pirates are cool. except i don’t like scurvy, salt water, dry skin, and smelly holds. ninjas are super stealth and wear sexy clothes. the best bonus is that they don’t worry about putting on makeup to impress society. they kill society.
thus, in conclusion, i’d like to be a ninja who hangs out with pirates occasionally at the local disreputable tavern. arrrgh.
we need a new fridge. in the three days since the discovery, i’ll bet many foods have perished. this has been, all around, a string of strikes in these here parts. boo.
reason number one why i’ll never submit to a corporate job:
there is no fucking way in hell i’m working under an idiot.
and by idiot i mean people who are apparently incapable of connecting from point two to point three — and yet are so damn proud of themselves for just getting to point one.
case in point:
look, you dumbass, the business world has been seriously wired to the nets for at least five years. you work for a large corporation. your title and position are in super managerial status. so please don’t fucking act all superior just because you managed to remember to correct the spelling of THE most popular gTLD. anyone who’s been wired for less than a month knows that rule. it follows then that someone of your position who’s been wired for much longer than that should know that there is never any space between characters in an email address or html link. it’s fucking called an underscore idiot. and you should know by now that those may sometimes be hidden if the link is displayed in the usual hyperlink underline style. get a fucking clue. if this was a truly progressive society, i’d be able to drop kick that smirk off your face.
and another thing, it’s called grammar. learn that shit. people not in your business would have no clue what the fuck your message was about because your poor grasp on articulation is such that the average college grad would be confused. how in the fucking hell do idiots like you get the job?! or even stay breathing?!?!?!?
no, i did not wake up cranky.
this is like those idiots who get hit by an email virus EVERY SINGLE DAMN TIME there’s a big one making its rounds. god forbid they should ever learn not to take candy from a stranger. the only people i excuse from repeat of this behavior are old people and kids under 10. they’re still getting used to the process…and in the case of old people, they probably will never truly integrate the concept of internet use into their lives. that’s fine. anyone between 10 and 60 who keeps opening each and every damn attachment they receive regardless of the sender…you fucking deserve the virus wash. email attachment viruses are some of the greatest inventions because it screens out the dumbasses who’ll never learn and keeps them out. too bad there isn’t a similar screening process for prospective parents.
self-evaluation is a lifelong journey and, at this period in time, a constant struggle. i’m trying not to bitch and complain about every single thing that annoys me but damn (here we goes), mtv’s sweet sixteen show incites a staggering amount of anger. there’s only so much that editing and coaching will skew a perspective. segment cuts might delete the more “boring” parts consisting of, let’s hope, possible mature moments in the lives of the girls featured. and i’ll even give a bit of leeway for people’s tendency to act up because they’re being filmed. but if statements such as “i’m a woman now, i deserve this!” fly easily, then producer-coaching seems more likely to be an encouragement of misguided ideas on girl power than anything that might have been forced.
sample one-liners from yesterday’s “alexa” episode?
- i don’t want to cover up! …when trying on an extremely revealing belly dancer outfit.
- then you’d better give me the $3,000 [difference]! …when told by her mother that the center pieces chosen were less expensive than the ones she wanted.
- [i'll be so hot at my party] that he’ll regret breaking up with me!
- i’m totally a daddy’s girl.
- screw my dad! …when told by her mom to okay her belly dancer outfit with her father first.
wtf is up with the parents?! dad spoils without guidance and overshadows any of mom’s attempts to draw the line (not that mom puts up much of a fight when the tears and tantrums start). i’m really trying to stay away from being overly analytical and academically snooty just because i took a women’s history class — though, imo, i got lucky cuz i took THE women’s history class — but mtv is not letting me. each episode of this !@%#$#@! show features progressively spoiled brats mired in the world of looking sexy, owning name brands, and friend/boyfriend back-stabbing — all in the name of reaching “womanhood” at the advent of the magical sixteen. of all the parentals, there was only one mother who had enough responsibility to lay down the law: “you’re not getting that party until you pull up your grades!”; otherwise, it’s been an endless parade of teen girls who think turning sixteen years old automatically indicates maturity. they interpret self-confidence as “i always get what i want because [insert i rock, i'm stuborn, or i'm worth it] and apply such to every situation to get their way. apparently turning sixteen is the deadline for their parents to buy them a car, let them spend furiously in pursuit of the “perfect” party, and allow them to dress up in outfits that are This Far from decency (or even indicative of a unique personality). none of these girls are genuninely mean-spirited but (my god!!) the obsession with sex, sexiness, materialism, status, reputation, adoration…that list just goes on and on. infuriating and depressing at the same time. theories and passages from brumberg’s the body project keep flashing through my mind. there are many MANY parents out there who need a serious smack upside the head. where the fuck were y’all when these girls were growing up?!?!?! and you know what? sixteen means that they are still growing up. in fact, they won’t be done with the majority of growing up till they’re thirty-five if we calculate in the pitfalls and failures of today’s society. loving does not mean giving them everything they want that you yourself may never have gotten. please stop perpetuating the worst of human personality traits in our girls people. when hulk hogan raises his kids with more sense and responsibility than you, then you’ve got serious parental issues you need to address.
