Marathon Madness

Once upon a time, the fates got together and conspired to make a special day. This day is April 20th, which this year happened to fall on a Monday. And not just any Monday... but Marathon Monday.

For those of you who do not (or have never) lived in the Greater Boston area, this is the day of the Boston Marathon. While some athletes work toward this moment their entire lives... the rest of us use this as an excuse to drink and party. The day is even called "Patriot's Day," but no one observes April 20th for that purpose.

This year, we have the distinct pleasure of not only dealing with hundreds of thousands of belligerent drunks, but also pot-heads as 4/20 is pretty much their holy day. Throw skinheads (today is Hitler's birthday) and psychos (today is also the Columbine anniversary), and you have a full cast of shenanigans just itching to happen.

I want to point out that I am lame. While festivities were raging, I was sitting around sober. I'm also in our school's computer lab doing homework now... at 6:20 in the afternoon.

Happy Marathon Monday, world.

A tool grows in Brooklyn

My roommate is phail. He's in our business school, and he's a complete and utter tool.
To add insult to injury, he is the least self-aware person I know.

I realize this every afternoon when I get back from class. He listens to über-ghetto, hardcore rap that he knows less than half the words of... and tries to sing along in his tone-deaf, milk-toast white voice.

Note: He's an extreme conversative. I.e. He's a minority-hating, baby-killing, ghetto-abhoring, poverty-indifferent toolbox who speaks in ebonics and literally calls himself "gangsta'."

Skin-check.


P.s. Rainman and I have begun speaking again. While still awkward, I think it's slowly on the road to recovery. Ever so slowly.

Rainman goes insane

Apparently, Rainman reads my blog(s). He doesn't like the content. He sends angry texts. How about a snippet, yes, in response to my blog posting:

You're a complete idiot and clearly didn't listen to anything I said to you the other night. Don't bother coming over tonight.

I get this while I'm freaking out in a midterm. Awesome. So I text him back for context, argue a little, and then call him. He proceeds to lay these little gems on me:

"You know, it's a matter of class" (which I apparently don't have), "I wasn't mad at you - I expected this of you... if you were 'emotionally developed' you would have known better," and "I don't want either of you coming over ever anyway."

So that's it. This man, who I still love, and who has always been the rational, calm, selfless center to my life... has lost his mind. He's driven over the deep end. He's gone insane.

I would expect such a reaction out of me - I'm ridiculously impetuous and irrational. But I never though that Rainman would ever show himself to be, dare I say it... selfish.

Ugh - why do the ones I actually want in my life turn out to be such divas.


I pulled him off my facebook, AIM list, contact list, etc. I don't want to bother him anymore if he's going to insult me.

Really, I'm kind of getting ready to cry into a pint of ice cream in my room for a while. The things he said... I don't know what I'm going to do.

Apparently Twitch hasn't seen this side of Rainman. Someone better warn him.

The right to remain silent

I have written on this before, perhaps, but I want to highlight it again: I can't stand when certain people talk to you. As I just got a haircut, the theme of my frustration is barbershops.

On the one hand, I get it. They must be lonely. Working all day, cutting people's hair. Plus, they probably assume that we, the customers, are looking for that fifteen minutes of riveting conversation with a stranger we probably won't remember in ten minutes.

On the other hand, I have definitely had the same barber three or four times in a row, and they ask the same questions every time. Conclusion? They aren't really listening - they are talking to fill gaps of blissful, otherwise wonderful silence.

Thankfully, I know who to get. The shop I go to has two barbers that I will work with and two I will not. I cleverly work my way around the two chatterboxes to get to these other two, less-known stylists.

They're both foreign, and they don't speak English. The way God intended it.

Thanks Adsense

I do not like Google Ads right now. They have been scanning my blog and came up with the following five titles when I looked just now:

• 2009 Cute Kid of the Year
  
• Make Out with Girls
  
• Fix Your Marriage
  
• Stumble
  
• Plus Size Intimate Wear

So apparently Google wisely reasoned that I'm an adorably fat heterosexual going through marital problems.

... half right.

Stumbled Upon, Part I

So I've been using StumbleUpon.com as my remedy to the disease that is productivity.

I am starting this new series to share with you some of the worst things that I've "stumbled upon" during the many hours I surf around the internet. I insist that you go to that website now and start falling around the internet, just like me.

Here we go - this seemed "appropriate" to start with:


How. Freaking. Disturbing.

I am so creeped out by that; as an Asian I can say this with documented evidence: Asian people are f'cking weird.

Over-compensating

I'm having difficulty understanding a few things about love. This crazy emotion obviously makes otherwise normal people act like idiots. This isn't a bad thing; it's an awesome state to be in. Love it (pun intended).

There has been a resurgence, I think, of accepted PDA. I'm not just talking about making out in the street or holding hands. That's still relatively tame.

