Okay, I know.
I've been a very bad blogger.
As in, my last entry was posted in about 500 A.D.
Truthfully I have no idea what that means exactly, nor do I care because I have an inkling it relates to the Bible and/or Jesus. However I do know it was a damn long time ago, which is quite accurate.
Well okay, June 23.
Same thing.
Life has been interesting, I suppose, for lack of a better one word description. I guess assuming I would be faithful in updating my summer adventures was a little too...assumptive. Again, look at me, lacking words.(In fact, I originally wrote 'assumptuous' but apparently that isn't a word according to the Merriam-Webster dictionary. I have been living a lie). I need to brush up on this blogging business because school's coming up and frankly, there'll be a lot of encounters with braindead teenagers that will make for kick ass entries on here.
So that, my friends, is a carefully disguised apology. I'm not very good at saying I'm sorry and anyway, I'm not entirely sorry. And I'm not one to be fake.
Let's just move on, shall we?
Yesterday I returned from a quick trip to the United States, which was made solely for the purpose of spending my parent's money on 'back to school' (back to prison) clothing. It included a six hour car ride through boring ole Ontario and New York state, made survivable only by my ipod (aka Tegan and Sara/Bright Eyes on repeat). Irrelevant sidenote: I went to a Tegan and Sara/Wintersleep/Ra Ra Riot/City & Colour concert on Saturday. Let me just say, I have never seen so many blue mohawks/mullets or lesbians in one place, like, ever, in my seventeen years of life. I also wasn't aware of Dallas Green's religious following; and by religious I mean they're willing to purchase butt ugly t-shirts that resonate with an Ed Hardy feel. That's dedication. (He was okay, I mean, if you like that whiny-all-the-songs-sound-the-same-im-so-indie-with-my-bandmate-who-wears-a-sombrero-style-hat type deal. Personally, I'll stick with Tegan and Sara who, FYI, rock.) Seriously, and I don't even have a crush on them. Although they are damn adorable...but all I have is a strict love for their music, I promise.
Besides, I wouldn't have a chance.
Back to my previous topic: My trip may have also included the incessant mocking of America. Not to sound ultra snarky (I'm sure I will anyway), but I'm starting to re-think my decision to move there. Did you notice that people don't say "you're welcome"? Perhaps it's just the select people I spoke to while in Pennsylvania, but when you thank someone, the best you'll get in return is a half-hearted 'uh huh' or maybe, if you're lucky 'yep.'
What is WRONG with you people? In Canada, we'll apologize for someone else stepping on your toe. Now that's fucking fine hospitality, if you ask me.
I suppose if I went to the South again (it's been about five years since I drove through Kentucky/Tennessee/North Carolina/South Carolina) I would be greeted with politeness. Or so I hear. However, I'm skeptical. The last place I intend on moving to is a place surrounded by people with southern accents and hair teased up to the ceiling. Oh, and I'm not big on greasy, fried food.
I was thinking more about moving to New York City (rude people unite!) or Chicago (even though I really hate that musical, like, with a passion) but now I'm wondering if I'll ever get over the whole aspect of, well, America. First off, their money is a mind blowing thing. Did you know it's ALL ONE COLOUR? How the fuck do you know what you're giving or getting? I guess you could take 2.5 seconds to check, but it's so much easier to have a colour coded system like we do. Bam, blue five dollar bill. Bam, green twenty.
Also, who had the genius idea to invent one dollar bills? What could possibly be more useless? You could be fooled into thinking you've got tons of money, when all you've got is a shitload of one dollar bills. How completely disappointing.
Secondly, what's with you sporty American girls? I mean, I'm not necessarily complaining, but everywhere we went I saw girls in sports clothing. Like, shorts and t-shirts and the whole nine yards. Some were even carrying Coach bags while wearing sports shoes and the rest. Is this a fashion statement exclusively reserved for you guys? To be honest, I've seen better looking people in my own city. And I live in a small city, population thirty-one thousand to be precise, full of people who've scratched their faces off during a meth trip.
I mean, put on some real clothes.
This is making me sound shallow, and I swear you guys, I'm a person who is willing to look past some sports attire. If anything, the Coach purse is what would turn me off. I'm just throwing it out there, for an obese nation you sure wear your exercise clothing like it's a dress off the fucking runway in Paris.
That's all for now, folks. Remember, saying 'you're welcome' is good manners.
...Like I have any right to preach good manners.
23.6.10
EARTHQUAAAAKKKKEE!!!!!!!!!!
Well, we couldn't have asked for a better opening to Summer 2010, could we? If you don't know what I'm talking about, I'm talking about the random quake that hit Ontario and Quebec this afternoon.
I'm not here to obsess about it, because honestly . So the ground shook for about thirty seconds. Life went on. A picture possibly fell off your wall. Is that a problem? Pick itthe fuck up.
On TV they were showing all this footage of people evacuating their buildings with expressions of pure panic. It's like, really? I know it's G20 and all, but I think this is just proof how uptight everyone is these days. Especially if you live on the 70th floor of some office building, are you really gonna run like a chicken with it's head cut off down 70 floors? By the 65th floor they must have realized that the shaking stopped, and surprise surprise they were still alive. But no they had to run down to floor level which ended up turning into a nice smoke break and pleasant, intelligent conversation with a news crew.
For example (if you didn't have the unfortunate pleasure of seeing one of these riveting interviews on TV):
Your Average Naive Canadian: I was sittin' in my desk chair, and all of a sudden the chair was moving. But...I wasn't moving.
Reporter: Oh wow!
Are you fucking KIDDING me? Is our country really that boring that we need to put shit like this on TV? I don't think I could dream up a more pointless conversation if I tried. And trust me when I say I go to school with people who have the IQ of a small igneous rock.
Another thing I found humorous but also incredibly depressing was the amount of Facebook statuses proclaming the same thing: OH MY GOD YOU GUYS THERE WAS AN EARTHQUAKE LIKE MY HOUSE SHOOK AND THIS IS CRAZY AND THE WORLD IS ENDING.
If you haven't been informed yet, earthquakes occur when the tectonic plates (which basically make up the surface of planet earth) shift. Big whoop. They have them frequently in other countries, it doesn't mean there's going to be swarms of locusts and a giant flood and the bible is going to come to life. Or something. If it did, I'd totally part the red sea. (I have no idea what I'm even talking about).
On the topic of extremely overrated events, let's talk briefly about the MMVA's while I'm here and committing to a blog post. To sum them up quite easily, Justin Bieber has officially gone through a voice change, Miley Cyrus likes to wear hardly any clothing at all, and there is so much horrid Can con in this country that I had to mute half of the red carpet show.
Seriously, if you're game to see Stereos play an acoustic performance then you might as well go fall off a cliff. I'm sorry, but you are an idiot.
The mute button was my best friend for that entire thing.
One last thought-how is Russell Brand married to Katy Perry? She deserves better.
Also known as me.
Just throwing that out there.
I'm not here to obsess about it, because honestly . So the ground shook for about thirty seconds. Life went on. A picture possibly fell off your wall. Is that a problem? Pick it
On TV they were showing all this footage of people evacuating their buildings with expressions of pure panic. It's like, really? I know it's G20 and all, but I think this is just proof how uptight everyone is these days. Especially if you live on the 70th floor of some office building, are you really gonna run like a chicken with it's head cut off down 70 floors? By the 65th floor they must have realized that the shaking stopped, and surprise surprise they were still alive. But no they had to run down to floor level which ended up turning into a nice smoke break and pleasant, intelligent conversation with a news crew.
For example (if you didn't have the
Your Average Naive Canadian: I was sittin' in my desk chair, and all of a sudden the chair was moving. But...I wasn't moving.
Reporter: Oh wow!
Are you
Another thing I found humorous but also incredibly depressing was the amount of Facebook statuses proclaming the same thing: OH MY GOD YOU GUYS THERE WAS AN EARTHQUAKE LIKE MY HOUSE SHOOK AND THIS IS CRAZY AND THE WORLD IS ENDING.
If you haven't been informed yet, earthquakes occur when the tectonic plates (which basically make up the surface of planet earth) shift. Big whoop. They have them frequently in other countries, it doesn't mean there's going to be swarms of locusts and a giant flood and the bible is going to come to life. Or something. If it did, I'd totally part the red sea. (I have no idea what I'm even talking about).
On the topic of extremely overrated events, let's talk briefly about the MMVA's while I'm here and committing to a blog post. To sum them up quite easily, Justin Bieber has officially gone through a voice change, Miley Cyrus likes to wear hardly any clothing at all, and there is so much horrid Can con in this country that I had to mute half of the red carpet show.
Seriously, if you're game to see Stereos play an acoustic performance then you might as well go fall off a cliff. I'm sorry, but you are an idiot.
The mute button was my best friend for that entire thing.
One last thought-how is Russell Brand married to Katy Perry? She deserves better.
Also known as me.
Just throwing that out there.
27.5.10
The Hills: Diminish any existing brain cells in under half an hour!
Hello, everyone! Yes, I know, I've been gone far too long. But, you don't give a shit why I was gone, you just want me back. I see. (Is that cocky? Rargghh). If you're wondering why anyways, I've been feeding my obsession with Real World/Road Rules Challenges. Specifically, the current one, Fresh Meat 2. I have a man-crush on Kenny Santucci. And an actual crush on Laurel.
Otherwise, it's just been kind of a hiatus, observing new things tobitch write about, you know the deal. Or do you? If you're a non-writer, non-reader (if so, please fall off a cliff) then I guess you wouldn't know the effort slash rewarding nature of being one. But sometimes it gets a little tiresome and you need a break to think of fresh ideas.
Either way, I'm back. Think of me as Jaina 2.0, Turbo Sarcasm 500. If that makes sense. I really ought to take up teaching classes on being sarcastic, or at least on how to complete an i-will-wilt-you-like-a-flower-step-down-you-pathetic-piece-of-wobbly-no-backboned-snake stare. I've gotten compliments on my abilities.
I'm going to stop being a completely self-centered Spencer Pratt-like human being (minus the crystals and the psycho wife) and get down to it. In fact, speaking of The Hills alumni, today I've got a bone to pick with more than just the good ole Pratt family. Who we all know is way past Crazytown and is making a dash towards Bonkersville. I realize a few posts ago, I did one solely focusing on the Heidi transformation.
However-The ENTIRE Hills cast, apart from Jayde Nicole, who can be a bitch to me any time, is the most annoying group of people I have ever observed from the safety of my couch. And I've watched many countless, mindless episodes of The Real Housewives of _______(fill in your cougartown of choice). Each week, in the 10 Spot on MTV, you can tune in to see the ever so conflicted lives of Audrina Patridge, Kristin Cavallari, Brody Jenner, Stephanie Pratt, Mr. and Mrs. Spencer Pratt (aka the psychotic black magic clan) and who else...oh yeah, Lo something-or-other and Heidi's sister who's always either crying or drunk off her ass. Quite the bunch, eh? Literally, all they do is drink, gossip about fake gossip that their producers tell them to gossip about, and shop for shoes.Repeatedly. Oh, and throw in a few catfights, drug rumours and the most pointless conversations ever to take place. (All pre-planned and rehearsed, no less).
For research purpose ONLY, I've been watching every week. Let me tell you, the commercial breaks have become a relief. Whenever Audrina is on the screen, I feel like clawing out my eyeballs. You guys. I DON'T THINK SHE HAS A BRAIN. I wish I could say I'm over-exaggerating. I'm sure many of you know what I mean. She puts a lot of thought into everything she says, it's like, you can see the wheels turning, but nothing comes out except a jumble of likes and ums. Her actual speaking time on The Hills is probably at the rate of one or maybe two sentences a week. If she feels up to it. As long as she's got a six pack and a new hipster boyfriend to leech on to, she's golden.
