People love armchair psychology. I think they love it more than armchair quarterbacking or back seat driving. One of the favorite diagnoses of the armchair psychoanalysis "You cannot accept love." I'm sure in some cases this might be true but I imagine in most cases this is way off base. To illustrate my point I once again turn to food, specifically the cheesecake.
"You can't accept love."
"Why because I don't to date some seemingly nice dude right now who claims to love me?"
Did it ever occur to the arm chair psychologist that some people might not be ready for dessert quite yet. Perhaps they are full from dinner (the love and affection of friends in family that takes up a good deal of their time and attention) there just isn't room for a romantic relationship right now. There just isn't room for heavy cheesecake.
Perhaps this cheesecake comes with strawberries on it, and not fresh strawberries but those strawberries from a can filled with sugary red goo. Some people love the goo while others of us would prefer chocolate chips, Oreo cookies or just plain old cheese cake. Why do I have to eat a cheesecake that I'm not really that into? Is it worth sitting at the table with my dish of cheesecake scraping off the strawberry topping? Couldn't I just wait until the cheesecake I want is available?
Of course it also could be too soon for cheesecake. You're giving me cheesecake but I haven't eaten dinner yet. Why are we jumping to cheesecake when we've only been dating a month or so. Slow down. Let's have dinner. Let's have an appetizer, a salad, an intermezzo, and a main course before we go rushing to the cheesecake. I get it we're adults now and we can have dessert anytime we want, but some of us like carrying on the tradition of earning dessert. I'll eat the cheesecake when I'm ready to eat the cheesecake.
Maybe the cheesecake is bullshit. Maybe it's made from soy. It's a soy cheesecake, that's gross. I don't want some fake cheesecake. Sure it looks like a cheesecake and sort of feels like a cheesecake but it doesn't taste like a cheesecake, and all that natural estrogen presents its own health risks. So from across the room you think I'm being offered genuine cheesecake but I know from where I sit that it's just an imposter. Listen, I'm not eating the soy cheesecake and you can't make me do it.
Friday, December 26, 2008
People love armchair psychology. I think they love it more than armchair quarterbacking or back seat driving. One of the favorite diagnoses of the armchair psychoanalysis "You cannot accept love." I'm sure in some cases this might be true but I imagine in most cases this is way off base. To illustrate my point I once again turn to food, specifically the cheesecake.
Monday, December 22, 2008
The scheme was set Anna would wait for her latest victim...err...latest romantic prospect to call and then ignore the call. Then she would spend the rest of the night and perhaps the next day not calling him back. She was sure he would call as he was good about calling. I know. I know, most women spend their whole lives looking for a guy who is good about calling, but when Anna feels she has been wronged there is no seeing the silver lining. So the boy called and as planned Anna hit the ignore button on her phone. The young man left a message in her voice mail. And then everything went to shit.
His message: "Hey honey, sorry I missed your call, but I'm calling you back. OK."
Anna went mad. She didn't call him today. He didn't miss her call. How can he miss a call she never made. Now he's walking around thinking he isn't being ignored. He's walking around not questioning what the hell is going on with this relationship. He's walking around thinking she tried to get in touch with him. Oh how cruel the dating world can be. It's not like she can call or text him to tell him that she never called. By doing that she would no longer be ignoring him.
We are not sure how this happened. There are two theories we've come up with. One, Anna had called him a few days ago and he missed the call but they wound up hanging out anyway and so he never noticed he missed the call until today. Or two, he's a clever clever man, who saw right through the cold shoulder plan and pretended he was calling her back in hopes of driving an already tetering pyche over the edge. We may never know the truth behind this anti-Christmas miracle.
I guess all Anna can do is go on ignoring him until they're married or no longer dating.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Basically, I need to find an apartment because I can't move in with my boyfriend Jack until I'm married to James. Once married I will no longer be a harlot living in sin. Some suggest I'll be a harlot for carrying on with someone who is not my husband, but James and are not vowing monogamy, hell we're not even vowing to sleep with one another.
In closing let me know if you know someone who needs a roommate where sex and romance are off the table because I clearly have a full plate in that regard. (I love mixing kitchen metaphors)
Monday, December 01, 2008
You know, Rachael, I figured it out finally. You know how you and I for years have believed that friendships are more significant than romantic relationships? I never understood how anyone could see it differently. But finally I get it. A person can be a friend with someone with bad breath, but you can't date someone with bad breath. I mean, there they are lying next you in bed their mouth agape. Rhythmically air gets blown into your face (warm, humid, sticky air) as you're trying to sleep. That's bad enough but now think if that air is filled with the stench of digested onions. Let's face it dating is smelly endeavor and either you luck into finding yourself an unscented individual or you've got to just be friends.
Do you see? Your friends are sleeping and breathing on you. They're not asking you to kiss their odiferous microbe filled mouth. And if you do have to have close corridors conversation, say at loud bar, you can give them gum. But gum doesn't cover morning breath and gum can't be chewed while sleeping, and gum can't be chewed while making out.
I think that's it. I think the true power of love is almost a super power. Love has the ability to turn halitosis and regular body odor in flowers and moonbeams, or even better no scent at all.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Most of us who vote are pretty cynical. Politicians on both sides of the isle blatanly lie to us every year. It really rustles our feathers. We take it as a personal insult. But I think we need to cut these guys and gals some slack. These people seeking political office are very similar to us. And it's not because they drink beer or play basketball or read books, or whatever. It's because when they apply for a job they lie through their teeth just like you and I do.
I don't know how many times I've told an interviewer that "I am a self-starter, detail oriented, and can multi-task. Oh how I love to multi-task. There is nothing that thrills me more than to be focused on a task than to be interrupted to do something else and to be interrupted again to do yet a third thing, and then try to remember what the hell I was doing at the start." My other favorite line is that "I love working in an office because that's where my skills lie-- in administration-- and I feel a great deal of satisfaction putting those skills to use."
The HR diretor is much like the electorate. She or he wants to be lied to. She doesn't want to here me say, listen I have been given every opportunity to succeed in life and somehow I've fucked it up again and again now I need a job and the temp agency sent me here. I have no idea what you do and I don't care. And if you've done any research on me like read my very public blog you'll notice I don't know the first thing about orientating myself to details. And no, I can't spell. So if you hire me I plan to put as minimal effort in the tasks I'm asked to do so that I can read the NYtimes online and gchat with my friends. I am actually a pretty good typist, though."
No, you can't say that and nor can a politician say to us, "My fellow Americans I have major father issues and I desperately need to get his impossible approval by holding a high public office or besting him by holding high public office. Also I have some good friends who run huge corporations and they need someone in government to help them make more money. They're good guys we were in a frat together and man can they drink. It's a marvel to watch. Anyway, I'm better looking and more charismatic so they thought I should run for office and switch up some laws so there business is easier to run. These guys were at my wedding, so of course I'll do them solid. And let's face it I like other great politicians such as Harry Truman have failed at everything I've tried so I figured I'd either hide out in government or hide out in academia. So I hope I can count on your vote."
