I have a Whitney Houston song in my head (see above). This cannot be good. Don't you find it odd that "can" and "not" are separate words, but "cannot" is allowed together? Also, homonyms are weird... like "allowed" and "aloud." Remember that movie with Holly Hunter, Queen Latifah, and Danny Devito? Living Out Loud? I never saw it, but it looked mediocre. That is one random-ass cast, though.
Listen, all you Twitter people (that saw my drinking tweets) who may be reading this: I AM NOT DRUNK. I may be drinking, but I am not drunk. I am bored, and thus amusing myself by writing inane shit. I SHOULD be working on important shit, but it's late, and I don't want to worry about that. SO THERE. CAPS LOCK. Anyway, I read something earlier today about how people should never say "I'm bored" because the world is so beautiful and full of things to do and we should all come together and hold hands and say kumbaya or whatever the fuck. That is stupid. People get bored. Yes, our lives are short, and we should live each moment to the fullest, but I prefer to just be BORED sometimes and entertain myself (by blogging). Or complain about it (by blogging). Or annoy a friend until he/she decides to hang out with me (this option rarely involves blogging). This is LIFE. You can tell people to "grab the bull by the horns" or some shit for your entire life, and there will still be people complaining about being bored. Gah, I hate upbeat people.
You guys. I love Cold Case. And it is a TERRIBLE show that rightly got cancelled a season or two ago. But I watch it a lot in reruns, and I can't get enough. Like, there is a lot of shitty TV on late at night, and I usually pay no attention to it because I'm fucking around on the internet, but I watch Cold Case every damn time. IT'S SO BAD. AND CHEESY. AND BAD. The whole premise is about old cases that never closed (hence the term "cold," and if you don't know that, you've never seen a crime procedural in your life, and I don't know if we can be friends), so there are these flashbacks to the events leading up to the crime, and they use the most OBVIOUS (but usually meticulously time-appropriate) music ever to set up each flashback. And THEN each show ends with a montage, using a flashback-appropriate song. They've done a lot of different time periods, but my favorite are the '80s episodes, of course. because there are so few legitimately sincere songs from that period. Once, they ended an episode with a montage set to "Can't Fight This Feeling" by REO Speedwagon (man, I just Googled that, to make sure I had the band right, and I DID, and I felt sad about knowing who sings "Can't Fight This Feeling")... and I mean, HAVE YOU HEARD THAT SONG? In this day and age (what am I, 70?), you can't sincerely set a montage to that song. Yeesh. The point is, you should all be watching this show, and we should make a drinking game out of it.
So I had a birthday recently. I turned... an age that's fairly significant. Some people know exactly how old I am, but I'm refusing to say from now on. I have friends (even some who are close to my age) who think I'm being stupid for not talking about it, but I don't care. I have my own feelings about my age, and I'm allowed to have them, and no one can change my mind about those feelings. The fact is, there is a stigma placed on women (particularly those involved in the performing arts), especially in regards to age, so I'd just prefer to avoid that stigma until I'm forced to reckon with it. Given the fact that I look younger than I am, I figure I have at least 7 years before I have to do that. However... I should stop using words like "reckon" if I want to sound younger, AND not like a country bumpkin. (Aw, "bumpkin," another word that I probably shouldn't use. I'm old and adorable. Oldorable... ew. That kind of sounds like someone who is old and smelly.)
It doesn't help that I'm currently jobless, homeless, and without a checking account (I guess the last thing probably makes sense, considering the first two things). On top of that, nearly all of my friends that I've had since I was in my late teens/early twenties are married and/or having babies. None of my mind can wrap itself around that. Hell, I'm not sure I WANT to get married, and I'm almost positive I don't want to have babies. So it's not so much that I feel like I have to keep up, as much as I feel like I'm supposed to be wanting certain things in my life that I just... don't. Right now, I don't actually feel bad about those things, but that just might be the white trash Sangria talking.
GOD. This got weirdly depressing.
WHAT THE FUCK?! WHY ARE THEY MAKING A FINAL DESTINATION 5?!?!?! And why have I not seen a commercial for it before now? (Wait, why am I upset at not having seen a commercial? THIS is the problem with watching too much TV. Well, this, and the fact that I watch too much TV. That's a problem within itself. This is getting awfully existential.... about TV.) I hate people. WE are the reason these terrible fucking movies get made. Do you REALLY feel the need to watch horror movies in the theater? Are the scares that much scarier on the big screen? STOP FEEDING THESE MOVIE SHITSTORMS. Sigh. Okay, but really, I just hate horror movies with a passion, because they scare the ever-loving shit out of me. I cannot handle the big-jump scares OR the gore. In other words, I'm a big scaredy-cat. Also, Tony Todd is fucking cool (he's in Final Destination 5, if you didn't know, AND YOU SHOULDN'T), and I wish some Tarantino-esque director would get him out of the horror movie slums and put him in something awesome.
I feel sweaty.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Saturday, July 2, 2011
In response to "Copyright or Wrong?"
http://www.tcgcircle.org/2011/06/copyright-or-wrong/
(via Mandy Rausch)
I finally got around to reading this (which you should before you read this blog). I don't think the author is trying to "pity party" at all (as some people thought when I read this on Mandy's Facebook). He accepts the consequences of his actions. And frankly, I agree with him. Shakespeare can be adapted (sometimes almost beyond recognition) just because it's more than 100 years old, but a musical that was based on a cult film from the 50s can't be adapted by using the same material its based on? The owners of the musical rights HAVE to be paying rights to the original film every time the show is presented somewhere - that payment will trickle down to the company who is doing the musical. If he had decided to do a mash-up of Little Shop and some completely different show/movie/whatever, that's a different issue.
However, as a director, I find it imperative to be able to give my own interpretation to a show. And if we're dealing with legalities, TONS of (smaller) theatre companies use pre-existing music as background or foreground in a play, and rarely do they pay the rights to those songs. Small theatre companies are constantly working under the hope that the Big Bad Corporations won't notice if they're doing something innovative with pre-existing art without necessarily going through the proper pipelines. I don't think people should put up shows without paying the proper rights for the show ITSELF (which Boxcar seems to have done), but to be penalized for adding an innovative spin is a relic of old-school theatre, and needs to be done away with, in my opinion.
That said, he did sign a contract, and WAS aware that it was against what he signed, so it's absolutely understandable that the show was cancelled. The director seems to get that. The issue that he presents is that the general idea of WHY it happened should be discussed further. He mentions Charles Mee, who I love and am planning to use in a show soon. Mee says the same thing: no art is truly original anymore. We all "steal" ideas from other people, art forms, architecture, whatever. So Mee has every single play he has ever written available on his site FOR FREE. He says that if you do a play as is, you have to pay rights on it (and I believe it's still actually a fairly small fee). However, if you want to take his text, or idea/concept, or even just the title, you can do whatever you want with it and get no penalization. Richard Foreman does the same thing, although he only offers general "notebooks" to use, rather than his full plays.
People want to get paid for their work, absolutely. But often, younger artists are more likely to share their work more freely, because they want it to get out there. Free publicity is better than none, and I think there are more new writers nowadays that get that. The more precious people are about their work, the more likely we are to deal with people constantly claiming that theatre is dead. We need to evolve. Yes, we need to pay rights on a show, but if everyone is living under the stifling conditions of some copyright person who probably went to school for business or law (and most likely knows nothing about theatre), our creativity will die.
Basically, I'd rather have to cancel a show because the copyright people told me they didn't like my choices than live in fear of being TOO creative. From what I can tell (having had this conversation with many people over the years), I am in the minority here, but I'm glad that Boxcar is willing to step out there and admit it on a larger scale than most would.
(via Mandy Rausch)
I finally got around to reading this (which you should before you read this blog). I don't think the author is trying to "pity party" at all (as some people thought when I read this on Mandy's Facebook). He accepts the consequences of his actions. And frankly, I agree with him. Shakespeare can be adapted (sometimes almost beyond recognition) just because it's more than 100 years old, but a musical that was based on a cult film from the 50s can't be adapted by using the same material its based on? The owners of the musical rights HAVE to be paying rights to the original film every time the show is presented somewhere - that payment will trickle down to the company who is doing the musical. If he had decided to do a mash-up of Little Shop and some completely different show/movie/whatever, that's a different issue.
