'll swallow live bees and shit honey before I rhyme Nehem with Liam.

I am here asking for all of your assistance......I had a baby girl name that was unique and I thought that no one had that name but I was wrong there are a whole lot of ppl that have that name so I ask yall if yall will help me pick out a baby girl name by making suggestions of the most unique names possible........I appreciate all of your time and ideas and I will let you know which one I decide on........

While no deity ever conceived by man can forgive her for that font, I understand this lady's plight. Ironically, lots of people are naming their daughters Unique.

my husband is stuck on Dezmya but i just dont like it all that much may be you ladys can give me some options

If your husband is stuck on Dezmya, maybe it's time to throw in the towel and finalize the divorce before he and his STD-crusted whore give you another reason to apologize to your gynecologist.

From Tamzy Recreation (“Surely not!” you say. “But yes!” I exclaim) comes this desperate not at all passive aggressive plea:

Okay, so a lot of people hate the name that we choose for our little boy. Both me and the boyfriend are in love with them, but I don't want to give a name to my child that he'll end up hating. I grew up with a name I disliked, so I know how that feels.

You're both in love with the people who hate your stupid baby name? Does your husband know?

Before you're so quick to judge,

I haven't even judged you yet, awkwardly defensive lady! The judging comes when the camp counselor grunts. Observe:

family tradition is a huge part of this name. Recreation has been passed down generations, and two first names is pretty much a must in the father's family. And, 'normal' names just don't float my boat.

It's Bhodi Recreation for the first name and Brownyd for the middle name. So, if you put it all together, you get Bhodi Recreation Brownyd.

It's alright to be blunt. I can take it(; Haha!

Alright then! Bhodi Recreation Brownyd sounds like what a Jesus Camp counselor would grunt while he tries to fuck the queer out of some kid's asshole. Haha!

The Bowels of the Internet : Volume 1, Episode Gross

charlottenoyen@gmail.com (Devilfish) — Sat, 23 Apr 2011 12:59:00 +0000

We all realize by now that the word wide web hasn't exactly turned out to be the cornucopia of knowledge our distant ancestors hoped it would be, way back when people were still "surfing" the "world wide web". After all, most of us know the internet as the place where a question like this

gets an "answer" like this

and all we are left with is the pertinent question of who we want to e-strangle most, the Mac fanboy or the three people that agreed this was good advice.

Until I finally get my shit together and start work on a device that allows you to strangle people over broadband connection yet prevents greasy WoWtards from using it to raid the dungeon of the 250-pound night elf they swear is a girl, we're left to swallow our rage and deal with it like mature adults.

Or we can poke fun at them. Let's tweet the hashtag and digg the bookface, it's

Bowels of the Internet: Fanfic Edition

I'm no stranger to fanfiction, by which I mean, I wrote some in my day. My day being yesterday.

"Is that a wand in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"
"Why, Lord Voldemort!" Hermione purred happily...

The idea of fanfic isn't a bad one, in theory. Who can honestly say they haven't read a book or watched a movie or even played a video game and said to themselves: "I can do this shit better." That very basic thought, one we've all had a some point, is the very foundation of fan fiction.

That, along with: "Star Trek would be so much better if Kirk were boning Anakin somehow."

However, the "speshul snowflake" school of child-rearing has created a generation of teens whose only real talent, despite what their Xanax-riddled soccer moms may have told them after their third shot of bourbon, is vastly overrating their own ability. For every genuinely interesting, well-crafted and actually legible piece of fanfiction (they exist) there's roughly 12.845 that simultaneously make the authors look like they would be honestly surprised to learn of the existence of punctuation and are so far removed from reality they think 59% of human interaction is accomplished through awkward boning. After all, we live in a world that has

Celebrity Fic

We've all imagined being rich and famous at some point in our lives. There's no harm in daydreaming that one day your death metal garage band (mine is called Dead Fetus Vomitorium) will finally score a hit and you'll get to live the good life, throwing TVs out of hotel windows and pleasuring groupies with confused sea creatures and whatnot. Imagine for a moment all that works out for you. Years of acting classes and waiting tables finally pay off, you make it big, you become a critically acclaimed household name and all is well in the world.

Until you do a vanity search on Google and discover this.

She looks as simultaneously confused and violent as I am.

Celebrity fanfic writers exist in a perpetual state of limbo where there is just no right thing to do. Either they write completely fictional stories about real people, and that's just plain weird, or they do the research and get arrested for going through Jude Law's trash looking for discarded underwear. That's why that Beckinsale fanfic writer up there sounds so aggressively defensive (if you think that's a contradiction, go read it yourself): she knows.

