Love Poem #98

I’ve decided to be very mad at my Theatre teacher starting right about… now. In a show of extreme immaturity, I threw a hissy fit because she refused to let me perform a certain one act of my choice, titled Love Poem #98 (by Regina Taylor, if you’re curious). Mind you, it was very well written, and falls under what you would call “powerful”. I would think that she would appreciate good art, but she would not accept it on the basis that it was not “appropriate” for all audiences. She just didn’t like it because it happened to include a phrase or two along the lines of a nine year old getting raped and a guy trying to carve his initials into a girl’s chest and whathaveyou… I think she’s just extremely squemish. Can’t stomach that kind of thing. Well, guess what, honey, you’re in the theatre business. And if you’re okay with doing La Cage aux Folles, you gotta learn to be okay with doing a one-act about a chick who’s had an… interesting past. Just saying. By the way, if  anyone manages to get an online copy of the one act, I would love it if you could send it to me somehow. 

Best Buy sold me a cheap case so that my iPod would get scratched… cheapskates.

So I just about found a way to hate my new iPod on 35 different levels. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I’m not grateful to have one (and a new one at that). It’s just that it’s turning out to be a disappointment. Reasons why: 1)It’s not an iPhone 2)It’s fragile 3)The keyboard sucks 4)It shuts down on me all the time. Now, I know that the people who read this (or lack thereof) will probably (want to) scream in my face: “Are you stupid? Of course it’s not an iPhone, it’s an iPod.” Yes, but it’s an iPod touch. You see, when I went to Best Buy to replace my old nano (which was a waste of money, since I only used it three or four times a year, and I had it for two years), the salesman told me that the internet worked exactly the same way as the iPhone. I was like, aright, cool, I’ll get it, because I don’t need a new phone, but I my warrantee lets me get a new iPod. So I paid 50 bucks, and got a new iPod that apparently had internet capacity. But here’s the thing: You can’t get WiFi everywhere you go. Yeah, I know that you can only get it wherever there are Wireless Networks, but I figured I could just pick up signal and go. I got the signal in some places, but then I had to put in a password, or (in the case of my school) I had to deal with a stupid block in the server. Meaning, I couldn’t get to my e-mail or chat or whatnot. Disappointment? I think so. I would’ve paid a hundred bucks more ($150 total, plus $60 warrantee) and gotten the iPhone, just to get unrestricted Internet access everywhere. So, at the moment, me = pissed. Other problems: Second week I’ve had it, and the screen (made of glass) has alreadya scratch and case (polycarbonate) is already scratched like hell. That’s just great. JUST great. Don’t buy at Best Buy.

Walt D. and the he-she-devil

Watching television with a two-year old that I was trying to put to sleep, I came upon a segment of a Disney movie that involved Donald Duck strangling a mechanical Santa Claus (among other mechanical Christmas-related characters) in a hot chocolate-deprived rage. As Daisy Duck would say, “Donald, this is a new low, even for you.” Burned! (Forgive the pun… get it, hot chocolate, burned, haha…) Yeah, well. Disney is making their characters violent and mean and what have you… I mean, Mickey kicked Pluto out of the house! Mark my words, there’s going to be murder in Disneyland next, and I mean the kind that you  saw in the Lion King… that was one disturbing movie… (based on Hamlet, apparently)… Scar-ring (forgive the pun… again)SPEAKING of scarring (or scary)… what is Hilary Clinton thinks it’s doing by winning the NH caucus? That she-man scared the bejesus out of me by just speaking on the news! Asbestos pantsuit, don’t make me laugh…(I did, though)… He-she is so incredibly politically incorrect it makes me cringe. Mark my words, if she becomes president (which I don’t think she actually will), I will leave the US and go to find  the city of the Aztecs to participate in the ancient and cruel ritual of human sacrifice. It’s better than living under the rule of the evil Devil-he-woman Hilary Clinton. Just kidding. But I will do my best to get out of here. (On an inner tube, perhaps?)(Post script: I thoroughly enjoy the way a post that began with Disney movies and two-year olds ended with the ancient practice of human sacrifice. It’s all in good fun.)

HOORAY [insert random noun here]!

Hooray Christmas! And other such winter holidays! Last day before the last week before I get to almost enjoy 19 semi-lengthy days of not-quite-but-almost-relaxation in a city where it feels just downright geographically wrong to have Christmas. Um, yay? Gimme a smile.

Red Stripe commercials make me laugh. A lot. They’re so random. Sometimes they get a bit long. But my absolute favorite thing about thing about them is their tagline: BOO [noun#1], HOORAY [noun#2]! Jeez. It’s so… straightforward. Like, other companies make these huge elaborate commercials, but no, they just go out there and just… say it. It’s… original. HOORAY DANCING JAMAICAN DUDE! Yay.

