Monday, April 14, 2008

Bumper Stickers

Last year, I decided to put an IU Law sticker on my took me about 4 months to finally decide on a good one and get up the nerve to stick it on my little Focus friend. Thus, I am baffled at the lack of thought people put into placing bumper stickers on their cars-bumper stickers that are much less benign than a simple
"Indiana University." By less benign, I don't mean malevolent. Of course there are those kinds, but I know what motivates the assholes that put them on their car to do so. (It's the same thing that makes them rev their engines at stop lights and gel their hair). What I mean are the utterly stupid and pointless ones that people stick on their cars without a second thought. Here are a few:

"Those who work don't know how to fish"
Umm...doesn't EVERYONE know how to fish? You stand there, bring your arm behind your head, then propel it forward. After that, you sit around and drink beer for approximately 5 hours. If something seems to be biting your line, it's probably seaweed, but you can fake excitment and wind up your little string if you want. Fishing accomplished.
I get the point though, we all work too hard, we should just do something relaxing like fish instead of getting all worked up over the Dow Jones Industrial Average, blah blah. A more accurate sticker would read: "Those who work don't have time to sit around and drink beer all day with a stick in their hand, probably because they are too busy supporting their no-good Uncle Chip, who refuses to work and, instead, fishes all day." So maybe I'm not the best bumper sticker writer, but at least mine would be practical.

"And on the Seventh Day, God created Bagpipes."
I dare you to tell me I'm making this one up. I saw it every single day that I walked home from class in college on a car in a parking lot near my apartment. And not one day passed that I didn't see it and think, "Who the hell would put that on their car?" I mean, bagpipes suck. They're loud, the sound they make is painful, and they're gigantic. I pray for the poor kids that take up the bagpipes and have to carry them onto the school bus each day. But that's fine, to each his own. I accept that some people love the soulful tunes that eminate from these bags of air. But I cannot accept that there are people on this earth that love them so much that they see them as a gift from God. It's not a very likely scenario, at least to me, that, after God made the planet and all the animals and stuff, he was like, "Alright, now all I have left are Adam and Eve and some giant plaid bags with tubes coming out so they can play "O Danny Boy" for all of the Garden to hear." And besides, even if that were true, first God would have to create PLAID. Duh.
Anyway, I've thought about several things I truly love, but that I would still not place a similar bumper sticker on my car for.
"And on the Seventh Day, God created Edy's Slow-Churned Ice Cream"
"And on the Seventh Day, God created the Terry's Village catalog"
"And on the Seventh Day, God created 'Jon and Kate Plus 8'"
Nope, these would all suck. Man created all of these things, including bagpipes, which suck the worst out of all four items. God created man, who also, in turn, created a horrible bumper sticker proclaiming a man-made nuisance to be a gift from God. Funny how the universe works.

"Cement parking lots are best."
I've kept this one locked away in my heart since high school. I still have yet to understand it. Is there some sort of underground subversive force trying to push an anti-cement agenda that we just don't know about? What else are parking lots even made out of? Gravel, I guess. And, you know, now that I think about it, cement parkings lots are way better than gravel ones. Sometimes, if you accelerate too fast in gravel, your wheels spin. Plus, gravel gets into your shoes. I HAVE SEEN THE LIGHT! Cement parking lots ARE best! F it, I'm going to Ebay to see if I can get myself one of these bumper stickers.

Tuesday, April 8, 2008


I have to update my old people post with a new story. The other day E and I were sitting on the front "porch" of our apartment eating dinner with our dog. We live in what can loosely be termed a shithole. Thus, the people that live at our apartment complex that aren't students at IU are, for the most part, crazy people. This isn't me being mean, I'm just giving you all an honest assesment of the population of the complex.
Anyway, there we are enjoying the first warm day Bloomington has had in 162 days, when an older woman that lives across the way strolled past us with her tiny chiuaua. I don't want to ruin anyone's day/life, but, to get the story right, I must tell you that she was wearing some sort of incredibly high-waisted, incredibly tight spandex pants...I hope I don't need to go into further detail to get across the point that we could see things no human should ever be forced to see. If water-boarding gets old at Gitmo, they could send this lady over there in those pants and the terrorists would sing like canaries.
So, she walks her little dog right up in front of our porch. Neither E or I are particularly friendly people nor tolerant of old folks so we obviously avoided looking at her. Nevertheless, she just stood there, about 6 feet away, staring at us. Just. Staring. This went on for a good 45 seconds...I get a sick feeling in my stomach even thinking about it now.
Finally, she asked if our dog was the one making all that noise earlier in the day. Our dog has a love/hate relationship with his crate that occassionally causes him to wail like a toddler when we're gone. No one that lives in our building has EVER complained about it...mostly b/c they are all students who have lives and are, thus, not home during the day to hear him. This woman, however, has complained to the apartment management about him crying. Yes, this woman, who lives in a completely different building about 100 feet away from where we live. You know why? Because old people are MEDDLERS. Whatever, though, she can bitch all she wants because the management told us not to worry about it. So, this is all beside the point.
We barely answered her after she dissed our dog, but, NATURALLY, she didn't take the hint. More staring for about 30 more seconds. Then, a discussion about, I kid you not, the bowel movements of her dog. Ohhh yes, her dog had bad breath so, of course, she had to change his food! Well, he didn't like this food, isn't that interesting? But, don't worry, he finally ate it on Sunday. And, as if you weren't concerned enough, he FINALLY pooped later Sunday evening. PHEWWWW!
Eventually, either our disinterest made an impact or her craziness made her forget where she was and she walked home-only to emerge a few minutes later, at 7:30 in the evening, with the sun still at least 1 hour from setting, in her pajamas and bathrobe.
Sigh. I don't really have a concluding sentence. I just thought that maybe if I wrote about it, the memory would go away...

