You’ve Been PWNED You Weak-ass nOOb.

March 28, 2007 at 2:20 pm (Mass Media)

Video Games…always seemed like a sport that I just didn’t know how to play. Yeah that’s right…I’m a weak little noob.
Back in the days of the original Nintendo, and the original Super Mario games, I was the queen, I was the one that messed with the weak little noobs. I lived and breathed that f-ing game…but, as those controllers got more and more complex, I consequently became less and less interested. I only have 10 fingers…don’t ask so much of me!!
Now, I look at some of my friends (mainly the dudes) and I wonder just how much their gaming sensibilities have affected their lives. Like, since they play about 10 hours out of a day, perhaps that means they have a diminished attention span (selective perhaps), low sex drive, perhaps gaming could also provide an explanation for that extra roll of fat that presides around their waistlines. I don’t know if I buy into that whole notion that playing video games makes you behave aggressively…in my opinion, hardcore gamers have to be lazy…aggression goes against the lazy vibe, therefore video games do not make people aggressive…or if they do, it combats the aggressive feelings with laziness?
I do think it affects prosocial behavior though. Its like anything else…once you reach that level of obsession, it’s gonna affect your personal life; the way you relate to others.
Sure maybe gaming is like I donno, a refuge from the mundane tribulations of every day life…maybe it’s like a legal equivalent to smoking pot, or being a base head. All your base are belong to us! Haha! Perhaps Gamers just find most people uninteresting, and are thus less socially inept than one would think. Perhaps they avoid social situations not because video games have ‘rot their brains’, but because they just don’t feel a sense of community with the masses. Maybe they really aren’t socially handicapped, maybe ‘real life’ is for posers…kay, well, some of them definitely are social retards…lets be frank.
Some people might describe video games as a test of skill…unless you have it on EASY you nerd!! For instance, the Legend of Zelda…very easy. Does that make Halo the bible in gamer terms? Is being ‘pwned’ by Warcraft the same as going to hell? Or is that more the equivalent of getting a bad evaluation at work?
Gamers worldwide, I summon you!
I’m totally lost.

One thing I will say. VIDEO GAMES do NOT appeal to women. Or at least women with SLIGHT feminist sensibilities and a little self-respect.
Seriously, the whole damsel in distress thing makes me encounter the same harsh feelings that surfaced when I watched Sin City. Without a doubt, amazing cinematography…brilliant, but why the F#*K do all the women have to be either useless twats–with their tits falling out, pleading for their men to save them–or like knife-wielding lesbian cunts with a lust for vengence? Yeah, I used the c-word. And I apologize if it offends. But I get a little heated when I feel like I’m not being represented fairly.
Same goes for videogames.
Phoenix though…she is the balls. I love her!!
She just pwned your ass noob!!

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Coffee: What Columbians grow to make people think they aren’t the world’s largest Cocaine Exporter?

March 21, 2007 at 4:53 pm (Mass Media)

Damn it all!
I just can’t get my shit together to write this Blog today, so you’ll all have to forgive my lack luster effort here. I think I’m getting the shakes from low blood sugar…
Or, perhaps my 6th cup of coffee is causing a complete brain aneurism.
The buzz is only convincing me that I want to go back to Calgary tonight, and unnecessarily enjoy a ripper with my friends at the MYNT…the MYNT!! Like, quite possibly the lamest bar in Calgary right now. I swear to God, every time I go there I watch the bouncers (I.e. USELESS Chachbags with shaved chests and gold medallions) hold an unnecessary line of people out in the cold. WHY?! Listen up! They do it as a complete means to collect money from people who are TOO sick of waiting and feel forced to buy their way in. So what? So they can encounter useless people in the bar, top 40’s, and probably get stabbed in the heart trying to get a freakin’ martini! O-kay, vodka soda.
That place used to be awesome, but I suppose it just got the disease of every bar in a big city, the WRONG crowds came, and everyone went the other way.
So why am I considering going? I don’t have the SLIGHTEST clue.
I think it’s seriously the coffee buzz talking.
And why is it that I’m too busy downloading Torrents on TO. to do my homework?
Why is it that I’ve bought Metric tickets instead of registering for a summer class I could DEFINITELY use towards my degree? (The presale password is ‘HOSPITAL’ btw.)


AND I REALLY want to take the Summer Semester III Mass Communications SOCI course, but I’d also like to sit on the beach at my cabin in Parksville and get fat for a week from way too many Daquiris and kettle chips…I’m really torn. Feed my brain? Or enjoy other aesthetically pleasing sensations…mostly in my stomach…but I think it’s safe to say vacation generally appeals to all the sensations.

