My Humps

I went for my second sensitivity training session last week. We were strongly encouraged to attend this “voluntary” session. By “strongly encouraged,” I mean forced. And by “voluntary,” I mean mandatory.

It opened with a GOOOOOOOOONNNNGGG!

We were then instructed to pair up and switch work rolls, i.e. supervisors acted as staff and staff as supervisors. I was paired up with a woman who we refer to as Jabba. Sure, the earth trembles, shaking my cube walls as she passes on her way for her breakfast (Doritos and Mountain Dew)- but we don’t call her Jabba simply because she’s a big girl. We call her Jabba because she is actually evil. She even has a sidekick, who I call Salacious (though nobody has figured out why*).

At any rate, she had to be a crap employee and I had to be her boss in the play acting and she was so mean I couldn’t focus enough to complete the task with any success. I actually compacted into a tiny ball on my chair. Eventually, her aggressive wining tirade was brought short by another (atonal) chime of the GOOOOOOOONNNG. After which she gave me a half-hug (NO LIKEY THE TOUCHY!!!) and said, “Whew all this acting is hard, thank God I don’t have to be like that all the time.” Well, while you don’t HAVE to be a bitch all the time, you do manage it at least 8 hours a day.

Next we were instructed to take a break for cookies; and thank God I grabbed a couple extra. Our next activity was to decide what animal our “emotional selves” were. Animals are meat and meat is good. But somehow “emotional animals” didn’t have much appeal to me. Emotions are suspiciously similar to feelings (nice try, Tricky) and everyone knows I DO NOT TALK ABOUT FEELINGS.

As she announced the criterion for picking our “animal selves” I let out just one snort. As people commented that they were bunnies, turtles and tigers in emotionally charged situations, I was completely unable to look at anything beyond my shoes. Making any eye contact with people who seriously believe themselves to be “emotional opossums” would actually have sent me headlong into the Giggle Loop.

After a long term of silence, I determined that I am a Camel. Camels are useful, often amusing, but uncooperative and stubborn. In conflict situations a camel will simply sit down. If you continue to bother it, it will spit at you. If you foolishly persist, a violent kick or bite may head your direction.

Momentary relief at coming up with something to say was instantaneously destroyed with the realization that my entire supposition that this entire exercise was bullshit was slightly flawed in that I definitely do resemble a camel in that particular sense. But not all senses, my milk is not considered an aphrodisiac in Ethiopia. Yet.

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*Salacious Crumb is a Kowakian Lizard Monkey. You know the thingy that Jabba hangs out with. It screeched when R2-D2 zapped it on the sand barge when they were trying to feed Luke to the Sarlacc… uhm. You know, the part with the gold bikini…. Nevermind.

Still single, fellas.

Word.

The following appeared in my inbox this morning, courtesy of KEXP....

Good morning John,

In my never-ending quest to provide you with the information you need on the artists that

matter, today Ill answer the question, Who is Kevin Federline? As you may know, Federline is occasionally referred to as Mr. Britney Spears. Well, thats all about to change, bitch.

You see, Federline has been promoting his upcoming debut record, Playing With Fire and it sounds like were in for a treat. In a statement released through his publicist on Tuesday,

Federline, billed as "performer and rapper," says: "The inspiration and meaning behind the title is self explanatory, (because) my album is sure to set the dance floors across the world on fire!"

Wearing the ensemble that has become his signature look wifebeater, jeans, ponytail, bling Federline, says Ive been quiet for two years, he says. Now its my time to say, Hey, Im here, like it or not.

Federline says hes been a bedroom rapper for years and actually got into dancing through hip-hop. Still, when he first stepped into a studio he worked on rock and alternative music before going back to his first love. He says, I have other stuff I tried that actually sounds pretty good, alternative stuff, rock stuff, but I'm gonna go this route 'cause this is what I grew up with. This is what's in my blood. I don't know no different."

In fact, Federline says that sometimes, he just gets hit with the beat upside your head and it's like, 'Put me in the booth right now. I don't even need to write nothing down. Let's do it.' That's it for me. It's like a rush, man."

Federline has already released his first single via the Internet, "PopoZao," which is slang for "nice ass" in Portuguese. But he told MTV that his "favorite joint" is the track "Down South," a crunk tune with the opening lyric, "Put your middle fingers up if you really don't give a f---." "Pot Roastin'" is a "booty joint" with sexed-up lyrics over a simplistic beat that includes the line "Between the cheeks/ Turn your little girls from sweet to freaks." Others songs recall his troubled teenage years, including "Untold Stories," which samples a Journey track. "Using your life situations and talking about 'em, that's what hip-hop is," he says. "I'm just a real person, man. That's it."

Most of his songs, however, are straight-up club tracks. "I want to be able to go out there and dance," he explains. "I don't want to give that up. That's a big piece of my life. So in order to do that, I need to get everyone else out there to shake their ass."

Unfortunately, new-wave trailblazer and apparently, party pooper, Thomas Dolby is considering taking legal action against K-Fed for violating copyright law by using his 1983 hit, "She Blinded Me With Science in the future smash, "America's Most Hated." Dolby says he considered turning a blind eye to it before finding out the song had already aired on VH1. It's like what Vanilla Ice did with 'Ice Ice Baby' [illegally sampling Queen and David Bowie's 'Under Pressure'], although I think Vanilla Ice is a superstar compared to this guy," says Dolby. Interestingly, Federline refers to the paparazzi that follow him and Spears as "Pavarottis" in the song. Opinions vary as to whether this was intentional.

But just who is this misunderstood genius? Lets take a look.

He grew up in Fresno, California where he says, A lot of just crazy, crazy sh*t went down, so I had to get myself out of that situation. Dancing brought me out of it. Federline dropped out of high school to pursue his dancing career, and surpringly, has yet to complete his GED. He got his first breaks dancing backup for Pink and Justin Timberlake.

The relationship between Spears and Federline began with their meeting at a Hollywood club called Joseph's. Spears soon invited him on her European tour, The Onyx Hotel Tour, and she proposed to Federline on the plane ride back from the tour. On the night of September 18, 2004, two months after his second child was born to actress Shar Jackson, Federline and Spears engaged in a surprise wedding ceremony at a private home in Studio City, California. Although not legally binding, this "faux wedding" allowed the couple to finalize legal details of their marriage without the deadline of an upcoming ceremony. To celebrate their beautiful love, Spears gave Kevin a Ferrari 360 Spider that he repainted to read "Federline" instead of "Ferrari".

Federline and Spears have collaborated on a few tracks, but Federline is sitting on them for the same reason. "I think people need to get to know me a little bit more, and that way when we do something, people will respect it that much more," he said.

More good news - In fact, Federline's planning a promotional club tour, where he'll bring advance music for DJs to play so he can gauge fan reaction. "I'm excited about ... seeing the firsthand reaction of my fans listening to my songs for the first time," he says.

And hes already putting together his live show! "That's going to be the best part of my album is watching me perform it," he says. "I've seen so many stage performances and so many shows, the ideas I have for this tour are ridiculous. It's gonna be something totally different. You don't see rappers dancing, and I'm dancing for sure. And it ain't gonna be no poppy dancing. The people I got with me are a bunch of street cats who are ridiculous."

