Currently Listening To: Earthquakes and Sharks by Brandtson
Scrubs love.
So I finally gave blood today. Let me just say, I was terrified. I was in the prep room or whatever and my nurse (is that the right name for that position? I guess so) was like, "Nervous?" and I was all "chyeah y? kthnxbai" and she was like... I don't know, something they measured on the machine was super high. Pulse, bloodpressure, whatever. Then she asked me about all of my escapades of heroin use and gay prostitution in Africa after 1977 and eating beef in the U.K. for more than three months. I was like, "Yes, is it a problem?"
Next thing I know, I'm squeezing a stress ball and she's tapping for veins. TERROR. Needle... BAM. She tells me to squeeze every ten seconds. After a few minutes and a nice glass of the apple jews, she was like, "You're done." YAY! But I wasn't done. Then they had to take some MORE blood to see if I'm cool or not. But I got some free peanut butter crackers (my fave, aside from bufu of course) and another serving of jews.
That was around lunch. This evening was just as eventful... We drove to A-Town and ate dinner at this awesome diner and then drove around, looking at frat houses at tech (dad told us a little about each house: Dungeons and Dragons, assholes, Dungeons, Dungeons, preps, Dungeons...) and fancy houses I dream of raising my two children, Horace Octavius and Mariachi Ulysses, in. And then we drove through a special part of town. A very, very special part of town. The part that makes you want to put on some Melissa Ethridge and cut your hair real short and wear Armani sunglasses.
Yeah, that part of town.
AND I drove a bunch today and yesterday. Like, driving drove. I was out on 41 & 92, and people were honking at me and passing me. I drove to church today... It was madness. We got there like fifteen minutes late. I think I'll have to leave the house at five if I plan on driving myself to school this year.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Phone Calls
Currently Listening To: Angelina by the Bravery
So I got a phone call like two minutes ago... Another call from a blocked number. I answer it and say what one would expect someone to say to someone prank calling him for the millionth time. We're talking all times of day and night. Constant. BUT... This one was different. I finally got a response. Some whiny kid with a high-pitched voice who cannot identify himself but says he's from The Asshole State and that he's been told that unless he apologizes, he's grounded for the summer.
Curious...
And Driver's Ed really, really sucks. As much as I love watching videos of mass carnage on America's roadways (there was this one where a guy stole a van and was speeding down the road, weaving through traffic but then he slams into this other dude and the van flipped over like seven lanes and the driver fell out and got hit by two cars), the guys teaching it are huge assholes (they're football coaches) and it's really boring (six hours a day). The teachers have huge chips on their shoulders towardsa us private school kids; in fact, they're really bitter towards everyone in there. You know what, Coach Cockbag? I don't want to be there either. The state is making us take it. But unlike us, he is being paid to be there. So shut your fucking yap.
I really hate people.
So I got a phone call like two minutes ago... Another call from a blocked number. I answer it and say what one would expect someone to say to someone prank calling him for the millionth time. We're talking all times of day and night. Constant. BUT... This one was different. I finally got a response. Some whiny kid with a high-pitched voice who cannot identify himself but says he's from The Asshole State and that he's been told that unless he apologizes, he's grounded for the summer.
Curious...
And Driver's Ed really, really sucks. As much as I love watching videos of mass carnage on America's roadways (there was this one where a guy stole a van and was speeding down the road, weaving through traffic but then he slams into this other dude and the van flipped over like seven lanes and the driver fell out and got hit by two cars), the guys teaching it are huge assholes (they're football coaches) and it's really boring (six hours a day). The teachers have huge chips on their shoulders towardsa us private school kids; in fact, they're really bitter towards everyone in there. You know what, Coach Cockbag? I don't want to be there either. The state is making us take it. But unlike us, he is being paid to be there. So shut your fucking yap.
I really hate people.
Saturday, June 09, 2007
Let's Get Physical, Physical
Currently Watching: Batman (the Tim Burton one... GOTH KID)
So today, I done got my physical and drug test done fer school. We went to the doc-in-a-box we usually go to up in C-Ville, but today wasn't like all those other times. Why? Because they forgot about me. Yes, they forgot completely about poor little me. I sat in that little room for TWO HOURS after they did the drug test without so much as a knock on the door. Somehow, I managed to slip through the cracks. Which sucked, but not as much as the disappointment I felt when I realized Hot Nurse wasn't going to be involved in the interesting part of the physical. No, no; it's simply too much to ask to have an attractive, dark skinned woman reach into my pants. Doctor Jim Boy Jeb has to do the honors. BALLS TO THAT. No pun intended.
The two hours delay pretty much derailed the rest of the day. We were then late for my dad's appointment at the Red Cross (I was going to give blood too), which put us on the interstate too soon after some asshole decided to ruin everyone's day by being horribly injured in a wreck. Some people are so inconsiderate.
I also drove a bunch today. Almost wrecked a few times... Yelled at my dad for his little tidbits of advice... You know. Fun stuff. I got a lot more comfortable with it, which will make driver's ed next week (and the week after that, I think) a lot easier.
It's still gonna suck, though. Not a whole lot could change that, either.
So today, I done got my physical and drug test done fer school. We went to the doc-in-a-box we usually go to up in C-Ville, but today wasn't like all those other times. Why? Because they forgot about me. Yes, they forgot completely about poor little me. I sat in that little room for TWO HOURS after they did the drug test without so much as a knock on the door. Somehow, I managed to slip through the cracks. Which sucked, but not as much as the disappointment I felt when I realized Hot Nurse wasn't going to be involved in the interesting part of the physical. No, no; it's simply too much to ask to have an attractive, dark skinned woman reach into my pants. Doctor Jim Boy Jeb has to do the honors. BALLS TO THAT. No pun intended.
The two hours delay pretty much derailed the rest of the day. We were then late for my dad's appointment at the Red Cross (I was going to give blood too), which put us on the interstate too soon after some asshole decided to ruin everyone's day by being horribly injured in a wreck. Some people are so inconsiderate.
I also drove a bunch today. Almost wrecked a few times... Yelled at my dad for his little tidbits of advice... You know. Fun stuff. I got a lot more comfortable with it, which will make driver's ed next week (and the week after that, I think) a lot easier.
It's still gonna suck, though. Not a whole lot could change that, either.
Friday, June 08, 2007
Paris Hilton
Currently Crying To: Stranger Than Fiction (starring Will Ferrell, Maggie Gylenhoweveryouspellhername, Queen Latifah and some old people)
I know it kind of damages my image of rugged individualism and apathy to talk about this, but following the Paris Hilton-xanga background debacle and the House of Wax thing, I think I'm in the green on this one.