I feel like I’m being overloaded with WAAAAY too much information, and my mind is unable to compute where the best solution is, and I’m in LETHBRIDGE!! Imagine if I was in a bigger city…no wonder all these Hollywood Starlets get addicted to crack, coke, or whatever the new pill is that equates to a good time in Plastic land. I think I’d lose my mind and start taking Horse tranquilizers under the same circumstances.
We’re constantly being bombarded with messages (overt/covert), and they are clogging our brains up with nonsense. I even notice it in my efforts to move into my new condo. I see a build-up of tough guck and grunge in the bathroom sink, and immediately my mind jumps to those cheesy CLR commercials. I WILL buy CLR, why? Because consumerist bullshit REALLY works on me!

Name brands are generally the name of MY game at the supermarket, and it’s not like I own a pair of jeans that cost me less than $200. Kay…I’m starting to feel bad about myself…so I’m gonna go eat some name brand chips before I go to class, or maybe some Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream. Down with health.

And I bet it all just boils down to the fact that I shouldn’t of had that 6th cup of coffee…Starbucks coffee. I’m such a freaking sell-out. I totally buy into name brands!! Starbucks coffee tastes like burnt chalk…why do I love it so much?
I didn’t eat chalk when I was a child…okay maybe the odd stick? I can’t remember, it seems like something I would have been more willing to make my little sister do instead…well, that and having her make-out with Skeletor on TV, and putting the head of her Skeletor action figure doll inside an Oreo and eating it…OH! And that time I convinced her that she was in a coma for a year when she saw a car commercial for next years model, and was confused. I also liked to lock her up in the Treehouse, and play ‘hurricane’. This game involved turning the hose on her and seeing how well she did under the pressure. I used to make her consume mass proportions of grass (no, not the kind your thinking…mary jane didn’t even exist to me at that time); I merely wanted her to think there was milk in it if she chewed on the stems, purely health motivated ;-)
AND finally, there was that time we had the 90 year old relatives over for a family dinner, and I convinced her the names of ‘Salt’ and ‘Pepper’ were ‘sh*t’ and ‘f#ck’.
You can imagine the distress I put my mother through…”can you please pass me the ____”. Such a shit…I’m lucky my sister didn’t turn out to be a serial killer…or better yet, I’m lucky I DIDN’T. All those kids who used to put the gophers heads in their bike spokes and peddle, well sorry guys, but I can’t say the same for you…sadistic creepers.
I think I got sidetracked…(**Hunky Dorry?**)
Too late now…I totally blame the coffee.

2 Comments

Bob Barker is the Sexiest Man Alive!

March 14, 2007 at 1:27 pm (Mass Media)

So, I’ve decided that Bob Barker might actually be 1000 years old, and I think he might have gotten a brow lift…there is NO way some one can look that surprised ALL the time! This is Bob Barker reminding you to help control the pet population. Have your pets spayed or neutered! Why doesn’t someone have you spayed or neutered Bob Barker?? Is it just me, or does he look like beef jerky?

The price is WRONG bitch!!