No politicians can't say that. So they talk about tax cuts and healthcare just like we talk about how we're punctual and a team player.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
We have a little over 300,000,000 people in this country. Approximately 28% of them are under 18 which gives you about 200,000,000 adults. If we pay all our adults $75,000 for the year that would cost $15 trillion, which is slightly more than the $700 billion we're paying a few banks and insurance companies who are evil, corrupt, and apparently incompotent. Then people could fix the mess many have gotten themselves into (though I'd say a smaller percentage of Americans have screwed up their finances than the percentage of financial institutions who have screwed up their financial situations). Americans would pay off their debts, thereby infusing banks and mortgage brokers with money, and at the same time keeping people in their homes and their cars. And if still the mamoth institutions went under, well, who cares? There would still be consumers instead of destitute, heartbroken, dejectected ready to riot populace.
I'm just saying.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
I thought yesterday, "Yeah, you're right random guy with a shovel in his bag. You don't get buried with your car. And sure enough I believe in taking vacations and not just working working working. Oh wait, I don't about that Jesus shit. Go back to the part about how we should take better care of ourselves and eat balanced meals instead of random pieces of bread here and there."
Am I a crazy subway person in the making? Don't answer that.
Monday, November 10, 2008
First, I let my will to live and soul shrivel up. It's funny but we forget that the sould does have some weight and if you can just let the job do it's job you won't have to worry about an overweight soul. It's pretty. For me I just stared at the stacks and stacks of non-sensical filing they assigned me and let the feel of defeat wash over me. Poof! My soul nearly invisible.
Second, I hunted for hairs on my chin and then tried to yank them from my face. Sure it's not running or push-ups or the stairmaster but your fingers and hands sure get a work out. Those little hairs are a lot tougher than they look.
Lastly, I would pick at anything on my body I could find. I usually settled on the piercings in my ears. I pick at those holes until they'd bleed. Rejuvenating damaged skin requires calories to be burned. And, it's never ending fun.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Anyone else pissed that the Green Party spoiled this election for Nader. I think Nader would have won if the Greens hadn’t siphoned votes away. Nader was against the $700 Billion bail out way before Mckinnley (The Green Party Candidate) I’d say hours before.
When old-time black people and old civil rights activist were asked if they believed they’d ever live to see the day of an African American or bi-racial person get elected President of the U.S. They all said, “No.” Not only did they not believe most of them did not envision this future either. I wonder if it was just enough that Oprah had read “The Secret” and was able to project this outcome for the rest of us.
Can someone explain to me how PBS and Jim Lehrer were able to call report the results of the election without phones ringing in the background, intern types scattered to the sides and behind him with laptops. Lehrer’s special election show and none of the frenetic energy that Couric or the ABC guy had on their shows. Don’t you need phones ringing off the hook and crazy ass graphics to report on a presidential election? PBS must use quiet witchcraft.
President Bush has invited Obama to the White House. If I were Obama I wouldn’t go. Especially if Cheney is going to be there. Barak, politely decline and then go into hiding for a few days.
We really have voted for change. For the first time we have an Ivy League educated man who has gone to Law School elected President. He’s the first one who has ever raised millions of dollars from all sorts of big businesses, lobbyists, and special interests. I think it’s all going to be so different now.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
I have a counter proposition. Why not just make Election Day a national holiday where we all get off from work and school. First off, there are people who work on Saturdays such as bankers, transit workers, bartenders, comedians, actors, rock and rollers, computer movers, illegal immigrants etc. Second, people who work merely weekdays aren’t going to waste their weekend voting. 9-5ers need to drink, be hung over, and do yard work on their weekends. Third, a complete national day off would allow those undecided voters to finally have time to research the candidates and make a choice. Life is hectic and we all love to procrastinate. If we had a day off from work we could get a good night’s rest (better to make a decision when rested), do our political homework that we didn’t do for the past year, and then go out and vote. There’d still be time for a beer to celebrate Democracy! And if we learned anything this election cycle. Real Americans love beer typically six packs of beer.
I say real real true Americans love a day off of work. A day off from work is freedom and America means freedom. Freedom means voting and voting can only happen if we have the first Tuesday off in November each year. If you don’t agree with me you’re obviously a facist.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
With less than a week before Election Day I would like urge you all to write in Tom Coughlin head coach of the New York Football Giants for President of the United States.
I'll just list reasons.
- He's a leader of men. OK a coach of men, but very similar.
- He believes in rules and discipline and if you don't follow those rules you don't get to play and you get fined. Just ask his lead wide receiver.
- He's a winner. Unlike other presidents who have been involved in professional sports Tom Coughlin has a winning record.
- He is a beacon of change. He took a ragtag team of millionares and six figure earners and made them Super Bowl Champions.
- He's so good at change he even changed himself. He took his frown and turned it upside down. He realized his players weren't responding to his dickish attitude he got a little friendlier. Not as placid as Obama but not as dickish as McCain.
- He has press conference experience. I'd say more so than any other candidate running.
- Though he has no experience as a Miltary general he is able to motivate men to tackle one another. And football is very much like war with strategies for battling over territory.
- He has gotten Black Americans and White Americans to work together. No other senator, govenor, or mayor can claim the same thing.
- He is a diplomat. He always compliments the opponents he faces. Never name calling. I bet he wouldn't stoop to calling the insurgents in Iraq cowardly terrorists. He'd say they are a fierce opponent and we're going to need to get pressure on their quarterback to have a chance to win this thing.
- His team's color is Red White and Blue. Mostly blue but more American than the Cowboys who's team colors do not include red. Yes, that's right the Dallas Cowboys want to be Greek.
- He knows you can only take it one game at a time and would never fight two wars at once. I bet he'd withdraw from the Iraq and Afghanstan so we could better focus our efforts on the real enemy--Dallas.
So please get out and vote on Tuesday. Vote for Tom Coughlin for president he's the only we can win with.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
Yes, I will have a religion that prohibits me working too many hours for the man and the man can't do anything about it because I have a right to practice my religion without discrimination. The Labor Movement really went about things the hard way.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
I think the NSA people do enjoy this blog. Despite their Hollywood depiction in movies Enemy of the State (where my beloved Gabriel Byrne has a brief role) I believe that people in the NSA are just like you and me. In the hours they're not trampling on our right to privacy (a right Justice Brandies wrote was enumerated in several other amendments 1,3,4,5, and 14) They want to know how to get a man to commit or what kind of gift to buy for the 90th birthday of relative. I'm sure they too have a crazy, best-friend, folks singer with unending love problems and a superhero like boyfriend. And if they don't they enjoy reading stories about such people.
