Tuesday, August 29, 2006
During the aformentioned conversation, I was accused of having a hidden mushy side. (I have a hard outer shell with no creamy center. Very unlike a 3 Musketeers Bar.*) Much to my dismay, this is true. I've realized that as I became more open about my musical choices, the more obvious my hidden mushiness became. Honestly, what pure hardass likes Journey?
This theory of music reflecting character can be applied to a variety of situations. Ladies, if your seemingly sensitive boyfriend can't hear enough of "Smack My Bitch Up," something may be a little off. Guys, if your girl has an unhealthy obsession with Melissa Etheridge you're either in for the greatest birthday present ever, or you're getting dumped for the local Birkenstock salesgirl.
My conclusion: before you get serious, take a sneek peek at that iPod.
* While I may never develop the soft creamy center of a 3 Musketeers, I definately have a more nougat-y center, not unlike a Snickers.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
For example, when I was a junior in high school, I went island hopping amongst the Greek Islands. I was super-excited. On the inside. On the outside, I was the picture of nonchalance. A friend of mine was perplexed with my seeming lack of excitement about this trip a few days beforehand. The point is, even though I rarely demonstrate excitement, I do feel it. And I really did feel it for that trip. And for birthdays. And for vacations. And for all those things people usually get excited about.
In the last couple of years, however, I haven't had anything to look forward to. My birthday came and went, and while I did celebrate it, I didn't really care. Christmas: not a big deal to me. I'm sorry, but I just can't bring myself to care. The closest I get to excitement is vaguely looking forward to something, but even then, it comes and goes. I look forward to certain things, like parties, but in all honesty, I could take it or leave it. Shit just doesn't seem to matter to me as much anymore. It kinda makes me sad.
Right now, however, I think I've recaptured that feeling of excitement/anticipation you get when you're really looking forward to something. I'm not gonna say why right now, as it will get around soon enough.
So now you're wondering: if I want to keep the reason for the excitement on the downlow, why even write about it? The fact that I'm truly excited about anything is news enough for me. I didn't get excited over going to college, graduation from said collage, the first job, the second job, getting my driver's license, and all other such events. (Not in this order.) But I am undoubtedly excited about this.
I'm so excited.
Here's the thing. Carrie is super annoying. It didn't really sink in with me while the series was still in production. At that time, I just wanted to know what happened, and the only personalites I really paid any attention to were those of Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte (mostly because they actually had personalities). On rewatching episodes, I found Carrie to be more and more annoying. In a show where the audience sides with the women by default, I found myself on the sides of the men she was dating.
For example, in that episode where she follows Mr. Big and his mother to church to finagle a meeting with the mother, I wanted to shake her horsey head until it popped off. I never understood the desire to meet someone else's parents. It grosses me out. For me, no one's getting introduced to the parents until there's some sort of engagement,² and even then, I'd still put it off as long as possible.
This is just one of many things that made me grow to hate her. Another is that incessant shrieking at everything in life. I assure you, there are more reasons than this for my annoyance with Carrie, but these are the only ones I felt like mentioning.
With this in mind, I ask you people who think they're the Carrie of their circles of friends: why do you want to be the Carrie? Are you a selfish, high-maintenance, shrieking shrew of a narcissist? If not, do you want to be? And if so, why? If you happen to catch the reruns of Sex and the City or have access to the DVDs, take a look at her and contemplate who she is. Don't be that person.
¹ "Super Random Tuesday" was getting too annoying to type in full each week, so it's been redubbed "SRT." Also, I am fully aware that it is now officially Wednesday (at least it is on the east coast), but I haven't been to bed yet, so in all practicality, it's still Tuesday to me. Get over it.
² Also gross. Ugh. Commitment.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Why do people insist on acting cooler than they really are? There is no real advantage in doing so. In fact, it makes me hate people that do it. I don’t mean hate as in: I hate when the candy store doesn’t have my favorite flavor of Jelly Belly. This is what I mean: I hate with the fire of a thousand suns. If it wouldn’t land my ass in jail, I would personally rip the aorta from of each of these people with my bare hands, and then mock them by turning it into some sort of finger puppet.
First, let’s define the action of acting cooler than you really are. One who does this abides by the following protocols:
- Purposely seeks out what is currently being labeled as “cool,” irregardless of who is setting these standards.
- Attempts to follow these trends in spite of their natural tendencies/limitations
- Achieves this attempt in a manner in which it annoys much of the population.
- Successfully causes such distaste with the “cool” behavior that those who actually enjoy such things are put off from them.
