February 22, 2006
If you don't have anything better to do, watch "Jimmy Kimmel Live!" on Thursday.
And, uh, look for a weird raccoon-headed girl in the studio audience laughing too loudly.
TIVO'D!!
February 20, 2006
Now, normally I don't like to talk about links on here, especially news links, because someone in the news says something retarded just about every other day and there's no real need to report it here. But I've been noticing an alarming trend culminating in three articles I saw today on cnn.com, and I just have to bring them to your attention.
Let me preface this by talking about an annoyance that anyone smart enough to have found me in this corner of the internet no doubt shares with me. In my recent attempts to better myself, I have been reading a lot of "How To" books. The book in question is about screenwriting, and it included a chapter that was basically about "How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love The Computer." It wasn't really called that, but maybe if it were, the woman would be selling more movies instead of books on how to write movies if you catch my drift. Anyway, this majority of the book contained useful insider information and treated the readers as if they were each creative potential new talents, but this particular chapter treated them as if they were all elderly women who were shocked at the sudden emergence of all these wacky Automatic Teller Machines and escalators.
It actually contained the following phrase: "It's amazing what can be done when computer geeks work with entertainment types!" This offended me to no end. That's sort of like saying a 2-dimensional by-the-books insurance analyst and a flaky 2-dimensional free-spirit can't possibly function as normal humans without each other. Oh, wait. That was just a crappy Ben Stiller movie I saw last night.
No, I just find it old-fashioned to think of the "computer geek" as this robotic, uncreative drone and the "entertainment type" as an artsy, computer-illiterate ink slinger instead of the various shades of in-between they all actually are. When will it finally be hack to shrug and sheepishly label oneself unable to grasp the functions of a basic word processor? Did all the carriage drivers of the past fold their arms and turn up their noses at the newfangled automobiles because they "just didn't get" them? Or did they get their act together and get with the times?
I say that to bring to light these articles I read today which seem to be indicative of this growing trend of idiocy and fear.
First, I bring you this article which is about a murderer who is reported to have a growing number of supporters.
Quote of interest: "At least two Internet Web logs -- known as blogs -- chronicle all the twists and turns in the case..."
Firstly, HOLD THE PHONE, TWO WEB LOGS?!? CALL THE PRESIDENT!!
You know what? I know of at LEAST two websites that contain pornography for people who are aroused by women who can pop balloons with their asses, so don't talk to me about two websites indicating a growing trend. Second, I'm sorry, but what person alive OR dead doesn't know what a blog is by now? Who are they so afraid of alienating here? I know of dead monkeys without brains who frequently surf the internet AND update their web logs -- known as blogs -- so there.
Second, we have this story about a sexual predator who found his prey on MySpace.
Quote of interest: "What started out as a chat on MySpace.com has led to the arrest of a Castle Hills man..."
Either "chat" is now defined as an email or a comment on a message board, or some reporter didn't do his homework. Oh, there IS a Chat feature on MySpace, but even if it hadn't been broken since the day the code was written, any self-respecting computer user already has a chat program with which to communicate with his friends. Plus, if these sexual predators were able to actually access MySpace in the 15 minutes per day that it isn't down, that's a feat in itself, and there should be an article on THAT. Of course, that would probably just encourage more than 3 people to log on at once and it would crash again.
My guess is the San Antonio reporter of this article got the insider info on this breaking story and decided to use a hot buzz word that he learned about seven years ago so he could go back to his other pressing business of Gitting 'Er Dun.
Third is an image that speaks for itself.
Do you know what else helps the hate culture? I don't know, inbreeding? Fanatical religions?
Web sites don't burn crosses. Are we going to have late breaking news of evil paper that allows supremacist literature to be printed on it? Is the media too tired of blaming video games for society's evils? Why don't they just seal the deal with everything I care about and blame societal ills on raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens? Why you gots to be all hating on the internet? Can a 9-sentence paragraph contain only one ending with a period?
On the flip side of this coin, we have people trying to drag viewers of traditional media (print and television) kicking and screaming by pointing out hip web trends to the masses the way a teacher points out pretty colors to a kindergartener. Case in point, the fact that the Chuck Norris Random Fact Generator was covered by the Washington Damn Post or that Patrice O'Suck's new show "Web Junk 20" on VH1 is gaining acclaim for showing the same internet clips I saw two years ago on Gorilla Mask. Now, I haven't even seen "Best Week Ever," and I love "I Love The [Decade]" as much as the next person, but does it seem to anyone else like VH1 is just becoming sort of like a book about a bunch of really good books? Or like that one kid in high school who constantly quoted funny movies because he could never actually come up with something funny himself? But I digress.