While we look forward to that, we can read into the K-Fed mind with the lyrics from
Americans Most Hated:

(Kevin Federline talking) Waitress, can I have another drink please? I'd like to formally introduce my self

Im the talk of the town

Thats the reason why they stare

4 karats in my ear

If you look see a glare

Im - one of a kind

With a wonderful rhyme

Im skatin off in a 'rari

You'll get left behind

My raps fully automatic like an AR

Droppin - nothin but heat me an JR

Im livin life in the fast lane

Then the cash came

Fire wont quit, still burnin like a gas flame

They watch me

So i duck and roll

Middle fingers still up sayin f*ck the globe

And my dawgs still down

We dont trust them hoes

I live life like a King

I was extra stoned

Kevin Federline -

I come tight with every rhyme

I built a kingdom down the street from pepperdine

This marijuana got me heavily sedated

Im Kevin Federline

America's most hated (what!)

(talking) Aww yea baby - JR mane, JR you there mane? Hey man, why dont you pass me that

bottle over there guy

Im on the frontline

Dodgin cameras like the one time

Cant even chill in this california sunshine

But its okay, i got somethin for ya

Im handin out ass kickins like diplomas

Who the first to get it?

Ya know K Feds wit it

All that sh*t rappers talk about, I already did it

Im committed - to the game

The fames why I hustle

Lyrical exercise, workin every muscle on the double

Chief and commanda

Hand ya

Ass to ya in a basket wrapped in plastic

Im looney

All these model chicks wanna do me

Tabloids tried to screw me

Magazines try to kill me

But im nasty

Too f*ckin slick and sly

So high

I could prolly drop a sh*t and fly

You gonna need a big army

If you comin for me

K. Federline - I hit like tsunamis

(talking) whoo - yea baby, that sh*t is fire right there, you know what im talkin about?

Lets get drunk to this one damn it. hoo, one more jack and coke bitch

Im bigga than you

Im sicka than you

Im here now

So they not gon pay attention to you

They listen to dude

I sizzle the booth

Im livin the truth

You f*ckas talk sh*t

Couldnt fit my shoes

I got my blue yankee fitted on

Watch to match

Little boys we can get it on

Watch your back

I got my name spreadin faster than crack

And thats just a fact

Sucked in Americas hate and now im passin it back

Uh

Who told this bastard that he cant rap

I got 50 mill.

I can do whatever I want

I dont need a deal

I can do whatever I want

I just keep it real

I can say whatever I want

Dont buy my sh*t

I bet your girl ridin to it

With her hair in the wind

And her mind on the new kid

The most anticipated

But still underated

Kevin Federline - Americas Most Hated (what!)

(talking) Ah - thank you baby. I got a tip for you after this too girl, we all gonna go

swimmin with women...dont forget your swim suit.

Word.

Some advice to give, on how to be insensitive.

Last October I whipped out a chocolate covered orange marshmallow pumpkin at poker night. Everyone was appalled to find out that I LOVE them. Every week thereafter, for literally months, I received one every Wednesday via my account box at the comic book store (where I play poker).
Each week when I would pick up my comics, I would pick up my marshmallow pumpkin and not once did I ask who they were from.
Last night, as I attempted to sleep it occurred to me that I'm an odd duck not to wonder who had been gifting me with numerous artificially citrus flavored marshmallow squashes.
I wonder what that means.





















Did I let them down? Was it meant to be mysterious? Was this a gently meant teasing gesture? A friendly joke? A romantic overture? Did someone simply find them on sale? Why not leave a note? Who was it?
I guess it is hard to say at this point. After a while the marshmallow pumpkins piled up in my candy bowl, overflowing onto my table until I shifted the pile into my bread basket. Too much of a good thing, I couldn't choke another down.

Gas. Brake. Gas. Gas. Brake. Gas. Brake. Brake HARD. GasBrake.

After listening to NPR today I was meditating on gas use. $3.16 a gallon in LA. $3 even here in Seattle. All this time I have been thinking I want a Prius. I don’t want a stinking Prius. I don’t want to go 2 miles per hour, gliding silently like a ghost with the hiccups. I want a train system. I want to walk a few blocks to a train station, swipe a card and get on. I want it to run from Everett to Olympia. I want to be able to go from my door to downtown Seattle in 15 minutes every damn day. I don’t want to park or pay to park. I don’t want to ever give another foreign cab driver directions. I just want to get on a train and go. I don’t give a damn if it is on ground, above ground, or below ground but I very strongly believe that I shouldn’t be stuck in traffic for 45 minutes to go the 15 miles to Lynnwood at 6 o’clock on a Sunday. If I need to buy one object out there in the world, I want to hike over to the station, wait for a train, and go. I don’t want to waste gas and time taking my car to go buy a $2 bottle of nutmeg.
I hate you Seattle and your unhelpful obsession with monorailing and unmonorailing.

Suckling at the teat of the interweb

The best thing I have ever read came up at random on Wikipedia today.
Seriously. Ok Ok, fine, when I read in the Washington Post that Dick Cheney shot a man in the face, that was the best thing ever.
But "S. A. Andrée's Arctic balloon expedition of 1897" was hilarious. If you're a bastard. Which I am.

Raaaaawwwwr….

Lately I’ve been frustrated with my dear friend Steve, because he just isn’t as attentive as he could be. I send an email and it may become sucked into some sort of electronic black hole. So I sent him a message he couldn’t ignore.
Netflix has this fascinating feature where you can add your friends to a list a send them suggestions, share ratings, and spy on their queues. It helpfully told me that my buddy Steve rated a few movies a bit differently than most people. For example, Short Circuit = 2 stars for everyone else, but 5 stars for Steve. It also shows you the reverse..... You would think that Netflix wouldn’t allow you to suggest a movie to someone who has already seen it and given it 1 star. But they do.
I hope you enjoy your suggested film!

Pretty Woman!

"Plot:" Looking for directions to his Beverly Hills hotel, millionaire corporate raider Edward Lewis (Richard Gere) crosses paths with Hollywood hooker Vivian Ward (Julia Roberts) and hires her as his "date" for a week. Vivian gets swept into a fantasy realm of room service and boutique shopping on Rodeo Drive, and what starts as a business contract turns into much more. Can the poor prostitute and rich industrialist live happily ever after?

Tagline: She walked off the street, into his life and stole his heart.
As opposed to regular prostitutes that steal your wallet but leave you with The Syph.

Actual Reviews from Netflix Users:
“Aaaaw, nothing says Love like a hooker trying to bag a rich guy... which, I assume, is why Ebert found this flick so sweet: he empathizes. Dude, retire and take Roberts with you.”

“This is a great first date movie fellas, by which of course I mean great to gauge your date's reaction. If your girl thinks that a prostitute ceases to be a prostitute after a makeover, and that refusing to kiss despite a willingness to fellate for money is somehow redeeming and intensely romantic, then you can go right on ahead and hit the ejector seat. Or you can pay her, promise her a makeover NEXT time and get out of the car. Just don't smooch her on the mouth, lest you insult her sense of morality.”