But yes, commercials, ads, propaganda! I think that I’m beginning to loathe that deodorant commercial…I think it’s for degree…I’m just not sure. But I’m sure you all know the one: Dude goes for a jog, girlfriend smells his shirt after he gets back, which in my mind is just asking for trouble cuz he looks like he might be REALLY European (and consequently doesn’t bathe), and yeah, she’s pissed cuz it’s dry and doesn’t smell bad. She thinks he was snogging the girl down the street, and she probably wouldn’t be wrong. The worst part…it has been on the air for…years, I donno, like 10 years or something. ☺ The people in the commercial are probably dead by now; it’s been on the air THAT long. And after all this time, they still can’t get their mouths to move with the voiced over monologue. Must be a European thing or something. The dude looks European, which makes me think that it would be IMPOSSIBLE for him to return from a jog without smelling like a rotting carcass, a can of pickled asparagus, or that sulphery gutter/sewage smell that always emerges when you’re sightseeing in a European city, and think that you’ve suddenly seen the most beautiful thing ever known to man. Speaking of ‘Man’, I’d like to say we’ve all come a long way since ROSIE the RIVETER, but sometimes I wonder. Even though men and women seem to both be appearing equally in prime-time commercials, and popular ads these days, it appears to me that the roles are generally adhering to a REALLY traditional model that depicts women as unemployed and in the home, and men, as a clapping fool in a business suit in car commercials, or some fat trailer-park slob with his hands down his pants crushing a beer can on his head. I HAVE actually noticed that more men are appearing in the role of ‘spouse’ and ‘father’ with no apparent occupation, but I don’t really feel like it’s an equal representation. Women are still more likely than men to be seen in domestic settings, advertising products used in the home. Like seriously…no one likes to Swifter that much…really (plus that shit kills your pets, maybe they should have a dead lassie dog in the background just to keep it real). Even though the gender gap seems to have become smaller, women are still more likely to be shown as the users of the products they are advertising in commercials and ads. And you’d think these women were having a full-blown orgasm every time they removed that stain, scrubbed that bathtub, swallowed that Draino. Yeah, sometimes I feel like I’m in Pleasantville. And surprise surprise, there’s almost always a male narrator. And you know, my chauvinist pig, disgusting roommate really believes in those ads and commercials. He’s already picked out his type A version of a cleaning slave wife he’d like to have. I can tell you this by the mess he leaves for me to clean up after him every time he rips the kitchen apart for a meal (and I use the word ‘meal’ loosely, it’s more like deep fried, breaded meat with cool whip on it). Some times I leave the dishes, try and make a stand…they’ll sit there for days, and since he doesn’t even know how to scrape his plates… you can imagine how crusted they are by the end of a couple days…fruit flies inclusive. Either way, more work for me. I think that the day before I leave for my new condo I’m going to rip all of his sheets off his bed (I should probably wear latex gloves while doing this, there might be some unhappy surprises, sort of like the ones I’ve occasionally found in my face cloths) then I can throw all his dirty dishes into the sheet and leave them on his bed. I bet you all 100 dollars that he’d just move them over and sleep next to them. I think that’s the fairest assumption…he is such a walking garbage can.
The reality is, contemporary commercials and ads are a reflection of their viewers SEX-ROLE attitudes, and they are all highly researched, calculated, and contributed. These people know what they’re doing. So…I can’t really be angry with the media because my roommate is an idiot, I’m just looking at you people, the public…and I ask you. What the hell are we doing wrong??

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I Blame Paris Hilton and Crack! (Mostly just for being so damn cheap, yes, I mean both of them)

March 5, 2007 at 3:09 pm (Celebrities, Music)

My World has come to a crushing halt: Britney Spears has tried to hang herself.
“She attached a sheet to a light and tied it around her neck. Paramedics were called, but luckily she was unhurt.” But within days out-of-control Britney had swung from suicidal to matrimonial as she told hubby Kevin Federline she wanted to take him back, renew their wedding vows and get pregnant.”

She’s Losing It!

And is it wrong to admit that I’m not sure whats worse…wanting Federlove back, or hanging herself…I just don’t have an answer right now.


So I guess going to rehab is like the same thing as admitting yourself into an insane asylum, because it appears that the little Britster has officially lost it.
And it pains me to say this, but someone needs to get her some serious medication. Tom Cruise and his life partner Science would disagree with the above statement, but I think the girl has a serious case of post-partum depression. No matter how many couches Tom Cruise plans to jump on, I’d like to point out that Rick James says “f*ck yo couch!”, and get the girl on some meds before she throws herself off the side of a building. Even worse, this might just be phase one in what appears to be a grand and orchestrated attempt at taking the lead from one infamous, and extremely DEAD Anna Nicole Smith, by perhaps consuming waaaaay too much methadone for a horse as a means of ball-busting whatever crack, coke, or heroin addiction she has acquired as a result of spending too much time with the likes of the Paris Hilton plastic party, and her food-challenged, rock snorting friends, that ought to be sterilized before they enlist any more baby’s mamas as members of their whoregisbord buffet cult.

Seriously, I worry for her very wellbeing. I just want to give her a hug and tell her everything is going to be okay.
I’m begging some one with a brain for an intervention, and fast. I’m so desperate I’d almost call Oprah, but then I think about having to listen to her speak, and now I’m about to throw myself off a building.

8 Comments

Emo Music Makes me Want to Die, Does that Mean They’re Winning?

March 4, 2007 at 8:09 pm (Mass Media, Music)

Music. Mankind’s greatest achievement, the crux of my existence; the affliction of my addiction; the decisive point of my decisions; the soundtrack for my adventures; the prospect for most of my plans; and the catalyst for my inspiration. That sentence right there is has no beginning and no end. And in there you have it, my music addiction, and I take it quite seriously.