Three days, obviously, is ridiculous, and I'm glad they're taking her back to jail, but at the same time, 45 days isn't much better. I suppose it never occured to anyone in the California judicial area that she did something not just illegal by driving drunk, but something really, really, REALLY (repeated for emphasis) reckless and dangerous... She drove DRUNK. People could have been hurt, seriously injured... Oh, I don't know, KILLED? DEAD? And it's not like her prison sentence, where they can commute it to house arrest if it's not going well; those people would be dead, in the ground, covered with dirt and sealed in wood. How the FUCK is it fair for Martha Stewart, by selling some stocks using privileged info to make some money that really wouldn't make much of a difference to her, gets a stiffer sentence? Paris very easily could have killed someone (it's about the same as swinging a knife around out in a crowded public space) and she gets 45 days TOPS. Martha spent a year in jail for stealing. Yes, it's wrong, but hurts less people. No once can die when you're manipulating the stock market.
This is bullshit, especially when you see that another woman got off with six years for shooting her husband while he slept. Six years for murder? I wish I were a woman and judges were too afraid to do any serious punishment for fear of being labelled sexist.
I'm sorry, I'm still stuck on the fact that PEOPLE COULD HAVE DIED. DEAD NOT LIVING. LET ME SAY IT AGAIN TO, ONCE MORE, EMPHASIZE: DEAD.
Two words: death penalty. But I'll take it a step further and suggest that they not even say, "We're going to kill you." They should play like Russian Roulette or something with her. She might die, she might not. Hey, just like that time she went driving drunk!
I'd support the death penalty if the methods were analogous to however people committed their crimes. Timothy McVeigh, for instance, would be incinerated. Sadaam would have been gassed, et cetera. And I know people would be like, "That's inhumane", but let's be real for a second: we're executing them. That's not really humane to begin with. Why not spice things up a bit and sell it on Pay Per View?
Maybe a tiger pit would be fun... Has anyone killed someone else with a tiger lately, just so we can do it on him in response?
I know it kind of damages my image of rugged individualism and apathy to talk about this, but following the Paris Hilton-xanga background debacle and the House of Wax thing, I think I'm in the green on this one.
Three days, obviously, is ridiculous, and I'm glad they're taking her back to jail, but at the same time, 45 days isn't much better. I suppose it never occured to anyone in the California judicial area that she did something not just illegal by driving drunk, but something really, really, REALLY (repeated for emphasis) reckless and dangerous... She drove DRUNK. People could have been hurt, seriously injured... Oh, I don't know, KILLED? DEAD? And it's not like her prison sentence, where they can commute it to house arrest if it's not going well; those people would be dead, in the ground, covered with dirt and sealed in wood. How the FUCK is it fair for Martha Stewart, by selling some stocks using privileged info to make some money that really wouldn't make much of a difference to her, gets a stiffer sentence? Paris very easily could have killed someone (it's about the same as swinging a knife around out in a crowded public space) and she gets 45 days TOPS. Martha spent a year in jail for stealing. Yes, it's wrong, but hurts less people. No once can die when you're manipulating the stock market.
This is bullshit, especially when you see that another woman got off with six years for shooting her husband while he slept. Six years for murder? I wish I were a woman and judges were too afraid to do any serious punishment for fear of being labelled sexist.
I'm sorry, I'm still stuck on the fact that PEOPLE COULD HAVE DIED. DEAD NOT LIVING. LET ME SAY IT AGAIN TO, ONCE MORE, EMPHASIZE: DEAD.
Two words: death penalty. But I'll take it a step further and suggest that they not even say, "We're going to kill you." They should play like Russian Roulette or something with her. She might die, she might not. Hey, just like that time she went driving drunk!
I'd support the death penalty if the methods were analogous to however people committed their crimes. Timothy McVeigh, for instance, would be incinerated. Sadaam would have been gassed, et cetera. And I know people would be like, "That's inhumane", but let's be real for a second: we're executing them. That's not really humane to begin with. Why not spice things up a bit and sell it on Pay Per View?
Maybe a tiger pit would be fun... Has anyone killed someone else with a tiger lately, just so we can do it on him in response?
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
School Is Over
Currently Listening To: Oh My God by Kaiser Chiefs
Hooray! I'm a senior now... Which means more work and applying to college... Yay. AND we have to wear uniforms next year, which is likely the largest crock of shit I've EVER heard. I remember, when we were considering the school, sitting in the library watching a slide show, and the speaker would not shut up about not having uniforms. I know a certain school administrater who can take something of mine and put it in something of his.
Are there people out there who actually dress like that? Those uncomfortable pants, shirts with obnoxiously large logos on them... How on earth did a student committee agree to this? Forgive the ultra-nerdy reference, but it's like Darth Vader's running our school and dissolving the senate or something.
I suppose that could have been nerdier if it was a Star Trek reference. Never fear, though; I do not watch Star Trek. I tried one time... I almost died.
Of boredom, of course. I was left wondering how the hell anyone knew what was going on. There were at least a thousand characters on the ship. And it was so boring... All this delegation and politicing. Who wants to watch a show about people negotiating in space? If you find yourself watching something in space, you need scantily clad women and lasers. Nothing else. If something doesn't go wrong almost immediately (and I don't mean a treaty being violated or some boring shit), there's a problem.
Okay. Bye.
Hooray! I'm a senior now... Which means more work and applying to college... Yay. AND we have to wear uniforms next year, which is likely the largest crock of shit I've EVER heard. I remember, when we were considering the school, sitting in the library watching a slide show, and the speaker would not shut up about not having uniforms. I know a certain school administrater who can take something of mine and put it in something of his.
Are there people out there who actually dress like that? Those uncomfortable pants, shirts with obnoxiously large logos on them... How on earth did a student committee agree to this? Forgive the ultra-nerdy reference, but it's like Darth Vader's running our school and dissolving the senate or something.
I suppose that could have been nerdier if it was a Star Trek reference. Never fear, though; I do not watch Star Trek. I tried one time... I almost died.
Of boredom, of course. I was left wondering how the hell anyone knew what was going on. There were at least a thousand characters on the ship. And it was so boring... All this delegation and politicing. Who wants to watch a show about people negotiating in space? If you find yourself watching something in space, you need scantily clad women and lasers. Nothing else. If something doesn't go wrong almost immediately (and I don't mean a treaty being violated or some boring shit), there's a problem.
