I've been struggling lately. Most of the struggling is internal but it shows when I start smoking even when I'm sick. Anyway, most of the struggle stems from my career choices or lack there of. How come everytime you try and make a decision based on 2 limited options, a third more attractive option presents itself but does not contain the same stability as your previous two options? How come everything happens all at the same damn time? Some people delight in all their wishes happening at the same moment but I like mine in small doses over time making the wishes last longer and remaining better.
It just goes to show that you can't always get what you want. There would be no struggling. And isnt that what ultimately makes us human? Our struggles and our perseverance? I hope so because if not, then I'm less than human now.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Side Splitting
The past couple of days, I have been obsessed with this website. I read the list over and over again. Then I recover and read it again. A few might think it inappropriate but to them I say, "Get an imagination and get a life." It's funny and the tone, well, tone is everything. I am even in the process of writing my own. It will be entitled, #93 on the List of Stuff White People Like: J. Crew.
However, I wanted to share #2 here in case any of you folks are too lazy to actually go the website, even though I have it linked in several places. I feel it captures not just white people but young people in general.
#2 on the Stuff that White People Like: Religions that their parents don't belong to:
White people will often say they are “spiritual” but not religious. Which usually means that they will believe any religion that doesn’t involve Jesus. Popular choices include Buddhism, Hinduism, Kabbalah and, to a lesser extent, Scientology. A few even dip into Islam, but it’s much more rare since you have to give stuff up and actually go to Mosque. Mostly they are into religion that fits really well into their homes or wardrobe and doesn’t require them to do very much.
However, I wanted to share #2 here in case any of you folks are too lazy to actually go the website, even though I have it linked in several places. I feel it captures not just white people but young people in general.
#2 on the Stuff that White People Like: Religions that their parents don't belong to:
White people will often say they are “spiritual” but not religious. Which usually means that they will believe any religion that doesn’t involve Jesus. Popular choices include Buddhism, Hinduism, Kabbalah and, to a lesser extent, Scientology. A few even dip into Islam, but it’s much more rare since you have to give stuff up and actually go to Mosque. Mostly they are into religion that fits really well into their homes or wardrobe and doesn’t require them to do very much.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Guest Starring: The TV Girl
One of my favorite bloggers, the illustrious TV Girl, has been on hiatus for a bit. So, in an effort to re-prepare yourselves for her genius take on television in the modern world, I now post the second part of the 2 part series: Parents of TV. Here she tackles motherhood. Enjoy!
The Parents of TV: Best Moms
I have a good relationship with my mother. It is never perfect, but through a great deal of hard work, as well as trial and error, my mother and I have forged a mutually respectful and companionable relationship. We drink coffee and smoke cigarettes together, travel together, and argue about the appropriate understanding of memetic representation in Harry Potter. I mention this because it makes me a much harsher judge of Mother/Child relationships on TV. Motherhood is probably the most difficult vocation, especially in the post-Feminist age where women are considered wrong for wanting to devote themselves to it full time. I try to bear in mind both my family dynamics and more universally human concerns when evaluating portrayals of motherhood on TV, but I often find myself dissatisfied. I am disinclined to assent to the superior mothering skills of Lorelei Gilmore (Lauren Graham) and Nora Walker (Sally Field). These two characters are hailed as the be all and end all of motherhood; I think they form the Scylla and Carybdis of fictional moms. Can someone explain to me the point of the Ross/Rachel baby on Friends, because I would hope any child treated so dismissively would be taken by the state. I will not even try to express my wonder that Rosanne’s children did not murder her in her sleep. But in all fairness, there are some instances of genuine motherhood on TV.
Lucille Bluth (Jessica Walter) on Arrested Development
I understand that I have to defend this choice, since this woman is an alcoholic sociopath who manipulates her children simply to pass the time. She is a horrible woman, but in a twisted way, I think she is a great mom. She holds her family together, albeit with an iron fist. All of her children, with the exception of Michael (Jason Bateman), are utterly deficient human beings. Without her presence they would all be dead in a ditch somewhere. You could easily make the argument that they are as they are because of her less than stellar parenting skills, but there is no type of saint that she could have been to counteract their father(s). Through her passive-aggressive wiles, the Bluth family celebrates birthdays and holidays together, attend social events as a family, run a (successful?) company, and participate in charitable work. They always cause a scene, usually end up on the evening news, and the community would probably be happy if the whole family was incarcerated. Yet, under the hawk-like matriarchy of Lucille the Bluth’s function as family unit. I hope someday I can say as much for myself as a mother.