Understandably, being caught in a never-ending string of no-win situations and forever straddling that fine line between research and the legal definition of stalking has made most of them go a little loopy.

Speaking of Orlando Bloom badfic, there was once a story on a badfic LJ community involving Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom killing and eating Keira Knightley, then shagging over her carcass.

I'll admit I didn't try too hard to find that one.

Most places that are happy to host stories about Indiana Jones fingering Draco won't touch celebrity fiction with a ten-foot boner. Before you chalk that up as a win for basic human decency and sanity, it's mostly to prevent them from being sued into oblivion by pissed off famous people with fifteen lawyers on retainer who are less than thrilled about being featured in a story that has them losing their virginity to Ric Flair.

Musical Fanfiction

Everyone who has ever had a birthday has had one of those musical birthday cards that delight the grandmothers and annoy everyone else. Musical fanfiction, alas, is nothing like that, because that would be sort of neat, in a way. It's fanfiction about musicals.

And you thought I was joking...

On the list of Butch Things To Do For The Legally Insane, paying money to see singing thespians in tights twirling around to jaunty tunes about the French Revolution ranks just below "donating colon parts for your boyfriend's vaginoplasty" and firmly above "writing fanfiction about singing thespians in tights twirling around to jaunty tunes about the French Revolution".

But alright, let's be fair and give these girls (and confused boys) the benefit of the doubt. Many musicals are based on classic works of art, like Les Misérables, Macbeth and Miss Sa- ... Holy shit, there's a Legally Blonde musical?

Anyway. It can be done. Despite some people's misinformed insistence that musicals are nothing but femmy people singing everything they think, many musicals have complicated plots, deep messages and engaging character there is a Legally Blonde musical why!!!

Above: what most people think of when they hear the word "musical"

Cats is not one of these musicals. Proving there is truth in advertising after all, it was a three hour song-and-dance about the fascinating lives of a bunch of cats. Songs about the lives of cats are just about as interesting as you expect them to be: about as thrilling as watching an actual cat.

However, it combines all the things fanfic writers love and cherish: barely hinted at love triangles (with cats), a plot that leaves a lot of room for improvement (about cats) and anthropomorphic creatures that cater to the furries (that want to fuck cats). That's why we get such comedic gems like the follow synopsis:

Drama unfolds in the junkyard as Skimbleshanks confesses his love to Plato, Plato and Victoria come out about their secret relationship, and Tumblebrutus is furious that Skimbles, the one he's been in love with, has emotions for another Tom.

If you understood even 15% of that sentence, congratulations! You are a fifteen-year-old girl. Save the whining for your LiveJournal.

The story you were all waiting for! The story that concludes the Angels series. The Pure Kittens become Angels by being the first to find the Egyptian Soul's identity. Do you know who it is? Find out!

No. No, enthusiastic Cats fanfic author, I will never find out, as I'm pretty sure that would legally require me to wear a helmet while riding the bus. And I know for a fact that the confused and inaccurate Bastet references that no doubt litter this piece of fiction will make me want to vomit down your boyfriend's twisting maze of colon parts he insists on calling a birth canal.

How I would imagine some kittens to grow up at the junkyard with the jellicle Tribe...OC s but also known ones ...sry for grammar and spelling mistakes :p

If that's all your sorry for, you deserve every piece of abuse I'm about to fling at you, like this one: your brain is so full of holes, the people who were poking sticks in your soft skull at your baby shower thought they were putting toothpicks in the cheese platter.

Slash Fiction

Just like the word "musical" conjured images of men whose mothers "love them just the way you are, honey", the word fanfiction itself usually makes people knowledgeable in the ways of the interwebs think of slash. This is where the madness truly begins. It's erotic fiction, derived from popular fiction, and the main attraction is same sex characters boning, sometimes not even in their own fictional universe. In other words, it's about Batman humping Snape.

Classifying this as "humor" in no way absolves you of this crime against my brain, EV VY.

You heartless bitch.

These ladies take no prisoners. They will gladly mix-and-match fictional guys from every conceivable universe and somehow put them in a position to stick their boners into each other. You want Anakin on Obi-wan? Here you are. Enterprise meets Pride and Prejudice? Done. Dr. Who having angry sex with McCay and Sheppard from SG Atlantis? We have that. Throw me a fictional name and I will give you ten positions in which they have banged the Joker.

