Thursday, November 29, 2007

Dumb

Currently Listening To: Better Already by Northern State
It may be really cocky to say this, but, well, I definitely think (so would that mean I know?) that I am bigger than high school. Above it. Whatever. Busy work, dress codes, internet filters, time-wasting this-and-that... I'm done with it. I mean, I'm not done with it; that won't be for about six more months. But mentally, I've moved past the point where I feel comfortable having people tell me that I lack the intellectual capacity to dress myself and occupy myself.

I'm also done with grades. Specifically, teachers putting in one grade that, at the end of the term will be meaningless because of all the other grades, but right now is my only one in the class, meaning that, once more, I am failing Spanish. I can't read ye olde poetry in English. Reading a poem written in ye olde Spanishe? No sir. So of course, I got a "What's the deal here?" when I got home, resulting in a "go to coach class." Teachers love to use that as a conversation-finisher, but the truth is, 9 times out of 10, coach class isno help whatsoever. Most of the time I get straight up ignored. Either the teacher prefers certain students in the class, or doesn't seem to care at all about the students in a given course. But still, "Why weren't you in coach class?"

High school is dumb. It only took me four years to realize it.

Monday, November 26, 2007

I'm Not An Inmate, I'm French, Damnit

Currently Listening To: Music Is My Hot, Hot Sex by CSS, which, I might add, I downloaded two weeks before I saw the iPod commercial.
And now I'm listening to Living in America by the Sounds, which, by the way, isn't about how awful America is, you ginger dope.
Ah, driving. I love to drive. It's probably the most relaxing thing I can think of. Except, of course, when other people get involved.
  • Bitch in a Lexus riding my ass. Just because your car is sleek and sexy and fast doesn't mean you should try and hitch a ride on my bumper. Sleek, sexy and fast mean nothing when your grill is in my backseat.
  • Passengers touching my wares. Just put it in the back, okay? No need to snoop. Last thing I need is anyone find my five bricks of coke and extensive German pornography collection.
  • A certain other driver messing with my seat, mirrors and radio. He's shorter than me, so why is the seat pushed back? The radio's always both off and turned down. PICK ONE. The mirrors? I guess that's forgivable. But the rest? Not at all.
  • Cops hiding with their lights off trying to pull me over when it's pitch-black outside and I almost hit them because my right headlight is out. Pretty cut-and-dry. Let's keep the lights on, Biggun.
  • People on cellphones, or texting, or putting on makeup. I would say, "Can't it wait?", but most of the things being said over those calls and texts are usually pretty inane, so I'd advise those people to just forget it. Same goes for the makeup; you look like a hooker. That's not a good thing. Sure, Jesus rolled with a hooker (or more? I've never actually read that part... or most parts of the Bible. Just what we read in Church), but that's not the same.
  • Radio DJs droning on and on and on and on, and when they DON'T PLAY DAVID BOWIE ON THE RADIO in the mornings. That man is the only reason I can even muster up the strength to get in the car each morning to go to school, and when I don't get my Bo, I can't function.
And in other news... Today must be the anniversary of Michael Richard's racist outburst, because they're talking it up on CNN right now. That's rather ironic because the episode of Seinfeld I saw on TBS today had Kramer falling asleep in a tanning bed and walking around in blackface. Hmf.

And I got some sexy, sexy shoes. I need to find a camera. I mean, seriously, I've never been so obsessed with shoes, but this pair is special. Magical, perhaps?

Saturday, November 24, 2007

This Movie Really PIST Me Off

Currently Listening To: Out of Control (State of Emotion) by Kenna
It's a horrible pun, but I thought of it during the movie (at a point when I still liked it!) and almost died laughing.

Anyways, I saw the Mist. I love Stephen King, I had just read the Mist (in its <200 page glory) and was working on the Stand (which I have now completed all 1200 pages of), so laws yes, I went to go see it. It was quite faithful to the book as we merrily rolled along through a misty day in Maine, and still somewhat faithful through the second and third days of mistiness in Maine.

Then, of course, there was the ending.

LAWS YES, the ending, which I will reveal below.

M-O-O-N, that spells "Frank Darabont what the fuck were you thinking when you made the Punisher murder his son, his lover and the geezers in the backseat, followed thirty seconds later by him finding out he didn't have to?"

I know people say this every time EVERY TIME a book is adapted into a movie, but the book ending was SO MUCH better, and it would have worked! I guess not-so-much in a narrator-free movie, but they could have just shut the projector off when the car ran out of gas and we would have gotten the same effect. Instead, Americuh prevails and a man, after 2 hours and change of courage, turns into a coward who shoots everyone else but not himself.

BOLLOCKS.


'Course, I got $20 out of it. My dad and brother were positive ABSOLUTELY POSITIVE that Ms. Carmody was played by mom #1 in Big Love, but I knew, deep in my heart, it was someone else.

Saturday, November 17, 2007

The War on Thanksgiving

Currently Listening To: Black Tongue by Yeah Yeah Yeahs
I went up stairs a while ago. I was craving ham (there's a large ham in the fridge; I don't know why it is there but it is delicious) so I went up to the kitchen for a ham 'n mustard sammich.