Miranda Hobbes (Cynthia Nixon) on Sex and the City
What I said in the introduction may incline you to think that I don’t believe women should work. That is not the case. I simply have a dislike of the idea of “having it all.” Attempting a demanding full-time career and children requires compromising both. Such a lifestyle also requires a support system willing to pick up a great deal of the slack Miranda and Steve (David Eigenberg) are my favorite storyline in the entirety of Sex and the City, in part because I really think Miranda made an admirable effort to maintain her career and be a dedicated (and for a time single) mother. She did not want to be a mom in the first place; Brady was the result of the Reproductive Special Olympics, and like any show in our post-modern era, Miranda considered having an abortion. But she chose not to, and despite being utterly emotionally unprepared made room in her life for a son. She was often sleep deprived and on the verge of a breakdown, and if you have ever met a new mother (even in the best of circumstances) that is how it is. Miranda did not have it easy, and her friends lent a hand, most often in the way friends help with babies; getting the mother away from said baby for a night. When the time was right, Miranda gave up her Manhattan lifestyle and assented to move with Steve and Brady to Brooklyn, so that Brady could grow up in a house, with a yard in which to play with the dog. I have always wondered (and maybe the show addressed this and I missed it) but since Brady is named after his father’s last name, did they change his name when Miranda and Steve got married, thereby making him Brady Brady, or did they leave him Brady Hobbes?
Marge Simpson on (the early seasons of) The Simpsons
Yes, she is two-dimensional. Yes, at this point in the series she is a pale caricature of her former self. Even so, for the first half of the 90’s Marge Simpson was the best mom on TV. Committed to being a full time housewife, she confronts the repercussions of limiting her own career ambitions, periods of self-doubt, and bouts of exhaustion. For a half an hour at a time, Marge shows us all of the difficulties of loving another person and raising a family with that person. And for many years, Marge rose to each challenge. She maintained the house, the food, the laundry, and also carved out a life of her own, through activities like painting and community theatre. She demonstrated to her children principles such as forgiveness and compassion. But she was an immensely realistic cartoon. Marge’s love prevents her from taking a stronger stance on the tough issues such as discipline. Her position as mother skewed her perspective, making she has trouble seeing the gravity of certain behaviors and therefore justifying or excusing punishable offenses. I wonder if there is any mother who has not found herself in the position?
Grams (Mary Beth Peil) on Dawson’s Creek
Technically Grams was, obviously, Jen (Michelle Williams)’s grandmother, so maybe she shouldn’t count for this list, but she is great, and deserves recognition. Who would have guessed when we first met Bible-thumping, long skirt wearing, no cussing Grams that she would be the one to protect and nurture self-destructive, guilt ridden Jen and too gay for a small town Jack (Kerr Smith)? That is not a fair question since Jack did not arrive on the drama-ridden but picturesque coastline until the second season, but you see my point. It stands to reason that having made some serious mistakes in raising her own daughter (Jen’s self-involved mother) Grams did not allow herself to repeat her behavior. Grams never became a moral relativist; rather she put the mandate to love above the mandate to preach. Grams embodied the delicate balance between instruction and comfort that all mothers strive to achieve, demonstrating that the right thing has to be said in the right way to be effective.
Mary Winchester () on Supernatural
At this point you may think I am either grasping at straws, or I am way too critical. Feel free to think either. The fact is that only great love (or professional training) can convince someone to lay down his or her life to protect another. Mary goes one step further. She extinguishes her immortal soul to save the life of her son Sam when he is about to be killed by a poltergeist. While I am unqualified to judge the theological possibility of such an act, I think Mary deserves our respect for protecting her children from beyond the grave.