I'm not a sociologist, psychiatrist or Elder God, so my mind is incapable of conceiving the levels of nihilistic hedonism required to rub one out over the badly written description of Voldemort pleasing Deadpool.

Hah! Bet you thought I couldn't do it. Petrificus Totalus indeed.

All I can do is point out that we live in a world where slash fiction is allowed to exist and thrive, yet Firefly never got a second season.

Lest you feel insulted by any of the things said in this post, I will leave you with this parting thought: who is more foolish? The fool who writes foolish stories about Michael Jackson pleasuring the Weasley twins, or the fool who spends an entire afternoon foolhardily reading them to post a foolish entry on a blog with no readers?

And to those who are deeply disgusted by all of this and want to send me angry emails, I have only one thing to say: Gotcha.

To be Continued...

BNABBT: Devilfish Edition

charlottenoyen@gmail.com (Devilfish) — Fri, 22 Apr 2011 21:48:00 +0000

Idea by Diana "Not Without My Handbag" Goodman. As she explains on Baby's Named a Bad Bad Thing:

It's simple. Some parents are just plain crazy. But few are as crazy as many soon-to- be parents, who, wrapped up in the fear and anticipation, the social status and expectations, go just plain mad. Mad as march hares with swollen ankles and morning sickness.

The following is a catalog of naming questions and suggestions posted on several different baby naming bulletin boards going back as far as early 2001. All entries are left unedited except for length.

As you will see, some parents-to-be have gone so far into the realm of baby-obsession they have lost track of the real, adult world. Their view is so skewed their only concerns are a) making their child "unique" and b) trying to keep the kid from being teased, often with terrible results.

And why shouldn't I try my hand at this? My favorite irritants in the world are bleach, idiots ad babies!

ok me and my boyfriend have chosen names and im wondering how the world thinks about them. i dont believe i will change them but it would be nice to see the embaressing nicknames or anything before the baby gets here :]

Girl: Valkyrie Isis [last name]

Boy: Echo Fallon [last name]

Nope, nope, you're good. I can't see any potential for embarrassment here.

P.S. sorry about the mis spelling :]

Lady, if you're Miss Spelling, I'm Miss Teen America.

Please let me know what you ladies think about our list of names. This is like the 5th list I've made lol. I am a very indecisive person, as you can tell.. =)

Leighton/Layton/Leyton
Harlow
Rilynn
Emerson

It's okay, obvious fifteen-year-old. As long as you're just making lol.

What's that? You're a grown-ass woman? And you're serious? Then I guess it's okay to tell you that Rilynn sounds like an untested chlamydia drug.

which do you prefer (for a girl), Hadley or Brooke or neither?

Well, Hadley is that whiny bi chick from House, and Brooke is just so pedestrian, so I'd have to go with Neither. For a girl.

My daughters names are MaKenna and Makiah my sisters daughters names are Leanna and Alaina.

what if you spelled Makiah different like Makia or MyKia or Makya... or instead of MaKenna jus do Kenna...

Alexa... Neva... Starla... Jayda... Layla... i cant think of many Lee names right now...

My sons name is Izaak (Isaac) theres a bunch of cool ways to spell it... or Jaykob... Dryzen... Darrious... Zander... Xavier... Blaze... Colben... Korben... Callium...Salis... Ryder... Kolby... Parker... Layne... Jayce...

Well, despite that second paragraph sounding like the chorus to the Macarena, I have to give props to this lady for single-handedly hitting the entire internet's ellipsis quota for the year. Now I finally know what a baby naming robot running only on an ever-degrading cycle of bad programming and virus-encrusted data would sound like. Would I personally consider naming even a parakeet any of these things? Neva.

So Im thinking Chase Michael... what do you guys think?

Are you kidding me, lady? If you haven't even caught Michael yet, what the hell are you doing on a baby naming forum?

So i'm seventeen weeks pregnant:D

How the fuck do you manage to fail at spelling so badly that you misspell “years old” as “weeks pregnant”, you cow?

Super excited; even thought it is like 161 days away til my little baby is here"/

Anyways;

What do you think of the name Caspian for a boy? Is it too popular?

The fact that this is the only problem you can imagine presenting itself with a name like that is a testament to the fact that some women deserve to be born barren.

We really really like that name. But i want a unique name. I don't want a top 1000 name.

Input on what you think or even names that a closely related too it would help tremedously(:

On girls:

I have absolutely no idea. Im like braindead when it comes to a girls name. (:

Yeah. Exactly like that.

and i need middle names(: Please. Thank you.