“I've always loved this movie, and after seeing the 10th Anniversary edition of the DVD - and watching all the extra bonus footage [I presume this bonus footage wasn’t of Julia Robets fellating truckers and taking it in the butt], I really love it more now. Who cares if it's all about something that normally doesn't happen in everyday life [Really? You’re shitting me.]. It was still a great "fantasy" to watch. [Yes, a great fantasy of mine is to peddle my orifices for money in the hopes that a man 20 years older than me will pity me and buy me ludicrous hats.] A woman who didn't really enjoy her job and wanted to change herself, and got to thanks to people who could really help her - and not her drug-addicted friend in the movie. [Because drug addicted hookers are stupid and useless, not like perky hookers and rich men. Stay off drugs-- but on your knees, kids!!!!]"

“What woman wouldn't love this fairy tale? I'm not a big Richard Gere fan, but this movie made me like him. [Oh golly, what woman doesn’t enjoy being shown that if she’s lucky someone will swoop in and have her suck cock for free for the rest of her life!]"

“Well done and tasteful [there were far fewer scenes of Julia Roberts shooting up or crying in the shower than there could have been] but still very funny [Still funny? Would shooting up scenes made it funnier? Actually, yes.] . Makes you feel like it could be you. [If I were a prostitute.]"

“There is nothing much to say about this movie...... if you still believe in disney's 'wish upon a star' just rent this movie and you see that dreams can come true - it's just one of this 'feel good' movies that's made once in a while. [I totally remember that part, you know, where Pinocchio is peddling his wooden ass on the street, but then Jiminy Cricket picks him up and makes him a real boy, I mean Man, I mean... wait what? Oh no, I was wrong that was from the Silly Symphony where Minnie is walking the street for cheese and takes up with Mickey even though EVERYBODY in Hollywood knows he’s gay. ]"

Anticccciiiiiiipation

According to wwtdd.com:
J.J. Abrams directs Star Trek movie - J.J. Abrams, the creator of 'Lost' and 'Alias' and the director of 'Mission Impossible III', was announced today to produce and direct the next 'Star Trek' movie for a release in 2008. It will be written by Abrams and his partners, and focus on the early days of James T. Kirk and Mr. Spock, including their first meeting at Starfleet Academy and first mission. With Abrams at the helm, this should fulfill every fan boys dream, as long as their dream was to have a 'Star Trek' movie that's brilliant for about an hour and then rambling and unfocused and boring. Yea!

Actually this is exciting news coming out in time for: the 40th Aniversity of Star Trek (first aired on September 8, 1966). The big celebration is here in Seattle this year. I'm kind of tempted to go, but it is WAY too expensive! I was raised on STTNG.











Actually this part was quite touching, you remember, when Wesley Crusher graduated from the Academy and got his own uniform and everything! There was all that hugging, and crying, and kissing the TV....


Or maybe that was just me.

Maybe I should volunteer. That might be fun.

Let me know if you want to join.

Anyone?

Hellooooooo? Where is everyone?

Ok, Ok, Ok,

Fine, I admit yesterday’s entry was not entirely fair, but it just burns my buttons. Sure the Hotel Rwanda character Rusesabagina was a probably a greater man than the real Rusesabagina, but one of the articles I read went on at length about how he “didn’t really want to help” or “didn’t do enough.” Nobody “wants” to endanger themselves or their families for the sake of others. Part of sacrifice is to fight against what you want to do. He didn’t have to take in all those people. But he did. I believe that risking your life and future livelihood for a couple thousand strangers is a lot. I don’t know what “enough” would be.
In a country where neighbors, co-workers, church brothers, and strangers slaughtered each other to broadcast music chanting ‘kill them, kill them, kill them’ saving even one person is “enough.” Hell, not chopping people up with a machete is probably a big step in the right direction.
Nobody in Rwanda could have stopped what happened at that point, but a few million people in America, Canada, or Europe could have. Making these movies may remind some of us that real people (not dark savages) are fighting and dieing and we can stop it, even though we don't have to.
I don't want to be the world police and it makes me frustrated that the world treats the US like their cousin who won the lottery; but in 1994 I was surfing in Hawaii, not being raped and slaughtered in the street.

Dear Rwanda,

Get a clue. America does not care about you. They didn’t care in 1994 and they are only marginally interested now because of the score of films that have been created. I’m terribly sorry that these fictional films are not accurate. Perhaps you think we should go back to the not giving a shit?
Quit complaining. This is bringing more attention to the plight of Africa. Attention and money. Which I am sure you are not turning down.
I’m sorry about what happened. All of it, Germany, Belgium and everything after. I really really am. I’m sorry for what happened in Liberia, and Nicaragua, and America, and Afghanistan too.
I’m sorry our movies cannot perfectly please everyone. I’m sorry that America doesn’t fly around like Superman to right injustices.
But I’m really sorry that you are so shortsighted. Either get up on your own two feet and walk, or let the Americans come and film their movies and send you their shame money.
If you want to help Sudan and Chad, shut your mouths. We don’t owe you shit.

In other Devo news...

New (and HORRID) T-shirt design available:










Thank you interweb!

Purdy Pictures

Every time I go to a museum there seems to be one piece that just hangs with me. I find myself thinking about them years later. Invariably nobody else likes them, but I think I'll share two with you anyway.

The first is called Sine Cerere et Libero friget Venus or Without Ceres and Bacchus, Venus Would Freeze. It was painted between 1600 and 1603 by a Dutch man named Hendrick Goltzius. It is ink and oil- a very rare medium. It has the effect of an old book lithograph with actual fire coming from the canvas. It is warm and amazing. I first saw the painting on a date at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.



















The next is a self portrait by Degas. Degas (I'm sure you know) is most famous for oils and pastels of dancers. He also created amazing sculptures of dancers. I saw this small self portrait tucked away in a corner of the Getty Museum. It seems lifelike and I can't trace his expression. I love oil paintings.

I've had it up to here with you, Switzerland!

What's wrong Switzerland, no wars to abstain from? Lost your economic advantage?
You think you're soooooo cool; "we're neutral, above all your petty cares." You're not Quakers, you're pussies!
Well, have fun being the country where criminals hold their money. Good for you, very neutral. When Charles Taylor goes to jail, does his wife get the money? Or do you get a new pair of sneaks?
Now you are offering European woman a place to go oggle Swiss Wussy-boys while their husbands are busy watching football. I don't think it is nice to steal other nation's wives. And I know this sounds crazy, but many women all over the world love football and will be avidly following World Cup. Women like sports too... all those tight buns, I mean excellent uhm... goals... and stuff.
Shame on you Switzerland for.... hurrrr hurrrr hurrrr......















Uhm.... I've always wanted to go to Switzerland.

Poca-stinken-hontas

She gets her own movie and licensed plushes, but let’s discuss Pocahontas for just a minute. (Yes, Burke this is a slight departure from my Sacagawea diatribe but do bear with me.)

In 1607 John Smith set sail with a group of around 200 British sailors, settlers, and gentlemen on a race to beat Spain to settle North America. The men arrived poorly provisioned and in the command of inexperienced gentlemen, who funded the venture and were there to pan for gold in Chesapeake Bay. (Hint: there is NO gold in Chesapeake Bay.) They chose a location on an outcropping into where the James River met the bay and they named their settlement Jamestown.

Meanwhile Powhatan, the local Indian chieftan (Pocahontas’ dad) had heard a disturbing “premonition” from his medicine man. The man predicted that a great devil was mounting up to destroy his people and that the first attacks were coming soon. Powhatan who had enemy nations in the area poised his 1300 clansmen for battle.