The TV Girl
The Parents of TV: Best Moms
I have a good relationship with my mother. It is never perfect, but through a great deal of hard work, as well as trial and error, my mother and I have forged a mutually respectful and companionable relationship. We drink coffee and smoke cigarettes together, travel together, and argue about the appropriate understanding of memetic representation in Harry Potter. I mention this because it makes me a much harsher judge of Mother/Child relationships on TV. Motherhood is probably the most difficult vocation, especially in the post-Feminist age where women are considered wrong for wanting to devote themselves to it full time. I try to bear in mind both my family dynamics and more universally human concerns when evaluating portrayals of motherhood on TV, but I often find myself dissatisfied. I am disinclined to assent to the superior mothering skills of Lorelei Gilmore (Lauren Graham) and Nora Walker (Sally Field). These two characters are hailed as the be all and end all of motherhood; I think they form the Scylla and Carybdis of fictional moms. Can someone explain to me the point of the Ross/Rachel baby on Friends, because I would hope any child treated so dismissively would be taken by the state. I will not even try to express my wonder that Rosanne’s children did not murder her in her sleep. But in all fairness, there are some instances of genuine motherhood on TV.
Lucille Bluth (Jessica Walter) on Arrested Development
I understand that I have to defend this choice, since this woman is an alcoholic sociopath who manipulates her children simply to pass the time. She is a horrible woman, but in a twisted way, I think she is a great mom. She holds her family together, albeit with an iron fist. All of her children, with the exception of Michael (Jason Bateman), are utterly deficient human beings. Without her presence they would all be dead in a ditch somewhere. You could easily make the argument that they are as they are because of her less than stellar parenting skills, but there is no type of saint that she could have been to counteract their father(s). Through her passive-aggressive wiles, the Bluth family celebrates birthdays and holidays together, attend social events as a family, run a (successful?) company, and participate in charitable work. They always cause a scene, usually end up on the evening news, and the community would probably be happy if the whole family was incarcerated. Yet, under the hawk-like matriarchy of Lucille the Bluth’s function as family unit. I hope someday I can say as much for myself as a mother.
Miranda Hobbes (Cynthia Nixon) on Sex and the City
What I said in the introduction may incline you to think that I don’t believe women should work. That is not the case. I simply have a dislike of the idea of “having it all.” Attempting a demanding full-time career and children requires compromising both. Such a lifestyle also requires a support system willing to pick up a great deal of the slack Miranda and Steve (David Eigenberg) are my favorite storyline in the entirety of Sex and the City, in part because I really think Miranda made an admirable effort to maintain her career and be a dedicated (and for a time single) mother. She did not want to be a mom in the first place; Brady was the result of the Reproductive Special Olympics, and like any show in our post-modern era, Miranda considered having an abortion. But she chose not to, and despite being utterly emotionally unprepared made room in her life for a son. She was often sleep deprived and on the verge of a breakdown, and if you have ever met a new mother (even in the best of circumstances) that is how it is. Miranda did not have it easy, and her friends lent a hand, most often in the way friends help with babies; getting the mother away from said baby for a night. When the time was right, Miranda gave up her Manhattan lifestyle and assented to move with Steve and Brady to Brooklyn, so that Brady could grow up in a house, with a yard in which to play with the dog. I have always wondered (and maybe the show addressed this and I missed it) but since Brady is named after his father’s last name, did they change his name when Miranda and Steve got married, thereby making him Brady Brady, or did they leave him Brady Hobbes?
Marge Simpson on (the early seasons of) The Simpsons
Yes, she is two-dimensional. Yes, at this point in the series she is a pale caricature of her former self. Even so, for the first half of the 90’s Marge Simpson was the best mom on TV. Committed to being a full time housewife, she confronts the repercussions of limiting her own career ambitions, periods of self-doubt, and bouts of exhaustion. For a half an hour at a time, Marge shows us all of the difficulties of loving another person and raising a family with that person. And for many years, Marge rose to each challenge. She maintained the house, the food, the laundry, and also carved out a life of her own, through activities like painting and community theatre. She demonstrated to her children principles such as forgiveness and compassion. But she was an immensely realistic cartoon. Marge’s love prevents her from taking a stronger stance on the tough issues such as discipline. Her position as mother skewed her perspective, making she has trouble seeing the gravity of certain behaviors and therefore justifying or excusing punishable offenses. I wonder if there is any mother who has not found herself in the position?