Okay. Bye.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
A Weekend With The Baptists
Last weekend, I left school early and jumped onto the covered wagon with my mom and sister up to North Carolina. What the fuck is in North Carolina, and why am I there all the time? Well, first of all, the worst part of North Carolina is... Well, I'd guess it's as bad as the worst part of Georgia, and Atlanta is great, but by-and-large, North Carolina's better. Secondly, fuck you.
Well, my mom is really involved with the alumni of the camp she went to/worked at when she was a kid, and so every summer she goes up to help clean up before it opens for the season. I regularly tag along.
...They're Baptists. I'm not. Like, I'm REALLY not. I'm everything the Baptists aren't. So basically, it's an exercise in me not sayign anything for a weekend. I mean, they think "damn" is a bad work if God isn't damning something to hell, and for me, not swearing is not speaking. But it's interesting because it shows that if I ever had to work at like an old folks home or something, I could censor the swearing. And it humanizes the bapists. If I didn't do this, in my mind, they'd just be some ominous organization that I blame everything on. And I usually knock a book or two out. Speaking of which, I was really unimpressed with the most recent Crichton book. It was quite unremarkable.
You may wondering, "What the fuck is an Asteroid Jesus?" Well, I had a dream last Thursday. It was of a man (Jesus) riding an asteroid (Asteroid Jesus) through space. Then, later in the week, I had a dream in math class the he destroyed the world by flying the asteroids through the ozone layer (check the flickr/facebook).
I'm a disturbed young man. I oughta write this shit down.
Well, my mom is really involved with the alumni of the camp she went to/worked at when she was a kid, and so every summer she goes up to help clean up before it opens for the season. I regularly tag along.
...They're Baptists. I'm not. Like, I'm REALLY not. I'm everything the Baptists aren't. So basically, it's an exercise in me not sayign anything for a weekend. I mean, they think "damn" is a bad work if God isn't damning something to hell, and for me, not swearing is not speaking. But it's interesting because it shows that if I ever had to work at like an old folks home or something, I could censor the swearing. And it humanizes the bapists. If I didn't do this, in my mind, they'd just be some ominous organization that I blame everything on. And I usually knock a book or two out. Speaking of which, I was really unimpressed with the most recent Crichton book. It was quite unremarkable.
You may wondering, "What the fuck is an Asteroid Jesus?" Well, I had a dream last Thursday. It was of a man (Jesus) riding an asteroid (Asteroid Jesus) through space. Then, later in the week, I had a dream in math class the he destroyed the world by flying the asteroids through the ozone layer (check the flickr/facebook).
I'm a disturbed young man. I oughta write this shit down.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
I Have Blue Hair
Currently Listening To: Strange Education by the Cinematics
That's right. My hair=half blue. It was going to be on the front, but as Bonnie was testing out colors (on the back), it was decided to just do it all there. I think I like it better on the back. That made it easier to hide from my mother, whom I never realized how much I live in fear of. I had to borrow a hat to wear home to cover it up. She asked why I was wearing a hat (adding that she'd never seen me in a ball cap before) and I told her I wanted to try out being a hat person. I have no idea why she bought it, or why she pretended to buy it (more likely). She probably saw a patch of blue underneath and just decided to let it go. IT's not the first time I've come home covered in ink.
And I'm still stuck on Graduation. I mean, he's going to be gone. He's leaving. After that, he will officially not live at our house any more. GAHFuck. Emo McAngst. I guess I'll just have to take a few road trips, chaknow? After all, it's always been my ambition to be an engineer, right? Especially an engineer who got his degree in Virginia.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Currently Listening To: On Call by Kings of Leon
He's really leaving. Damnit.
I thought I could do it, but I'm starting to doubt that. A lot. He's gonna leave, and we'll see him on Christmas and that's it. And then he'll come back with a wedding date five years later...
My life as I know it ends in its entirety in August.
What's worse is that in a year, I'll be leaving.
But dad's in Budapest. How exciting is that? I sent him with a camera (not mine, so I guess I didn't really send it with him) and orders to bring me some foreign currency. He'll be back on Saturday.
Business? I think not. SKETCH.
He's really leaving. Damnit.
I thought I could do it, but I'm starting to doubt that. A lot. He's gonna leave, and we'll see him on Christmas and that's it. And then he'll come back with a wedding date five years later...
My life as I know it ends in its entirety in August.
What's worse is that in a year, I'll be leaving.
But dad's in Budapest. How exciting is that? I sent him with a camera (not mine, so I guess I didn't really send it with him) and orders to bring me some foreign currency. He'll be back on Saturday.
Business? I think not. SKETCH.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
I CAN'T BREATHE
Currently Listening To: Liquorice Bloosports by Gay Against You (my new favorite band... Sorry Klaxons)
Nonono, not in the emo, my-emotions-are-suffocating-me manner of speaking, but the I-have-allergies-and-even-if-I-liked-nature-I-don't-think-it-would-be-worth-this-to-see-some-flowers way. Fuck this shit. I mean, during the AP Spanish exam today, I kept sneezing and sneezing and I didn't have any tissue so I had to sacrifice useo f my left hand and that's just not very pleasant. Gross, cha'know?
And then not too long ago I was constantly sneezing for at least thirty seconds. Allergies are bullshit. Who the hell thought that was a good idea?
And an even better story: there's a speaking section on the Spanish exam. This requires you to speak into a tape recorder based on these campy little prompts. I have no idea
I work rearry hard to make up great prans,
but nobody ristens, no one understands...
Nonono, not in the emo, my-emotions-are-suffocating-me manner of speaking, but the I-have-allergies-and-even-if-I-liked-nature-I-don't-think-it-would-be-worth-this-to-see-some-flowers way. Fuck this shit. I mean, during the AP Spanish exam today, I kept sneezing and sneezing and I didn't have any tissue so I had to sacrifice useo f my left hand and that's just not very pleasant. Gross, cha'know?
And then not too long ago I was constantly sneezing for at least thirty seconds. Allergies are bullshit. Who the hell thought that was a good idea?
And an even better story: there's a speaking section on the Spanish exam. This requires you to speak into a tape recorder based on these campy little prompts. I have no idea
- Where they buy tape recorders.
- Why they choose to use them rather than a more advanced form of technology.
- How to work one.
This last one is the central plot of my funny story. After the dialogue, the ominous voice on the tape told me to pause and wait for further instruction. I suppose he said to un-pause and I just didn't hear so I forgot all about it. Several minutes later, after babbling on and on in Spanish about some stupid, irrelevant topic, he tells me I'm done. Great. I let go of the 'record' button, but it doesn't seem to do anything.
It had been paused the entire time. Not a single word got recorded. Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.
I work rearry hard to make up great prans,
but nobody ristens, no one understands...