Why not abandon all pretense and name the kid Caspian Unique?

Which middle name goes better: Emaleigh Brielle or Emaleigh Brynn

Emaleigh Bryanne!

So we have our names all picked out. I just can't decide how I would spell this my DH, Mom, and I all like different spellings. What do you think?

Analynn

Analyn

Annalyn

Don't lie to me, lady. Nobody in your family is even on speaking terms with spelling.

My due date is June 6 and I am no where close to picking a name. Can yall give me suggestions of boy names that go with the last name Diaz?

If your only requirement for your child's name is that it goes with Diaz, yall better trade him for some possum traps come June.

My husband loves Maximus. It means "The Greatest".

Nickname would be Max. What do you think?

I think this lady is Maximus idiot so far.

We are really loving the name Tag. Tag Davis R.........

If any of you are Friends watchers, I first heard the name on the show. It was one of Rachel's boyfriends, he was super cute! Ha!

Thanks so much!

Some people name their children after beloved family members. Some people name them after artists they admire. Some people name them after retarded side characters in a sitcom that lost all cultural relevance ten minutes after it stopped airing. Ha!

You're welcome.

Devilfish tries peanut butter!

charlottenoyen@gmail.com (Devilfish) — Wed, 18 Aug 2010 14:17:00 +0000

It's a long story. Short version: I've never had peanut butter, most people I know haven't had peanut butter, and this is a crime against humanity and reason to put me on the terrorist watch list in the US of A. So I thought I'd try peanut butter.

And yes, I have pictorial evidence. Would I lie to you guys?

First of all, I was wrong. Some stores do sell peanut butter here. Either the Dutchies are taking over, in which case I should really be heading to the nearest bomb shelter, or there's something to this peanut butter thing I have yet to pick up on. Obviously it's not selling very well. No jars had been bought and they only had two brands. I didn't buy either of them. Instead, I borrowed my jar. You heard right. Someone in my family has given people money for the pleasure of owning their very own jar of peanut butter. They are Dutchie sympathizers and will be shot at dawn.

Fun fact! The Dutch word for peanut butter translates to peanut cheese. I am not hopeful.

Alright, so we've off to a good start. Original American Recipe! Creamy! I like creamy things and I like America. What can go wrong?

Ah. Someone's had their nasty fingers in there. Apparently this is the standard way in which to consume this pinnacle of human food engineering. Doesn't sound very hygienic to me, but alright, when in Rome and all that...

Proof!

I apologize for the sun going supernova in the background. Much like the seven-foot ring tailed lemur that roams Britain, the Belgian Bi-weekly Supernova is something we've all learned to live with. Also, I now have peanut butter in my taste-hole. Exciting!

First impressions: not as sweet as I would have expected. Mouth dry. Smokey taste of peanuts that have been roasted just a bit too long. No butter. This is strange and unsettling.

But obviously I'm doing it wrong! Peanut butter is to be enjoyed in combination with other delicious foods, or so I've been told. I haven't got any ice cream or jam or anything like that, so a plain peanut butter sandwich seems like a safe bet. Baby steps.

Delicious. And I've been told that peanut butter goes great with just about anything that's tasty.

And what's more tasty than Hot Mexican Salsa dip? Yummy.

It's just as well I tried this during the Belgian Bi-weekly Supernova. The scent of scorched corpses makes me hungry and what could be better than a Peanut Butter Salsa Sandwich?

Lots of things, as it turns out

I refuse to continue this experiment. You people are insane.

Devilfish Teaches Math

charlottenoyen@gmail.com (Devilfish) — Thu, 21 Dec 2006 23:58:00 +0000

It is inevitable. I knew from the second I took this path in life that one day, it would come. I would look upon evil little faces gleaming with malice, be subjected to unholy torture as a punishment for this path I chose and in turn be forced to torture the ones that come after me. In my mind I can already feel my brain fizzing, my skin burning with sweat, my legs shaking. That’s right. There’s no denying it. I made a choice and I know what’s coming. Some day not long from this very moment, I will be a teacher.

Don’t mess with the substitute teacher, kids. We’re prepared. We’re trained to handle you, much like Al Queda soldiers are trained to ignore the plight and pain of the innocent. We’re tough shit. Tough as nails. Oh yes, you think you can best us. You think you can slowly wear down our defences by making our names sound like dirty words and putting sharp objects on our chairs. You’re wrong. I will gladly take your challenge and send you home to your mommy bawling your little eyes out faster than you can say D minus. I’ve got the training. I’ve got the mental fortitude of a terrorist. I will kick your ass.