Friday, March 28, 2008

George W. Bush

I don't generally like to talk about politics unless and until I'm in the mood to raise my blood pressure to dangerous levels. Since I've had a migraine all day, I'm not going to get into the Bush tax cuts that only benefit the people who need money the least. Nor am I going to discuss the No Child Left Behind Act, which, as we all know, leaves children and even entire schools behind everyday. Nope, definitely don't want to talk about the destruction of civil liberties that was the Patriot Act or his indifference to the suffering of the poor following Hurricane Katrina or his blatant lies to the American people regarding the "involvement" of Saddam Hussein in 9/11 or, good Lord, I'm going to have a stroke.

But I don't have to talk about these things to discuss why I hate the Dubya so much. There's so much about him as a person, not even as a President, that I dislike.
First, he's a moron. I once heard someone say that if he's the President, he MUST be smart. Wrong. I definitely believe he plays up his "Ole Slowhand McIdiot" routine so that the average American will say, "Now, here's a guy that's almost as dumb as me. Elect him, by golly, he's so much less boring than the other one, Al BORE (see how clever and quick-witted the average American is?!)." However, you have to have attained a certain level of legitimate dim-wittedness to feel ok saying something like "Do you have blacks, too?" to the Brazilian President, or "You teach a child to read, and he or her will be able to pass a literacy test" at a press conference.
Newsflash, America: Dubya's idiocy is not lovable or endearing. It does not make him a "real" guy, and it certainly doesn't make him a statesman. Maybe I'm just being high-minded, but I would like my President to have a least a vague grasp on pronouns and the way in which we use them in the English language. Do you know why? Because he is the leader of the most powerful nation in the free world! And we can't try get rid of the little shit for at least four years, unless, of course, he gets a blow job from a chubby woman.

I guess I am "misunderestimating" him a bit, though. I mean, after all, he may not be that smart, but he's still President material, right? Oh wait, no, he's not, just watch him speak. Whenever I'm feeling particularly masochistic, I'll watch a Bush press conference. The subject could be any number of very serious topics. Without fail, though, he stands there at his little podium with a shit-eating grin on his face. If I ever meet the big W, ya know, at a bar or something, the first and only question I will ask him will be "WHAT IS SO GODDAMN FUNNY?!" That's usually what I scream at the television, anyway. But seriously, what is it, exactly, that he's so entertained by? Yes, George, isn't it just hilarious that the U.S. death toll in Iraq has topped 4,000? And doesn't it just tickle you pink that North Korea has begun testing its nuclear arsenal? Oh, George, what a side-splitting story about the mortgage crisis!
Someone should tell Georgie Boy that, even if you're so wealthy, powerful, and out-of-touch that you don't have to worry about war casualties or recessions, you would do well to feign interest in these subjects when talking to the American people. And, even if you're so indifferent that faking interest is too burdensome, at least suppress the urge to grin like an ape.

Ok, I can't talk about Dubya anymore or I won't survive until morning. OBAMA RULES!

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Old People

The other day, I just needed to run into the grocery to get one thing. So, my boyfriend (we'll call him E) dropped me off at the door and proceeded to park in a spot in the lot outside the grocery to wait for me. While I was gone, an old man emerged from his shopping trip and got into the car directly across from where E was parked. Soon thereafter, E heard a honk. He looked up and, sure enough, it was the old man, honking at him to back out of the parking spot so that the old man could pull through instead of backing up. Naturally, E found this to be absurd and ignored him. But this persistent octogenarian would not be ignored! He continued to honk and stare until E finally (and incredulously) gave in and backed out of the spot! The man pulled through and drove away. This story perfectly exemplifies my beef with old people.

Apparently the slow crawl towards death makes old people feel superior to others. They do whatever the hell they want without any explanation. They cut in front of you in lines and don't even look at you while they're doing it! And there's nothing anyone can do about it because who wants to be that asshole that yelled at the old person? I'm convinced half of them fake feebleness and dementia just to get away with shit. But who can blame them? It certainly works. Even my stubborn boyfriend was no match for the powers of old people. The old man is his story probably would have sat there all day honking at him before he would allow some young "buck" to make him back up from a parking spot when he could easily pull through. As long as he got home before his 4:00 dinner, his life wouldn't have been affected in the least.
In hindsight, it was probably best to make his exit from the grocery as easy as possible because we all know how terrible old people are at driving. At what age do you forget that turns are to be made from turn lanes not from whatever f-ing lane you're in? Someone should do a scientific study on this. And why exactly does being old make you drive so slow? I've racked my brain, and I simply can't explain it. I would think that if the sand was close to running out of the hourglass for me, I would always be in a hurry! Especially if I was heading to Wendy's for lunch, which of course I would be because all old people love Wendy's. Don't believe me? Next time you drive by one, count how many blue hairs you see inside enjoying a delicious baked potato. If it's not at least 4, you should alert the authorities because something must have happened to all the old folks in your town.

