So the other day, I was watching Access Hollywood (you tell me what else is on at 6:30 that is NOT Wheel of Fortune) and they had a story about Whitney Houston on. In case you've been under a rock for the last 15-20 years, Whitney Houston has a slight issue with recreational narcotics. . . and it kinda shows. Especially when you compare present Whitney with Whitney circa 1980. Yes, I know she's older but we can't completely blame her deterioration on the ravages of time. . . and even if we could, "ravage" wouldn't be anywhere near an apt term. "Ravage" is almost too polite. I mean, if we could blame all that on aging it would be more akin to the sacking of Rome.
Same issue with Lindsey Lohan. She used to be very cute with the red har and her little freckles. Now she's on the fast train to Courtney Love-Ville. We all know what happened with Whitney (*cough, cough* Bobby Brown *cough*), but what is Lindsay Lohan's malfunction? How did Lindsey go from The Parent Trap remake to community service at the morgue? Somewhere in there, things went wrong; horribly wrong, just as has happened a thousand times before with other kids. The thing of it that blows my mind is: how can people possibly look at someone that is high, like seriously fucked-up high, and think: "this is the thing for ME to do"?
I think most people in America have seen a crackhead before. And if not a crackhead, then a meth head, a coke head, a heroin addict. . . Unfortunately, drugs are everywhere. Coming face to face with them and the people that use them are almost a certainty. Some people are sneaky and able hide that they have a problem for a long time. It's when they get too strung out to care about keeping it a secret, that we see them skulking around streets asking people for spare change. Some pity them. Some despise them. We all recognize them. And yet this country and many others continue to have a persistent drug problem.
I understand that some people are at greater risk for these types of things due to their life circumstances and the need for escapism. Hell, there have been a few days when the clock has barely struck 10am and I find myself thinking I could use a drink. Some days are just like that. But who the hell looks at a meth addict and thinks "I, too, would like to have my teeth rot out of my head before the age of 30?"
These are hard drugs. There is no doing crack one time then quitting tomorrow. And these folks know this. You can't not have drug awareness classes in school now, not if you don't want a nation of Tyrone Biggums. So what's the problem here?
I'll tell you what the problem is: peer pressure. Half the dumb shit most people do is on advice from other people that do dumb shit. The human is a social animal. We have a need to be accepted and sometimes we will go to great lengths to accomplish that. Sadly, this craving seems to have a nasty habit of handicapping our common sense. Like when people go out and buy a $500 of jeans because all the "cool" people have a $500 pair of jeans. Did that pair of jeans make your life better? No. It's fucking pants. Their primary purpose is to keep your legs warm/protect your skin. If those two needs are being served, it really doesn't matter how much they cost. Personally, the only way I'd pay that much money for pants is if they gave me super powers.
But back to drugs. People influence other people to try drugs. They make it sound seductive, wonderful, an altered state of consciousness where you'll see the world as you've never seen it before. . . Ok. I get that. It does sound kind of appealing. But let's take this scenario: you're at a party, just hanging out with your friends. One friend goes "hey, I got this meth. You wanna try it?" Your friend is not a drug dealer, not trying to make money off you. Just trying to share the wealth. They tell you they've been doing it for a while. It's great! Now, you're pretty cool with this friend, but somewhere in the back of your mind, you're thinking they look like shit. But all your other friends are doing it. You don't want to be left out. So what do you do? How did you get trapped in this ABC afterschool special (dating myself, I know)?
The answer may seem obvious, but the horrible part is that it isn't to everyone. This is where I get lost. I wouldn't let a meth addict suggest a new brand of toilet paper for me to use let alone a recreational drug. So why the hell would anyone else? You have somebody that looks like the crypt keeper telling you "You should use this drug. I use this drug. It's awesome". I would think it would be apparent that this individual's decision-making skills are a little impaired.
Who the hell was Lindsey Lohan hanging out with to get her into this stuff? I hear the free drugs flow like water in Hollywood, but people have to think about the fact the sometimes drug dealers need to do promotions just like any other salesmen. How do you rope in new clients? Free samples. People have to ask themselves: if you had never tried cocaine and it wasn't free, would you even want it?
Scenario 2: you're at a glamorous Hollywood affair. D-bag drug dealer says "hey, I got this heroine. Only $50 dollars (or whatever the hell heroine costs). You think: $50 dollars?! No, thanks. You start to walk away. D-bag drug dealer goes "Hey wait! Since it's you, I'll let you have the first batch for free." What do you do?
Again, answer seem sobvious. But what did Lindsey do? She thought "well, since it's free. . . ." Who gives a shit if it's free? It's heroine. And there's probably some supermodel vomiting all over herself in the corner because of it! But once again, people wanna be in the "in" crowd, the "it" crowd or whatever buzz word they're using these days for the more prominent sheeple.
I don't care if it gets you on the cover of People magazine, rehab is not cool. That saying "Even bad publicity is good publicity" is bullshit. And what are you publizing anyway, that you're too stupid to think for yourself? Yeah, that's definitely something you want to be common knowledge.
And anyway, getting arrested and having your mugshot on Entertainment Tonight is where it's at now.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Splenda Does NOT Taste Like Sugar
In my ongoing quest for fitness, I have made a few concessions to my diet in the last few years. I have started to eat more fruit and green vegetables. I am gravitating more towards lean meats and fish (both baked and grilled). I eat fat-free when I can stand it (fat is what makes things taste good. Eating some fat-free foods is like eating paper i.e. completely tasteless; but this varies from food to food) and reduced fat in other circumstances.
I almost completely cut out soda some years ago, which was much harder than it sounds. Going cold turkey from soda is like going cold turkey from crack. Somehow I managed. It was either that or switch to diet soda which was a no-go. Why? Because of the artificial sweeteners and their horrible taste. . . and the fact that they allegedly rot your insides like Draino. But mostly because of the taste.
Everyone knows Splenda, right? It's the fako sugar in the yellow packet and box. Anyway, there was this commercial a few years ago that expounded upon the wonders of Splenda by explaining how Splenda starts with sugar, tastes like sugar but it's NOT sugar. Then of course is your requisite scene with a couple of kids running into mom's kitchen to a tray of homemade cookies that are, supposedly, made with Splenda.
So the camera cuts to the little girl biting into a cookie and the look on her face plainly says "This cookie tastes like shit". Now, this makes sense because practically anything made with Splenda tastes like shit. Why? Because Splenda does NOT taste like sugar.
Now obviously, I'm not a fan of the fako sugar. There is absolutely nothing like the real thing. Yes, I know it's not good for you in large quantities, but neither is sunlight. That hasn't stopped people from going outside, though. A good old fashioned treat made with real sugar is not gonna hurt you every once in a while unless you're a diabetic. In which case, you're kinda stuck with whatever doesn't make you go hyperglycemic. Otherwise, there is no need to cheapen a perfectly good baked good with Splenda, Equal or any other gross sugar substitute. It makes baby Jesus cry.
Artificial sweeteners have a palpable aftertaste and it is not a good one. And there isn't any appropriate way to describe it either. It's kind of like that just-brushed-your-teeth aftertaste except that one has hints of flavors you can describe, like mint.What's the aftertaste of Splenda? Some miscellaneous chemical that I can't spell.
And the real kicker to Splenda and other no-cal sweeteners is that they DO have calories. The company just screws with the serving size and packing to get it under the guideline of what the FDA defines as a no-calorie food. So if you stand there and put 10 packets of Splenda in your coffee, you may as well have just put half as many packs of sugar in. It's almost the same thing.
Splenda, in particular, is mostly made by chlorinating regular sugar. Mmm. . . . chlorine. . . .*drools*. Why don't I just go ahead and put bleach in my cereal?
I suppose I understand the logic of fako sugar, but wouldn't it be easier to just practice moderation with sweets? That way, when you let yourself have one, it's even better because you made yourself wait. If you go around devouring plates of oatmeal raisins like a flesh-colored cookie monster, I think you have bigger problems than a little sugar anyway.
Now I know that some people will swear up and down that you can make yummy treats with artificial sugar and it will be far better for you than anything made with refined white sugar. To some people, refined sugar is like the satanic spawn of meth and heroin sprinkled with the ashes of unbaptized babies. Granted, it's bad. Still, if I'm going to sabotage my health, I'd rather do it with something that doesn't taste like diluted White Out. But that's just me.
Of course, if anyone would like to prove me wrong, feel free to whip up your finest baked goods and forward them on. I promise to let you know whether or not they ended up in the garbage.
I almost completely cut out soda some years ago, which was much harder than it sounds. Going cold turkey from soda is like going cold turkey from crack. Somehow I managed. It was either that or switch to diet soda which was a no-go. Why? Because of the artificial sweeteners and their horrible taste. . . and the fact that they allegedly rot your insides like Draino. But mostly because of the taste.
Everyone knows Splenda, right? It's the fako sugar in the yellow packet and box. Anyway, there was this commercial a few years ago that expounded upon the wonders of Splenda by explaining how Splenda starts with sugar, tastes like sugar but it's NOT sugar. Then of course is your requisite scene with a couple of kids running into mom's kitchen to a tray of homemade cookies that are, supposedly, made with Splenda.
So the camera cuts to the little girl biting into a cookie and the look on her face plainly says "This cookie tastes like shit". Now, this makes sense because practically anything made with Splenda tastes like shit. Why? Because Splenda does NOT taste like sugar.
Now obviously, I'm not a fan of the fako sugar. There is absolutely nothing like the real thing. Yes, I know it's not good for you in large quantities, but neither is sunlight. That hasn't stopped people from going outside, though. A good old fashioned treat made with real sugar is not gonna hurt you every once in a while unless you're a diabetic. In which case, you're kinda stuck with whatever doesn't make you go hyperglycemic. Otherwise, there is no need to cheapen a perfectly good baked good with Splenda, Equal or any other gross sugar substitute. It makes baby Jesus cry.
Artificial sweeteners have a palpable aftertaste and it is not a good one. And there isn't any appropriate way to describe it either. It's kind of like that just-brushed-your-teeth aftertaste except that one has hints of flavors you can describe, like mint.What's the aftertaste of Splenda? Some miscellaneous chemical that I can't spell.
And the real kicker to Splenda and other no-cal sweeteners is that they DO have calories. The company just screws with the serving size and packing to get it under the guideline of what the FDA defines as a no-calorie food. So if you stand there and put 10 packets of Splenda in your coffee, you may as well have just put half as many packs of sugar in. It's almost the same thing.
Splenda, in particular, is mostly made by chlorinating regular sugar. Mmm. . . . chlorine. . . .*drools*. Why don't I just go ahead and put bleach in my cereal?
I suppose I understand the logic of fako sugar, but wouldn't it be easier to just practice moderation with sweets? That way, when you let yourself have one, it's even better because you made yourself wait. If you go around devouring plates of oatmeal raisins like a flesh-colored cookie monster, I think you have bigger problems than a little sugar anyway.
Now I know that some people will swear up and down that you can make yummy treats with artificial sugar and it will be far better for you than anything made with refined white sugar. To some people, refined sugar is like the satanic spawn of meth and heroin sprinkled with the ashes of unbaptized babies. Granted, it's bad. Still, if I'm going to sabotage my health, I'd rather do it with something that doesn't taste like diluted White Out. But that's just me.
Of course, if anyone would like to prove me wrong, feel free to whip up your finest baked goods and forward them on. I promise to let you know whether or not they ended up in the garbage.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
So Does Ken Have a Job or What?
So while I was working on the girly girl blog, I really got to thinking about this whole Barbie doll phenomenon. As much as I've never cared for them, I know that the company has tried to use Barbie (to some extent) as a positive role model for little girls by giving her all these different careers that she apparently engages in while wearing an evening gown and high heels. Because, you know, real women do that. We also fight crime in a thong and pasties just like in the comic books.
Anyway, Barbie has it all; a career (several, actually), a Corvette, a Porsche, an RV, a condo, a stable full of horses, a dream house and the man of her dreams, Ken. Sounds great, right? It's what all women want, right? Not so fast.
While Barbie is out being a doctor/lawyer/veterinarian/astronaut/managingadairyqueen (yep, Barbie has an ice cream shop playset), what the fuck is Ken doing? Think about it. How many themed Barbies have there been? Yeah, they come out with a matching themed Ken, but he's always just a tag-a-long. If Barbie lives in Malibu, then Ken lives in Malibu too. But who's paying for the dream house in Malibu? Where the hell is astronaut Ken? While Barbie is in space saving animals, what is Ken doing? Is he just chillin' at the dream house sleeping til 10 every morning and then strolling on down to the beach to work on his tan?
Ken, apparently, does not have a job.
Now, if we go ahead and run with the idea that Barbie is supposed to be a positive role model for little girls, what sort of message is this sending? That you should work yourself ragged while some deadbeat with six-pack abs drives other bitches around in your Porsche?
Come to think of it, that' s probably why you never see Ken driving Barbie's car in the commercials. He's always riding shotgun. I bet Ken was borrowing Barbie's car to "look for a job" then one day, Barbie found some panties in the glove compartment that weren't hers.
There's probably an episode of Cheaters floating around somewhere with black and white footage of Ken out on a date with some other broad while Barbie is around the corner in a van with the host. Then Barbie runs up to confront Ken and . . well. . . You've all seen the show. And if you haven't, you're missing the finest trash television.
But just in case you really haven't seen Cheaters, a fight over or with the cheating partner usually ensues. I'm sure Ken fell in line after that. I mean, Barbie looks like she'll cut a bitch.
And if, in fact, Ken does not have a job, I think we have an explanation for the demographic of women that thinks supporting a leech of a boyfriend is a valid life plan. Don't get me wrong. I understand times are tough, but Ken should at least try and get a little side hustle going or pull his weight around the dream house. Where is Stay-At-Home-Dad Ken (After all, Skipper is obviously Ken and Barbie's illegitimate daughter. Little sister, my ass)? Bootleg DVD Ken? Bottle-of-Windex-and-Some-Paper-Towels-by-the-Freeway-Off-Ramp Ken?
Hopefully, Barbie's kept her options open. There's a thousand other Kens out there and Barbie is a millionaire. She can buy any one of them that she wants.
Anyway, Barbie has it all; a career (several, actually), a Corvette, a Porsche, an RV, a condo, a stable full of horses, a dream house and the man of her dreams, Ken. Sounds great, right? It's what all women want, right? Not so fast.