So thank you NSA for giving me reason to keep on posting to this blog. Without you and your surveillance (a word I can’t spell without spell check) work I would have stopped posting long ago.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Cubicle in NYC
According to a MSN.com article scientist have found a chemical in Voles that may cause love sickness in said animals. Scientists think that the same chemical may also be found in humans after a break-up with a romantic partner causing the same love sickness in the primate. The report also proposed that a possible drug could be created to inhibit the “love sick” chemical from being produced.
In related news the music industry’s top studios formed a coalition to lobby for the prohibition of any such drug’s manufacturing and sale. The music industry that has been in a slump this past decade believes that the elimination of depression due to love would basically wipe them all out of business. “Not only would production of original recordings decrease sharply—possibly all together—who would buy any of our classic artists like Jeff Buckley if the populous doesn’t get to experience self-pity and heart wrenching emotional pain due to the rollercoaster ride we know as love?” Said an un-named music executive Rachael created out of thin air while reading online publications in her cube on Monday. T
The new music industry coalition named S.I.N,G. (Stop Interfering Now God Damn it!) has also pooled it’s executive resources to buy shares in poppy fields, coco farms, and marijuana brushes in a similar effort to keep Americans producing pop music and consuming pop music.
Answering the question why are you making up a news story she asked herself, Rachael replied, “Several reason. First I really don’t want to work on this stupid filing project they have me working on here. Second, I did read that article on the Vole and the possibility of drug – granted I didn’t finish the article—and the idea scared me. I was reminded of Brave New World’s soma. Third, I haven’t had an idea for my blog in a few days and this is the closest thing to a comedic idea I’ve had. If I don’t post my already dwindling bloggership will dwindle even further. And fourth, don’t you agree if there was no heart-ache there’d be a lot less art and a lot less for humans to commune with each other about.”
When asked what about hating your job? Isn’t there a lot of art and human communing done regarding the miseries of working? Rachael admitted, “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”
**FN equals fictitious news.
Monday, October 13, 2008
See back in the day Wall Street types would self medicate their depression away with good old fashioned cocaine. While high on coke these people would take bold risks with your money, sure. But then they’d come crashing down into a misery of paranoia. A paranoia that balanced out their brash investment strategies and greed.
Now all these people are on prescription meds that even it all out. Meaning they don’t feel guilt, or have anxiety. No anxiety about whether or not they’ll topple the world’s economy. There is no irrational fear that their clients will hunt them down in angry mob with pitch forks and torches for making horrible investment choices. Who can have crazy paranoid delusions when you’re on meds that keep you from having them? How can you feel bad for what you’ve done and what you’re doing when your serotonin levels are always even?
Sure the 1980s saw greed and a bit of market crash that led to a recession in America. But, thanks to cocaine and it’s horrible after effects we didn’t see the calamity we see today.
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
As the temperatures begin to drop an old threat rises out of the ashes of summer. The blanket thief. The blanket thieves steal warmth from sleeping innocents. Warmth desperately needed for a good night’s sleep and from staving off pneumonia. As we all know the cold lower’s our body’s defenses that fight off virus and bacteria when we’re left out in the cold by these villains, terrorists of the night, we lame vulnerable to disease like the flu or The Plague.
To counter the lies told by the blanket thieves such as, “I didn’t steal these blankets. You gave them to me in the middle of the night.” Set up a hidden camera in your bedroom with a night vision lens. (If you don’t have the night vision lens you’ll have to sleep with the light on otherwise your proof is really hard to make out. Also check the tape first before you play your secret video camera hand. These bastards are tricky and you’ve got to be a little detailed oriented to catch them.)
You can further protect yourself by tucking in your sheets and blankets nice and tight. This makes it difficult for them to deploy their tuck and roll maneuver where they tuck the blanket under a limb and then viciously and without mercy roll away from you leaving you exposed to the elements. Some blanket thieves are strong and you might revert to gluing your blankets to your bed frame or using a huge rubber band to fasten the bedding to the mattress. The rubber band my cut off circulation to certain body parts, but in war casualties will be suffered. Do not! Nail the blankets to the bed, the thieves will just rip blankets from the nails leaving your linen tattered and not on you.
Finally, propose that we enact tough legislation against these evil doers who want to freeze out our freedom. The only sensible thing to do is execute those convicted of this heinous crime. Or exile them to the equator where there are no blankets for them to steal and we can watch through secret cameras set up at the equator of these monsters going crazy without blankets to steal.
Be safe and god bless.
Friday, October 03, 2008
But hey I can't vote for either of these fools. I don't relate to them at all. These guys just don't speak to my indie-rock/80's movie referencing life-style. Are they going to assure me when they get into office they'll spend their work day illegally downloading music and quoting the Goonies.
I get it Sarah Palin is a woman, and I am a woman, but she has great hair. I waiting for the day a woman with horribly uncontrolable kinky, curly hair runs for office. That's the woman who will know my pain. Maybe she'll legislate against humidity.
Yeah, perhaps we don't need to relate to these people running for office. We're not electing a drinking buddy. We are hiring a president and vice president for our country. They won't be in the cube next to us 5 days a week listening in on our phone calls and bothering us with stories of their cats. They'll be far away in Washington hopefully being more competent than me.
Thursday, October 02, 2008
“Rachael, Rachael, I’ve been validated! I’m talented!”
My best friend Anna is a folk singer so I asked, “Did you get a record deal?”
“No, no better.”
“Have you been booked at the Newport Folk Festival?”
“No, shut-up. It’s not like that.”
“You’re going to be on TV?”
“Stop! No.” She paused for second. “TV? How is that validating there are 500 channels out there mostly filled with crap. No, it’s not that. It’s a true testament to my talent as a singer. Boys I once dated still check out my music. Dudes, who want nothing to do with me can’t get enough of my art. Some of them even disguise themselves so that I won’t know they’re watching.”
“This is your validation? Now you’re confident in your abilities as an artist? Not that other people seem to shut up and listen as you play?”
“Rachael, those strangers who shut-up and listen might just be being polite. But what other reason does a dude I had a one night stand with a year ago have to check out my music other than it fucking rocks.”
“My folk music rocks.”
“Wait a minute. Are you talking about that Gary guy who wound up being a tool?”
“Yeah, he’s one of them.”
“Didn’t you write a song about that night?”
“Didn’t he find out you wrote a not-so-flattering song about that night?’
“So maybe he’s checking out your stuff, on the down low, to see if you written anymore stuff about him.”
“What! That’s crazy. Why would I write anything else about him? It was one night a year ago. What would I possibly have to write a song about? A longing, pining, love song of me wanting to rekindle awkward making-out on a couch?”
“I’m just saying.”
“What you’re saying is stupid.”