If I was Jewish, I would use a cannabis-etched Zippo to light my Menorah

I am proud to say that I have gotten a grand total of somewhat less than 10 hours of sleep since Sunday night. I have gone to bed at 2:30 am or later every night (or morning) since Sunday, and wake up at 6… So I wake feeling more than slightly homicidal. And not to mention cold. It’s cold in the morning. In Orlando. That is wrong. For SOOOOOOO many reasons. Not the least of which is the fact that we’re expecting to get an 81 degree high on December 12th… come on. During the days, the highs are mid 70’s to lower 80’s. At night, it’s in the 40’s. What’s up with that?

So I’m downtown today and I’m stuck in traffic with V. for about 30 minutes at a stoplight before we can get anywhere near the I-4. Anyways, while we drive by, I see this big-ass menorah (though not as big as the one off of Rockville Pike)  and a whole bunch of people around it. And it makes me think: Damnit! I wish I was Jewish, too! Those lucky fuckers get to have eight nights of presents while us  Christians only get one!  And we have to get them perverted priests, too!

Which is not to say that I want to be Jewish because of presents or their lack of pedophilically-inclined clergy, but I’m just saying… that must be pretty damn cool holiday.

(Post script: I really hope this wasn’t offensive to anyone…)

Am I the only person who gets freaked out by department store Santa Clauses?

Christmas is a pretty cool holiday. You get lots of nice things, and all you have to do is give other people things of the same caliber. Then you get to eat a nice big dinner and play nice happy games and watch family movies and so forth. The whole family’s together, because everybody, I mean everybody gets Christmas holidays off. Everyone goes to sleep late and super excited, because Santa Clause (!!!!!)  is coming the next day. And then you get really nice surprises, hooray.

Um, yay?

Well, it sounds nice on the cover, doesn’t it? But then comes the bad part. When you have to work until the day before Christmas, even if your learning institution lets you out a week earlier. Or if you are a professional, but you only get Christmas eve and day off. Or if you have a weird family. Or if your family fights when they get together. Or ifyou have no family at all. Or worst of all, if you get crap-ass presents. Even worse, you get crap-ass presents even though you gave everyone else really nice ones. And Santa Clause? Hahaha. Hohoho. Yeah, that was ruined for you when you were, what five?

Is it actually possible to have the perfect Christmas? I don’t mean in the movies or whatever, I mean in real life. That movie, Miracle on 32nd Street or 34th Street or whatever hell it was on… damn, the ending pissed me off. The little girl didn’t believe in Santa… because he isn’t real! I’m sorry if you’ve been taught to believe that he is, and as you are reading this, your bubble is slowly being burst, but sorry, it had to happen some time.  How very disappointing. I do believe that Christmas is a lovely holiday, but I think that it’s not completely perfect.

For one, there’s the fact that it’s been commercialized like hell. Christmas is about… toys, right? Like Tickle-Me-Elmo? And Kay’s Jewelers? Because if someone loves me, they’ll get me something special for Christmas. And I should do the same, because I love them. HELL, NO, BITCH! CHRISTMAS IS ABOUT JESUS, YOU IDIOTS! It isn’t about some stupid ass presents and a tree you decorate and a dinner and a nice warm house! Hell, no! Jesus! He was born in a frickin’ stable, for God’s sakes! There were gifts, yeah, but that’s because he was THE KING OF HEAVEN. Hello! Um, I don’t think that we are anywhere close to what he was, so how can we compare our “gift-giving” to the Wise Men’s exchange? And the tree? Oh, Lord. The tree. I did not see a tree in any of the nativity scenes in my Bible. I’m sure there were trees around somewhere, but… evergreens? O-Kay. Obviously, this was not derived from the nativity scene. As for all the Christmas dinner and preparation and whatnot in your nice warm house: Jesus and his family were outside in a stable. Joseph and Mary were tired. For all I know, they were hungry, too. I didn’t see any turkeys or mashed potatoes or cheesecake lying around. And Santa Claus? He was most decidedly nowhere to be found in the manger.

So there you have it. That is my analysis on the Christmas holiday. At least for now. And yet, in spite of it all, I have bought a projecter to display holiday-themed images on my garage at night, a $60 wreath that I will put up for about 3 days before Christmas, 3 indoor Christmas trees, a large nutcracker, countless CD’s of christmas music, a red and green outfit for a Christmas day party, and a light up indoor snowman. Not to mention the insane amount of ornaments that I have amassed over the years.

So you see, all of us has a little hypocrite living inside. And if you can’t tell by that… Just look at the background I have on right now.