Good grief.
As for Kristin Cavallari, where the fuck did she come from? I mean, I know she did Laguna Beach, but where did she go before Lauren Conrad ditched the shit show and gave her an opportunity to be a reality tv whore again? More importantly, WHY IS HER VOICE SO HOARSE ALL THE TIME? Hasn't she heard of Fisherman's Friend or Halls? Somebody give this girl a lozenge, stat.
To be honest, I used to love The Hills. (The first and second season, when I was a young grasshopper). I ate up Lauren and Jason's "drama" and hated on Spencer (some things never change). Mostly, I can recall Heidi's cute little face with her pointy chin and dark eyebrows. Well, it's a faint memory. If you've been hiding under a rock, lucky for you, you haven't endured the awkward plastic sight that is Heidi Montag...shall we say, remodeled, for lack of anicer better word.
If you've recently been in a grocery store or on the internet, you've seen headlines about the dysfunctional pair. Let's go from beginning to current disaster, shall we? The following are all Heidi Us Weekly covers: "I Was Betrayed By Spencer", "Why I Called Off My Wedding", "I'm Ready To Say I Do", "Heidi And Spencer Elope", "Revenge Plastic Surgery", "Her Mom's Fury", "Addicted To Plastic Surgery", "Destroyed By Fame". There's probably more, but you get the point.
What do others think of the duo? One online comment read:
658 copies? Wow, if I were her, I'd go off the deep end too.
Moving on, because they're probably marinating in this free publicity, is Brody Jenner-Lo-Holly and whoever else doesn't deserve a paragraph to themselves. Jenner is your class act douche bag, although he's much less douche-y than Pratt. Not that that's really saying much. It seems he's always finding another Playmate to fool around with, but then he always goes back to Kristin. How does her scratchy voice not get unbearable to your ears? Lo is not even worth talking about. She's average. Great, that's really good for the ratings. As for Holly, 95% of the time she's drunk, the other 5% she's crying. It sums up her life, really. Although I give her kudos for making it on to the show, she's probably getting paid more each week than the mortgage on my house.
Lastly, there's Steph Pratt. When she's not crying, she's getting DUIs, lip injections, and losing weight. Don't you remember her Us Weekly cover?
Ah yes, Us Weekly. Letting desperate has-beens (or never-beens) announce their deepest, darkest secrets with grace. I love the irony of this photo. She's SOOOOOO self conscious, as she poses for a magazine cover in a bikini. Total self hatred, right there. How could that sincere, saddened face not tear you up?
All right, I've spent way too much time being sucked into realm of fake drama for now. In fact, a new episode's on next Tuesday! Oh goody-goody gumdrops. Be sure to put on your stilettos and get ready to melt some brain cells. I'll leave you with a quote from the wise, the experienced, Dalai Lama of Hollywood.
Otherwise, it's just been kind of a hiatus, observing new things to
Either way, I'm back. Think of me as Jaina 2.0, Turbo Sarcasm 500. If that makes sense. I really ought to take up teaching classes on being sarcastic, or at least on how to complete an i-will-wilt-you-like-a-flower-step-down-you-pathetic-piece-of-wobbly-no-backboned-snake stare. I've gotten compliments on my abilities.
I'm going to stop being a completely self-centered Spencer Pratt-like human being (minus the crystals and the psycho wife) and get down to it. In fact, speaking of The Hills alumni, today I've got a bone to pick with more than just the good ole Pratt family. Who we all know is way past Crazytown and is making a dash towards Bonkersville. I realize a few posts ago, I did one solely focusing on the Heidi transformation.
However-The ENTIRE Hills cast, apart from Jayde Nicole, who can be a bitch to me any time, is the most annoying group of people I have ever observed from the safety of my couch. And I've watched many countless, mindless episodes of The Real Housewives of _______(fill in your cougartown of choice). Each week, in the 10 Spot on MTV, you can tune in to see the ever so conflicted lives of Audrina Patridge, Kristin Cavallari, Brody Jenner, Stephanie Pratt, Mr. and Mrs. Spencer Pratt (aka the psychotic black magic clan) and who else...oh yeah, Lo something-or-other and Heidi's sister who's always either crying or drunk off her ass. Quite the bunch, eh? Literally, all they do is drink, gossip about fake gossip that their producers tell them to gossip about, and shop for shoes.Repeatedly. Oh, and throw in a few catfights, drug rumours and the most pointless conversations ever to take place. (All pre-planned and rehearsed, no less).
For research purpose ONLY, I've been watching every week. Let me tell you, the commercial breaks have become a relief. Whenever Audrina is on the screen, I feel like clawing out my eyeballs. You guys. I DON'T THINK SHE HAS A BRAIN. I wish I could say I'm over-exaggerating. I'm sure many of you know what I mean. She puts a lot of thought into everything she says, it's like, you can see the wheels turning, but nothing comes out except a jumble of likes and ums. Her actual speaking time on The Hills is probably at the rate of one or maybe two sentences a week. If she feels up to it. As long as she's got a six pack and a new hipster boyfriend to leech on to, she's golden.
Good grief.
As for Kristin Cavallari, where the fuck did she come from? I mean, I know she did Laguna Beach, but where did she go before Lauren Conrad ditched the shit show and gave her an opportunity to be a reality tv whore again? More importantly, WHY IS HER VOICE SO HOARSE ALL THE TIME? Hasn't she heard of Fisherman's Friend or Halls? Somebody give this girl a lozenge, stat.
To be honest, I used to love The Hills. (The first and second season, when I was a young grasshopper). I ate up Lauren and Jason's "drama" and hated on Spencer (some things never change). Mostly, I can recall Heidi's cute little face with her pointy chin and dark eyebrows. Well, it's a faint memory. If you've been hiding under a rock, lucky for you, you haven't endured the awkward plastic sight that is Heidi Montag...shall we say, remodeled, for lack of a
*Mom crying* "What? You act like I have a new face or something."
If you've recently been in a grocery store or on the internet, you've seen headlines about the dysfunctional pair. Let's go from beginning to current disaster, shall we? The following are all Heidi Us Weekly covers: "I Was Betrayed By Spencer", "Why I Called Off My Wedding", "I'm Ready To Say I Do", "Heidi And Spencer Elope", "Revenge Plastic Surgery", "Her Mom's Fury", "Addicted To Plastic Surgery", "Destroyed By Fame". There's probably more, but you get the point.
What do others think of the duo? One online comment read:
Too bad all that surgery didn't do anything for her brain!!!!! She's still a retard who's so damn fake and "in love" with that tool of a boyfriend.How nice of you, anonymous commenter. In Time magazine, they were recently crowned one of the least influential public figures. The article states: "“You used to be famous for being famous. Then you were famous for getting lots of plastic surgery and selling only 658 copies of your album in its first week. Now you’re not famous. That was fast.”
658 copies? Wow, if I were her, I'd go off the deep end too.
Moving on, because they're probably marinating in this free publicity, is Brody Jenner-Lo-Holly and whoever else doesn't deserve a paragraph to themselves. Jenner is your class act douche bag, although he's much less douche-y than Pratt. Not that that's really saying much. It seems he's always finding another Playmate to fool around with, but then he always goes back to Kristin. How does her scratchy voice not get unbearable to your ears? Lo is not even worth talking about. She's average. Great, that's really good for the ratings. As for Holly, 95% of the time she's drunk, the other 5% she's crying. It sums up her life, really. Although I give her kudos for making it on to the show, she's probably getting paid more each week than the mortgage on my house.
Lastly, there's Steph Pratt. When she's not crying, she's getting DUIs, lip injections, and losing weight. Don't you remember her Us Weekly cover?
All right, I've spent way too much time being sucked into realm of fake drama for now. In fact, a new episode's on next Tuesday! Oh goody-goody gumdrops. Be sure to put on your stilettos and get ready to melt some brain cells. I'll leave you with a quote from the wise, the experienced, Dalai Lama of Hollywood.
"Once you are married, you're married."
-Audrina Patridge
4.5.10
Hi can you get out of my face? Thanks.
As if it's Tuesday already.
Sorry I've been slacking, folks. My doctor diagnosed me with a severe case of apathy.
But I've got some pills and I'm here for you..now.
Cue the bugles!! Bugles....isn't that a dog? Oh never mind, that's BEAGLES.
Regardless, today I've got a bone to pick. It's something which comes to my attention every so often, usually with the same people. And enough is enough.
You know when you get back to school after a weekend ofbinge drinking, sleeping around, hitting bongs and being rebellious doing your homework, and you go to your homeroom class, and there's that ONE person just WAITING, waiting to prey on some innocent person. Which happens to be you.
You try to escape..avoid eye contact..pretend you forgot your pencil..but it's too late. They see you. And they're going to pounce.
"Oh, HEY! Omigod. How was your weekend? Mine was so so so crazy. I went to this party Friday night and oh my god. So many things happened. It was just insane....."
A.K.A. ASK ME ABOUT MY WEEKEND ASK ME ASK ME ASK ME!
If you're weak and spineless, you can take the "easy" route and simply ask the inevitable, "What happened?" And then be forced to endure endless ramblings until the bell rings. But this isn't and will never be the path I take, because I like meaningful, preferably two-sided conversations.
Instead, I get the hell out of here before they can keep hinting that I should ask them about their weekend. I highly suggest you do the same, before your ear is literally talked off by said moron. You don't want to end up like Picasso, do you? Or was that Van Gogh..
Well this is why I don't work at an art museum.
These people are what I like to call Obnoxious. There are things us regular people do when we need to vent, such as a) tell someone who actually cares or b) write in a journal. Does it really look like I give a shit about your weekend? If I asked, then yes, I do. If I didn't, spare me.
If you need to blab explicit details, blab to the drunk hobo on the street. Or to the bus driver. But don't be surprised when he accidentally drives off the road because he's distracted by your annoying voice.
I mean, really? There comes a time when you just have to accept that the world doesn't revolve around you, and that there are many things I'd rather do besides listen to your cuhhhhraaaazy weekend. Like watch paint dry. Or scratch my nails down a chalkboard.
Do you get the picture? Stop being a half minded twit and invest in a journal. They're only like fifteen bucks at Chapters.
Or start a blog.
But be aware that it can't compete with mine. (You can try though.)
-j
Sorry I've been slacking, folks. My doctor diagnosed me with a severe case of apathy.
But I've got some pills and I'm here for you..now.
Cue the bugles!! Bugles....isn't that a dog? Oh never mind, that's BEAGLES.
Regardless, today I've got a bone to pick. It's something which comes to my attention every so often, usually with the same people. And enough is enough.
You know when you get back to school after a weekend of
You try to escape..avoid eye contact..pretend you forgot your pencil..but it's too late. They see you. And they're going to pounce.
"Oh, HEY! Omigod. How was your weekend? Mine was so so so crazy. I went to this party Friday night and oh my god. So many things happened. It was just insane....."
A.K.A. ASK ME ABOUT MY WEEKEND ASK ME ASK ME ASK ME!
If you're weak and spineless, you can take the "easy" route and simply ask the inevitable, "What happened?" And then be forced to endure endless ramblings until the bell rings. But this isn't and will never be the path I take, because I like meaningful, preferably two-sided conversations.
Instead, I get the hell out of here before they can keep hinting that I should ask them about their weekend. I highly suggest you do the same, before your ear is literally talked off by said moron. You don't want to end up like Picasso, do you? Or was that Van Gogh..
Well this is why I don't work at an art museum.