A combination of disease (possibly the plague), famine, salt-polluted water, Spanish spies and Indian attack had resulted in rapid death in Jamestown. Within 4-6 months no gold was found and there were approximately 50 men (mostly) alive.

Finally John Smith decided to throw himself upon the mercy of the Indians. He approached them asking for food. Powhatan was very much leaning towards just killing them all. However, John Smith had brought glass beads for trade, and as it turns out Pocahontas had an eye for the shinies. Powhatan seeing Pocahontas’ interest in the beads considered what that could represent to the people and agreed to help John Smith out.

Of course later the Jamestown settlers kidnapped Pocahontas, baptized her, taught her English, renamed her Rebecca, and married her off to a white guy (even though she was already married). Not content to live only a portion of the future of the Native American People in 10 short years, Pocahontas took it upon herself to go to England in order to find the pox-filled blankets that the Jamestown settlers had neglected to bring and promptly died of TB or small pox at age 21(ish).

On the down side Pocahontas played her small part in creating a world where Kevin Federline can produce his own CD

(illegally sampling She Blinded Me with Science); on the up-side, she got a nice sneak-peak at what was coming.

My frustration erm... ripens.

This was how I felt this morning on my way to work.

And this is how work made me feel.

Grumble snort.

Now I'm hungry and I can't eat my snack because it keeps LOOKING at me.

Wilson? Willlllsooooooooooon.

C.V. Victor von Doom

I was random articling Wikipedia today and came across Latveria. When I clicked over to Victor von Doom's wikipedia page I realized how hilarious it is to read a biography of a made up person.

Goals: "Doctor Doom is driven by three principal objectives: the destruction of Reed Richards, world domination, and the liberation of his mother's soul from the demon Mephisto's realm. "
Doctor Doom also enjoys pina coladas, and getting caught in the rain. He's not much into yoga, but he is into champagne.

"Dr. Doom's iron-clad face is instantly recognizable to most of the world's population, a fact attributable to his infamous, high-tech, nuclear powered, computer assisted battle suit. Doom's first (and truly "original") set of armor was magically forged at a hidden monastery in the high mountains of Tibet; since then, his dark plated armor has been enhanced and repaired by normal technological means. "
Ah yes, world domination via Tibetan monk magic.

"Being the leader of a sovereign nation, Doctor Doom enjoys the grace of diplomatic immunity while in America during the few times he is there for non-pernicious, political actions and diplomacy. He has even been accompanied and escorted by Captain America himself."
I can see it now, "Well President von Doom, last time you were in New York you took the city over with mosquito nanno-bots, but since you're here for the Middle East Peace Summit, have at it!

"In 2003, Doom realized he was unnecessarily limiting himself by focusing on technology, and only occasionally his magical birthright. He sold his childhood sweetheart's soul to a trio of demons in exchange for unlimited magical ability and new leather armour made of her skin. "
Yes, naturally, armor made of skin. Fantastic. Technology is on its way out, it's all magic starting now! I should get me some of that skin-armor stuff. Macy's, they've got everything, right?











Uhm this was an available option for "victor von doom" according to Google Images, so live with it.

Submit unto me...

your 'blankier thans'.
You know "drunker than a..." "crazier than a..." etc.
Here's the one on my mind presently:
Crazier than a mule on a Ferris Wheel.
Surely you guys can do better. Enlist a Texan if you must, but send me your 'blankier thans.'
Incidentally, this is a mule on a Ferris Wheel. A GIANT mule.

I knew it!

They were always after me french bread pizza!

What can I say, I guess I'm just a problem solver.

I've solved, the immigration, Medicaid, Social Security and Medicare issues. The solution is called De-immigration. Kids, you can all go back to school tomorrow.
Don't you see, it's brilliant, we take anyone with sustained unemployment and we give them six months to get and hold down a job, any job, or we deport them to one of many countries (like Romania) that is suffering from major depopulation issues. Many of these countries need "workers" and compared to the locals, these people may be highly educated. How about people who committed felonies? Three felonies= "welcome to Mexico." Rapists, murderers? Treat America like the pound; when we're all full up, put the undesirables down to make room for useful immigrants.
Everyone applying for Medicare/Medicaid/Social Security will have all earned the right to the money. And now with all the spare space we could poach the hardest workers and best minds of other countries.
I recommend that we cherry-pick Cuba first. One, Cuban men are hot. Two, think of major league ball!

















Incidentally, I'm glad all these highschool kids are protesting. Too bad nobody gives a shit since they can't vote. (And like most young people in America won't vote even when they have the right.) Beyond that, it's just nice to see kids using MySpace for things besides jailbaiting.
PS- Less marching more writing. You don't want to look like these idiots.

Heroes in a half-shell; moron power!

Gotcha!

As I write Charles Taylor is being shipped to Sierra Leone for trial. The authorities caught him attempting to flee to Cameroon.
I’m all excited to see a little law and order executed in Africa. Maybe a real trial with real results will show other would be terror brokers that Africa will not lie down and take it. Though the thought that is niggling at the back of my mind is that had he gotten across the border, surely someone there would have helped him and there would have been another round of extradition pressures. Who are these people who are not afraid to openly say “I am harboring a man with 17 counts of war crimes and crimes against humanity.” Where is the shame?
Furthermore, I am absolutely astounded that Taylor didn’t try to sneak back into Liberia and raise what remains of his power base for one last hurrah. Maybe like Hitler in the bunker, Taylor finally saw the writing on the wall.
Let’s cross our fingers that Taylor will get a fair and thorough trial. I’ll be watching this trial with baited breath, too bad I’ll only see clips of it on BBC World News. Still, quite exciting though. Of course these international tribunals against war crimes don’t allow the death penalty. What a pity. My opposition to the death penalty is that even innocent people will confess to a crime they did not commit on occasion. However the weight of obvious evidence in this case leaves me with the overwhelming thought that Charles Taylor doesn’t deserve another nanosecond on my beautiful world.

I'm on tap of the world.

Dear Happy Tappers,

I am so glad that you have found a place to practice your antiquated niche dancing. It’s so refreshing to hear you clacking along in unison like sprightly homosexual members of the SS.

I love how you flood into my neighborhood like cute little locusts in your SUV’s. I love how you drive the wrong way down my one-way street. I especially enjoy how you park, right in the middle of two parallel spaces, three feet from the curb.

Last night I was surprised to hear that I lived in a “bad neighborhood.” I’m glad that you, Jeep Grand Cherokee lady (2 feet from the curb) were polite enough to lower your voice as I carried my SIX grocery bags 2 blocks back to my apartment past your Jeep parked in front of my door. Yes, you’re right I do look a little like the “bad elements” you were referring to and God knows that folks who shop at Whole Foods are just a wee bit too close to the edge. I’m sure you were referring to Juan, the waiter at the Mexican restaurant next door, who is surely a rough character. There he was, in his crisp white shirt smoking on the curb on his 10 minute break. He’s from Ballard you know, I’ve heard bad things about those Ballardians. Anyway, it was super sweet of you to drive your friend the one block to her car. Although since I just passed that way I could’ve just told you there was nobody else there.

Oh well.

Anywho, love the legwarmers! I guess I will see you next week.