However, as a director, I find it imperative to be able to give my own interpretation to a show. And if we're dealing with legalities, TONS of (smaller) theatre companies use pre-existing music as background or foreground in a play, and rarely do they pay the rights to those songs. Small theatre companies are constantly working under the hope that the Big Bad Corporations won't notice if they're doing something innovative with pre-existing art without necessarily going through the proper pipelines. I don't think people should put up shows without paying the proper rights for the show ITSELF (which Boxcar seems to have done), but to be penalized for adding an innovative spin is a relic of old-school theatre, and needs to be done away with, in my opinion.
That said, he did sign a contract, and WAS aware that it was against what he signed, so it's absolutely understandable that the show was cancelled. The director seems to get that. The issue that he presents is that the general idea of WHY it happened should be discussed further. He mentions Charles Mee, who I love and am planning to use in a show soon. Mee says the same thing: no art is truly original anymore. We all "steal" ideas from other people, art forms, architecture, whatever. So Mee has every single play he has ever written available on his site FOR FREE. He says that if you do a play as is, you have to pay rights on it (and I believe it's still actually a fairly small fee). However, if you want to take his text, or idea/concept, or even just the title, you can do whatever you want with it and get no penalization. Richard Foreman does the same thing, although he only offers general "notebooks" to use, rather than his full plays.
People want to get paid for their work, absolutely. But often, younger artists are more likely to share their work more freely, because they want it to get out there. Free publicity is better than none, and I think there are more new writers nowadays that get that. The more precious people are about their work, the more likely we are to deal with people constantly claiming that theatre is dead. We need to evolve. Yes, we need to pay rights on a show, but if everyone is living under the stifling conditions of some copyright person who probably went to school for business or law (and most likely knows nothing about theatre), our creativity will die.
Basically, I'd rather have to cancel a show because the copyright people told me they didn't like my choices than live in fear of being TOO creative. From what I can tell (having had this conversation with many people over the years), I am in the minority here, but I'm glad that Boxcar is willing to step out there and admit it on a larger scale than most would.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
H. Jon Benjamin has pretty, pretty eyes.
That has nothing to do with this blogsby. I've just been reading a lot of AV Club, and there's an advertisement for his new Comedy Central show on the site, and I keep staring at his eyes. SO PRETTY. Plus, balding and beardy. 3 STRIKES AND YOU'RE OUT! Or something. I don't know what I'm saying... his eyes distracted me. Man, I'm sad I missed out on the last few episodes of the second season of Archer. I miss that show. I saw the first season on sale at Target for only, like, 10 dollars, but I don't even HAVE that much money. BITCH BE POOR. That's me... I'm the bitch. Someone buy me the first season of Archer!
Anyway. This blogsby has no purpose, so feel free to click away now.
I find it odd that on South Park, Cartman is obsessed with little boys putting their mouths on his cock and/or balls, but in the Jonas Brothers episode, he finds the idea of a girl doing the same thing disgusting. I REALLY hope that this resolves itself in their final season as Cartman being gay. (NOTE: I haven't seen any of the last season. I'M A BAD PERSON. Except that it's a fucking TV show, so I'm not REALLY a bad person. So... fuck you for saying that.) None of this is interesting. My life is not interesting right now. Thus, again, I'll encourage you to click away now.
The word "fingerbang" should be used more. Like, when a movie needs to overdub "fuck" for TV purposes, "fingerbang" should be the go-to word. Or when you did a good job at a task, you could say, "I totally just fingerbanged this blogsby." Well, not this blogsby. But one of my other ones. Like the one about NFL theme songs! That was a good one, although you non-sports lovers probably hated it. Oh GOD, now I'm talking about my previous blogsbies. This is super lame. I should stop... BUT I'M SO FUCKING BORED. Apparently, that means I'll entertain myself by typing random shit. FINGERBANG.
BANGERFING... that makes me think of someone barfing while banging someone. GROSS. And sexy. Grossexy. Worbinations!
[I had a paragraph here about all of the injuries I've piled up since doing the FringeNYC play. It was boring. Suffice it to say, Earlier in the process, I hurt my hip and rolled my ankle, and yesterday I got blisters on my hands because we played on the monkey bars. I'M OLD.]
[And then I watched 5 episodes of South Park back-to-back and forgot I was blogging. You'd think I'd give up on this blogsby, but I ain't no quitter. FUCK THAT.]
A while back I was talking to my friend Mandy (I forgot how to do link things, but here's one of her bloggy things: http://operawife.tumblr.com/) and I were talking about "internet personas." Apparently, even if people know you in real life, they perceive your online persona as removed from who you actually are. I mean, I guess I'm a lot more pessimistic on the internet than I am in real life, but that's because I am usually more funny when I'm angry/annoyed/negative in some way. It's SUPER fucking boring to read someone's Facebook/Twitter/Whatthefuckever when they're all puppies and rainbows and pretty bright lights or some shit. Anyway, not everyone feels this way, and that's fine (I GUESS), but my point is that if you KNOW someone FOR REALSIES, you should understand them enough to not give a shit if their online persona isn't as pleasant as you might like. Just don't follow them, or hide their Facebook statuses, or WHATEVER the FUCK makes you stop being a DOUCHEBOTTLE. Seriously. Also, if you don't know someone that well in real life, and you follow/friend them, then it's your own damn fault if you get offended/put off by something they post on the internet. Uch. People are the WORST. (This paragraph is brought to you by the slashy symbol.)
Okay, so... cauliflower. WHY DOES IT EXIST? (That just made me think of ICP and that stupid song... "Fucking magnets: how do they work?" or whatever that line is. AMAZEGREAT. Here's the video if you've never seen it [AND YOU SHOULD FUCKING SEE IT]: http://youtu.be/_-agl0pOQfs. Also, there's a SNL parody of it, which is pretty funny, but less funny than the original video, but only because the original video isn't TRYING to be funny.) Seriously. My aunt always has cauliflower, someone posted something about eating grilled cauliflower or something that sounded fancy except that it was FUCKING CAULIFLOWER, and... I just don't get it. I understand that I like broccoli, and perhaps there are people who think that broccoli smells like farts, but... DUDE. Cauliflower ACTUALLY smells like farts. It's actively trying to make you think, "Holy shit, my food is farting on me." I don't care if you put some curry on it (and whatever, I'm racist, but curry is also in the fart family of food [ALLITERATION BITCHES]), or add some super-fancy spice on it... it's fucking cauliflower. DISGUSTING. Who eats it? Why do people eat it? I DON'T UNDERSTAND. Fuck cauliflower.
So I had to look up that ICP video in order to link it, and I let it play out on mute in a separate tab. When I clicked back over to "X" out of the tab, one of the related links was a clip where apparently ICP was interviewed on the O'Reilly Factor. It took everything in me not to click on it. I talked myself out of it because I knew that I would never respect myself again if I watched it. And after masturbating that one time while watching babies vomit on themselves... let's just say I know something about never respecting myself again.
My boob is hanging out of my sleep shirt. This is not as hot as you think it is. Stay in my shirt, boob! I don't appreciate your judgemental glare. Maybe I should stop being a lazy bitch by showering and putting on real clothes. But real clothes are LAME. Fuck you, real clothes!
I don't find vomit to be funny. I'm all about "dude" humor, but vomit... doesn't do it for me. I don't understand what it is about excessive vomit that makes people laugh. DO PEOPLE LAUGH?! I need to know, because I just don't get it. Why, with all the vomit? Maybe I'm the weird one for not thinking it's funny... it just makes me feel sick when I see a lot of it. Someone, please help me out and explain why vomit is hilarious. I'm losing points with my dude friends because I hate vomit. I CAN'T LOSE MY DUDE FRIEND POINTS. Then I'm just a normal girl, which means I'd have to reevaluate my life, and I'd go into a downward spiral if I started doing that. Vomit = existential crisis. This shit just got deep. (NOTE: After proofreading my blogsby, I see that I made a vomit joke earlier. So now I'm a hypocrite. See? EXISTENTIAL CRISIS.)
