Wednesday, February 28, 2007


How many people have actually read through the entire Bible? I'm guessing the answer is something like seven. Yet so many people list The Bible as a favorite book. Look around sites like Facebook and MySpace, and you will see a relatively large number of people who have included it in their favorite books. I doubt that all of these people have read it cover to cover.

Really, in between taking pictures of yourself at drunken frat parties, watching all eighty-seven of your favorite TV shows, and writing ten-thousand notes, you probably didn't have a lot of time for serious Bible study. Also, do you not see a problem with listing both The Bible and The DaVinci Code in your favorite books? Don't they inherently oppose each other? Of course it's very possible that you enjoyed The DaVinci Code for purely entertainment reasons, but you can't also find The Bible to be entertaining. It's actually quite a boring read.

I'm talking about The Bible from a literary standpoint. I'm not going to touch what it means in terms of world religion and all that shit. I (sort of) believe in democracy, but the US Constitution is a fucking boring document. You're allowed to believe in Jesus and not be riveted to your seat while running through all 23,897,462 dietary laws in the Old Testament. I highly doubt that God will judge me poorly because I was not entertained by a book that random men assembled over the ages. If anything, I'll get a bad verdict because I am a jerk.

Do you truly find it to be such an excellent read? I mean, what's its re-readability value? Some books get better the second or third time around. I can't even imagine how much more boring The Bible gets, and I've read through significant portions of it. I've read the fucking DICTIONARY and I was still bored by The Bible.* Can you even engage in a remotely literary conversation about it? Do people ask each other:
You read The Bible? Me, too! Who was your favorite character? I'm partial to Jeremiah. He was so much more sympathetic than Isaiah, don't you think? I can't wait for the sequel. But I was so disappointed in the ending. I mean, the Christ-like figure is so overdone. Was the author completely basing everything off of Narnia? Clearly, this "Jesus" character is based on Aslan. And once I hit chapter 3 in John, I knew how it was all going to end, so it was a bit anti-climactic. What did you think of it?
If anyone has had a discussion remotely resembling this, please let me know. I am super curious.

Unless you have read the entire Bible and thoroughly enjoyed every scintillating verse, don't list it as a favorite book. I'm amused by certain portions of the movie Octane, but I'm not going to include it in a list of my favorite movies. I've seen snippets of Erin Brockovich thanks to its constant playtime on TNT, but I have no idea if the entire movie is any good. I'm just not equipped to make that decision. Reconsider the criteria needed to deem something as a favorite. Does The Bible fulfill all, if any, of these?

I'm guessing no.

* It wasn't by choice. I was forced to do so by my mother and only got through the first fifty pages or so. It was still more interesting than The Bible.

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

SRT #32

So there were rumors of $2 video games at Best Buy yesterday, and since I had so conveniently neglected to go to work, I decided to check it out. All I wanted was Harvest Moon for the DS, and they didn't have it in stock. So while I'm perusing the other DS titles to see if there's anything I might want to play, this kid tries to kick some game. It ended with me asking how old he was (16). I then asked if he had any idea how old I am. He did not have a good answer, which was a shame. I was able to contain my laughter during my quick exit from the Nintendo aisle, after which I could not stop the laughter from pouring out of me.

I think I made him feel bad.

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Goodbuy, cruel world.

I really can't stop myself from buying things. Leaving my credit card at home won't help because I have the number memorized. If shopping is a cancer, I am definitely at Stage IV and have only two months to live.

At least I'll be well dressed.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

I Definitely Have a Problem

I cannot stop buying things; it is getting to be problematic. Is it wrong that within the past six weeks I have bought five pairs of shoes among many many other things? Is it bad to blow through more than one week's worth of pay in at essentially three stores? I'm guessing that for most people, the answer to both these questions is:
Yes, this is a problem. You need to get help.
The first step to addiction recovery is admitting you have a problem, and I definitely have one.

Now the real question is: Do I really want to recover?

Thursday, February 15, 2007

I Don't Get It

People tend to forget that I am a girl. I don't take it personally, as I tend to forget as well. I don't mean that I think I'm a dude for a moment in time, but when God was handing out personality traits, I was late for the girliness hand-outs while stocking up on sarcasm. In the last couple of weeks, the girliness that I do possess has been coming out in full force in the form of fear of being fat.¹

There are a couple of reasons I turned out less girly than average. I could blame it on having only a brother and no sisters, but there are plenty of other people with brothers that are super prissy little things. Maybe it was just being around more boys than girls in my family while growing up. When I think about my early childhood, I have more memories of my grandfather, dad, and uncle than of my mother and aunts. Of my older cousins, the boys usually paid more attention to me, as the girls were off being too cool for the family. They eventually got over it, but the damage was done.

Whenever I was around girly things my own age, I remember being confused at boring and/or impractical behavior. Why would I spend hours dressing up a Barbie only to redress her in something else when I could be beating my brother with a bamboo sword? Why pretend to cook fake Play-Doh food when I could play street hockey and hit people? Some things just never made any sense to me. They still don't. Well, intellectually, these things make sense now, but I just don't see what's any fun about running a fake household. In any case, for however many reasons, I am not girly.