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Driving
Currently Listening To: Chinaberry Tree by Mew
Driving is looking pretty good right now.
I rode the bus every single day this week.
Sweatwagon.
Misery.
The stress of driving and putting your life in the hands of the children in the Japanese sweatshop who built the car is nothing compared to listening to Gretchen Wilson while sticking to your seat.
I've found something worse than death.
Driving is looking pretty good right now.
I rode the bus every single day this week.
Sweatwagon.
Misery.
The stress of driving and putting your life in the hands of the children in the Japanese sweatshop who built the car is nothing compared to listening to Gretchen Wilson while sticking to your seat.
I've found something worse than death.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Prom Was Good.
Currently Watching: Heroes (String Theory)
Dot Com. I had a great time, which was, to say the least, suprising.
OHSHIT OHSHIT OHSHIT HEROES IS AMAZING.
Sorry, I got distracted. When is this show going to be on DVD, with a diamond-encrusted special edition?
Anyways, prom. I wore the most awesome jacket ever. I'll get a picture later. I went with Claire, and we went with Logan and Starla. We had the best prom dinner ever (pizza and Coke) and then went to prom itself, where people marvelled over my fantastijacket and we ate Chick-Fil-A biscuits-aplenty. Then we left after what felt like no time at all but was in fact three hours.
I've pretty much left my little funk. It feels really good. I woke up Sunday morning and I was pretty much floating. I had a good day on Sunday as well. So yeah, now I'm good once more.
OHGODOHGODOHGOD HEROES HEROES HEROES HEROES.
Sorry, I've been typing during commercial breaks. Have you seen this episode? I'm 3/4 the way through and... Oh my God.
So anyways, happy. Yay. But it isn't perpetual happiness. I was really disgruntled on the bus ride home. It was hot, I was sweatty and nasty and my headphones were fucked up. I got off and was irritable. But I finally could explain why I was so angry, which I couldn't have done a week ago. It's not a hopeless anger. It's a regular anger. No longer in despair.
Maybe you're wondering why Heroes is so amazing tonight. Two characters went into the future. Some pretty sick shit is going down. IT'S BACK. Bye.
Dot Com. I had a great time, which was, to say the least, suprising.
OHSHIT OHSHIT OHSHIT HEROES IS AMAZING.
Sorry, I got distracted. When is this show going to be on DVD, with a diamond-encrusted special edition?
Anyways, prom. I wore the most awesome jacket ever. I'll get a picture later. I went with Claire, and we went with Logan and Starla. We had the best prom dinner ever (pizza and Coke) and then went to prom itself, where people marvelled over my fantastijacket and we ate Chick-Fil-A biscuits-aplenty. Then we left after what felt like no time at all but was in fact three hours.
I've pretty much left my little funk. It feels really good. I woke up Sunday morning and I was pretty much floating. I had a good day on Sunday as well. So yeah, now I'm good once more.
OHGODOHGODOHGOD HEROES HEROES HEROES HEROES.
Sorry, I've been typing during commercial breaks. Have you seen this episode? I'm 3/4 the way through and... Oh my God.
So anyways, happy. Yay. But it isn't perpetual happiness. I was really disgruntled on the bus ride home. It was hot, I was sweatty and nasty and my headphones were fucked up. I got off and was irritable. But I finally could explain why I was so angry, which I couldn't have done a week ago. It's not a hopeless anger. It's a regular anger. No longer in despair.
Maybe you're wondering why Heroes is so amazing tonight. Two characters went into the future. Some pretty sick shit is going down. IT'S BACK. Bye.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Play That Funky Music, White Boy
Currently Listening To: Hope Song by Rock Kills Kid
Lately I've been in a huge funk. I've felt really lethargic and apathetic in every aspect of my life. I've stopped bitching (for the most part), I've lost all interest in the spring play (fingers crossed it gets canned before Friday) and I often find myself staring off into nothing. At this point, I'm attributing it to allergies.
We had to come up with our schedules for next year sometime in the past whenever. I walked into the hallowed halls of our fine academic institution telling myself "Two APs, take it easy next year." At 3:30 on whatever that day was (I think it was last Thursday), I held in my hand a sheet with FIVE AP CLASSES written on it. Holy fuck. I think I'm a masochist. Why would I do that to myself? I mean, the science one will fall three when I don't get a three on physics B, but still, FOUR APs? Shit. Eh, I'll change it later.
Prom is tonight. I'm really not sure how I feel about it. Unenthusiastic comes to mind, but then again, that's how I feel about everything.
Oh, the unfounded woes of suburban youth.
Lately I've been in a huge funk. I've felt really lethargic and apathetic in every aspect of my life. I've stopped bitching (for the most part), I've lost all interest in the spring play (fingers crossed it gets canned before Friday) and I often find myself staring off into nothing. At this point, I'm attributing it to allergies.
We had to come up with our schedules for next year sometime in the past whenever. I walked into the hallowed halls of our fine academic institution telling myself "Two APs, take it easy next year." At 3:30 on whatever that day was (I think it was last Thursday), I held in my hand a sheet with FIVE AP CLASSES written on it. Holy fuck. I think I'm a masochist. Why would I do that to myself? I mean, the science one will fall three when I don't get a three on physics B, but still, FOUR APs? Shit. Eh, I'll change it later.
Prom is tonight. I'm really not sure how I feel about it. Unenthusiastic comes to mind, but then again, that's how I feel about everything.
Oh, the unfounded woes of suburban youth.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
In Defense Of Death Proof (SPOILERS for every movie mentioned hereafter)
Currently Listening To: Golden Skans by Klaxons
Out of the seven people who saw Grindhouse, at least four have complained almost non-stop about how boring Death Proof was. Sure, it wasn't as good as Pulp Fiction or Kill Bill, or even the movie that came before it, Planet Terror. But if QT had skimmed over all the inane-yet-at-the-same-tiome-interesting girl talk and cut straight to the (SPOILER) awesome car wreck scene, where poor Jungle Julia learned why to keep your leg in the car at all times, it wouldn't have meant anything. Your're supposed to feel sorry for people who die in slasher movies. That's how you get scared. You're supposed to get attached, and so when you see that leg fly through the air and flop around like a dead fish, you're terrified. You've just spent all this time getting to know the girls, and like that, they're gone.
So shut up.