And then, of course, there's the conversations. Old people have NO filter...true to form, they say whatever they want whenever they want. Please recall my earlier story about the old women discussing diarrhea loudly in a waiting room. Often, they'll talk out loud to nobody in particular. This is especially awkward for us young-folk, who usually feel obligated to pretend listen while desperately hoping beyond hope that the person will forget what they were saying and give up. There is an elderly gentleman in my law school class (no, really), and I don't even want to get into the kinds of conversations he has in class. And they occur at the volume level of a sonic boom because he clearly has some sort of hearing loss/indifference to how loud even his whispers are.

Though I dread getting older, I am excited to reach an age where I can do anything I want without impediments. I plan on sending back every item of food I get at resturant, making people as uncomfortable as possible by discussing bodily functions on all buses and airplanes, and "forgetting" how to work my cell phone so that nobody can ever call me again. It will be great!

Friday, March 7, 2008

Law School

Law school is, without a doubt, the worst thing I have ever experienced. I think I had more fun when I had dry socket after getting my wisdom teeth ripped least then I got take Oxycontin.
Anyway, last year (year one of hell), I stayed up until 3 a.m. during finals writing this rap instead of studying. I'm a pretty productive person.
I can't lie, the idea was based on a video I saw on You Tube that also utilized the sweet beats of "This is Why I'm Hot" and was also entitled "This is Why You Suck." It was dedicated to Duke Basketball, however. It's a quality video that I would put on here too if I felt like trying to find it. Duke sucks.
I am not about to create a video of myself doing this rap...this would be an awkward experience for everyone involved. However, I did just find the lyrics in my saved documents while looking for my resume, and I wanted to share them with the 4 people that read this blog! So, you can put on a little show for your family and friends by rapping the lyrics yourself while playing the Mims video, enclosed herein.

Ok, well, here goes.

This is Why You Suck, Law School
This is why you suck
This is why you suck
This is why, this is why, this is why you suck.
You make my life hell, and that's why you suck.
This is why, this is why, this why you suck.

This is why you suck.
I don’t got a chance.
I can get a C doing everything I can.
I’ve never felt so dumb.
I think I’m gonna crack.
And I think that I’ve lost it
I’ll never get it back.
I try to get property,
The RAP is whack.
My head it starts to bounce.
As soon as I do the math.
But in the Civ Pro
Geyh loves to take it slow.
But even when I read,
I don’t know what I do not know.
And if you need to study
There’s no time anyway
From torts to Con Law
We have it ereyday.
He called on me just now
It takes my breath away
I’m in that law hell
I’ll never forget today
And when I wanna die
People they wonder why
They ask me aren’t you smart they tell me I’m fine
They ask me why I think I won’t survive.
They ask me why I do it and simply I reply

This is why you suck.
People here are nuts.
Every other one
Another bitch, another putz.
16 tools, 24 dorks.
44 jerks, IU gimme what you got.
I’m tryin to think I’m smart
And now I know I’m not
And they’ll remind me daily that they know a lot.
If you need advice, you’ll get all they got.
Tell them what you need, you know they even think they’re hot.
I call ma homie Kar, meet me at the bucks.
I hit that place cause the people there don’t suck.
I stay far from the school.
See that place is such a drag.
Find me at different places, where there are not all douchebags.
For those who say they know me, know I’d rather go unseen.
Because I’d never know how to rub noses with the dean.
I know it seems mean, jealous is how I seem
But when I say it sucks, my dear friend, this is what I mean.

This is why you suck.
Don’t think I forgot
Ask me what I paid and I say yeah I paid a lot.
And then I’m taking loans, that I know I should not.
Cause when I graduate, I’ll forget all I was taught.
So hop in my car
I’ll tell you all about
There’s workers here all day, they make the studying so hard.
They hammer all day and take up lot’s of space.
But every time I see em I wish I could take their place.
And why’s it so hard
To try to plug your cord, underneath the desk
And then you hit your head, which makes you hit the kid, sits next to you
So when you come back up the whole row stops and stares
Then we all get bored, the profs get ignored
Little do they know I’m reading message boards
I sent an IM, nobody hit reply.
So I play Bubbles, Cause I got that fire.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

IU Undergrads

I know, I was once an undergrad...I qualified the title with "IU" so I wouldn't have to deal with my inner voice calling me a hypocrite. Plus, I was cool as an undergrad. Still am, in fact. So, whatever, inner voice, why don't you just SHUT THE HELL UP. Anyway, IU Undergrads are more obnoxious than Weird Al Yankovic (who is, of course, trumped by Ty Pennington). Here's why:

1. Cell phone conversations on the bus: It's annoying enough that they're the kinds of tools that have no problem speaking at full volume on a bus. But the conversations they have are the kinds of conversations that make you want to stick pencils into your eardrums. Similar to ones involving your parents and any manifestation of the word sex.
First, they talk about how totally wasted they were the night/day/weekend before. The girls are excited about it: "Oh my gah, I was sooo drunk, I don't even remember getting naked or arrested! HAHAHAHAHA!" The guys try to play it off like they don't think they're cool, while making sure everybody knows they are, in fact, badass because they finished off, like, a whole bottle of Captain Morgan: "Bro, you don't even know, dude, I can't believe I didn't puke, but I did like 4 keg stands...bro." Then, they talk about the hookups they had as a result of aforementioned drunkeness. First of all, this is disgusting. No one wants to know about this, not even the guy who woke up to find your chubby ass in his bed. Second, it's not impressive. Maybe they've never heard of beer goggles, but since these interesting pieces of eyewear allow nearly anybody to "get some action," the fact that these obnoxious people did does not speak to their looks, skills, or personality. All of which are, as a general rule, lacking.

2. Fashion: If you want to dress like an IU undergrad, you must heed the unspoken rules.
First, find the tightest leggings you possibly can. If you're a size ten, buy a size four. If you're a size four, shop in the kid's section. There are several reasons for this size regulation. One, you definitely want to create as much back fat as you can because everyone loves to see rolls. Two, and this is really important, you must have, at all times, a camel toe. It might seem vulgar and inappropriate, but if you want to fit in, people have to feel like they're sexually harassing you just by accidentally glancing at your lower body.
Second, wear any top you see fit, but just ensure that it adequately shows off your back fat and camel toe. Sweaters are a good idea, but you can wear a North Face jacket too, as long as it's short enough.
Finally, spend 20-30 minutes putting your hair up in a messy side-pony that looks like it actually took 1 minute to do. The messier, the better, but put care into the placement of each individual hair, because you don't actually want to have bed-head, duh.
Easy. At all times, especially in class, wear either your pajams or those striped IU warm-up pants. Whereas the girls just try to look like they don't care about their apperance, the guys actually don't give a shit. This is due, of course, to the above-referenced beer googles, which will allow girls to swoon over them regardless of their looks. And by swoon, I do mean pass out.

Ok, I think I've bitched enough about IU undergrads. They're annoying and Kelvin Sampson is a CHEATER!

Louisville Cards Fans (the "L Raisers")

I'm a girl and I don't keep up with sports that much, at least in comparison to my psychotic boyfriend. However, I hate Louisville fans. I could go on and on about why, but I feel like this video will provide a succinct and obvious explanation.

Prediction: This kid will shoot up a school within the next 2-4 years. I'm not being callous, just realistic.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Sunday lame-ness

There's not much that's worse than the feeling you have in your stomach all day Sunday. I imagine it's similar to the dread felt by those awaiting execution. And it doesn't matter if you have to work Monday or go to school or whatever. Unless you're planning on leaving for Disney World the next morning, Sunday blows.

But Sunday doesn't just suck because it's the day before Monday. There's also the Sunday lame-ness that befalls the nation. Where I live, you can't buy alcohol on Sunday. Last Sunday, I was grocery shopping with my boyfriend, and he picked up a 6-pack of beer. Later on in the shopping trip, a grocery store manager approached us in the midst of an aisle and ripped the beer from our immoral hands. Nothing could make a dork like me feel more like an alcoholic. Now, I don't know a lot about religion, so it's hard for me to grasp this law. Is not buying beer on Sunday part of the Ten Commandments? Is it part of the story of Jonah and the whale? And just what is the story of Jonah and the whale? I don't know because the one time I've heard that title was in religion class in college when my professor said, "And, of course, all of you know the story of Jonah and the whale." Needless to say, it was an inwardly awkward moment for me. Anyway, I guess God doesn't want us buying beer on Sunday. Feel free to get bombed off the beer you bought yesterday, though. Who are we fooling with this Sunday prohibition?? It's not like they put all the alcohol's sitting there in the aisle, sinning away. So, fine, the Bible tells us we shouldn't buy beer, wine, or liquor on Sunday. Pretty sure the Bible also tells us to be nice to one another, but that clearly doesn't phase the bitch that refused to give me the courtesy wave when I let her boat-sized SUV pull out in front of me as she left the CHURCH on 3rd street.