These people are what I like to call Obnoxious. There are things us regular people do when we need to vent, such as a) tell someone who actually cares or b) write in a journal. Does it really look like I give a shit about your weekend? If I asked, then yes, I do. If I didn't, spare me.
If you need to blab explicit details, blab to the drunk hobo on the street. Or to the bus driver. But don't be surprised when he accidentally drives off the road because he's distracted by your annoying voice.
I mean, really? There comes a time when you just have to accept that the world doesn't revolve around you, and that there are many things I'd rather do besides listen to your cuhhhhraaaazy weekend. Like watch paint dry. Or scratch my nails down a chalkboard.
Do you get the picture? Stop being a half minded twit and invest in a journal. They're only like fifteen bucks at Chapters.
Or start a blog.
But be aware that it can't compete with mine. (You can try though.)
-j
30.4.10
Wouldn't heaven be kind of cold and/or boring?
It's Friday, folks.
So, you all know my angry bias against strongly religious people. This is only when
a) They hate gay people
b) They push Jesus' amazingness on me (no, thank you).
Other than that, I can understandnot really but I probably should people's need to have a positive thing in their lives. As long as they don't take it too seriously.
Unfortunately, a LOT of people do. I was watching some YouTube videos about Westboro Baptist Church (They go to different cities with signs that say "God Hates Fags" etc, etc. They think all soldiers who die serving our countries deserve it. They're clearly psychopaths) and I started getting confused.
I know the majority of heavily religious people AREN'T as harsh as they are, however, just like the crazies at W.B.C., they are hung up on the idea of heaven vs. hell.
According to Wikipedia (such a reliable source, I know. Shut up) "Heaven is a transcendental realm wherein human beings who have transcended human living live in an afterlife." It is supposedly "the holiest possible place, accessible by people according to various standards of divinity, goodness, piety, faith or other virtues."
Yeah yeah.
On the contrary, there's Hell. Oooooh, the ever so daunting Hell. H-e-double hockey sticks, as us young children used to call it. I've been a little bit wary of Hell ever since I saw the original version of "Scrooge". Not enough to start praying to an imaginary god and being a fun killer, though. Hell is APPARENTLYand by apparently I mean the crazy religious people made it up to yell at us about having one too many drinks at the employee Christmas party (once again, according to my best friend Wikipedia) a place of punishment and suffering in the underworld. Yadda Yadda. Want to know more boring fictitious ideas? Head to Wiki, but I'm done spouting information.
What I'm trying to get at, is that the idea of going to heaven makes people do crazy shit. Like hold up signs that say "God Hates Fags". For some reason, I feel like these people would be rejected at the gates of Heaven. In fact, they'd probably be given a restraining order to go within 1000 feet of it. The bouncers outside Heaven night club (which has ONLY non-alcoholic beverages and doesn't allow grinding) would punch them to Mars. For some reason, I think this is a more likely situation than them enjoying the calm, happiness that is ideally Heaven.
I literally DON'T comprehend how people can live their lives in FEAR of the afterlife? You have between 80-100 years of life, IF THAT. And you're going to let what happens after you're DEAD control you all of those years? It's insane to me. What a waste. The problem is, people live in fear. Fear controls us and eats us alive. It's sick to see.
It's sickening to see people hate other people SO much that they're protesting at a funeral, because they think the dead person wasn't obeying god.
Clearly, they haven't heard of a little ditty called RESPECT by Aretha Franklin. I think they need to give that a listen and then feel entitled to go shout discriminatory remarks at funeral goers, who are there to rest their family or friend in peace.
If you're telling me that openly hating people will send you to "Heaven"? Honey you need to be institutionalized. If you're telling me that liking girls will send me to "Hell", then fine. Honestly, Hell sounds a lot cooler than Heaven. Everyone there is totally bad ass and there's lots of fire. Sweeeet. In Heaven, all you'll do is chat with other turtleneck-wearing, Bible reading, crazies like yourself. Oh and possibly hang out with that lady from the Philadelphia cream cheese commercials.
In conclusion;
When it comes down to it, who gives a flying fuck what happens to you after you die? YOU'RE DEAD. YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD.
So, you all know my angry bias against strongly religious people. This is only when
a) They hate gay people
b) They push Jesus' amazingness on me (no, thank you).
Other than that, I can understand
Unfortunately, a LOT of people do. I was watching some YouTube videos about Westboro Baptist Church (They go to different cities with signs that say "God Hates Fags" etc, etc. They think all soldiers who die serving our countries deserve it. They're clearly psychopaths) and I started getting confused.
I know the majority of heavily religious people AREN'T as harsh as they are, however, just like the crazies at W.B.C., they are hung up on the idea of heaven vs. hell.
According to Wikipedia (such a reliable source, I know. Shut up) "Heaven is a transcendental realm wherein human beings who have transcended human living live in an afterlife." It is supposedly "the holiest possible place, accessible by people according to various standards of divinity, goodness, piety, faith or other virtues."
Yeah yeah.
On the contrary, there's Hell. Oooooh, the ever so daunting Hell. H-e-double hockey sticks, as us young children used to call it. I've been a little bit wary of Hell ever since I saw the original version of "Scrooge". Not enough to start praying to an imaginary god and being a fun killer, though. Hell is APPARENTLY
What I'm trying to get at, is that the idea of going to heaven makes people do crazy shit. Like hold up signs that say "God Hates Fags". For some reason, I feel like these people would be rejected at the gates of Heaven. In fact, they'd probably be given a restraining order to go within 1000 feet of it. The bouncers outside Heaven night club (which has ONLY non-alcoholic beverages and doesn't allow grinding) would punch them to Mars. For some reason, I think this is a more likely situation than them enjoying the calm, happiness that is ideally Heaven.
I literally DON'T comprehend how people can live their lives in FEAR of the afterlife? You have between 80-100 years of life, IF THAT. And you're going to let what happens after you're DEAD control you all of those years? It's insane to me. What a waste. The problem is, people live in fear. Fear controls us and eats us alive. It's sick to see.
It's sickening to see people hate other people SO much that they're protesting at a funeral, because they think the dead person wasn't obeying god.
Clearly, they haven't heard of a little ditty called RESPECT by Aretha Franklin. I think they need to give that a listen and then feel entitled to go shout discriminatory remarks at funeral goers, who are there to rest their family or friend in peace.
If you're telling me that openly hating people will send you to "Heaven"? Honey you need to be institutionalized. If you're telling me that liking girls will send me to "Hell", then fine. Honestly, Hell sounds a lot cooler than Heaven. Everyone there is totally bad ass and there's lots of fire. Sweeeet. In Heaven, all you'll do is chat with other turtleneck-wearing, Bible reading, crazies like yourself. Oh and possibly hang out with that lady from the Philadelphia cream cheese commercials.
In conclusion;
When it comes down to it, who gives a flying fuck what happens to you after you die? YOU'RE DEAD. YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD.
28.4.10
Heidi 3.0
IT'S WEDNESDAY!
Hey people.
I'm sure you can tell by the title that I'll be discussing none other than your favourite reality TV star, Heidi Montag. Or as I like to call her, FrankenHeidi.
Here's the thing-I was following Heidi on Twitter back in the day, however, her 'PRAISE JESUS!' tweets got a little too intense for my little feed to handle. Hence, I unfollowed. I'm sure she cried that night.
Since then, my uninterest in her clearly sparked some sort of crazy wire in her brain, because she went out and did the following: eyebrow lift, fat injected in her cheeks, nose job, ears pinned back, lip injections, chin shaved down, back shaped, breasts redone (DDD), inner/outer lipo.
I got this off of the premiere episode of The Hills (research purposes only) in which her new face is introduced with this one-liner to her Mom, "What? You act like I have a new face or something."
Ha ha ha.
Hysterical.
I thought that her unveiling would be a lot more comical, but for the most part, it was just depressing.
You'd think that with all those procedures, she'd actually look good, right? But no, she looks like washed up 40 year old pornstar.
Well that sucks.
I mean, you spend big bucks to get all this foreign stuff injected into you, and what do you get? A creepy new face I wouldn't pay 2 cents for that brings your mother to tears.
That's the reality of Hollywood. There's like 1% of the population feeding into all that "perfection" stuff, and the rest of us forget to shave our armpits in the shower.
So there you go. If you ever win the lottery, you can cross "complete body makeover circa Heidi Montag" off of your list. If you even had that there. If you did I'm going to have to question your IQ. I'm going to assume it's low. Like, Heidi low. (I guess that would make sense.)
And then we've got good ole Mr. Plastic Surgeon Man saying she was doing it for her career.
I just have a question.
WHAT CAREER? The one where she struts around in low budget (and by low budget I mean, filmed by Spencer Pratt aka Dirty Rat Bastard, on a camera shittier than mine) music video on the beach singing her 99% computer sung songs. You'll laugh. I promise.
Oh okay, thanks for clearing that up.
At the end of the day, she'll just become another has-been, reality TV whore who's probably divorced (let's hope it's because Spencer falls off a cliff) who sits at home, talking to her twelve cats and leaving stalker breathing messages on LC's phone.
And the rest of us with natural cleavage will still have the priviledge of riding rollercoasters. Which is really all that matters.
Ciao.
Hey people.
I'm sure you can tell by the title that I'll be discussing none other than your favourite reality TV star, Heidi Montag. Or as I like to call her, FrankenHeidi.
Here's the thing-I was following Heidi on Twitter back in the day, however, her 'PRAISE JESUS!' tweets got a little too intense for my little feed to handle. Hence, I unfollowed. I'm sure she cried that night.
Since then, my uninterest in her clearly sparked some sort of crazy wire in her brain, because she went out and did the following: eyebrow lift, fat injected in her cheeks, nose job, ears pinned back, lip injections, chin shaved down, back shaped, breasts redone (DDD), inner/outer lipo.
I got this off of the premiere episode of The Hills (research purposes only) in which her new face is introduced with this one-liner to her Mom, "What? You act like I have a new face or something."
Ha ha ha.
Hysterical.
I thought that her unveiling would be a lot more comical, but for the most part, it was just depressing.
You'd think that with all those procedures, she'd actually look good, right? But no, she looks like washed up 40 year old pornstar.
Well that sucks.
I mean, you spend big bucks to get all this foreign stuff injected into you, and what do you get? A creepy new face
That's the reality of Hollywood. There's like 1% of the population feeding into all that "perfection" stuff, and the rest of us forget to shave our armpits in the shower.
So there you go. If you ever win the lottery, you can cross "complete body makeover circa Heidi Montag" off of your list. If you even had that there. If you did I'm going to have to question your IQ. I'm going to assume it's low. Like, Heidi low. (I guess that would make sense.)
And then we've got good ole Mr. Plastic Surgeon Man saying she was doing it for her career.
I just have a question.
WHAT CAREER? The one where she struts around in low budget (and by low budget I mean, filmed by Spencer Pratt aka Dirty Rat Bastard, on a camera shittier than mine) music video on the beach singing her 99% computer sung songs. You'll laugh. I promise.
Oh okay, thanks for clearing that up.
At the end of the day, she'll just become another has-been, reality TV whore who's probably divorced (let's hope it's because Spencer falls off a cliff) who sits at home, talking to her twelve cats and leaving stalker breathing messages on LC's phone.
And the rest of us with natural cleavage will still have the priviledge of riding rollercoasters. Which is really all that matters.
Ciao.
25.4.10
I'm selling out, but not as badly as Tim Burton
When I say
Tim Burton.
What comes to your mind? I think of a dishevelled has-been who's in desperate need of a new hairstyle and a retirement plan.