I was greeted with Christmas music. The same Christmas music that has been playing since the first weekend of November, a mere two days after Halloween.

It's no surprise that my sister is playing her music so loud that you can hear it in the kitchen. It's also no surprise that she is playing loud music while watching TV on a high volume. I've come to terms with that which I must endure if I want to live in this house.

But Christmas music? This early? The Christmas season starts on the Friday after Thanksgiving, not the day after Halloween. So I should be good for not hearing Wham! complaining about what he gave his bufu buddy last Christmas and won't be giving him again this year for another week. Instead, I am hearing Wham!
complaining about what he gave his bufu buddy last Christmas and won't be giving him again this year.

People should have more respect for Thanksgiving. It gives everyone an excuse to be fat. And there's stuffing, which is the best food in the world. Seriously. My last meal before they put me in the chair will be a five-course meal of stuffing. First, a stuffing salad. Then a stuffing soup, followed by a stuffing filet with a side of mashed stuffing coated in stuffing gravy. For dessert, stuffing pie. Then the waiter will hand me my bill and a stuffing mint. So yeah, that's why I like Thanksgiving. And because I don't have to hear people bitching about this-or-that about the holiday (war on Christmas, Halloween is evil, Valentine's Day is BS, et cetera). Though I ought to remind everyone that it's a secular holiday, so all the church signs about Thanksgiving are a tad misinformed. Yet no one is running around like a decapitated chicken bemoaning the forgotten spirit of Thanksgiving.

So I'd like to take this time to thank my sister for destroying an American institution, and to give her the bird.

I'm really just complaining because I hate Christmas music. I find it annoying and crappy and corny even on Christmas morning.

And I suppose people do bitch-n-moan about the Indians at Thanksgiving and this stuff about genocide and whatnot. Genocide? More like, stuffing-get-inside. Mmmm. Stuffing.

Another thing about my sister: she's annoying. I get sick and tired of this maligned-middle-schooler crap. We get it; being a suburbanite is tough, what, with her fancy clothes (did I mention that last year, on the day after Thanksgiving, we went shopping as a family and she spent somewhere in the range of TEN TIMES as much as I spent?) and spending-every-waking-moment-on-facebook-listening-to-Christmas-music loud-and-watching-MTV-on-my-parents'-HDTV. Middle school girls are bitchy? Heard it all before... WHEN I WAS IN MIDDLE SCHOOL. I'm quite glad that chapter of my life is over, and I don't plan on reliving it until my children are in middle school, which, considering I don't even have a lady-lover yet, is quite far off in the future.

She was in high-horse mode last night. My dad had just gotten back from a business trip (to Mexico... sounds suspicious) and was giving out the souvenirs he got. For my sisters and mom he got some Mexi0-jewelry, and my youngest sister and mom were going through it to split it up when the whiny sister says, "I'll wait because I'm grateful." A few minutes later, she said something to the effect of "You guys take and the cute stuff and leave me the crappy stuff."

Bitchy to the MAX!

Oooh, now I'm angry. I'm probably going to stop driving her to school. She can find her own damn way. I didn't get driven to school until I was a freshman, why should she get special treatment?

Monday, November 12, 2007

Driving Hell

Currently Watching: Futurama
"When you do things right, people won't be sure you've done anything at all." - God

"I was God once." - Bender
"Yeah, I saw that. You were doing so well until everyone died." - God

I love this episode of Futurama so much; really more than anyone could ever begin to grasp. Just a little FYI.

So today was the first day of exams. I did somewhere in between "the best I've ever done" and "Ryan, we're making you repeat the twelfth grade... after you repeat all the others". I'm okay with that.

I'm not okay with leaving my head lights on for seven hours and having pretty much no gas. I'm especially not okay with calling school security hoping for some sort of assistance and pretty much being told to go fuck myself (not in those words, of course). Security at our school, outside of check-ins and sleeping in the parking lot, does nothing. So is it too much to ask for a ride to a gas station or a jump start, or any sort of "I'm sorry, there's nothing we can do"? "Why would you call us?" was not the ideal answer. Jackasses.

But Claire and Andy and Doug's dad were all there to help, and after a few hours I finally got home. On fumes. Scary-scary.

And the g-d hood won't open. How am I supposed to fix the battery if I can't get to it?

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Every Time I See You Falling, I Get Down On My Knees And Pray

Currently Listening To: Bizarre Love Triangle by New Order

So tomorrow is the beginning of the end of my high school exam taking. This will be the last set of fall exams at Dar. After this I only have winter exams... For the fall, there are only two that I could take (the rest are APs), but my Econ teacher probably wouldn't make me take it even if my grades were that bad and my Graphic Design exam would just be a portfolio...

But I digress. All that matters is that another phase of my youth is being phased out.

I saw a commercial earlier for some wildlife video. It promised something for everyone; animals fighting, animals mating-- Mating? Someone out there called up the company and said, "I'd buy more videos if you had some hedgehogs boning"? I hate this country SO MUCH. Though I suppose its not just America.