Someone needs to give me something to do during the day, so that I don't write rambling shit like this.
Anyway. This blogsby has no purpose, so feel free to click away now.
I find it odd that on South Park, Cartman is obsessed with little boys putting their mouths on his cock and/or balls, but in the Jonas Brothers episode, he finds the idea of a girl doing the same thing disgusting. I REALLY hope that this resolves itself in their final season as Cartman being gay. (NOTE: I haven't seen any of the last season. I'M A BAD PERSON. Except that it's a fucking TV show, so I'm not REALLY a bad person. So... fuck you for saying that.) None of this is interesting. My life is not interesting right now. Thus, again, I'll encourage you to click away now.
The word "fingerbang" should be used more. Like, when a movie needs to overdub "fuck" for TV purposes, "fingerbang" should be the go-to word. Or when you did a good job at a task, you could say, "I totally just fingerbanged this blogsby." Well, not this blogsby. But one of my other ones. Like the one about NFL theme songs! That was a good one, although you non-sports lovers probably hated it. Oh GOD, now I'm talking about my previous blogsbies. This is super lame. I should stop... BUT I'M SO FUCKING BORED. Apparently, that means I'll entertain myself by typing random shit. FINGERBANG.
BANGERFING... that makes me think of someone barfing while banging someone. GROSS. And sexy. Grossexy. Worbinations!
[I had a paragraph here about all of the injuries I've piled up since doing the FringeNYC play. It was boring. Suffice it to say, Earlier in the process, I hurt my hip and rolled my ankle, and yesterday I got blisters on my hands because we played on the monkey bars. I'M OLD.]
[And then I watched 5 episodes of South Park back-to-back and forgot I was blogging. You'd think I'd give up on this blogsby, but I ain't no quitter. FUCK THAT.]
A while back I was talking to my friend Mandy (I forgot how to do link things, but here's one of her bloggy things: http://operawife.tumblr.com/) and I were talking about "internet personas." Apparently, even if people know you in real life, they perceive your online persona as removed from who you actually are. I mean, I guess I'm a lot more pessimistic on the internet than I am in real life, but that's because I am usually more funny when I'm angry/annoyed/negative in some way. It's SUPER fucking boring to read someone's Facebook/Twitter/Whatthefuckever when they're all puppies and rainbows and pretty bright lights or some shit. Anyway, not everyone feels this way, and that's fine (I GUESS), but my point is that if you KNOW someone FOR REALSIES, you should understand them enough to not give a shit if their online persona isn't as pleasant as you might like. Just don't follow them, or hide their Facebook statuses, or WHATEVER the FUCK makes you stop being a DOUCHEBOTTLE. Seriously. Also, if you don't know someone that well in real life, and you follow/friend them, then it's your own damn fault if you get offended/put off by something they post on the internet. Uch. People are the WORST. (This paragraph is brought to you by the slashy symbol.)
Okay, so... cauliflower. WHY DOES IT EXIST? (That just made me think of ICP and that stupid song... "Fucking magnets: how do they work?" or whatever that line is. AMAZEGREAT. Here's the video if you've never seen it [AND YOU SHOULD FUCKING SEE IT]: http://youtu.be/_-agl0pOQfs. Also, there's a SNL parody of it, which is pretty funny, but less funny than the original video, but only because the original video isn't TRYING to be funny.) Seriously. My aunt always has cauliflower, someone posted something about eating grilled cauliflower or something that sounded fancy except that it was FUCKING CAULIFLOWER, and... I just don't get it. I understand that I like broccoli, and perhaps there are people who think that broccoli smells like farts, but... DUDE. Cauliflower ACTUALLY smells like farts. It's actively trying to make you think, "Holy shit, my food is farting on me." I don't care if you put some curry on it (and whatever, I'm racist, but curry is also in the fart family of food [ALLITERATION BITCHES]), or add some super-fancy spice on it... it's fucking cauliflower. DISGUSTING. Who eats it? Why do people eat it? I DON'T UNDERSTAND. Fuck cauliflower.
So I had to look up that ICP video in order to link it, and I let it play out on mute in a separate tab. When I clicked back over to "X" out of the tab, one of the related links was a clip where apparently ICP was interviewed on the O'Reilly Factor. It took everything in me not to click on it. I talked myself out of it because I knew that I would never respect myself again if I watched it. And after masturbating that one time while watching babies vomit on themselves... let's just say I know something about never respecting myself again.
My boob is hanging out of my sleep shirt. This is not as hot as you think it is. Stay in my shirt, boob! I don't appreciate your judgemental glare. Maybe I should stop being a lazy bitch by showering and putting on real clothes. But real clothes are LAME. Fuck you, real clothes!
I don't find vomit to be funny. I'm all about "dude" humor, but vomit... doesn't do it for me. I don't understand what it is about excessive vomit that makes people laugh. DO PEOPLE LAUGH?! I need to know, because I just don't get it. Why, with all the vomit? Maybe I'm the weird one for not thinking it's funny... it just makes me feel sick when I see a lot of it. Someone, please help me out and explain why vomit is hilarious. I'm losing points with my dude friends because I hate vomit. I CAN'T LOSE MY DUDE FRIEND POINTS. Then I'm just a normal girl, which means I'd have to reevaluate my life, and I'd go into a downward spiral if I started doing that. Vomit = existential crisis. This shit just got deep. (NOTE: After proofreading my blogsby, I see that I made a vomit joke earlier. So now I'm a hypocrite. See? EXISTENTIAL CRISIS.)
Someone needs to give me something to do during the day, so that I don't write rambling shit like this.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
I'm bored.
So this week we started rehearsal for a show that's going to New York. On Monday, we had an intense day physically, which meant that my hip hurt like a BITCH on Tuesday (because I'm old). It was really stiff, and I had a super pimp-limp all day. Anyway, I was running to get back to a movie (I had to pee in the middle of it), and my hip gave out... which means I rolled my ankle. Now, my hip doesn't hurt but my FUCKING ANKLE IS KILLING ME, which is making me pouty and whiny. Not attractive.
I haven't been able to do much today over than RICE my ankle. What's RICE? Rest, ice, compression, and elevation. I'd never heard of it either, until I Googled "rolled ankle" to see if I could do anything other than ice it. Thanks, internet! You're the best friend a girl can have. Diamonds are too mean, in my opinion.
I could have worked on many things that involve me sitting on my ass with my computer, but instead, I did nothing. So it's my own damn fault that I'm bored, and blogging about it. Man... this might be the boringest blogsby I've ever blogged. Blog. BLOG. Blog is a dumb-ass word. Blogsby might be dumber, but it's a close race. (WOAH, what if, like, Nascar had 2 cars, one named Blog and one named Blogsby, and they raced each other? I bet that wouldn't be very interesting. OOH! What if it were llamas instead of race cars? That'd be fun. I'd watch the shit out of that.)
[poop break]
You know what I hate? I fucking hate when I STRONGLY feel like I have to poop, and then I go to the bathroom, but I can't poop. I HATE IT. HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE. SO MUCH HATE. And NOW I feel like I have to poop again (I'm off the toilet AND I didn't poop the first time), but I'm not going back into that bathroom until I'm literally about to POOP MY FUCKING PANTS. Stupid digestive system. (I'd like to take a moment here to apologize to Zane Harris, in case he happens to read this.)
Okay, so there's this lady who is, like, in EVERY commercial right now. I tried to Google "woman who is in lots of commercials," but that didn't work. You know what, internet? You're supposed to work all the time. NOT just when I need to fix my rolled ankle. I'M SO DISAPPOINTED IN YOU. You're like that baby I threw into a dumpster when I was drunk at the prom, and then it grew up into a genius who got a law degree when he was, like, 12, and then he sued me for "dumpster-birthing." Did you know that was a thing? I TOTALLY DIDN'T. Thanks, dumpster-baby lawyer, for RUINING MY LIFE. Just like the internet did. (Just kids, that totally didn't happen. I don't think. Whatever happened to that little dumpster-baby? I hope it's a hobo. Hobos are awesome.)