Scribbles of emo stick figures in love should be reserved for people under 14. Or rather, they should be reserved for Myspace layouts of "sC3n3 quEEns xx *".
Do you know what I mean, folks? Is anyone else simply sick to death of this guy's unoriginal films?
Nightmare Before Christmas was fine. It was fine until it was whored out by Claire's and Hot Topic and every other fucking store on the planet.
Every other movie can be described in one sentence: Helena Bonham Carter, Johnny Depp and any other greasy, slimy, creepy, 'alternative' people he could round up and give a goth makeover.
There's a difference between having a distinct style and beating an idea 'till it's fucking dead. Look at director Wes Anderson. He, along with tons of other directors, have a certain style and quirks that set them apart from others. However, it doesn't have much to do with the plot or idea. Who wants to make a variation of the SAME movie five hundred times?
You guessed it.
Tim Burton.
I especially take offense to his remakes (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Alice in Wonderland) because they were once well-written books and equally well-done movies that needed no remastering or new special effects. I'm sad to say I wasted $10 on Alice in Wonderland, because I'm a huge fan of the book and the original Disney cartoon. To this day, that is my biggest regret, contributing to the huge, douchey sell out of a person that is Tim Burton.
In fact, I can tell by the small groups forming on Facebook (to which I belong) many people agree with me. In one group, a person stated: "Screw Tim Burton and that whole emo, mallgoth, "I think halloween and christmas should be made into one holiday," I'm dark and brooding because I shop at hot topic crap."
Basically, it's safe to say, Burton, that there are better ways to deal with your immense man crush on Johnny Depp.
By the way, I'm going to finish this post by whoring myself to you by proposing you visit my other website/social networking schuff.
I will be offended if you don't click on the following links:
Follow me on Twitter or be lost, bitches.
Follow me on Twitter or be lost.Fo
Ciao.
Tim Burton.
What comes to your mind? I think of a dishevelled has-been who's in desperate need of a new hairstyle and a retirement plan.
Scribbles of emo stick figures in love should be reserved for people under 14. Or rather, they should be reserved for Myspace layouts of "sC3n3 quEEns xx *".
Do you know what I mean, folks? Is anyone else simply sick to death of this guy's unoriginal films?
Nightmare Before Christmas was fine. It was fine until it was whored out by Claire's and Hot Topic and every other fucking store on the planet.
Every other movie can be described in one sentence: Helena Bonham Carter, Johnny Depp and any other greasy, slimy, creepy, 'alternative' people he could round up and give a goth makeover.
There's a difference between having a distinct style and beating an idea 'till it's fucking dead. Look at director Wes Anderson. He, along with tons of other directors, have a certain style and quirks that set them apart from others. However, it doesn't have much to do with the plot or idea. Who wants to make a variation of the SAME movie five hundred times?
You guessed it.
Tim Burton.
I especially take offense to his remakes (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Alice in Wonderland) because they were once well-written books and equally well-done movies that needed no remastering or new special effects. I'm sad to say I wasted $10 on Alice in Wonderland, because I'm a huge fan of the book and the original Disney cartoon. To this day, that is my biggest regret, contributing to the huge, douchey sell out of a person that is Tim Burton.
In fact, I can tell by the small groups forming on Facebook (to which I belong) many people agree with me. In one group, a person stated: "Screw Tim Burton and that whole emo, mallgoth, "I think halloween and christmas should be made into one holiday," I'm dark and brooding because I shop at hot topic crap."
Basically, it's safe to say, Burton, that there are better ways to deal with your immense man crush on Johnny Depp.
By the way, I'm going to finish this post by whoring myself to you by proposing you visit my other website/social networking schuff.
I will be offended if you don't click on the following links:
Follow me on Twitter or be lost, bitches.
Follow me on Twitter or be lost.Fo
Ciao.
21.4.10
Welcome to Cougarville! Population: Your mom.
Hey readers!
So I was at the gym todayfor the first time in centuries and I overhead a conversation between two people (who are probably approaching retirement) revolving around Lululemon.
This reminded me of my first semester of Grade 11, in which two of your typical teenaged trendwhores were commenting on how they shared a wardrobe with their mother. Not their sister. Heck, not even their BROTHER. Their mom.
And it's not like their mom was rocking some classy Calvin Klein pantsuits, because if I saw someone at my school in one of those, I'd appreciate their guts. I wouldn't be sitting here, tearing them to shreds and making them go cry in their rooms, while listening to the whiny antics of Secondhand Serenade. No.
They were remarking on how their mother shopped at Artizia, and how her mom was always buying the same clothing as her.
............................Like, are you serious? I figure that being your typical teenager, you're going to throw away thousands of dollars on brand name things just to fit in. However, once you hit the age of (hopefully) twenty-five, at LEAST, you're a little more intelligent.
Well, apparently not.
The fact that, out in this big wide world, there are women over 40 sporting a TNA hoodie and TNA pants is rather disturbing.
Let's be honest. You can only pull off the cougar look if you're Courtney Cox and have your own television show. Other than that, it's unnecessary to showcase your droopy, post-baby flabtastic, age spotted body in tight spandex outfits or "trendy" clothes that also fit your seventeen-year-old daughter.
Like I mentioned in my first-ever post, the key to looking good is dressing appropriately for your body type. This means that if you're the size of a Hummer, don't be sashaying into Aritzia in hopes of coming across an XXXXXXXL tank top. It seems like the fatter you are, the tighter your outfit is. This is insanity. Who ever thought that by wearing a size small when really, a size XXL would be far more appropriate, would somehow up their sex appeal, should be banished to a Pennington's for life.
**I'd also like to take this moment to add; anything that claims "One Size Fits All" should be avoided at all costs.**
And don't try to tell me that I'm encouraging ageism. Aka discriminating against people because of their age. Shit, if you look like Megan Fox and you're over forty, please, I'm begging you, come to my gym so I can watch you run laps in some TNA pants.
..That sounded creepier than intended.
It's just that, most 40-year-olds don't look like Megan Fox. They just look like 40-year-olds who are unable to accept that they're 40. I'm proud to say my mother dresses for her age. And although I might make endless sarcastic comments while she browses in Laura Petites aka Elves R Us, I'm relieved that she isn't trying to be thirty years younger. Even if their shirt patterns are trying to bring the 70's back.
This doesn't excuse men, either. If I saw a 40-year-old guy with pants to his knees and his swag turned on (questionably) I would well, I'd probably ask K-Fed for his autograph.
When it comes to appropriate dress in high school, however, I think the rules should be much more lax. We're young and we can pull off this shiz. Unless you're 400 lbs. Skip the short shorts. Frankly, I know my principals are just angry because one walked like a peg leg pirate, and the other one looks like a Barbie that spent a little too much time in the tanning bed. And the unbuttoned shirt doesn't help.
That's about it, guys. Remember: dress to fit your body type.
And spread awareness about cougar disease.
Peace.
So I was at the gym today
This reminded me of my first semester of Grade 11, in which two of your typical teenaged trendwhores were commenting on how they shared a wardrobe with their mother. Not their sister. Heck, not even their BROTHER. Their mom.
And it's not like their mom was rocking some classy Calvin Klein pantsuits, because if I saw someone at my school in one of those, I'd appreciate their guts. I wouldn't be sitting here, tearing them to shreds and making them go cry in their rooms, while listening to the whiny antics of Secondhand Serenade. No.
They were remarking on how their mother shopped at Artizia, and how her mom was always buying the same clothing as her.
............................Like, are you serious? I figure that being your typical teenager, you're going to throw away thousands of dollars on brand name things just to fit in. However, once you hit the age of (hopefully) twenty-five, at LEAST, you're a little more intelligent.
Well, apparently not.
The fact that, out in this big wide world, there are women over 40 sporting a TNA hoodie and TNA pants is rather disturbing.
There is a word for this, folks. It's COUGAR.
PS: When did pinstripe onesies become cool? Or for that matter, sold?
Let's be honest. You can only pull off the cougar look if you're Courtney Cox and have your own television show. Other than that, it's unnecessary to showcase your droopy, post-baby flabtastic, age spotted body in tight spandex outfits or "trendy" clothes that also fit your seventeen-year-old daughter.
Like I mentioned in my first-ever post, the key to looking good is dressing appropriately for your body type. This means that if you're the size of a Hummer, don't be sashaying into Aritzia in hopes of coming across an XXXXXXXL tank top. It seems like the fatter you are, the tighter your outfit is. This is insanity. Who ever thought that by wearing a size small when really, a size XXL would be far more appropriate, would somehow up their sex appeal, should be banished to a Pennington's for life.
**I'd also like to take this moment to add; anything that claims "One Size Fits All" should be avoided at all costs.**
And don't try to tell me that I'm encouraging ageism. Aka discriminating against people because of their age. Shit, if you look like Megan Fox and you're over forty, please, I'm begging you, come to my gym so I can watch you run laps in some TNA pants.
..That sounded creepier than intended.
It's just that, most 40-year-olds don't look like Megan Fox. They just look like 40-year-olds who are unable to accept that they're 40. I'm proud to say my mother dresses for her age. And although I might make endless sarcastic comments while she browses in Laura Petites aka Elves R Us, I'm relieved that she isn't trying to be thirty years younger. Even if their shirt patterns are trying to bring the 70's back.
This doesn't excuse men, either. If I saw a 40-year-old guy with pants to his knees and his swag turned on (questionably) I would well, I'd probably ask K-Fed for his autograph.
When it comes to appropriate dress in high school, however, I think the rules should be much more lax. We're young and we can pull off this shiz. Unless you're 400 lbs. Skip the short shorts. Frankly, I know my principals are just angry because one walked like a peg leg pirate, and the other one looks like a Barbie that spent a little too much time in the tanning bed. And the unbuttoned shirt doesn't help.
That's about it, guys. Remember: dress to fit your body type.
And spread awareness about cougar disease.
Peace.
19.4.10
I probably should have planned this better.
Hey readers, who I've been accumulating, I'm excited to report. But not to worry, my ego isn't big or anything. Bow down, minions!
I've decided to address an issue that has become exceedingly worrisome only recently.
I won't beat around the bush.
I'll get right to it.
So here's the thing: My mom is in love with a gay man.
There. I said it. It's out in the open. Damn, that elephant in the room was getting fucking gigantic.
Over the past few months, it's become obvious my mom is fully in luuurve with none other than Clinton Kelly, the fashionista from TLC's What Not To Wear. Every time he's helping a new,overweight mullet adorned middle aged loser beautiful woman, my mom just gushes about how cute he is.
To tell you the truth, which I always do anyways, so that was a pointless thing to say, anyways where was I, fuck I lost my train of thought let me start over.
I don't think it's completely fair to automatically assume he's gay (makes an ASS out of U and ME) so we all must consider the following pieces of evidence:
He's on a TV show called What Not To Wear.
Telling women what to wear.
And calling their boobs "The Girls".
He also wrote a book called "Freakin' Fabulous: How to Dress, Speak, Behave, Eat, Drink, Entertain, Decorate, and Generally be Better than Everyone Else."
He-
Oh.
Oh shit.
I don't need any more proof because as I was browsing Wikipedia for witty facts to provide you, I came across this little gem: He is openly gay.
So my gaydar was correct. Although if my clues didn't help you, you're just an idiot. And/or braindead. In which case, HOW ARE YOU READING THIS? Well, it doesn't really matter to me as long as you're reading this.
Ladies and gents, I've just come across yet another dealbreaker. Yes. It gets MORE scandalous (I know, you're asking yourself, more scandalous? I can't handle it!)
As my grandmother once said, if you can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen.
Actually, my grandmother never said that exclusively.
