Suuuuuu, first day of fall semester.
I decided to be lazy and only take a couple classes. I've found that I don't hate myself and other people so much as long as I take it easy. God knows last semester's English class was a fucking nightmare. It was definitely a good idea not to enroll in any summer classes; it gave me a chance to relax, actually see my friends, and work, despite my mother's misgivings.
Honestly, I need to start doing things by my own rules. It can be difficult; going up against my mom has often proven disastrous in the past. But. But but but, I know I'm not really going to be happy unless I can figure most of this shit out on my own.
I just made the most '90s-ish playlist ever. I don't know whether or not it is safe to play at work. Certainly some people will create an uproar; coworkers, customers, you betcha, we got fucking music snobs. It's bad enough to make some shifts really suck, depending on who I have to work with and who decides to come in and comment on the music. Well fuck yous; I am of that decade and the music I remember is cheesy and fucking bitchin!
8.18.2009
8.16.2009
The Sexual Frustration of Vegetarian Vampires in Lurve
Kate and I decided to rent Twilight. Keep in mind, neither of us has read any of the books, and we're both fairly intelligent, well-read people. Basically our sole reason for renting it was to tear it a new asshole, which we did so much that we missed a lot of the dialogue (though that's not saying much).
H'okay, so, there's this pretty young woman who, of course, just has to move to some shit town with her emotionally distant father (though this guy's acting was actually just bad). Naturally the reader/audience is given the impression that she's a bit of a social outcast, but somehow a whole clique is magically drawn to her and BOOM you have Instant Friends! Of course, the actress sucks so much that what I presume to her social awkwardness comes out as complete indifference to these people who are so desperate to kiss her ass. Then enters Impossibly Hot Guy. I not ashamed to admit that I thought Robert Pattinson was totally hot until I saw this movie. But seriously? If I saw a guy throw up in his mouth at the mere sight of me I would be turned off so instantly. Is that Pattinson's idea of conveying love at first sight? What, did the director tell him, "Okay, I want you to reimagine the first time you ever fell in love and just mutiply that by like a hundred, got it?" Apparently the idea of such intense love makes Pattinson extremely nauseous. And creepy. He was staring at whatsherface harder than a pedophile at a playground.
The whole movie seemed like a bunch of pieces from better works taped shittily together, with no substance running underneath it. Basically a film montage with especially awful effects. I mean, come on, they glitter like fucking diamonds in the sun? What's the point of that? The only reason in that case that they wouldn't want to go into the sun is so regular humans wouldn't catch on. Imagine Edward Cullen at a rave. He would get so much kandi.
Afterward I read this article that discussed the obvious references in the Twilight books to the author's personal beliefs. It mentioned something about her being Mormon, and not believing in premarital sex, etc. Basically, ultra-conservative. Totally explains why Edward won't bang Bella. Not because he's afraid of losing control and suckin' her blood, but because OH NOES they're only seventeen and totally not married. Of course, being a woman, Bella has to tempt Edward constantly because she is the only one who ignites the fire in his loins. Or whatever. The only heat I could see between them was pure lust. They're horny fucking teenagers; you really think one of them being a vampire would change that? They're certainly not in love. They have absolutely nothing in common and don't have any real conversations; these two can't even give off that "soulmates" vibe you get in other romance movies. They just kinda claw at each other like sex addicts in like one scene. I get the feeling the author herself is pretty sexually frustrated by the limits of her religion/life. I know I was feeling that way watching the heavy heavy lust and complete lack of action. Just DO it already!! At least kiss! What, not even some tongue??
One scene that struck both of us as unintentionally hilarious was when all these dumb kids are at the beach hanging out and one of the less-than-minor male characters starts chasing one of the less-than-minor female characters with one of those gigantic long pieces of kelp and I screamed "SEA PENIS!! LET ME SLITHER THROUGH YOUR KELP BEDS!"
H'okay, so, there's this pretty young woman who, of course, just has to move to some shit town with her emotionally distant father (though this guy's acting was actually just bad). Naturally the reader/audience is given the impression that she's a bit of a social outcast, but somehow a whole clique is magically drawn to her and BOOM you have Instant Friends! Of course, the actress sucks so much that what I presume to her social awkwardness comes out as complete indifference to these people who are so desperate to kiss her ass. Then enters Impossibly Hot Guy. I not ashamed to admit that I thought Robert Pattinson was totally hot until I saw this movie. But seriously? If I saw a guy throw up in his mouth at the mere sight of me I would be turned off so instantly. Is that Pattinson's idea of conveying love at first sight? What, did the director tell him, "Okay, I want you to reimagine the first time you ever fell in love and just mutiply that by like a hundred, got it?" Apparently the idea of such intense love makes Pattinson extremely nauseous. And creepy. He was staring at whatsherface harder than a pedophile at a playground.