Love,

Your Neighbor

Hey! Good news everybody!!

There are 33 murders a DAY in Baghdad. Or maybe there aren't. Hmm... seems like a lot of controversy. Perhaps with no law and order and no infrastructure it might be hard to tell what the number really is. We know that the Washington Post counted 100,000 civilian deaths as of October... but those could have been regular civilian casualties and not murders. (See shake and bake. Damn I forgot I was pissed about that.)

Luckily Donald Rumsfeld is clearing this whole thing up for us: "You've got to remember that if Washington, D.C., were the size of Baghdad, we would be having something like 215 murders a month." AWESOME.

This is totally comparablele to 990 a month (if you don't know how to count.)

On the other other line of thought. If we had no cops and ample machine guns America would be populated by two fat white guys from Montana named Bob.

Incidentally, property values must have just plummeted in DC. Thanks Rummy!!!

I smell burning pants....

So here are we are, back at Charles Taylor. In the last episode Charles was spending the millions he liberated from Liberia and Sierra Leone while in blissful Nigeria. Now apparently Nigeria is willing to give him up to Liberia, Liberia wants to send him to Sierra Leone for trial and mysteriously Nigeria isn't erm exactly sure where they put him. My guess: Brazil.

Can I just spaz a wee bit more about this? Thanks. 17 counts of war crimes and crimes against humanity and since 2003 he was sitting by a pool drinking booze out of glasses garnished umbrellas, and now they lost him. The article I read this morning, which brought me back to this issue was entitled: "Liberia, Nigeria at odds over Taylor custody."
2 points:
#1: "at odds," you think? I love it when my neighbors harbor war criminals who illegally ruled my nation and stole my nations wealth in a zesty campaign of "civil war" and random killings. Don't you?
#2: "Taylor custody?" What custody? Oh gosh erm, Chuck's around here some where. Uhm, let's see, maybe he's in the yellow pages under ruthless dictator. I feel suspicious that Nigeria is finally bending to the will of the west in such an orderly fashion....

Oh, I’m sorry, have we met?

Today I was perusing Best of Craigslist, looking for luscious humorousness. Instead I found another exciting diatribe about how straight people ruin the lives of gay people.

Let me say this once.

I’M NOT SORRY.

I’m not sorry I’m white (which, might I mention I’m not)

I’m not sorry I’m straight

I’m not sorry I’m Christian

I’m not sorry I’m privileged (would this be a good time to mention that I grew up in a trailer?)

I didn’t enslave anyone, least of all anyone’s ancestors
I have never beat up a gay person or any other person
I have never voted to remove the rights to marry or adopt or abort
I have never told anyone they are going to hell

I don’t care who you marry, who you screw, or where or if you go to church. I don’t care what race you are or where you went to school or how much money you make.

So don’t you dare accuse me of anything. I’m tired of being the scapegoat for all your problems. I’m tired of being your enemy. I’m tired of people trying to make me feel guilty for things that I have never done.

Keep your bigotry to yourself, I don’t have the time or inclination to bolster your martyr-complex.

The Year of Oh HELL No!

I'm reading an acclaimed book right now, Maria Dahvana Headley's The Year of Yes. It came highly recommended from a friend who thought I might enjoy it and catch more of the literary allusions. She's right on one count. I am catching her literary allusions, literally 5 to a page.
I hate hate hate Maria Dahvana Headley. HATE. I am about oh... one chapter into this book and I already hate her.
Point #1: She's still bitter about her childhood in Idaho. (Well get in line, sister.) On page 12ish she talks about how none of the guys in her high school wanted to date her because she is curvy and vaguely ethnic looking.
















Does she not look like a regular old cracker who very very badly needs a sandwich? And also a bit like Smeagol? Meep!
Perhaps the reason she didn't get asked out is evidenced on page 5 where she casually mentions that she sowed her own clothes and would wear such exciting ensemble as a patch-work toga held together by safety pins.
Perhaps the reason she didn't get asked out is because she's a pretentious, self-deluded bitch who uses the word "Kafka-esque" and expects snaps. She claims to be a playwright. Playwrights, don't just write plays. They sell plays that are then performed for people who pay money. I'm assuming she was just as self-deluded in high school.
Perhaps the reason she didn't get asked out was because she mistakenly thought she was too good for Idaho.
Point #2: When she announces to her roommates that she is going to go out with anyone who asks including construction workers and taxi drivers one roommate (also vile) says "You're not going to sleep with them all are you?" Maria Dahvana Headley pauses and thinks, "Oh I usually do- even though I don't want to." Let me ask you this, if there is anything in your life that you can control, is it not who you sleep with? I can't control traffic or weather, but I am the sole proprietor of my lady-bits. Anyway, then her vile roommate says "Eww, what if he's like a dog-walker from New Jersey." I'm sorry, but she is an unemployed, egomaniacal, snaggle-toothed, crazy, slut from Idaho. At least a dog-walker has a job.
Point #3: Maria Dahvana Headley made sure to point out that the major down points of Idaho are the prevalence of serial killers (all from the NW apparently) and white people. I would have thought depressed economy, lack of economic diversity, lack of metropolitan culture, and rednecks- all sorts would be the issues of complaint. That and the potatoes.
Don't worry, I hate this woman so much, I can't stop reading. I can't wait till she gets the clap or has sex with a married man or maybe an artichoke.

Devo 2.Oh-oh

Today I was looking for a song in I-Tunes and misclicked to the children’s section. There was a banner for the next big thing in tween music: DEVO 2.0

DEVO 2.0 is all the original hits of DEVO (Whip it and …. uhm… Whip It) and a bunch of other DEVO songs (I would conjecture) remade by what appears to be a tone-deaf 12 year old girl.. While the music was actually physically painful (to say the VERY least) I found the customer reviews to be quite entertaining. I read 78 reviews of the CD “DEVO 2.0,” as recorded by the band DEVO 2.0. (It seems as though these kids have never heard of the band Big Country or they might have seen how this is gonna go down.) Here are some excerpts from my favorite customer reviews (not changed in any way):

-This Music Is Like The Originals But It Is Like Crazy Frog. I Listen to It Every Day

-Ever wonder what DEVO would sound like if all its members were pre-pubescent children? Yeah, me neither.

-Bottom line: it sucks, the apocalypse is coming!

-I’m speechless. Just listening to the previews was proof enough that this is the worst piece of garbage that I have ever heard. DEVO was pure genius. Dressing up spoiled rich kids to make them look “new wave” is an insult to my intelligence….

-I guess this is ok… not!

-Shoot me. What’s next? NIN 2.0? Please, Disney, PLEASE stop! What’s wrong with kids listening to the original artist? Last time I checked, Devo didn’t drop too many f-bombs in their catalogue. This album is a sign of the apocalypse.

-The horror. A Devo cover band devoid of irony. This is horrendous. I can’t say how much I detest this piece of devolved excrement.

-WOW. This is some craptacular carcrash… it’d totally open up that coveted canine demographic. This is landfill. Treat it accordingly.

-Way to RUIN Devo.

-I’m going to try to forget that this exists.

-I am in peace when I hear Devo, but I am in hell when I hear DEVO 2.0; so if you want to get this waste of time (not to be rude) you should really get Devo!!!! Because there are some kids willing to do anything for money, just like these kids!!!