From an early age, I was drilled in the ethics of ‘good’ music consumption; and I learned the value of quality lyrics before I really knew what to do with them. Whether it came through trial and error—my mother playing a gorgeous song on the piano quite flawlessly, all the while simultaneously singing out of tune as a disturbing overtone, OR through the wide assortment of my father’s Vinyl Collection, played regularly (which I have thus since acquired as my own)—the importance of music in the home was stated softly, yet certainly. And as an ode to the genre: before I was able to read, I was able to enjoy music…and just like many of us starry-eyed teenagers, I wanted to be a famous rock star when I grew up. And I probably could have been. Perhaps it might have blossomed in my years of Musical Theatre, perhaps it could of branched out from there if I had continued, got legitimate voice lessons, an agent, and thus joined the countless thralls of aspiring musicians. BUT, sometimes our dreams seem like this distant epitaph of our youth, far too out of reach to be realized, and in there you have it, in a nut shell, my present apathy toward a music career. Like so many, I just didn’t see a reality in it. When I look at the lifestyle of famous artists/musicians, I don’t really envy them all that much either. Fame seems to evoke this sense of disillusionment, escapist tendencies, and a complete disconnect with the realities of daily life that seems to alienate the most stealth and humble of individuals. While the charade seems appealing at times, I can probably put money on it; I’d be dead within 5 years. While I admire those with the courage to REALLY go for it, I have to critically take in the realities of being a ‘successful’ musician.
Perhaps if just half the world was as critical about what they put in their player as some of the people I know, there would be no place for the lack-luster artists, those who are conjointly, ironically, and suspiciously THE headlining, primary entertainers of the world. I.e. Christina, Britney, Justin, and all the ‘hot’ and contemporary Singles Artists that Top 40 Stations Spin out like a hot dog on a Weiner Reel at your local Tubby Dog Chain. (I don’t think it’s actually a chain). I love Britney and Justin, don’t get me wrong, and I will hereby state that I will hatefully, and grudgingly include Christina in their rank despite the fact that I am thoroughly convinced she is a walking STD, and I’d rather see her face as an add for a non-smoking, anti-cigarette, anti-breeding campaign that acknowledges that cigarettes cause people to make bad decisions, that may result in them looking like a plastic transsexual Shim with way too much clown make-up on. But…I suppose if Britney can change her hair, and Justin can date a woman for two years with the most gigantic mouth known to mankind (Aka: the black hole that is Cameron Diaz’s face) well, then I guess Christina can be a disgusting, ugly, obnoxious clown-whore. Whatever.
Nonetheless, clown-whore inclusive or not, within the vortex of everything music, and all those deemed ‘musical’, there is a place for all sorts of artists, genres and each to each a particular adherence to an unwritten code…mantra, whatever you want to call it. Just look around, music aligns people in dress, appearance, tastes and demeanor. It’s actually really messed up, but Music seems to effect all of our lives rather profoundly, and in the most unique, perplexing and obscure of ways. The culture of music is vast and daunting, and within it people aspire to specific roles, titles and occupations, all in the name of artisans worldwide. And though it could be widely disputed by the public sale of atrocious albums, and useless artists, music is not something that you can just record and manufacture onto a CD and sell for $21.99; and it certainly isn’t heavily marketed punk music infused with estrogen, metro-sexuality and Emo-freakishess, complete with a top hat, cane, eyeliner (o-kay, maybe the eyeliner), and a music video filmed in Sepia, aimed at teenagers with low self-esteem and a fetish for cutting themselves. I once heard Emo music defined as “much like Goth, much less dark, and much more Harry Potter”, and let me tell you, I’ve seen Harry Potter’s penis, and the fright I consequently experienced takes any bit of credibility out of that statement. But…before the penis, I would have agreed.
Seriously, that penis is the vein of my existence; and I choose to use the word ‘vein’ quite literally. And there you have it: Harry Potter’s penis, Beyonce, Christina Aguilera, Emo Kids…combined=a sure-fire recipe for my self-destruction.
I should have never exposed my weakness…

The song playing as I wrote this Post: “The Only Moment We Were Alone”, Explosions in the Sky. Thought it only appropriate to share:

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Welcome to Movie Phone, Julia Speaking…

February 28, 2007 at 4:07 pm (Mass Media)