“Well, you’re writing about it right now.’“No, Rachael, you are. This is your blog. I don’t have a blog. Besides he’s not the only one. I could have sworn I saw another dude from my dating past standing in the back of the music hall with a big hood over his head.”
“A big hood?”
“Yeah like a monk’s hood. I forget what you call those things.”
“And you’re sure this guy in the back wearing a cloak is someone you went out with?”
“I would know his posture anywhere. The point is I’m awesome!”
“The point is your work is very personal and these ego-maniacs are hoping you think of them and write about them still!”
“That’s stupid I haven’t dealt with these people in forever. It’s my music that draws them.”
“Fine. You’re very talented. You’ve been validated. Let's just hope they don't over hear you in this bar screaming about it, and get all self-conscious about being a fan and then you lose them from your fan base.”
“How would they hear me?"
"Maybe they're stalking you?"
"They're not stalking me they're just fans. Normal fans whom I've made-out with."
"Let's hope they don't read my blog in hopes to find out more about you and your music."
"Rachael, if they do we'll never know."
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
I can print documents and answer the phone at anytime of day say like 11am. Yes. Instead of 8-5pm I should be allowed to come in later like 11am. 11am is much more civilized. Start work at 11am. Worki 11am-3pm. 4 hours seems perfect.
Friday, September 26, 2008
I should have become an archeologist. Sure I’d still only be making 20K a year but at least it would have been intellectually engaging. You’re saying. “Rachael, it’s not too late go back to school become an archeologist.” Can I leave the bus stop that is my life and start walking to my destination? You know I’ve been waiting for this comedy/temping bus for a good 40 minutes. It’s hard to pull myself away from the bus stop, because now I have that feeling once I do the bus will come and I’ll be walking for two hours when I could have been on the bus for 35 minutes. My HBO special or extremely cushy office job is just running late and should be here any minute. And, well my feet are tired of standing for 40 minutes. To now have to walk on them for two hours. Oh god.
Let us pray that no-one here google searches me this weekend.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
I think the US economic system is amazing. Where else do the workers have to pay their employees money so that the workers keep jobs they don’t want to go to. Not only do we get people to show up to the hells of a cube, factory, or coal mine every day, we get people to invest in these companies that strip them of their humanity with money they need for food and housing. But they get a great return on their forced investment. More hours in a cube, factory or coal mine.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Meanwhile across the river in East Rutherford, NJ the NY Football Giants played their second home game to an average Cincinnati Bengals team. The Giants almost lost the game. Why? For one Eli wasn’t passing very well, but also there wasn’t much fan noise. In American football fan noise is essential in helping the home team win. The noise the fans create makes it difficult for the opposing team to hear each other’s communication wreaking havoc on their game plan and causing penalties. Is that the Giant’s fans are too hung over on a Sunday afternoon to yell, scream, cheer and stomp their feet? Or perhaps the complexion of the fan attending a Giants game has changed.
You see, The Giants and Jets are also building a new stadium right next to their old stadium. The new stadium is going to cost a pretty penny so to raise money the Giants and Jets have raised their prices considerably. First off, you have to pay a few thousand dollars just for the right to buy season tickets. Then tickets are like $100 +/ticket, add on to that a pricey (somewhere around $20-35) for a parking pass per game. Who the hell can afford to go to a game? Plenty of upper middle class and rich people. Now, I don’t have a problem with the upper middle class and rich on an individual basis. I’m not a bigot. Rich people can be just as big of dicks as poor people. However, it’s a known fact that rich people don’t yell in large groups. They only yell in board meetings and at their administrative assistants. Rich people aren’t going to make fools of themselves and be undignified in public they have too much to lose. Where as poor people are poor and all they have to loose is their debt.
Imagine the CEO of some corporation seen on national TV by some of his employees watching at home or at bar (far from ear shot of the visiting team) without his shirt on screaming his head off. Do you think that CEO is going to be respected by his underlings the next day? Mass financial chaos. Or what if a congressman was seen in body paint? People would lose total faith in the democratic process.
People we have a crisis. The economy is going to shit millions will be out of work. When this happened in Rome they gave the proletariat the Collesium and gladiator matches for an affordable fee. This distracted them from the misery and hunger that was their lives. No riots from the poor. In the modern error it’s all screwed up. How are the Giants going to win another Championship if the drunken, raucous, free-spirited, hooligan can not afford to go to the game?
Save professional sports and you save America!
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
I think maybe you should be a little more supportive.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Sara Palin would be a hypocrite if at one point sponsored legislation that demanded unwed teenage mothers be executed. And then when her daughter became one she pardoned her. But Sara Palin did not do that. Instead she raised her daughter in Alaska where men out number women a some number to one ensuring her daughter would not graduate high school a virgin. Now that's a mom.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
Thursday, August 21, 2008
And now for the post. Today my fiance, James, and I take our next step in our Spalding Grey tour. We are starting at the end of his life and working our way backwards. A couple of summers ago James and I took a ride on the Staten Island Ferry where Spalding chose to say good-bye to this cruel world. Next week we will head to Ireland where we, like Spalding, will be driving on Irish Country roads. We hope, however, we don't crash and break our hip and wind up in an Irish Hosipital leading us into a deep depression we won't be able to find our way out of. Because that would lead us right back to the Staten Island Ferry and that's not much of tour.
Monday, August 18, 2008
The Complex knows one thing. It knows that if people are left to their own devices they would be perfectly happy loafing about and occassionally going to the beach. This does not generate revenue. However, married people have to go out and do things. They have to go to events and go out to dinner. Married people have to infuse their marriage with interesting things otherwise it's just awkward. It's just two people loafing around, occassionally going to the beach, and blankly staring at each other. Nothing causes existential angst like having nothing to say. A person wouldn't realize they didn't have anything to say if they weren't married. To avoid existential angst people go out do things so they have something to talk about. "Yes, I prefer Burger King's burger to McDonald's, however, I find the McDonald chicken McNugget superior to Burger King's chicken Tender."
"Honey, I agree with you on the burgers but not so much on the chicken. For chicken fingers I think you have to go with Wendy's."
"Is it true that the Wendy's guy was adopted?"
"I believe so. But I think he's dead now."
And so it goes.
And thus, every one on the planet has been convinced by their respective cultures that marriage is a must. Non-capitalistic countries usually have arranged marriages because they don't need as much capital, while the rest of us are out there having the burden of finding our own marriage partner.
The non-arranged marriage is brilliant from the Complex's stand-point. All these single people are out there spending money going out trying to meet people to marry. And when single people aren't out on the prowl they're out pursuing hobbies to make themselves more interesting to a person they meet when out on the prowl. And the money keeps getting spent.
Eventually most people find someone to marry and after 7-25 years the marriage fails, the conversations become. "Are you fucking kidding me? You think Burger King has better burgers! If that's true than why is McDonalds the biggest burger company? You don't know shit you're so stupid!"