Alright, I already can't buy my wine for Lipstick Jungle girls night on Sunday. (It's such a fresh, smart, and sassy show...) But, now imagine this. My friend picks me up around 8 in the morning so we can deliver those stupid Real Estate books that list all the real estate in the area. In reality, we will deliver approximately 3 boxes of said books, and recycle the other 3 after we've hit up all the hotels that give away free popcorn and cookies. Anyway, she picks me up and I'm hungry (and in high school, thus, I have the metabolism of a marathon runner and eat whatever the hell I want). ALL I want out of life at this moment is a chicken biscuit from Chick-Fil-A. Juicy and warm, with just the right amount of spice. As we pull in, we have a horrifying realization...CHICK-FIL-A IS CLOSED ON SUNDAYS. This event happened to me about 7 years ago, and, as you can see, the emotional damage it caused won't soon fade. It's one thing to not sell alcohol on Sunday because the law tells you too. It's quite another to close altogether one day a week of your own volition! How big of a nerd is this Mr. Chick-Fil anyway? I remember getting a kid's meal there when I was little, and the prize was a cassette tape about two square kids that went on a religious adventure. Even as an innocent ten-year-old, my reaction was "What the fuck?" And this is, naturally, the only appropriate reaction because who wants to get preached to just because they can't resist a delicious waffle fry?

The God I believe in would never expect someone to sacrifice chicken biscuits in the name of religion. It's just so unecessary. I hope that Mr. Chick-Fil recognizes that everyone who tries to go to his resturant on Sunday ends up cursing him to H-E-double hockey sticks anyway. I know I do! And I have a lot of pull with God because I don't buy wine on Sundays.

Sunday, February 3, 2008

Media Coverage of Irrelevance

I'm not talking about shitty local news now, where the most exciting thing they have to report is a wing-eating contest at the local Ryan's. I'm talking about national news outlets. We are currently lanquishing in a failure of a war, our economy blows, and North Korea might try to destroy the world with nuclear weapons, but, hey, did you hear Britney Spears went to the hospital? No, seriously, in the middle of the night! Oh, and also she might be bi-polar and her parents, WAIT, I DON'T CARE. I spent last summer in family court...people crazier than her lost their kids everyday. And the shit they did was way more entertaining than anything Brit has done lately. Example: The mother who's custody over her child was being questioned because her boyfriend, Porky, who, "surprisingly enough" (her words), died while eating a steak, referred to her child not as Jessica (my words-I made it up) but instead called her shithead. Or the ex-husband who accused his ex-wife's new boy toy of beating her, to the point that he "popped her implant." Springer's writers couldn't come up with richer material than that!
My point is, Britney is not the first drug-using, mildly insane, barefooting mother to lose her kids to a father who's only marginally more attractive as a human. Watching her walk into a McDonald's with a pink bob wig on top of her bald head is sad, but it's much sadder to realize that it's some people's career choice to follow her around all day just to get a shot of her picking her wedgie or whatever other boring shit she does. Wouldn't you be crazy too if your every move was tracked on Good Morning America? Leave this poor psychopath alone!

This may sound callous, and it probably is, but I get it, Heath Ledger died. I think it's incredibly sad that anyone has to die, especially someone that leaves behind a child. And, sure, he was a pretty good actor. If every gay guy was as hot as him and that other dude in Brokeback Mountain, maybe all those religious right nutcases would stop treating homosexuals as sub-human. But, really, is it important to our mourning process as a nation to know that he was a chess-lover? certainly thinks so. His family can't be happy with all this coverage, and I doubt he would be pleased either. I mean, if I were to die, I wouldn't want to burden America with stories about how much I loved shopping on or what my favorite Blow Pop flavor was (Green Apple, duh...what do you like? Grape? Please.) Let's just let these people get through one day without seeing an utterly useless story about their son/father plastered all over the news.

I'm not trying to be one of those elitist asses who thinks that stories like this should never be on the news and that news anchors should spend all day opining about world events and politics. Although, while we're on the topic, as much as I don't care about Tom Brady's foot brace, I care even less about the fact that Barack Obama is trying to quit smoking. Anyway, it's just that once a story has been reported for a day, that story should be over. If the newspeople need more stuff to fill airtime, I personally think they should just play a bunch of You Tube videos of various people doing the Soulja Boy dance. That's quality TV!

Monday, January 28, 2008

Guinness World Records

This is inspired by a show I watched last night, entitled 100 Greatest Guinness World Records. To be honest, I just winged it on the title, but it was something to that effect. I admit, a few of the records are intriguing. You should have seen the Fattest Twins...they weighed like 1,400 pounds total or something. They were shown eating breakfast, and they each ate like 20 strips of bacon and 13 poached eggs. I'm not sure why we're encouraging this morbid, digsuting obesity by giving them what looks to me like an award, but who am I to judge? (I am judging...eating that much bacon should be a felony punishable by at least 3 years in jail and/or a fine of not less than $1,500)
Anyway, most of these records are absolutely ridiculous. Here's just a few highlighted on the show last night:

*Largest gathering of people dressed as gorillas: Now, here's some people that are really making a difference in the world! I don't get it...does stuff like this happen and then Guinness jumps on it, or did these people get together with the idea of breaking this record? Was there a previous record and, if so, what the hell is wrong with people? Upon further investigation, it seems the gathering was to raise funds for the Dian Fossey Gorilla Fund. Dian Fossey (January 16, 1932 – December 26, 1985) was an American Zoologist who completed an extended study of eight gorilla groups. She observed them daily for years in the mountain forests of Rwanda, initially encouraged to work there by famous paleontologist Louis Leakey. (Wikipedia, "Dian Fossey." January 2008). Well, that makes me feel a little better about the mental state of those that set this record...but it doesn't make it any less creepy.
*Most eggs crushed by wrist in one minute: No, don't re-read, you read that correctly the first time. Yes, the man I saw last night was able to bend his wrist backward, thus enabling him to crack an egg between the back of his hand and the top of his forearm. But don't worry, there's a lot of skill involved in this activity-he explained how after he's crushed an egg in this manner, his hand/arm become slick with egg juice, thus making the subsequent crushes very trying. He's so brave to have persevered through the first egg crush he ever did after he got all that shit all over him...most people would have given up. Actually, most people would have never realized they had this "talent" at all because they would be too busy doing things that are productive and rational like cleaning, shopping, and obtaining boyfriends/girlfriends. The best part about this one is that the record is...FOUR! The World Record is FOUR. This shouldn't even be considered for television until the records is, at the very least, in the 500's.
*Most claps in a minute: This man's mom must be SO proud. He would be a really annoying guest at the State of the Union Address. There's nothing more I feel I need to say about this one.
*Longest ski fall survived: Really? So, now you can get Guinness World Records for things you have NO control over? This woman literally got a GWR (yeah, that's right I abbreviated it) for not dying! For the love of God! I bet she was really excited, after tumbling like a rag-doll for a good 10 minutes and being carried down a mountain on a stretcher, barely conscious, concussed, and covered in bruises, to find out that she won a Guinness World Record! Probably one of the shining achievments of her life. Which is how the narrator of the show I watched last night seemed to think it went. Here's a direct quote: "Lucky to be alive and lucky to have a new world record." This is such a mind-numbingly idiotic statement that I don't even know where to begin in critcizing it. So, I'll just say I hope I'm never as "lucky" as this woman, GWR or not.

That's just a small sampling of the absurd GWR's there are. Most of these seem pretty easy to set because they are amazingly detailed things that no other person or group of people would ever be tempted to try.
I think you know where I'm going with this...I am going to try to set a NEW WORLD RECORD. Tommorrow, at 9pm, I will attempt to break the record for the most bird chirp noises made while washing dishes. If you want to come over, let me know. I called some local news stations to report the story. Please note this perfectly-timed reference to my last post re: local news. THIS, readers, is good writing. World record writing, perhaps...

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

I can't let this go.

My boyfriend recently alerted me to this video...
Be warned, if you are easily made sick by others embarassing themselves you probably shouldn't watch this video.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Local News

I really don't understand why the local news is so bad. But it's terrible no matter what city you're in. What resources are local news stations lacking that national news outlets have? Obviously money, but this just doesn't explain how bad every aspect of local news.

First, let's discuss the newspeople. When I watch Matt Lauer and Meredith Vieira on the Today show every morning, I see two natural-looking people. Sure, Matt is balding, but that just makes him more real. Meredith wears sensible boots and cute wool coats. They have breezy, light-hearted conversation, and I really feel like they're my friends! (stop laughing at me). Even Al, who might be the most obnoxious person on the face of the planet (after, of course, Ty Pennington, who spends that entire home makeover show screaming into a bullhorn) at least resembles a real human-the rotund, but lovable oaf-type character. Then, there's the local newspeople. The women of the news are nightmare-inducing. Their faces actually look like plastic faces! Like, instead of foundation they choose each morning to cover their faces with a nice coat of surfboard wax. Their hairstyles are either from a different era altogether or simply absurd. Until very recently, I thought one of the women on the Indy news had a short, boy-type hair cut. Then, one morning, she wore it differently, and I realized it had just been plastered to her head for the past few weeks, creating the illusion of short hair. Surely, I'm not the only one who finds this bizarre at best. The newsmen are ok, I guess, but I always thought you had to have at least a modicum of good looks to make it in the television world.

Then, there's the stories. I realize it's hard to find hours of newsworthy stuff a day in just one city, but really...try harder. Inevitably, I get hooked on some stupid headline while watching Oprah. Something like, "Could your milk be killing you as we speak?" How ordinary, everyday milk could be killing me? As we speak?! I'm not even drinking milk! So, despite my better judgment, I leave the news on, because who can take these kinds of risks in today's dangerous world? The news begins. First, some murders. Then local sports. Now, weather. Apparently, this pressing issue can wait until the end of the news hour. Then, finally, YES, the story on the milk. Unquestionably, the story will last approximately 32 seconds. It will be something like, "Recent research says that milk is essential for good bone health. If you don't drink enough milk, you could develop osteoporosis. Osteoporisis is most prevalent in old people, who frequently die. That's the news for tonight, thanks for watching." Duped yet again by the local news.

Lastly, there's the presentation. I recognize that I know nothing of the technical aspects of moving from live news to a pre-recorded news story tape or of connecting to an on-location anchor, but I feel that if we as a civilization have advanced to the point that we are on the cusp of the cure for cancer, we can figure these things out. I don't know that I've ever watched 1 hour of local news without seeing a presentation mistake. Usually, it's in the cut-away to on-location guy. The camera is on him, but he's unaware that his part of the news bit has begun, so he just stares blankly for about 1 full minute in silence. By the time he realizes he's been looking like a jackass, they're cutting back to the in-station anchor and moving on as though it never happened. Which is what I ultimately wish whenever I am stupid enough to watch the local news...that it never happened.