The reason for this "when I was a kid" introduction is to give a little insight into something about me: I hate girls. I don't hate them all, but girls fucking annoy the hell out of me.² For the most part, only girls will pretend to make nice and then call you a whore behind your back. I'm not saying that guys can't be two-faced either, but girls have a stronger track record in this event. In the same vein, I'm not against being polite to someone I dislike, but I won't act like we're super best friends. If you know that I don't like you, and I know that you don't like me, don't act like everything is just peachy. I'm not saying that I want to start shit where no shit needs to be started, but I'm not a fan of the obvious lies. It is quite possible to have mutual dislike without a shit storm starting. Of course, if I'm attacked, I'll retaliate in due course. I'm not gonna roll over and take it like a puppy.

Over the years, I have picked up a couple of the girly traits I missed as a child. I really am quite good at the passive aggressive game when applicable, and I won't deny being a bit of a stereotypical Asian girl³ on occasion.

But I fucking hate girls.

¹ That's a lot of "f" sounds in one sentence. Try saying that 2,847 times fast.
² And that's a lot of hell.
³ To be called "a fucking typ" from here on out.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Ctrl + Z

So I tried to remove hatred from my life. It did not work. At first, it seemed to be going OK, and I was getting along better with everyone. I even got a raise at work. But then these little worms started to burrow out of my skin, and I was coughing up blood, and then these weird voices kept telling me that arson isn't really that bad.

So it's back to the hating for me. I'd like to send a collective "fuck you" out to the world to make up for lost time.


Tuesday, February 13, 2007

SRT #31

We got sent home from work early today because of the weather. I'm pretty bored and have no desire to venture back outside. Chances are that I'll stay home tomorrow as well.

This is why I need a Wii.

Friday, February 09, 2007

A New Beginning

It's time for me to be honest. I can no longer live in this world of lies that I have created for myself. This is not my only transgression, as I've lied to anyone that has ever read anything on this blog. It is time to step out of this world based in shadows and lies and rejoin the world of truth and light. I, too, am capable of becoming a better, holier* person.

I realize now what the source of all my hatred is: jealousy. Recent events have opened my eyes to this fact. I always thought that if I embodied any of the seven deadly sins, it would be sloth, or even gluttony. I was wrong. Jealousy is what drives all my thoughts and actions. It is time to fully cleanse myself of this disease. To make sure that I do this completely, I will go through and find all the instances where my hatred is really jealousy in disguise. No part of it will remain which can regrow and fester as a tumor within my soul.

1. I can only hope to one day be cool enough to wear ginormous sunglasses. Unfortunately, chances are that this will only ever be a hope, and never a reality. I realize that I am not among the best of society worthy of the privilege of looking like a person-sized insect. Alas, I must content myself with looking like a person-sized person.

2. I've been cursed with this tan skin of the Pacific islands. Only through the most extreme effort can I become orange. Since I will never be able to achieve the luxurious glow of a citrus fruit, I lash out at those that can and do. Please forgive me, you glorious creatures of the melanoma.

3. We all know that I love shoes. Dunks bring me a special joy that no other can hope to equal. That is something of which I am sure. Unfortunately, I will never be stylish enough to pull off a pair of crocs. How does one even begin to describe the beauty of the croc? I certainly don't know. All I know is that I wish I had a pair in every color.

4. One day, I will get a tattoo in a language that I do not understand. Only those with amazing levels of intelligence and self-confidence can acquire a permanant mark on their skin which they cannot decipher. I think that maybe, with enought therapy and Prozac, I could attain this level of self-confidence to run around with "Explosive Diarrhea" inked in Chinese characters on my lower back.

5. There is a history of adult onset diabetes in a certain part of my family. This is usually brought on by obesity. My seeming aversion to becoming obese is really a desperate plea to fit in with this body type. I really want to have a heart attack before I hit 25. I want to live to the age of 50 only with the help of a 38 pill drug cocktail every day. My jealousy has made me hate the thing I most want to become: a sick whale.

6. The thing I am most ashamed of is the hatred I have directed towards my own people. I really want to be cool enough to tYpE lIkE tHiS. I cAn OnLy DrEaM oF tHe DaY tHaT YoU wIlL NeEd To HiGhLiGht TeXt In OrDeR To ReAd It. I wish I tried to start beef using poor arument, logic, and grammer. Perhaps, I too, can free myself from the shackles of education and ignore all rules of English. One day, even I could induce seizures with flashing pictures of Hello Kitty and random glitter. I still hope against hope that I will be cool enough to have random X's and O'x in my name. In due time, no longer will I be "i write i," but "XiXwriteXiX."

Clearly, my hatred was just the avenue through which jealousy drove itself outside of my mind. Why, God, was I not blessed with the ability to be able to see the connection between pedophilia and my annoyance with such things?! Why did I not see that it was only a deep seated desire to become an AZN that drove me to such hate? Hopefully, I will be able to overcome these obstacles and embrace my desires so that they are not released in such a negative way. It is now obvious to me that I have been a servant of the Dark Lord, and only through God can I overcome this.