I'm talking about the plague of facebook, AIM, MSN, Skype, Twitter, and other internet-based examples of public affection. It's not enough that straight and gay people alike are in love and happy; they have to show the rest of us how happy they are.

My straight friend, Pookie (a name his girlfriend gave him - not me), is dating a girl named "Schnookie." I'm pretty sure her name is actually Emily or Elizabeth, but "Schnookie" is all I've ever known her as. For all I know, it's on her birth certificate. The future Mr. and Mrs. Pookie.


I compare it to a similar rise in design-cakes. I don't know how this fad came about, but apparently having a regular cake wasn't good enough. Also, this is a much bigger market (so I'm told) than I thought. Chefs actually attend culinary school for the sole purpose of becoming cake designers, knowing that idiots-in-love will drop any amount on a cake in the shape of the Chrysler building.

It's no long enough to be simply over the top with your confections, nor your affections. They have to be completely out there and outlandish, where everyone can see them. We (everybody else) are to remark at how happy you are and agree with you.


Attention couples! Important news, and I have this on good authority from the single-world: We don't fucking care.

Your happiness is awesome, but please... some of you couples are giving the rest of us diabetes with your relationship. My throat is closing up. I'm having an asthma attack.

Keep it to yourself, kthxbai.

Benefits of opposable thumbs

Apparently there is a feces-throwing monkey loose in Tampa Bay. That's always fascinated me - monkeys are so clever. It's the weapon-equivalent of renewable fuel, and they are showing an obvious adeptness for using "tools."

I hope they hit lots of beach-people. I'm sensing a much-improved Girls Gone Wild video this year. Mmmm... scat.

*wretch*

Stop being a child

I'm ticked off at Rainman. He's been ignoring me for days. I think he got upset because I went on a date the other day with FitRec. I get that he's my ex, but that's hardly an excuse to act like a petulant child.

Honestly - grow up. Talk to me; tell me when you're upset. That's what we fully functioning adults do.

Over the top, much?

So... yesterday in Borders, I was walking through the magazine section, and I noticed three different Barack Obama periodicals. As in entire magazines of color pictures and "inspirational" quotes.

One of said magazines was Issue 58, meaning there are 57 other issues of similar "inspirational" overkill floating about out there.

Really, America? Really? Have we sunk to this level?

Fucking friends

God, Sean is pissing me off.

For someone that has spent so much time supposedly (his words, not mine) trying to move past the fact that we used to hook up, he has a funny way of getting ticked off about it still.

I've gotten the vibe from him that we can't ever be friends - he's cold when we talk online, he was cold when we went to the club, and he was cold when we were at his house/in my car. He's just... cold.

I guess he doesn't want to know me anymore. So I suppose fine - I won't push it. I'll give him three days to change his fucking attitude, and then I'm unfriending him on facebook and removing his screenname from my buddy list.

I don't need to deal with people's shit, especially when I'm making an effort to be his bud.

Sex isn't supposed to ruin everything, tard.

Post-split II: Steps to recovery

Ladies, listen up - take it from the master:

When you do depression or have regular sad days (which are more frequent in the North now that the Sun is barely up at all), do it right. Take this - part two to theKnow-it-all guide to getting over him/her/it:

1. First, put down the spoon and step away from the Haagen-Dazs. Frozen yogurt, carrot sticks, pretzels (watch the salt)... all these are better for you. Now that you're alone, you'll probably want to be skinny. No one likes a fatty, and by now, there's a good chance that you are one.

2. Second, this is the perfect time for an eating disorder. Going to the gym is time consuming, and you need all the hours you can to sit home and cry. Cry a lot - it's good for you. Since you won't be going to the gym, and as even frozen yogurt can go straight to your hips, purge frequently.

P.s. Pro-tip: Use Febreze in the bathroom after to freshen.

3. Finally, for now, spend a lot of time by yourself. Some say use other people as healthy distractions from your pain, but if you're like me, you probably got yourself into trouble by being too friendly with people anyway.

Try wallowing in your misery for a while. This will not only give you lots of time to think about what you did (like a child's time-out!), but it will probably make you sad enough to really do step two well enough. Pair sadness with purging - match made in heaven.


That's all for now - try my proven method of getting over men. It worked for me - I shed even more weight after I lost my guy than before I did. You can even see my ribs - fun!

Good luck, ladies/gentleman/undecided, and happy binge-purging!

A tree grows in my vestibule

Literally, there is a tree in my vestibule. Of course, it's been stripped, bleached, dyed, and bound into these otherwise useless phone books, but hot damn, it's still a tree!

I hear the internet is losing steam and people are flocking back to "the good 'ole" methods of communication. Letter writing and newspapers are in - blogs (oh no!) and emails are out.

Just as the 80s have unfortunately returned in popular fashions and music, so too have these remnants of a bygone era come back to haunt us. I'm thinking about exchanging my energy-saving car for a gas-guzzling American car and moving out to a suburb - God's land!