All this was going through my mind when the regular teacher left the class and I was left in charge. I squinted and looked at their shining eyes, their clawlike hands capable of wielding all sorts of pointy things. Their pigtails.
“Who are you?”
Ah, the words are spoken, the battle begins. I will not be bested! I will stand my ground and teach the hell out of these brats!
“None of your business! You punks think you can kill me, I’ll kill you first! Shut up! Open your books! Close them! Now drop down and give me twenty!”
An eerie silence came over the classroom and I knew I had won this round. Grinning smugly, I settled into my chair and put my feet up on the desk. Little brats. Think they’re so smart.
“I’m sorry, I just wanted to know your name, miss.”
I glared at the girl. You couldn’t tell from looking at her, what with her adorable blond pigtails and pink dress, but I instantly knew I had a killer on my hands, a certified James Bond espionage expert bent on covertly turning my classroom into Vietnam. I was onto her. No way was I giving her any info.
“Well, what’s yours?” I wittily replied, and I knew I was the stronger one when she sat upright and smiled.
“I’m Sarah, miss.”
“Sarah, huh? Hah! How foolish of you to cave in so quickly! I know where you live, punk! I know who you love and I will smash your head like a grape if you oppose me again. Oh, you’re a wily one, aren’t you? But don’t mess with me, kid. Now…”
I got to my feet and walked to the blackboard, convinced that I had shown these miniature Nazis what was what. Time to teach.
“Now, my name is…” I paused. After my display of toughness, it would be unwise to reveal my true identity, lest they come after me at night with sharpened pencils and rulers as kids tend to do. “Miss… Teacher… Ninja. That’s right. Miss Teacherninja. Now open your books at page 54 and get to work!”
Silence came over the classroom as the kids went to work and I could finally relax and enjoy my shiny new Spiderman. It was good to mentally escape the torture a class of seven year olds can and will inflict on a teacher fresh from college and let Spidey take me away, swinging the webs in the Big Apple looking all hot and elegant in those tights. Maybe land on a rooftop, do a little superhero roleplaying myself…
“Miss Teacherninja?”
I looked up. It was that Sarah girl and she was making trouble again, but who the hell was she talking to?
“Miss Teacherninja?” she insisted and she seemed to be looking in my general direction. I looked over my shoulder.
“Hey bitch!”
“Yo.”
“We didn’t learn how to do this yet.”
That was it! I would take no more crap from these brats! Like a majestic eagle I swooped down from my desk and pinned the little rebel to her desk with my elbow, a move all teachers learn in their second year. She finally revealed her true identity and let out a series of high-pitched battle cries, but I was her superior in every way and had little trouble wrestling her to the floor. Things were starting to look grim when her wide-eyed posse gathered around me, muttering voodoo curses under their breath, but luckily they were distracted when their teacher returned. I was able to escape their clutches and made a dash for the window.
“So long kids!” I shouted in triumph as I opened the window. “Miss Teacherninja will return! This is not over! You will pay!”
And with that vow, I momentarily forgot the fine line between reality and Spidey comics. It sunk in right when I realised my web shooters weren’t functioning properly. With my last breath I cursed the Green Goblin for tricking me into being a teacher, then realised I was on the ground floor. I had to think quick. Taking of all my clothes to achieve optimal getaway speed I made a dash for the school gates. I could hear my nemesis wailing and cursing me, but even without spiderpowers I made it out in one piece.

I know you are reading this, Sarah. I can picture you now, sitting behind your NASA superatomic computer, grinning to yourself, thinking you won. This isn’t over, you evil she-devil. You messed with a substitute teacher. You will taste defeat.

Assmonkeys Say the Darnest Things

charlottenoyen@gmail.com (Devilfish) — Fri, 01 Dec 2006 15:47:00 +0000

I smoke. Religiously. It's one of the things that keeps me sane and prevents me from going out and shoot people. And I have good manners. I don't smoke near kids. In restaurants or bars, only if there is a smoking section. If someone politely asks me to put it out, I will and I'll apologise profusely for being so inconciderate, we'll both laugh and that'll be the end of it. None of you are waiting for another 'I love to smoke' rant. This is not for non-smokers. This is for other smokers. Concider it moral backup. Some things non-smokers say that makes me want to staple them to a rhino:

*Smoking is bad for you/Smoking kills*

HOLY SHIT!!! When did this news get out? Why did nobody tell me before! I feel so used. They should totally put a warning on the... Oh wait, they do, see? Nevertheless, there should be campaigns and the government... Oh wait, there are. How could I have missed it? Excuse me, I don't want to interupt this orgasm of usefull information, but I really need to go pay the rent on the rock I live under. Go and get yourself fucked by an elephant, asshat.