Also, don't get out, keep reading.
HE'S MARRIED.
Yes, married.
My mother is in love with a married gay man.
I guess the moral of this tragic one-sided love story is, well, clearly, don't fall for married gay men unless you're a gay man and you're already having an affair and he's leaving his spouse or you're on an episode of Passions.
If you don't fall under those category(s?), then all I have to say is...you know how all those "motivational speakers" tell you that ANYTHING is POSSIBLE and how the SKY is the limit? Blah, blah blah?
Well, they lied.
Everything is not possible.
I've told my mother a hundred times that Clinton is frankly, a little too gay and a little too cute for her.
Okay, minus the cute part. Gawd, who do you think I am? Spencer Pratt? No, I don't have a monstrous vein sticking out of my forehead or a Playboy-esque wife with no brains and fake blond hair.
Although you can sign me up for the latter, if you'd so like.
TO. THE. POINT.
Stop chasing after gay married men, people.
It's just not gonna happen.
Unless you're Mario Lopez, who looks like Ken and could probably corrupt the best of us.
PS: Still don't believe me? Watch this.
I've decided to address an issue that has become exceedingly worrisome only recently.
I won't beat around the bush.
I'll get right to it.
So here's the thing: My mom is in love with a gay man.
There. I said it. It's out in the open. Damn, that elephant in the room was getting fucking gigantic.
Over the past few months, it's become obvious my mom is fully in luuurve with none other than Clinton Kelly, the fashionista from TLC's What Not To Wear. Every time he's helping a new,
To tell you the truth, which I always do anyways, so that was a pointless thing to say, anyways where was I, fuck I lost my train of thought let me start over.
I don't think it's completely fair to automatically assume he's gay (makes an ASS out of U and ME) so we all must consider the following pieces of evidence:
He's on a TV show called What Not To Wear.
Telling women what to wear.
And calling their boobs "The Girls".
He also wrote a book called "Freakin' Fabulous: How to Dress, Speak, Behave, Eat, Drink, Entertain, Decorate, and Generally be Better than Everyone Else."
He-
Oh.
Oh shit.
I don't need any more proof because as I was browsing Wikipedia for witty facts to provide you, I came across this little gem: He is openly gay.
So my gaydar was correct. Although if my clues didn't help you, you're just an idiot. And/or braindead. In which case, HOW ARE YOU READING THIS? Well, it doesn't really matter to me as long as you're reading this.
Ladies and gents, I've just come across yet another dealbreaker. Yes. It gets MORE scandalous (I know, you're asking yourself, more scandalous? I can't handle it!)
As my grandmother once said, if you can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen.
Actually, my grandmother never said that exclusively.
Also, don't get out, keep reading.
HE'S MARRIED.
Yes, married.
My mother is in love with a married gay man.
I guess the moral of this tragic one-sided love story is, well, clearly, don't fall for married gay men unless you're a gay man and you're already having an affair and he's leaving his spouse or you're on an episode of Passions.
If you don't fall under those category(s?), then all I have to say is...you know how all those "motivational speakers" tell you that ANYTHING is POSSIBLE and how the SKY is the limit? Blah, blah blah?
Well, they lied.
Everything is not possible.
I've told my mother a hundred times that Clinton is frankly, a little too gay and a little too cute for her.
Okay, minus the cute part. Gawd, who do you think I am? Spencer Pratt? No, I don't have a monstrous vein sticking out of my forehead or a Playboy-esque wife with no brains and fake blond hair.
Although you can sign me up for the latter, if you'd so like.
TO. THE. POINT.
Stop chasing after gay married men, people.
It's just not gonna happen.
Unless you're Mario Lopez, who looks like Ken and could probably corrupt the best of us.
PS: Still don't believe me? Watch this.
18.4.10
The Juno Awards....crushing teeny bopper's hopes since 1964.
Alright guys.
So, I felt obliged to comment on the...interesting...nature of the 2010 Juno Awards. I just turned off my TV from the live show in Newfoundland, and honestly, I've never been so relieved.
To be fair, I'm Canadian. So I can freely insult Can Con without being a biased American. I am fully Canadian (eh) and take full responsibility for theshitty amazing music that comes out of this country.
Let's review the overall results:
Firstly, something that took me by surprised-Michael Buble or Bublbewjkefth (as the random french guy so eloquently put it)raped stole all the Junos bribed the middle aged women in the audience took home 3 awards tonight. Including: Pop album of the year, Fan's choice, Single. His producer also received an award for "Havent met you yet".
Secondly, I have to bring this up. K'naan. The man can write a decent song, I'll give him that. However, his vocal chords should be locked up for committing a crime-breaking the eardrums of all Canadian viewers. He receieved anundeserved award "Artist of the year". I can't say I'd prefer Nickelback to be the winners (thank gawd their goat-like faces/voices were absent from the awards) however I'd gladly support Jbaby (aka Justin Bieber) if he had been given it. I'm too lazy to find the definition, but I'm pretty sure being an artist means you...well what DOES it mean? That you're artsy? You can play a few notes on the piano and wave your arms around? Cough, K'naan, COUGH. Oh, sorry, I'm just recovering from a bout of swine flu.
I think the people who selected this guy for artist of the year, were either:
a)being held hostage by a gang of murderers (and the Junos would be bombed if they didn't choose him)
b) deaf
c) FUCKING INSANE
d) all of the above
I'm gonna have to go with d) all of the above.
Honestly, I bet K'naan rigged this entire thing. That whole Bryan Adams schtick about helping the less fortunate? Shady. As my wise friend Paige once said "He does have a devious, snaggly-toothed grin."
How completely true! And also, anyone who wears a fedora can't be trusted. Seriously. Words to live by.
All right, enough about snaggle-toothed whatshisface. On to the important awards-like Justin Bieber.Oh, wait, he didn't WIN any awards. I bet the people who decided this are now in a mass grave. I can just see it on CNN now: Juno Committee beaten to death by vicious teeny boppers. Weapon of choice? Rolled up Tiger Beat magazines and plastic cases that once cradled the ever-so-innocent My World 2.0 album.
Har har. Don't think he deserved at least one precious Juno? Think about it: Come Juno Awards 2011, Jbaby will be back in Stratford, obese from too many diva visits to Macdonalds, homeless. Because he hit puberty.
Let's face it, One Time just isn't the same when it's sung with a voice comparable to Louis Armstrong.
We can only hope he will stay BFFLs with Drizzy aka Drake aka Aubrey aka Dude off of Degrassi, so he can keep being relevant to my life as a teenaged girl. And if NOTHING else prevails, we'll still have an endless supply of Lesbians Who Look Like Justin Bieber.
**Note: When he was performing a rather moving and soulful rendition of "Baby" sans Ludacris, avec Drake, my Granny said, "Who's that boy? He looks about 12."**
But if you're not a Negative Nancy or a Pissy Polly or a Sarcastic Sally (like yours truly) and you wanted somerainbows and bunnies more positive aspects of the Juno Awards tonight, here you go:
1) Simple Plan didn't perform
2) Neither did Nickelback
3) Neither did Stereos
4) Bryan Adams wasn't able to perform due to volcano ash
5) Emily Haines exists
You get the picture.
I mean, we all could've survived without Blue Rodeo,some fucking irrelevant group they talked about for hours A group my mom said was around in the 70's (hello, no need to go all Middle Ages on us), and that shady guy in a cowboy hat, but hey. It's Canada. 'Nuff said.
Until next time,
J
So, I felt obliged to comment on the...interesting...nature of the 2010 Juno Awards. I just turned off my TV from the live show in Newfoundland, and honestly, I've never been so relieved.
To be fair, I'm Canadian. So I can freely insult Can Con without being a biased American. I am fully Canadian (eh) and take full responsibility for the
Let's review the overall results:
Firstly, something that took me by surprised-Michael Buble or Bublbewjkefth (as the random french guy so eloquently put it)
Secondly, I have to bring this up. K'naan. The man can write a decent song, I'll give him that. However, his vocal chords should be locked up for committing a crime-breaking the eardrums of all Canadian viewers. He receieved an
I think the people who selected this guy for artist of the year, were either:
a)being held hostage by a gang of murderers (and the Junos would be bombed if they didn't choose him)
b) deaf
c) FUCKING INSANE
d) all of the above
I'm gonna have to go with d) all of the above.
Honestly, I bet K'naan rigged this entire thing. That whole Bryan Adams schtick about helping the less fortunate? Shady. As my wise friend Paige once said "He does have a devious, snaggly-toothed grin."
How completely true! And also, anyone who wears a fedora can't be trusted. Seriously. Words to live by.
All right, enough about snaggle-toothed whatshisface. On to the important awards-like Justin Bieber.Oh, wait, he didn't WIN any awards. I bet the people who decided this are now in a mass grave. I can just see it on CNN now: Juno Committee beaten to death by vicious teeny boppers. Weapon of choice? Rolled up Tiger Beat magazines and plastic cases that once cradled the ever-so-innocent My World 2.0 album.
Har har. Don't think he deserved at least one precious Juno? Think about it: Come Juno Awards 2011, Jbaby will be back in Stratford, obese from too many diva visits to Macdonalds, homeless. Because he hit puberty.
Let's face it, One Time just isn't the same when it's sung with a voice comparable to Louis Armstrong.
We can only hope he will stay BFFLs with Drizzy aka Drake aka Aubrey aka Dude off of Degrassi, so he can keep being relevant to my life as a teenaged girl. And if NOTHING else prevails, we'll still have an endless supply of Lesbians Who Look Like Justin Bieber.
**Note: When he was performing a rather moving and soulful rendition of "Baby" sans Ludacris, avec Drake, my Granny said, "Who's that boy? He looks about 12."**
But if you're not a Negative Nancy or a Pissy Polly or a Sarcastic Sally (like yours truly) and you wanted some
1) Simple Plan didn't perform
2) Neither did Nickelback
3) Neither did Stereos
4) Bryan Adams wasn't able to perform due to volcano ash
5) Emily Haines exists
You get the picture.
I mean, we all could've survived without Blue Rodeo,
Until next time,
J
17.4.10
YOU! I wanna take you to a gay bar!
Well hello there; it's been a few days. I assure you, I've got an excuse: work.
Not like, a job, work, although if you have any ideas of who's hiring, you could hook me up. But that's beside the point-I've been working away at school. I'm more than half done my anthropology course which is excellent.
Regardless, on to today's topic. I was writing up an assignment dealing with prejudice and discrimination. In fact, I was writing about the ever so prejudiced "Prop 8". Haven't heard of it?You're living in a box.
Basically-it's a clause that was added to the California consitution Nov. 2008 stating same-sex couples aren't allowed to marry.
Aka, completely and totally bogus.
Clearly, this is discrimination, right? Not just because I'm gay, but because I'm a person who knows the meaning of equal rights, I can tell this is total discrimination. It's caused devastation to the GLBTQ community, and prevented thousands of loving couples from a fundamental civil right-marriage.
Upon further research, I discovered the Prop 8 website. They provide a wide array of excuses for their homophobia, from the perspectives of "scholarly" to "political" to "religious" people. I investigated these points of view, and will recap them below.
a) Religious: God’s plan only included a man and a woman to get married. (Based on what the bible tells us....)
b) Political: Registered “domestic partners” receive the same treatment as married couples.
c) Scholarly: Same-sex couples spread AIDs and HIV. Homosexual partners are more violent, and more likely to divorce. They aren’t capable of parenting as well as heterosexual couples. Homosexuals are more likely to experience mental illness, substance abuse, suicide, and shortened life spans. Children raised by same-sex couples are likely to cross-dress, be gender disordered, and suffer emotionally. Etc, etc. The bullshit was more in-depth but I cut it down to save you from rolling your eyes right out of your head (if you aren't already.)