Hopefully, you will soon be able to recognize such behavior in those surrounding you. Unfortunately, I will not teach you how to rip aortas from people’s chest cavities. (You’ll need to do that on your own time.)
For the purpose of the argument against acting super-cool, I am going to focus on people who are over the age of twenty. While this behavior does inspire hatred for those under twenty, the immediate results of such actions are vastly different. For twenty year olds, I’m going to assume that they’ve finished high school, and have either been in the work force or in college for a year or two. This time period should have provided enough life experience to stop acting like a child and be able to at least fake adulthood. In addition to that, you would think that someone at that age would be able to make their own decisions as to what appeals to them, irregardless of who is touting what is to be labeled “cool” or “uncool.” At this age, they really should just know better.
The best way to convey why these people are to be hated is through example, so here's one to get you started:
The Wannabe Urbanite
If you’re from a suburban gated community where each house has at least one BMW/Mercedes Benz/Lexus in the driveway (‘cause the nicer cars are in the garage), don’t act as though you’re from the ghetto. It’s unbecoming on you, and frankly, you can’t pull it off. Here’s what I think happens in your mind:
- “Hey! Look at what they’re wearing on that horrible/mindless/void of intelligent thought show: TRL! Who cares how ridiculous it looks?! I’m going to do the same! Listen to their unnatural use of urban slang! They gotz mad skillz, dawwwg!
- “I’m gonna talk like that no matter how wack I sound! For shizzle my dizzle. Screw my $150,000 educizzle! I’m straight street(izzle).”
Personally, this is what I generally believe people are thinking when they make such poor life decisions. Unfortunately, this internal monologue is only half of the problem. The rest is executed as punishment to the rest of the populace, which is thinking:
- “Look at that chick talking like a fool. Making the rest of us (with $150,000 educations) look like idiots.” OR “Why does she keep quacking? OH! She’s trying to say wack! Dumbass bitch.”
- “That bitch is not wearing the same thing as me. I’m never wearing this outfit again. Who cares that it actually looks good on me and makes her look like a Stomp reject? She’s tainted these clothes forever.
Are you following my logic here? Not only have these girls perverted urban style and culture, they have successfully ruined said practices for others. It is one thing to keep up with the times, it’s quite another to spoil it for everyone else that it actually does work for.
It doesn’t really matter what you’re trying to do when you act cooler than you really are. It all comes down to this: There’s a reason most of us don’t pay attention to you, don’t try to attract it by acting like an asshole. When it comes down to it, you’re a show-off. And nobody likes a show-off.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
This is a Mokona keychain I think I got in maybe…1996? ’97? Something like that. But it really is the most adorable thing in life. And useful! This thing can generate anything you need from that jewel thing on its face. Hungry? It can make sandwiches. Tired? It’ll pop out a hotel! If only it existed in real life and not the crazy world of anime.
Hey kids? Remember this crazy contraption? It played “tapes” and could tune into the radio without any extra attachments? Yes, I know that this is before a lot of your times, so you need to understand that many of us in this world never heard of an mp3 until we were 14. Crazy, isn’t it? Here’s another bizarre aspect of this ancient version of the iPod: it uses batteries. None of that rechargeable shit. I know what you’re thinking: How did you live in those days? Those things can only hold like what? 100? 200 songs? I’m sorry to say, kids, that these can only play one tape at a time. So your audio storage was limited by the tapes. (Yes, I know they’re not sticky in any fashion, but that’s what they’re called. Tapes!) Well, how much did each tape hold, you ask. Perhaps 75 songs? Oh, child, no. We were not so lucky. Generally, if you made your own tape (the amazing, the beautiful, the meaningful mixtape), you could record around 90 minutes total. That’s right, kids! A whopping hour and a half of music! Appreciate those 60 Gig iPods! I used to lug around a backpack full of tapes to keep myself happy!*
So that’s it for today, kids. Here’s a summary for today’s lesson: Some things about anime should be real, appreciate your tiny little things that hold five thousand billion songs, and those vaguely Asian bracelets need to make a comeback.
* Coincidentally, I would do so whilst walking barefoot to school across razor blade roads and then through iodine rivers.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Have you noticed a marked decline in the quality of Disney movies? Because I definitely have. Recall the magic of such films as Aladdin and The Little Mermaid. Compare this to the excrement of Hercules and The Lion King ½. It makes my heart sad. It really does. I still know the lyrics to such gems as "A Whole New World," "Hakuna Matata," and "Be Our Guest." Can anyone say the same for "Listen with Your Heart" or "A Girl Worth Fighting For?." Really now, does anyone give a fuck about what happened to Pocahontas according to the warped Disney version? (From what I understand, John Smith was quite the jerk.)