The whole movie seemed like a bunch of pieces from better works taped shittily together, with no substance running underneath it. Basically a film montage with especially awful effects. I mean, come on, they glitter like fucking diamonds in the sun? What's the point of that? The only reason in that case that they wouldn't want to go into the sun is so regular humans wouldn't catch on. Imagine Edward Cullen at a rave. He would get so much kandi.
Afterward I read this article that discussed the obvious references in the Twilight books to the author's personal beliefs. It mentioned something about her being Mormon, and not believing in premarital sex, etc. Basically, ultra-conservative. Totally explains why Edward won't bang Bella. Not because he's afraid of losing control and suckin' her blood, but because OH NOES they're only seventeen and totally not married. Of course, being a woman, Bella has to tempt Edward constantly because she is the only one who ignites the fire in his loins. Or whatever. The only heat I could see between them was pure lust. They're horny fucking teenagers; you really think one of them being a vampire would change that? They're certainly not in love. They have absolutely nothing in common and don't have any real conversations; these two can't even give off that "soulmates" vibe you get in other romance movies. They just kinda claw at each other like sex addicts in like one scene. I get the feeling the author herself is pretty sexually frustrated by the limits of her religion/life. I know I was feeling that way watching the heavy heavy lust and complete lack of action. Just DO it already!! At least kiss! What, not even some tongue??
One scene that struck both of us as unintentionally hilarious was when all these dumb kids are at the beach hanging out and one of the less-than-minor male characters starts chasing one of the less-than-minor female characters with one of those gigantic long pieces of kelp and I screamed "SEA PENIS!! LET ME SLITHER THROUGH YOUR KELP BEDS!"
8.13.2009
Art School = More Cunts. I Mean Artists.
Every time I read a comic with good style and writing, I feel that much more compelled to make my own. In middle school the only comics I read were manga, so of course I wanted to make manga. Yes, I was one of those white kids who kinda wanted to be Japanese, if being Japanese was really like it was represented in the comics (which I suspect now it isn't). I mean, helloooooo their box lunches are like way cooler than American kids' box lunches, for fuck's sake!
My issue with making comics is the same as my issue with writing a story long enough to become a book: I can't keep going. I can't come up with a story that interests me enough to stick with it. ESPECIALLY because drawing all those panels and speech bubbles is such a pain in the ass. The most I could do would be one strip at a time, like a newspaper comic (and we all know how great those are), with characters based on (read, "ripped off") real life. Last night before I was about to pass out (which seems to be the only time I come up with awesome ideas) I kept thinking of funny strips of Kate and me. It was stuff that wasn't actually based on real life events, but wouldn't be too far off the mark. Except now I can't remember most of them, aside from one where we start screaming about free pie.
Thing is, I wonder if going to art school would really get my proverbial ball rolling. It's kind've cool to be in a room full of other weird, arty-type people. One of my friends told me that meeting other artists would be a good way to improve. Of course, with artists, as with most other things, really, there's always that underlying current of competition. I could probably use that kind of motivation, though.
My issue with making comics is the same as my issue with writing a story long enough to become a book: I can't keep going. I can't come up with a story that interests me enough to stick with it. ESPECIALLY because drawing all those panels and speech bubbles is such a pain in the ass. The most I could do would be one strip at a time, like a newspaper comic (and we all know how great those are), with characters based on (read, "ripped off") real life. Last night before I was about to pass out (which seems to be the only time I come up with awesome ideas) I kept thinking of funny strips of Kate and me. It was stuff that wasn't actually based on real life events, but wouldn't be too far off the mark. Except now I can't remember most of them, aside from one where we start screaming about free pie.
Thing is, I wonder if going to art school would really get my proverbial ball rolling. It's kind've cool to be in a room full of other weird, arty-type people. One of my friends told me that meeting other artists would be a good way to improve. Of course, with artists, as with most other things, really, there's always that underlying current of competition. I could probably use that kind of motivation, though.
8.09.2009
An Open Letter
...to the man who called me a bitch.