Grams (Mary Beth Peil) on Dawson’s Creek
Technically Grams was, obviously, Jen (Michelle Williams)’s grandmother, so maybe she shouldn’t count for this list, but she is great, and deserves recognition. Who would have guessed when we first met Bible-thumping, long skirt wearing, no cussing Grams that she would be the one to protect and nurture self-destructive, guilt ridden Jen and too gay for a small town Jack (Kerr Smith)? That is not a fair question since Jack did not arrive on the drama-ridden but picturesque coastline until the second season, but you see my point. It stands to reason that having made some serious mistakes in raising her own daughter (Jen’s self-involved mother) Grams did not allow herself to repeat her behavior. Grams never became a moral relativist; rather she put the mandate to love above the mandate to preach. Grams embodied the delicate balance between instruction and comfort that all mothers strive to achieve, demonstrating that the right thing has to be said in the right way to be effective.
Mary Winchester () on Supernatural
At this point you may think I am either grasping at straws, or I am way too critical. Feel free to think either. The fact is that only great love (or professional training) can convince someone to lay down his or her life to protect another. Mary goes one step further. She extinguishes her immortal soul to save the life of her son Sam when he is about to be killed by a poltergeist. While I am unqualified to judge the theological possibility of such an act, I think Mary deserves our respect for protecting her children from beyond the grave.
The TV Girl
Election Fever
I usually try and stay away from the political stuff but with Obama's recent support videos jamming up the YouTube, I was pleasantly surprised to find this:
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Tradition...TRADITION.
Imagine the above post title coming from Tevye's booming tenor. Don't know Tevye? Then I dont know you. Go rent Fiddler on the Roof right now before you even finish reading this post.
Anyway, yesterday was Good Friday. For the past seven or so years, I have a rather unorthodox way of honoring this day of ultimate sacrifice. Since the day is spent fasting and refraining from meat, naturally my inclination is spend the first 10 minutes of Holy Saturday gorging on the finest meats and cheeses...from Dennys. You see, around 8 or 9pm on Friday, a few of my friends and I would rent a horror film or two, watch it and scream and drink cherry wine coolers. Then at the stroke of midnight, we would head out to the local Denny's for Moons Over my Hammy or the Western skillet or any of the numerous tasty items on the Denny's menu. This tradition began our sophomore year of high school and lasted well, until this year.
Those Fridays are fond memories. However one night sticks out in particular. I call it the Redrum Incident of '02. My best friends Amy, PW and Sarah came over around 9pm, we headed out to Blockbuster and promptly rented The Shining since we had heard it was the ultimate "horror" flick. We also got Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion to offset the creepy Jack Nicholson. After the first half hour, I think we were all pretty proud of ourselves because none of us had a. peed our pants b. screamed like schoolgirls and c. had to leave the room. However, this high was not going to last. Just when no play began to make Jack a dull boy, so did The Shining begin to make us tear at our eyes. Then it came, that creepy kid that to this day still haunts my dreams: REDRUM. REDRUM. I swear Amy hit the ceiling and Sarah unleashed the girliest scream I've ever heard. Sodas were spilled, blankets and pillows thrown around. We were effin creeped out. I dont think any of us knew what the hell was going on. We were nice little high school students. We didnt meddle with Wicca or read sci-fi books about aliens. We were honor students, student council members, a valedictorian and jocks. What the hell were we doing watching a little kid wiggle his finger and chant murder backwards? It was a scary, scary moment. It was made even creepier when my older brother who decided at that moment to flash the basement lights. I swear my heart jumped out of my body, did a jig and then died.
It took us all a moment to collect ourselves. We finished the movie in silence while exchanging "what the hell just happened looks?" I still to this day dont understand if Jack was a ghost and travelled back in time or what. The drive to Denny's was perpetuated with my smart-ass Redrum whispers to which I recieved violent cancer punches. The rest of the night was a blast. We had coffee, smoked cigarettes and due to our carbo induced late night breakfast, laughed like drunk monkeys at Romy and Michelle's hijinks.
The next year, before we could have Friday fun, Amy passed away while studying in Spain. We contemplated cancelling it since it was so soon after Amy's passing but sure enough when that Friday in 03 came along, I called PW and Sarah and we rented the movies and we ate Moons Over My Hammy. It was our first Good Friday in 4 years that Amy was not with us. Our conversation that night revolved around the Redrum Incident, Amy's penchant for berry wine coolers, and her disgust for cigarettes. It felt good to talk about her, like she was just missing the night because she was out with one of her many male admirers. And thats how I thought about it for a while. She was just missing out on things, not because she was dead, but because she was occupied with other stuff. Somewhere she was doing something important.