Anyway, this lady. She's Jack's wife in the Jack in the Box commercials, she talks to some dude on a couch in the Rooms to Go commercials, and she's recently been added to the E-surance commercials... and I'm almost positive she's in one or two other commercials too, but I haven't seen those recently. WHO IS SHE? Why won't the internet tell meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee? It's upsetting to me. AND when I see one of her commercials with someone else in the room, they don't recognize her from other commercials. UGH.
AHMAGAHAHMAHGAHAHMAHGAH. So I wanted to find the videos to show y'all, and I Googled "jack in the box commercial wife," and I FUCKING FOUND HER. Her name is Gillian Vigman. GILLIAN VIGMAN, YOU GUYS. I figured it out. Or rather, the internet did. YAY INTERNET! (I'm sorry I called you a dumpster-baby lawyer. That was mean of me.) She's actually been in a lot of shit, although I can't find anything about the commercials she's in. Well... that's not true. But I can't find anything about the commercials I CARE about. Ah well.
I made up "ah mah gah," and I just realized that having that many "h"s are kind of annoying. Ugh. I don't like looking at all those "AHMAHGAH"s up there. And I'm doing it again. I'm the WORST. Also, I want to start saying/writing "uch" instead of "ugh." It seems it's a more intense "ugh." DUDE, SO MANY QUOTATION MARKS. I hate everything I'm doing right now. I should stop doing all of it. Uch. (See? It works.)
It kinda bothers me more people aren't interested in inviting me places. And... I was gonna go on a diatribe about it, but it all sounded whiny in my head, so I stopped. Hey, friends: if you SAY you wanna hang out with me (or that you miss me), contact me and we'll hang out! It's that easy. If you don't wanna hang out with me, stop saying it to me. It's mean.
My foot is numb. Oooh, what if I AMPUTATED it? That would be a bad idea. But then I could attach a robot wheel to it (like Tracy Jordan in 30 Rock, with his diabetes), and that would be awesome. If I got to be a HUGE theatre director, I could train myself to wheel up thisclose to someone's face if they got mouthy with me. That would be a bad ASS idea. Ew, that looks weird, like it's an ass idea that's bad. I don't know what I'm saying anymore. Maybe I should go to sleep.
But seriously... ROBOT WHEEL FOOT.
I haven't been able to do much today over than RICE my ankle. What's RICE? Rest, ice, compression, and elevation. I'd never heard of it either, until I Googled "rolled ankle" to see if I could do anything other than ice it. Thanks, internet! You're the best friend a girl can have. Diamonds are too mean, in my opinion.
I could have worked on many things that involve me sitting on my ass with my computer, but instead, I did nothing. So it's my own damn fault that I'm bored, and blogging about it. Man... this might be the boringest blogsby I've ever blogged. Blog. BLOG. Blog is a dumb-ass word. Blogsby might be dumber, but it's a close race. (WOAH, what if, like, Nascar had 2 cars, one named Blog and one named Blogsby, and they raced each other? I bet that wouldn't be very interesting. OOH! What if it were llamas instead of race cars? That'd be fun. I'd watch the shit out of that.)
[poop break]
You know what I hate? I fucking hate when I STRONGLY feel like I have to poop, and then I go to the bathroom, but I can't poop. I HATE IT. HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE. SO MUCH HATE. And NOW I feel like I have to poop again (I'm off the toilet AND I didn't poop the first time), but I'm not going back into that bathroom until I'm literally about to POOP MY FUCKING PANTS. Stupid digestive system. (I'd like to take a moment here to apologize to Zane Harris, in case he happens to read this.)
Okay, so there's this lady who is, like, in EVERY commercial right now. I tried to Google "woman who is in lots of commercials," but that didn't work. You know what, internet? You're supposed to work all the time. NOT just when I need to fix my rolled ankle. I'M SO DISAPPOINTED IN YOU. You're like that baby I threw into a dumpster when I was drunk at the prom, and then it grew up into a genius who got a law degree when he was, like, 12, and then he sued me for "dumpster-birthing." Did you know that was a thing? I TOTALLY DIDN'T. Thanks, dumpster-baby lawyer, for RUINING MY LIFE. Just like the internet did. (Just kids, that totally didn't happen. I don't think. Whatever happened to that little dumpster-baby? I hope it's a hobo. Hobos are awesome.)
Anyway, this lady. She's Jack's wife in the Jack in the Box commercials, she talks to some dude on a couch in the Rooms to Go commercials, and she's recently been added to the E-surance commercials... and I'm almost positive she's in one or two other commercials too, but I haven't seen those recently. WHO IS SHE? Why won't the internet tell meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee? It's upsetting to me. AND when I see one of her commercials with someone else in the room, they don't recognize her from other commercials. UGH.
AHMAGAHAHMAHGAHAHMAHGAH. So I wanted to find the videos to show y'all, and I Googled "jack in the box commercial wife," and I FUCKING FOUND HER. Her name is Gillian Vigman. GILLIAN VIGMAN, YOU GUYS. I figured it out. Or rather, the internet did. YAY INTERNET! (I'm sorry I called you a dumpster-baby lawyer. That was mean of me.) She's actually been in a lot of shit, although I can't find anything about the commercials she's in. Well... that's not true. But I can't find anything about the commercials I CARE about. Ah well.
I made up "ah mah gah," and I just realized that having that many "h"s are kind of annoying. Ugh. I don't like looking at all those "AHMAHGAH"s up there. And I'm doing it again. I'm the WORST. Also, I want to start saying/writing "uch" instead of "ugh." It seems it's a more intense "ugh." DUDE, SO MANY QUOTATION MARKS. I hate everything I'm doing right now. I should stop doing all of it. Uch. (See? It works.)
It kinda bothers me more people aren't interested in inviting me places. And... I was gonna go on a diatribe about it, but it all sounded whiny in my head, so I stopped. Hey, friends: if you SAY you wanna hang out with me (or that you miss me), contact me and we'll hang out! It's that easy. If you don't wanna hang out with me, stop saying it to me. It's mean.
My foot is numb. Oooh, what if I AMPUTATED it? That would be a bad idea. But then I could attach a robot wheel to it (like Tracy Jordan in 30 Rock, with his diabetes), and that would be awesome. If I got to be a HUGE theatre director, I could train myself to wheel up thisclose to someone's face if they got mouthy with me. That would be a bad ASS idea. Ew, that looks weird, like it's an ass idea that's bad. I don't know what I'm saying anymore. Maybe I should go to sleep.
But seriously... ROBOT WHEEL FOOT.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
PICKLES.
(Post-blogging note: I was gonna wait until later to post this, so people wouldn't know I was up this late, but then I remember a couple people like reading this at work, so I'm posting it now. YES, I'M STILL UP. I WAS WORKING ON IMPORTANT STUFF. But then I started blogging because the important stuff made me crangry. AND NOW, because I made this post-blogging note, everything is oddly spacing itself. UGH UGH UGH. DEATH.)
MOTHERFUCKIN' PICKLES.
So I've been thinking about writing this DIFFERENT blog for days, but I don't write serious blogs, and the subject of my other blog is too serious for my liking. Maybe if I'm feeling especially emo or some shit, I'll write that blog. Until then... we're talkin' pickles, bitches.
I understand that not everyone loves pickles. Or rather, I am aware that not everyone loves pickles... I'm not sure I actually UNDERSTAND it. They're pickles! They're sour (or sour and sweet, if you're into that kind), and crunchy, and juicy, and DELICIOUS. What's not to like?