-This is a complete rip off and they have nothing in common musically with the actual band. (Devo)

-My ears are throwing up.

-I would give this no stars if I could.

-Tee-hee. This is funny. I think I like it, and that scares me.

-What hath Disney wrought. This is a horrendous mockery of the Devo name.

-DEVO is one of the most influental new wave bands there ever was. To think that a bubblegum pop girl and her friends could give DEVO the respect they deserve was thinking too much. This is like kids bob for nerds.

Canadian, Hooker, Cowboy.

William Shatner

Although best known for his role as Captain James T. Kirk in the popular “Star Trek” television series and movies, William Shatner has appeared in dozens of productions, ranging from “Judgment at Nuremberg” to “Miss Congeniality.” He brings his unique presentation style to “Extinction!” as the show’s narrator.

The Montreal native was graduated from McGill University and began his acting career in 1956. He appeared in several movies before earning fame as leader of the “Star Trek” ensemble cast and, later, in the title role of the police-themed television series “T.J. Hooker.” He currently stars as lawyer Denny Crane on “Boston Public.”

Shatner has hosted TV’s “Iron Chef USA,” “Rescue 911” and “Saturday Night Live.” He has appeared in Broadway productions, recorded music and created the “Tek” series of science fiction books, which became a Canadian TV series. He is also CEO of Core Digital Effects, a Toronto-based company that has produced digital effects for movies.

In 1999, Shatner received an Emmy Award for his guest appearance on “Third Rock from the Sun.” He earned a Golden Globe Award in 2005 for his performance on “Boston Public.”

In addition to his work in the entertainment industry, Shatner owns a horse farm in Kentucky, where he shows American Saddlebred and Quarter horses. He and his family live in California.

William Shatner, You Crafty Bastard!

As an Aside, I would LOVE to mention that the title of this picture file was "extinct_shatner." When I clicked to view where Google Images took the photo from, I found it intriguing that the Moorehead Planetarium chose William Shatner to narrate a show called "Extinction!" Below it was an interesting biographical note (which I shall post momentarily.)

Have you seen this? The William Shatner DVD Club. A banner ad for it was running over some garbage I was reading on the interweb. This is one of those DVD subscription programs except you get "Exceptional movies for the Sci-Fi fan!"

Major slogan: "Own the Underground Hits No One Else Has!"

"Join the William Shatner DVD Club and Discover Great Movies! William Shatner has culled the thousands of films he has seen into a collection of the best Sci-Fi, Horror & Fantasy movies available."
"Proprietary Playlist- Only members can enjoy expert selections from the William Shatner DVD Club. We never publish a list of our constantly evolving collection.
Memorable Titles- Members receive stimulating movies selected from the classic Shatner Collection or one of his most recent finds. "

Some movie examples:

I've actually seen this one. On accident. I swear. Ginger Snaps
"Caustic and refreshingly twisted, Ginger Snaps is a frightening fable that puts a credible and modern spin on the traditional werewolf movie. Sisters Ginger and Brigitte are ostracized by their town and classmates because of their morbid inclinations. After being attacked by a wolf, Ginger begins to exhibit some bizarre behavior while embracing a new lust for life. Brigitte is caught in the awkward position of deciding between saving her past self and joining Ginger in her transformation."

I think that I saw this one too. I believe it was called Ghost Busters II. Or was it Stargate? Gosh, I've seen so many movies! The Immortal (Immortel ad Vitam)
"Based on the French graphic novel by Enki Bilal, Immortal was one of the first films to use an entirely digital backlot to create a stunning fantasy world where gods, mutants, mortals and aliens converge. A floating pyramid has emerged in the skies above Manhattan in 2095, inhabited by ancient Egyptian gods who have come to pass judgment on one of their own, a falcon headed god named Horus. Horus must find a human host body to inhabit and a mate to preserve his immortality. In his quest he becomes irrevocably entwined with a blue haired girl embarking on an analogous journey. Stunning visual effects meld with poetic surrealism in the telling of this epic fantasy."

And of course the stunning:Dragon Storm
"Dragon Storm was developed and commissioned as a Sci-Fi Channel Original Picture. Set in the Dark Ages, the bitterly opposed rulers of two neighboring kingdoms put aside their rivalry to combat an alien-dragon menace. A team of fighters must brave death and destruction to defeat the fire-breathing dragons and ensure the future of mankind."

Featured Directors:
Stuart Gordon Born 1947 Illinois, USA – Notable Films Directed: King of the Ants (2003); Dagon (2001); Fortress (1993); Re-Animator (1985).
David DeCoteau Born 1962 Oregon, USA – Notable Films Directed: The Brotherhood (I-IV); Leeches (2003); Wolves of Wall Street (2002); Puppet Master (III / VI / VII)

Shatner's personal message:
"There is nothing quite as exhilarating as discovering a Sci-Fi, Fantasy or Horror classic-to-be that has gone unnoticed by the general movie watching population. I've personally chosen a select group of movies that were entertaining, original, and memorable to share with you. I hope that you enjoy them as much as I did [baby]." William Shatner.

I think my favorite part of the website is the "Weekly Poll: Which was William Shatner's finest Star Trek performance? ST2, ST3, ST6, or ST5." I can't believe that ST4 wasn't even listed! You know it's the one where they travel back in time to rescue a whale and Spock teaches a young punk on the bus the value of conformity via Vulcan Death Grip. Or was it the one where they traveled back to feudal Japan? Wait, no that was the Ninja Turtles.

I can't decide what to think of Good Ol Billy. He has spun an entire career off of a shortlived 60's TV show where the main plot device was him trying to touch alien boobies. He is either a complete joke or frighteningly brilliant.

Word of the day: Initiaivity

So guess who has 54 things on her 101 things list? Look Ma I am moderately less mediocre
That's right, I am once again doing things. Walking the lake, doing my hair, shopping, applying for Grad School. Perhaps, once again updating my blog? I think so.
To celebrate the doing thingsness that I have recently reclaimed I give you the most precious of my gifts:




Yes, this is a bunny with a Belgian waffle on its head. God, waffles are AMAZING. Thanks Google Images!

You gotta know when to hold 'em... and know when to run.

A family friend, my aunt, and two of my cousins and I were playing cards and my aunt was very very tired. She admitted that she would rather just go to bed than stay up and play any longer. We told her to go, but she hesitated. I said, "What you think we're going to run to the liquor store and pick up some booze and cigars?" Just then my youngest cousin, now 11, pipes up with "And nail polish." We are all staring at him like what the hell, our minds immediately swooping back to the time we all got grounded for painting his nails, when he clarified, "To sniff it."
Of course then I have to open my yap and say "You can't huff nail polish."
Great now two of us are in trouble.

Looking for Love in All the Wrong Places

Today I was browsing through the songs available to upload to my new phone.
I had carefully browsed each category until I arrived at "90's." I opened it up and was shocked to find that there were only two songs in it. Apparently the music of the entire decade can be summed up by the following two songs.

Song One:

Pump it up

Song Two:

Pump it up (remix)

Incidentally, I am sorely tempted to pick Mrs. Robinson as my mother's song....

You Better Work

Today I read this great article that postulated a new and exciting theory as to why our mainstream kids are falling behind: they're lazy bastards.
I couldn't agree more.