Yesterday was the first time it dawned on me that there may not be many Good Fridays left to be spent in a sketchy Denny's. Maybe it will just become one of those stories that we throw out at 10 year reunions. In the past 2 years, I have felt the excitement of the event fade away and made even more complicated by the fact that I no longer live in the same city as Sarah and PW. I dont know if its because we've all grown apart or grown up or grown lazy and jaded that we dont bother with the silly traditions that we used to do in high school. But to me, these traditions are what makes life liveable. They connect all of us and enable us to continually interact with eachother no matter how far away we get. It gives us the memories that we are so constantly reminded "will last us a lifetime."
I missed my friends yesterday.
I miss Amy everyday.
Anyway, yesterday was Good Friday. For the past seven or so years, I have a rather unorthodox way of honoring this day of ultimate sacrifice. Since the day is spent fasting and refraining from meat, naturally my inclination is spend the first 10 minutes of Holy Saturday gorging on the finest meats and cheeses...from Dennys. You see, around 8 or 9pm on Friday, a few of my friends and I would rent a horror film or two, watch it and scream and drink cherry wine coolers. Then at the stroke of midnight, we would head out to the local Denny's for Moons Over my Hammy or the Western skillet or any of the numerous tasty items on the Denny's menu. This tradition began our sophomore year of high school and lasted well, until this year.
Those Fridays are fond memories. However one night sticks out in particular. I call it the Redrum Incident of '02. My best friends Amy, PW and Sarah came over around 9pm, we headed out to Blockbuster and promptly rented The Shining since we had heard it was the ultimate "horror" flick. We also got Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion to offset the creepy Jack Nicholson. After the first half hour, I think we were all pretty proud of ourselves because none of us had a. peed our pants b. screamed like schoolgirls and c. had to leave the room. However, this high was not going to last. Just when no play began to make Jack a dull boy, so did The Shining begin to make us tear at our eyes. Then it came, that creepy kid that to this day still haunts my dreams: REDRUM. REDRUM. I swear Amy hit the ceiling and Sarah unleashed the girliest scream I've ever heard. Sodas were spilled, blankets and pillows thrown around. We were effin creeped out. I dont think any of us knew what the hell was going on. We were nice little high school students. We didnt meddle with Wicca or read sci-fi books about aliens. We were honor students, student council members, a valedictorian and jocks. What the hell were we doing watching a little kid wiggle his finger and chant murder backwards? It was a scary, scary moment. It was made even creepier when my older brother who decided at that moment to flash the basement lights. I swear my heart jumped out of my body, did a jig and then died.
It took us all a moment to collect ourselves. We finished the movie in silence while exchanging "what the hell just happened looks?" I still to this day dont understand if Jack was a ghost and travelled back in time or what. The drive to Denny's was perpetuated with my smart-ass Redrum whispers to which I recieved violent cancer punches. The rest of the night was a blast. We had coffee, smoked cigarettes and due to our carbo induced late night breakfast, laughed like drunk monkeys at Romy and Michelle's hijinks.
The next year, before we could have Friday fun, Amy passed away while studying in Spain. We contemplated cancelling it since it was so soon after Amy's passing but sure enough when that Friday in 03 came along, I called PW and Sarah and we rented the movies and we ate Moons Over My Hammy. It was our first Good Friday in 4 years that Amy was not with us. Our conversation that night revolved around the Redrum Incident, Amy's penchant for berry wine coolers, and her disgust for cigarettes. It felt good to talk about her, like she was just missing the night because she was out with one of her many male admirers. And thats how I thought about it for a while. She was just missing out on things, not because she was dead, but because she was occupied with other stuff. Somewhere she was doing something important.
Yesterday was the first time it dawned on me that there may not be many Good Fridays left to be spent in a sketchy Denny's. Maybe it will just become one of those stories that we throw out at 10 year reunions. In the past 2 years, I have felt the excitement of the event fade away and made even more complicated by the fact that I no longer live in the same city as Sarah and PW. I dont know if its because we've all grown apart or grown up or grown lazy and jaded that we dont bother with the silly traditions that we used to do in high school. But to me, these traditions are what makes life liveable. They connect all of us and enable us to continually interact with eachother no matter how far away we get. It gives us the memories that we are so constantly reminded "will last us a lifetime."