I'll tell you what's not to like (holy shit, am I about to play devil's advocate on some pickles? I FEEL CONFUSED ABOUT MY LIFE RIGHT NOW): they're not really food. I could eat a whole jar of pickles (and I have, when I was a child), and not feel full. Sure, I'll feel bloated, and if I wiggle around, my belly would make a weird sloshing sound, but I will certainly not be full. On the other hand, if I eat one regular-sized pickle, I feel content. I'm practically Buckwheat at that point. (DAMMIT, LITTLE RASCALS. I wanted to link to a YouTube video of Buckwheat saying "I got a pickle, I got a pickle, I got a pickle HEY HEY HEY HEY." But that doesn't exist. He only says that about a dollar. He STARTS to sing the song about TWO pickles, but clearly, I am about to debunk the want of two pickles. SIGH. Blogging about pickles is hard.) Now if I have more than one regular-sized pickle? (This includes giant pickles, which I thought I loved, and am now in a world of turmoil because of my pickle issues.) (AH MAH GAH TASHINA STOP WITH THE PARENTHESES AND JUST TELL YOUR FUCKING STORY.) (SHUT UP, PARALLEL UNIVERSE TASHINA, BECAUSE PEOPLE WHO READ YOUR BLOGSBY KNOW YOU HAVE PROBLEMS WITH PARENTHESIZING... AND MAKING UP WORDS... AND CAPS LOCKING EVERYTHING.)
(Yeesh. Now I have to start a new paragraph, what with all the sidethoughts and whatnot.)
What was I talking about? Oh right... so what if I have more than one regular-sized pickle? Well, what happens is that I am happy for a little longer than a normal person would be... and then the pickle sadness sets in. "What is pickle sadness?" you ask (or you don't, in which case... stop reading this blogsby, dummy). Pickle sadness is that point where your tummy starts to realize how much acid that pickle has in it, and your mouth starts to realize how sour the pickle is, and your intestines start to realize how it wants to poop. But if you're like me, you don't want to waste a pickle, so you force yourself to eat it. It is uncomfortable, and you can't have another pickle for DAYS. Not even on your sandwich. Trust me. I know about this.
Another issue I have with pickles is the sweet and sour pickle. I mean... WHAT IS THAT?! Who thought to themselves, "I know people love pickles, but what if we made them sweet as well? It's like a SweeTart, but grosser!" Also: UGH. I just Googled sweet and sour pickles, and all that came up were recipes for them. I DON'T WANT A DAMN RECIPE FOR AN ABOMINATION. Also, why are they sometimes called "bread and butter"? What does bread and butter have to do with sweet and sour? I DON'T GET IT. Fuck you, sweet and sour pickles. Also, fuck you grocery stores, for sometimes stocking things in the wrong place, and then I'm not paying attention when I buy pickles, and I don't pay attention when I open them, and I put a pickle in my mouth only to find out it's a fucking SWEET AND SOUR PICKLE. (Yes, I realize that all of that is my fault. But my hatred of sweet and sour pickles is so deep that I refuse to take responsibility for any of that happening. I believe it was the sweet and sour pickle dwarves trying to put a curse on me. BUT I DIDN'T SWALLOW ANY OF THAT PICKLE, FUCKERS. YOU CAN'T CATCH ME.)
And now... I have a weird caveat to my sweet and sour hate. Lookadis: http://www.avclub.com/articles/koolaid-pickles,32402/. At first, I only read this out of curiosity; I had no desire to ever make them. But when I read that article, and they talked about how the pickles weren't actually SWEET, I became a bit more intrigued. Come on, I have to have at least one pickle lover out there. Preferably one who has money (because I don't). Let's (and by "let's," I mean you) buy pickles and kool aid mix (I can buy THAT! IT'S CHEAP!) and make them! It'll be fun! Or disgusting. I dunno. But I'm fascinated by kool aid pickles. SOMEONE DO IT WITH ME. DON'T MAKE ME START KANYEING ALL OF MY BLOG. (If you don't know what that means... I can't even begin to understand you. Again, you should probably stop reading my blogsby.)
Last pickle thought: for those of you who don't know, I have a strong attachment to eating pickles slices (and usually, I just cut a whole pickle INTO slices) on various chips. Pringles were an initial favorite, although I also like Ruffles and various tortilla chips. However, I've recently discovered the magic of the mini tortilla chip rounds - they are almost always the EXACT size of the pickle slice, and it is like magic in my mouth. I could eat that shit forever. However, if you buy a jar of hamburger slices, Pringles are definitely the way to go. They both have oblong shapes, and complement each other well. Thus endeth my praise of pickle/chip combos.
Random Thoughts:
Remember when this post was about pickles?
MOTHERFUCKIN' PICKLES.
So I've been thinking about writing this DIFFERENT blog for days, but I don't write serious blogs, and the subject of my other blog is too serious for my liking. Maybe if I'm feeling especially emo or some shit, I'll write that blog. Until then... we're talkin' pickles, bitches.
I understand that not everyone loves pickles. Or rather, I am aware that not everyone loves pickles... I'm not sure I actually UNDERSTAND it. They're pickles! They're sour (or sour and sweet, if you're into that kind), and crunchy, and juicy, and DELICIOUS. What's not to like?
I'll tell you what's not to like (holy shit, am I about to play devil's advocate on some pickles? I FEEL CONFUSED ABOUT MY LIFE RIGHT NOW): they're not really food. I could eat a whole jar of pickles (and I have, when I was a child), and not feel full. Sure, I'll feel bloated, and if I wiggle around, my belly would make a weird sloshing sound, but I will certainly not be full. On the other hand, if I eat one regular-sized pickle, I feel content. I'm practically Buckwheat at that point. (DAMMIT, LITTLE RASCALS. I wanted to link to a YouTube video of Buckwheat saying "I got a pickle, I got a pickle, I got a pickle HEY HEY HEY HEY." But that doesn't exist. He only says that about a dollar. He STARTS to sing the song about TWO pickles, but clearly, I am about to debunk the want of two pickles. SIGH. Blogging about pickles is hard.) Now if I have more than one regular-sized pickle? (This includes giant pickles, which I thought I loved, and am now in a world of turmoil because of my pickle issues.) (AH MAH GAH TASHINA STOP WITH THE PARENTHESES AND JUST TELL YOUR FUCKING STORY.) (SHUT UP, PARALLEL UNIVERSE TASHINA, BECAUSE PEOPLE WHO READ YOUR BLOGSBY KNOW YOU HAVE PROBLEMS WITH PARENTHESIZING... AND MAKING UP WORDS... AND CAPS LOCKING EVERYTHING.)
(Yeesh. Now I have to start a new paragraph, what with all the sidethoughts and whatnot.)
What was I talking about? Oh right... so what if I have more than one regular-sized pickle? Well, what happens is that I am happy for a little longer than a normal person would be... and then the pickle sadness sets in. "What is pickle sadness?" you ask (or you don't, in which case... stop reading this blogsby, dummy). Pickle sadness is that point where your tummy starts to realize how much acid that pickle has in it, and your mouth starts to realize how sour the pickle is, and your intestines start to realize how it wants to poop. But if you're like me, you don't want to waste a pickle, so you force yourself to eat it. It is uncomfortable, and you can't have another pickle for DAYS. Not even on your sandwich. Trust me. I know about this.
Another issue I have with pickles is the sweet and sour pickle. I mean... WHAT IS THAT?! Who thought to themselves, "I know people love pickles, but what if we made them sweet as well? It's like a SweeTart, but grosser!" Also: UGH. I just Googled sweet and sour pickles, and all that came up were recipes for them. I DON'T WANT A DAMN RECIPE FOR AN ABOMINATION. Also, why are they sometimes called "bread and butter"? What does bread and butter have to do with sweet and sour? I DON'T GET IT. Fuck you, sweet and sour pickles. Also, fuck you grocery stores, for sometimes stocking things in the wrong place, and then I'm not paying attention when I buy pickles, and I don't pay attention when I open them, and I put a pickle in my mouth only to find out it's a fucking SWEET AND SOUR PICKLE. (Yes, I realize that all of that is my fault. But my hatred of sweet and sour pickles is so deep that I refuse to take responsibility for any of that happening. I believe it was the sweet and sour pickle dwarves trying to put a curse on me. BUT I DIDN'T SWALLOW ANY OF THAT PICKLE, FUCKERS. YOU CAN'T CATCH ME.)