I really don't understand your animosity, sir. You come in to my place of work with a large group of adults and a pack of loud, unruly children, all demanding ice cream. I serve you as patiently as I can while you try not to lose your temper at the indecisive ones.
In general, it is an unwritten law that parents are responsible for their children in public places, such as retail stores, doctors' offices, cafes, restaurants, etc. It is also an unwritten law that parents must teach their children not to take things that don't belong to them without permission, that is, steal.
We like to give out little paper umbrellas sometimes to kids, or on a sandwich if we're feeling whimsical. We keep these little paper umbrellas behind a glass where we keep other little things, such as salt and pepper, a bottle of tapatio sauce, or wooden stakes for sandwiches. What usually happens, sir, and this is what I was trying to tell you, is that a child will notice said umbrellas and will ask for one. Or, if the child is too shy, a parent will ask. This is because most parents try to teach their children to have manners. It is possible, sir, believe, I have seen it done with my own eyes, heard their little pleases and thank yous with my own ears.
Frankly, I was rather surprised that you didn't understand the problem when I was protesting against the three or four little boys you were responsible for reaching their dirty hands over the glass and all over every umbrella, trying to grab the right colors. This surprise may have translated badly when I said, "It's just that most people usually ask." The words themselves could easily seem snotty, but my tone was meant to be as neutral as possible, all factors taken into account. And really, your excuse, "They're only five, what do you expect?" was rather weak. By the time a child is five, he should be aware that stealing is not right. Your excuse surprised me even more; surely you were sensible of what was going on? Apparently not. I don't quite understand what's so difficult about the situation I have recounted above. I would assume parents try to teach their children to have respect for other people's property.
I would also assume a good father wouldn't want to raise his sons to think of women as bitches.
Sir, I must say, you are the type of man who makes my reproductive organs shrivel into hard little pits. You do not represent fathers very well, and you especially fail at being a real man. It's a rather hackneyed phrase but really, men like you do make me lose faith in the human race. If you were having a bad day, I don't understand how belittling a young woman like me would make it any better. Does your wife actually like you? Do your children? Are you trying to raise your own special race of assholes? You're doing a fine job, if that be the case.
To close off, if you ever come in to my place of work again while I'm there, I will be sure to give you a demonstration of what a bitch really is. You will need your testicles.
Sincerely,
the Bitch
I really don't understand your animosity, sir. You come in to my place of work with a large group of adults and a pack of loud, unruly children, all demanding ice cream. I serve you as patiently as I can while you try not to lose your temper at the indecisive ones.
In general, it is an unwritten law that parents are responsible for their children in public places, such as retail stores, doctors' offices, cafes, restaurants, etc. It is also an unwritten law that parents must teach their children not to take things that don't belong to them without permission, that is, steal.
We like to give out little paper umbrellas sometimes to kids, or on a sandwich if we're feeling whimsical. We keep these little paper umbrellas behind a glass where we keep other little things, such as salt and pepper, a bottle of tapatio sauce, or wooden stakes for sandwiches. What usually happens, sir, and this is what I was trying to tell you, is that a child will notice said umbrellas and will ask for one. Or, if the child is too shy, a parent will ask. This is because most parents try to teach their children to have manners. It is possible, sir, believe, I have seen it done with my own eyes, heard their little pleases and thank yous with my own ears.
Frankly, I was rather surprised that you didn't understand the problem when I was protesting against the three or four little boys you were responsible for reaching their dirty hands over the glass and all over every umbrella, trying to grab the right colors. This surprise may have translated badly when I said, "It's just that most people usually ask." The words themselves could easily seem snotty, but my tone was meant to be as neutral as possible, all factors taken into account. And really, your excuse, "They're only five, what do you expect?" was rather weak. By the time a child is five, he should be aware that stealing is not right. Your excuse surprised me even more; surely you were sensible of what was going on? Apparently not. I don't quite understand what's so difficult about the situation I have recounted above. I would assume parents try to teach their children to have respect for other people's property.
I would also assume a good father wouldn't want to raise his sons to think of women as bitches.
Sir, I must say, you are the type of man who makes my reproductive organs shrivel into hard little pits. You do not represent fathers very well, and you especially fail at being a real man. It's a rather hackneyed phrase but really, men like you do make me lose faith in the human race. If you were having a bad day, I don't understand how belittling a young woman like me would make it any better. Does your wife actually like you? Do your children? Are you trying to raise your own special race of assholes? You're doing a fine job, if that be the case.