To be honest, though, were I not a sarcastic bitch, I probably would have picked up one of those phone books just to say I owned one.

Too soon? Uh uh!

Anna Nicole Smith - I miss her... she was so batsh*t crazy in her day. Many thanks to the swarthy gentlemen (heh) who reminded me of this.

Newcomer gays, give respect where it is due. This woman defined an era (the late nineties) as a woman who defined the odds, thus paving the way for millions of girls to sell their bodies for money and grow up to be whores. She is the American dream - she saw something she wanted (which definitely wasn't her late husband), and she got it.

Her struggle in court for her husband's money was spectacular. All should note that she was wronged by not receiving the Emmy that year for Best Performance in a Trial when her greedy in laws tried to take back her hard earned money.

She made it okay to be insane, to lose weight on the revolutionary Trimspa/crack diet, and to make money by whatever means necessary. Every slut with her ankles in the air owes this pioneer a debt of gratitude.

Honey, here and now, I salute her for outstanding contributions to moral society in this country. God speed, kiddo.

I can has silent haircut?

There are those that really like getting the chatty, outgoing barber, but I am not among them. When I am sitting there getting my hair cut, I want to just sit there and chill out without having to be conversational and interesting for a half-hour.

It's especially annoying because I know that the conversation is superficial, unappealing, and habitual. It's not worth the energy to put forward a substance-less discussion. Service-industries have a new slogan: "The customer is always right conversational:

Barber: How do you feel about __________? It's good, right?
Me: Eh, I don't really care for it all that much.
Barber: Yeah, me neither.
Me: I especially don't like __________.
Barber: I totally agree; it sucks.


So yes - to all barbers of the world: I don't want to discuss sports with you, class schedules, or my family life. You are unlikely to remember my name, let alone my major and my personal problems.

Silence is golden, kthxbai.

Blasphemy on Christmas!

I have been an avid-Christmas support for a long while. The only holiday that beats it is Black Friday. I know all the carols and sing them often. So you can see why I was surprised to find a non-secular verse in a Santa-based song:

He doesn't care if you're a rich or poor boy,
He loves you just the same.
Santa knows that we're god's children,
That makes everything right.
Fill your hears with christmas cheer,
'cause santa claus comes tonight.

It's the weirdest mix of the secular and religious that I've ever seen. I'm kind of disconcerted by those lines being there, especially because I didn't notice that they were there for this long. It's like subliminal messaging!

God damn it, Christmas is about consumerism and toys. The holiday should have nothing to do with religion, after all! Leave God out of it for Christ's sake!

Spell-check, people

I've been meaning to put this up for a while. These icons of academic excellence have been popping up all over campus. It's a plague of stupidity, and there is no known cure.

Symptoms: The inability to spell, think, or reason, lazy eye, day-dreaming, foolishness, and outbreaks of hives.

Treatments: Common prescriptions have proven quite ineffective. Subjects can ease their symptoms by infrequently picking up books, spell-checking, etc. Side effects may include unintended infusions of intelligence.

See your doctor immediately if you think you're showing signs of stupidity as it can/should be fatal.

Have your cake and eat it, too

Obese have right to 2 airline seats
Thu Nov 20, 2:31 pm ET, Yahoo! News

OTTAWA (Reuters) – Obese people have the right to two seats for the price of one on flights within Canada, the Supreme Court of Canada ruled on Thursday.

The high court declined to hear an appeal by Canadian airlines of a decision by the Canadian Transportation Agency that people who are "functionally disabled by obesity" deserve to have two seats for one fare.

So we are now rewarding people for letting themselves go? That'd be like putting free Playstations in prisons because prisoners have the right to a good time.

Simple supply and demand - if two seats are available, and there is the possibility of making twice as much money from two people as they would from one gigantic person... the airline should be able to serve its own interest and make more money.

Plus, they would save the extra fuel cost they now must suffer to service an obese person and the forty-seven Twinkies they have stashed in their carry-on bag.

Eureka! I've got it!

Breaking News: The New York Times is reporting that Gay rights activists used the internet to organize their rallies this past weekend against Proposition 8.

Well... yeah. So?

If this blog and the many like it have taught you anything... know that we, as a community, do know how to use email and check blogs. I'm almost offended at how the article was written - as if we homos got up one day and the internet suddenly made complete sense to us.

*facepalm*

Dear God

To whom it may concern,

Your followers, seriously, need to back the fuck off. They are starting to piss the rest of us off.

Signed,
The rest of us

P.s. Tell them that people are more willing to listen to their fanciful stories of ridiculousness if they didn't belligerently offend us to our faces, criticize every facet of our being, and then expect us to pay them close attention.

P.p.s. Remind them to stop showing us all our faithful they are. If they're going to be religious, there is a fine line between being proud and being boastful.