Ben Stein = sexy beast.

What follows is the transcript of an editorial that Ben Stein wrote for the December 18, 2005 CBS Sunday Morning.


Here at this happy time of year, a few confessions from my beating heart. I have no freaking clue who Nick and Jessica are. I see them on the cover of People and Us constantly when I'm buying my dog biscuits. I still don't know. I often ask the checkers at the grocery stores who they are. They don't know who Nick and Jessica are, either. Who are they? Will it change my life if I know who they are and why they've broken up? Why are they so darned important? I don't know who Lindsay Lohan is either, and I don't care at all about Tom Cruise's baby. Am I going to be called before a Senate committee and asked if I'm a subversive? Maybe. But I just have no clue who Nick and Jessica are. Is this what it means to be no longer young? Hm, not so bad.

Next confession: I am a Jew and every single one of my ancestors was Jewish, and it does not bother me even a little bit when people call those beautifully lit-up, bejeweled trees Christmas trees. I don't feel threatened. I don't feel discriminated against. That's what they are — Christmas trees. It doesn't bother me a bit when people say 'Merry Christmas' to me. I don't think they're slighting me or getting ready to put me in a ghetto. In fact, I kind of like it. I shows that we're all brothers and sisters celebrating this happy time of year.

It doesn't bother me one bit that there's a manger scene on display at a key intersection at my beach house in Malibu. If people want a creche, fine. The menorah a few hundred yards away is fine, too. I do not like getting pushed around for being a Jew, and I don't think Christians like getting pushed around for being Christians. I think people who believe in God are sick and tired of getting pushed around, period. I have no idea where the concept came from that America is an explicitly atheist country. I can't find it in the Constitution and I don't like it being shoved down my throat. Or maybe I can put it another way. Where did the idea come from that we should worship Nick and Jessica and aren't allowed to worship God as we understand him? I guess that's a sign that I'm getting old, too. But there are a lot of us who are wondering where Nick and Jessica came from and where the America we used to know went to.


I like Ben Stein. The snarkiness is pretty hot.

Un-Intelligent Design

So I read this article this morning about how piles of money are shockingly not greatly improving the lives of lottery winners. Why ever might that be? Could it be that people who pay a dollar a week for a one in a billion chance at unearned riches are not amazing money managers?

The lottery is the only system of welfare paid for exclusively by the people who can least afford it. The lottery is wrong. Your lotto ticket buying grannies are subsidizing under-funded programs that should be paid for by funded state mandate. Supporting the lotto is encouraging our government to tax the poor for social programs designed to benefit the poor (while the rich buy yachts and pinch bottoms in St. Barts.) Furthermore, allowing the poor to elect one person to be rich obviously doesn’t benefit the community and also doesn’t benefit the newly moneyed individual. Most folks who have the capacity to earn reasonable wealth are doing so and are not spending money on the lotto.

Winning the lottery is kicking Darwin in the nuts. It’s setting up a survival of the least fit situation. I can give my dog a flux capacitor, but he’ll just piss on it; it takes a Doc Brown to stick it in a DeLorean and err… popularize rock and roll. Can we please stop giving these dogs flux capacitors? Can we please leave Darwin’s nuts alone?

Another example: warning labels. You mean I shouldn’t tip a soda machine onto myself? I shouldn’t drink Drain-o? Au contraire, I say. If I have the God given American right to be an asshole, I think I should have the right to accidentally kill myself, should I be a complete idiot. Think of the babies people say. What of it? When was that last time you saw a baby trying to jiggle a Snickers out of a candy machine. When was the last time you saw a baby reading Dostoevsky? How about a Goodnight Moon? No? Well then what are the stickers for? Adults. Stupid adults. Mr. Yuck stickers are for kids. ‘Don’t jump into lion’s enclosure’ signs are for their moron parents.

Let idiots be idiots; how about instead of granting million dollar settlements to people who spill coffee on themselves, and allowing legalized gambling to fund our schools, we ask everyone (including corporations) to contribute towards better schools and hospitals. This way we don't have to give any old idiot a million dollars to put up his nose for ten years before he's back in the government cheese line, just to partially fund full day kindergarten for a year.

Baby Beluga

After my sudden realization of the finite nature of life and my wasting of said life I came to the conclusion that I need to do more. Instead of laying about the house reading this weekend, I needed to do something. It seemed to me that the hole in my life could easily be filled with polar bears. I LOVE polar bears; they’re my favorite animal which could easily tear off my arm. (Favorite animal that won’t tear of my arm: the tapir.) After only a small amount of arm twisting even my tough guy 11 year old cousin will admit that they are the “cutie-est.”

I decided to take said cousin to the Point Defiance Zoo and Aquarium in Tacoma to witness cutie-est-ness in action. Neither of us had ever been, and soon we’d persuaded my aunt and uncle to join us. It was a nice winter day- by Seattle standards- crisp, grey, and cool. Bundled in mittens and hats we traveled from area to area, giving each animal its own cartoon voice. Mostly, it seems that the animals are bored, and would also like to eat us- even the tapirs.

I’d been worried that because it is winter, there might not be much to see. It turns out there is a lot to see at this time of the year. A LOT. A lot of penises to see. Everywhere we went all the animals were going at it, like uhm… animals. “Oh look red wolves…” I would say. “Oh my,” I would say shortly thereafter.

The worst (and by that I mean the worst thing I have EVER seen in my entire life) were the beluga whales. It started out innocently enough with the two whales playing with a floating hoop. They played keep-away and swiftly swam around dragging the hoop and swimming through it halfway like bloated, albino, ballerinas. Cute, happy, bloated, albino, ballerinas. It was like he was smiling. I bet he was smiling, the pervert. After a while I decided to go into the observation room below the water level and there is was. The scariest thing I’ve ever seen. A beluga whale penis. It was terrifying in ways I refuse to describe. Let me just say that if I was a lady whale I’d beach myself.

Unbelievably, my cousin didn’t even notice the 2 foot long erect whale penis. This is the same kid who at like 5 was watching Friends and turned to me and said, “What’s a condom?” I sat there for a second and then said, “I think those are for married people.” “What, so you don’t know,” he said giving me the look that said ‘you naïve, provincial thing.’ “Well, I’m not married yet. I think they’re for boys….” I said smugly going back to my reading.

Fajita sleeves

Yesterday I was eating lunch at my desk. Happily eating a fajita in one hand and clacking away with the other. Suddenly I catch motion out of the corner of my left eye. A huge chunk of fajita was sliding down my arm. Stunned I watched it fall into my sleeve. I have little to no feeling in my left arm (due to the removal of a nerve tumor a few years back) so apparently a tiny fajita juice lake had been pooling in the elbow of my sweater.
Now if that isn’t sexy I don’t know what is.

You May Be Right, I May Be Crazy...

"Self-respect is the fruit of discipline."
Abraham Heschel

I've always been obsessed with this concept. It's as though I really believe that if I am disciplined and work hard, and do everything right, I can be perfect and safe. But where is this taking me?

A while ago I tried to make a list of 101 things that I wanted to accomplish in the next 1001 days; the list was infested with things like "look into further retirement preparation," "re-prioritize investments," "build additional savings," "organize recipes," "organize holiday materials," "pay off student loan." Shouldn't I have first thought, "paint pottery," "learn how to crochet," "go to France," "skydive."