"I'm stupid, you friggin idiot? You're the one who just follows the herd like a lemming."
"Nice mixed metaphor!"
"At least I use poetic language."
And then they hire a divorce lawyer, and judges are paid and court clerks employed. Without marriage the Industrial Capitalistic Complex would fall.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
I see Kurt Russel playing the Pete Jackson, Pat Riley, or whomever the coach is of our underdog ragtag basketball USA basketball team, in the Disney produced movie. Maybe Hanna Montana could play the love interest.
The reason the Iranians don't have an Olympic softball team is because they have no lesbians in their country.
Who is scared that Phelps is going to be found out for doping?
Friday, August 08, 2008
Prior to the show I construct a 10 minute set that had no foul language, nor any sex, drugs, or murder references. What did I get for my efforts? I got heckled. The children heckled me. That's the thing a clean set doesn't mean a children appropriate set. Kid's don't know what longterm care insurance is. They don't know what temping is (oh but they will! It was arts camp full of aspiring performers) they don't know who harrison ford is. I'm 31 years old I have no idea what kids know. I know they and I don't have the same interest. So I was heckled. Which turned into me insulting the children. I said things like, "You must know about alcohol because your father drinks." The little fucker responded, "You've gone too far." I gave him my classic, "Did you buy me a drink? Then why are you talking to me?"
But the kids were too much for me. You see kids are like the White South African Apartaid government as portrayed in the 1990s movie Leathal Weapon II. Kids have diplomatic immunity. They can steal Cougarants, kill Mel Gibson's girlfriend, beat the shit out of Joe Pesci and you can't do anything to them because they're underage aka Diplomatic Immunity. These kids can park where ever they like or heckle me all night and I can't say shit. Literally. I can't use the word "shit" or I would get in trouble, but they can tell me I suck. I can't say "What did you step out of an 80s time machine with that hair cut?" And just like those Apartiad diplomats they know you can't touch them, so they keep pushing your buttons.
They only thing children should be allowed to participate in is karate. Karate is the great loophole to children's repercussions to being assholes. In karate if a kid acts up you can make the kid do push-ups or say, "OK. Glove-up." Which means it's time to spar and even if you're bigger than me kid I have the fact that I have gone through puberty and actually have muscle tone.
My point. I need a new agent.
Thursday, August 07, 2008
Shame on you Californians and Gulf Coast residents for harassing a very open and honest corporation.
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
I helped my foul mouthed father clean up the shards of what once was a flower decorated bowl.
My mother came and knew the bowl had been broken. How? I have no idea. I doubt my father would have mentioned it. I mean, he broke the bowl. And even if he was planning to frame for this bowl breaking incident I doubt he would have started by telling my mother. My father isn't one to tell my mother things. He buys TVs, cars, and other major purchases without telling her and just waits to see if she notices. Eventually, mom does notice and then my father denies the purchase. He'll claim that we've always had said car or TV. The only thing my father is fond of telling my mother is stories of his golf game and exagerated army stories from 40 years ago. So if my father didn't tell her how did she know. The only explanation I can come up with is that my mother comes home from work goes directly to the kitchen cabinet and counts the dishes, bowls, glasses and what not.
That day they were one short. Through an investigation my mother determined my father had caused the bowl to break, however, I was charged with one count of conspiracy to break the bowl and one count of accessory before the fact. Why? Because I had used the bowl and washed it. Yes, that's right this whole bowl fiasco was my fault because I didn't eat cereal and milk out of my hands.
"No." My mother said, "You don't have to eat out of your hands. What a mess that would make. You should have eaten out of the purple bowls in the other cabinet. I told you that."
It should be mentioned that I don't recall ever having been told about the purple bowl policy. Though, it seems over the years my mother has told me many things that apparently I don't remember. I told me mother, "I don't remember that."
"Well, I told you. This is why I don't want those flower decorated bowls used."
"If I had used the purple bowl there would have been a purple bowl broken."
"That would have been OK."
"I have a feeling that would not have been OK."
"The flower bowls are the good ones."
But I wasn't thinking "Fine." I was thinking why does she have bowls that arent' to be used. These bowls aren't even displayed in a china cabinet or anything. They are just in a kitchen cabinet not to be used. Why spend money on good China if you're not going to display it or more importantly use it for it's designed purpose?! I have no answer for this question. This is who my mother is. She's a crazy lady. A lady who once carpeted the staircase with carpet we were not allowed to walk-on. Going upstairs to bed everynight was a fete. I have known this woman over 31 years and she defies explanation.
She called me last week to let me know she had replaced the bowl. She lucked out while she was at TJ Max they had these flower bowls. Where it turns out she orginally bought the bowls. That's right the good china comes from a discount clothing store. I can only imagine where she bought the purple bowls.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
And you people hate today's elected officials. I'm sure you'll be grateful a decade from now.
I know I will when I thaw out the groceries I'm buying today and freezing for tomorrow.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Well, I can be extremely polite when the person declaring their love for me is my childless aunt/godmother who has a nice little house in Florida. "I love you so much Aunt Marrilyn. There is no need for you to take me out of your will. There is no one I love more. I think you're absolutely great. You're not just my favorite aunt I think you're my favorite person, ever." As any politician will tell you it's not always necessary to be 100% honest.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
"Yes," was his reply, "I hope you like it."
I gave a smile to my friend, but on the inside I whined, "Oh man! Clothes. That's no fun. I was hoping it was a bike or a piece of electronic equipment. At least a frisbee." Yes, I had the same reaction I had as a child when "Santa" would bring me boxes of clothes. I know that I'm not much taller than a child but I found quite amusing that my maturity hasn't grown much either.
I unwrapped the box to find a lovely black, knit sweater. Oncee the temperature drops I'm sure to wear it repeatedly. You know how us kids just wear our favorite shirt again and again and again until we out grow it or it disintergrates.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
I say, "No." However, if only one person shows up then the answer is yes. If there is one person versus not any persons then there is witness to your loserdom and therefore someone to judge you. Some might argue that you only need yourself to be present for the judgement. But I say you can lie to yourself.
Monday, July 07, 2008
I have to say my family thinks pretty high of themselves to think they're material worthy. I'll tell you this they haven't done anything joke worthy since they put a picture of a sonagram on a cake and asked us all to eat the cake. Sure visiting aunt came close to making the act when she got mad at her mother for claiming that her dog was not a person. My aunt fumed with indignation, and stormed off because the fact is her dog is a person. Sure that's ridiculous but is there a punchline to be found in that story? Is there a punchline to be found in the story that my aunt wouldn't admit to her age at a party full of people who are related to her some of who remember her birth.