WHY? WHY DOES THIS COMMERCIAL PLAGUE MY GRAY MATTER?

In other news, in the month and one week since I've gotten my license, I think I've become infinitely more masculine and horny. I don't really know where I'm going with this. Maybe a warning for the ladies to keep an eye on their pants while around me.

There is no--
This is no--
Modern ro-mance.

We have security check points at school. It's pretty freaking ridiculous. After eight, they close all the gates but one, so to leave from the library parking lot (which I think is the only one I can park in after school; have to park at the gym during school) means you have to drive through pretty much the entire campus, which takes quite some time when you're going the 3 mph it takes to get over the cascade of speed bumps without destroying my car. THEN, after facing all kinds of going-the-other-way traffic on a one-lane road, I have to register my tag/parking sticker and tell them why I'm there. It takes forever. It's overkill, too; if I really wanted to get onto the campus undetected, I'd just drive through the tunnel from the gym. They put up some concrete cones so you can't do that, but there's totally enough space to get by them, so they wasted some concrete/time. I might try that.

Friday, November 09, 2007

Good/Bad

Currently Listening To: Cellphone's Dead by Beck
Good: Didn't oversleep this morning.
Bad: Had to go outside 20 minutes earlier than normal to get ice off of car (esqueeze me, but this is Georgia and we're in a drought... this shouldn't be happening)
Good: David Bowie on the way to school
Bad: Almost wrecked into my English teacher
Good: Ate a waffle.
Bad: Lost at Whammy in AP Stats (we play simulated gambling games rather than actually learn)
Good: Run panicking into college office only to find out that the college fairy had already dealt with my recommendations
Bad: Dan In Real Life sucks... The projector wonked out halfway through and Adrienne and I didn't even bother telling the manager for free passes... We just left.
Good: Asking Walmart employee where they shelf their man thongs.
Bad: Awkward conversation with mom, in front of her friends, concerning "lady-friend".

I report. You decide. Good day, or bad day?

Despite the English teacher and Dan-In-Real-Life incidents, the college this makes the day a victory... I was losing serious sleep over that damn common application, so to find out that my shazbot had already been mailed in was a gift from above.

Or below. It's always possible Satan willed it into action.

Monday, November 05, 2007

Illin' Like A Villain

Currently Listening To: Little Angel by Hard-FI
As I type this, at this very second, happening parallel to rising tensions in Pakistan, writers' striking in LA, husbands coming home from to work hug their wives & beat their childrens and car chases resulting in highly stylized explosions, I am sick. I realize that everything else is irrelevant. I am on my death bed, coughing up blood as the TB slowly claims my little body...

Okay, so it's not that bad; I had suspected strep (because I get it EVERY SINGLE YEAR, WITHOUT FAIL), but a visit to the doctor turned up some shenanigans about a virus and congestion or something. I just smiled and nodded while being told this, holding out my hand in time to have it filled with pills-- Halloween came four days late! Or three hundred sixty one days early. Take your pick.

But my illness did not prevent me from seeing 30 Days of Night on Saturday, which was the source of two complaints, neither of which have ANYTHING to do with that fantastic movie:
  • Trailer for "The Mist", which ruined my reading of the book, seeing as they confirmed something that, at the point I was at in the book, was only speculation. Thanks, bastards. I even had my eyes closed so as not to ruin it, but... And my dad thought I was scared... Really? I mean, seriously?
  • Fat bitch in back row, bringing with her FOUR CHILDREN, none of whom could have been older than three. In case you're unaware, which I can only pray she was, 30 Days of night is about a town cut off from the rest of the world by a pack of vampires hoping to eat everyone in the town. Key words being "vampires" and "eat". Blood is implied, as is gore. Lots of those two. Loud noises and lots of jump-out-at-you kind of things wouldn't be considered out of place. Yet this woman still has the nerve to drag a bunch of babies into this well-earned R-rating. Now, if they were complacent/mute babies, I wouldn't mind. Parenting is up to the parents. But when they spend the entirety of the previews and the first 30 minutes of the movie screaming and crying, there's an issue. Now, if you know me, you know it takes more than a full bladder, and empty drink and a burning theater for me to get up out of my seat, but I was driven to the brink of madness... This is why I hate children. And even after I got the manager to come in, it took the woman maybe ten minutes to get her act together, as well as dragging the stroller down the stairs, hitting EVERY SINGLE STEP. But everyone got a free ticket, so it all worked itself out. Again, my dad didn't have any idea what I was doing... He thought I was up for a piss or something, and someone else complained... NO, dad; I got you and everyone else a free ticket. People of movies 278 theater 13 on Saturday evening, you are welcome.
People just don't know how to go to the movies any more. It saddens me. Ruining the surprises of several horror movies in the trailers (The Mist, One Missed Call, a third one I've forgotten...) and crying babies... This is why movie theaters are dying. Do we really want to watch the fortieth James Bond movie on a home theater screen in however many years? I for one don't. If you do, please go step in front of the nearest train, because we're better off without that kind of attitude.

So basically, nothing's happening in my life right now. And I mean that in the least angsty of ways; just an observation upon re-reading what I've had to complain about.