And, while we're on the subject, here's a great one from the You Tube files. Seriously, not much makes me laugh harder than this video. Enjoy.

Sunday, January 20, 2008

Crummy commercials

Have the people that create today's commercials spent even one day in the real world? There's no way...just look at the crap they think happens to actual people:

-Birth control/feminine product commercials-
When I see these, my first thought is, "Wow, this is so off base that only a man could have thought this up." Then I realize that men have 3 main fears in life--(1) Crying females (2) Pregnant females (3) Periods--in that order. So, I can't imagine a man conquering any of these fears by agreeing to work on a Yaz or Tampax commercial. Clearly, then, it's women with no friends that actually make them. Because I can promise you that I have never texted my friend from the beach to extol the virtues of the lighter, shorter period I can achieve with a certain pill. And my friends and I have never had a carefree conversation about cramps and bloating or spoken the phrase, "She's definitely menstrual!" I thought this was a phrase only old women would use...loudly, while in a crowded waiting room at the doctor's office (clearly, I'm alluding to a conversation I was in the middle of at a waiting room in Danville, Kentucky where two old women sitting across the room from one another casually discussed their frequent diarreah). Anyway, periods are not fun events that we girls have frequent gab-fests about. Nor are birth control pills things that we try to convince all our other friends to take. And if my friend in medical school (you know who you are) ever tries to impress us by spouting off the complete list of symptoms that could accompany such pills, well, that friendship has reached its end.

-Chain resturant commercials-
Really, what I'd like to focus on here are Olive Garden and Crapplebees commercials. I can picture the types of people that create these commercials: Crazy, fake-blonde women that are 56 but trying to look 32. They wear their bright pink blush in large, perfect circles on their faces and never stop smiling, even when they're asleep. People never argue with them because they're afraid it will catapult them into a psychotic rage. In essence, people that truly operate outside of reality. Because that's the geographic location of these commercial Olive Gardens and Applebees-outside of reality.
For example, in the bizarro Applebees of one commercial, the late-teen waiters and kitchen staff decide to stay at work past closing to allow a poor high school football team that has just undergone a devastating loss to eat there. I've worked at a resturant, and here's what would happen in reality Applebees: The waiters would have just finished vacumning the floor and putting all the chairs on the tables, and the kitchen staff would have just put away ALL the food and turned off all cooking implements. When the football team got off the bus, the workers inside would probably all yell, "Sorry, fuckers, we're closed," and then purposely ignore the team as they waited at the locked door. Then they would laugh as the team dejectedly walked away. The service industry really just isn't the touching bastion of humanity the people in bizarro Applebees want you to think it is.
Then there's Olive Garden commercials. It's pretty unrealistic that a waitress would ever be as excited and happy about her job as bizarro Olive Garden waitresses are, even if she does rely on tips. What's even less realistic is the visceral joy that the patrons appear to feel upon arriving at bizarro Olive Garden. First of all, Olive Garden is, at best, a good resturant. They have pretty tasty breasticks, but, let's be honest, it's just another chain resturant with reasonable prices and fake-nice decor. Certainly not joy-inducing. Further, from my small experience in the resturant business, I came to realize that out-to-eat families, especially ones with children, are the most joyless people on the face of the earth, second only to the people that work at the DMV. Olive Garden commercials are so ironic that all they really do is make those who exist within reality (most people) more depressed about their very real lives.
Point: Just show us a plate of delicious food with some catchy music, and stop pretending Americans love their lives.

-Lexus commercials-
What I mean are the ones that they play around Christmas. This season, we saw a man calling his wife to tell her he couldn't pick up their beloved child from some yuppy extracurricular activity. In fact, the man is outside the house with said child (who indifferently plays his Nintendo DS because he's so spoiled he can't even appreciate the vast sum of money that was just spent on his mother), waiting by a brand-new Lexus with a giant bow on top! Wife steps out, still miffed at having to pick up spoiled brat, and, gasp, she sees the gift! All is well! Make-out time for mom and dad!
I don't know about you, but here's what would happen in my household: Dad makes the fake call. Mom emits at least 3 explicatives, telling Dad exactly how unhelpful and selfish he truly is. Mom finishes berating and hangs up, still cursing to herself. She steps outside and sees the car (which has no bow on top because who the hell can find a bow that large?). At first, she's confused. Then, it hits her. Dad has spent at least $60,000 on a piece of property that will only depreciate in value. We'll skip past the fight that soon ensues because it's too painful and graphic for most readers. The next day, Dad is served with divorce papers at the hotel he had to spend the previous night in. Let's face it, only celebrities buy each other Lexi (what I consider to be the plural of Lexus) for Christmas. Thus, from an economic standpoint, Lexus is wasting money on this line of advertising, while simultaneously refusing to recognize how actual people live.