You know what guys, if you want to be in this kid's act you better start actually putting effort in. I need more than not being able to properly classify species of animals. And no it's not enough to be an alcoholic these days. Alcoholism is so passe. May I suggest if you really want to be part of the act at the next family gathering you sit me down and give me some life advice. Or even better comedy career advice. Because telling me it doesn't matter if my romantic relationship works out, "We're just glad you brought him and shared your life with us a little," is just a little too supportive and loving. And there is nothing funny about that.
yeah, I know. the title isn'r really relevant to the content
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Hollywood start backing Republicans in a reverse psychology move to get red state voters to hate Republicans because you rich actor types are very annoying.
Monday, June 30, 2008
And another thing people. If you do leave a conversation with the Bathroom Execuse actually go to the bathroom.
Friday, June 27, 2008
I'd like to point out that most of the parking rules you have in this city are allowing the terrorists to win. How do you expect government surveillance vehicles to be able to uninterruptedly and non-conspicuously keep tabs on terrorist cells in this city if the government vehicles that contain government agents who are keeping America free and safe by watching all of us all of the time have to keep moving their vehicle to avoid parking tickets and towing. Sure, maybe you can give them immunity from NYC parking laws, but then their vehicles will stick out like a sore thumb. Terrorists will get wise, "Hey that vehicle has sat there for three weeks, never ticketed never towed. I smell something fishy." Next thing you know we're all no longer free and safe.
Blommy baby, get with it. Either you’re against parking rules or your with the terrorists.
A concerned freedom-loving citizen.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
And in other parental conditioning--
I purchased a burrito at a resturaunt the other day. I did not finish it. I then asked the waiter to wrap up the left overs. As I asked him to wrap it up I found myself trying to explain why I couldn't finish my meal. As if the waiter could give a shit. But I felt this guilt. Why? Because for years my parents would force me to finish my dinner. We'd sit at the kitchen table for hours night after night in a game of wills. I won a lot of those battles but, it seems that they won the war.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
I'm not going to lie to you. You're pretty much fucked. But I have two possible long shots for you to come up with the money for your ill-advised trip.
Option 1: Remember that dude you dated years ago? Like nearly 10 years ago? Remember how you thought maybe he was privie to a trust fund? Yeah. Good. Well, here's what you have to do. You have to go find him (and you're a stalker so it shouldn't be too difficult), break-up his marriage and get him to love you enough to send you abroad. He has the funds, and let's face it his wife doesn't really love him. She married him because her clock was ticking and he could support a child. Hell, Jesse said it all 10 years ago after you broke up and suspected he was dating someone else, "Who would date him? Uhhh. I mean... besides you."
Option 2: That crazy, baron, never-been-married sibling of your mom. That sibling unfortunately sees alot of you in him/her and that's why you're in the will. Hopefully you're still in the will and you didn't get written out recently due to your "charisma" aka argumentive, combative conversational style. Maybe, just maybe if you pray hard enough not only will you still be in the will, perhaps The Will will go into probate before your jet departs. Take that God awful diet your mom's elder sibbling ingests on a daily basis and push it over the edge into cardiac arrest by sending a lovely, extra-fat-added cheesecake.
Option 3: I guess you're going into debt.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Roommate: Can I borrow your car?
ME: Where are you going?
Roommate: Upstate New York.
ME: Where Upstate?
Roommate: I don't know. Somewhere up there.
ME: You don't know how far outside the city?
ME: Uh well, do you drive stick?
Roommate: Of course. I learned once. I had trouble with reverse, but I can do it now. Anyway we'll be going forward so I won't need reverse.
ME: Uh. When do you need the car?
Roommate: July 4th.
ME: Oh sorry I have to go to bbq in Connecticut on the 5th.
Roommate: I'll have it back by then.
Roommate: Your car fits 7 right?
ME: No. It seats four, maybe five. if you all are short and skinny.
Roommate: Some people will sit on laps. Oh. And if you have a permit all you need is a liscenced driver right.
ME: The liscenced driver has to have had their liscence for three years. Wait! You don't have a liscence?
ME: You know, I'm going to say that you can't borrow my car, which isn't really mine anyway. No. No you can't. If you did and anything happened I'd tell the cops you stole my car. Yeah, so. No. Maybe you all should just rent a car.
Roommate: How much do you think that's going to be?
ME: I don't really know. I'm going to say cheaper than fixing mine after you total it driving in reverse in some yet to be determined town somewhere in the State of New York.
Rooommate: Hmmm. Really? Come on.
ME: I got to go to bed.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Here is what I know about why we have the sexual mores we have today. Namely, that women who sleep around are slutty whores who should be stoned to death, while women who marry get a big party and our showered with gifts.
These long held traditions of stoning the sluts and showering the married can be traced back to ancient times—back to the Fertile Crescent and Mesopotamia. They ancient Mesopotamians didn’t want women having sex so that the ruling class could control common men. Before the birth of western civilization men and women walked around in fur hides smashing things with clubs. Then one-day things changed and coal needed to be mined. Obviously no one wanted to mine coal. What horrible past time. Coalmines are cold, damp, dark (dark another word for very scary), and full of emphysema causing air. Why would you mine coal when you could just walk around in the sunshine with a club and speak and hit stuff? So the men were like, “You know what Western Civ dudes, we’re not mining coal. It’s stupid.” But the dudes who desperately wanted coal mined were a determined bunch. They yelled and screamed and then threw a tantrum. The other regular dudes were like, “Forget you guys and you mines will go live in the woods over on the other side of the hill and eat leafy vegetables, berries and some venison. See you later suckers.” The coal mine owners would not be thwarted, “Oh yeah we’ll take our clubs and spears and hit you in the face with them.”
“Helloooo. We have clubs and spears too.”
“Ahhh foiled again.”
But the coal mine owners weren’t going to take this supine. There were coal in ‘dem mines and by god those other dudes were going to get the coal out of that mine. They came up with a plan. The coal miners decided they’d put the spears and clubs in the faces of the women. The women were smaller and though some of them were scrappy they fought too much amongst themselves to realize they could kick the ass of a handful of spear and club bandiers. The women conceded and said, “Fine, we’ll mine your coal.”
“No. You won’t be mining our coal. You ladies are too small you can’t reach the coal at the top of the mine walls. Instead you are forbidden to have sex with any man who isn’t mining coal.”
“Wow, you coal mine owners, suck.”
“Not only that you can only sleep with one coal miner in your life time. If you don’t you’ll be banished to the sea.”
“The sea? Really?”
“For now. Yes, later on we’ll just socialize and/or ostracize you.”
“This new system has just begun and we already miss the old days of a short life expectancy and forest dwelling.”
And so the coal mine owners told the other men if they ever wanted to fornicate again they’d have to mine coal. Some men rebelled and wound up taking up with sheep and what not, but most guys couldn’t handle the fierce kicks to the gut, knees and inner thighs.
In the end there was lots of coal, even more drinking and long miserable lives.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
It's too bad we don't have any actual parties that can pinch hit from the bench in this country.