While Barbie is out being a doctor/lawyer/veterinarian/astronaut/managingadairyqueen (yep, Barbie has an ice cream shop playset), what the fuck is Ken doing? Think about it. How many themed Barbies have there been? Yeah, they come out with a matching themed Ken, but he's always just a tag-a-long. If Barbie lives in Malibu, then Ken lives in Malibu too. But who's paying for the dream house in Malibu? Where the hell is astronaut Ken? While Barbie is in space saving animals, what is Ken doing? Is he just chillin' at the dream house sleeping til 10 every morning and then strolling on down to the beach to work on his tan?
Ken, apparently, does not have a job.
Now, if we go ahead and run with the idea that Barbie is supposed to be a positive role model for little girls, what sort of message is this sending? That you should work yourself ragged while some deadbeat with six-pack abs drives other bitches around in your Porsche?
Come to think of it, that' s probably why you never see Ken driving Barbie's car in the commercials. He's always riding shotgun. I bet Ken was borrowing Barbie's car to "look for a job" then one day, Barbie found some panties in the glove compartment that weren't hers.
There's probably an episode of Cheaters floating around somewhere with black and white footage of Ken out on a date with some other broad while Barbie is around the corner in a van with the host. Then Barbie runs up to confront Ken and . . well. . . You've all seen the show. And if you haven't, you're missing the finest trash television.
But just in case you really haven't seen Cheaters, a fight over or with the cheating partner usually ensues. I'm sure Ken fell in line after that. I mean, Barbie looks like she'll cut a bitch.
And if, in fact, Ken does not have a job, I think we have an explanation for the demographic of women that thinks supporting a leech of a boyfriend is a valid life plan. Don't get me wrong. I understand times are tough, but Ken should at least try and get a little side hustle going or pull his weight around the dream house. Where is Stay-At-Home-Dad Ken (After all, Skipper is obviously Ken and Barbie's illegitimate daughter. Little sister, my ass)? Bootleg DVD Ken? Bottle-of-Windex-and-Some-Paper-Towels-by-the-Freeway-Off-Ramp Ken?
Hopefully, Barbie's kept her options open. There's a thousand other Kens out there and Barbie is a millionaire. She can buy any one of them that she wants.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
The Girly Girl
Continuing in the vein of child-rearing (moms, I hope you were taking notes from the last blog. At minimum you will require diapers, a crib, a leash and a baby cage), there's more than just a potential lack of maternal instinct to fear. Of course I'd want a healthy baby, but barring any health issues, there is one other thing that scares the shit out of me: having a girly girl daughter.
Now, don't get me wrong. There's nothing wrong with being a girly girl. . . if you like that sort of thing. I personally never saw the appeal. As a little girl, I liked to read and play video games. As an adult woman, I like to. . . well, read and play video games. The point is that I was never interested in much of the typical girl stuff. I had Barbies, but didn't really care for them. I never had any desire to wear dresses. I think I could count the articles of pink clothing I had on one hand. I wouldn't call myself a tomboy (I sucked at sports/outdoor activities), but I was as far from girly as you can be without having a penis.
Nowadays, everyone knows that I like my makeup and that I can occasionally be found in clothing that is not a t-shirt , jeans and my Chucks, but not a whole lot else has changed. I am actually a goth turned card-carrying geek. I like mmorpgs, comic book and horror movies and sword and sorcery fantasy novels.You want to know whether a superhero is DC or Marvel? I'm your girl. You wanna know what the "in" color is for the fall? I have no fucking clue. Go ask someone that cares.
Now put into the arms of this previously described woman a little girl that likes butterflies and the idea of being a cheerleader. Yeah. . .
Again, not that there's anything wrong with any of these things. There isn't. But putting me in charge of this child would be like putting me in charge of teaching Sunday school (F.Y.I. it is apparently not acceptable to show The Exorcist to a Sunday school class. What? It's religiously-themed). I just wouldn't know how to deal with it. I mean, I suppose I would have to deal with it, but the thought of having to spend time at the American Girl store makes me want to go burn it down before that issue even comes up. I could Build-a-Bear all day, but a doll tea party would require a Valium or seven.
And, of course, my little girl would have to have a bright pink frou-frou bedroom with bows and ruffles and sparkly shit. You know, something that looks like Glinda the Good Witch exploded in it but without all the fun blood and gore? Having this in my house, would be like having the haunted room from Poltergeist down the hall. I actually don't mind pink in moderation, but not of a hue that might cause an epileptic seizure.
Then there's the whole Barbie obsession to potentially deal with. Barbie is like the Apple of dolls, crushing all competitors under her fuschia pumps and looking fabulous while doing it. When I was little, I had a friend that LOVED Barbie. She had Barbie everything. I didn't get it. I had Barbie dolls, too; but I just wasn't that into them, not to the point where I was begging my mom to buy all the accessory crap that goes along with her. Barbie has her own universe, like the Marvel or DC universes only everything is pink and no one gets beat up. . as far as we know.
Anyway, this is a fascination that could be sucking my wallet dry for years if I have a little girl that really gets into it. Of course, the curse of Barbie only begins with the doll and her trappings. There's also the videos. *shudder*
I'm already trying to think of ways to trick my baby daddy into watching this mess. Men, you're usually very good sports about humoring your daughters and their girly crap. But the fact that you will sit down and watch Barbie Princess Party or whatever the hell it is, does in no way mean that you want to watch Barbie Princess party. For myself, sitting still for Barbie anything is going to require either a lobotomy or another person to pawn this duty off on.
If my little girl wants to watch UFC insert-number-here, I'm there. If she wants to watch Barbie Princess Party, then it's time to go to Grandma's house.
Fortunately, when Barbie Princess Whatever leads to my little girl wanting to be a princess for Halloween (which it will, no matter how much I beg her to be a zombie just once), I'll dress her up in a pretty pink dress with a nice tiara and take her out to go trick-or-treating. Then, just before we hit the first house, I'll pop out my handy dandy bucket of pig's blood and BAM! Instant Carrie.
Happy Halloween.
Now, don't get me wrong. There's nothing wrong with being a girly girl. . . if you like that sort of thing. I personally never saw the appeal. As a little girl, I liked to read and play video games. As an adult woman, I like to. . . well, read and play video games. The point is that I was never interested in much of the typical girl stuff. I had Barbies, but didn't really care for them. I never had any desire to wear dresses. I think I could count the articles of pink clothing I had on one hand. I wouldn't call myself a tomboy (I sucked at sports/outdoor activities), but I was as far from girly as you can be without having a penis.
Nowadays, everyone knows that I like my makeup and that I can occasionally be found in clothing that is not a t-shirt , jeans and my Chucks, but not a whole lot else has changed. I am actually a goth turned card-carrying geek. I like mmorpgs, comic book and horror movies and sword and sorcery fantasy novels.You want to know whether a superhero is DC or Marvel? I'm your girl. You wanna know what the "in" color is for the fall? I have no fucking clue. Go ask someone that cares.
Now put into the arms of this previously described woman a little girl that likes butterflies and the idea of being a cheerleader. Yeah. . .
Again, not that there's anything wrong with any of these things. There isn't. But putting me in charge of this child would be like putting me in charge of teaching Sunday school (F.Y.I. it is apparently not acceptable to show The Exorcist to a Sunday school class. What? It's religiously-themed). I just wouldn't know how to deal with it. I mean, I suppose I would have to deal with it, but the thought of having to spend time at the American Girl store makes me want to go burn it down before that issue even comes up. I could Build-a-Bear all day, but a doll tea party would require a Valium or seven.
And, of course, my little girl would have to have a bright pink frou-frou bedroom with bows and ruffles and sparkly shit. You know, something that looks like Glinda the Good Witch exploded in it but without all the fun blood and gore? Having this in my house, would be like having the haunted room from Poltergeist down the hall. I actually don't mind pink in moderation, but not of a hue that might cause an epileptic seizure.
Then there's the whole Barbie obsession to potentially deal with. Barbie is like the Apple of dolls, crushing all competitors under her fuschia pumps and looking fabulous while doing it. When I was little, I had a friend that LOVED Barbie. She had Barbie everything. I didn't get it. I had Barbie dolls, too; but I just wasn't that into them, not to the point where I was begging my mom to buy all the accessory crap that goes along with her. Barbie has her own universe, like the Marvel or DC universes only everything is pink and no one gets beat up. . as far as we know.
Anyway, this is a fascination that could be sucking my wallet dry for years if I have a little girl that really gets into it. Of course, the curse of Barbie only begins with the doll and her trappings. There's also the videos. *shudder*
I'm already trying to think of ways to trick my baby daddy into watching this mess. Men, you're usually very good sports about humoring your daughters and their girly crap. But the fact that you will sit down and watch Barbie Princess Party or whatever the hell it is, does in no way mean that you want to watch Barbie Princess party. For myself, sitting still for Barbie anything is going to require either a lobotomy or another person to pawn this duty off on.
If my little girl wants to watch UFC insert-number-here, I'm there. If she wants to watch Barbie Princess Party, then it's time to go to Grandma's house.
Fortunately, when Barbie Princess Whatever leads to my little girl wanting to be a princess for Halloween (which it will, no matter how much I beg her to be a zombie just once), I'll dress her up in a pretty pink dress with a nice tiara and take her out to go trick-or-treating. Then, just before we hit the first house, I'll pop out my handy dandy bucket of pig's blood and BAM! Instant Carrie.
Happy Halloween.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
My Maternal Instinct
I keep telling other people (and myself) that I'd like to have children one day. Of course, this desire tends to be dependent upon how much recent interaction that I've had with children. There's nothing like a screaming baby in a restaurant or grocery store to make one's ovaries seize up.
Honestly, I haven't spent a lot of time around kids of any age and the idea that I am able to (potentially) reproduce without any sort of license or supervising body is really kinda scary. I will have absolutely no idea what I'm doing, either during or after the pregnancy. I mean, I know you have to get diapers and a crib and stop drinking and smoking about halfway through, but then what? It'd be really nice if, after the baby and before the placenta, an instruction manual came down the old lady pipes. Actually, no. The manual should come out first.
I guess I'm worried that I don't really have much of a maternal instinct or that it is minimal, like the plop-out-the-kid-and-be-on-my-merry-way kind of minimal. Any fool can lie on a gurney doped up on great drugs and have a c-section (hopefully, this can be done by request), but it takes a special person to be truly nurturing. Last time I checked "every man for himself" doesn't really apply to people that just vacated a womb.
Some people are great with kids right out of the gate. And then there's people like me. It's not that I don't like kids. I just don't know what to do with them. I can picture myself in the delivery room holding up my newborn son or daughter like a used Kleenex wondering what to do next. I mean, after you chew through the umbilical cord, what else is there?
I suppose it's not really a far stretch to imagine my husband or baby daddy (I'm getting older, the time to be picky about that is nigh to an end) being summoned all over the city to collect an errant child because I accidentally left him or her somewhere. After all, it's pretty easy to drop your baby at the coat check and forget to pick it up on the way out. Then once they start walking it becomes even harder to keep track of them. One of those kid leashes will definitely be in order. I'm certain that I will have great piece of mind knowing my child is safely tied to the stop sign outside while I'm in Starbucks getting my latte.
Then there are so many ways that you can unconsciously screw up a kid. Having a baby is like buying a used car: you really have no idea what you're getting into until its too late. One day your baby daddy is wheeling you out of the hospital with a sweet little bundle of joy, then the next thing you know, you're on the news with your face blurred out pleading with him or her to turn themselves in.
Ok, so most people don't fuck up that badly, but even just realizing your kid is an asshole has to be a bit sobering. Not that you love them any less (probably), but it has to make you call into question everything you've ever done. Did you not hug them enough? Were you too tough? Should you have been more tough? Or did they just inherit the asshole gene from your significant other's side of the family?
Luckily, none of these are questions that I'll have to contend with any time soon. It's a good thing, though. I have absolutely no where to put a baby cage right now.
Honestly, I haven't spent a lot of time around kids of any age and the idea that I am able to (potentially) reproduce without any sort of license or supervising body is really kinda scary. I will have absolutely no idea what I'm doing, either during or after the pregnancy. I mean, I know you have to get diapers and a crib and stop drinking and smoking about halfway through, but then what? It'd be really nice if, after the baby and before the placenta, an instruction manual came down the old lady pipes. Actually, no. The manual should come out first.
I guess I'm worried that I don't really have much of a maternal instinct or that it is minimal, like the plop-out-the-kid-and-be-on-my-merry-way kind of minimal. Any fool can lie on a gurney doped up on great drugs and have a c-section (hopefully, this can be done by request), but it takes a special person to be truly nurturing. Last time I checked "every man for himself" doesn't really apply to people that just vacated a womb.
Some people are great with kids right out of the gate. And then there's people like me. It's not that I don't like kids. I just don't know what to do with them. I can picture myself in the delivery room holding up my newborn son or daughter like a used Kleenex wondering what to do next. I mean, after you chew through the umbilical cord, what else is there?
I suppose it's not really a far stretch to imagine my husband or baby daddy (I'm getting older, the time to be picky about that is nigh to an end) being summoned all over the city to collect an errant child because I accidentally left him or her somewhere. After all, it's pretty easy to drop your baby at the coat check and forget to pick it up on the way out. Then once they start walking it becomes even harder to keep track of them. One of those kid leashes will definitely be in order. I'm certain that I will have great piece of mind knowing my child is safely tied to the stop sign outside while I'm in Starbucks getting my latte.
Then there are so many ways that you can unconsciously screw up a kid. Having a baby is like buying a used car: you really have no idea what you're getting into until its too late. One day your baby daddy is wheeling you out of the hospital with a sweet little bundle of joy, then the next thing you know, you're on the news with your face blurred out pleading with him or her to turn themselves in.
Ok, so most people don't fuck up that badly, but even just realizing your kid is an asshole has to be a bit sobering. Not that you love them any less (probably), but it has to make you call into question everything you've ever done. Did you not hug them enough? Were you too tough? Should you have been more tough? Or did they just inherit the asshole gene from your significant other's side of the family?