I saw two movies this weekend. On Friday, I saw In The Land of Women with Claire. It was her suggestion (it was a huge chickflick if ever there was one), but don't tell her that. It was AWFUL. I thought it would be a guilty pleasure-type, but that feeling went away the moment I realized it wasn't a comedy. Not at all. It was the whiniest, most anti-dick movie I've ever seen. It was a Lifetime movie of the week on the big screen. Here's the premise: Adam Brody writes softcore porn. Hot foreign model girlfriend dumps him. Sad. Mom tells him gramma is dying. Sadder. He goes to live with her. Meets rebel-artsy teen nextdoor, as well as her cancer-dying-of mother. They both want him (dad's been cheating). He wants neither. An hour and a half later, he leaves, everyone having learned a little bit about themselves. Except grandma. She's dead.
But then last night... I saw Hot Fuzz with Starla and her boyfriend, who I met for the first time last night. He was a cool guy. Anyways, Hot Fuzz was awesome. It was so much better than Shaun of the Dead, and I loved Shaun of the Dead. It was even gorier than Shaun of the Dead, and funnier to boot. Nick Frost, aside from Masi Oka is probably my favorite actor ever. Danny (his character) was absolutely hysterical. The death scenes were good too. And there was a twist I didn't see coming at all. The entire time, I sat there pointing at one character thinking, "Red herring", and then BAM! My world got rocked. So go see it (if you can find it. Fucking limited release, piss me off...)
But yeah, there we go. A nice movie post. And a rant or two or three.
Out of the seven people who saw Grindhouse, at least four have complained almost non-stop about how boring Death Proof was. Sure, it wasn't as good as Pulp Fiction or Kill Bill, or even the movie that came before it, Planet Terror. But if QT had skimmed over all the inane-yet-at-the-same-tiome-interesting girl talk and cut straight to the (SPOILER) awesome car wreck scene, where poor Jungle Julia learned why to keep your leg in the car at all times, it wouldn't have meant anything. Your're supposed to feel sorry for people who die in slasher movies. That's how you get scared. You're supposed to get attached, and so when you see that leg fly through the air and flop around like a dead fish, you're terrified. You've just spent all this time getting to know the girls, and like that, they're gone.
So shut up.
I saw two movies this weekend. On Friday, I saw In The Land of Women with Claire. It was her suggestion (it was a huge chickflick if ever there was one), but don't tell her that. It was AWFUL. I thought it would be a guilty pleasure-type, but that feeling went away the moment I realized it wasn't a comedy. Not at all. It was the whiniest, most anti-dick movie I've ever seen. It was a Lifetime movie of the week on the big screen. Here's the premise: Adam Brody writes softcore porn. Hot foreign model girlfriend dumps him. Sad. Mom tells him gramma is dying. Sadder. He goes to live with her. Meets rebel-artsy teen nextdoor, as well as her cancer-dying-of mother. They both want him (dad's been cheating). He wants neither. An hour and a half later, he leaves, everyone having learned a little bit about themselves. Except grandma. She's dead.
But then last night... I saw Hot Fuzz with Starla and her boyfriend, who I met for the first time last night. He was a cool guy. Anyways, Hot Fuzz was awesome. It was so much better than Shaun of the Dead, and I loved Shaun of the Dead. It was even gorier than Shaun of the Dead, and funnier to boot. Nick Frost, aside from Masi Oka is probably my favorite actor ever. Danny (his character) was absolutely hysterical. The death scenes were good too. And there was a twist I didn't see coming at all. The entire time, I sat there pointing at one character thinking, "Red herring", and then BAM! My world got rocked. So go see it (if you can find it. Fucking limited release, piss me off...)
But yeah, there we go. A nice movie post. And a rant or two or three.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
This is my 701st post
Currently Listening To: It's Not Over Yet by Klaxons
YAY!
So I just finished watching Saturday Night Live, which had Shia Labeouf and Avril Lavigne. Shia was good, but Avril needs to cheer the fuck up. I mean, I know she's teh uber punkage, but she''s on SNL. The show's kind of a big deal. Maybe you could, you know, show a little enthusiasm? It's taxing to be rich, but just give it a shot.
Not sounding like shit might also be worthy of a go.
Disturbia was good. See it. But preferably without the Narrators. Who are the Narrators? They're the people you usually get in a theater who feel compelled to narrate what's going on. I can deal with the "Oh shit"s and the "Why'd he do that?"s, but when people say things like "There's the killer!", "The phone's out!" and the like, it's pretty painful. Yes, we know that such-and-such happened; we're watching the movie too. I swear, it's like some people have never been to a movie before.
I think it would be more pleasant if movie snobs were Narrators. For example, I read this morning that an orange is a forboding sign in movies (Godfather apparently used it, but I've... Not seen it). movie snob-Narrators would see something like that and not only narrate, stating that there is an orange on the screen, but they would also divinate, by reminding us that the orange means someone is going to die. That way, they're bringing something to the table instead of just stating the glaringly obvious.
I take that back. Obvious isn't sufficient. Major plot points aren't obvious. They're more obvious than obvious. They exist on a level such that it is not possible to be paying any sort of attention to the movie and still be unaware of the happening.
I really hate some people.
YAY!
So I just finished watching Saturday Night Live, which had Shia Labeouf and Avril Lavigne. Shia was good, but Avril needs to cheer the fuck up. I mean, I know she's teh uber punkage, but she''s on SNL. The show's kind of a big deal. Maybe you could, you know, show a little enthusiasm? It's taxing to be rich, but just give it a shot.
Not sounding like shit might also be worthy of a go.
Disturbia was good. See it. But preferably without the Narrators. Who are the Narrators? They're the people you usually get in a theater who feel compelled to narrate what's going on. I can deal with the "Oh shit"s and the "Why'd he do that?"s, but when people say things like "There's the killer!", "The phone's out!" and the like, it's pretty painful. Yes, we know that such-and-such happened; we're watching the movie too. I swear, it's like some people have never been to a movie before.
I think it would be more pleasant if movie snobs were Narrators. For example, I read this morning that an orange is a forboding sign in movies (Godfather apparently used it, but I've... Not seen it). movie snob-Narrators would see something like that and not only narrate, stating that there is an orange on the screen, but they would also divinate, by reminding us that the orange means someone is going to die. That way, they're bringing something to the table instead of just stating the glaringly obvious.
I take that back. Obvious isn't sufficient. Major plot points aren't obvious. They're more obvious than obvious. They exist on a level such that it is not possible to be paying any sort of attention to the movie and still be unaware of the happening.
I really hate some people.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
I HATE EVERYTHING.
Currently Listening To:
My teen-angst switch has finally been... Switched.