*I don't care if you die, but...*

Really? Newsflash, asshat: I don't care if you die either.

*I don't mind you smoking, but my kids...*

You mean those screeching little trolls who insist on running through the library screaming and pulling pages out of books I need to write my paper? Or the adorable little turds who fling cutlery at my mother in a restaurant? WHILE YOU WATCH AND SMILE?!?!?! These brats deserve cancer and so do you. Bonus points if you say this at a fastfood joint feeding your fat kids burgers. Asshat.

*fake coughs, flailing arms*

I'm sorry you got kicked out of drama school, I really am. I know art is your life. I know it's hard to keep the bounty of those eternal springs of creativity to yourself and you want to share, share, SHARE your genius with the rest of the world. So did Hitler.

*Do you know how much cigarettes cost?*

I'm a student. I know the exact price of a bowl of cereal, which I am forced to eat two meals a day. (Frosties: 1.20 euros for a family pack. Bio-milk: 56 cents. Bowl: 4.99 for six. Spoon: okay, my mom gave me that one) I know which supermarket sells their bread the cheapest, because it's two days old. I ride my bike an extra fifteen minutes because there's one shop that sells their fruit very cheap. I have a list of former students who sell me my books at half the price and use them gladly, even if they did draw penises in the margins. I cannot afford a trip to Egypt. Or an opera every weekend. Or a house filled with all the books I'd like to read. Smoking is the only luxury I CAN afford. So go back to booking your trip to Greece and falling asleep at the plays I would kill to see. You pretentious, white collar piece of asshat.

*Cigarettes smell*

As opposed to your SUV, you mean?

*You should quit*

Are you freaking kidding me? It's an ADDICTION, you freak. Let me explain this to you in small words. Try to keep up:
No cigarette. I get nervous. Me, go outside. Smoke goes into lungs. Nicotine causes activation of mesolimbic dopamine system. Me, feel good. Get back inside. Repeat.
You, asshat.

*There are better ways to spend your time*

Okay, let me get this straight. You insist I go outside to smoke (5 minute walk), roll my cigarette there because the smell of fresh tabaco makes you feel sick (2 minutes), smoke it there (3-4 minutes) and go back inside (another 5 minute walk) and yet you assume I don't feel I've wasted enough time smoking and am dying to waste even more by getting a lecture from you (10-15 minutes)? I'm surprised YOU don't have better ways to spend your time.

I could go on, but you get the point. Concider this though; if every non-smoker berates a smoker ONCE in their entire life, I'd still need to hear about it every day. If both my parents, my three siblings, the 20 students in my class and my 7 teachers each have a ten minute talk with me about my smoking habits, I'll have talked about smoking for 320 minutes. Roughly 5 and a half hours. And I didn't even count the random strangers and extended family who also do this more often than I care for.
Next time a smoker bothers you, assume they have heard it all. Don't bother them with any of these silly one-liners. THEY HAVE HEARD IT ALL. Probably that same day. Ask them politely to go somewhere else or put it out. 9 times out of 10, they will. And you won't get stapled to a rhino.

Things Commercials Have Taught Me

charlottenoyen@gmail.com (Devilfish) — Fri, 21 Jul 2006 14:39:00 +0000

Lesson 1) Miracles still exist, but you have to buy overpriced tickets to get into a theme park that hogs them.

Lesson 2) Being a woman sucks, what with the bleeding crotch thing and all, but stuff the right product down your knickers and a male model will shag you and fall asleep afterwards, which is a good thing.

Lesson 3) Doing somersaults on a sunny beach will take the shine out of your hair, but don't worry, the right shampoo will put it right back in, allowing you all the beachy somersaulting goodness you can handle.

Lesson 4) 15 Belgian men on bikes will not provide a good source of electricity for your household.

Lesson 5) Buy a car this month. It will talk, dance, crack jokes and be the perfect sidekick for any financially challenged superhero.

Lesson 6) When English people talk about French cleaning products, they don't stop moving their mouths after they're done talking.

Lesson 7) Sniffing towels washed with the right product will instantly transport you to a magical valley filled with lavender and giggly teenage fairies that sing Mariah Carey songs and fart glitter. You will enjoy this.