Hmmm.
So, by reviewing the above, we see that religious people are concerned with staying true to their "faith" and to the bible. It's funny to me how much religion can blind people and cause them to generate even more hate, though I'm SURE at some point the bible emphasizes loving your neighbour or something. By creating this monster called Prop 8, aren't they doing the complete opposite? Yes, yes they are. But because they're omniscient (sarcasm) pastor is brainwashing them into thinking homosexuality makes someone a second-class citizen, they're HATING their neighbour. They're fucking spitting on their neighbour, and stomping on their toe, and throwing red paint on their fur coat. (Except, and I don't mean to stereotype, but most lesbians I know are vegetarian and/or animal lovers.) Geez, religious folk are worse than PETA. (Don't get me wrong, PETA's the shit. They're just a little psycho at times. Meh, at least it's for a good cause.)
The point is, a lot of religious people who oppose gay marriage due to the bible are technically about as sane as the folks over at westboro baptist church. And if you haven't come across them, here's a link. Crazy religious people like you've never seen before. If you have, you KNOW that's saying something.
On to the so-called politicians view, which is vague and also completely false. By not having the ability to marry, same-sex couples are denied MANY things, including: the right to visit a spouse in a hospital and make medical decisions; employer sick and bereavement leave; inheritance rights; the right to give unlimited gifts to a spouse without gift tax; disability, pension, and Social Security benefits; the right to bring a wrongful death case; the right to refuse to testify against a spouse; or the right to prevent the deportation of a foreign-born partner by marriage, among others.
Honestly, if it were reversed, I'm sure heterosexual people wouldn't be satisfied with the title of "domestic partnership."
It's pretty insane that any man and woman can get loaded and tie the knot in Vegas, or some creepy dude in prison can get hitched to a mail-order bridewhich is extremely sketchy yet two loving people who happen to be the same sex, can't get married. Although some states have allowed it, and so does Canada eh, this isn't enough. Everyone in the world should have equal rights. Sadly, you'd think, in 2010 we would've achieved that. But no, no. The fucking bible, which holds hardly any historical or factual value, is supposedly a valid roadblock.
Ludicrous.
And I don't mean the rapper.
Thirdly, the "scholarly" person's view. First of all, what the fuck IS a scholar? Someone who's attended school? I don't care to know, because it will probably make me angry that well educated people still can have such close minded opinions. They argue that same-sex couples can't raise children well, and that their children will ultimately be cross-dressing, promiscuous, suicidal deviants. Oh, right, because that makes so much sense.
WHERE ARE THESE PEOPLE FINDING THEIR FACTS? Honestly. It's almost amusing the stuff they'll come up with to disguise their obvious homophobia. I think most sane people can realize it doesn't matter if it's a man and a woman or two women or two men raising a child. If there's love and happiness and safety, does it really make a difference? 'Cause I've seen many an episode of Intervention. Out of ALL of the episodes I've seen, only one addict has been gay. Sexual orientation does not predict whether you'll be an alcoholic, or a psychopath or a bad parent. (Although I'm sure most of you know this already.) And BTW, saying that we spread HIV and AIDs is the most boring, general stigma you could attach. You clearly need to re-think that scholar title you've so generously given yourself. I bet you're one of the idiots that still say "that's so gay", at age 40.
Overall, guys, it's safe to say I'mfucking infuriated a little frustrated by Prop 8. How can some lawyers and angry religious people take away my rights to love? Sure, I'm fortunate enough to live in Canada where I will be able to marry a wonderful girl, but what about the thousands in California? I'm a part of the GLBTQ community, therefore, their rights are my rights. They deserve them, too.
It comes down to this: Whether you sleep with girls, guys, both, or neither, you're a human being. You're constitutionally owed equal rights. I DEMAND MY FUCKING EQUAL RIGHTS, Y'HEAR?!
If this doesn't repeal in the next few months, I will be flying to California and going Chris Crocker on their asses.
In my opinion, these people need to get laid. Or hit over the head with a bible. Either/or.
Some links to further your knowledge:
NOH8 Campaign for Equal Rights
NOH8 on Twitter
Click this to help repeal Prop 8
Prop 8 (Prepare to roll your eyes out of your head.)
Not like, a job, work, although if you have any ideas of who's hiring, you could hook me up. But that's beside the point-I've been working away at school. I'm more than half done my anthropology course which is excellent.
Regardless, on to today's topic. I was writing up an assignment dealing with prejudice and discrimination. In fact, I was writing about the ever so prejudiced "Prop 8". Haven't heard of it?
Basically-it's a clause that was added to the California consitution Nov. 2008 stating same-sex couples aren't allowed to marry.
Aka, completely and totally bogus.
Clearly, this is discrimination, right? Not just because I'm gay, but because I'm a person who knows the meaning of equal rights, I can tell this is total discrimination. It's caused devastation to the GLBTQ community, and prevented thousands of loving couples from a fundamental civil right-marriage.
Upon further research, I discovered the Prop 8 website. They provide a wide array of excuses for their homophobia, from the perspectives of "scholarly" to "political" to "religious" people. I investigated these points of view, and will recap them below.
a) Religious: God’s plan only included a man and a woman to get married. (Based on what the bible tells us....)
b) Political: Registered “domestic partners” receive the same treatment as married couples.
c) Scholarly: Same-sex couples spread AIDs and HIV. Homosexual partners are more violent, and more likely to divorce. They aren’t capable of parenting as well as heterosexual couples. Homosexuals are more likely to experience mental illness, substance abuse, suicide, and shortened life spans. Children raised by same-sex couples are likely to cross-dress, be gender disordered, and suffer emotionally. Etc, etc. The bullshit was more in-depth but I cut it down to save you from rolling your eyes right out of your head (if you aren't already.)
Hmmm.
So, by reviewing the above, we see that religious people are concerned with staying true to their "faith" and to the bible. It's funny to me how much religion can blind people and cause them to generate even more hate, though I'm SURE at some point the bible emphasizes loving your neighbour or something. By creating this monster called Prop 8, aren't they doing the complete opposite? Yes, yes they are. But because they're omniscient (sarcasm) pastor is brainwashing them into thinking homosexuality makes someone a second-class citizen, they're HATING their neighbour. They're fucking spitting on their neighbour, and stomping on their toe, and throwing red paint on their fur coat. (Except, and I don't mean to stereotype, but most lesbians I know are vegetarian and/or animal lovers.) Geez, religious folk are worse than PETA. (Don't get me wrong, PETA's the shit. They're just a little psycho at times. Meh, at least it's for a good cause.)
The point is, a lot of religious people who oppose gay marriage due to the bible are technically about as sane as the folks over at westboro baptist church. And if you haven't come across them, here's a link. Crazy religious people like you've never seen before. If you have, you KNOW that's saying something.
On to the so-called politicians view, which is vague and also completely false. By not having the ability to marry, same-sex couples are denied MANY things, including: the right to visit a spouse in a hospital and make medical decisions; employer sick and bereavement leave; inheritance rights; the right to give unlimited gifts to a spouse without gift tax; disability, pension, and Social Security benefits; the right to bring a wrongful death case; the right to refuse to testify against a spouse; or the right to prevent the deportation of a foreign-born partner by marriage, among others.
Honestly, if it were reversed, I'm sure heterosexual people wouldn't be satisfied with the title of "domestic partnership."
It's pretty insane that any man and woman can get loaded and tie the knot in Vegas, or some creepy dude in prison can get hitched to a mail-order bride
Ludicrous.
And I don't mean the rapper.
Thirdly, the "scholarly" person's view. First of all, what the fuck IS a scholar? Someone who's attended school? I don't care to know, because it will probably make me angry that well educated people still can have such close minded opinions. They argue that same-sex couples can't raise children well, and that their children will ultimately be cross-dressing, promiscuous, suicidal deviants. Oh, right, because that makes so much sense.
WHERE ARE THESE PEOPLE FINDING THEIR FACTS? Honestly. It's almost amusing the stuff they'll come up with to disguise their obvious homophobia. I think most sane people can realize it doesn't matter if it's a man and a woman or two women or two men raising a child. If there's love and happiness and safety, does it really make a difference? 'Cause I've seen many an episode of Intervention. Out of ALL of the episodes I've seen, only one addict has been gay. Sexual orientation does not predict whether you'll be an alcoholic, or a psychopath or a bad parent. (Although I'm sure most of you know this already.) And BTW, saying that we spread HIV and AIDs is the most boring, general stigma you could attach. You clearly need to re-think that scholar title you've so generously given yourself. I bet you're one of the idiots that still say "that's so gay", at age 40.
Overall, guys, it's safe to say I'm
It comes down to this: Whether you sleep with girls, guys, both, or neither, you're a human being. You're constitutionally owed equal rights. I DEMAND MY FUCKING EQUAL RIGHTS, Y'HEAR?!
If this doesn't repeal in the next few months, I will be flying to California and going Chris Crocker on their asses.
In my opinion, these people need to get laid. Or hit over the head with a bible. Either/or.
Some links to further your knowledge:
NOH8 Campaign for Equal Rights
NOH8 on Twitter
Click this to help repeal Prop 8
Prop 8 (Prepare to roll your eyes out of your head.)
9.4.10
943 ways to look pretty for free (the cost of this magazine)
Hi, so.
A few things.
I've been subscribed to Seventeen magazine for maybe two years now, and I'm beginning to wonder...why.
Open a typical issue of Seventeen and you'll find the following (I promise):
a) About 100 ads for CoverGirl
b) The ugly chicks from America's Next Top Model
c) Ways to look preppy chic, boho glam, edgy goth, or flirty fun
d) An article warning a breakthrough report which upon further inspection contains absolutely nothing of substance
e) Tips on how to get guys
I got a new issue today in the mail, which happened to include all of the above. The "celeb" gracing this cover was Shailene Woodley (Don't know who that fuck that is? Trust me, you're better off) who stars in the "hit show" Secret Life of the American Teenager. Otherwise known as Terrible acting plus Molly Ringwald being Fat and Untalented. The show revolves around Shailene as she copes with being a teen mom. Gee, how original.
Anywho, Seventeen was clearly more desperate than usual this month. On the cover under her name, it says "She's not the girl you think she is." This got me wondering, what do people think of her? Do they think she's actually pregnant? If so, they'refucking stupid gullible. The only other thing I can imagine people are thinking is, Who the fuck is this girl? I read the supposedly revealing interview inside, and was just riveted by her intelligence.
Seriously? She's about as smart as a box of rocks.
The rest of the magazine was predictable and cheesy, as per usual. It included the usual quotes from teens that are supposedly just like us, however, nobody I know would ever say, "I love that these sky-high open-toed heels are feminine but edgy too!" Without sarcasm/laughter/mocking gestures. Seriously.
They managed to squeeze in some of thefugly ANTM competitors (small photos, thank you very much) which I anticipated.
Lastly, the seriously SCANDALOUS article that was a "17 Special Report". Like ooo000ooh. Watch out! A special report! The scandal was titled "Could Hollywood trick you into getting pregnant?"
I tell you, if I was standing up I would have fallen over. Out of all of the ridiculous things I've read in my life, this is by far the most ridiculous with a capital R. Someone at Seventeen should be getting fired right about now.
Whoever watched Juno and decided that being pregnant would instantly make them super indie and cool, deserves to endure a screaming baby all night every night. Because they are off their rocker. 100% delusional.