My point is that the internet is a way of life, and it's probably going to stay that way for a long time, so all everyone (present company excluded) needs to get with the program and accept it. When I'm more savvy than a significant portion of the masses, there needs to be a major societal change. Now, I think the internet closes at 4:00 on weekdays, so I will be keeping track of your comments on this abacus I have here. Thank you for your patience.
February 18, 2006
So I was driving home from work today, and I take a fairly high-traffic road that passes under a major highway. (Sorry, California -- FREEway)
I see a huge sign in the back of a car parked under the overpass that says SALE.
Now, in any other city, I probably wouldn't give it much attention. In Pittsburgh, a huge SALE sign means Granny's selling off her moomoo collection for Bingo money. In California, it can mean anything from delicious, delicious oranges, to mattress sets, to Mexican children.
Today it meant guitars and violins.
On my initial drive-by, it looked a tiny bit sketchy, but the guys were kind of old and, well, playing violins, which everyone knows bad people don't do.
Justin had been mentioning his loneliness for his electric guitar we had to leave in Pittsburgh, so I drove around the block to tell myself it wasn't a complete impulse buy (that would have been stopping in the middle of the street when I first saw it and running through traffic with my wallet out.)
You people are going to become more and more afraid of my various neuroses as I divulge them on this site, but I don't mind telling you that I was initially terrified of pulling over, not because the merchandise might be hot, but because I would likely have to talk to these people. Store shopping is bad enough with salespeople and their asking if everything's fitting okay and barraging me with their store credit cards, but at least there I can dive into a pile of mannequins and hope to blend in or something.
As soon as I got out of the car, one of the older men asked me if I played the violin. I politely told him no and tried to make my way over to the guitars. My fears became realized when the man persisted and went on to tell me how easy the violin is and that he could teach me in under an hour.
Now, in my rational "sitting in front of the computer at home" mind, I know that he was just being a friendly salesperson, but at the time I was already mapping an escape route for if he actually tried to force me to learn the violin in under an hour.
I made my way over to the acoustics (remember -- all this is just displayed out on a sidewalk) and a nicer talking-less gentleman told me the prices, pointing out two identical guitars, one that was $300 and one that was $70 or best offer.
I picked up the cheap one and just strummed a few strings to tell if it was out of tune. I can't play anything but "Wipeout," but I can tell if it's tuned or not.
Well, the supersalesmen scrambled around and got me a chair so that I could strum easily and choose the guitar, when I was actually just making sure that it wasn't made out of balsa wood.
So I sat in the chair by the side of the road and tried to look like I knew what I was doing with this guitar, and a car drove by and a guy yelled out, "Freebird!"
I laughed really loud and scared the guys into lowering the price for the crazy laughing lady.
Maybe you think people who are afraid of people are also afraid to haggle.
Maybe you are a fool.
I knew that my rational home self would be upset at my timid public self, so I got the guy down to $55.
And I'm as free as a bird now,
And this bird you cannot change.
I love this city.
February 14, 2006
So instead of doing the thousand things I'm actually supposed to be doing, I went to the Face Recognition website and matched my face and the faces of my friends to various celebrities.
They all probably disagree with me, and I might just get punched in the face for using a 3-year-old picture of Melissa, but I'm putting them here anyway, 'cause that's how I roll.
Amusing, but I'm pretty sure my similarity to Elton John is just the glasses.
And my love of men.
Ah, much better! Whenever I look in the mirror, I often think I look like a pixelated newspaper clipping.
Why did it not match Batman, I wonder? And who's that other Elton-John-looking weirdo?
I swear I did not make this up. Many of you don't know how hilarious this is, but Melissa's love of Russia is akin to my love of Japan. And cakes.
All right. Back to being productive. (?)
PS -- I did it here
February 12, 2006
I often make fun of people mercilessly, and any psychology major can tell you this invariably means that, in my own head, I actually constantly psychoanalyze my own self and replay my interactions with people in my head to the point of obsession.
Case in point, my Friday evening.
Justin and I were preparing to meet my friend Casey and his soon-to-be new roommate Allegra. I had met her before when I was in college, but neither of us really remembered the occasion, and as Casey informed each of us that we had similar senses of humor, I was prepared for a fun evening.
Justin mentioned that he didn't have any cash on him, and with banks closed and without a major credit card or an ability to slip him mine and forge my name, I worried that he wouldn't make a chivalrous impression to my two friends if I had to pay for us both.