I missed my friends yesterday.
I miss Amy everyday.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Post Script
Is it sinful that I'm blogging on Good Friday?
Also, check out my newest effort to channel one of my obsessions into something creative.
Also, check out my newest effort to channel one of my obsessions into something creative.
Snow for Easter
It will be tough to hunt for Easter eggs in 8 inches of snow. But I do not doubt the ferociousness of kids in pursuit of chocolate and candy. Especially little Catholic kids who have been deprived of sweets for Lent. Or adults for that matter.
Thankfully, my family has always had our little Easter egg hunt indoors. Sure there was the occasional outdoor clue like basketball hoop or slide but for the most part, eggs were always hidden in bedrooms, bathroom or basement. I'm pretty sure my parents got less creative over time or for us kids, those rooms seemed smaller and not as cavernous.
So, my trip to D.C...was amazing. I can honestly say that I have the best friends in the world and hanging out with them for short periods of time only makes me miss them more when we are apart. Thank you friends for your hospitality and reminding me why I wake up every morning to face this drab world. Perhaps that is a bit dramatic and I confess to just watching Yours, Mine, and Ours, but seriously, you folks make life worthwhile. And since a majority of them now have offspring, I have great HOPE for the future of this country. On a side note, I just bought the CUTEST gift for my friend's new baby. Peneloveronijosephine will love it.
However, my trip was not all smiles and sunshine. On the way back to Chicago, I sat next to the largest, gassiest man I ever encountered. Seriously, the dude should be in a carnival and everytime a bell rings he can unleash his formidable flatulence and kill a few flowers. Would you pay money to see that?
Thankfully, my family has always had our little Easter egg hunt indoors. Sure there was the occasional outdoor clue like basketball hoop or slide but for the most part, eggs were always hidden in bedrooms, bathroom or basement. I'm pretty sure my parents got less creative over time or for us kids, those rooms seemed smaller and not as cavernous.
So, my trip to D.C...was amazing. I can honestly say that I have the best friends in the world and hanging out with them for short periods of time only makes me miss them more when we are apart. Thank you friends for your hospitality and reminding me why I wake up every morning to face this drab world. Perhaps that is a bit dramatic and I confess to just watching Yours, Mine, and Ours, but seriously, you folks make life worthwhile. And since a majority of them now have offspring, I have great HOPE for the future of this country. On a side note, I just bought the CUTEST gift for my friend's new baby. Peneloveronijosephine will love it.
However, my trip was not all smiles and sunshine. On the way back to Chicago, I sat next to the largest, gassiest man I ever encountered. Seriously, the dude should be in a carnival and everytime a bell rings he can unleash his formidable flatulence and kill a few flowers. Would you pay money to see that?
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Estoy Aqui
The sun rises and the fun begins. I'm on a vacation. That means no writing for a while. So dry your eyes and take a look at the links to the right. Those people should be able to properly entertain you until I get back. Ciao!
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
DC Bound
Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Can't wait. I feel like this:
Except I'm not on drugs and I dont have a Zach Morris to comfort me. And I'm not in high school. And I did not go on to star in a porn-esque dancing movie called Showgirls. But excited, check, I am indeed.
Except I'm not on drugs and I dont have a Zach Morris to comfort me. And I'm not in high school. And I did not go on to star in a porn-esque dancing movie called Showgirls. But excited, check, I am indeed.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Quotage
So I got this from Fort Knocks. I couldnt resist copying. So, try and guess the quotes, no cheating or Santa will rape you, as Fort Knocks puts it. Most of them are from my favorite films and I will admit one is from a TV show which is probably not in line with the "meme" but its my meme so suck it up and put on your thinking cap.