That's right; I'm now officially an angsty teen. The kind who thinks of himself as a martyr; my suburban drama outweighs all the strife in the world today. My strife being that my Spanish teacher is a tyrannical bitch. Less than twelve hours before the end of the gradin period (which decides if you're in study hall or not), she put in a zero for a homework I forgot to do/turn in. As a test grade. My grade dropped 30 points. Needless to say, I was no longer passing. I see this at about 11 that night, with the grading period ending at 9 the next morning. I stay up until 1 doing it and send it in. She receives the e-mail before the deadline, but can't get on a computer. So I miss the 9 a.m. gradelock. Okay, I can deal; not her fault. But when asked if she would excuse everyone who had this happen (I wasn't the only one) from study hall, she said no; we could use it to study for Spanish.
Bitch.
My free period is the one time in the day when I can hang out with Starla and Claire and Annie. But for three or so weeks, I get to spend that time sitting in a classroom doing less homework than I normally do. The level of productivity is literally zilch. AND I SHOULDN'T EVEN BE IN THERE. MY GRADE ARE FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC. NO GRADE BELOW A B. THIS IS FUCKING RIDICULOUS. I'm a fairly good student. I've never been in study hall before. My SATs are good and I've got a decent class rank. And for thirteen hours last week, I was failing a class. I forget to do an assignment and because of this, I lose my free period for three weeks. That's bullshit.
This pretty much beought my entire week down. Everything that isn't great just feels like a kick in the balls now. I hate everything. I'm irritable and I just don't care hwat anyone has to say.
Fuck this shit.
My teen-angst switch has finally been... Switched.
That's right; I'm now officially an angsty teen. The kind who thinks of himself as a martyr; my suburban drama outweighs all the strife in the world today. My strife being that my Spanish teacher is a tyrannical bitch. Less than twelve hours before the end of the gradin period (which decides if you're in study hall or not), she put in a zero for a homework I forgot to do/turn in. As a test grade. My grade dropped 30 points. Needless to say, I was no longer passing. I see this at about 11 that night, with the grading period ending at 9 the next morning. I stay up until 1 doing it and send it in. She receives the e-mail before the deadline, but can't get on a computer. So I miss the 9 a.m. gradelock. Okay, I can deal; not her fault. But when asked if she would excuse everyone who had this happen (I wasn't the only one) from study hall, she said no; we could use it to study for Spanish.
Bitch.
My free period is the one time in the day when I can hang out with Starla and Claire and Annie. But for three or so weeks, I get to spend that time sitting in a classroom doing less homework than I normally do. The level of productivity is literally zilch. AND I SHOULDN'T EVEN BE IN THERE. MY GRADE ARE FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC. NO GRADE BELOW A B. THIS IS FUCKING RIDICULOUS. I'm a fairly good student. I've never been in study hall before. My SATs are good and I've got a decent class rank. And for thirteen hours last week, I was failing a class. I forget to do an assignment and because of this, I lose my free period for three weeks. That's bullshit.
This pretty much beought my entire week down. Everything that isn't great just feels like a kick in the balls now. I hate everything. I'm irritable and I just don't care hwat anyone has to say.
Fuck this shit.
Monday, April 09, 2007
How Does It Feel To Treat Me Like You Do?
Currently Listening To: Blue Monday by Orgy (I secretly dream of one day having ever cover of this song ever recorded on my computer)
Easter break, tragically, ends today. As I said before, this is a tragedy. Why? Because that means tomorrow, at 6:30, I will be awake. MEHHH.
I've come to the conclusion that my apprehensiveness of college aside, I am without a doubt looking forward to getting away from my sisters. I love them to death, but they're really fucking annoying. That's really the moral of this blog; "Ryan can't stand being with his sisters". All they do is talk and talk and, to be blunt, I don't care. They could be talking about what happened at school or what their friends said at lunch today or their dance classes; I just don't care. And the enlightened middle school input in every discussion gets old. Guess what? You have no idea what you're talking about. Not about prom, or dating, or what guys like to wear; none of that. Give up.
This seems/is infinitely mean-spirited, but it seems like either they've gotten worse or my tolerance of their shit has gone to shit.
My brother is yelling at his vidyogame and it's really stressing me out. I'm concerned.
Easter break, tragically, ends today. As I said before, this is a tragedy. Why? Because that means tomorrow, at 6:30, I will be awake. MEHHH.
I've come to the conclusion that my apprehensiveness of college aside, I am without a doubt looking forward to getting away from my sisters. I love them to death, but they're really fucking annoying. That's really the moral of this blog; "Ryan can't stand being with his sisters". All they do is talk and talk and, to be blunt, I don't care. They could be talking about what happened at school or what their friends said at lunch today or their dance classes; I just don't care. And the enlightened middle school input in every discussion gets old. Guess what? You have no idea what you're talking about. Not about prom, or dating, or what guys like to wear; none of that. Give up.
This seems/is infinitely mean-spirited, but it seems like either they've gotten worse or my tolerance of their shit has gone to shit.
My brother is yelling at his vidyogame and it's really stressing me out. I'm concerned.
Sunday, April 08, 2007
Finger Puppets
It's quite bizarre, this collection of mine. Don't even ask, you wouldn't understand. BUT, you would buy them here. I got Buddha, Che and Frida on the Maine trip (damn, that was two years ago. Frightening). I got Bush, Kim Jong-Il, Saddam and Khamenei in an "Axis of Evil" box in Little Five Points in February. I bought Gandhi at Disney over Sprag Breek. I got Karl Marx, Teddy Roosevelt, Joan of Arc and Napoleon and the Authors set (Shakespeare, Dickens, Virginia Woolf and Tolstoy) today, for Easter. So yes, I am 16 and I still get toys as gifts. Sad? A little. But then again, you've never made a pornographic puppet show starring Buddha as a sex therapist helping the failing marriage between Che Guevara and Frida Khalo, now have you?
That's what I thought.
Saturday, April 07, 2007
Sunday, April 01, 2007
I Get The Feeling...
Currently Watching: Scrubs
...That Grindhouse will come to be known as the greatest film ever. It will sweep the Oscars, winning every award. Statues will be built to commemorate it, and politicians will run using their involvment in the film as a platform. It will cure every disease, end world hunger and bring about world peace. It will part the oceans and realign the constellations. In the future, when the last copy of the film is finally lost, the world...
...Will end.
GRINDHOUSE.
IT IS EVERYTHING.
...That Grindhouse will come to be known as the greatest film ever. It will sweep the Oscars, winning every award. Statues will be built to commemorate it, and politicians will run using their involvment in the film as a platform. It will cure every disease, end world hunger and bring about world peace. It will part the oceans and realign the constellations. In the future, when the last copy of the film is finally lost, the world...
...Will end.
GRINDHOUSE.
IT IS EVERYTHING.