END preaching/complaining/angsty emo spill.
why am i doing all these things?! i don’t even care enough to do that kinda shit for myself and yet, lookie here, sucking it up and wiping the arses of all the monkey acts around me. maybe i should be a social worker or something. at least i’d be paid to improve people’s lives.
the newest endless repeat
stoled from the angel soundtrack. delicious.
home! early!
somehow the ipod hard drive cleaned itself out. tried to shuffle in the car today and it just wouldn’t play. bizarre.
i don’t get why anyone’d buy a sports car, artfully arrange bullet hole stickers on their license plate holders and then drive nearly 10 miles under the speed limit on a pretty empty street. i also don’t get the girls who gussy up just to go to class. heels? mini-skirts? elaborate hair-dos? why?!!? for heaven’s sake, you’ll have to do plenty of that lameosity once you go working in a corporate environment. that’s part of the reason i quit…fuck having to wear “nice” clothes everyday. no one’ll ever pay me enough to dress up on a daily basis. appreciate the sexiness of jeans people.
just do it
i’m looking for a planet that doesn’t have stupid people. or, at least, the stupidity to round off the gene pool isn’t so extreme that progressive action won’t seem so damn attractive a solution to improve the standards of societal intelligence. basically, the suv who cut me off today on huntington will just have to suck down my rear ending his fat ass. i have this daydream of how i’ll have the power to elevate vehicles into the air whenever they make an illegal maneuver. the next time i see a speeding car make a u-turn at the garfield/atlantic/huntington junction or someone honks at me to turn right on red at del mar and lake, i’ll mentally shotput their car fifty feet straight up into the sky — where they’ll just stay FOREVER. where’s the perfectly justifiable law that’ll allow me the satisfaction of kick boxing the crotch of the guy who was pointedly scratching his balls in my direction in the library this past saturday? i’m through with words, with being understanding, with trying to scratch up even an ounce of sympathy. let someone else be the pastor. drop kicking asswipes in the crotch’ll remove the possibilites of reprobate reproduction and permanently eliminate idiots from my space.
bill of rights ya hippies, the Bill of RIGHTS says i can dammit!! in other words, i’ve been in agreement with the right to bear arms (9mm, hand cannons, elephant rifles) since 1998. ya know.
the first meat meal in 49 days and ugh, never ever ever buy the pasta and thai chicken pita crap because it tastes like…crap. never ever buy their egg salad thingie either. contrary to the laws of impossible possibilities, it is totally possible to screw up egg salad.
peeve-tastic
people who complain that current life/social life/night life is boring are stupid. annoy the shit out of me. and i don’t make that statement lightly because i’m often contispated. ferchrissakes people, get a life dammit! i don’t have enough hours in the day to do what i want to the point of enjoyment saturation. if you think anything is boring, then just hang yourself off of a yardarm right now…save society from your retardedness. we don’t need anymore whiners and/or non-imaginative lamers.
this goes to anyone who’s made the “i’m so bored!” statement on their lj/xanga/myspace/blogger/AIM/msn/chat box/passing notes in class. and people wonder why i prefer doing things on my own. ha.
someone in this computer lab has that fishy body odor. ew. ew ew EW.
ewe?
have yet to mention that one of the profs here looks like matthew perry — fully with the square face, square hair cut, even the glasses. so now in addition to a stargate crusader, there’s a friend wandering the hallowed halls of pcc. fabulous.
figures that the one night i actually sleep in a bed i wake up to pain. sore right shoulder hooked up to sore neck muscles means that all morning i’ve been struggling to keep my heavy head upright. it’s like trying to balance a melon atop my torso. huh…maybe i should photoshop that.
and in other news, i’m sleepy. i think imma snag some grub and then hunker down in my tank for some zzz’s.