1.) "Little beat big when little smart." The Power of One-LoneWolfe1978
2.) "At my old school I was Horny...you know the Rhino...I-I was the mascot." Veronica Mars-The TV Girl aka. smartass
3.) "Everybody dance." Meet me in St. Louis-Fort Knocks
4.) "I drink your milkshake. I drink it up." There Will be Blood-TV Girl
5.) "She is Lana Turner." LA Confidential-TV Girl
6.) "Ah, youth is wasted on the wrong people."Its a Wonderful Life-Tiff
7.) "Yeah but why are you white?" Mean Girls-TV Girl
8.) "If we were your kids, we'd punish ourselves."
9.) "There's a double meaning in that." Much Ado About Nothing-Crystal
10.) "Noo, it means I was drunk yesterday." School of Rock-TV Girl
1.) "Little beat big when little smart." The Power of One-LoneWolfe1978
2.) "At my old school I was Horny...you know the Rhino...I-I was the mascot." Veronica Mars-The TV Girl aka. smartass
3.) "Everybody dance." Meet me in St. Louis-Fort Knocks
4.) "I drink your milkshake. I drink it up." There Will be Blood-TV Girl
5.) "She is Lana Turner." LA Confidential-TV Girl
6.) "Ah, youth is wasted on the wrong people."Its a Wonderful Life-Tiff
7.) "Yeah but why are you white?" Mean Girls-TV Girl
8.) "If we were your kids, we'd punish ourselves."
9.) "There's a double meaning in that." Much Ado About Nothing-Crystal
10.) "Noo, it means I was drunk yesterday." School of Rock-TV Girl
Garish Gewgaws
I love words. That is why I subscribe to the Dictionary.com's Word of the Day. I am aware that this is useless information but consider me in a giving mood and take this info and store it in the "random knowledge of Asiankp that one day when I meet her I can bring it up so we have something to talk about" part of your brain.
Anyway, the word of the day last Friday was gewgaw. Yes, it is a real word meaning worthless trinkets or objects of little or no meaning or value. As in, unsuspecting folks eagerly purchase garish gewgaws. Its no surprise that the origin of gewgaw is unknown.
However, this word made me think of the Bluth family. If I were a member of the Bluth family, my contribution to the "chicken" impression would be to hop around on one foot screaming, "Gewgaw...gewgaaaw....geewgaaaawww...." and so on and so forth. I'd be happy to demonstrate. I'm starting to worry that TV is slowly creeping in and overtaking my reality.
Anyway, the word of the day last Friday was gewgaw. Yes, it is a real word meaning worthless trinkets or objects of little or no meaning or value. As in, unsuspecting folks eagerly purchase garish gewgaws. Its no surprise that the origin of gewgaw is unknown.
However, this word made me think of the Bluth family. If I were a member of the Bluth family, my contribution to the "chicken" impression would be to hop around on one foot screaming, "Gewgaw...gewgaaaw....geewgaaaawww...." and so on and so forth. I'd be happy to demonstrate. I'm starting to worry that TV is slowly creeping in and overtaking my reality.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Eh...
I seem to have hit an all time low on the inappropriate topics graph. Which is why I will not repeat a very funny but very gross thing that happened to me involving the women's bathroom. If I've intruiged you, you can seek me out for the full story.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
For the love of God, use support
As human beings, we know the absolute necessity of a support system. Whether it be friends, family or fuzzy, furry creatures, a support system is vital to survival. Mentally and physically. Our friends and family get us through good and bad times and our physical support system, namely our bodies, requires rest, food, and proper nourishment of all kinds. No matter which way you look at it, a strong support system is necessary, vital and at times, life saving.
Then why, why for all the beans in Mexico, do women insist on going out in public without their chest support systems? Honestly people, its called a bra and yes, you should wear it. They arent too expensive unless you are into that sort of thing, in which case I would laugh and tell you that underwear is meant to be under and not broadcasted to the world therefore spending an inane amount of money on expensive undergarments is about as smart as buying week old milk. I am fully aware that back in the day, women did not wear bras and everything was loosey goosey. More comfortable? Maybe but then again, try doing your daily activities without wearing a bra and then get back to me about how comfy it is. I assure you that you will not feel the same way when you are climbing stairs or jogging to catch the bus and your tatas are bouncing up and down wildly.
Now, I understand that some women have miniscule chests and that wearing a bra is just an added nuisance especially since it would just draw more attention but in all honesty, its more distracting to see a small chested woman's misquito bites just sitting there...ICK. Also, bras help women be discreet in certain situations where frigid temperatures cause peakage. And no one wants to witness that.