Lesson 8) Rice is not harvested by poor women with 8 kids to feed. They now hire American kids on skateboards flipping out on some sugary drink.

Lesson 9) You are fat. Don't mind the fact you look like a anorexic stick insect in war territory, you are fat. Eat our product. You'll look exactly the same, but you'll wear more makeup and strangers will compliment you on the tightness of your posterior for no reason at all. You will feel this is a good thing.

Lesson 10) France sucks. Eat more France!

My conclusion? Somewhere, someone is hogging all the good stuff in the world. He probably bought it in bulk when good stuff went out of style and we were all too focused on getting more money to notice. And now he's selling it back to us piece by piece. I know it's a 'he' (see lesson two) and it's probably a commie too. A Dutch one. Damn those crafty Dutch communists and their hogging ways...

Fantasyland Colour Coding

charlottenoyen@gmail.com (Devilfish) — Wed, 24 May 2006 22:26:00 +0000

The world and all creatures that inhabit it can be strange and confusing at best. I've met many, many bitter and disillusioned people in the short time I've spent in this place, and most of them told me that people can't be trusted. I, in turn, do not trust these people.
We've all been deceived before, or at least felt like we've been done great injustice. Sweet, romantic boys turn out to be pigs, parents up and leave, friends lie, even God seems to hate us from time to time. Bottom line is: one of the first things we learn is that not everyone can be trusted. And trustworthiness rarely shows. That charming Caucasian man in the three-piece suit can turn out to be a rapist, and that foulmouthed Goth chick that hangs around the supermarket scaring old ladies may turn out to be the most sincere and thoughtful person you can ever hope to meet. The thing is, you can't tell by looking at them. That's why we give people the benefit of the doubt.

Not so in glorious Fantasyland, were dragons roam relatively free and every sweet girl with some social standing runs the risk of being kidnapped, where Dwarves drink and make merry in their stone halls and Elves do whatever they get up to in their forests. (Honestly, I don't want to know). In the realm of Fantasy, whether you call it Middle Earth, Discworld or whatever the hell you please, morality and ethics seem to be encoded in the very features of every inhabitant. And allow me, frequent tourist in the realms of fantasy and keen observer of Ye Olde Phantasy Ways, to enlighten you with what I have learned: The Fantasyland Colour Coding.

It's easy. While traveling Fantasyland, look for a particular colour on your traveling companion, enemy or potential love interest to immediately discover their true intention, without even talking to them! Particularly in this order, from most revealing to least: clothes, hair, eyes, mount (if they own one), and skin. Then add it up and see where it gets you. It never fails.
Now, on with the code:

White: this is Good with a capital G, especially on young folks. If your companion wears white clothing and/or rides a white horse, all other colour can be ignored and it is safe to assume they are morally upstanding people. The downside is that they always have the moral high ground, which can and will get on your nerves. Excluded from the White Clause are the elderly, since they more often then not have white hair. If the only thing white about your elderly companion is his or her hair, further colour decoding is in order. This is also the case with skin.

Gray: Displays neutrality, especially when it comes to clothing. Beware Fantasyland inhabitants who insist on wearing gray, because while they may be neutral, they are easily swayed by the forces of both Good and Evil. The simple solution is to get to them first: get them some white robes. Or black leather, if that's your thing.
The exception here are gray eyes. People with gray eyes are always gentle and caring, although to be on the safe side you should not neglect further decoding.

Green: If the person you are decoding wears green, it's safe to say you are dealing with an Elf, in which case you need only to examine the hair colour to determine whether they are Good or Evil. If the person who wears green is not an Elf, he is a wannabe and therefore by definition harmless. Wannabes always end up getting themselves killed by the Dark Lord, somewhere in the middle of whatever adventure you get up to.
Green eyes on the other hand hint at a lively, mischievous personality. On women, it means they are mysterious and sexual. Feel free to take advantage of that last fact. Whether you indulge or not, she will hold it against you at some point.
People on green mounts are to be avoided at all costs.

Blue: Blue eyes are always Good. You will never be stabbed in the back by a blue-eyed Fantasylander, unless all other features are black. If so, consider them a serious threat and eliminate them the first chance you get, preferably from a distance. Consider including one Holy Artifact or other in this endeavor. Plenty of those about. It will get messy, but you’ll save yourself a lot of trouble later.
In the absence of black, however, blue is always a good thing. If nothing else, it signifies fashion sense.