Welcome to Movie land…sit down, strap yourself in, and try and enjoy the ride…this might be a bit of a whacked blogging experience, because honestly, I don’t know what the HELL I’m doing!
So here it is! Going to the movies is one of my favorite past times, and the act of going to the theatre is the kind of common, shared experience that I really enjoy. If the crowd isn’t feeling it, chances are, I probably won’t engage as much in the movie…I never thought of that until Prof Paul mentioned something along those lines in lecture the other week, and I just can’t stop thinking about it. Everything that I thought I knew about the movies has suddenly been blown right out of the water; it’s like a shot, a shot right to the heart. See, it really doesn’t just depend on who else is in the theatre (in number, in person), it depends on who you go with, what happens on the way to the theatre, the sorts of plans you have that day…and it’s all wrapped up in a nice little package, with a big gay bow (whatever color you choose, I choose green), and it helps to explain why sometimes you can see a movie in the theatre and think ‘F#&k that was AWESOME’, or ‘SH*T that sucked balls’, and then the next time you happen to stumble upon a DVD of the movie, throw it on your roommates Projector Screen (if it’s working), you have a completely different experience with the film. For better or worse…it totally depends.
Sooo, for my movie I decided to give this whole, second experience movie thing a go around…I wanted to know for sure if I REALLY liked a film as much as I thought I did. I went to see a matinee of Children of Men, time number deuce, at the Movie Mill. Yeah, I’ve seen it before, and to be frank, I was slightly intoxicated the first time, and I missed the first 5 minutes of the movie because the projector machine got all busted-ass and wouldn’t work. Are they even run by people anymore? My grandfather used to run those back in the days of yore, and my gosh, I think his title was like ‘Engineer’ or something…sounds pretty prestigious for pressing a couple buttons, and winding some film around a reel now doesn’t it?
Lets leave PopPop out of this…

Think of it: I’m already at a loss, I’m totally intoxicated, the movie appears to be starting, then, at the least opportune moment (I.e. Right when the film started), the screen totally sh*tted out, the lights went back on, but the sound kept rolling. To say the least, not only did I lose BIG time in the first 5 minutes of the film, but also I spent even longer trying to catch my brain up once the video got itself rolling. Children of Men isn’t the kind of film you can really allow yourself to skip a beat in…that means you go thirsty, that means you get a bladder infection from holding it in for so long…you just have to. Whatever. By the time the end credits rolled, it was safe to say I was nonetheless moved, but my mind was all wrapped-up in the mystery that was the first 5 minutes of the film.
So I was convinced that this second time around, I wasn’t going to be late, and I wasn’t going to POSSIBLY let the damn machine ruin my movie experience. It was going to happen the way I wanted it to, the RIGHT way. But I almost screwed up…and this time, it the onus would have truly been on me. Yeah, I’m new to Lethbridge, and instead of being a safe, and attentive driver, I was speeding on my way to the theatre (I really didn’t want to be late), and just my luck, Radar Trap. So I got pulled over, going 75 in a 50 zone. I started thinking about how I wouldn’t be able to afford to live for the next month; in Calgary, this is cause for a HUGE ticket. Well, lets just say it’s awesome being a blonde female sometimes. The Police Officer, a young dude, explained to me that ‘I was under the radar of what he considered “speeding”, and that I was free to go’. HAH…wow, under the radar…25 over in a 50 zone?? Well, I’m not going to fight it, it was meant to be.
So yeah, I make it safely, unscathed, unticketed, and to say the least, quite relieved to have arrived at the Movie Theatre. And let me say, one thing I love about Lethbridge: movies are DAMN cheap, and not only in the designated Cheap Theatres, or on Cheap Tuesdays, but just in general. Sure, the food is a rip-off, but unless you want to pick up some tapeworm or salmonella poisoning, chances are you aren’t going to buy that package of Sour Kids that has been sitting in the display for about 6 weeks. And to top it off, you don’t have to pay for parking…you barely have to pay for the movie. It was a fresh change from the Calgary Movie Theatre experience, where you feel like collectively, everything ‘MOVIE’ is trying to take advantage of you, especially if you’re stoned and have the munchies…and lets face it, the combo of sticky greens and a Movie Reel is like…Oreo’s and Milk…they’re just better together than they are apart; unless of course you’re sitting at home and watching reruns of Kenny vs. Spenny, and perhaps eating a bowl of butter and salt with a couple kernels of popcorn in it.
So yeah, it’s like 1ish in the afternoon, and the movie starts without a hitch. The usual bass head stoners arrive a little late, and have the audacity ;-) to giggle at the most inappropriate points in the movie. Or, maybe all us sober people aren’t ‘into’ it enough to see the humor in death…
Yeah, Children of Men is heavy, and I have to say there weren’t many crazy people like myself, and the stoners, that wanted to totally dampen their afternoon with some hardcore, heavy movie magic. There were about 7 of us in the theatre, me, the stoners, an overweight dude in his 40s with entirely too much food for one person, and your type-A obnoxiously loud couple sitting at the back of the theatre, making-out and doing GOD knows what throughout the entire movie (I.e. Cinema Handjob), and that was it. Typical, but true. It’s a beautiful film, really, but it ain’t the typical kind with guns and kung-fu mish mash, and it ain’t a walk in the park with Hugh Grant, and some lame actress who smiles waaaaay too often; it’s hard, it’s real, and unfortunately…it’s pretty close to the way some people live their lives everyday in this world, except for us in tinsel town, we don’t have the slightest clue, and the idea of that seems like some far fetched fantasy thriller, and the whole concept is totally lost on us.
And you know, maybe it’s just the queer-ass times I go to the theatre, but is it just me, or is Movie Theatre attendance totally on the decline? I could see it…I mean, we can all torrent all the subtle-wicked movies we want with Azureus; I know I do. But, the experience of going to the Theatre isn’t totally lost on me…it’s just better; it’s the collective experience. And you know, I appreciate anything that can bring myself, some stoners, Christians, Mormons, Buddhists, retired couples, single mothers with children, the unemployed, seasonal workers, and just a general mish-mash of people from all walks of life together.  And isn’t it fantastic that specifically, and individually, each of us can have a totally distinct experience in a Movie Theatre? We can all take something different out of the film. Some of us might see Children of Men as moving, offensive, hilarious, trail-blazing, weak, plotless…I could go on, but you get it.
Sure, the 15 minutes of adds at the beginning of films these days is a bit of a headache, I feel that in those first few moments of anticipation for the film, commercials are a complete buzz-kill, but, sometimes they end up being better than the movie…always a disappointment. I mean, I think it is highly obnoxious that movie theatres are trying to make profits through commercials, whilst simultaneously alienating their audiences; it doesn’t work for radio, and it certainly won’t work in the movie theatre. And like COME ON! People can just go to Best Buy—or Future Shop if you’re trying to make some sort of statement that doesn’t mean anything, because they’re owned by Best Buy—and buy their own personal Home Theatre for a pretty decent sounding price…and if that’s the case, you can have the big screen movie experience in the privacy of your own home, around the company of your own friends…stoners, or not :-) and without the company of random and obnoxious cell phones ringing (ring-tone inclusive annoyance), babies crying, juveniles talking…and the infamous destruction of your favorite shoes in the ever growing nastiness of Cinemuck. (I.e. the combination of popcorn, soda, and melted chocolate, which covers the floors of movie theatres). But I guess until I win the lottery, or inherit some huge sum of money, Movie Executives don’t have to worry about losing my business…I can’t really get enough of Hollywood; Tom Cruise inclusive…probably not, but they had me at hello…or something like that.