Luckily, none of these are questions that I'll have to contend with any time soon. It's a good thing, though. I have absolutely no where to put a baby cage right now.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Grocery Store Hierarchy
I like going to Target. I probably prefer going to Target over any other store. It's clean, products are quality and some of them have a Starbucks right in the store. Gotta love that. However, they aren't always competitive with other large chain stores. When I had a good job, it was the first place I went to shop and I hardly ever bothered comparison shopping or coupon clipping. The last couple years have been a completely different story and I have found myself shopping at places I never shopped at before. This change in my consumer habits made me realize that there's a grocery store hierarchy that I think most of us unconsciously perpetuate and which is, obviously, dependent upon our current income levels.
Having made this realization, I have ventured to make a list to showcase where the most popular chains lie in order from where you shop when you can afford to shop anywhere down to where you shop when your paydays are marked with a sad face on your calendar.
Top of the list: Whole Foods. I love Whole Foods. Fresh organic produce, the best cuts of meat, all natural selection: what's not to love? The prices, that's what. Whole foods is ridiculously expensive. I've never even tried to get through a whole grocery list here. I'm not at all interested in spending $400 on groceries that could potentially end up in the garbage if and when they expire. Actually, I doubt if I could even throw anything from this store in the trash. The inside of my refrigerator would probably end up looking like a penicillin farm.
Second: Trader Joe's. Trader Joe's actually has very competitive prices. They're big on the organic/natural foods and products and they have $2 wine (no, it's not Boone's Farm). The major issue with them is that their stores and, therefore, their selections, tend to be small. They also have a limited number of locations. So what you would save in food costs, you'd only lose in gas . Trying to go to Trader Joe's is like trying to go to Mordor. I've also not seen one with a parking lot. Can you imagine Frodo and Sam circling Mt. Doom looking for a space? They'd toss that ring in the nearest trash can fire and go on back home.
Next: Supervalu chains. These are your Albertsons/Jewel/Cub Food stores. In Illinois, we have Jewel. Jewel tends to be cheaper than Whole Foods, but some items there can be pricey. The major difference is less organic stuff and the fact that you can catch good sales to make shopping here worth while sometimes. However, the quality of a Jewel store is highly dependent upon the neighborhood in which it is found. Nice neighborhood = nice Jewel. Meh neighborhood = Meh Jewel. Fucked up neighborhood = fucked up Jewel. That's assuming, of course, that your fucked up neighborhood even has a grocery store. If you're living in a food desert, you're just going to have a corner store where half a gallon of milk costs $7.99 and the only vegetables to be found are in dented cans of spaghetti sauce.
Third: Super Target and Meijer. I personally like Super Target because it's a one-stop shop. You can get groceries, a vacuum cleaner and some sexy sock monkey pajama pants all in the same store. But again, some prices can be a bit unreasonable. I've seen $50 pants here. For some people, I know this is not a lot. But for me, I'm not really keen to pay that much for something that is gonna touch my ass. . . unless that something is a 20-year-old with six pack abs. Some of the food prices can be a little high as well. I know that not many people consider Target to be that fancy. To them I say: Go shop at a shitty Wal-Mart and see how nice Target is after that.
Sam's Club and Costco are your mid-tiers. Not bad if you're feeding/clothing/buying tires for a large family or if you're just the sort of person that likes to buy your mayonnaise by the drum. Downside here: people like to pack their 8 kids into full-sized vans and take the whole family grocery shopping. This can be inconvenient for and annoying to people who don't regularly travel in a caravan. I say lock those younger rugrats in a closet for an hour or two and just bring the kids who will not "accidentally" get run over by my shopping cart.
In a class of its own: Wal-mart. I was ethically opposed to shopping here forever. They're awful on many different levels. But my ethics were put in time out after my finances imploded. Bottom line: They're cheap. But they're cheap because their employees work for chewing gum and pocket lint. There's a vague aura of oppression in every store. The produce in here is questionable sometimes. Here's a clue Wal-mart employees: fuzzy peaches = normal. Fuzzy oranges = not normal. Then, too, customers at Wal-mart can be. . . colorful. Think demolition derby crowd meets Freaknik crowd with a Marilyn Manson concert thrown in for good measure. Yeah. . . And the decor is like being in a 30-year-old Sears. I've been to one nice Wal-mart. All the rest of them are a mess.
Piggly Wiggly and Kroger: I haven't seen these two outside of the South, but I'm not exactly well-travelled. They're actually less depressing than being at Wal-mart and they carry name brand foods. The only reason I put them below Walmart on the list is because I've seen these located in strip malls and sometimes their parking lots are so unkempt that the stores look abandoned. Hookers could possibly be blowing people in cars there at night.
Last and Least: Save-a-Lot and Aldi. I'm not looking down on anyone that has shopped at either of these. I have shopped at both of them. You gotta do what you gotta do. They carry some name brand items, but they overwhelmingly carry name brand ripoffs. Now, there's nothing wrong with off brands. I repeat: THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH OFF BRANDS. However. . .
Well, you know when you start eating something. . . .? And you slowly realize it tastes funny. . .? Then you start chewing slower. . .? Then you you start checking out the ingredients on the box. . ? Save-a-Lot and Aldi are notorious for those what-the-fuck-is-in-this tastes to their off brands. What you initially save on the grocery bill can often be cancelled out by what you end up tossing out. It's like stuffing money in a stripper's g-string. Initially you feel good about it, but ultimately, you just wish you had that $5 back. If I didn't know better, I'd swear they were selling us soylent green (brownie points to anyone that gets that reference). Fun fact: Save-a-Lot is one of Supervalu's bastard children.
Honorable mentions: K-mart and Dominicks (Illinois only) If you ever go in K-mart, all the employees have dead eyes. I'm rather surprised that chain is still hanging on. And Dominick's seems to be under the impression that they are Whole Foods. They have gone insane with their prices in recent years. Dear Dominick's: if you have stores in the 'hood, you are not Whole Foods. Get your shit together.
Having made this realization, I have ventured to make a list to showcase where the most popular chains lie in order from where you shop when you can afford to shop anywhere down to where you shop when your paydays are marked with a sad face on your calendar.
Top of the list: Whole Foods. I love Whole Foods. Fresh organic produce, the best cuts of meat, all natural selection: what's not to love? The prices, that's what. Whole foods is ridiculously expensive. I've never even tried to get through a whole grocery list here. I'm not at all interested in spending $400 on groceries that could potentially end up in the garbage if and when they expire. Actually, I doubt if I could even throw anything from this store in the trash. The inside of my refrigerator would probably end up looking like a penicillin farm.
Second: Trader Joe's. Trader Joe's actually has very competitive prices. They're big on the organic/natural foods and products and they have $2 wine (no, it's not Boone's Farm). The major issue with them is that their stores and, therefore, their selections, tend to be small. They also have a limited number of locations. So what you would save in food costs, you'd only lose in gas . Trying to go to Trader Joe's is like trying to go to Mordor. I've also not seen one with a parking lot. Can you imagine Frodo and Sam circling Mt. Doom looking for a space? They'd toss that ring in the nearest trash can fire and go on back home.
Next: Supervalu chains. These are your Albertsons/Jewel/Cub Food stores. In Illinois, we have Jewel. Jewel tends to be cheaper than Whole Foods, but some items there can be pricey. The major difference is less organic stuff and the fact that you can catch good sales to make shopping here worth while sometimes. However, the quality of a Jewel store is highly dependent upon the neighborhood in which it is found. Nice neighborhood = nice Jewel. Meh neighborhood = Meh Jewel. Fucked up neighborhood = fucked up Jewel. That's assuming, of course, that your fucked up neighborhood even has a grocery store. If you're living in a food desert, you're just going to have a corner store where half a gallon of milk costs $7.99 and the only vegetables to be found are in dented cans of spaghetti sauce.
Third: Super Target and Meijer. I personally like Super Target because it's a one-stop shop. You can get groceries, a vacuum cleaner and some sexy sock monkey pajama pants all in the same store. But again, some prices can be a bit unreasonable. I've seen $50 pants here. For some people, I know this is not a lot. But for me, I'm not really keen to pay that much for something that is gonna touch my ass. . . unless that something is a 20-year-old with six pack abs. Some of the food prices can be a little high as well. I know that not many people consider Target to be that fancy. To them I say: Go shop at a shitty Wal-Mart and see how nice Target is after that.
Sam's Club and Costco are your mid-tiers. Not bad if you're feeding/clothing/buying tires for a large family or if you're just the sort of person that likes to buy your mayonnaise by the drum. Downside here: people like to pack their 8 kids into full-sized vans and take the whole family grocery shopping. This can be inconvenient for and annoying to people who don't regularly travel in a caravan. I say lock those younger rugrats in a closet for an hour or two and just bring the kids who will not "accidentally" get run over by my shopping cart.
In a class of its own: Wal-mart. I was ethically opposed to shopping here forever. They're awful on many different levels. But my ethics were put in time out after my finances imploded. Bottom line: They're cheap. But they're cheap because their employees work for chewing gum and pocket lint. There's a vague aura of oppression in every store. The produce in here is questionable sometimes. Here's a clue Wal-mart employees: fuzzy peaches = normal. Fuzzy oranges = not normal. Then, too, customers at Wal-mart can be. . . colorful. Think demolition derby crowd meets Freaknik crowd with a Marilyn Manson concert thrown in for good measure. Yeah. . . And the decor is like being in a 30-year-old Sears. I've been to one nice Wal-mart. All the rest of them are a mess.
Piggly Wiggly and Kroger: I haven't seen these two outside of the South, but I'm not exactly well-travelled. They're actually less depressing than being at Wal-mart and they carry name brand foods. The only reason I put them below Walmart on the list is because I've seen these located in strip malls and sometimes their parking lots are so unkempt that the stores look abandoned. Hookers could possibly be blowing people in cars there at night.
Last and Least: Save-a-Lot and Aldi. I'm not looking down on anyone that has shopped at either of these. I have shopped at both of them. You gotta do what you gotta do. They carry some name brand items, but they overwhelmingly carry name brand ripoffs. Now, there's nothing wrong with off brands. I repeat: THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH OFF BRANDS. However. . .
Well, you know when you start eating something. . . .? And you slowly realize it tastes funny. . .? Then you start chewing slower. . .? Then you you start checking out the ingredients on the box. . ? Save-a-Lot and Aldi are notorious for those what-the-fuck-is-in-this tastes to their off brands. What you initially save on the grocery bill can often be cancelled out by what you end up tossing out. It's like stuffing money in a stripper's g-string. Initially you feel good about it, but ultimately, you just wish you had that $5 back. If I didn't know better, I'd swear they were selling us soylent green (brownie points to anyone that gets that reference). Fun fact: Save-a-Lot is one of Supervalu's bastard children.
Honorable mentions: K-mart and Dominicks (Illinois only) If you ever go in K-mart, all the employees have dead eyes. I'm rather surprised that chain is still hanging on. And Dominick's seems to be under the impression that they are Whole Foods. They have gone insane with their prices in recent years. Dear Dominick's: if you have stores in the 'hood, you are not Whole Foods. Get your shit together.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Ladies: It's Not a Good Look
After the previous blog, I got to thinking that it's not really fair for me to single out men for some of their boneheadedness. I need to be an equal an equal opportunity hater. Women do dumb shit, too. As a woman, I wish I could say that I understood the reasoning behind some of our behaviors, but. . . I just don't. So don't feel too bad, men, when your lady does something that you just don't get. There's a good chance that she doesn't really know either. Unfortunately, we have a tendency to do things just because other women do them. Apparently, some of us have a little lemming DNA in our genetic makeup. I've heard it can be partially deactivated with shock aversion therapy. All except the gene that controls compulsive designer shoe shopping. That instinct harks back to when our ape ancestors gathered stilettos in the wild. It's here to stay.
Speaking of shoes, one thing I don't get in regards to some of our shoes is the addition of heels to shoes meant to serve a practical purpose. I mean, designers put high heels on any and every damned thing these days. Sneakers, hiking boots, snow boots : these are not shoes that are meant to have heels or wedges on them. They are dumb with a capital what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you "D". The whole point of them is to have traction. Last time I checked, you don't really get good traction with a five-inch heel. Yet, every winter, I see women out with these wedge snow boots skating Wile E. Coyote style into trees because their boots don't grip.
First, a lot of these boots are just ridiculous looking. Aside from the wedge, there's fur and tassels and fringe and beads and whatever hell else can be stuck these things. I don't know about anyone else, but I got over liking stickers and rhinestones and shit on my shoes when I was four. Second, anyone that goes out in a foot of snow and ice in a shoe with anything higher than a 1-inch heel deserves to whatever happens to her out there. I'm sure you'll look very sexy in a full body cast.
Another issue, ladies: makeup. If you look like Little Richard, you are wearing too much. Also, glittery makeup should not be worn by anyone over 20. . . unless they're in the circus. Don't get me wrong. I like makeup (if you've seen my pictures, you know that I really like it). Just not when it's been applied with a paint sprayer. And I'm pretty sure that men don't like it when their lady looks like a mime either.
In a similar vein, the whole eyebrow thing where you shave it off and then draw on some more or pluck them to the point where you look like Cookie from The Bozo Show. . . What is that about? Who started that? We need to find this person and take away their razor and tweezers. This look is not for everyone (hell, it probably isn't for anyone). Ladies, we need to stop doing things because we see other women doing them for this very reason. I mean, what's next? If your bff shaves a plug of hair out of the middle of her head, are you going to do that too? In fact, I think I'll start an Internet rumor that this is the hot trend for next spring. I bet I'd get a least a few takers.
One other thing that women do that just astounds me: flocking around one man like a bunch of pigs at a trough. Seeing this phenomenon makes me cringe. I don't care how good looking a man is. That is really thirsty behavior. Am I saying that it's wrong to approach a man? Not at all. But have some dignity. This scenario is going to lead to nothing but unhealthy competition between the women engaging in it. Every time I observe it, I hear this in my head. If it's gonna be all that, let's just skip the formalities and start slapping bitches. I also have to question the integrity and intention of any man that entertains this sort of behavior. Is it flattering? Well, is an abandoned briefcase full of money finders keeps (The answer to both of those questions is "yes")?
Look, I know that some men like that herd mentality in a woman. After all, you never see a cow demanding that a bull man up and take care of his responsibilities. But do you ever stop to think who else these chicks might be flocking around when you're not there, men? There's easier ways to get on Maury Povich.
And ladies, you deserve a man that's going to focus on you and you alone. Don't sell yourself short because a guy has a nice smile. You'll be treated the way you allow people to treat you. This is the wrong foot to start off on.