Personally, Disney’s only saving grace is its association with Pixar. Unfortunately, this doesn't excuse its endorsement of shit. Don’t get me wrong. I love the Pixar moves (Finding Nemo is my favorite), but there’s something to be said for a quality traditionally animated movie.
Monday, August 07, 2006
Clearly, the sun is not responsible for this “tan.” It’s not even right to call it a tan, so I’ll start again.
Clearly, the sun is not responsible for this “orange.” Really, only fruit should be anywhere close to this shade. It amuses me because some unknown spector of the universe has enacted some sort of revenge on her. Since she’s too good for a natural looking tan gained from appropriate amounts of exposure to the sun, she is now the actual color of the sun:
CRAZY LADY: I don’t have time to get a real tan, I want a more concentrated form of skin cancer. Bring on the tanning bed!
SUN: Don’t have time for ME!? We’ll see where that gets you:
CRAZY LADY: At least I’m not pasty anymore.
Remember, there are really only five basic colors of people: black, white, red, yellow, brown. No where is orange on that list. Stop defying nature. It’s not cute.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Now for the exciting conclusion of the
Even though we didn’t get to sleep until around 5:00 AM, our room wakes up around 10:00. We only have one full day in
After learning this information, we head out to Nikki Beach. Jack drove us there, dropped us off, then went home, so it’s just me, Jane, and Jill. It’s a really nice place, but it’s too bad that they’re big party night is on Sundays, so we miss out on that. The lunch is pretty good, and we chill out with Coronas and Sangria. During lunch, we text the Moms again to see what’s up. No answer. So we text again actually asking for an answer, which we do receive this time. They’re eating lunch at some other place which is fine with us. So now the plan is for them to meet us at Nikki Beach for drinks (Mojitos by the pitcher) and then head to the beach. An hour and a half later, we find out where they are: still eating lunch, and they’re going to drop off their leftovers at the hotel. Are you serious?! Still with the leftovers?!
At this point, we just head to the beach and I get in a quick nap. An hour later, around 3:00, they show up, which is fine by us, except that we’re hot and the inner darkness is starting to show on our skin. Now, I’m perfectly happy to have a nice tan. In fact, I welcome it with open arms, but I don’t need to change races or look like a leather baseball mitt some poor kid left outside in the sun for the entire summer. So we stick around for another hour. At 4:00 we tell them that we’re going to head back to the hotel and shower and handle all of that. We ask what they want to do for dinner, here is their answer: We might just eat leftovers. Are you serious?! Leftovers!? They also note that they’re probably going to take naps when they get back to the hotel. Fine with us, we find out what we need to know, and we head back.
After another series of phone calls, we get a timeline. Apparently, they’ve decided not to eat their leftovers and want a new dinner that night. We make plans to meet up with Jack for drinks around 6:30 so that we can get to dinner around 8:00. Strangely enough, he’s early, so we hurry up a bit and get out around 6:15. Now, we told the Moms exactly what we were going to do: go back to the hotel, shower, change, meet up with Jack for drinks at 6:30, then have dinner at 8:00. Jack would be gone after drinks, and had no effect on our plans. Really, even if we weren’t meeting up with him, we weren’t about to sit in the hotel room waiting for them to get ready. We would have gone somewhere anyways.
So we’re walking towards dinner with Jack (he’s going to leave once we get there), and we’re a block behind the Moms. Normally, we’re probably be about even with them, but I was wearing my crazy heels, and my feet hurt retroactively from the previous night, when I also wore madness, so I was not the quickest walker in life. (This will be discussed at a later date.) We finally get to the restaurant, and for unforseen circumstances, we can’t eat there. So we start to walk towards Sushi Samba. On the way, we pass this place called Santo. The Nazi looks at the menu, which is posted outside, and decides to eat there. The entrees cost $30-45 and the appetizers are in the $10-15 range. Given that this is pretty pricey, Jane suggests that we walk the one extra block to Sushi Samba, which isn’t a cheap place, but is more reasonable that this. The Nazi insists on this place, declares that she’s hungry and is acting like a two year old. Fine.