Side Note: As of recent, I thought that my life was going well, but I’ve had the unfortunate experience of being exposed to online pictures of Harry Potter’s penis, in the most strange and disturbing photos of him naked with a HORSE.
If the movies could offer me an answer as to why sh*t like that happens, I’d be forever in their debt… …

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I Deserve to be Loved :(

February 21, 2007 at 12:22 pm (Home)

I’m very distraught, and this seemed like the most reasonable outlet to vent my frustration. Last night, my ignorant piece of shit roommate decided that since he can’t even handle the responsibility of taking care of himself, and using facecloths for their appropriate purpose, that the most viable option for him, as a means to keep up bullshit appearances in his worthless, front-stage, concocted, status symbol saturated life is to purchase a dog; a 3 month old chocolate lab. I’m an avid animal lover: pigs, chickens, cows, dogs, cats; if it breathes, I’ll love it, if it’s cute, I’ll keep it, if it’s not, I’ll still keep it. I cannot stand the idea of a living creature being submitted to some barely human’s ignorant, manual-reading, pathological bullshit. How can he possibly think that he has the credentials to be a legitimate pet owner? It disturbs me to the core. And the worst part of it, he has specifically instructed me that I am not to intervene in his plans for how he is going to raise this poor animal, because he needs it to learn how to be on its own when he’s out of town. Does he think it’s a fucking plant that he can just water and leave for a couple weeks? The guy is a nut! And what is going to happen when he has his little parties 3 or 4 times a week, or when he goes out drinking about 6 out of 7 days a week?? The dog is going to be left alone, or in my care (which is great until I leave in a month for my own condo).
Last night, the first night the little puppy was in the house, he deemed it appropriate that he lock the dog in the utility room, with the lights out, shit lying around. I heard the dog thrashing around for an hour or two, crashing into things, wailing, before I couldn’t stand it any longer and went in there and slept on the tile floor until about 7am this morning.
I’m so afraid that one of these days I’m going to wake up to a dead animal lying on the floor…he hasn’t even bought dog food for fucks sake. He is entirely clueless, and that’s an understatement.