I, of course, didn't MIND, but I want to stress that my original intent was to prevent Justin from looking bad. I could also point out that Justin likely didn't care either way, but the point is I was trying to do something nice.
Now, often when I go out with Kameron and her fiance Sean, Sean will pay for all three of us, and I constantly protest, but he waves me off with his hand.
When my parents take their adult friends out, there is always a huge brawl over the check, with my mom (she's really buff) emerging victorious and treating her friends to dinner with the promise that they can pay next time.
As a matter of fact, when I used to work at Eat 'n Park, ladies would pull me aside and slip me their credit cards so that their friends would be treated and the damage would already be done before they had a chance to protest.
I say that to say this.
I was playing on my laptop when I realized that I had to either pay for me and Justin or stop at a supermarket so Justin could buy a stick of gum and get cash back. Being both lazy AND in the middle of a critical instance in Fable that wouldn't save my progress if I quit early, I opted for paying for us both.
But how to save face for Justin? I recalled the teachings of Kameron and Sean and my parents and realized that the nice thing to do would be to pay for Casey and Allegra. After all, I had done it before for Melissa, and she paid me back the next time. Sure, Melissa and I treated each other at buffets and sandwich joints and I was taking my new friends to a swanky sushi restaurant, but what harm could it do?
I would look like a generous friend AND maybe even come off as an actual adult, as my parents always did.
Casey arrived before Allegra and started to head back to the door to get his wallet that he'd left in the car. I took this chance to tell him my plan, and the look on his face would have been the same if I had told him we were also dining with Charles Manson and would he wear this Sharon Tate costume?
Okay, that metaphor was a bit of a stretch, but he did look ready to head for the hills.
He protested about five or six times, but I insisted and I ended up winning, the way I was taught to.
When Allegra came, we sort of went through the same thing again, but I insisted that we'd just do the old Round Robin the next few times we went out.
Right, guys? I mean, it's not like we're all going to hate each other after tonight!
Ha ha! Ha... Ha.
The night passed pleasantly. We ate, we laughed, we made fun of everyone. It was delightful. I was feeling pretty happy that I now had two new friends to hang out with in this insanely populated but still lonely city.
The check came, and everyone looked awkward again, but I happily paid and promised to eat with them again soon.
Casey insisted that he then take us all out for coffee and ice cream RIGHT THEN and that it wouldn't even count towards his night out.
I felt a little weird about that, but I thought it would make HIM feel less weird, so I let him do it.
We laughed into the night and then finally hugged each other and made our way home. Then I entered into my own personal hell and shame spiral.
Casey and Allegra really looked uncomfortable with me paying.
Did I look like I was flaunting some sort of wealth?
I'm NOT rich, and I certainly didn't really need that expense, but I'd always rather have a fun night out with my friends than a new DVD or video game.
Okay, a new DVD. But still. The point stands.
Did I look like I was showing off?
OR, oh no! Did I accidentally impose on THEM some extravagant dinner that THEY can't afford either?!
I looked to Justin to calm my woes, and he reminded me that I didn't have to do it, but it was nice of me anyway and to quit worrying. Ha!
I called my dad the next day, knowing he would understand since he himself plays this little "I'll pay for everyone to be nice, even though I don't want to, it's just what you DO" game.
He basically told me that I was a lunatic and at 25 I couldn't afford to do things like that and they can't either, and he only pays for people who have initiated the whole pay-for-someone-else cycle and WHY COULDN'T IT HAVE ENDED WITH ME, THE NEW GENERATION, THE GENERATION OF HOPE?!?
So, yeah, that's basically been my weekend.
Worrying, feeling ashamed, feeling guilty, and for what again?
All because I thought I was doing something nice.
The amusing epilogue happened last night when while eating out at Chili's with Melissa and Traci.
No sooner than I had announced loudly that not only would I be paying only for my own portion of food, but I would give them each a few cents for the fries I stole from them, I got a call from Allegra.
She got my number from Casey just so she could apologize for eating so much sushi AND ordering a drink, and I must think that she's a terrible person and SHE'S been worrying all weekend, as well.
So I have successfully ruined 4 people's lives.
I told her that the next time we saw each other, we could all sit down wearing
old-timey green accountant's visors, and I would whip out the check and we could divide it exactly into fourths so that balance could be restored in the universe.
And I really think that's the only way.
That'll teach me to do something nice that I learned to do from my parents, even though I really never understood the point of it myself.
And that, IRS, is why I'm not doing my taxes this year.
February 09, 2006
Everyone asked me if I made any New Year's Resolutions, and since I'm an egotistical jerk, I told them that there wasn't anything about me to improve.