And now... I have a weird caveat to my sweet and sour hate. Lookadis: http://www.avclub.com/articles/koolaid-pickles,32402/. At first, I only read this out of curiosity; I had no desire to ever make them. But when I read that article, and they talked about how the pickles weren't actually SWEET, I became a bit more intrigued. Come on, I have to have at least one pickle lover out there. Preferably one who has money (because I don't). Let's (and by "let's," I mean you) buy pickles and kool aid mix (I can buy THAT! IT'S CHEAP!) and make them! It'll be fun! Or disgusting. I dunno. But I'm fascinated by kool aid pickles. SOMEONE DO IT WITH ME. DON'T MAKE ME START KANYEING ALL OF MY BLOG. (If you don't know what that means... I can't even begin to understand you. Again, you should probably stop reading my blogsby.)
Last pickle thought: for those of you who don't know, I have a strong attachment to eating pickles slices (and usually, I just cut a whole pickle INTO slices) on various chips. Pringles were an initial favorite, although I also like Ruffles and various tortilla chips. However, I've recently discovered the magic of the mini tortilla chip rounds - they are almost always the EXACT size of the pickle slice, and it is like magic in my mouth. I could eat that shit forever. However, if you buy a jar of hamburger slices, Pringles are definitely the way to go. They both have oblong shapes, and complement each other well. Thus endeth my praise of pickle/chip combos.
Random Thoughts:
- I don't understand how people can go to sleep with their TVs super loud. I do rather like falling asleep to the TV, but if it's at a level that could wake a deaf person, that's gonna make it really hard for me to fall asleep. HOW DO PEOPLE DO IT?
- As some of you may know, I have a weakness for crime procedurals. Because of that, I have been watching "Law and Order: LA" (which the network wanted to call "LOLA," but which I wanted to call "LandOLA" because I called the OG "Law and Order" "LandO" [Thanks, friend who gave that to me years ago] and I refuse to let go of that) and trying to support it because NBC sucks and CANCELLED OG LandO WHEN IT WAS ACTUALLY PRETTY FUCKING GOOD IN THE LAST SEASON. Anyway, LandOLA sucks legitimately despite the acting of Alfred Molina and Terence Howard... well, and most of the cast, actually. The weakest link on that show, acting-wise, was Peter Coyote (I know, right?!?), and he wasn't on that much. Everyone else was actually pretty solid. The bald dude with the mustache (who then shaved his mustache after [SPOILER ALERT BUT HOLY SHIT I HOPE YOU DON'T CARE] Skeet Ulrich got killed [not like this, but because I hate Skeet Ulrich {and actually HE was the worst actor on the show but he's so bland that I almost didn't notice him until he died} and love seeing him incessantly fake-die, I'll post it anyway and thank Irvin: http://29.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lk61ueSq6f1qa1xnko1_500.gif], and I know Skeet was his partner but DUDE the guy's name in real life was Skeet and your mustache was awesome and I might irrationally blame you shaving it for the show getting cancelled) is pretty fucking funny while also have the proper level of gravitas, and I hope he gets cast in something soon. ANYWAY, the point is that I understand why the show got cancelled. The stories were lame, particularly in the second (revamped) half of the season, and it relied too much on its "OMG we're in LA so let's do faux-Hollywood stories" bullshit. Snooze. Wake me up when you bring Linus Roache and Sam Waterston back into my life.
- NBC does suck, but I do appreciate them keeping low-rated comedies on the air that I love. "30 Rock" and "Community" are pretty great, but I have no qualms in saying that "Parks and Recreation" is the best comedy on TV. Period. The end. If you're not watching it, I'll just say that you don't even need to start from the beginning. Read a synopsis of the characters and pick up on season 2. Season 1 isn't amazing (although it's totally worth watching AFTER season 2 makes you fall in love with the characters - and I'd actually say to go back to season 1 after the middle of season 2 because if you get all the way through season 2, season 1 will just make you feel weird), but the rest of the show is. WATCH IT. LOVE IT. BE IT.
- I watch "Cougar Town." I'm not ashamed. It is ridiculous, and trashy, and also Courtney Cox's and Crista Miller's faces look like they got into a car accident with some Botox needles... but it's still pretty fucking funny. I legitimately laughed out loud at 2 different lines from that show tonight. (For example, Busy Phillips saying to Lou Diamond Phillips [YES, LOU DIAMOND FUCKING PHILLIPS]: “I don’t know exactly what your race is, but I’m into it in a big way.”) AND LOOK. A Shawshank recreation from the first season: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMRUx6Lckj0. IT LOVES DUDES TOO! Kinda. Anyway, it at least loves drinking... A LOT. And we can all get behind that, right? Ignore the name. Or don't, because saying you like "Cougar Town" makes you sound ironic, and seeing as our culture is being ruined by stupid ironic hipsters saying stupid ironic hipster things... saying you like "Cougar Town" squarely puts you in that corner. Ironically.
- OH! Hipsters. This reminds me that you should also be watching "Happy Endings," another show on ABC. It's made for 20-somethings of all ages. Trust me. I can't even, with this show. You just need to watch it. But they have a Nerf gun ep, a hipster ep, a Hitler/coming out ep, and other things that you can TOTES relate to. TOTES. Do it.
Holy shit, that is a lot of random thoughts... most of them about TV. I think I have a problem. SOMEONE GET ME A JOB CARING ABOUT TV. OR ENTERTAINMENT IN GENERAL. I could blog all day about shit like that, and be just as funny as people on snarky entertainment sites (the point being that most of those people aren't all that funny). Plus, all those people are, like, 23 or some ridiculous shit, so I should DEFINITELY HAVE THEIR JOBS BECAUSE I'M OLDER. GIVE THEM. GIVE ME ALL THE JOBS.
Remember when this post was about pickles?
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Don't be a Secret Bitch.
I'm increasingly getting annoyed at a certain type of person. I've encountered many of them of my life, as I'm sure other people have as well. (Man, is that ever a Peter King sentence.) The type of person I'm talking about is the Secret Bitch. Now, before I continue, I will state that the same things I'm about to say also apply to certain men. Some may call those people Secret Assholes, but I don't believe in gender discrimination in my curse words, so they're all Secret Bitches to me.
So now, I will draft an open letter to Secret Bitches:
Hey, Secret Bitch. How's it going? Secretly bitchily (woah, double adverb), I'd guess. Here's the thing: I am a bitch. Hell... I am a Bitch. So what's the difference between you and me? I'm open and honest about being a bitch. I understand that my bitchiness prevents certain people from liking me. Some perceive my bitchiness as a character flaw. I'm fine with that. I enjoy being a Bitch, although I'm also aware of when I step over the line. (Doesn't mean I take my "over the line" action back, but... that's a blogsby for another day.)
You, however, are the exact description of my title: Secret Bitch. You have an uncanny ability to be really nice and considerate at first, and often seem like you're a good listener. But once you're "in" with people, the real you comes out. Conversations cannot last 3 minutes without you interrupting to make the focus come back to you. Slowly, but surely, the people with whom you've entrenched yourself are too far in to do anything about it. We just have to sit there while you constantly commandeer the conversation into whatever boring story you want to tell.
I mean... we thought you were cool! Even out-and-out bitches (like myself) are cool sometimes. But you... you go from being cool for the first month or two to being consistently LAME and SELFISH and SECRETLY BITCHY. For shame, Secret Bitch. For shame.
Here's my point (do I have one? I don't even know anymore, honestly, but this is a letter, so I suppose I should act like I do): No matter what kind of bitch (or Bitch) you are, you should always be aware that no one wants to hear you talk all the time. No one thinks you're cool all the time. No one thinks you're right all the time. No one wants to hear you talk about how cool and/or right you are all the time. Except you. And if that's the case, then maybe you should just stay in your apartment and talk to yourself.
Clearly, you have the ability to understand sharing in conversations (see: the first month or two of meeting someone). WHY is it, after you know someone, that you think those basic skills of communication can be eliminated? YOU HAVE TO SHARE. Even if you think someone else's conversation is super boring, ALLOW for them to finish their story. Then you can go on and on about some lame thing no one ELSE cares about. This is the "magic" of being social - no one wants to hear anyone else's story, and each person wants to tell his/her story. Live with that, and learn how to share the limelight.