My Plan: The next party he has, I’m going to orchestrate an event that enables the dog to ‘run away’; it should be easy. While he and all his juvenile, delinquent friends are snorting rock, or doing keg stands at three in the morning, it seems quite feasible that some idiot could leave the door open, and the dog could get out.
This is my plan of attack. Fake a ‘run away’, and meanwhile, I’ll take the dog to friends place, or my parents, until I can take her to my own place in April.
OR, I’m just going to get fed up and call animal services on the douche. He doesn’t deserve to have an animal, and no amount of Dog manuals, and stupid dumb-ass b-rod’s advice, whom he’s banging this week, is going to change that.
I’m losing my mind.
Suggestions are welcome…I’m at the end of my rope.

Side Note:
If you’re also an animal lover, it is time for you to “Meet Your Meat”.
You’ll never view mass consumption of meat products the same again.
Warning: This video is not for the faint of heart.

4 Comments

Ali G. vs. Noam Chomsky

February 14, 2007 at 3:20 pm (Uncategorized)

Yeah, I thought the world would implode before I saw something like this…but, I think it’s fair to say we’re all safe…for now.

In honor of his most supreme braininess Noam Chomsky, here is the best medium for getting a grasp on his gigantic brain…watch him as he hates himself for accepting an interview with Ali G.
I think Ali G. is obnoxious, and apparently Noam is right there with me. I’d pay money to see Sasha bring out Borat with the old Chomsker, but until then, I’ll settle for this crap.

Now lets learn about language:

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George Stroumboulopoulos, Canadian Idol, and Tween Jean Connoisseur

February 14, 2007 at 12:51 am (Celebrities, Mass Media)

What is up with George Stroumboulopoulos’ pants? They are so tight! There was a time when I considered this midget to be one of the sexiest men on the planet, but I’ve watched The Hour enough times that I consider him more like a sibling, and completely repulsive. This laid-back form of news/interview media has not only allowed me to feel as though I know the dude, but I’ve also developed a serious annoyance for some of his strange quirks. Like that fake laugh, what is that? It looks like he’s just about lose his mind and start chewing on the head of whatever guest he has sitting across from him in the studio. Tonight it’s Toni Collette, and he better not touch her head, I need her brain intact for my personal entertainment, she’s awesome. Did you know she is the front-woman of a band? How bout that? Toni Collette and the Finish (what KIND of ‘finish’, we’re still not sure):

http://www.tonicolletteandthefinish.com/
Learn something new every day.
Haven’t heard anything from them, so don’t blame me if she sings in a strange key, sounds like the Partridge Family, or has the vocal stylings of a crotchless, old-lady Madonna without her backing-track. But lets leave her out of this.
Back to George: That lame pointing thing he does every 3 minutes; IT DRIVES ME CRAZY! Every time he switches to the one minute News, another segment, or a Bio, he has to point at the damn camera and say the word “this”. Seriously George, I think you are on autopilot, and I’m sick of your shit. Switch up your routine damn it!! Start doing some high-kicks, leap frog, the chicken dance, the Macarena, engage in Festivus, start telling sensationalist stories, totally make some shit up, harass some crack-head celebrity until they overdose in a hotel room on a Thursday from whatever steroids or horse tranquilizers they’ve been habitually dropping with their orange juice at 8am. Just do something different, I’m so sick of your punk-ass white boy crap. You are not hardcore. I’d actually be tempted to call you Emo…dun dun dunnn… But instead of crying in the dark, and slitting your wrists, you’re probably more into dressing up in women’s clothing, wearing giant hats while salsa dancing in your kitchen, crying, and spilling the blood of rodents as a means to garnish your Pina Colada avec tiny umbrella that you like to drink while watching re-runs of yourself on CBC while masturbating.
Sure, George is probably pretty well read, how could he NOT BE? He spends many a sleepless night ‘alone’ in his crawl-space, having a fake tea party curled up in the lap of Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachyov’s dead corpse, while simultaneously debating politics with one of his depressing alternate personalities…yeah, I think he might have MORE than a few… There’s Alcoholic Clown George, Lord of the Flies George, Will Work for Food George, Peg-Legged George, Vengeful Figure Skater George, Elephant Poacher George, Ballchinian George…and each of them comes equipped with a pointing finger. Whatever.
It is widely known that news reporters spend an unprecedented amount of time alone, are huge alcoholics (Bigger than Lindsay Lohan, if that’s possible—who are we kidding, she’s a total railed-out rock junkie, and I don’t mean rock n’ roll, and I’m not a Geologist), I’m convinced they’d all be sadistic murders if they didn’t worry about the Network Jesus handcuffing them to the news desk, and subsequently forcing them to report on their back-stage insanity the following day. Actually that’s probably more like one of their wet dreams. I think it’s just safe to say that they’re all a particular brand of crazy. I’m not joking. And don’t get me wrong, I dig crazy; I am crazy; but I don’t dig pretentious assholes, and most especially those who read a cue card to feel like they fill out their sporran. I bet George is a total douche. Some one just really needs to tell him he’s wearing little girl jeans. George Stroumboulopoulos, you are Punk-Ass/Goth/Emo/Rudie, and you are a total poser… but I still like your show, and I don’t even know how that happens…
UGH…he just pointed at me AGAIN!!! I’m going to lose my mind.