Monday, June 09, 2008
I know that in some households the father is the disciplinarian, but that usually means he's the spanker or belt whipper of the children. But these kids who eventually grow-up to be voters will also vote male because if it wasn't for their mothers informing their fathers' of their bad behavior no one would have gotten spanked. If mom could have just kept her mouth closed regarding your abstract crayola wall mural 33 years ago no blood would have been shed.
"But, Rachael, the Brits elect women. And they're not so terribly different than us." Yes, it's true that the Brits speak English like we do and they pay their women less money than men on average, but they also don't raise their children. People in England send their kids away to boarding school at a very young age. So all they know of both mummy and daddy is that they've shoved their parental duties on to educations institutions. And that is why you never see a school master elected to Prime Minister over their.
So inconclusion. Women will never be elected president until men start doing most of the raising of this nation's children. I hope for a world where men and women equally share the parental duties and then no one is elected.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
**There is one major STD that they never discuss in high school health class--the common cold. There is no prophylactic for that one.
**My boyfriend Jack and I have decided that I should consider going on hormonal birthcontrol. Our previous method of birthcontrol, abortion, has just become too expensive. Did you know they make "the pill" in chewable form? It's great this way all those grade schoolers having sex these days have real birthcontrol options. Unfortunately, the pills aren't in the shape of any fun cartoon characters.
**My friend Julien Marques was asked how much he loved America. He answered, "Enough to sleep with America. I don't know if I'd call the next day."
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Now here's the interesting part (to me anyway.) Last night prior to my set a comedian got on stage and made some joke that began with "When women find out I'm engaged they all ask the same question, 'How did you propose?'" Note that he contorted his voice to be dreamy and yet idiotic to portray the women's question. I found it interesting that no one in the audience looked at us two token females to see if we were laughing (which we weren't) to see if it was OK for them to laugh. How is it that we are scared of showing ourselves to be racists but not masogynists? Is it because black people won't sleep with a racist but women will sleep with anyone?
I didn't like the joke because I as a women didn't care how this dude proposed to his girlfriend. All I could think about when he said he was engaged was, "Who the fuck agreed to marry him? Really? He's going to get married and I'm alone? You've got to be kidding me."
Tomorrow tune back in when I explain why a woman can't be president.
Monday, June 02, 2008
Girlfriend: You burned up your wife and kids for? Sheesh. That's a little much.
Boyfriend: Well, you said you needed to know that I cared about you. Not just me saying so.
Girlfriend: Yeah...Well... I meant like answer my emails in a timely fashion and be excited to see me.
Boyfriend: Now you tell me. (exasperated.) I was just trying to do something nice.
Girlfriend: (Yielding) Alright. Thank you. It was very thoughtful. I wasn't really ready for this kind of committment, but I guess here we are.
Boyfriend: Are you kidding me? Jesus Christ! You know I actually kind of liked my family. This wasn't some cavelier jesture.
Girlfriend: No, it's fine. I said thank you. But can I just suggest that if during the coarse of our relationship you wind up meeting someone you like better than me, and she wants some proof of your affection, maybe you could just break-up with me or get her some flowers.
Boyfriend: Flowers? Really? That's a little cliche and any schlub could by flowers.
Girlfriend: Get creative carve some flowers out of chocolate.
Boyfriend: Great. So what you're saying is you would have prefered chocolate flowers. I just can't do anything right.
Girlfriend: You're so over dramatic. I didn't say that. I'm just asking you a favor for the future.
Boyfriend. OK. Fine. (Pause) So we're going steady now?
Girlfriend: Of course. A man burns his family for you you go steady with him. What am I not polite?
Saturday, May 31, 2008
As a fan of the show I have accepted a long time ago that this show represents a completely different aspect of New York City life than I have ever or probably will ever live. That being stated I take exception with the notion (that the movie presents in its opening) that people move to New York City to find love. There maybe people who by $500 shoes, and there maybe people who actually can afford to live in Manhattan or people who enjoy fashion shows. Fine. But no one has ever moved to New York City in hopes to find love that's like saying people move to New York City for the real-estate, or for the clean air.. That's what Paris is for. Perhaps even Paris, Texas. People move to New York to make money or to be gay or both. OK sure sometimes people have moved to New York City to escape famine. And sometimes they've been kidnapped and sold into the sex trade or into sweatshops. But never for love.
Who has time to look for love when you spend 60 hours a week working to make rent and then another 20 hours pursuing your pipe dream and then another 20 hours trying to fit in all the culture that New York has to offer? Most of which you actually don't have an interest in but you feel guilty for living here working your ass off to afford to live here and not take advantage of the fact that you have the opportunity to see Ukranian experimental rock ballet. I mean you can't find see that shit in Nebraska. And more importantly, you better see the Ukranian experimental rock ballet just in case you randomly meet a rich Ukranian who has the means to fund your latest venture capital deal or film. You're going to need something to talk to him about so you can woo his money from him. With all that to do there is no time to look for love or to even go on regular dates. And people who do find themselves married and in New York can frequently be heard saying, "Oh but we never see each other. We're both so busy."
If you want to be a star or a career financial baron you move to New York. If you want to find love and you're a woman, you move to Juno, Alaska where rugged men and criminals men on the lamb out number women 720 to one (give or take.).
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
My mother once said to me with forlorning in her voice, "Why can't you believe that person likes you?" My answer, "Because that person hasn't made me the center of that person's world. Where are the alters? Where are the golden statues made in my image?"
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Sara asked: To what extent does a candidate's stance on abortion affect your opinion of him/her? Why?
If a candidate is anti-choice and/or wants to sign off on legislation that restricts a person's right to choose I don't see myself voting for that candidate. However, it doesn't make me a one issue voter. Usually candidates that are pro-choice agree with me on other issues. It's not like someone is going to be Pro-Choice and then be for killing all the manatees.
I am pro-choice for two main reasons I don't want children and I hate condoms. Condoms chafe and they're made in Southeast Asia, meaning condoms probably made in sweatshops by children. I can't support child labor. Meanwhile, I don't think I could be on the birthcontrol pill because I can't swallow pills. However, even if birth control came in liquid like children's advil I have a fear of taking hormones--how much crazier can I afford to get? The best idea to avoid pregnancy is to sleep with men who don't cum. Whether it's a Budhist Tantric thing, Catholic guilt thing, or an anti-depressant thing it's probably a girl's best bet. (Yes, that's right it's not just women who have problems with orgasming) Though, that isn't always an option or sometimes one of the non-ejaculating dudes might surprise you and himself. I hope "the state" doesn't compound that oopsy by making me have a baby for three reasons. I don't have money to raise one, I'm very self involved and the world is going to shit. Why should I bring a child into a polluted, melting pot on the verge of nuclear anhilation? Some people will argue that if I'm not ready for a baby then I shouldn't be having sex. That would only be true if abortion didn't exist. Right? I'll never be ready for a baby but I should have sex. WebMD said there were at least 10 health benefits to having sex. A baby was not listened among those benefits. People who are not having sex or seeking to have sex come in two types: religious zealots or a people with a gun in their mouthes.