If you're gonna blame Hollywood for your pregnancy, then I'm going to have to slap you in the face. Because, oh, I don't know, there's this thing called birth control, and it's so you can control giving birth.
DUH.
I conclude with the realization that our generation is stark raving mad.
Peace,
J
A few things.
I've been subscribed to Seventeen magazine for maybe two years now, and I'm beginning to wonder...why.
Open a typical issue of Seventeen and you'll find the following (I promise):
a) About 100 ads for CoverGirl
b) The ugly chicks from America's Next Top Model
c) Ways to look preppy chic, boho glam, edgy goth, or flirty fun
d) An article warning a breakthrough report which upon further inspection contains absolutely nothing of substance
e) Tips on how to get guys
I got a new issue today in the mail, which happened to include all of the above. The "celeb" gracing this cover was Shailene Woodley (Don't know who that fuck that is? Trust me, you're better off) who stars in the "hit show" Secret Life of the American Teenager. Otherwise known as Terrible acting plus Molly Ringwald being Fat and Untalented. The show revolves around Shailene as she copes with being a teen mom. Gee, how original.
Anywho, Seventeen was clearly more desperate than usual this month. On the cover under her name, it says "She's not the girl you think she is." This got me wondering, what do people think of her? Do they think she's actually pregnant? If so, they're
Seriously? She's about as smart as a box of rocks.
The rest of the magazine was predictable and cheesy, as per usual. It included the usual quotes from teens that are supposedly just like us, however, nobody I know would ever say, "I love that these sky-high open-toed heels are feminine but edgy too!" Without sarcasm/laughter/mocking gestures. Seriously.
They managed to squeeze in some of the
Lastly, the seriously SCANDALOUS article that was a "17 Special Report". Like ooo000ooh. Watch out! A special report! The scandal was titled "Could Hollywood trick you into getting pregnant?"
I tell you, if I was standing up I would have fallen over. Out of all of the ridiculous things I've read in my life, this is by far the most ridiculous with a capital R. Someone at Seventeen should be getting fired right about now.
Whoever watched Juno and decided that being pregnant would instantly make them super indie and cool, deserves to endure a screaming baby all night every night. Because they are off their rocker. 100% delusional.
If you're gonna blame Hollywood for your pregnancy, then I'm going to have to slap you in the face. Because, oh, I don't know, there's this thing called birth control, and it's so you can control giving birth.
DUH.
I conclude with the realization that our generation is stark raving mad.
Peace,
J
Sorry Taylor, but today was not a fairytale. Take your banjo elsewhere. (I beg you)
Why hello, it's Friday.
If you didn't know that, you either live in Australia or under a rock. But yeah, TGIF and all that jazzy jazz...
To be honest, (Gurrrrl*, you know I always am) I've had better days. And by better days I mean I've been happier eating dog food. Let me elaborate. But only for a short while, because nobody wants to hear complaining. People just want to complain and want YOU to shut the fuck up and listen until they're done. And then they'll walk away, and you'll be left with negative vibes. Nuh uh. Not fun, I know.
*When I type, I tend to talk in my head. And when I'm typing I've lately been adopting a Tyler Oakley way of speaking, such as adding "gurrrrl" to random sentences. Don't know who Tyler Oakley is? Wow, you're an idiot. But here's his youtube so you can redeem yourself: http://www.youtube.com/user/tyleroakley
Moving on, about my bad day. It's not that my day was horribly horrible, it just brought out the gawky, graceless, unskilled, awkward side in me. Like, I'm talking, cringe-worthy instances.
I was assigned the task to walk my dog up to the groomer (a good 25 minute walk when your dog's fucking 90 and pees on every available pole), and because I'm a good girlhahahahah I did so. In the snow (Canada sucks).
When I arrived, I couldn't open the gate. I stood there for a good 3 mins until she came outside and told me the simple trick: Pull the yellow string. Ah, yes. How did you know I am fluently telepathic? That was my first instinct.
Putting up a sign wouldn't hurt.
Regardless, I dropped him off and turned around to leave. It took me another 4 or 5 mins to figure out how to open the gate. AGAIN. After fiddling with every doodad and gizmo in front of me, I simply pushed the gate. And it opened.
Well, okay, that was my bad.
Ahem.
I had to wait for an hour and a half, and didn't want to walk all the way home, so I headed to the nearest "diner" for coffee. When I entered, I was already feeling awkward from the gate episode. To make it evenbetter worse, two waitresses just stood and stared at me say something you dimwitted fools and so I was forced to stutter out some awkward intro, that went something like this, "Hi, I'm going to be here for a while. I was wondering if I could get a muffin and coffee?"
My God*, I'm cringing just repeating this. However. There are so many awkward, problematic things going on in that sentence I won't even bother to begin. (I'm pretty sure they don't give a damn how long I'll be there.)
*That doesn't exist.
In my defense, how the fuck was I supposed to know what to do? Once again, there was no sign directing me.
Luckily, I only paid them $3. Which is about three dollars more than I felt comfortable handing these idiots.
Anyways, you're thinking, this has got to be the end of her awkward moments today? Not quite. I went back to the groomers (successfully opening the gate) and retrieved my dog. When I was thanking her, my gum flew out of my mouth. Onto the carpet. In her house.
Aye.
I stumbled to pick it up, while wearing mittens, which it of course stuck to. I'm still trying to get the gum out. Then, I got the hell out of there with my rat of a dog.
Ladies and gentleman, and so I digress:
The moral of the story: PUT UP A FUCKING SIGN. IS THAT SO HARD? NOT ALL OF US ARE TELEPATHICALLY INCLINED LIKE YOU.
That's all,
Jaina
If you didn't know that, you either live in Australia or under a rock. But yeah, TGIF and all that jazzy jazz...
To be honest, (Gurrrrl*, you know I always am) I've had better days. And by better days I mean I've been happier eating dog food. Let me elaborate. But only for a short while, because nobody wants to hear complaining. People just want to complain and want YOU to shut the fuck up and listen until they're done. And then they'll walk away, and you'll be left with negative vibes. Nuh uh. Not fun, I know.
*When I type, I tend to talk in my head. And when I'm typing I've lately been adopting a Tyler Oakley way of speaking, such as adding "gurrrrl" to random sentences. Don't know who Tyler Oakley is? Wow, you're an idiot. But here's his youtube so you can redeem yourself: http://www.youtube.com/user/tyleroakley
Moving on, about my bad day. It's not that my day was horribly horrible, it just brought out the gawky, graceless, unskilled, awkward side in me. Like, I'm talking, cringe-worthy instances.
I was assigned the task to walk my dog up to the groomer (a good 25 minute walk when your dog's fucking 90 and pees on every available pole), and because I'm a good girl
When I arrived, I couldn't open the gate. I stood there for a good 3 mins until she came outside and told me the simple trick: Pull the yellow string. Ah, yes. How did you know I am fluently telepathic? That was my first instinct.
Putting up a sign wouldn't hurt.
Regardless, I dropped him off and turned around to leave. It took me another 4 or 5 mins to figure out how to open the gate. AGAIN. After fiddling with every doodad and gizmo in front of me, I simply pushed the gate. And it opened.
Well, okay, that was my bad.
Ahem.
I had to wait for an hour and a half, and didn't want to walk all the way home, so I headed to the nearest "diner" for coffee. When I entered, I was already feeling awkward from the gate episode. To make it even
My God*, I'm cringing just repeating this. However. There are so many awkward, problematic things going on in that sentence I won't even bother to begin. (I'm pretty sure they don't give a damn how long I'll be there.)
*That doesn't exist.
In my defense, how the fuck was I supposed to know what to do? Once again, there was no sign directing me.
Luckily, I only paid them $3. Which is about three dollars more than I felt comfortable handing these idiots.
Anyways, you're thinking, this has got to be the end of her awkward moments today? Not quite. I went back to the groomers (successfully opening the gate) and retrieved my dog. When I was thanking her, my gum flew out of my mouth. Onto the carpet. In her house.
Aye.
I stumbled to pick it up, while wearing mittens, which it of course stuck to. I'm still trying to get the gum out. Then, I got the hell out of there with my rat of a dog.
Ladies and gentleman, and so I digress:
The moral of the story: PUT UP A FUCKING SIGN. IS THAT SO HARD? NOT ALL OF US ARE TELEPATHICALLY INCLINED LIKE YOU.
That's all,
Jaina
6.4.10
Kinda a great day today.
Hellllllo, Happy Tuesday e'ryone! I actually have some exciting news to share.
Earlier today I came out properly to my mom. Of course she suspected it but putting it out there was...terrifying, but good.
So, in short, it's been a successful day.
I've got a lot of work to do so I'm not going to elaborate.
But, I'm pleased.
EDIT: Also, this morning at 4:15 AM I woke up and felt my lip stud falling out, because it turns out the little ball had fallen off. Somewhere in my bed. After 10 mins of searching I found it under my bed, with a flashlight. I then successfully put it back in! It didn't heal over!
Not entirely relevant to, well, anything, but I thought I'd add that. I'm sooo happy it didn't just...die.
Earlier today I came out properly to my mom. Of course she suspected it but putting it out there was...terrifying, but good.
So, in short, it's been a successful day.
I've got a lot of work to do so I'm not going to elaborate.
But, I'm pleased.
EDIT: Also, this morning at 4:15 AM I woke up and felt my lip stud falling out, because it turns out the little ball had fallen off. Somewhere in my bed. After 10 mins of searching I found it under my bed, with a flashlight. I then successfully put it back in! It didn't heal over!
Not entirely relevant to, well, anything, but I thought I'd add that. I'm sooo happy it didn't just...die.
4.4.10
All bibles belong in the fiction section.
HELLO! Happy Easter!
As you can see from the title, I basically celebrate Easter for the chocolate goodness and long weekend it brings.
Throughout my future posts I'm sure I'll comment on how much religion pisses me off. However...I'm tempted to do so right now aswell. Try and follow me, folks.
Religion is a monster. Some people say it saves them, gives them something to believe in, etc, etc. People: YOU NEED TO WAKE UP AND SAVE YOURSELF. Frankly, nothing except you controls your life. You behold your own beauty and your own happiness. Reading a huge book full of confusing text and getting on your knees (how raunchy) to pray to some guy who probably didn't intend on zillions of people worshipping him, is ridiculous. It's straight up stupid.
Who even wrote the fucking Bible?! Sorry to burst your idealistic bubble, but "God" didn't just think thoughts and then by chance, they magically they appeared on a page. No no. Somecrazy homeless guy dude thought he'd make a few bucks to write a book, so he made up some bogus religion one day when he smoked a little too much meth got bored.
You're probably wondering why I'm so against religion? It's not the concept of religion, per se, that I'm skeptical of. It's the effects of religions around the world. The war, the destruction , the genocide it results in. Not to mention the discrimination against LGBT people. Although this is 2010, there are still people walking around who genuinely believe, BECAUSE OF THE BIBLE, that man and woman are the only acceptable form of relationships. Could you get any more disgusting?
Even before I came to terms with my sexual orientation and realized I was gay, I NEVER had any problem with two women or two men together. It's love. It's L-O-V-E. Though there's gay people who still love God, I'm not convinced. We should be able to live and invent our own religion and self-worship instead of looking to a fictional book for answers.
I could go on for days, but I'll end it there. When I seeassholes parents bringing their innocent children to church-related protests that bash gay people, I'm not gonna be stoked about religion. In fact I'm probably just going to not respect you, at all.
With that said, thanks to all youdelusional religious folk people for letting me overindulge on chocolate today.
Happy egg hunting,
Moi
As you can see from the title, I basically celebrate Easter for the chocolate goodness and long weekend it brings.