Third no-no (and this one is really for everyone): Don't leave the house in your pajamas. Now, I don't know when exactly this became mainstream, but I have seen waaaaay too many women out and about in what is obviously sleepwear. Let's make no bones about it: this is tacky. It just is. And it's not like girls are stepping out in sexy satin numbers either. They are rolling out in plaid pajamas bottoms and a wife beater. Obviously, there's nothing wrong with sleeping in this. That pairing is one of my favorite boudoir ensembles (which could be one reason why I'm single, but that's another blog) . But going to the grocery store or class in that outfit with some mystery brown stain on the crotch. . . . Not happening. At least not with me. Mostly because I could pretty much guarantee that I would meet the man of my dreams while wearing sock monkey sleep pants.
Cliff notes version: going to the mailbox in pjs = acceptable. Going to the public library in pjs = unacceptable. I mean, no one is asking anyone to get all gussied up to run an errand. Just put some damned clothes on.
Speaking of shoes, one thing I don't get in regards to some of our shoes is the addition of heels to shoes meant to serve a practical purpose. I mean, designers put high heels on any and every damned thing these days. Sneakers, hiking boots, snow boots : these are not shoes that are meant to have heels or wedges on them. They are dumb with a capital what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you "D". The whole point of them is to have traction. Last time I checked, you don't really get good traction with a five-inch heel. Yet, every winter, I see women out with these wedge snow boots skating Wile E. Coyote style into trees because their boots don't grip.
First, a lot of these boots are just ridiculous looking. Aside from the wedge, there's fur and tassels and fringe and beads and whatever hell else can be stuck these things. I don't know about anyone else, but I got over liking stickers and rhinestones and shit on my shoes when I was four. Second, anyone that goes out in a foot of snow and ice in a shoe with anything higher than a 1-inch heel deserves to whatever happens to her out there. I'm sure you'll look very sexy in a full body cast.
Another issue, ladies: makeup. If you look like Little Richard, you are wearing too much. Also, glittery makeup should not be worn by anyone over 20. . . unless they're in the circus. Don't get me wrong. I like makeup (if you've seen my pictures, you know that I really like it). Just not when it's been applied with a paint sprayer. And I'm pretty sure that men don't like it when their lady looks like a mime either.
In a similar vein, the whole eyebrow thing where you shave it off and then draw on some more or pluck them to the point where you look like Cookie from The Bozo Show. . . What is that about? Who started that? We need to find this person and take away their razor and tweezers. This look is not for everyone (hell, it probably isn't for anyone). Ladies, we need to stop doing things because we see other women doing them for this very reason. I mean, what's next? If your bff shaves a plug of hair out of the middle of her head, are you going to do that too? In fact, I think I'll start an Internet rumor that this is the hot trend for next spring. I bet I'd get a least a few takers.
One other thing that women do that just astounds me: flocking around one man like a bunch of pigs at a trough. Seeing this phenomenon makes me cringe. I don't care how good looking a man is. That is really thirsty behavior. Am I saying that it's wrong to approach a man? Not at all. But have some dignity. This scenario is going to lead to nothing but unhealthy competition between the women engaging in it. Every time I observe it, I hear this in my head. If it's gonna be all that, let's just skip the formalities and start slapping bitches. I also have to question the integrity and intention of any man that entertains this sort of behavior. Is it flattering? Well, is an abandoned briefcase full of money finders keeps (The answer to both of those questions is "yes")?
Look, I know that some men like that herd mentality in a woman. After all, you never see a cow demanding that a bull man up and take care of his responsibilities. But do you ever stop to think who else these chicks might be flocking around when you're not there, men? There's easier ways to get on Maury Povich.
And ladies, you deserve a man that's going to focus on you and you alone. Don't sell yourself short because a guy has a nice smile. You'll be treated the way you allow people to treat you. This is the wrong foot to start off on.
Third no-no (and this one is really for everyone): Don't leave the house in your pajamas. Now, I don't know when exactly this became mainstream, but I have seen waaaaay too many women out and about in what is obviously sleepwear. Let's make no bones about it: this is tacky. It just is. And it's not like girls are stepping out in sexy satin numbers either. They are rolling out in plaid pajamas bottoms and a wife beater. Obviously, there's nothing wrong with sleeping in this. That pairing is one of my favorite boudoir ensembles (which could be one reason why I'm single, but that's another blog) . But going to the grocery store or class in that outfit with some mystery brown stain on the crotch. . . . Not happening. At least not with me. Mostly because I could pretty much guarantee that I would meet the man of my dreams while wearing sock monkey sleep pants.
Cliff notes version: going to the mailbox in pjs = acceptable. Going to the public library in pjs = unacceptable. I mean, no one is asking anyone to get all gussied up to run an errand. Just put some damned clothes on.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Men, Do Your Market Research
So the other day, I was coming out of a store and there was a guy standing outside at the bus stop on the corner. I don't really remember seeing him before I went in. Maybe he was there. Maybe he wasn't. The point is that before I went into the store, I had no interaction with this gentleman whatsoever. However, when I came out, the guy was immediately hitting on me. . . hard. It was like getting sucker punched with sweet talk.
Anyway, whatever he was trying to say was pretty unintelligible and, as I was not particularly interested anyway, I just smiled, got in my car and proceeded to drive away. I have no idea whether his pickup lines were any good or not, but I do know screaming them down the street didn't really win me over.
But the encounter got me to wondering if similar behavior had really paid off for this guy before or if he really didn't think his methodology through before he executed it. I know some men have a game plan when it comes to picking up women, while others like to fly by the seat of their pants. Some men are smooth, some men are not so smooth. Some men are successful, other men crash and burn like the Hindenburg. What's the difference? Who knows. A lot of factors figure into it. Sometimes it's physical attractiveness. Other times, it's experience level. Occasionally it's as simple as hitting on a chick with either low standards, high desperation levels or both.
It can even come down to sheer creativity. Unfortunately, this is where some men get into trouble. There is a fine line between being creative, being a creep ass and being a d-bag. So, gentlemen, before you go slicing off your ear a la Van Gogh or popping up the collar of your shirt like it's 1986, maybe you want to try doing a little research on just how women like to be approached.
Granted, all women aren't exactly the same. But there is a laundry list of things that will absolutely turn 99% of us off. One of my personal big ones: guys pulling up to the curb in their cars. Why? Because 1) I am not a sex drive-thru and 2) I am not a hooker. I have to wonder if this occurs at all to men that do this, that the only other time most men pull up to a curb to talk to a women is if she is a prostitute. Obviously, this isn't the case all the time (she could also be a drug dealer), but, yeah. . . Just in case you didn't know, being treated like a hooker is bad. . . unless the woman actually is one. In which case, cut the crap and show her the money.
Running up to a woman's car at a street light is not really kosher either. First of all, it's dangerous. There is no piece of ass on earth worth playing live-action Frogger over. And if you do manage to make it in to the car without going splat, there is a pretty high chance that you're are a) going to get maced or b) be dragged several hundred feet when the girl accidentally rolls your sleeve up in her window.
Also yelling "Hey shor-tay, you bad!" from the bus stop. . . ?
No. Go stand in the corner.
A similar phenomenon (and yes, this happened to me too) that does not win you brownie points with the object of your affection: driving up on the sidewalk. By and large, seeing a two ton vehicle come careening in our direction does not inspire us to want to go to dinner with you. Sure, you've got the woman right where you want her, but once she regains consciousness, she not going to be real inclined to give you her phone number.
Also, a move that I find circumstantially effective but perhaps shouldn't be applied to women over 18 years old: walking a girl home. Don't get me wrong, it's cute in an old-fashioned way; but once you're out of high school, it can be a bit creepy, especially if you've just met. And I'm not talking out-on-a-date-end-of-the-night just met. More like, follow-me-out-of-Starbucks just met. It's not cute then and actually, more likely than not, the woman has just dialed 9 and 1. You are now one number away from a restraining order.
I guess what I'm trying to say here, men, is just stop and think if you can. But I also understand that sometimes when an opportunity presents itself, there is little to no time to really figure out the best approach. In those cases, trying "Hi, My name is [insert name here]", couldn't really hurt, could it?
Anyway, whatever he was trying to say was pretty unintelligible and, as I was not particularly interested anyway, I just smiled, got in my car and proceeded to drive away. I have no idea whether his pickup lines were any good or not, but I do know screaming them down the street didn't really win me over.
But the encounter got me to wondering if similar behavior had really paid off for this guy before or if he really didn't think his methodology through before he executed it. I know some men have a game plan when it comes to picking up women, while others like to fly by the seat of their pants. Some men are smooth, some men are not so smooth. Some men are successful, other men crash and burn like the Hindenburg. What's the difference? Who knows. A lot of factors figure into it. Sometimes it's physical attractiveness. Other times, it's experience level. Occasionally it's as simple as hitting on a chick with either low standards, high desperation levels or both.
It can even come down to sheer creativity. Unfortunately, this is where some men get into trouble. There is a fine line between being creative, being a creep ass and being a d-bag. So, gentlemen, before you go slicing off your ear a la Van Gogh or popping up the collar of your shirt like it's 1986, maybe you want to try doing a little research on just how women like to be approached.
Granted, all women aren't exactly the same. But there is a laundry list of things that will absolutely turn 99% of us off. One of my personal big ones: guys pulling up to the curb in their cars. Why? Because 1) I am not a sex drive-thru and 2) I am not a hooker. I have to wonder if this occurs at all to men that do this, that the only other time most men pull up to a curb to talk to a women is if she is a prostitute. Obviously, this isn't the case all the time (she could also be a drug dealer), but, yeah. . . Just in case you didn't know, being treated like a hooker is bad. . . unless the woman actually is one. In which case, cut the crap and show her the money.
Running up to a woman's car at a street light is not really kosher either. First of all, it's dangerous. There is no piece of ass on earth worth playing live-action Frogger over. And if you do manage to make it in to the car without going splat, there is a pretty high chance that you're are a) going to get maced or b) be dragged several hundred feet when the girl accidentally rolls your sleeve up in her window.
Also yelling "Hey shor-tay, you bad!" from the bus stop. . . ?
No. Go stand in the corner.
A similar phenomenon (and yes, this happened to me too) that does not win you brownie points with the object of your affection: driving up on the sidewalk. By and large, seeing a two ton vehicle come careening in our direction does not inspire us to want to go to dinner with you. Sure, you've got the woman right where you want her, but once she regains consciousness, she not going to be real inclined to give you her phone number.
Also, a move that I find circumstantially effective but perhaps shouldn't be applied to women over 18 years old: walking a girl home. Don't get me wrong, it's cute in an old-fashioned way; but once you're out of high school, it can be a bit creepy, especially if you've just met. And I'm not talking out-on-a-date-end-of-the-night just met. More like, follow-me-out-of-Starbucks just met. It's not cute then and actually, more likely than not, the woman has just dialed 9 and 1. You are now one number away from a restraining order.
I guess what I'm trying to say here, men, is just stop and think if you can. But I also understand that sometimes when an opportunity presents itself, there is little to no time to really figure out the best approach. In those cases, trying "Hi, My name is [insert name here]", couldn't really hurt, could it?
Saturday, October 8, 2011
What They Don't Tell You About College
I'm am in the second year of a two-year veterinary technology program. Though I have learned a lot and have, for the most part, thoroughly enjoyed my experience, I am seriously ready to graduate. Apparently, in the 7 years since I have been out of school, I have developed a mild case of attention deficit disorder. . . or senility. Don't get me wrong, I get good grades, but it feels harder to focus now than before.
I never thought that, at nearly 31 years old, I'd find myself back in school. In high school, I thought I'd go off to my initial four years of university level work, graduate and live happily ever after. I might as well have thought that the my fairy godmother would wave her magic wand and make me the Queen of Candyland. That was just as likely to happen as me going off to college and having it pan out the way I thought it would.
In a lot of cases, going to college doesn't pay off the way people are led to believe. There's a few tiny details that the guidance counselors and advisors leave out. One of those details is how you'll be bent ass-first over a table by student loan debt for years after you graduate. Seriously, you're going to be like Sisyphus with that shit; unless you're smart enough to embezzle a little money here and there without getting caught. Of course, you also have to be working somewhere worth stealing from. There doesn't really seem to be much point in doctoring the books at 7-11.
There's also the fact that a Bachelor's degree just doesn't cut it the way it used to. More and more jobs are looking for people with advanced degrees. And what does this mean for the average student? It means two to four extra years of trying to quietly get laid in your parents' basement and asking for underwear for Christmas because all the ones you have are being held up by packing tape instead of the original elastic.
But the biggest thing advisers usually forget to mention while they're pimping schools to you: YOU NEED TO GRADUATE WITH AN ACTUAL SKILL.
Really, this is pretty key to going to college and having it make a measurable difference in you life. Any degree that doesn't have immediate application to the world outside of college is probably a waste of time. The only job anyone is going to land with an art degree is teaching a class of unappreciative brats how to paint shitty watercolors. Which is fine if that was your intention all along, but somewhat anticlimactic if it wasn't.
Ok, I take that back. SOME people can make a decent living with a art degree. But most people are going to end up in the teacher's lounge every day at lunch smoking a joint just so they can face the world. And this little scenario doesn't only apply to liberal arts degrees. Most general science degrees are going to be the same way UNLESS you've had the good sense to work in research while you were in school. Even then, getting a good job is a crap shoot without at least a Masters. Otherwise, you could yourself right next to that pothead art teacher drinking vodka out of a coffee mug.
I'm not saying that people shouldn't go to college. They totally should. Kids just need to have a better understanding of how their degree is going to apply to real life. College does not necessarily mean more money. Ever seen those Education Connections commercials with the waitress singing about making more cash by getting more education? Yeah. . . not quite.
First off, what reputable university advertises on the Cartoon Network at 3am? I understand this thing is just a service to connect you with schools, but you don't see an ad for Harvard between episodes of Aqua Teen Hunger Force. Just sayin'.
Secondly, I just don't appreciate this company shopping this pseudo-fallacy out to down-on-their-luck people. Because, honestly, if you're up watching Adult Swim in the wees hours of a weeknight, you probably don't have a job to go to the next day ( and yes, I know this from experience). Going back to school isn't necessarily going to improve your circumstances. Every single time I saw that commercial, I wasn't thinking "hmm, maybe I should go back to school and further I my education". I was thinking "Fuck you, Education Connection".