Otherwise, my out-and-out bitchiness will erupt in an inappropriate way, and it'll make everyone feel uncomfortable. Except for me, of course, because I DON'T GIVE A SHIT.
So now, I will draft an open letter to Secret Bitches:
Hey, Secret Bitch. How's it going? Secretly bitchily (woah, double adverb), I'd guess. Here's the thing: I am a bitch. Hell... I am a Bitch. So what's the difference between you and me? I'm open and honest about being a bitch. I understand that my bitchiness prevents certain people from liking me. Some perceive my bitchiness as a character flaw. I'm fine with that. I enjoy being a Bitch, although I'm also aware of when I step over the line. (Doesn't mean I take my "over the line" action back, but... that's a blogsby for another day.)
You, however, are the exact description of my title: Secret Bitch. You have an uncanny ability to be really nice and considerate at first, and often seem like you're a good listener. But once you're "in" with people, the real you comes out. Conversations cannot last 3 minutes without you interrupting to make the focus come back to you. Slowly, but surely, the people with whom you've entrenched yourself are too far in to do anything about it. We just have to sit there while you constantly commandeer the conversation into whatever boring story you want to tell.
I mean... we thought you were cool! Even out-and-out bitches (like myself) are cool sometimes. But you... you go from being cool for the first month or two to being consistently LAME and SELFISH and SECRETLY BITCHY. For shame, Secret Bitch. For shame.
Here's my point (do I have one? I don't even know anymore, honestly, but this is a letter, so I suppose I should act like I do): No matter what kind of bitch (or Bitch) you are, you should always be aware that no one wants to hear you talk all the time. No one thinks you're cool all the time. No one thinks you're right all the time. No one wants to hear you talk about how cool and/or right you are all the time. Except you. And if that's the case, then maybe you should just stay in your apartment and talk to yourself.
Clearly, you have the ability to understand sharing in conversations (see: the first month or two of meeting someone). WHY is it, after you know someone, that you think those basic skills of communication can be eliminated? YOU HAVE TO SHARE. Even if you think someone else's conversation is super boring, ALLOW for them to finish their story. Then you can go on and on about some lame thing no one ELSE cares about. This is the "magic" of being social - no one wants to hear anyone else's story, and each person wants to tell his/her story. Live with that, and learn how to share the limelight.
Otherwise, my out-and-out bitchiness will erupt in an inappropriate way, and it'll make everyone feel uncomfortable. Except for me, of course, because I DON'T GIVE A SHIT.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Things that I'm over...
I feel like I should change that title. It's grammatically weird, and I feel like I could be wittier. If, by the end of this post, I change it, I'll come back up here with an "EDIT" in brackets that explains what it used to be, and why I changed it to what it is. Because everyone is clammoring (clamoring? I see that spell check says that's right, and I also realize that I could go back and fix my spelling error, but "clammoring" looks like some kind of AWFUL yet AWESOME sexual act, like a vagina ATTACKING YOUR FUCKING FACE, so I'll keep it) to know my innermost thoughts. If you disagree, then I'm not quite sure why you're reading my blogsby.
Anyway, this post is, in a way, dedicated to Charlie Sheen. (Man, imagine that I still have this blogsby in 20 years [do you think we'll even HAVE computers like these in 20 years? I bet no matter what we have, EVERY SINGLE FUCKING PERSON will have a blog - sorry, I mean a blogsby, and if I have my way, ALL YOU BITCHES will be calling them blogsbies], and I see the sentence I just wrote [at the beginning of this paragraph, if you were wondering], and I have no recollection of why Charlie Sheen was so big in early 2011. That would be awesome. But if there's one thing my brain retains, it's useless pop culture trivia. I'd bet money that I could be 70 years old, and be able to recall Charlie Sheen's tiger-blooded idiocy. Sigh. Sometimes, I am not proud of myself. [Also? Most of this blogsby, at this point, has been in parentheses or brackets. This does not bode well. {OR DOES IT BODE AWESOME?!}])
(And now I have to start a new paragraph because that got so out of hand.) Everyone seems to be falling into one of these camps: 1) they think Charlie Sheen is awesome, although obviously screwed up, and are amused by what he says, 2) they think Charlie Sheen is obnoxious, and obviously screwed up, and want him put away somewhere so they don't have to listen to it anymore. Somehow, I fall into both categories. I don't want to explain it. I'm a dichotomy (wrapped in an enigma and covered in a blahblahblah I'M SO FUCKING WITTY). The point is, all of this Sheeniness (OH GOD that word bothers me to no end, because my family used to call me Shina [WHY AM I TELLING YOU THIS I SHOULD JUST GO TO BED BUT I'M SUPPOSED TO BE WORKING ON THINGS AND MY BRAIN IS BEING FULL OF CRAZY {but not Sheen crazy} SO I HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD TO WRITE A FUCKING BLOGSBY] but everyone would spell it Sheena, and now I just though of myself being Charlie Sheen and I think I'm having a brain aneuryism) made me think about all of the "things" that I'm over. Which, as of now, are really two things. But I'm sure I'll think of more as I write. Because, as you can tell, I'm clearly of sound mind right now. Can't is the cancer of happen, and all that.
Anyway. Here we go.
Covers of "Creep" by Radiohead. This might lose me friends... but I can't help it. I mean, I've heard great covers of that song. And I feel like I could easily argue that I'd rather people cover THAT song well than any other Radiohead song badly. But... it's not true. If you're a good musician (and those of you out there who know me, and who cover "Creep," fall into that category), then I'd hope you know more Radiohead songs. Because they have some that would be AWESOME to cover. I mean, I'll take a fucking cover of "High and Dry" at this point. QUIT PLAYING "CREEP." Please. Go find a way to make an acoustic version of a song off Kid A. Seriously - I dare you. I can think of two songs on that album right now that could rock that shit. Let's change it up, folks. (For the record, Brittany - I feel as though you will take this personally. It's not personal. Your version is awesome. But I've heard, literally, 5 other people cover that fucking song since you have. So now, even your version is tainted for me. Blame all of the other people for ruining your pretty, pretty cover.)
Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. Oh look! Another that might lose me friends. And I'll start it in a similar way - I mean, I like the show. But it's not THAT fucking great. I've never really gotten the intense, ass-devouring love of Aaron Sorkin. (Robert Evans time - if you don't know what that means, look it up. I'm took lazy to link things.) Did I enjoy The Social Network? Yes. Was Sports Night the shit? OF COURSE. Did The West Wing make me think about important things, while also making me tired at the same time? You betcha. I'm just saying, I think he's a great writer, but I also think he's a bit of a self-important ass... which doesn't make him all that different from other Hollywoodies (pretty sure I didn't make up that term, but it sounds stupid enough to be mine), but I don't like those people's writing either. Correction: I actually DO like Sorkin's writing (obviously; see above), I just don't see what all the hoopla is all about. (Sidenote: "hoopla" was used in a Wheel of Fortune puzzle today, and I decided that I wanted to use it more in every day life. Also, I need to stop it with the sidenotes. However, does it make it better when I actually ALERT you to the fact that it's a sidenote? And YES, I know I should write it "side note," but I like to think of it as one word in my head, so one word it will be. And ALSO YES, I watch Wheel of Fortune because IT'S FUCKING AWESOME. I also watch Jeopardy twice a day, so my mind is like a steel trap. Or a sad mid-40s housewife.)
SIGH. Tashina... stay on track.