Its even worse when you see women exercising without the right size sports bra. My roommate has a hilarious story about some woman she saw jogging without sports bra and her chest was like slinkys, you know those rubber spring things that bounce up and down, up and down...all the way to floor and then springing back up. Haha. I hope I just gave you a slightly inappropriate mental image.
So to all the women in the world, bras are your friend. Wear them. Cherish them and for gosh sakes, never ever leave the house without them.
Then why, why for all the beans in Mexico, do women insist on going out in public without their chest support systems? Honestly people, its called a bra and yes, you should wear it. They arent too expensive unless you are into that sort of thing, in which case I would laugh and tell you that underwear is meant to be under and not broadcasted to the world therefore spending an inane amount of money on expensive undergarments is about as smart as buying week old milk. I am fully aware that back in the day, women did not wear bras and everything was loosey goosey. More comfortable? Maybe but then again, try doing your daily activities without wearing a bra and then get back to me about how comfy it is. I assure you that you will not feel the same way when you are climbing stairs or jogging to catch the bus and your tatas are bouncing up and down wildly.
Now, I understand that some women have miniscule chests and that wearing a bra is just an added nuisance especially since it would just draw more attention but in all honesty, its more distracting to see a small chested woman's misquito bites just sitting there...ICK. Also, bras help women be discreet in certain situations where frigid temperatures cause peakage. And no one wants to witness that.
Its even worse when you see women exercising without the right size sports bra. My roommate has a hilarious story about some woman she saw jogging without sports bra and her chest was like slinkys, you know those rubber spring things that bounce up and down, up and down...all the way to floor and then springing back up. Haha. I hope I just gave you a slightly inappropriate mental image.
So to all the women in the world, bras are your friend. Wear them. Cherish them and for gosh sakes, never ever leave the house without them.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Thoughts
Perhaps I should stay away from the bathroom humor posts and leave those to the experts. Just an observation.
Anyway, I did not go to work today. I called in sick which is not entirely false because I really needed this little mental health day. I did wake up with a sore throat and even attempted to shower only to realize the water was effin cold (I have 3 other roommates who all shower before 8 am) so I shrugged my shoulders and crawled back into bed where I remained for several peaceful hours. It was beautiful.
Anyway, I did not go to work today. I called in sick which is not entirely false because I really needed this little mental health day. I did wake up with a sore throat and even attempted to shower only to realize the water was effin cold (I have 3 other roommates who all shower before 8 am) so I shrugged my shoulders and crawled back into bed where I remained for several peaceful hours. It was beautiful.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Like Two Ships Passing
My dear roommate has humorously documented her saga with awkward co-worker encounters in the bathroom and her stories have given me pause to consider how in an office of 9 people with only 2 women (myself and my superior) and one women's toilet, I have never ever had an ill-fated toilet tete a tete in almost 2 months.
Perhaps this is not out of the ordinary but it occurs to me that we must be on totally opposite relief schedules. I have never needed the restroom while she is in it and I have never been walked in on while using the commode myself. From my observations, we both drink a good amount of water during the day and judging from certain odors, I'm aware that both our bowels are functioning quite smoothly. She is a good deal smaller and more feisty that me but I'm not sure if that has anything to do with digestion unless her feisty nature causes her metabolism to go into hyper mode and attack food the way a piranha attacks a goldfish.
Either way, I think its an interesting phenomenon and quite frankly, a disappointment. From what my roommate tells me, I would have a lot more fodder for this blog if only my boss and I had coinciding digestive dumps.
Perhaps this is not out of the ordinary but it occurs to me that we must be on totally opposite relief schedules. I have never needed the restroom while she is in it and I have never been walked in on while using the commode myself. From my observations, we both drink a good amount of water during the day and judging from certain odors, I'm aware that both our bowels are functioning quite smoothly. She is a good deal smaller and more feisty that me but I'm not sure if that has anything to do with digestion unless her feisty nature causes her metabolism to go into hyper mode and attack food the way a piranha attacks a goldfish.
Either way, I think its an interesting phenomenon and quite frankly, a disappointment. From what my roommate tells me, I would have a lot more fodder for this blog if only my boss and I had coinciding digestive dumps.
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