No, I'm not bitter at all.
I never thought that, at nearly 31 years old, I'd find myself back in school. In high school, I thought I'd go off to my initial four years of university level work, graduate and live happily ever after. I might as well have thought that the my fairy godmother would wave her magic wand and make me the Queen of Candyland. That was just as likely to happen as me going off to college and having it pan out the way I thought it would.
In a lot of cases, going to college doesn't pay off the way people are led to believe. There's a few tiny details that the guidance counselors and advisors leave out. One of those details is how you'll be bent ass-first over a table by student loan debt for years after you graduate. Seriously, you're going to be like Sisyphus with that shit; unless you're smart enough to embezzle a little money here and there without getting caught. Of course, you also have to be working somewhere worth stealing from. There doesn't really seem to be much point in doctoring the books at 7-11.
There's also the fact that a Bachelor's degree just doesn't cut it the way it used to. More and more jobs are looking for people with advanced degrees. And what does this mean for the average student? It means two to four extra years of trying to quietly get laid in your parents' basement and asking for underwear for Christmas because all the ones you have are being held up by packing tape instead of the original elastic.
But the biggest thing advisers usually forget to mention while they're pimping schools to you: YOU NEED TO GRADUATE WITH AN ACTUAL SKILL.
Really, this is pretty key to going to college and having it make a measurable difference in you life. Any degree that doesn't have immediate application to the world outside of college is probably a waste of time. The only job anyone is going to land with an art degree is teaching a class of unappreciative brats how to paint shitty watercolors. Which is fine if that was your intention all along, but somewhat anticlimactic if it wasn't.
Ok, I take that back. SOME people can make a decent living with a art degree. But most people are going to end up in the teacher's lounge every day at lunch smoking a joint just so they can face the world. And this little scenario doesn't only apply to liberal arts degrees. Most general science degrees are going to be the same way UNLESS you've had the good sense to work in research while you were in school. Even then, getting a good job is a crap shoot without at least a Masters. Otherwise, you could yourself right next to that pothead art teacher drinking vodka out of a coffee mug.
I'm not saying that people shouldn't go to college. They totally should. Kids just need to have a better understanding of how their degree is going to apply to real life. College does not necessarily mean more money. Ever seen those Education Connections commercials with the waitress singing about making more cash by getting more education? Yeah. . . not quite.
First off, what reputable university advertises on the Cartoon Network at 3am? I understand this thing is just a service to connect you with schools, but you don't see an ad for Harvard between episodes of Aqua Teen Hunger Force. Just sayin'.
Secondly, I just don't appreciate this company shopping this pseudo-fallacy out to down-on-their-luck people. Because, honestly, if you're up watching Adult Swim in the wees hours of a weeknight, you probably don't have a job to go to the next day ( and yes, I know this from experience). Going back to school isn't necessarily going to improve your circumstances. Every single time I saw that commercial, I wasn't thinking "hmm, maybe I should go back to school and further I my education". I was thinking "Fuck you, Education Connection".
No, I'm not bitter at all.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
My Love Affair with Caffeine
I love caffeine. Anyone who knows me knows that this is a fact. Caffeine has been there with me through the storm. Through late night college cram sessions, through the mornings when I could barely drag my ass out of bed to go to work, through drunken nights when I needed to sober up enough to make that walk of shame, and through the hangovers the morning after, caffeine has been my rock. It is the wind beneath my wings (that's what Bette Midler was singing about, you know. Caffeine).
Our relationship started way back in my childhood with chocolate, but we didn't really get serious until I was in high school. Since then, caffeine has been my one and only, my stimulant of choice. It is easily is on my short list of things that I'd probably never be able to give up, right behind breathing and flashing truckers on the interstate. Some things are just sacred, after all.
My preferred caffeine delivery method is coffee, preferably espresso. I'm pretty sure that I'm independently paying someone's salary over at Starbucks, potentially even putting a kid through college. Still, there is absolutely nothing like a good latte. It's like Prozac and Xanax rolled into one miraculous liquid all without that pesky drug interaction. Plus it's cheaper. At least, that's what I tell myself when I'm digging through the couch cushions for looking for $5 to pay for what's basically half a cup of milk.
Recently, I have also discovered Red bull and Oh. . . My. . . God. I bet this is the same feeling that warriors of bygone eras had when they realized how much more efficient and overall better shooting people was than stabbing people. I mean musket vs. sword? The end of that fight is a foregone conclusion. That's the way I look at Red Bull. The taste is nothing like coffee (it weirdly tastes like a Flintstone chewable vitamin dissolved in corn syrup), but the caffeine rush magnificent; so magnificent that I've limited myself to one a week lest I find myself pimping a stable of hookers for Red Bull money.
What? Chicks can't be pimps, too.
Anyway, I suppose that, at this point, my love affair with caffeine is starting to sound much more like an addiction. Well, it's not. I can stop anytime I want. I actually did quit for about a month last year. Some people claimed that I was more irritable than usual, but that had nothing to do with caffeine withdrawal. I'm actually just a bitch. I was rather surprised no one noticed sooner.
But as much as I love it, I do occasionally try to curb my caffeine intake. Apparently, too much caffeine isn't good for you. Of course, this finding varies from day to day and with the lastest "study". Frankly, I'm tired of "studies" bashing my beloved caffeine. It's not like I'm freebasing meth. . . . yet. And if it's keeping me sane (which it partially is) and keeping me nodding off while driving in the wee hours of the morning what's wrong with a few muscle tremors? As far as I know, muscle tremors never caused anyone to accidentally run over a hitchhiker then have to bury their body in some shallow grave (all of which totally never happened).
Caffeine, I just can't quit you.
Our relationship started way back in my childhood with chocolate, but we didn't really get serious until I was in high school. Since then, caffeine has been my one and only, my stimulant of choice. It is easily is on my short list of things that I'd probably never be able to give up, right behind breathing and flashing truckers on the interstate. Some things are just sacred, after all.
My preferred caffeine delivery method is coffee, preferably espresso. I'm pretty sure that I'm independently paying someone's salary over at Starbucks, potentially even putting a kid through college. Still, there is absolutely nothing like a good latte. It's like Prozac and Xanax rolled into one miraculous liquid all without that pesky drug interaction. Plus it's cheaper. At least, that's what I tell myself when I'm digging through the couch cushions for looking for $5 to pay for what's basically half a cup of milk.
Recently, I have also discovered Red bull and Oh. . . My. . . God. I bet this is the same feeling that warriors of bygone eras had when they realized how much more efficient and overall better shooting people was than stabbing people. I mean musket vs. sword? The end of that fight is a foregone conclusion. That's the way I look at Red Bull. The taste is nothing like coffee (it weirdly tastes like a Flintstone chewable vitamin dissolved in corn syrup), but the caffeine rush magnificent; so magnificent that I've limited myself to one a week lest I find myself pimping a stable of hookers for Red Bull money.
What? Chicks can't be pimps, too.
Anyway, I suppose that, at this point, my love affair with caffeine is starting to sound much more like an addiction. Well, it's not. I can stop anytime I want. I actually did quit for about a month last year. Some people claimed that I was more irritable than usual, but that had nothing to do with caffeine withdrawal. I'm actually just a bitch. I was rather surprised no one noticed sooner.
But as much as I love it, I do occasionally try to curb my caffeine intake. Apparently, too much caffeine isn't good for you. Of course, this finding varies from day to day and with the lastest "study". Frankly, I'm tired of "studies" bashing my beloved caffeine. It's not like I'm freebasing meth. . . . yet. And if it's keeping me sane (which it partially is) and keeping me nodding off while driving in the wee hours of the morning what's wrong with a few muscle tremors? As far as I know, muscle tremors never caused anyone to accidentally run over a hitchhiker then have to bury their body in some shallow grave (all of which totally never happened).
Caffeine, I just can't quit you.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Your Friendly Neighborhood Cemetery
If you live in a big city (or probably any city for that matter), you more likely than not have observed the phenomenon of urban cemeteries. Not being a historian of any sort myself, I can only assume that these plots were originally suburban graveyards that were swallowed up in urban sprawl. After all, who would intentionally plan to put a bunch of dead people on prime real estate? Look at the ancient Egyptians. They dumped their bodies in the desert, albeit in very elaborate tombs. As royal and rich as they might have been, not even the pharaohs were getting buried any place that might potentially have condos on it one day.
Personally, I find urban cemeteries creepy. I'm not a superstitious person. Hell, whether or not I believe in God really depends on how I'm feeling that day. I'm equally divided in a belief in the afterlife. I don't have any proof of it, but I don't have any proof to the contrary either. I'm not particularly sure that I would even want proof. Mostly because it would involve seeing someone dead in a setting that does not involve a) a funeral home, b) a video will or c)their corpse being poked with a stick.
I won't lie. It would freak me out. I don't care who it is and I don't care how benevolent the visitation might be. I want a dead human in my house (corporeal or incorporeal) about as much as I want a dead skunk in my house. Unless the dead human happens to be one of a number of ex-bosses, in which case I'd mount the skull on the porch as a warning to intruders.
But just to be on the safe side, I've informed a number of family members that I'd prefer not to enjoy their company after they are deceased. It wouldn't be anything personal . . .in most cases. Anyway, I think 40 or 50 years together is a good run. I hate it when the living overstay their welcome. Can you imagine having that one annoying aunt or uncle rattling chains or whatnot in your hallways all night and having to, yet again, figure out a polite way to tell them to get the fuck out? Death should be the end of clueless, pushy relatives. There are no messages from beyond the grave that are of any import to me except maybe those regarding money, and even then only in the form of cash or jewelry. In which case, a note or a map taped to the refrigerator will be sufficient and a second visit will not be warranted.
That being said, I think it makes sense that I have even less desire to see some random ghostly mofo traipsing around my house or apartment than I do a deceased relative. So living in close proximity to any cemetery is probably out of the question for me. I don't care how nice the neighborhood is otherwise. Even if there are no such things as ghosts, the bottom line is there is basically a field of rotting corpses across the street. I don't know about anyone else, but that isn't really a big selling point for me.
Plus I've been wrong about a lot of things in my life. I'd rather not find out the hard way that I've been wrong about this too via a shrieking severed head floating over my bed every night at exactly 1:51a.m. Believe me, with my luck, this is the sort of manifestation I'd get. Honestly, if it was going to be doing that anyway, I 'd just go ahead and request it start up around 6 a.m. or so; eliminate the need for an alarm clock. Couldn't hurt right? Unless, of course, it was one of those hauntings that you can't interact with. Then that room would become the new guest room.
I'll admit, there's a sort of eerie beauty to any graveyard. That doesn't mean that I want to look out my bedroom window everyday at it, though. And what happens if there's a zombie apocalypse? Guess where the zombies are going first. That's right. The singles complex across the way. It'd be like the zombies had a Burger King next door. Their way, right away.
A zombie apocalypse is reason number 17 on my list of why everyone should have a double-barreled shot gun in their house. But that's a whole other blog.
Personally, I find urban cemeteries creepy. I'm not a superstitious person. Hell, whether or not I believe in God really depends on how I'm feeling that day. I'm equally divided in a belief in the afterlife. I don't have any proof of it, but I don't have any proof to the contrary either. I'm not particularly sure that I would even want proof. Mostly because it would involve seeing someone dead in a setting that does not involve a) a funeral home, b) a video will or c)their corpse being poked with a stick.
I won't lie. It would freak me out. I don't care who it is and I don't care how benevolent the visitation might be. I want a dead human in my house (corporeal or incorporeal) about as much as I want a dead skunk in my house. Unless the dead human happens to be one of a number of ex-bosses, in which case I'd mount the skull on the porch as a warning to intruders.
But just to be on the safe side, I've informed a number of family members that I'd prefer not to enjoy their company after they are deceased. It wouldn't be anything personal . . .in most cases. Anyway, I think 40 or 50 years together is a good run. I hate it when the living overstay their welcome. Can you imagine having that one annoying aunt or uncle rattling chains or whatnot in your hallways all night and having to, yet again, figure out a polite way to tell them to get the fuck out? Death should be the end of clueless, pushy relatives. There are no messages from beyond the grave that are of any import to me except maybe those regarding money, and even then only in the form of cash or jewelry. In which case, a note or a map taped to the refrigerator will be sufficient and a second visit will not be warranted.
That being said, I think it makes sense that I have even less desire to see some random ghostly mofo traipsing around my house or apartment than I do a deceased relative. So living in close proximity to any cemetery is probably out of the question for me. I don't care how nice the neighborhood is otherwise. Even if there are no such things as ghosts, the bottom line is there is basically a field of rotting corpses across the street. I don't know about anyone else, but that isn't really a big selling point for me.
Plus I've been wrong about a lot of things in my life. I'd rather not find out the hard way that I've been wrong about this too via a shrieking severed head floating over my bed every night at exactly 1:51a.m. Believe me, with my luck, this is the sort of manifestation I'd get. Honestly, if it was going to be doing that anyway, I 'd just go ahead and request it start up around 6 a.m. or so; eliminate the need for an alarm clock. Couldn't hurt right? Unless, of course, it was one of those hauntings that you can't interact with. Then that room would become the new guest room.
I'll admit, there's a sort of eerie beauty to any graveyard. That doesn't mean that I want to look out my bedroom window everyday at it, though. And what happens if there's a zombie apocalypse? Guess where the zombies are going first. That's right. The singles complex across the way. It'd be like the zombies had a Burger King next door. Their way, right away.
A zombie apocalypse is reason number 17 on my list of why everyone should have a double-barreled shot gun in their house. But that's a whole other blog.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
The Golden Years
I am 30 years old, very shortly going on 31. I keep saying that I'm old. I have some gray hairs, wake up with the occasional mysterious ache in a miscellaneous body part and have seen my metabolism drop to that of a dead fish; but I'm not really old. I've matured like a fine wine single malt Scotch one of those stinky fancy cheeses that are supposed to be good but taste like ass.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that my 20s are over, but I'm comfortable with that. Good riddance. What a shitty decade.
