Monday, January 28, 2008

An open letter to everyone who won't shut up about Atonement or There Will Be Blood:

I have now seen them both. You're welcome.

p.s. I have not yet seen No Country for Old Men. My apologies.

Friday, January 25, 2008

It's Friday, I'm in Love

with hating on this election. Seriously, no one is undecided. Fine. If you are, you are either a complete luddite and I applaud you although you are certainly not reading this, or you aren't really going to vote, so quit pretending like you are. Primaries are a useless joke, especially if you are from a state like Oklahoma. Unless you live in one of the important states, no one gives a shit. And if you do live in an important state, Chuckabee's evangelical God bless you. That must've been a nightmare. Maybe you'll get an extra chunk of change in your really well thought out economic incentive package rebate for tolerating your civic duty and Chris Matthews barreling into your living room spitting on your furniture. In the meantime, I hate all media, in spite of being oddly attracted to both Mika and Joe on Morning Joe (MSNBC weekday mornings from 3am until 11am). Right, so, since no one is actually undecided, let's just vote now. The obscene amounts of money candidates have raised to purchase tacky suits (Ron Paul, seriously, go to fucking Nordstrom or something - you have those in Texas), commission absolutely retarded and insulting commercials, and buy hordes of useless staffers can be donated to something worthwhile, like my student loans.

Tear that, Mika. Rip it up. Are you wearing your super sexy black boots today?

Thursday, January 24, 2008

Reason number 4,612πrˆ2 that I have to move out, like yesterday.

Yeah, I might still live at home a little bit. Let me tell you a story. There once was a beautiful little girl. Me.
I was a driven child, mostly due to fear of terrible retribution which might or might not have included grounding me from my Pocket Rocker™
or old school NES if I brought home anything less than an A to my school teaching parents. I grew up to repeatedly take the SAT, have nightmares about the ACT science section and busy myself with every AP class imaginable at my high school, all the while supplementing my CV with activities like Teen Volunteers, Mu Alpha Theta and National Forensics League. I did everything I was supposed to do, including dropping $1000million on application fees and even a couple of college visits. And then, the culmination of all of that hard work and unreasonable expectations was upon me. It was time to choose a college. It was then, after 18 years of grooming me for this expected achievement, that my parents let me in on a little secret. They were simply unprepared to pay for me to go to a college that cost $800,000 plus shipping and handling or any college really. The nerve. Therefore, as I attended this little school

(be sure to calculate this year's tuition, it is, most likely, more than your salary, ok, fine, just mine) I racked up more student loans than the GNP of most central African nations.

What is the moral of this tale? Because my student loan lenders (including the US Department of Education) fuck me in the ass daily, and not in the way I like, I still live with my 'rents while I save up. I would also like to blame George Bush, either of them really, the state of the US economy, the unreasonableness of private college tuition and my unwavering inability to accept employment that nudges me above the poverty level (I have a big heart boobs).

I was about to tell you the moral of this amazing story. So, tonight, I arrive home after a grueling day of potentially hiring and firing employees at random because I don't quite understand our new HR software, to a totally unappealing smell in the kitchen. It appears that my mother, in all of her culinary wisdom, had prepared a dinner of frozen chicken breasts stewed in a crockpot, covered with Prego pasta sauce. She was preparing boil in bag Minute rice as an accompaniament as well as canned peas. I would have included a picture, but it actually looked like tantalizing Indian food. But it was not. Not at all. + + + =

I looked for, but couldn't find an image of Gremlin puke.

Let me know if you have any leads on places where poor ex-students can live safely or boxes or extra cash.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

A funny thing happened on the way to the blogosphere...

Actually, it's not so much funny as I got totally lost. My mom doesn't even read anymore and my Technorati has gone negative, but after a month or so or three or six of half-assedness, I have returned! But that's pretty much it. It's not going to be better, per se, as it were, inasmuch as I will try to post more frequently until I get that email that every blogger dreads, you know the one from your best friend from the internet that you never met who kindly suggests you, in the words of Rex Manning, just fade away. In the meantime, a photo essay of my excuses.

1. I drink too much it seems.
These are my friends from high school. We gather together at Christmas to get shitfaced and engage in risky driving behaviors.

2. I Joined a band.
We practice every weekend night at about 11pm for an hour or so and then reconvene at 2am for a couple of hours until we pass out from beer creativity and artistic expression. We're somewhat of a cover band and don't play real instruments, I suppose, if you want to get all specific and shit. Except for me. I excel at belting out Weezer's "Say It Ain't So" at quite an unreasonable volume.

These are my band mates. Would you believe that two of these kids are in law school? Me either. I fear for our legal system.

3. I was a lady that lunched.
My dear friend C-tina was able to jet over from Slovakia to get a little OK QT in over the break. We ate a lot of food, talked a lot of trash, and I even introduced C-tina to Forever 21 where she actually purchased something, which means I am 2/3 of my way to accomplishing my life goals. The last third is to have more than one comment on this post. The other third is a secret.

4. I became (even more) unhealthily obsessed with The Wire.
When I played hooky from work to catch up*** on season four (it was on demand, I couldn't help it) during daylight, while continuing my quest to complete season two in the evenings all before season five started a couple of weeks ago, I knew I had a problem. And no, I can't go out tonight. Season three just arrived in the mail today.

So, there it is. I am contemplating whether or not to keep my "regular" features including but not limited to "Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday," "Cringesday" or "Robert Goulet News Round Up Or Whatever I Used To Call It (I'll throw you a bone today, Heath Ledger bit it)," and It's Friday, I'm In Love. * Any thoughts? Or not? Well folks, I'd get out your J.Crew wellies because it's about to drivel.**

*I tire of using quotes.
**That is officially the worst joke I have ever perpetrated.
***Hyperbole, duh.

Friday, January 11, 2008

It's Friday, I'm in Love

with math. Check out this equation:


Why, you ask? Well, through some sort of unholy convergence and confluence of unspeakable events not unlike the appearance, disappearance and reappearance of the McRib™® sandwich, these two lovely people (Mr. Shain - high school friend and G, college friend currently residing in NYExpensive) ate lunch together. In LA. Without me. Which can only mean they spent the entire meal psychoanalyzing my psychosis. Yay! If this world gets any smaller, I might actually have to finally go on that diet.

More later. I will finally reveal to you my recent preoccupation and whereabouts. It's top secret. It's also called Rock Band.

Thursday, January 03, 2008

I owe a cock us

Hey look! After a self imposed exile from technology ranging from blogs, email, phone, digital camera, and electric toothbrush, I'm back! And I'm pissed and/or feeling wittily insightful about a number of topics ranging how to properly load a dishwasher, the best way quell murderous feelings towards one's family, why it is always a good idea to show way too much cleavage at Christmas Eve mass, how to be utterly disappointed in your football team and the benefits of eating your weight in ham. Yay! I didn't mean to scare y'all, I just needed a break. More later, I promise.

Love in Christ,

P.S. If you live in Iowa, please just don't go for Romney, Huckabee, Giuliani, Thompson, or any of the Retardlicans, really.