Just another shot of George wearing Girls Clothing and plotting to eat the head of some old dude like a lazy vampire after the jump:

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DAMN THE AIRWAVES!!!

February 7, 2007 at 4:57 pm (Mass Media)

Well, it’s happened again, my face cloth has gone missing. The last time this happened I found it in the spare room with an unnamed substance smeared all over it. It was thick, white, and sticky…use your imagination. Yep, it seems that every time my roommate throws a party, either he, or one of his delinquent, alcohol stealing friends decides that using my expensive towels as their gentleman’s rag is all the new craze for stupid jocks around the globe. So I’m pissed off, and what do I do? I go up to my room—my barely there sanctuary with NO lock on the door—to watch a DVD of my favorite television show Arrested Development. Usually this is a sure-fire way of calming my nerves, BUT today I must have renounced Satan, because my DVD player isn’t working. HEZZAH!
So what do I do now? Do I dismiss the recurring train wreck of facecloth incidents? Do I swallow my pride and join my roommate downstairs to watch whatever ignorant, chauvinist, money grubbing, American-dream-promoting television show he’s watching? Yeah, the one probably written by some 38 year old, woman-hating virgin, who JUST decided he’s hip, loving it, and that he can really ‘write good’. Nope, I’ll just watch the DVD on my lap top thanks. Mischief managed.

So yeah, I get a little sensitive when I can’t access my staple television programs (God Bless CBC for playing Arrested Development btw). Whether it’s a cable meltdown, a stupid remote, or a scratched DVD, I’ll be chewing at the bit until I find a worthy substitute. AND may I mention that I hope there is never an Internet Jesus who starts to mediate what we can and cannot see online, I’ll lose it, I really will. I’m a big TV kid, and I totally begrudge the fact that I have to usually rent or purchase all the shows I love, because they don’t air them on the channels I can afford. Oh and when they do, it’s like Showcase, and then I’m left feeling like a dirty perv, staying up late to watch some soft-core porn. Kay, there are REALLY some good programs on Showcase, I swear!! Not to mention, most the shows I love get taken off the air…it’s like a shot, a shot right to the heart, and I can’t take it anymore! As you can see I’m at the end of my rope.

So is anyone responsible?
I don’t know, but I think my roommate has inspired me to begin a research project that measures the amount of Television watched, the level of physical exercise, and the consequent level of fatness obtained. And perhaps for myself, I should begin measuring the level of anti-social behavior associated with the medium as well ☺
So I guess there are some negative aspects to Television, who woulda thought?! I guess that other than having to share the remote with my roommate, and my DVD player not working, there are some serious endemic type deals and they do link back to Television. One thing I can tell you that I’m truly getting sick of: The way that the media frames political issues, and molds the minds, of the young, naïve, and the ignorant (my roommate inclusive) toward a particular political discourse. Surprise, f-ing surprise, it is almost always American agenda promoting. Damn the airwaves, and those patriotic, bigotted, greedy, Republican, white-middle American broadcasting whores. So sick of them…overrated. ;)
Haven’t they already made enough money off of the children in Taiwan they employ to make the lame T-shirts and toys they sell for their ridiculous prime-time programs? I guess not.

My point: I’m having a facecloth bonfire at my place at 9pm Friday night, BYOB, bring friends, and PLEASE, bring some one who needs a new roommate, I’m putting myself on the market.

In the picture: “Jesus: The Mini-Series”

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