Then I helpfully suggested what resolutions they ought to make, and I pushed them in a mud puddle.
But I've been giving it a lot of thought, and I have a lot of resolutions I think the world ought to make.
Here are the top 5 or so things this world can do without.
-The phrase "So (anything)" spoken by anyone over 13 years old and not a girl.
We're not on the "Gilmore Girls," people.
There really aren't hip moms out there who talk like that.
In fact, no one talks like that. They have to supply the cast oxygen tanks between takes to keep them from passing out because they don't breathe between lines.
-The phrase "I know. Right?"
I cannot emphasize how much I hate this trend.
If you haven't heard it used, it doesn't get much more annoying than this.
"Hey, it's really great that we got off work 10 minutes early."
"I know. Right?"
You can't ask me if you're right, you just agreed with me.
Yes, right. That's why I said it.
-People on television shows who pretend they don't know what children are.
Is anyone else sick of writers hacking away at this concept?
Yes, the girl is stuck-up and detached from reality, but I'm not going to suspend my disbelief into thinking she doesn't understand the fundamentals of children.
I've never seen "Sex and the City," but I know there's some hoity toity career aggressive woman or something, and I'll bet you she has some wacky mishap where she has to watch a child, and she knocks the soccer moms off their couches with hilarious quips like, "Am I supposed to feed this...thing?" or "What's your favorite flavor martini, Jenny?"
Oh, man! The jokes write themselves! Which is why they're not funny at all!
-Something being the new something else.
This trend was funny the first time I heard it, and got old the second after I heard it, when 30 more people made the same joke.
Pink is the new Black! Gay is the new Straight! Bloody faces from Lauren's fist is the new "is the new" joke result!
-The phrase "talk about."
This is an oldie and obscurie, but it still bugs me.
Things with blurred etymology always bug me.
"So, I went to this car dealership, and talk about low prices!"
Is that a request? Well, low prices are good, and you need better conversation topics. It's not all up to me, pal! Conversations are a two-way street!
I'm sure plenty else needs to be changed, but let's start with these few, and if we all work together to punch the people who parrot these trendy phrases, then we will have a lot of punched people, and I call that progress.
(Don't sue me, Hasbro)
February 07, 2006
So, say you knew a really cool young webdesigner who fancied herself quite a quipper.
And one day she decided to sit down and design a few images she thought were pretty funny to be sold on a cloth material to other comedy conesuiers.
These jokes relied on popular culture, and as such, certain fonts and a few logos were used that could be easily traced back to certain movie-related corporations and one government military institution.
What this one nice webdesigner would like to know is if there are any nice copyright lawyers or other type of Smart Law-Type Person out there who could tell her something along the lines of either:
-"You're just fine! You fall under the Fair Use as Parody category, and you will make millions of children smile."
-"That's a little iffy, but if anyone had a problem, they would contact you, and all you would have to do is take your idea/product off the internet, and you'll be fine."
OR
-"You are guilty for even thinking of it, and the police are on their way to your house right now."
This is all completely hypothetical and I in no way have dreams of quitting my job and selling t-shirts to frat boys.
Advice is appreciated.
I know there's something else called that, but I don't know what that is, and I really did have it.
Let's recap, shall we?
Last Monday, I had off.
I woke up early and Melissa called me to have lunch with her on the Fox lot.
Fucking shit is right. She even had to call the front gate to let me in!
So full of life, this city!
While I waited for her awkwardly on the lawn while every studio exec and Mover And Shaker walked past me and judged me, I saw a famous lady I couldn't place.
The next morning it hit me out of the blue that it was Michael's girlfriend on LOST.
I know! I thought she was dead, too! Turns out it was just another one of Hollywood's tricks.
Melissa then took me to the Fox Studio Store where the staff had to quickly mop up my drool off of all 7 seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Now, don't tell anyone, but I also got to see the set of the WB's hit new show, Pepper Dennis!
Melissa thought it would be funny to pretend that I mistook the set of an office for her actual office, and when I kept asking her, "So where do you work?" (meaning "Where is the building with your office?") she kept pretending I meant, "Gee wilikers! This is a purdy office you got here! Why are there pictures of Rebecca Romijn all over? Do you sit here in front of this camera?"
Very funny, Melissa. Very funny.
She then actually did take me to where she worked, and I proceeded to sneak into the writers' break room, reach for a piece of Orbitz gum, then awkwardly pretend like I was just stretching my back when an actual Writer walked in.
Ooh, then I met a P.A. and he gave me a free "Best In Show" DVD. Score!
I also was introduced to the writer of my favorite LOST episode.