We get a table and try to decide what to order. The three of us (me, Jane, and Jill) get the filet mignon, since we figure we might as well get something good. The Nazi and MOH only order appetizers, saying that everything is too expensive. At this point I’d like to remind everyone of the fact that the Nazi wanted us to pay for all of the BTB’s expenses, yet she did want to spend the money for an entrée. As an additional note, you will remember that she insisted that we eat at this place even after looking at the menu and all of the prices. Clearly, she’s not the brightest crayon in the box. Her appetizer consists of one cigar-sized eggroll, and the MOH has five good sized dumplings. They looked so hungry I wanted to laugh. My steak is delicious. I could barely finish it I was so full. I even had some leftover, but please note that I didn't take it back to the hotel.
We finished dinner around 10:00, and we had plans to head out to Mansion, which, apparently, is the place to be. Here’s the deal with Mansion: to get a table, you’ll need to buy a $100 bottle or pay a cover of $15. The Nazi is insistent on us getting a table, so that would be $20 for each of us (minus the BTB) to get the table. That’s not bad, especially since we originally thought we’d have to buy the $280 bottle. Also, the tables don’t come into effect until midnight, so we have a good hour and a half to two hours to wait for that. When we get to Mansion, the line is pretty short, so Jane suggests that we just wait in the line and see what happens first: midnight for the table, or getting in through the line.
Unfortunately, the Hustler store is right across the street, and the Nazi insists that we go in. So we do and have a good laugh at some of the stuff. While this is happening though, the line decides to grow. Very quickly. So Jill and Jane cross the street to grab a spot in line. In the meantime, I stick around the Hustler store to help hurry things along. Now, I’m no prude, but it’s kind of gross for me to be hearing about mothers’ sex lives.¹ Eventually, they get through the full tour, make a couple of purchases, and we’re out of there. After some confusion, the Nazi manages to get us in for free.²
Mansion goes pretty well. Again, we bought rounds for everyone, but the Nazi only bought rounds for the Moms. At this point we just ignore it and move on with the night. After Mansion, we go to a place rumored to have male strippers, but that doesn’t come through, and we head back to the hotel. That’s pretty much the end of Saturday.
¹ Especially when I’ve known one of them since I was six. You know how when you know someone for such a long time, they’re always at a certain age for you, no matter what happens? Well, she’s about sixteen in my head. So I’m kind of grossed out.
² Even though she’s annoying/stupid, I give her props for this. She’s quite good to have around for things you need to get done immediately. For example, the previous night, she managed to finagle a free bottle of champagne from the bartender.
The following section deals with both Friday and Saturday, but it would be too confusing to deal with this at the same time as everything else. The separation of the two groups was blamed on Jack. The accusation occurred while the BTB and I were a bit behind everyone else while walking towards Sushi Samba. Apparently, the Nazi felt like Jack was the only reason for everything. Because of this, she was also placing blame on Jill, moreso than on Jane or me. I was told about this right after we ordered at Santo, when Jill said she wanted to go outside for some air for a moment. She was quite ready to throw down some cash and go back to the hotel. After some reasoning and dealing with crying (so not my scene), I got her to come back into the restaurant.
Here’s the thing: Jack had no effect on any plans that we had. He didn’t make us late for anything. We weren’t forced to change anything because he didn’t like a place or he couldn’t get in. Everywhere we went (when he was around) he just followed us around. Basically, Jack and Jill are being blamed for the bumpiness of the trip simply because a boy is present for part of the time.
On the other hand, when the Nazi visited her aunt, it made her pretty late and we were forced to adjust all of our plans in waiting for her. This period (three hours) of waiting also influenced our decision to just get ready whenever we woke up and then meet up with the Moms later at the beach. We weren’t about to sit in the hotel waiting for another three hours while they watched the Disney channel.
I’ll say that I did have fun in
Here’s what I’ve learned:
- Mixing groups of friends is hard. But if you’re going to attempt it, be the bridge. The BTB didn’t do anything to keep everyone together, so it was natural for the groups to split.
- Keep the lateness to a minimum. A few minutes is fine, three hours is obscene.
- Heels are ridiculous.