Anyhoo, now that I'm a "responsible adult", I find my thoughts turning more and more towards the future; specifically retirement. Yes, I am already looking forward to retirement. Working is for suckers. However, as I have become quite partial to food, shelter, clothing and Impressionist art; work will be mandatory for at least the next 35-37 years. . . if not longer. The government keeps raising the retirement age hoping that most of us will be dead (or damn near it) by the time we're old enough to collect full benefits. As if you can live solely on social security anyway. At the rate the cost of living is going up, retirees are going to be torching their houses to get their hands of some of that sweet, sweet insurance fraud cash.
As of this year, I have absolutely nothing saved. There are several reasons for this, the biggest being that I had a string of crap jobs in my 20s that a)had me living from paycheck to paycheck and b) were independent businesses that didn't have retirement plans for employees to pay into. Now, as I've said, at this point in my life, I have roughly another 40 years of work ahead me. That is assuming, of course, that I'm not bussing tables until the day I drop dead. But time flies. One day you're in high school and the next day you're crashing through the front of a KFC because you thought the accelerator was the brake and your kids were too chickenshit to make you stop driving sooner. It's time for me to really start thinking about how I'll be funding my golden years
With the markets being what they are, 401Ks and IRAs are iffy right now. Not that I have any money to put into either one of those anyway, but I can think of much more entertaining ways to piss money away than watching it evaporate in a stock market free fall. And I think a lot of people are in the same boat. Either they've just not been in a position to save money or have had to dip into their savings during the recession (you know, the one that allegedly ended in 2008/2009) just to get by.
For myself, unless some things change, I'm going to have to get really creative. Tin cans of cash buried in the yard and Crown Royal bags full of pennies are just not what they used to be fiscally speaking. Unless, of course, I take that money to my local Indian casino and bet everything on a hand of blackjack. Hey, you never know. One lucky night could get me a nice little hoveround and buy a condo in Florida, all in one fell swoop.
Then, of course, there's the backup plan of three or four generations of lower and middle class Americans: lottery tickets. An investment of a couple dollars a day could potentially see me with a big house, five cars and my very own episode of "The Lottery Ruined My Life". And what have I got to lose, really? Sure, I could put a dollar a day in a savings account for 40 years, but even with interest I'd barely end up with $16,000 by the time I retire. If I have to bail even one grandkid out jail, that cash is history. Then, in the event that no one in the family ends up being a felon, I could have the misfortune of being one of those people that lingers on and on well into her 90s. $16,000 isn't going to last very long. Then what? I end up in a state nursing home where the nurses occasionally forget to wheel the old people in out of the rain, that's what.
Then there's always the good old have-a-bunch-of-kids-and-see-if-anyone-makes-it-big strategy. NBA/NFL/MLB/RAPPER/SINGER/NASCAR kid could set me up really nice. Hell, I'd even take WWE kid. There's guys in there that have been successfully "wrestling" 20-25 years. By the time the kid is Ric Flair old and not really making money anymore, I'll probably be dead anyway.
Finally is the last (and least attractive) resort of actually continuing to work well into my 70s and 80s.
I suppose it's lucky for us all the demand for drug mules never seems to decline.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that my 20s are over, but I'm comfortable with that. Good riddance. What a shitty decade.
Anyhoo, now that I'm a "responsible adult", I find my thoughts turning more and more towards the future; specifically retirement. Yes, I am already looking forward to retirement. Working is for suckers. However, as I have become quite partial to food, shelter, clothing and Impressionist art; work will be mandatory for at least the next 35-37 years. . . if not longer. The government keeps raising the retirement age hoping that most of us will be dead (or damn near it) by the time we're old enough to collect full benefits. As if you can live solely on social security anyway. At the rate the cost of living is going up, retirees are going to be torching their houses to get their hands of some of that sweet, sweet insurance fraud cash.
As of this year, I have absolutely nothing saved. There are several reasons for this, the biggest being that I had a string of crap jobs in my 20s that a)had me living from paycheck to paycheck and b) were independent businesses that didn't have retirement plans for employees to pay into. Now, as I've said, at this point in my life, I have roughly another 40 years of work ahead me. That is assuming, of course, that I'm not bussing tables until the day I drop dead. But time flies. One day you're in high school and the next day you're crashing through the front of a KFC because you thought the accelerator was the brake and your kids were too chickenshit to make you stop driving sooner. It's time for me to really start thinking about how I'll be funding my golden years
With the markets being what they are, 401Ks and IRAs are iffy right now. Not that I have any money to put into either one of those anyway, but I can think of much more entertaining ways to piss money away than watching it evaporate in a stock market free fall. And I think a lot of people are in the same boat. Either they've just not been in a position to save money or have had to dip into their savings during the recession (you know, the one that allegedly ended in 2008/2009) just to get by.
For myself, unless some things change, I'm going to have to get really creative. Tin cans of cash buried in the yard and Crown Royal bags full of pennies are just not what they used to be fiscally speaking. Unless, of course, I take that money to my local Indian casino and bet everything on a hand of blackjack. Hey, you never know. One lucky night could get me a nice little hoveround and buy a condo in Florida, all in one fell swoop.
Then, of course, there's the backup plan of three or four generations of lower and middle class Americans: lottery tickets. An investment of a couple dollars a day could potentially see me with a big house, five cars and my very own episode of "The Lottery Ruined My Life". And what have I got to lose, really? Sure, I could put a dollar a day in a savings account for 40 years, but even with interest I'd barely end up with $16,000 by the time I retire. If I have to bail even one grandkid out jail, that cash is history. Then, in the event that no one in the family ends up being a felon, I could have the misfortune of being one of those people that lingers on and on well into her 90s. $16,000 isn't going to last very long. Then what? I end up in a state nursing home where the nurses occasionally forget to wheel the old people in out of the rain, that's what.
Then there's always the good old have-a-bunch-of-kids-and-see-if-anyone-makes-it-big strategy. NBA/NFL/MLB/RAPPER/SINGER/NASCAR kid could set me up really nice. Hell, I'd even take WWE kid. There's guys in there that have been successfully "wrestling" 20-25 years. By the time the kid is Ric Flair old and not really making money anymore, I'll probably be dead anyway.
Finally is the last (and least attractive) resort of actually continuing to work well into my 70s and 80s.
I suppose it's lucky for us all the demand for drug mules never seems to decline.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Unemployment Compensation Myths
According to many financial analysts and other fancy economic-type folks, we've been out of the recession for about a 2-3 years now. The U.S. economy apparently didn't get the memo, though. Perhaps it was out collecting cans to pay it's electric bill. But wherever the miscommunication occurred, many people continue to feel the effects of the recession and may continue to for years to come. While we are allegedly experiencing economic growth, the job market is just not there yet. It's dead. I mean, real dead. You that funky smell coming from under the hood of your car that you thought maybe might be a dead squirrel stuck up by the water pump ? That's the job market.
People that had job security 5 years ago are now people that would kill to be the McDonald's employee that spits in the Big Mac of the rude asshole at the drive-thru window. But until the job market recovers, many are being forced to subsist on unemployment compensation. I mean, we've all paid into it, right? Might as well get some of it back. Otherwise, it's just more money we've worked for that we're pissing away. *cough, cough* social security *cough, cough*
However, there are many negative connotations associated with drawing unemployment, mostly perpetuated by people who haven't ever had to do it. The misconceptions are astounding and, sometimes, downright insulting.
So, just for the record for anyone that may half-way care:
1) No one WANTS to collect unemployment. Well. . . most people don't want to collect unemployment, but the edge of financial ruin is certainly not to place to get all uppity. You gotta do what you gotta do. F.Y.I. there's plenty of easier ways to lay around and get a government hand-out. State unemployment departments are full of shit and you have to jump through all kinds of hoops to get and keep your benefits. . . which is actually fairly ridiculous considering you're trying to get money back that you already paid. It's like an extra-retarded income tax refund.
2) No one is ballin' on employment. This is the thing that gets me the most. People seem to think that people drawing unemployment are sitting around at home in a top hat and spats eating steak and lobster for dinner and laughing at all the suckers that went to work that day. Well, maybe some of them are. Though, personally, I pawned my top hat and spats for gas money like a year ago. I do still have a pretty spiffy monocle, though. Gotta have something to leave to the kids. . . assuming I can ever afford to have any.
But yeah. Basically, you're poor. Unemployment benefits are like 50% or less of whatever you made at work. So there's a good chance you're eating pork and beans with hotdogs cut up in it. That or good old Ramen: the breakfast, lunch and dinner of champions. Could also possibly end up being Thanksgiving and Xmas dinner until you find a job.
3) Unemployed people ARE looking for work. The unemployment department makes you. And even if they didn't, most people still would. Why? Because (and this is key), it's easier to just go work than collect unemployment. No. Really.
The problem is that you can't get what's not there. Looking for work in this economy is (for all you wrestling fans) like being in a royal rumble. In fact, employers should just do that. Lock applicants in a cage and the last man standing gets the job. That's pretty much the sort of competition everyone is up against anyway and it would keep all of us from having to edit our resumes constantly.
For myself, I decided to use my unscheduled two years of vacation to go back to school. Because, apparently, that five years I went from 1999-2004 wasn't sufficient to land me any job that didn't involve me answering someone else's phone.
People that had job security 5 years ago are now people that would kill to be the McDonald's employee that spits in the Big Mac of the rude asshole at the drive-thru window. But until the job market recovers, many are being forced to subsist on unemployment compensation. I mean, we've all paid into it, right? Might as well get some of it back. Otherwise, it's just more money we've worked for that we're pissing away. *cough, cough* social security *cough, cough*
However, there are many negative connotations associated with drawing unemployment, mostly perpetuated by people who haven't ever had to do it. The misconceptions are astounding and, sometimes, downright insulting.
So, just for the record for anyone that may half-way care:
1) No one WANTS to collect unemployment. Well. . . most people don't want to collect unemployment, but the edge of financial ruin is certainly not to place to get all uppity. You gotta do what you gotta do. F.Y.I. there's plenty of easier ways to lay around and get a government hand-out. State unemployment departments are full of shit and you have to jump through all kinds of hoops to get and keep your benefits. . . which is actually fairly ridiculous considering you're trying to get money back that you already paid. It's like an extra-retarded income tax refund.
2) No one is ballin' on employment. This is the thing that gets me the most. People seem to think that people drawing unemployment are sitting around at home in a top hat and spats eating steak and lobster for dinner and laughing at all the suckers that went to work that day. Well, maybe some of them are. Though, personally, I pawned my top hat and spats for gas money like a year ago. I do still have a pretty spiffy monocle, though. Gotta have something to leave to the kids. . . assuming I can ever afford to have any.
But yeah. Basically, you're poor. Unemployment benefits are like 50% or less of whatever you made at work. So there's a good chance you're eating pork and beans with hotdogs cut up in it. That or good old Ramen: the breakfast, lunch and dinner of champions. Could also possibly end up being Thanksgiving and Xmas dinner until you find a job.
3) Unemployed people ARE looking for work. The unemployment department makes you. And even if they didn't, most people still would. Why? Because (and this is key), it's easier to just go work than collect unemployment. No. Really.
The problem is that you can't get what's not there. Looking for work in this economy is (for all you wrestling fans) like being in a royal rumble. In fact, employers should just do that. Lock applicants in a cage and the last man standing gets the job. That's pretty much the sort of competition everyone is up against anyway and it would keep all of us from having to edit our resumes constantly.
For myself, I decided to use my unscheduled two years of vacation to go back to school. Because, apparently, that five years I went from 1999-2004 wasn't sufficient to land me any job that didn't involve me answering someone else's phone.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
I'm Addicted to Rageahol
For almost the last two years, I've been driving all around northern Illinois; mostly for school related reasons. Just going to school and back is literally about 80 miles a day round trip. Needless to say, this is quite a bit of driving; especially for me. I'm a city girl. For years, my primary means of transportation were either my own two feet or public transportation.
Now, am I saying that I miss the good old Chicago Transit Authority? Not quite. After playing a few thousand rounds of "what the hell is that smell?", public transportation sort of loses its charm. Not to mention that fact that you can get from point A to point B faster by dog sled than you can by bus during the winter months and it becomes fairly obvious that the CTA has its downside.
I was forced into commuting by necessity. Don't get me wrong. I love my car. LOVE IT. My scale of things I love the most goes Mom>Cats>Car>Caffeine>Miscellaneousotherfamilymembers. My car has direct service from one destination to the next without any additional stops. My car runs on my schedule. My car is temperature-controlled and is there whenever I want it. And best of all, my car doesn't have any random creepy dudes that choose to sit directly next to me even though there may be thirty empty seats available.
Yet, driving does have it cons; the biggest of them being that you have to drive with other people. Now, at 5am outbound on any major expressway leading out of the city, this is not a big deal. Roads are clear and cops are scarce. It's pretty much the ideal driving time as far as I'm concerned. I like speed like crackheads like. . . well. . . crack. Any other time of day is pretty much a clusterfuck of old people driving 15mph under the speed limit and 85% of everyone else driving the actual Illinois speed limit or whatever the speed limit is in the their home state (which is apparently 20mph).
Needless to say, I'm prone to the occasional road rage. It's not a serious case, mind you. I'm not going to be on the next episode of Dr. Phil with my face blurred out whipping a milkshake (or whatever else I happen to be drinking at the time) onto someone else's windsheild while screaming obscenities. That is totally not me. I don't care if it does look like me. That's a complete coincidence.
Anyhoo, I will admit that I have been known to get slightly pissed off at people in the far left lane who are driving like they're driving Miss Daisy. Maybe I've tailgated them a little bit. Maybe I've flashed my brights in their rearview mirror so many times that it looks like Morse code. I'm not asking them to break the speed limit. I just want them to get the hell out of the way so I can do it. Would it really kill anyone to speed up just a little to change lanes? I find it fairly unlikely that a state trooper is going to appear, throw down a spike strip causing their car to fishtail out into the median, then drag them out of the driver's seat and beat the shit out of them for going 5mph over the speed limit. Unless, of course, they're shooting an episode of Cops. In which, case that could happen. . . they could also coincidentally "discover" a kilo of cocaine in the trunk. Still, odds are pretty low on all that.
Then there's that's special driver that for sure sees you coming up behind them , but still decides to change lanes at the last minute. Obviously, risking being rear ended by another car going 80 and having you both burst into a Jerry Bruckheimer-esque ball of flame is totally worth passing a school bus.