To close off, if you ever come in to my place of work again while I'm there, I will be sure to give you a demonstration of what a bitch really is. You will need your testicles.
Sincerely,
the Bitch
8.05.2009
Barbie's Feet Are Kinda Freaky, Anyway
Something that bugs me often is the sheer amount of obviously insecure people. By which I mean people who are quick to make sure everyone around is made extremely uncomfortable by the depths of their insecurity. You know the type. Women who, when you make them a nice meal, can't help joking about how fattening it is and how much they'll have to work out to make up for it the next day. There's little doubt that, underneath the smile, they're dead serious. Or the men who are prone to complaining bitterly about their own weight or their inability to get a girlfriend. Mostly I've known women who, while seeming to merely acknowledge their flaws, are actually pointing them out, putting up road signs and flashing lights where no one else notices anything. It's been said that if you keep saying "I'm fat I'm fat I'm fat," eventually others will also believe you're fat.
One other thing. Women who wear heels improperly. Very few can pull them off the way they're meant to be done. Many of those few can do it because they've been wearing heels so long they can no longer wear flats. The rest of us, however, are aware heels are hot and make most anyone's legs look shapely and glamorous, but we fail at pulling it off. It makes me cringe inside when I see some woman attempting to stride elegantly down the street and failing even to unbend her knees all the way. You know the walk: pinched toes, the balls of your feet swollen, arches splintering, resulting in a feeble crab walk that is reminiscent of a white person using chopsticks for the very first time. It's the walk of an eighty year-old woman who's had too many children and suffers from the worst sort of arthritis.
The thing is, if you can't do it, don't do it. You can do so much better than those six inch heels. Your pain is not sexy. Accept this, and you just might be able to run away from those potential muggers and rapists.
One other thing. Women who wear heels improperly. Very few can pull them off the way they're meant to be done. Many of those few can do it because they've been wearing heels so long they can no longer wear flats. The rest of us, however, are aware heels are hot and make most anyone's legs look shapely and glamorous, but we fail at pulling it off. It makes me cringe inside when I see some woman attempting to stride elegantly down the street and failing even to unbend her knees all the way. You know the walk: pinched toes, the balls of your feet swollen, arches splintering, resulting in a feeble crab walk that is reminiscent of a white person using chopsticks for the very first time. It's the walk of an eighty year-old woman who's had too many children and suffers from the worst sort of arthritis.
The thing is, if you can't do it, don't do it. You can do so much better than those six inch heels. Your pain is not sexy. Accept this, and you just might be able to run away from those potential muggers and rapists.
7.29.2009
This Is The Song That Never Ends
Today Kate and I were hanging out chatting about whatever. I could see this guy out the corner of my eye, slightly glancing at us, but it was one of those things you dismiss without thinking very hard. Then suddenly there he was, right next to me, wanting my opinion on something. He paused, as though somehow he'd forgotten what he wanted to say, and then asked if we thought a man who curled his sideburns would look gay. Kate and I proceeded to answer without really answering, that is, well, depends on the outfit, he'd probably look like a rabbi, maybe if he was a J-pop star, etc, but our witty banter seemed only to make him more uncomfortable, until finally he said, "take care," and hurried away. I don't know if he was trying to make conversation with two attractive young women, or if he genuinely wanted to know our opinion. If it was the latter, then he was probably inspired to ask since I myself have curly sideburns and must, therefore, be an expert on who should have them and who should not.
Of course, that wasn't nearly as interesting as Kate's story about the weird-ass woman who followed her around the dog park, but that's her story to tell, not mine.
Completely different topic, but I watched Meet Joe Black the other night, and I think the entire world should know my thoughts on it. Be warned, total spoilers ahead.
Okay, I did have a big review all typed out, but then I realized I was rambling. Plus I got distracted looking up pictures of Claire Forlani and Claire Danes on Google. Then I got indignant at some website that said Claire Danes' nose looks much less bulbous and protuberant since she got plastic surgery on it. Aaaaaanyway.
Yeah that's it.
Of course, that wasn't nearly as interesting as Kate's story about the weird-ass woman who followed her around the dog park, but that's her story to tell, not mine.
Completely different topic, but I watched Meet Joe Black the other night, and I think the entire world should know my thoughts on it. Be warned, total spoilers ahead.
Okay, I did have a big review all typed out, but then I realized I was rambling. Plus I got distracted looking up pictures of Claire Forlani and Claire Danes on Google. Then I got indignant at some website that said Claire Danes' nose looks much less bulbous and protuberant since she got plastic surgery on it. Aaaaaanyway.