So why do I believe in abortion rights because I think irresponsible, broke-ass artists should be allowed to have sex just like the bourgeois, but without ruining a life by birthing it unlike the bourgeois.
Yeah mabye I shouldn't play church groups.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Lincoln Tunnel. Then we all think, "Oh my God, that's what they were talking about on the news in the opening, seemingly innocuous, scene." Well, it's on those mornings while I'm innocently brushing my teeth and NPR is giving me the early morning run down of world disasters that happened over night that I expect there to be a riot by noon. Or a plague by 2pm. It hasn't happened yet. I guess it's a lot harder to get out or working than they portray it the films.
Friday, May 16, 2008
If you are having sex with your friend that means you are dating. Just because you go dutch when you're at the bar or you are sleeping with people other people who are not your friend but are less than friends/more than acquantances doesn't make you not dating your friend. It makes you either a) polyamorous or b)cheating on the person you are dating.
And that's today's lesson.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
My cousin responded, "I don't know what you're talking about." And neither do my friends.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Hey I have to tell you that Rick Springfield is not from NJ. I know it wasn't your idea orginally to suggest such a thing it was in fact your mother's idea. I think she Rick Springfield with Bruce Springstein. Props to your 91 year old mother for even knowing who Bruce Springstein is. Unfortunately, you are both wrong. When grandma suggested it just a moment ago and then you supported her statement it sounded wrong to me. So I looked it up on allmusic.com on my "smart phone." Turns out Rick is from Australia. This was a shock to me as well. Now, I didn't want to correct you but your son Stephen told me I had to. I thought there was no harm in letting you guys think what you will of the eighties pop star, because let's face it you both won't remember ever having said it, but your son Stephen. Well, your prized child is such a perfectionist, as gay men tend to be, that he felt you should be properly informed on your 80s pop culture. He said, "You never know when Mom or Grandma might be selected to be on a game show or hail the Cash Cab." Oh did you not know your favorite child was gay? I hope that isn't upsetting news. I mean I'm engaged and everything because I just want you to be happy that's why I didn't want to press this Rick Springfield issue. It was all Stephen's idea. Why you have to win a game show for him to love you I'll never know. I love you for who you are incorrect trivia knowledge and all. I told Stephen I wasn't going to put the info in about Rick Springfield. That it was stupid to include on a mother's day card. But then he gave me an indian burn. Yes, this 35 year old man gave me an indian burn and when I still wouldn't comply he began flicking lit cigarette butts at me. I had no choice. That's right Stephen Smokes. The whole ordeal has just proven Stephen right in his politics. Apparently, he was right to believe that torture is an effective method of intergation or in this case getting his younger, real-live sister to do his bidding; and, that congresss is just made -up of a bunch of pussies. His word not mine, mom.
So Happy Mother's Day Mom, from your engaged daughter on her way to a fruitfull career in greeting cards and your gay, torture-loving, cigarette smoking son.
I think this might be a top selling card next year.
Friday, May 09, 2008
I know what’s wrong with America. We’re a country of immigrants. You’re thinking, “Yeah. We rock! Immigrants, man. Immigrants are entrepreneurial. They’re go-getters. They are hard working, pull yourself up by your boot-straps, salt of the earth people.” Sure, I guess. But you know what they also are? Outcasts. The USA is full of people who descend from outcasts and weirdoes who are so strange and off putting that they couldn't merely move to the next village, region or even a neighboring country. They had to leave an entire continent and put an ocean between themselves and their homeland. For example, why didn’t the Irish just go to Scotland? I’ve never heard of the Scottish potato famine. Instead they journeyed for 3 months on leaky, disease-ridden boats to a place where the sun actually shines and in a time before the advent of sunscreen.
We got the freaks of the entire world melting in this pot—from Asia to Europe to Australia. What kind of degenerate gambler do you have to be to leave your birthplace to take a chance in place you know nothing about, you probably don’t speak the language, you don’t have any friends or family there. But fuck it you’re just going to roll the dice of life and hope you blew on them correctly.
Even the founders of this nation had no forethought. Everyone in England hated the puritans, the inventors of hall monitoring, because they were a buzz kill and self-righteous lot. So instead of trying to bend like a tree in the wind these iconoclasts sail to a continent that had no housing or plumbing. Who does that? Who decides to go camping for the rest of their lives? The Unabomber that’s who. And of course the Unabomber is from here. He was probably related to the pilgrims.
We are a nation of people who either abandoned their families for their own selfish, sociopathic needs or people who were so awful they were run not just out of town, but off a continent. Either way we’re blowing things up just like those kids in high school who don’t seem to fit in.
We the people of the United States are descendants from crazy, degenerate gambling, iconoclasts, who had no emotional ties to their friends and family. No wonder so many of our people don't believe in evolution. Who wants to think of we are made up of that genetic material. It's probably just best to believe genetic material doesn't exist. And that's my point. I'm not made for this environment. I'm allergic to it. Someone please hand me another tissue.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
After flying to Orlando and back I would like to suggest something to American airports to speed up the airport security lines. Airport security should profile. If the passengers are American born and bread and are under the age of 40 let them go through security unchecked. Do not make us remove our shoes or put our bags through a screener. Why? Because my generation's apathy runs deep. We aren't so much from the school of "doers." Unless you're talking about video games, weed, and booze. In all honesty we are lucky we were able to get our act together to book our plane ticket. Not only did we have to committ to a social engagement such as vacation we had to have room on our almost maxxed out credit cards. Making us take off our shoes is ridiculous. First off, it's a taxxing physical and emotional burden for the younger people of this nation. Secondly, we didn't make a shoe bomb. There is no way we were going to rip ourselves away from "Rock of Love" long enough to learn mini explosives. The liquids in our toiletry bag are completely harmless, well if you're not counting the cancer they cause (but that's not our fault we didn't invent the stuff), we never paid attention in chemistry class. My generation and the ones that have failed again and again on standardized science tests. If you want to confiscate someone's shampoo try that european dude or that 5 year old Japanese child. But for the love of god, just let us get to our gate unempeded we have 5000 songs on our ipod and they are not going to listen to themselves.
Friday, May 02, 2008
Vacationing at retirement village is much like camping. Once the sun goes down the forest closes up shop.
Because I'm obviously tapped out of ideas. Enjoy someone else's art. The Flaming Lips singing their song "Do You Realize?" I believe one of the lines in the song is "Do you realize everyone you know someday will die." It seems kind of fitting for where I am right now. :)