There sure are a lot of LOST people on the Fox lot. I won't tell ABC, guys.
After I bid Melissa adieu, I proceeded to get really fucking lost on the LA freeways.
I finished off the day by buying some sweet yarn and a webcam and then eating dinner at Islands, a very cool surfing-themed restaurant with delicious cheesy fries.
Also, two people from my past happened to move back/to California this very day! My friends Casey and Julie, both from when I lived in Nashville. Weird? Yes.
Weirder still? They have remained friends with me all this long.
Tuesday sort of sucked because Melissa was just getting over some coldish sickness, and I don't remember much of that evening except achey bones and a headache.
Called off Wednesday to feel like crap in bed. Bonus: Buffy Marathon!
I also ate some artichoke dip in bed. Not a good idea, especially when you have a cat who sees invisible mice just beyond the plate and pounces in for the kill, only to coat my entire bedspread in a thin sheet of delicious now-inedible dip.
You win this round, cat.
Thursday I dragged myself into work, not feeling much better, but I figured I might as well feel like crap and get stuff done. I think we ate at Panera for dinner, though, which TOTALLY redeems any sickness. They forgot to put Justin's soup in a bread bowl, so they gave him -- I kid you not -- soup in a bread LOAF. I'm gonna shoot myself for saying this, but...LUCKY!
Friday, we went to eat at the Olive Garden, and who should our waiter be, but my old friend Andrew from theater camp! Holy cats! What a small world.
Saturday I had to work, which sucked, but afterwards I went sort of crazy and got my hair cut and colored. The girl was so cool and friendly, and I'm very happy with how it looks, even if people look at me weird now.
I didn't notice at the time how bee-like it looks, but I can see it now.
I swear I didn't ask for it! I just told her to be funky.
That night I ate with my aunt Becky (of Jordan's Mother fame) at P.F. Chang's.
We were told it was a 2-hour wait, and we waited, oh, 5 minutes.
We were also sat at a 4-person booth. I think we made a lot of people angry, but we got them back by making yum-yum noises while eating our lettuce wraps.
Sunday, I saw Eric Estrada at a PetCo. I don't think you've really LIVED in Los Angeles until you've seen Eric Estrada at a PetCo.
He was talking very loudly to his daughter about how she can't feed her dog candy.
We then shared an uncomfortable mutual stare.
Mine said, "Is that George Lopez?"
His said, "What the hell is up with that girl's hair?"
Then there was a little thing called the Super Bowl.
I kept it real by rooting for the Steelers, and Justin and I went to a packed sports bar to watch the game. When we got in, however, it was oddly quiet except for the game sounds. Also, everyone was signing to each other.
We crashed a hearing-impaired Super Bowl party and had pizza and beer. Awesome.
Today, I had lunch with Melissa again, and it was an equal delight.
Well, she's no Eric Estrada, but she doesn't tell me not to feed candy to Scamp, so I'll keep her around.
February 02, 2006
If you read Penny Arcade, and I hope you do, because otherwise I have nothing to say to you, you read about their mention of Guerilla Marketing.
Did I spell that right? Of course I did.
If you're out of the loop and are unaware of the tactics to which corporations will lower themselves, well, prepare to feel ashamed to be human once again.
It seems that these fine feathered friends of ours in the gaming industry are injecting sycophant plants into our midst.
I've seen some of this myself.
Spray paintings around LA, legitimate illegal graffiti, but secretly funded by the demons at PlayStation. How do I know it's not some kid who loves his PSP?
Well, the exact same thing is happening in New York! I'm glad they're fighting back.
Well, Penny Arcade reported that game companies now fancy hiring people whose sole purpose in life is to meander innocently into forums, gain Street Cred, and when the time is right, plant their fatherly wisdom of what games are "1337" in herpe-like pustules all over the internet.
Well, this whole facade being outed KIND OF makes me feel a bit sheepish.
I didn't want to have to come to this, but I'm sure you're all guessing...
I, too, am a plant.
Not for the illustrious gaming industry. No.
I am a plant for the scapegoat of the wild, the poor, soft honeybee.
Sure, you've seen the documentaries, you've read the news reports, maybe you've even been stung yourself.
Maybe you're a little wussy who carries around an EpiPen because you are "allergic" or "swell up" or "might die."
Well, who do you think made your delicious peanut butter and honey sandwich?
Pedro, from Food Services? No! Mr. Stingley Buzz Jr., the Honeybee.
The time is right, and if just one kid has eaten his honey after reading this site, then it was all worth it.
I should say that the manor industry also approached me, but I think they're doing fine without me.