I am free of hatred.

* Than thou.

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Those Crazy Cows

On the way to work this morning, I drove by some kind of anti-cloning protest held by:
  1. people in cow costumes,
  2. cows upon which experiments have gone horribly wrong,
  3. people upon whom experiments have gone better than expected, or
  4. some combination of all of these.
I personally hope that it's the fourth option, but with a larger population of option three. Apparently, some people think that by eating cloned food, the consumer takes on genetic characteristics of the consumee.¹ Judging from what I glimpsed of their signs, they do not want to actually become cows. Have any of these people taken a science class? Perhaps they were too busy to go to class due to previous appointments with their local drug dealers, followed by a pressing need to not wash their hair. Maybe they were unable to attend class because they were plastering their vans with rainbows, sunshine, and peace symbols. Who knows? I'm not here to judge.²

In any case, the idea that the genes of your food become part of your own genome is absurd. If that were true, I'd be some sort of porcine creature by now.³ I dare you to find a viable source of nutrition that does not contain any genetic material. Normally, I would place some of wager along with this, such as a new car, or a Nintendo Wii, but seeing as you're going to die in a few weeks of starvation, there's no need to get my hopes up.

¹ Is that even a word? I don't think it is, but I'll still use it.
² Now I'm just being a liar. Of course I'm here to judge.
³ Preemptive strike: Assuming that I'm not already a bit on the porkish side.

Friday, February 02, 2007

Don't Touch Me

Why do stupid people insist on adding random X's and O's to their screen names? Yes, I understand that you really want your name to be "aznprydgurl," but at least 65,575 other unoriginal bitches have taken it, resulting in the creation of the names aznprydgurl1 - aznprydgurl65575. Other popular versions include multiple uses of the number 69, i.e. aznprydgurl6969, 69aznprydgurl69, and even aznprydgurl6[]9.¹ I am not a fan of strings of unmemorable numbers after a screen name, but nothing is worse than the endless X's and O's all over the fucking place.

In Hallmark tradition, X's and O's are equivalent to kisses and hugs, respectively. I have NO desire to hug or kiss you. I find you bitchy, judgemental,² and at least a little bit slutty. I refuse to succumb to your online hiv just because of your inability to come up with something at least remotely original. I do not require your screen name to be something new and exciting. There is no mandate for displaying Mozart levels of creativity. Just find something better than adding in random letters to an already stupid screen name.

What I hate most about this activity is that you can pretty much assume the user is an AZN.³ Why must my people insist on making me hate them?

¹ The [] symbolizes the body pillow used to seperate the 6 from the 9. Make room for the Holy Spirit!
² Judgemental in a bad way, not in my fun and entertaining way. Jerk.
³ NOT Asian.

I Can't Help Myself

Yesterday, I forgot to send someone a document at work. I remembered while laying in bed, about to go to sleep. The plan was to get out of bed a little bit earlier so that I could get to work a little bit earlier and send the document before the recipient even got to work. So of course, my alarm doesn't go off and I get out of bed at 8:53. I'm not sure what it is I have done, but God seems to have some sort of vendetta against me.

This morning's commute became an exercise of aggressive driving. Techniques acquired through years of treating traffic laws as merely suggestions were put into play. But no matter how quickly I can get through certain stretches of road, there will always be some factor that I cannot power through or maneuver around. It doesn't matter that I've gone the first twenty miles with an average speed of 85 mph, the fact that 17th street was unexpectedly reduced to a single lane where it had previously been two slowed me down considerably. Even if I had managed to get up I-295 in ten minutes, chances are that I would have only arrived one or two minutes earlier than I actually did because of the slow down on 17th. There was no way to pass the damned dump truck going all of 3.7 mph. It would be impossible to simply run down the officer directing traffic at Farragut Square who seemed to know that I was late, but made me stop at the green light anyway out of spite.¹ Even if I could have magically teleported my car straight into DC without dealing with I-295 or 395, the city would have found a way for me to slow down.

It was during this time that I realized how much of a science geek I really am. I've really been in denial about it for a very long time, but now there is no place for denial, only sweet, sweet acceptance. There can be no other reason but a deep-seated geekiness for the thought that overwhelmed all other thoughts this morning:
Damn these rate-limiting steps!

I'm not sure whether or not to be proud or embarrassed for myself. Part of me is deeply embarrassed. I've spent much of my life downplaying any sort of academic intelligence to others. (It got to be annoying that the grades gradually got lower as a function of the distance between others' seats and mine.)² In any case, I really tried to hide it. Somehow, I ended up in a science major in college.³

I think the majority of me is at least a little bit proud. I take (almost) endless pleasure in using terms that most people don't understand. I say almost because if you're actually my friend, the pleasure is not as great compared to making people I hate feel stupid. In any case, the comparison of the morning commute to a chemical reaction has forced me to finally accept that I am, in fact, a science geek. It's about time.

¹ Well, not impossible, but definitely frowned upon.
² And the geekiness continues to grow.
³ When I say, "somehow," I know exactly how, I'm just not going to tell you.