Last.fm (clickies)
Currently Listening To: Munich by Editors
I know I'm not exactly on the cutting edge here, but I just signed up for this site. It looked interesting enough, and it claims to help find new bands to listen to, which is something I often try and fail at. If you've got one, add me. My name is knifeyjames.
I was gonna go see HelloGoodbye today at Centennial, but it was raining. April showers... Man, fuck April showers. I wanted to go see hellogoodbye for free. How often is someone presented with an opportunity like that? And these 'cloud' assholes have to go and screw things up. Fuck the weather.
Rain actually isn't all bad. Except when it fucks up my plans. Pollen, on the other hand, is never good. Flowers? Fuck flowers. Pollen is one-hundred percent inconvenient.
The Kaiser Chiefs CD is excellent. Pure, sweet and undilluted excellence. Mmmmmmmm.
Prom is in less than a month. I am dreading this ridiculous celebration of nothing. Corsages for the ladies, buying/renting a tux, dinner plans. Argh. This is agravating. I know it sounds stupid, but I really have to go. Theym ake all the juniors do work on it, and that would be even stupider for me to help out with it and not go.
And for some reason, when I tell people that I'm going with a group rather than with one person, it's like I've got green skin or something. They're like, "...Huh? Is that even possible?" YARGH.
PIRATA.
I know I'm not exactly on the cutting edge here, but I just signed up for this site. It looked interesting enough, and it claims to help find new bands to listen to, which is something I often try and fail at. If you've got one, add me. My name is knifeyjames.
I was gonna go see HelloGoodbye today at Centennial, but it was raining. April showers... Man, fuck April showers. I wanted to go see hellogoodbye for free. How often is someone presented with an opportunity like that? And these 'cloud' assholes have to go and screw things up. Fuck the weather.
Rain actually isn't all bad. Except when it fucks up my plans. Pollen, on the other hand, is never good. Flowers? Fuck flowers. Pollen is one-hundred percent inconvenient.
The Kaiser Chiefs CD is excellent. Pure, sweet and undilluted excellence. Mmmmmmmm.
Prom is in less than a month. I am dreading this ridiculous celebration of nothing. Corsages for the ladies, buying/renting a tux, dinner plans. Argh. This is agravating. I know it sounds stupid, but I really have to go. Theym ake all the juniors do work on it, and that would be even stupider for me to help out with it and not go.
And for some reason, when I tell people that I'm going with a group rather than with one person, it's like I've got green skin or something. They're like, "...Huh? Is that even possible?" YARGH.
PIRATA.
Augh, I Be Makin' Breakfast, Far I Got No Wife
Currently Listening To: Australia by the Shins
I learned to cook this week. My dad taught me.
...Well, I can cook one thing: Eggy-In-The-Basket. It's good. No, it's awesolicious. And it reminds me of V For Vendetta. If I awoke to Natalie Portman handing me a plate of Eggy-In-The-Basket...
My hatred of American Idol is like a fountain that seems to be putting out more and more water all the time, even though that water wasn't there to begin with. That's right, my hatred for that show does not obey the law of conservation of mass. My hatred of American Idol could fuel a perpetual motion device. FOX 5 is not a legitimate news source, not because it consults FOX News, but because it reports on Idol incessantly. And those smarmy assholes are the whitest motherfuckers alive, even the black guy, who is whiter thant the white guy.
Why do people like Amrican Idol? ARGH.
This is a dud post. I'm sorry.
I'm facing the android's conundrum.
I learned to cook this week. My dad taught me.
...Well, I can cook one thing: Eggy-In-The-Basket. It's good. No, it's awesolicious. And it reminds me of V For Vendetta. If I awoke to Natalie Portman handing me a plate of Eggy-In-The-Basket...
My hatred of American Idol is like a fountain that seems to be putting out more and more water all the time, even though that water wasn't there to begin with. That's right, my hatred for that show does not obey the law of conservation of mass. My hatred of American Idol could fuel a perpetual motion device. FOX 5 is not a legitimate news source, not because it consults FOX News, but because it reports on Idol incessantly. And those smarmy assholes are the whitest motherfuckers alive, even the black guy, who is whiter thant the white guy.
Why do people like Amrican Idol? ARGH.
This is a dud post. I'm sorry.
I'm facing the android's conundrum.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Mmmm, Chocolate.
So yeah, concuming a crappy cellular communication contraption.
Yesterday I recieved a contusion from a folding chair to the face. I'll explain when the picture is uploaded to facebook and I get a chance to swipe it.
Yesterday I recieved a contusion from a folding chair to the face. I'll explain when the picture is uploaded to facebook and I get a chance to swipe it.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Penny
Currently Listening To: Hurt You by the Sounds (it's on repeat)
Today's adventure begins whilst our hero, the dashing Clive Dangerously, was perusing the newspaper, wherein he spotted an ad from Target advertising some mad-crazy deals on CDs. Realizing that there were at least two he would be delighted to purchase, Clive ponders how to come about obtaining such an item. "I've got a bowl of change downstairs! Surely that's enough" Problem solved.
Right?
Obviously not. I was talking with some folk at Sunday School today and Kelly said that they're phasing out the penny because it costs more to make than it's worth (costs 1.4 cents, worth .98). Then I started to feel bad because so many of my precious coins are pennies, and if they're going to be worth more soon, why throw them away? I eventually decided it would be justifiable to cash in the change at coinstar and moved on.
But later I looked it up on wikipedia and saw some interesting stuff. Obviously the loss of the one-cent piece would complicate things, but there is a solution: rounding. Purchases made in cash are rounded to the nearest ten-cents, like math. Pretty simple. Sure, you lose a few cents here and there, but never more than three. And you can gain up to two cents, so... It's cool. Go for it.
The two CDs are Kaiser Chiefs' Yours Truly, Angry Mob and the Mika CD, which I'd guess is called Mika. Makes CENTS.
Today's adventure begins whilst our hero, the dashing Clive Dangerously, was perusing the newspaper, wherein he spotted an ad from Target advertising some mad-crazy deals on CDs. Realizing that there were at least two he would be delighted to purchase, Clive ponders how to come about obtaining such an item. "I've got a bowl of change downstairs! Surely that's enough" Problem solved.
Right?
Obviously not. I was talking with some folk at Sunday School today and Kelly said that they're phasing out the penny because it costs more to make than it's worth (costs 1.4 cents, worth .98). Then I started to feel bad because so many of my precious coins are pennies, and if they're going to be worth more soon, why throw them away? I eventually decided it would be justifiable to cash in the change at coinstar and moved on.