Throughout my future posts I'm sure I'll comment on how much religion pisses me off. However...I'm tempted to do so right now aswell. Try and follow me, folks.
Religion is a monster. Some people say it saves them, gives them something to believe in, etc, etc. People: YOU NEED TO WAKE UP AND SAVE YOURSELF. Frankly, nothing except you controls your life. You behold your own beauty and your own happiness. Reading a huge book full of confusing text and getting on your knees (how raunchy) to pray to some guy who probably didn't intend on zillions of people worshipping him, is ridiculous. It's straight up stupid.
Who even wrote the fucking Bible?! Sorry to burst your idealistic bubble, but "God" didn't just think thoughts and then by chance, they magically they appeared on a page. No no. Some
You're probably wondering why I'm so against religion? It's not the concept of religion, per se, that I'm skeptical of. It's the effects of religions around the world. The war, the destruction , the genocide it results in. Not to mention the discrimination against LGBT people. Although this is 2010, there are still people walking around who genuinely believe, BECAUSE OF THE BIBLE, that man and woman are the only acceptable form of relationships. Could you get any more disgusting?
Even before I came to terms with my sexual orientation and realized I was gay, I NEVER had any problem with two women or two men together. It's love. It's L-O-V-E. Though there's gay people who still love God, I'm not convinced. We should be able to live and invent our own religion and self-worship instead of looking to a fictional book for answers.
I could go on for days, but I'll end it there. When I see
With that said, thanks to all you
Happy egg hunting,
Moi
3.4.10
Life lessons ain't all bunnies and rainbows..
Hey, ladies and gentlemen and any other creature in between! Happy Saturday. I'm trying to get into the habit of blogging every day (yes, a mountainous task, I know) even though I may not have an insanely riveting topic. But since blogs are well, blogs, and fair game to just blab on about your feelings, I feel I'm entitled to do so.
So here we go!
In the past few months, life's beenfucking crazy quite a roller coaster. I won't go into detail, because the individual experiences aren't really..the point here. Crazy ex girlfriend drama and woes of a small town bitch with a big city heart.
Basically, you hear people say often, "If I only knew what I know now..." and it truly, and sincerely drives me NUTS! Like, hello. Don't say that shit to me, dude. It makes me want to squeeze every experience and bit of knowledge they've gained (supposedly) that would make them better off. Of course, people are willing to share a few things, but never their whole life story. Understandably. That might take..a while.
However, I find it to be discouraging. I want to live my life as BEST as I can, and make the best desicions I can, and take the absolute most ideal path. NOW! I don't wanna look back in 10 years and be like "gee, I fucked those years up big time! Har har!"
I know, I know...that's not how life works. You deal with the hand you're dealt at the time, and you do the best you can. Blah-de-fuckin'-blah. That's what any sensible, grounded, self-aware chick would tell you.
But I'll tell you, straight up, it's JUST like me to be stressing about doing everything right the first time. After my last blog, you'd think I was all cool and laidback. But really, I'm more than slightlyobsessive perfectionistic person(if that's a word?) and it's something I've gotta work on. Big time.
What can I say? Not to blame it on astrology, but I've been reading up on Scorpios, and we're freakin' intense. Just to save me some brainpower, read below the exerpt I stole from a different website (http://www.astrology-online.com/scorpio.htm)
You're proooobbbbably like, aw fuck, this girl's gonna make me read ALL this? I mean, yeah, I am. You don't have to, but it basically describes me in a nutshell. A very large nutshell. A mutant walnut shell.
I'm getting off topic, but the point is, I am trying way too hard to avoid making mistakes. The irony is, for someone who doesn't wanna make mistakes, I've made a fucking trillion too many to have a clean slate. This is entirely upsetting to me when I focus on it with the microscope that is my crazy brain.
BUT-once I take a step back, I've got about eighty years to do something good. And really? I may be self-critical but even I know, that's enough time to do something right.
So, I challenge you to learn from your mistakes and not see them as black marks on the record of your life story. 'Cause I'm gonna do the same.
Until next time,
J
So here we go!
In the past few months, life's been
Basically, you hear people say often, "If I only knew what I know now..." and it truly, and sincerely drives me NUTS! Like, hello. Don't say that shit to me, dude. It makes me want to squeeze every experience and bit of knowledge they've gained (supposedly) that would make them better off. Of course, people are willing to share a few things, but never their whole life story. Understandably. That might take..a while.
However, I find it to be discouraging. I want to live my life as BEST as I can, and make the best desicions I can, and take the absolute most ideal path. NOW! I don't wanna look back in 10 years and be like "gee, I fucked those years up big time! Har har!"
I know, I know...that's not how life works. You deal with the hand you're dealt at the time, and you do the best you can. Blah-de-fuckin'-blah. That's what any sensible, grounded, self-aware chick would tell you.
But I'll tell you, straight up, it's JUST like me to be stressing about doing everything right the first time. After my last blog, you'd think I was all cool and laidback. But really, I'm more than slightly
What can I say? Not to blame it on astrology, but I've been reading up on Scorpios, and we're freakin' intense. Just to save me some brainpower, read below the exerpt I stole from a different website (http://www.astrology-online.com/scorpio.htm)
Scorpios are the most intense, profound, powerful characters in the zodiac. Even when they appear self-controlled and calm there is a seething intensity of emotional energy under the placid exterior. They are like the volcano not far under the surface of a calm sea, it may burst into eruption at any moment. In conventional social gatherings they are pleasant to be with, thoughtful in conversation, dignified, and reserved, yet affable and courteous; they sometimes possess penetrating eyes which make their shyer companions feel naked and defenseless before them.
They need great self-discipline, because they are able to recognize the qualities in themselves that make them different from other humans, and to know their utterly conventional natures can be used for great good, or great evil. Their tenacity and willpower are immense, their depth of character and passionate conviction overwhelming, yet they are deeply sensitive and easily moved by their emotions. Their sensitivity, together with a propensity for extreme likes and dislikes make them easily hurt, quick to detect insult or injury to themselves (often when none is intended) and easily aroused to ferocious anger. This may express itself in such destructive speech or action that they make lifelong enemies by their outspokenness, for they find it difficult not to be overly critical of anything or anyone to whom they take a dislike.
You're proooobbbbably like, aw fuck, this girl's gonna make me read ALL this? I mean, yeah, I am. You don't have to, but it basically describes me in a nutshell. A very large nutshell. A mutant walnut shell.
I'm getting off topic, but the point is, I am trying way too hard to avoid making mistakes. The irony is, for someone who doesn't wanna make mistakes, I've made a fucking trillion too many to have a clean slate. This is entirely upsetting to me when I focus on it with the microscope that is my crazy brain.
BUT-once I take a step back, I've got about eighty years to do something good. And really? I may be self-critical but even I know, that's enough time to do something right.
So, I challenge you to learn from your mistakes and not see them as black marks on the record of your life story. 'Cause I'm gonna do the same.
Until next time,
J
2.4.10
EPIPHANY! (Or, why I'm going to stop being under the delusion that I need to have a fully showcased set of ribs to pull off anything)
Hello readers! (If any). Welcome to my blog, where I will rant and rave about everything and anything I find worthy. I hope you enjoy!
My first rant is based around an epiphany I had about an hour ago, while browsing webstores for spring/summer clothes. I was on Cutesygirl.com, which is Forever 21-esque for a similar price tag. I kept noticing many clothing items that would just NEVER work on the average woman's body because the models had completely flat stomachs, thighs half the size of mine, and huge boobs. That is not normal, in case you haven't noticed. Then, I went to the Urban Outfitters website, only to realize that the average model probably had a BMI of about 14, and that is NOT exaggerating. A healthy BMI is between 18.5 and 24.9, FYI.
BUT I am here to share my epiphany, which is basically this: We as humans spend way too much time modelling ourselves after other people. However, this is pointless and a waste of energy because no matter how you try to convince me, we are all born unique with different genes and DNA. You will never look exactly like Nicole Richie or Kim Kardashian.
I have spent many a day fretting over my imperfections and body flaws. However, the portion of society represented in the media is TINY. The majority of us have muffin tops, deodorant marks on our black shirts (invisible? you lie, Secret), stretch marks, freckles, blemishes here and there, yellow-y teeth, and thighs that touch when we stand. I could go on forever. The point is: YOU ARE YOUR OWN BRAND. Don't try and model your brand after someone else. You then become one of those sketchy street vendors selling cherry blossom Louis Vuittons out of garbage bags.
Let's be honest, that's not a good look. And every single one of you can do better than that.
So what's the point of all this rambling nonsense, you ask? I will tell you. Quite simply. Don't dress in things that look good on other people, whether it be their body type or hair colour or race that makes the outfit work. Because you're not them. You're you.
And if you're like me, with a BMI of 21.8,a muffin top and a little extra flub around the tummy, cellulite some thighs that jiggle with no fail, and huge fucking boobs cleavage that just won't fit in a tank top made for an anorexic 8-year-old very thin person, I suggest you start appreciating you.
Because your own unique brand is much more special than a cheap knockoff.
PEACE.
My first rant is based around an epiphany I had about an hour ago, while browsing webstores for spring/summer clothes. I was on Cutesygirl.com, which is Forever 21-esque for a similar price tag. I kept noticing many clothing items that would just NEVER work on the average woman's body because the models had completely flat stomachs, thighs half the size of mine, and huge boobs. That is not normal, in case you haven't noticed. Then, I went to the Urban Outfitters website, only to realize that the average model probably had a BMI of about 14, and that is NOT exaggerating. A healthy BMI is between 18.5 and 24.9, FYI.
This is printscreened off of the Urban Outfitters website I visited.
HELLO?!! NO ONE LOOKS LIKE THIS! UNLESS THEY ARE EXTREMELY ILL OR BORN LIKE THIS.
Yeah, I'm just gonna stop pretending like I will ever look like this. Seriously. You should, too.
So, after browsing these horrifying websites, I had had enough of petite frames selling me clothes I can not POSSIBLY fit into without restricting my diet to a measly 400 calories and expanding my exercise to about 3 hrs a day. The worst part is, many many many young woman do this because they're modelling themselves after these women who are usually just born extremely thin.
Look people, I'm not here to preach about a) how dieting leads to eating disorders, because a) if you ARE anorexic, you sure as hell don't give a fuck. and if you aren't, then you can basically find anything on the internet. i'm ALSO not preaching about the simplicity of b) loving yourself. 'Cause that takes time and effort and a lot of thinking and soul-searching. And it's not easy. Although it's a good idea. BUT I am here to share my epiphany, which is basically this: We as humans spend way too much time modelling ourselves after other people. However, this is pointless and a waste of energy because no matter how you try to convince me, we are all born unique with different genes and DNA. You will never look exactly like Nicole Richie or Kim Kardashian.
I have spent many a day fretting over my imperfections and body flaws. However, the portion of society represented in the media is TINY. The majority of us have muffin tops, deodorant marks on our black shirts (invisible? you lie, Secret), stretch marks, freckles, blemishes here and there, yellow-y teeth, and thighs that touch when we stand. I could go on forever. The point is: YOU ARE YOUR OWN BRAND. Don't try and model your brand after someone else. You then become one of those sketchy street vendors selling cherry blossom Louis Vuittons out of garbage bags.
Let's be honest, that's not a good look. And every single one of you can do better than that.
So what's the point of all this rambling nonsense, you ask? I will tell you. Quite simply. Don't dress in things that look good on other people, whether it be their body type or hair colour or race that makes the outfit work. Because you're not them. You're you.
And if you're like me, with a BMI of 21.8,
Because your own unique brand is much more special than a cheap knockoff.
PEACE.
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