Anyone driving a semi or a one of those Pace vans should go end themselves. Immediately. I'm sure that after 8 straight hours of having a pack of geezers jabbering at you to slow down even while the van is in park, death probably starts to look pretty good anyway.
Luckily, I have roughly 8 months of school left. My long distance commute should come to an end after that. Hopefully, it'll be back to cheapie public transportation and it's colorful cast of characters. Because, you know, it's really been too long since I heard the soothing sound of a drunk retching in the back of a train car.
Now, am I saying that I miss the good old Chicago Transit Authority? Not quite. After playing a few thousand rounds of "what the hell is that smell?", public transportation sort of loses its charm. Not to mention that fact that you can get from point A to point B faster by dog sled than you can by bus during the winter months and it becomes fairly obvious that the CTA has its downside.
I was forced into commuting by necessity. Don't get me wrong. I love my car. LOVE IT. My scale of things I love the most goes Mom>Cats>Car>Caffeine>Miscellaneousotherfamilymembers. My car has direct service from one destination to the next without any additional stops. My car runs on my schedule. My car is temperature-controlled and is there whenever I want it. And best of all, my car doesn't have any random creepy dudes that choose to sit directly next to me even though there may be thirty empty seats available.
Yet, driving does have it cons; the biggest of them being that you have to drive with other people. Now, at 5am outbound on any major expressway leading out of the city, this is not a big deal. Roads are clear and cops are scarce. It's pretty much the ideal driving time as far as I'm concerned. I like speed like crackheads like. . . well. . . crack. Any other time of day is pretty much a clusterfuck of old people driving 15mph under the speed limit and 85% of everyone else driving the actual Illinois speed limit or whatever the speed limit is in the their home state (which is apparently 20mph).
Needless to say, I'm prone to the occasional road rage. It's not a serious case, mind you. I'm not going to be on the next episode of Dr. Phil with my face blurred out whipping a milkshake (or whatever else I happen to be drinking at the time) onto someone else's windsheild while screaming obscenities. That is totally not me. I don't care if it does look like me. That's a complete coincidence.
Anyhoo, I will admit that I have been known to get slightly pissed off at people in the far left lane who are driving like they're driving Miss Daisy. Maybe I've tailgated them a little bit. Maybe I've flashed my brights in their rearview mirror so many times that it looks like Morse code. I'm not asking them to break the speed limit. I just want them to get the hell out of the way so I can do it. Would it really kill anyone to speed up just a little to change lanes? I find it fairly unlikely that a state trooper is going to appear, throw down a spike strip causing their car to fishtail out into the median, then drag them out of the driver's seat and beat the shit out of them for going 5mph over the speed limit. Unless, of course, they're shooting an episode of Cops. In which, case that could happen. . . they could also coincidentally "discover" a kilo of cocaine in the trunk. Still, odds are pretty low on all that.
Then there's that's special driver that for sure sees you coming up behind them , but still decides to change lanes at the last minute. Obviously, risking being rear ended by another car going 80 and having you both burst into a Jerry Bruckheimer-esque ball of flame is totally worth passing a school bus.
Anyone driving a semi or a one of those Pace vans should go end themselves. Immediately. I'm sure that after 8 straight hours of having a pack of geezers jabbering at you to slow down even while the van is in park, death probably starts to look pretty good anyway.
Luckily, I have roughly 8 months of school left. My long distance commute should come to an end after that. Hopefully, it'll be back to cheapie public transportation and it's colorful cast of characters. Because, you know, it's really been too long since I heard the soothing sound of a drunk retching in the back of a train car.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
I Hate Morning People
Now, I realize that this is not the norm for everyone. Some people are bright-eyed and bushy-tailed every morning no matter what time it is. They jump out of bed raring to go and ready to take the world by the horns. They are cheerful and alert and can easily overcome any lingering fatigue from the night before as quickly and easily as you can say "good morning". . . .
I hate these people. A lot.
While I do not begrudge anyone whatever they like to do in the morning, be it starting the day with a workout or some yoga right down to lighting up a joint, I find myself becoming violently annoyed when they try to drag me into it. I am not a morning person. Never have been. Never will be. My mind is not firing on all cylinders before a certain hour. The only parts of my brain that are active are the basic motor skills portion and the angry-stabby-bitchy portion. The one part has no coherent thoughts. The other part just wants everyone to go away or die, whichever comes first. It is a veritable recipe for disaster.
And as if just daring to be cheerful in the a.m. isn't enough, the worst part about morning people is that they don't seem to realize that there are some who don't wish to be engaged at that hour. They chatter away happily like everyone gives a shit about whatever the hell they're talking about. Not that there probably isn't someone that does, but personally, all I can hear of what anyone says before 9a.m. is the waah-waah sound all the adults in every Charlie Brown special make. And as irritating as that sound is, I think I'm justified in wishing they would shut the fuck up and disappear for two hours.
Some may be wondering why I'm bringing this up. Well, for the obvious reason that I seem to be some sort of magnet for these people. The rate at which I attract them is positively surreal. I am not ashamed to say that I look like a cross between a zombie and a schizo in the morning. Is that really the face of a person that wants a pleasant chat? No, it's the face of a person that's going to end up as the suspect on a 48 Hours mystery.
I really don't understand what's getting lost in translation.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Love Note from the U.S. Department of Education
Dear Deadbeat,
This office is writing in reference to your repeated requests for forbearance on your student loans. We have been more than happy to grant your petitions due to the outrageous interest that accrues during these periods, but don't you think this is getting a little ridiculous? To date, your current debt is approximately $12,000 give or take a grand; chump change compared to the hundreds of thousands of dollars owed to us by professional students at the end of their educational careers.
Considering the paltry nature of this sum, we advise you to begin making some sort of effort to settle this debt. In light of you having completed your education instead of pissing your loan away like so many of our other victims. . . . er. . . . clients, we highly suggest you cease and desist in the continuing series of crap jobs that have rendered you unable to submit payment.
In today's competitive job market, we understand the difficulty that you may be encountering in identifying viable career options and are pleased to inform you that there are scads of opportunities in the exotic dancing and pornographic motion picture industries, both with exciting potential for expansion into the wonderful world of prostitution.
Of course, by no means are we attempting to add any undue stress to what is already a walk-into-the-office-and-blow-everyone-away life situation. We simply have our. . . .er. . . your best interests in mind. As you are probably aware, our office is dedicated to providing the highest quality of service. After all, you've paid for it. . . . or you will. . . . because we'll make you.
As an informative aside, U.S. citizens who have obtained student loans are no longer permitted to dissolve the debt by declaring bankruptcy. In cases of financial hardship, we are amenable to extending multiple deferments on your loans. Confidentially, however, we advise you not to go this route. Though we will extend these deferments indefinitely, we are not above hounding your immediate family after you have faked your death. Conversely, some of our clients do experience continued difficulty in satisfying their payment obligations and late or non-payment is unacceptable. We don't care if you are living in a box in an alley. We will put a lien on your box.
In conclusion, we are more than willing to make payment arrangements tailored to your specific needs. Please contact us if you would like a list of approved pawn shops or blood donation outlets. If you have any questions or concerns, a dumb-ass automated system is available 24-hours, 7 days a week or you can speak with one live operator for roughly 55 minutes a day from 1:00 p.m-1:55 p.m. Eastern Standard Time. Alternately, you can contact us by mail. Response time is 6-8 weeks. Thank you for your time and we look forward to sucking you dry for the next ten years.
Best Regards,
U.S. Department of Education
P.S. Don't forget: WE KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE!Saturday, October 24, 2009
Sandwich Gravy
So, I'm watching t.v. the other day and an Arby's commercial comes on advertising one of their many tasty, artery-clogging sandwiches. I don't recall which one it was, but it was one of the ones that comes with an au jus dipping sauce.
Now, some may be wondering what exactly "au jus" is. Unless you're a food geek, this may not be part of your vernacular. According to Wikipedia, au jus is French for "with [its own] juice". Jus is the juice itself. In French cuisine, jus is a natural way to enhance the flavour of dishes, mainly chicken, veal and lamb.
Sounds good, right? Problem is, Arby's is not exactly a high class dining establishment. Frankly, I'd be surprised if there weren't deep fried critters in with the curly fries or if the special
"seasoning" on them doesn't just come from the fries being dropped on the floor.
More likely than not, the use of the term au jus is clever marketing ploy to make Arby's sandwiches sound yummier and, to the consumer subconscious, fancier.
Yeah, 'cause nothing says "high class" like processed cheese and meat that may or may not actually be roast beef.
Now, don't get me wrong. I like Arby's (but then I also like White Castle, so that's not really saying much). I don't knock them for trying to push their product any way they can. After all, shoving products down the consumer gullet ad nauseum is the American way. The issue I have with the fast food version of au jus is the second part of Wikipedia's definition:
"Often prepared in the United States is a seasoned sauce with several additional flavourings. American recipes au jus often use soy sauce, Worcestershire sauce, salt, pepper, white or brown sugar, garlic, onion, or other ingredients to make something more like a gravy."
The key word there is "gravy". Gravy! Fast food au jus is, in essence, sandwich gravy. Because that's just what a sandwich made of cheese and (alleged) red meat needs, right? Gravy.
I won't pretend like I'm the poster child for healthy eating. . . not unless Ramen, cheesecake and red No. 40 are part of the major food groups now, but there's just something wrong about gravy on a sandwich. Kind of like that bacon cheeseburger made of donuts (here). Bacon cheeseburgers are great. Donuts are great. But they don't belong together.
I mean, you can see through an Arby's bag by the time you get home when there's just a regular sandwich in there. Do we really want to throw gravy into that mix? It's worse that putting ranch dressing on a deli sandwich. A deli sandwich can actually be pretty healthy if you put the right things on it. Ranch dressing destroys it. Actually, ranch dressing destroys everything it's on. The fat content is astronomical. Now imagine putting something like that on a sandwich that is already a cardiovascular nightmare. May as well book your triple bypass now.
Personally, I believe American au jus and ranch dressing are a conspiracies cooked up by good people that bring you "insert-any-fad-diet-name-here". I mean, they gotta move those books somehow. And it totally makes sense that not eating bread will make up for sucking down milkshakes for ten years. Right?
Right.
Now, some may be wondering what exactly "au jus" is. Unless you're a food geek, this may not be part of your vernacular. According to Wikipedia, au jus is French for "with [its own] juice". Jus is the juice itself. In French cuisine, jus is a natural way to enhance the flavour of dishes, mainly chicken, veal and lamb.
Sounds good, right? Problem is, Arby's is not exactly a high class dining establishment. Frankly, I'd be surprised if there weren't deep fried critters in with the curly fries or if the special
"seasoning" on them doesn't just come from the fries being dropped on the floor.
More likely than not, the use of the term au jus is clever marketing ploy to make Arby's sandwiches sound yummier and, to the consumer subconscious, fancier.
Yeah, 'cause nothing says "high class" like processed cheese and meat that may or may not actually be roast beef.
Now, don't get me wrong. I like Arby's (but then I also like White Castle, so that's not really saying much). I don't knock them for trying to push their product any way they can. After all, shoving products down the consumer gullet ad nauseum is the American way. The issue I have with the fast food version of au jus is the second part of Wikipedia's definition:
"Often prepared in the United States is a seasoned sauce with several additional flavourings. American recipes au jus often use soy sauce, Worcestershire sauce, salt, pepper, white or brown sugar, garlic, onion, or other ingredients to make something more like a gravy."
The key word there is "gravy". Gravy! Fast food au jus is, in essence, sandwich gravy. Because that's just what a sandwich made of cheese and (alleged) red meat needs, right? Gravy.
I won't pretend like I'm the poster child for healthy eating. . . not unless Ramen, cheesecake and red No. 40 are part of the major food groups now, but there's just something wrong about gravy on a sandwich. Kind of like that bacon cheeseburger made of donuts (here). Bacon cheeseburgers are great. Donuts are great. But they don't belong together.
I mean, you can see through an Arby's bag by the time you get home when there's just a regular sandwich in there. Do we really want to throw gravy into that mix? It's worse that putting ranch dressing on a deli sandwich. A deli sandwich can actually be pretty healthy if you put the right things on it. Ranch dressing destroys it. Actually, ranch dressing destroys everything it's on. The fat content is astronomical. Now imagine putting something like that on a sandwich that is already a cardiovascular nightmare. May as well book your triple bypass now.
Personally, I believe American au jus and ranch dressing are a conspiracies cooked up by good people that bring you "insert-any-fad-diet-name-here". I mean, they gotta move those books somehow. And it totally makes sense that not eating bread will make up for sucking down milkshakes for ten years. Right?
Right.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
The World and the Handbasket Are Already in Hell
Since the epidemic of school and other random shootings in the last ten years, I've heard a lot of people commenting on how the world is "going to hell in a handbasket" i.e. that society is sliding further and further downhill. In fact, it seems to be the general consensus that the 20th century was pretty much the turning point in the whole of human history, triggering tighter restrictions on everything from guns on down. I won't say that all of these were bad. Hell thats what laws are for. Sometimes you really do need to limit people for their own good. What I object to is this notion that the decay of society has only recently begun in the industrial age and in concert with decline of organized religion.
*cue dramatic music* Newsflash: people have been doing random crazy shit for thousands of years. This is not new. Look back through history and you will find many legitimate accounts of everything we have today, serial killers, mass murders etc. It's all been done before. The major differences are the speed with which the media can disseminate news of these sorts of things, thereby making them far more common knowledge than in the past, and the advent of weapons that increase body counts exponentially in a single incident. Other than that, nothing has really changed.
Is the way we did things a hundred years ago, two hundred years ago, three hundred years ago really any different than the way we do things now? Think about it. For a while there, until very recently, everyone thought that we were all so civilized. Now all of a sudden, this is the shittiest that civilization has ever been. Oh really?
You know, once upon time, not so long ago, we had public executions anybody could attend like it was a carnival, bring the kiddies and root the hangman on, take a souvenir.
Over two thousand years ago, it was considered a sport to toss someone in a ring with a lion or other vicious wild animal and watch him die. They built a stadium for it in Rome and thousands of people would come to watch.
Gilles de Rais, Jack the Ripper, Elizabeth Bathory: These are serial killers from the 15th, 19th and 16th centuries. De Rais killed about a hundred people. Elizabeth Bathory killed roughly 600 over a period of 8 or so years. No serial killer in the last 50 years has come close to that body count.