(Post script: It does bother me that it is very warm down here and it is December… I somehow find that wrong. It’s even worse that it’s already snowing up north.)

Today.

Should I be concerned by the fact that I spent 40 minutes straightening my hair last night and that my main concern right now is that my shoes don’t fit right? These haven’t been concerns of mine for the past God-knows-how-many years of my life, but somehow, the thing that has been nagging me for over the past hour is the fact that- Oh, God- my shoes may be too small. I’m usually a size bigger, but today… today is a size smaller. And that bothers me. Tomorrow I’m going to wake up and smack myself but… not today.

This post doesn’t even merit a title.

I was about to pull an all-nighter (and for no reason, too), when I realized that I’m going to a concert this weekend. Come Monday I’m going to be slumped over my desk like a…. a something on a something. I can’t even think of analogies… or similies… or whatever.

Hide & Seek

I like Andy Samberg; I think he’s a cool guy. I think he’s pretty talented, he’s done rather well in his career, I’d say that he’s got it going on. But one thing I have to say is that Andy Samberg has one fucked up sense of humor. The first digital short of his that I remember seeing was the Chronicles of Narnia rap. That was nice and clean (”Snack attack, MOTHA*****!” didn’t offend anyone, it was bleeped out). But then shit started getting weird. Like the lettuce commercial. What’s up with that? And the doppelgänger thing? I do find people getting punched in the face right before they eat pretty damn funny (don’t ask me why- maybe it’s some weird part of human psychology that likes seeing pain. Kind of like slapstick humor, but crueler). But I tonight I realized that he can get pretty extreme. I was watching the Dear Sister/The Shooting digital short for the third time today (and it was still funny) when G. walked in and started watching, too. He didn’t think it was funny. He thought it was messed up and sick and that Samberg was on pot or ecstasy. I wouldn’t go that far, I just think he’s a little weird. Maybe more than a little. Maybe really weird. Ok, he’s pretty fucked up. That’s kind of a screwey sense of humor, don’t you think? I mean, who thinks of a video of people shooting each other and then coming back to life to shoot each other again? Is it just me or is that weird? It didn’t seem so funny in a way, because I suddenly realized that this was actually a serious matter, that people died in the clip (or were supposed to). But then it got even funnier, because I laughed at myself for taking the deaths seriously and taking G. seriously and I thought the clip was hilarious. Although it’s not so funny anymore (probably because I’ve seen it about eight times in the past two or three days).

What I wonder is if anybody actually notices how much violence there is in Andy’s skits. I mean, seriously. Doppelgänger, Andy gets shot (and ambiguously disappears, presumably dead); Dear Sister, everyone shoots each other (multiple times in some cases) and then dies; People Getting Punched In The Face Just Before Eating… the name says it all… plus, the murder scene. I’m not saying that I mind all this; I laugh at it all just as much as the next person, if not more. But I’m just saying, isn’t that kind of sick? And what about Roy Rules? That’s downright hilarious and non-violent but it’s messed up the way he talks about Roy. It’s not like most of us haven’t talked about people of the opposite (or maybe same) sex like that at least once in our lives, but still… what does all this say about our society as a whole? That it’s slowly, slowly going down the drain? (But that would also be the politicians’ fault) Don’t get me wrong. Andy Samberg is awesome (and he shares S.’s sense of humor, which is highly entertaining, but also can be really bad). But I just think that he should cut down on the killing for a while. Or at least make it less extreme.

Damn. I really hope that didn’t sound too serious or philosophical.

Gotta catch ‘em all!

I feel slightly ashamed of myself, and it’s not just because I’m not doing what I should be doing. I know that in about two hours I’m going to do a presentation that I am only half-way through, and it’s not even well done. This is bad. This is very bad. I don’t know what I’m going to do about this, because I’ve got about a half an hour to finish four slides on L’Encyclopedie by Diderot and D’Alembert. Don’t correct me if I spelled it wrong, I’m nervous and I can’t handle criticism. But back to my shame. It goes deeper than bad spelling and dreadful procrastination. Oh, no, it’s something that I can’t articulate in public. It’s about… pokemon.

See? I can’t even capitalize it. That’s how bad it is. I have a confession to make: I sang the Pokemon theme song with L. this morning. That’s not even what’s shameful. (Although singing it is pretty embarassing). No. What’s embarrassing is that I actually remember it. How could I? How long has it been since it first came out? I had so many little Pokemon cartriges… My special edition Pokemon yellow GameBoy… BUT I REMEMBER THE SONG! That is so wrong! That is wrong on so many levels! That is not right! I feel like I should crawl under this table.

Oh, well. Maybe the shame will disappear. Much unlike the shame of being found out about my Superman boxers. Now that’s embarassing.