"Build additional savings?" For what? Plastic bins for my Easter shit?! Furthermore, I could only come up with 16 things. How terrible is it that the majority of my goals involved alphabetization or Consumer Reports? This is what I want in my published list of personal goals, "research and purchase a dining room table?" For the love of God, I'm researching furniture. I think I am finally losing it!

And of course my journal this year lists "New Years Resolution: Lead a more disciplined life."

Can you get more disciplined than having a will at 25? I even have a Porn Buddy. A designated friend with keys to my apartment, so that in the event of my death she will remove a bag with items I would prefer my grandmother not think I possess. I have a file labeled "In the event of Quiana's death," inside it is my will, a sheet of paper with all my account numbers and companies that need to be dealt with (insurance, bank accounts, etc.), and a list of music not to be played under any circumstances at my funeral (mostly angel related music).

Shouldn't I be scrapbooking shit? Or arranging flowers, or something? Instead of making earthquake kits and lecturing my parents on the value of renter's insurance??

Is it possible to be too prepared or is being neurotic and morbid simply my idea of fun? Is it ok to enjoy preparing for the worst that life has to offer?

You tell me.

The Horse Whimperer

This morning I was on the phone with Steve and I asked what his girlfriend and he had planned for the weekend. It turns out that his girlfriend has horseback riding lessons this Saturday. "Oh, riding lessons, cool. Is she learning western style or dressage?" I asked excitedly.
"Uhm... I don't know, I hate horses."
"How could you possibly hate horses?"
"Horses are vicious animals that will kill you on accident." said Steve.
"Hell Steve, I could kill you on accident."
"Well, you're not as big."
"But I bet I could still trample you to death."
"Probably not on accident."

Well, Steve I think that's the jury's job to decide.

Why should I change? He’s the one that sucks!

Today I attended a training entitled “Working with Difficult Behaviors (Including Your Own).” Yes kids, sensitivity training. Nice.
While I can’t fathom why I would like to learn to aid and abet assholes by tacitly agreeing that I don’t deserve to be treated with respect or professional behavior, I was quite curious as to what would be said about dealing with one’s own assholic attitudes. Also, the training was required.
I knew there would be trouble when I entered to find that the very very ethnic-y sounding named lady that would be leading the course was in fact one of those white people who’ve forgotten that every culture (including the various pale ones) have interesting aspects and provocative histories, thus have adopted whichever (though possibly a jumble of several) “Eastern” culture is readily available. She had a gong (hey onomatopoeia) and a Chinese printed Nehru jacket.
BONG! It begins.
Of course in the obligatory opening remarks we got down to the business of making shit up about feelings. We were told to always use “I Statements.”
Example of an “I Statement:” I feel bad when crazy-ass bitches yell at me over the phone because they failed to correctly complete and return their paperwork, despite numerous messages and emails before the deadline, which they’ve known about for literally 5 years.
Here’s an even better “I Statement:” I have a hard time taking my presenters seriously after they use the phrase “don’t let your life-fire die.” May I mention that the only thing burning inside me is the desire for Joaquin Phoenix and some Reflux Disorder symptoms.
Speaking of throwing up in my mouth…
First exercise of the day: write down the advantages to learning to more skillfully work with difficult behaviors. A good translation: how will taking it in the ass and learning to pretend that you like it improve your life at work?
Which leads me to this thought: the ENTIRE purpose of the meeting was to forcibly remove any expectation of personal or professional accountability from our peers.
Ok, I know you’ve all heard this a million times from me, but where the hell did accountability go?
Example of lack of accountability when negatively enforced:
I left my apartment a few weeks ago and as I walked to my car (parked on a quite narrow one-way street) I overheard two gentlemen talking. Gentleman #1 was saying to his friend, “I can’t believe some asshole hit my truck! They didn’t even leave a note with insurance information or anything!” Gentlemen #2, “What the hell is wrong with people these days?” I should mention that the man’s huge truck was a good 3.5-4 feet from the curb. Of course it did not occur to either gentleman that perhaps his truck got hit because it was parked in the middle of the fucking road! Why should someone stop to pay for damage that was caused to a vehicle illegally parked in the damn road? I might also mention that this road is the main access to the old folks home, tap studio, and architect studio on my street. I suppose the fact that customers, deliveries, and, oh say, emergency vehicles may need to, oh say, drive right there never occurred to this guy. While he was completely clueless as to the fact that his truck was likely hit due to his own stupidity, perhaps next time he will park closer to the curb.
Example of lack of accountability when positively enforced:
My cousin works for a very large luxury retail boutique corporation. She works the complaint line. (Her life must rock.) Anyway, one day she gets a call from some guy who parked at one of the locations and when he returned to his brand new Jaguar (HELLLLLLLOOOOOOO you just paid 50 grand for a FORD) someone has backed into it causing a rather steep garage bill and he “wants to know what VLLRBC is going to do about it?” He actually expected them to pay for damage that his car sustained from a non-employee while parked in their parking lot. Well, she tells him to go to hell, as nicely as possible. Well later this guy calls back, gets her boss on the line and VLLRBC agrees to pay for his car repairs and sends him a $150 gift card. What does this tell him? I yell, you pay.
Ah, the American Way.
Why should I positively reinforce abusive behavior, by being conciliatory and perky towards people who casually trample societal mores, office rules, and the law? Screw that, when people call me and start abusing, I have no compunction in interrupting to demand an email cc’d to both of our supervisors. Shaming people into appropriate behavior was your mama’s job, but if she couldn’t manage it I’m always happy to help.

What Would Tyler Durden Do?

Check out this website, it's my newest favorite.
Actual quote:
[Britney,] what the hell does it take for you to snap, to get angry and stun KFed in the side of the head with a cider jug and then strangle him with your rope belt. I promise you, no one is gonna care. Cops hate wiggers like dogs hate cats.

Insult + Injury

Last week I was very sternly instructed to stay home Friday and stay off my stupid foot all weekend. So I stayed home Friday; but I was in my apartment from Thursday at 6 until Saturday morning and I felt that if I sat in my apartment for even one more moment I would actually die.
Pajama clad, on crutches, in pig-tales and a Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy hoodie, I began my two block pilgrimage. I made it all the way to my beloved Albertsons (which was closing it's doors for good that very day) and I gazed upon it's beautiful convenience. Sighing, I turned towards the street, and put my hands in my hoodie pouch to get my netflix returns and letter to Charles. There in front of me was a completely empty patch of dirt. Let me clarify. In highschool, there was a mailbox there; in college, also a mailbox; last Wednesday, a mailbox; Saturday, a patch of dirt. Was my mailbox stolen? Did high school kids show up and throw it the back of their truck? Were they, at that very moment, watching people's netflix and reading their birthday cards? Did the Post Office show up and just remove it because Albertsons was moving? Surely mailbox locations are not contingent to Albertsons locations.
I was standing there staring at the ground when a beautiful young fellow came jogging past. Slowing to a stop he said, "Are you ok?" I said, "Yes, but my fucking mailbox is completely gone." As opposed to partially gone. Good job Q! "Oh, well I guess you can mail it at home." Here I am in Underdog jammy pants and a hoodie, on CRUTCHES, what does he think I'm on my morning constitutional?