Yeah that's it.
7.27.2009
Mess of Beer and Bodies
A review of last night's show:
AWESOME.
Ty Segall at the Parkside was one hot, sweaty, beer-soaked mess. He went on first, for which Kate and I were much relieved. It's pretty fucking annoying when the act you came specifically to see doesn't go on till the wee hours of the morning. As it was, the show started about an hour and a half later than expected, but there he was, alive and breathing and screaming and yipping into the mic. The sound check consisted of him whooping and yelping and making funny faces from under his blond curls. He's very good live, so good in fact, that two or three or four guys thought it would be totally bitchin' to start moshing already. Unfortunately, the rest of us weren't quite amped up/drunk enough yet to join in, except for Dumb Drunk Bitch, who shook her tits and her stomach and stumbled and fell into them and us repeatedly. Kate got elbowed pretty pretty viciously by one flying asshole, and anytime one of them came at us, we shoved and punched and knocked them right back.
By the third band, oh boy. Some hot ladies screaming lustily at us, as we watched and moshed, slicked over with sweat and adrenaline. During one song, the pit got so intense I was actually sucked in, jumping up and down, bashing fools left and right, completely indiscriminate, my big red hoops swinging wildly from my ears. That was also when Kate got carried away into the depths of the crowd. When I finally got my head above to breathe, she was nowhere in sight, and I couldn't tell if the people smiling at me when I looked around thought I was cool or a total fuckwad loser. After a few songs she managed to wade her way back to where she'd been before, to my immense relief.
Alas, my plans for seducing Mr. Segall failed, though I came close to grabbing his butt when we walked behind him before he went on. I stopped myself, figuring it probably wasn't the time or place. Still, having a semi-famous guy right there is kind've exciting. Apparently whatever pheramones I'd intended to release into his face lay dormant until the third band, Mika Miko (also bitchin'), came on, when this sleazy-ass motherfucker somehow forced Kate away so he could stand next to me and ogle me with disturbing intensity while I was rocking out. It was when I started moshing that he, like Kate, got pulled away, but thankfully he didn't find his way back. Maybe he saw me punching those crazy fuckers and got scared.
The end of it was us being too wrecked to rock any longer and we caught a bus out of there.
Can you say whoa-oh?
AWESOME.
Ty Segall at the Parkside was one hot, sweaty, beer-soaked mess. He went on first, for which Kate and I were much relieved. It's pretty fucking annoying when the act you came specifically to see doesn't go on till the wee hours of the morning. As it was, the show started about an hour and a half later than expected, but there he was, alive and breathing and screaming and yipping into the mic. The sound check consisted of him whooping and yelping and making funny faces from under his blond curls. He's very good live, so good in fact, that two or three or four guys thought it would be totally bitchin' to start moshing already. Unfortunately, the rest of us weren't quite amped up/drunk enough yet to join in, except for Dumb Drunk Bitch, who shook her tits and her stomach and stumbled and fell into them and us repeatedly. Kate got elbowed pretty pretty viciously by one flying asshole, and anytime one of them came at us, we shoved and punched and knocked them right back.
By the third band, oh boy. Some hot ladies screaming lustily at us, as we watched and moshed, slicked over with sweat and adrenaline. During one song, the pit got so intense I was actually sucked in, jumping up and down, bashing fools left and right, completely indiscriminate, my big red hoops swinging wildly from my ears. That was also when Kate got carried away into the depths of the crowd. When I finally got my head above to breathe, she was nowhere in sight, and I couldn't tell if the people smiling at me when I looked around thought I was cool or a total fuckwad loser. After a few songs she managed to wade her way back to where she'd been before, to my immense relief.
Alas, my plans for seducing Mr. Segall failed, though I came close to grabbing his butt when we walked behind him before he went on. I stopped myself, figuring it probably wasn't the time or place. Still, having a semi-famous guy right there is kind've exciting. Apparently whatever pheramones I'd intended to release into his face lay dormant until the third band, Mika Miko (also bitchin'), came on, when this sleazy-ass motherfucker somehow forced Kate away so he could stand next to me and ogle me with disturbing intensity while I was rocking out. It was when I started moshing that he, like Kate, got pulled away, but thankfully he didn't find his way back. Maybe he saw me punching those crazy fuckers and got scared.
The end of it was us being too wrecked to rock any longer and we caught a bus out of there.
Can you say whoa-oh?
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