But later I looked it up on wikipedia and saw some interesting stuff. Obviously the loss of the one-cent piece would complicate things, but there is a solution: rounding. Purchases made in cash are rounded to the nearest ten-cents, like math. Pretty simple. Sure, you lose a few cents here and there, but never more than three. And you can gain up to two cents, so... It's cool. Go for it.
The two CDs are Kaiser Chiefs' Yours Truly, Angry Mob and the Mika CD, which I'd guess is called Mika. Makes CENTS.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
CRAZY BITCH
Currently Listening To: Hurt You by the Sounds
Some crazy woman keeps calling me. Well, not calling me, but calling our house, and I'm the only one who picks up. She's looking for my mom and I'm all, "my moms not hear call bak l8r, sk8r. kthnxbai" and then she's all, "Indeed." Then she calls back 15 minutes later and I say to her, "yo btich she aint got time 2 ghet home yet". So now when the phone rings (and it always does at our house because we're super popular) I run upstairs to see the caller ID, then run back downstairs and pick up the phone to make sure it isn't her.
Some crazy woman keeps calling me. Well, not calling me, but calling our house, and I'm the only one who picks up. She's looking for my mom and I'm all, "my moms not hear call bak l8r, sk8r. kthnxbai" and then she's all, "Indeed." Then she calls back 15 minutes later and I say to her, "yo btich she aint got time 2 ghet home yet". So now when the phone rings (and it always does at our house because we're super popular) I run upstairs to see the caller ID, then run back downstairs and pick up the phone to make sure it isn't her.
I'm ready MISERY right now. It's another non-supernatural Stevie King book. It's really good. But it's from the school library. Two things:
- I get the impression that no one ever checks those books out, because I walked up to the check-out desk and had to actually say, "I'd like to check out a book." I thought it was just understood, but no.
- Whoever had the book last appeared to have played with the book more than read it. There are little notes (and not for like a book club or something, but notes to people) spread throughout the book and I found a few pages (next to each other, of course) with holes in them. Burned into them. Wow.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Why Show Support By Actually Doing Something When You Can Make A Half
Currently Listening To: Atlantis To Interzone (Crystal Castles Remix) by Klaxons
I was pondering this while roaming the Magic Kingdom, and was reminded while perusing myspace today. The thing that reminded me on myspace was a bulletin I saw about loving your mom. That's a good cause, right? Moms do a lot of work, and they need a lot of appreciation, most of which they don't get. But the last line had something to do with "If you don't repost this, you obviously don't care if your mom dies or not". TOTALLY unnecesary. You got this nice, "always consider what your mom does for you" little piece of glurge, and then BAM! The obligatory repost threat. I cannot, cannot, cannot stand the repost threats. I don't care if I'm threatened with a year of bad luck, eternal damnation ('appreciate Jesus' posts) or 'you don't love your mom' hanging over my head, it just gets old. That is the one thing that keeps myspace from achieving interweb greatness in my mind: the plebes.
...But that's not the worst. What REALLY got me on about this rant is the Red campaign. You've probably seen the (red) shirts and iPods and countless other goodies you can buy. I will say, the idea behind Product Red is incredibly noble and worthwhile. Fighting AIDS and malaria and TB in Africa is a great cause. But everything else they stand for isn't. And when I say "everything else they stand for", I mean "being a stuck-up asshole in love iwth him or her self". People who own these shirts and iPods and whatever else get the feeling, upon recieving the item, that they and they alone have just saved the world. While the rest of us were just sitting on our asses reading whiny diatrabes on the internet, these people were out there making a difference; these people BOUGHT A T-SHIRT. That means they care. Oh yes, they care. Caring isn't directly donating money to these causes, no sir! You do not care unless your money goes to two places. Ten percent goes to these dying children in Africa, while the rest fuels sweatshops in southeast Asia (those kids don't matter) and the pockets of the shareholders of the GAP and Apple (and yes, I a ma hypocrite, considering I own products from both). So while you sit there in your living room, these people are doing something: they're sitting in THEIR living rooms wearing t-shirts.
If you need a product to make more tangible the fact that you care, you're in it for all the wrong reasons. Charity isn't meant to be trendy. It's meant to be charitable.
And in much less important/relevant news, I was rudely forced to update several accounts today. Both my blogger and my flickr accounts forced me to update to the most current... things. The beta thingy. What can I say, I tend to resist change. Frustration abounds. I'm not sure how I feel about this new Blogger.
I was pondering this while roaming the Magic Kingdom, and was reminded while perusing myspace today. The thing that reminded me on myspace was a bulletin I saw about loving your mom. That's a good cause, right? Moms do a lot of work, and they need a lot of appreciation, most of which they don't get. But the last line had something to do with "If you don't repost this, you obviously don't care if your mom dies or not". TOTALLY unnecesary. You got this nice, "always consider what your mom does for you" little piece of glurge, and then BAM! The obligatory repost threat. I cannot, cannot, cannot stand the repost threats. I don't care if I'm threatened with a year of bad luck, eternal damnation ('appreciate Jesus' posts) or 'you don't love your mom' hanging over my head, it just gets old. That is the one thing that keeps myspace from achieving interweb greatness in my mind: the plebes.
...But that's not the worst. What REALLY got me on about this rant is the Red campaign. You've probably seen the (red) shirts and iPods and countless other goodies you can buy. I will say, the idea behind Product Red is incredibly noble and worthwhile. Fighting AIDS and malaria and TB in Africa is a great cause. But everything else they stand for isn't. And when I say "everything else they stand for", I mean "being a stuck-up asshole in love iwth him or her self". People who own these shirts and iPods and whatever else get the feeling, upon recieving the item, that they and they alone have just saved the world. While the rest of us were just sitting on our asses reading whiny diatrabes on the internet, these people were out there making a difference; these people BOUGHT A T-SHIRT. That means they care. Oh yes, they care. Caring isn't directly donating money to these causes, no sir! You do not care unless your money goes to two places. Ten percent goes to these dying children in Africa, while the rest fuels sweatshops in southeast Asia (those kids don't matter) and the pockets of the shareholders of the GAP and Apple (and yes, I a ma hypocrite, considering I own products from both). So while you sit there in your living room, these people are doing something: they're sitting in THEIR living rooms wearing t-shirts.
If you need a product to make more tangible the fact that you care, you're in it for all the wrong reasons. Charity isn't meant to be trendy. It's meant to be charitable.
And in much less important/relevant news, I was rudely forced to update several accounts today. Both my blogger and my flickr accounts forced me to update to the most current... things. The beta thingy. What can I say, I tend to resist change. Frustration abounds. I'm not sure how I feel about this new Blogger.
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