The point is, with Studio 60, so many people seem to blame 30 Rock for its demise. Let's be clear: 30 Rock's ratings weren't GREAT either, but they were higher than Studio 60. Or, at least they stayed steady, while Studio 60's rapidly declined (until the very end, when they rose up incrementally). My biggest problem with Studio 60 lies (lied? I mean, I feel like present tense is fine because you can still watch the show on DVD) with the sketches they presented on the show within a show. They just... aren't that funny. That Gilbert & Sullivan thing was mildly amusing to me, because I know who the fuck G&S are. (See? I abbreviated it, that's how you know I know who they are.) But even so, I wondered how many people would actually get it. And let's be clear, I LOVE being able to watch shows and understand things that no one else gets. (This usually happens because I Google it, and pretend like I already knew it. I am a fraud. But I know things! Kinda!) This is the mark of being a pretentious asshole, which I enjoy being. But that ONE sketch is just the tip of the iceberg. The reason 30 Rock sketches work is that they show so little of them. You get just enough to know if it's ridiculous, or dumb, or whatever the writers want you to think of that sketch. But with Studio 60, it's an entire show based on two brilliant writers who are too good for people to understand, and they come back to save their old show, and everything is supposed to be genius. But it's not, and it's never admitted that it's not. (I mean, fine, they did sometimes, but they often put up a lot of shitty sketches that they thought were awesome.) While I don't think that's why the show got canned, that's certainly why I don't LOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE it. I like it. I'll probably own it on DVD one day. But I'll probably be fast-forwarding past a lot of those sketches when/if I watch it again.
And these are my two things that I'm over. I guess I didn't come up with a better blogsby title. Although I'm tempted to put a moratorium on the word "blogsby" because I'd bet that it's something a lot of OTHER people are over.
Oh, hey! Aaron Sorkin used to do crack. Charlie Sheen is clearly on some form of crack-like substance (even if that substance is "his brain"). We have come full circle.
(Also, I know that prepositions aren't supposed to be on the ends of sentences, but the English language has given up on the internet, so I'm giving up on the English language. DEALWITHIT. No spaces, motherfuckers.)
Anyway, this post is, in a way, dedicated to Charlie Sheen. (Man, imagine that I still have this blogsby in 20 years [do you think we'll even HAVE computers like these in 20 years? I bet no matter what we have, EVERY SINGLE FUCKING PERSON will have a blog - sorry, I mean a blogsby, and if I have my way, ALL YOU BITCHES will be calling them blogsbies], and I see the sentence I just wrote [at the beginning of this paragraph, if you were wondering], and I have no recollection of why Charlie Sheen was so big in early 2011. That would be awesome. But if there's one thing my brain retains, it's useless pop culture trivia. I'd bet money that I could be 70 years old, and be able to recall Charlie Sheen's tiger-blooded idiocy. Sigh. Sometimes, I am not proud of myself. [Also? Most of this blogsby, at this point, has been in parentheses or brackets. This does not bode well. {OR DOES IT BODE AWESOME?!}])
(And now I have to start a new paragraph because that got so out of hand.) Everyone seems to be falling into one of these camps: 1) they think Charlie Sheen is awesome, although obviously screwed up, and are amused by what he says, 2) they think Charlie Sheen is obnoxious, and obviously screwed up, and want him put away somewhere so they don't have to listen to it anymore. Somehow, I fall into both categories. I don't want to explain it. I'm a dichotomy (wrapped in an enigma and covered in a blahblahblah I'M SO FUCKING WITTY). The point is, all of this Sheeniness (OH GOD that word bothers me to no end, because my family used to call me Shina [WHY AM I TELLING YOU THIS I SHOULD JUST GO TO BED BUT I'M SUPPOSED TO BE WORKING ON THINGS AND MY BRAIN IS BEING FULL OF CRAZY {but not Sheen crazy} SO I HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD TO WRITE A FUCKING BLOGSBY] but everyone would spell it Sheena, and now I just though of myself being Charlie Sheen and I think I'm having a brain aneuryism) made me think about all of the "things" that I'm over. Which, as of now, are really two things. But I'm sure I'll think of more as I write. Because, as you can tell, I'm clearly of sound mind right now. Can't is the cancer of happen, and all that.
Anyway. Here we go.
Covers of "Creep" by Radiohead. This might lose me friends... but I can't help it. I mean, I've heard great covers of that song. And I feel like I could easily argue that I'd rather people cover THAT song well than any other Radiohead song badly. But... it's not true. If you're a good musician (and those of you out there who know me, and who cover "Creep," fall into that category), then I'd hope you know more Radiohead songs. Because they have some that would be AWESOME to cover. I mean, I'll take a fucking cover of "High and Dry" at this point. QUIT PLAYING "CREEP." Please. Go find a way to make an acoustic version of a song off Kid A. Seriously - I dare you. I can think of two songs on that album right now that could rock that shit. Let's change it up, folks. (For the record, Brittany - I feel as though you will take this personally. It's not personal. Your version is awesome. But I've heard, literally, 5 other people cover that fucking song since you have. So now, even your version is tainted for me. Blame all of the other people for ruining your pretty, pretty cover.)
Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. Oh look! Another that might lose me friends. And I'll start it in a similar way - I mean, I like the show. But it's not THAT fucking great. I've never really gotten the intense, ass-devouring love of Aaron Sorkin. (Robert Evans time - if you don't know what that means, look it up. I'm took lazy to link things.) Did I enjoy The Social Network? Yes. Was Sports Night the shit? OF COURSE. Did The West Wing make me think about important things, while also making me tired at the same time? You betcha. I'm just saying, I think he's a great writer, but I also think he's a bit of a self-important ass... which doesn't make him all that different from other Hollywoodies (pretty sure I didn't make up that term, but it sounds stupid enough to be mine), but I don't like those people's writing either. Correction: I actually DO like Sorkin's writing (obviously; see above), I just don't see what all the hoopla is all about. (Sidenote: "hoopla" was used in a Wheel of Fortune puzzle today, and I decided that I wanted to use it more in every day life. Also, I need to stop it with the sidenotes. However, does it make it better when I actually ALERT you to the fact that it's a sidenote? And YES, I know I should write it "side note," but I like to think of it as one word in my head, so one word it will be. And ALSO YES, I watch Wheel of Fortune because IT'S FUCKING AWESOME. I also watch Jeopardy twice a day, so my mind is like a steel trap. Or a sad mid-40s housewife.)
SIGH. Tashina... stay on track.
The point is, with Studio 60, so many people seem to blame 30 Rock for its demise. Let's be clear: 30 Rock's ratings weren't GREAT either, but they were higher than Studio 60. Or, at least they stayed steady, while Studio 60's rapidly declined (until the very end, when they rose up incrementally). My biggest problem with Studio 60 lies (lied? I mean, I feel like present tense is fine because you can still watch the show on DVD) with the sketches they presented on the show within a show. They just... aren't that funny. That Gilbert & Sullivan thing was mildly amusing to me, because I know who the fuck G&S are. (See? I abbreviated it, that's how you know I know who they are.) But even so, I wondered how many people would actually get it. And let's be clear, I LOVE being able to watch shows and understand things that no one else gets. (This usually happens because I Google it, and pretend like I already knew it. I am a fraud. But I know things! Kinda!) This is the mark of being a pretentious asshole, which I enjoy being. But that ONE sketch is just the tip of the iceberg. The reason 30 Rock sketches work is that they show so little of them. You get just enough to know if it's ridiculous, or dumb, or whatever the writers want you to think of that sketch. But with Studio 60, it's an entire show based on two brilliant writers who are too good for people to understand, and they come back to save their old show, and everything is supposed to be genius. But it's not, and it's never admitted that it's not. (I mean, fine, they did sometimes, but they often put up a lot of shitty sketches that they thought were awesome.) While I don't think that's why the show got canned, that's certainly why I don't LOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE it. I like it. I'll probably own it on DVD one day. But I'll probably be fast-forwarding past a lot of those sketches when/if I watch it again.
And these are my two things that I'm over. I guess I didn't come up with a better blogsby title. Although I'm tempted to put a moratorium on the word "blogsby" because I'd bet that it's something a lot of OTHER people are over.
Oh, hey! Aaron Sorkin used to do crack. Charlie Sheen is clearly on some form of crack-like substance (even if that substance is "his brain"). We have come full circle.
(Also, I know that prepositions aren't supposed to be on the ends of sentences, but the English language has given up on the internet, so I'm giving up on the English language. DEALWITHIT. No spaces, motherfuckers.)
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