Brown: Like gray, brown is a neutral colour, but while gray signifies lack of a decent backbone, brown signifies the opposite. You are far more likely to encounter a brown-eyed, brown-haired rogue or warrior than a blond one. Be wary of these people. They, too, can easily be won over. Unless they are women. Brown-eyed women should be treated with respect. They may be blunt and frigid, but at least they’ve got your back.

Yellow: Yellow hair, that is to say, blond hair is always Extremely Good, especially when combined with blue eyes. If your companion has these two features, you can trust them completely and abandon all plans to suffocate them while they’re sleeping.
Yellow clothes are only to be found on Gay Mages and wearing them displays a disturbing lack of fashion sense. While Gay Mages will not do you any direct harm, avoid being seen with them.

Red: red hair combined with green eyes is an extremely volatile combination, especially on females. Approach at your own risk. While the inevitable fallout may work in your favour, you have to determine if it’s worth the risk of the whole thing exploding in your face.
Red-haired females, however, are always vigorous, no matter what side they are on. They are either fierce enemies or strong, albeit somewhat tiresome companions. Red-haired males are always Scottish (or the Fantasyland equivalent thereof) and should therefore be approached with caution and cleverly hidden weapons. Be wary of any character clad in red. Red eyes means trouble.

Black: Those who wear black might as well have ‘Evil’ branded on their forehead. Black hair, clothes or mounts are the biggest tip-off you can get as to someone’s morals. If a person has all of this, chances are you are dealing with the Evil Lord himself. If this is the case, I advise a good sharp dash in the opposite direction. Let your companions deal with him.
As is the case with white, this does not include skin. In Fantasyland, you will find that black-skinned people are decent, albeit somewhat brutal folks.

My advice to those who are thinking about spending their next holiday in Fantasyland is to learn every word here by heart and not be tempted to make exceptions for anyone there. The Colour Code has been found to be both True and Absolute. Die your hair and consider contacts if necessary. And bring your own food.

Because internet makes you interesting!

charlottenoyen@gmail.com (Devilfish) — Wed, 11 Jan 2006 15:10:00 +0000

What is it whith these internet thingies that makes people think anyone cares about what they have to say? I have yet to find a satisfying answer to that question, but until that happens, here's a blog of my very own, and plans to update regularly!
And you're reading it, aren't you?

The truth is, I do think I have a thing or two to say, a common misconception at my age, or so it seems. I think a lot. When my head stops hurting, I think a little more. Usually about things that just don't find their way into natural conversation and never get said, but might make an interesting read for someone with too much time on their hands. And I guess that's why people have blogs. Some are great, some are crap, I don't even want to know how this one will turn out, but all of them are written by people who believe their thoughts, lives and musings deserve to be shared. And I happen to think that's a beautiful thing.

In the interest of establishing some sort of 'bond' with my non-existent readership, not to mention giving an example of what randomness to expect here, I'll let you in on a little secret.

I love coloring books. I buy one almost every month and there's nothing quite like reliving your early childhood by picking out pretty colored pencils and funny drawings. I'm nostagic like that, and I have yet to find anything that relaxes me more (Well, except for my right arm, but I'm talking brain-relaxation) You have to focus, but not so much it makes your head hurt, and still have enough brainpower left for some light musing. Don't laugh until you've tried it. There's nothing quite like it.
I live near a pretty big city, so whenever I feel like buying a new book there's usually a store well within walking distance. So it came to pass that I was strolling to the kids section in a huge store, the kind of store that has anything from food to computers, and as luck would have it, the most amazing collection of coloring books in existence.
Or so I thought. 90% of these books had titles like 'Bob the Builder teaches math', 'Vocabulary fun with My Little Pony', 'Learn French through Colors' and similar crap. All of them were by-products of some huge brand name and all of them looked like school books. I know I'm not exactly ancient, but boy, am I glad I don't have to be a kid today. When was at the age these books were meant for, and that's hardly 14 years ago, coloring books were big fat wads of greyish paper filled with funny pictures in black and white, and that was it. Nowadays, I'd be surprised to find one of those. 'Rocket Science for Tods' my ass. No wonder teenagers get depressed. No wonder kids are so anxious. The pressure to learn as much as possible as soon as possible is enormous. Now I like to learn, I really do, but I also like to have fun from time to time.

I ended up buying 'Aladin Domino Colorama', with pictures that are supposed to teach me no less than 4 languages at once. I shit you not. But I happen to like Aladin. That's how nostalgic I can get.
'What a pretty flower!'
'Quelle belle fleur!'
'Wat een mooie bloem!'
'что милый цветок!'

Aren't I smart.