Slavery: enough said. I'm not just talking about Africans in America, but slavery has been an ongoing theme throughout human history. The Jews by the Egyptians, pretty much everyone by Rome. The Greeks had slaves. Viking peoples had slaves. The list goes on and on. Most of us have pretty much agreed that this is wrong, but it continues to this day, having only gone underground so that it's perpetrators can avoid prosecution.
Anyone ever heard the term pederasty? in ancient Greece, this was a relationship between grown men and adolescent boys outside their families that was often sexual. That's right. Greek men cornered the market on child sexual abuse about 2 millennia before Catholic priests.
Genocide: Europeans tried to do it with indigenous American people and the Nazis tried to do it with Jewish people. There is about 500 years between these two occurrences, which are not by any means the only ones. Both are peppered with incidents of mass murder far outstripping anything we've seen in the last 30 years.
These are just a few examples. If anyone lamenting the woes of contemporary society actually took the time to shut up and read a book, they'd see the things that used to happen are pretty much on par with things that happen now. If people think that human life has no value presently, they should take a look at what rich people and people in power could do to someone considered of no consequence, not only do it, but do it and get away it in many instances.
So the next time someone starts whining about not knowing what the world is coming to I'm going to strangle them. I am so tired of hearing that. The world is coming to the same thing its been coming to for about 5000 years.
Where the hell have these people have been living that any of this comes as a surprise?
*cue dramatic music* Newsflash: people have been doing random crazy shit for thousands of years. This is not new. Look back through history and you will find many legitimate accounts of everything we have today, serial killers, mass murders etc. It's all been done before. The major differences are the speed with which the media can disseminate news of these sorts of things, thereby making them far more common knowledge than in the past, and the advent of weapons that increase body counts exponentially in a single incident. Other than that, nothing has really changed.
Is the way we did things a hundred years ago, two hundred years ago, three hundred years ago really any different than the way we do things now? Think about it. For a while there, until very recently, everyone thought that we were all so civilized. Now all of a sudden, this is the shittiest that civilization has ever been. Oh really?
You know, once upon time, not so long ago, we had public executions anybody could attend like it was a carnival, bring the kiddies and root the hangman on, take a souvenir.
Over two thousand years ago, it was considered a sport to toss someone in a ring with a lion or other vicious wild animal and watch him die. They built a stadium for it in Rome and thousands of people would come to watch.
Gilles de Rais, Jack the Ripper, Elizabeth Bathory: These are serial killers from the 15th, 19th and 16th centuries. De Rais killed about a hundred people. Elizabeth Bathory killed roughly 600 over a period of 8 or so years. No serial killer in the last 50 years has come close to that body count.
Slavery: enough said. I'm not just talking about Africans in America, but slavery has been an ongoing theme throughout human history. The Jews by the Egyptians, pretty much everyone by Rome. The Greeks had slaves. Viking peoples had slaves. The list goes on and on. Most of us have pretty much agreed that this is wrong, but it continues to this day, having only gone underground so that it's perpetrators can avoid prosecution.
Anyone ever heard the term pederasty? in ancient Greece, this was a relationship between grown men and adolescent boys outside their families that was often sexual. That's right. Greek men cornered the market on child sexual abuse about 2 millennia before Catholic priests.
Genocide: Europeans tried to do it with indigenous American people and the Nazis tried to do it with Jewish people. There is about 500 years between these two occurrences, which are not by any means the only ones. Both are peppered with incidents of mass murder far outstripping anything we've seen in the last 30 years.
These are just a few examples. If anyone lamenting the woes of contemporary society actually took the time to shut up and read a book, they'd see the things that used to happen are pretty much on par with things that happen now. If people think that human life has no value presently, they should take a look at what rich people and people in power could do to someone considered of no consequence, not only do it, but do it and get away it in many instances.
So the next time someone starts whining about not knowing what the world is coming to I'm going to strangle them. I am so tired of hearing that. The world is coming to the same thing its been coming to for about 5000 years.
Where the hell have these people have been living that any of this comes as a surprise?
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
S-y-F-y? W-T-F?!
I am a geek. I make no bones about. I love all things geek. Star Trek, Star Wars, comic book movies, Sword and Sorcery fantasy novels, World of Warcraft, anime . . . I could go on.
This love of all thing dorky, of course extends to SciFi movies and t.v. shows. One of my staple channels for this genre of geekery is the Sci Fi Channel. . . or it used to be, anyway. That changed right around the time the network changed to the spelling of it's name to SyFy. That's right. S-y-F-y. They are basically spelling it phonetically now. And to that I say "wtf?!"
Perhaps I 'm making a stereotypical generalization here, but most geeks tend to be intelligent people. Hell, some of them are highly intelligent. Think Bill Gates or Stephen Hawking. These are two of the most famous nerds in the world and they're filthy ass rich from being ridiculously smart.
That being said, I do think that either one of them, or any other geek, would know the correct spelling of the abbreviation for science fiction. So why the hell would the good people over at the SciFi channel purposely seek to spell it incorrectly? My only guess as to the reasoning behind this is in order to attract a more mainstream audience; to make the name cool and hip so that the ratings "in" crowd watches the channel.
I have just one question: since when is it cool and hip to be illiterate? Is the network gearing up to become the BET of science fiction? Seriously, their original movies were always godawful. But I for one was willing to let such classics as Mansquito slide because there were good reruns and original series. Hell, they were even occasionally able to get a hold of a good movie or two. But this ridiculous name change is enough to drive me away from the channel completely. I cringe every time I see it. Who's dumb ass idea was it to attract one audience by completely alienating another?
Forget for a second that spelling SciFi phonetically is an insult to my and many other peoples' intelligence, but what the hell does that say about what the network thinks of the mainstream viewership? Do we have a nation of George W. Bushs out there trying to figure out what the want to watch on Friday night? Newflash: they probably don't want to watch Battlestar Galactica.
The channel was designed to attract a niche audience, that niche being. . . wait for it. . . geeks! That was the whole point. Everything isn't for everyone. Take the show Frasier. It was a spin-off of Cheers featuring the Frasier Crane character and his family. I'll admit, it had its high-toned moments and not everyone liked it. That was partially because it was intelligent humor and sometimes you would miss the jokes if you weren't familiar with a particular reference. But that was alright. Because the show had a target audience that loved it just the way it was.
If the SciFi is having a problem with attracting core geek audiences maybe they need to pick up some more viable geek fare instead of taking the low road of just trying to pull in any and everyone.
There used to be great reruns on the SciFi Channel. Dark Shadows, Quantum Leap, the original Star Trek, Forever Knight. Now, for some reason, ECW is on there. What the HELL does ECW have to do with science fiction?! What's next? NASCAR? Don't get me wrong. NASCAR is fine for whoever enjoys it. But it doesn't belong anywhere in the vicinity of Eureka and Ghost Hunters.
The SciFi channel has been going downhill for a while. This name change might just be the last straw for me. I don't want to abandon it, but. . . damn. If Chiller ever gets its shit together I'm out. As much as I want my geek fix, I'm not willing to lower my IQ to get it.
This love of all thing dorky, of course extends to SciFi movies and t.v. shows. One of my staple channels for this genre of geekery is the Sci Fi Channel. . . or it used to be, anyway. That changed right around the time the network changed to the spelling of it's name to SyFy. That's right. S-y-F-y. They are basically spelling it phonetically now. And to that I say "wtf?!"
Perhaps I 'm making a stereotypical generalization here, but most geeks tend to be intelligent people. Hell, some of them are highly intelligent. Think Bill Gates or Stephen Hawking. These are two of the most famous nerds in the world and they're filthy ass rich from being ridiculously smart.
That being said, I do think that either one of them, or any other geek, would know the correct spelling of the abbreviation for science fiction. So why the hell would the good people over at the SciFi channel purposely seek to spell it incorrectly? My only guess as to the reasoning behind this is in order to attract a more mainstream audience; to make the name cool and hip so that the ratings "in" crowd watches the channel.
I have just one question: since when is it cool and hip to be illiterate? Is the network gearing up to become the BET of science fiction? Seriously, their original movies were always godawful. But I for one was willing to let such classics as Mansquito slide because there were good reruns and original series. Hell, they were even occasionally able to get a hold of a good movie or two. But this ridiculous name change is enough to drive me away from the channel completely. I cringe every time I see it. Who's dumb ass idea was it to attract one audience by completely alienating another?
Forget for a second that spelling SciFi phonetically is an insult to my and many other peoples' intelligence, but what the hell does that say about what the network thinks of the mainstream viewership? Do we have a nation of George W. Bushs out there trying to figure out what the want to watch on Friday night? Newflash: they probably don't want to watch Battlestar Galactica.
The channel was designed to attract a niche audience, that niche being. . . wait for it. . . geeks! That was the whole point. Everything isn't for everyone. Take the show Frasier. It was a spin-off of Cheers featuring the Frasier Crane character and his family. I'll admit, it had its high-toned moments and not everyone liked it. That was partially because it was intelligent humor and sometimes you would miss the jokes if you weren't familiar with a particular reference. But that was alright. Because the show had a target audience that loved it just the way it was.
If the SciFi is having a problem with attracting core geek audiences maybe they need to pick up some more viable geek fare instead of taking the low road of just trying to pull in any and everyone.
There used to be great reruns on the SciFi Channel. Dark Shadows, Quantum Leap, the original Star Trek, Forever Knight. Now, for some reason, ECW is on there. What the HELL does ECW have to do with science fiction?! What's next? NASCAR? Don't get me wrong. NASCAR is fine for whoever enjoys it. But it doesn't belong anywhere in the vicinity of Eureka and Ghost Hunters.
The SciFi channel has been going downhill for a while. This name change might just be the last straw for me. I don't want to abandon it, but. . . damn. If Chiller ever gets its shit together I'm out. As much as I want my geek fix, I'm not willing to lower my IQ to get it.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Dear Daytime T.V. . .
I don't know quite how to say this. We've been together for a long time, but. . . . I think it's time we went our separate ways. Wait. . . . let me finish.
I remember when I first saw you. In second grade, the teacher used to bring the t.v. into the classroom so we could watch Sesame Street while we ate lunch. I think that's when it began, when I started to fall in love with you. Then there were all those youthful summers when I discovered everything you had to offer: gameshows, soap operas, 8 gazillion talk shows, reruns of classic t.v. During the school year, I used to look forward to holidays and sick days where we could spend time together; just you, me and Jerry Springer.
But lately, Daytime t.v.. . . . . you've changed. I don't feel like I know you at all anymore. *sigh* I guess it all began when the soap operas started recycling story lines. I was willing to let that slide and did for quite a while. I mean, we've been together so long, Daytime t.v,. and relationships are all about give and take. I figured that you were just going through a rough patch and I just needed to hang in there while you took some time to get yourself together.
Then every Maury Povich Show started being about paternity test results. I really wasn't happy about that, but I didn't know how to tell you. I guess you thought you were doing the right thing and giving me what I wanted. I didn't want to hurt your feelings.
But, Daytime t.v., when Bob Barker retired from The Price is Right, I knew we had a problem. It was like you didn't care what I wanted, like you were going to do any old thing you pleased and to hell with me.
It was all down hill from there what with the proliferation of courtroom shows and random B-list celebrity talk shows. There are no more cartoons in the afternoons. Mr. Rogers is gone AND you changed the theme song to Sesame Street. Wtf? Also, who in hell is Judge Karen? It's not like there aren't enough judges already. What's happening to you, Daytime t.v.?!
*Cry* I thought long and hard about this decision before I made it. After much soul searching, I truly think it's the right thing to do. I just don't care about you the way I used to anymore. I love you but I'm not IN love with you. We're different people now and it's time we moved on from each other. I-I. . . . I'm seeing Netflix now.
I know you may not wanna hear this, but you'll find someone else. Someone who'll love you the way you deserve to be loved. Please don't make this harder for me by begging. Yes, I know Inside Edition is still on, but that's just not good enough for me anymore. We can still be friends. I'll come by and see you every now and again.
For now, I just want to remember the good times. . . . The Bozo Show, Jenny Jones, Let's Make a Deal, Oprah (when she was good). . . .
Trust me, it's better this way.
I remember when I first saw you. In second grade, the teacher used to bring the t.v. into the classroom so we could watch Sesame Street while we ate lunch. I think that's when it began, when I started to fall in love with you. Then there were all those youthful summers when I discovered everything you had to offer: gameshows, soap operas, 8 gazillion talk shows, reruns of classic t.v. During the school year, I used to look forward to holidays and sick days where we could spend time together; just you, me and Jerry Springer.
But lately, Daytime t.v.. . . . . you've changed. I don't feel like I know you at all anymore. *sigh* I guess it all began when the soap operas started recycling story lines. I was willing to let that slide and did for quite a while. I mean, we've been together so long, Daytime t.v,. and relationships are all about give and take. I figured that you were just going through a rough patch and I just needed to hang in there while you took some time to get yourself together.
Then every Maury Povich Show started being about paternity test results. I really wasn't happy about that, but I didn't know how to tell you. I guess you thought you were doing the right thing and giving me what I wanted. I didn't want to hurt your feelings.
But, Daytime t.v., when Bob Barker retired from The Price is Right, I knew we had a problem. It was like you didn't care what I wanted, like you were going to do any old thing you pleased and to hell with me.
It was all down hill from there what with the proliferation of courtroom shows and random B-list celebrity talk shows. There are no more cartoons in the afternoons. Mr. Rogers is gone AND you changed the theme song to Sesame Street. Wtf? Also, who in hell is Judge Karen? It's not like there aren't enough judges already. What's happening to you, Daytime t.v.?!
*Cry* I thought long and hard about this decision before I made it. After much soul searching, I truly think it's the right thing to do. I just don't care about you the way I used to anymore. I love you but I'm not IN love with you. We're different people now and it's time we moved on from each other. I-I. . . . I'm seeing Netflix now.
I know you may not wanna hear this, but you'll find someone else. Someone who'll love you the way you deserve to be loved. Please don't make this harder for me by begging. Yes, I know Inside Edition is still on, but that's just not good enough for me anymore. We can still be friends. I'll come by and see you every now and again.
For now, I just want to remember the good times. . . . The Bozo Show, Jenny Jones, Let's Make a Deal, Oprah (when she was good). . . .
Trust me, it's better this way.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