³ Also, saving (certain) leftovers would make sense on a longer trip.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
So we and the BTB arrive on Friday at about 5. The MOH is already at the hotel as she took an earlier flight and the Nazi took advantage of this
So the Nazi got held up a little while waiting for her uncle to bring her into the city. We’re ready for dinner at about 7:00. The Nazi finally arrived around 7:45. Knowing that her uncle was running late, she could have done her hair, makeup, something, anything to speed up the getting ready process. The MOH is ready to go and has been for a while. The BTB is in the process of doing some sort of poofy thing to her hair. So we’re waiting for the Moms to get ready, and suddenly, it’s 8:30. Ok. Let’s give them a call. No answer. Let’s send a text over. No answer. Let’s wait a little bit before trying again. At 9:00, we call and text again. No answer. At 9:30 we send Jane up to see what the hell is happening because we’re fucking hungry. They’re still in the process of getting ready. Poor space-cadet MOH has been ready for a while, but she just kind of shrugs when asked what the hold up is. So Jane let’s them know what’s up, we’ve been waiting, no one’s answering their phone, and we need to eat. Half an hour later, they are ready. We’re still not clear on what they did for three hours and I’m not sure I want to know. The answer will probably send me into a fit of rage/confusion that will take massive amounts of pills to overcome.
So all of us, including Jack, finally get to dinner after 10:00 and we’re all fucking hungry. Dinner was ok. It was pretty much one group at one end of the table and the other at the other end. So both MOH and the Nazi have leftover appetizers from dinner, calamari and fried mozzarella. Instead of just leaving it, they insist on boxing it up and taking it back to the hotel. First of all, these are the worst foods ever to have as leftovers, unless you enjoy chewing on tires. Also, we’re only in
So we all get back to the hotel around 4:00 AM. We’re pretty hungry so the Nazi suggests we go to some diner she saw. Once a couple of us changed, we headed out around 4:15. This dumbass leads us in a huge circle back to this diner that’s about two blocks from the hotel. However, instead of simply walking that two blocks, she had us following her ass for about seven. Ugh. So we finally get there, and order our late night food. The food’s pretty cheap ($5-13 range), so we all break out our cash for the bill. At this point, the Nazi says she needs to pay with her credit card because she doesn’t have enough cash for her $8 meal. Are you serious? The thing that annoys me about this is that she wanted us to be prepared to pay for everything in life, but she didn’t bring enough cash for this? My opinion of her continues to plummet. Clearly, she has no concept of money.
This is all pretty wordy, so I’ll summarize quickly: We had to wait three hours to eat dinner, and during this time, our calls were ignored. The Nazi's extra event (visiting her aunt) forced us to wait even longer to get the night started, while Jill's extra event (meeting up with Jack) had no effect whatsoever on any plans. The Moms were being exclusionary with buying drinks. Normally, I wouldn’t care so much, but we did get them drinks, and they’re the ones who wanted to go all out for this. At the diner, how does the Nazi not have enough cash to cover her food? Did she think
Stay tuned for the exciting conlusion to Miami: Attack of the Idiots!
As we are in the DC area, we needed to fly down to
At this point, it’s time to note that there are two separate groups of friends involved in this trip. My group includes me and two friends in
So Jill and Jane have been doing all of the legwork in finding good airfare rates and hotel prices. They’ve been doing the research as to what areas to stick to and what the general gameplan will be. So everything gets booked because of them. Two weeks before the trip, the Nazi sends us all an e-mail which essentially volunteers us to pay for everything that BTB would pay for: airfare, hotel, meals, drinks, everything in life. Now, we were all going to pay for her drinks and meals anyway, but the e-mail was quite annoying. Among other things, it made it seem like she did everything for this trip. We respond saying that we’d like to, but none of us are in a position to pay for that much stuff. She responds saying that we should, that it’s BTB’s time, and that she’s trying to do this even though she has to support her son.
Our reaction: So why don’t you fucking pay for your fucking son?! We wanted a cheaper trip, you’ve convinced the BTB to go with this super-expensive one instead, and you want us to pay even more. (Sidenote: The Nazi has been slowly taking over the BTB’s mind.) We didn’t actually tell her this, instead, we very calmly let her know that it couldn’t be done.
MOH’s contribution: Why don’t we fill BTB’s hotel room with purple flowers?
Our reaction: Are you stupid? Do you have any idea how much a room full of purple flowers will cost? You want to do this when we’re only going to be there for two days? Where are you going to get this money when you have two kids with a super-worthless baby daddy?¹ Again, we didn’t actually ask her these questions. We just ignored this tidbit and pretended we didn’t notice it.So we’re already annoyed with the Nazi weeks before the trip. There are a number of other infractions, but I can only type about so much annoyance at once. At this point, we just decide to suck it up, do our best to have fun, and try to not let the Nazi get to us.
¹ He has two kids and just decided to go to college. Normally, I’d applaud this. However, this is why I’m not: He’s attending a school which many people in our neighborhood commute to from home. Instead, he’s dorming and knocking up unsuspecting freshmen with his super-potent