Commercial-people (this is their official title, right?) need to accept the inevitable: We are not a generally joyful people. We have never had a "happy period," and we take birth control because babies are terrifying. We eat out at resturants because we have emotional problems that are frequently soothed by eating and because we're too lazy to cook our own dinners. We buy cars that we can't afford because we're too materialistic to just be happy with the relationships we have with our loved ones. So, quit annoying me and get real.

Saturday, January 19, 2008

Walking in the snow

I realize this one is out of human control, but really is it ever possible to look cool while walking in the snow? I don't mean like on a hike with those tennis rackets on your feet or on the "slopes" (though I've never been skiing, I know all about the sweet ski lingo). I mean like walking to the bus or class, especially with a bookbag that throws off your entire center of gravity. It's impossible to look cool because you have to constantly worry about slipping and falling. Thus, you are forced to walk like a tightrope walker, on your tiptoes, with your arms at full sail. This already makes you look like a moron, but just wait until you hit a ice patch or a slush puddle and you slide a bit. Inevitably, your self-concious, panic-striken mind perceives this as imminent doom. Your arms flail wildly and you make some sort of unnatural noise that is usually remeniscent of the opposite of whatever sex you actually are. To top it all off, you have to look around frantically to make sure no one saw your little snow dance, which of course they did. For all of the above reasons, I think falling actually makes you look cooler than you do when walking in the snow. Falling is like accepting you're a loser. Conversely, walking through the snow while trying not to fall and still maintain a modicucm of coolness is like being that kid that talks too much and tells bad jokes and always brags about how much he/she drank last know, a loser in denial.

I think I've made it pretty clear what my main point is: we must ban snow.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Douchy Law Students

You're probably thinking, but Sue Ellen, YOU'RE a law student. Well, if you actually think my name is Sue Ellen, you're definitely not thinking that. Regardless, I am in law school, therefore I have first-hand knowledge of the douchy law student things that go on everyday. I could list nearly 200 things that annoy me about some of my fellow students. But I choose to focus on just one today...perhaps, the worst one: Douchy law student conversations. Even if you're not a law student, you too can have a douchy law student conversation so long as you do the following:

1. Think you're funny. Yes, despite the fact that many are squares that will spare no measure to kiss a professor's ass (a professor who's second and possibly third concurrent career is being a law school professor and who, thus, literally could care less if we (like him!) are Detroit Tigers fans or have a falsely-concocted question designed in vain to get him to remember our face or have an interesting take on something we wish to babble on and on about or would gladly give him a b.j. just for an A...)...shit, where was I? Oh yeah, despite that the fact the they're dorks, they still somehow think they're funny. I actually fulfill this requirement. But I am funny, so f off.

2. Drop your grades/summer job. You can be talking about anything on earth (and please don't get me started on the fact that I've now heard TWO conversations about Nietzsche and Ayn Rand in the law school...please), but somehow you'll find a way to get in that you worked at (insert name of uppity law firm where similar douchy conversations are the norm) last summer and will hopefully be returning this summer if you can maintain the "unreal grades"** you've achieved thus far. The most noxious part about this requirement is that you're freely allowed to just make shit up. So, you're not top 10%? Who the hell cares, tell everyone you are anyway! As long as you maintain confidence, they might believe you.
**Actual quote from actual classmate.

3. Talk about law things like you're the smartest person on earth. This one really gets me. A conversation will go like this:
D-bag 1: Did you hear Britney Spears got arrested? (I made this up, is it true?)
D-bag 2: Yeah, but those charges seem pretty shaky. I mean, I doubt there was any mens rea, and without that the prosecution's gonna have a hell of time.
D-bag 1: True, plus, ya know res ipsa loquitor. It'll be hard to prove, but I think the best bet would be to file an interlocutory appeal and be done with it.
D-bag 2: Bro, you are so right.
People who aren't in law school probably wouldn't know what these people are talking about. Well, neither do they. They use these Latin phrases and legal terms for the same reason the law profession keeps them around-to feel superior to other people. But, newsflash, a-holes WE'RE all in law school! We all learned these terms and phrases in the same miserable classes you did, so you're not impressing anyone when you have these conversations in the student lounge while people are TRYING TO EAT. Number three is the easiest requirement because all you need is a law dictionary and a douchy law student to converse with.

4. Speak as loudly as possible. Pay careful attention, because this is the KEY to the douchy law student conversation. Wherever you are, the library, Wal-Mart, the bus, you MUST make sure that all around you can hear the conversation you're having. This is the best way to let as many people as possible know how funny, smart, desirable and humble you really are. The d-bag you're speaking to might already know that you got a (made up good grade) in (indifferent professor's name)'s class, but the busdriver might not! This is the perfect opportunity to let said busdriver know that you are far better than he will ever be. And remember, you're better than all the other law students too!

Well, there you have it. With just a bit of deception and a hefty dose of arrogance, you can be on your way to having a douchy law student conversation. Don't be surprised if you find the urge to stab yourself, though.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Southern Lady Acronyms/Taglines

G.R.I.T.S. (Girls Raised in the South)
“Carolina Girl, Best in the World”
S.L.U.T.S (Southern Ladies Under Tremendous Stress)

Perhaps you’re not aware of this annoyance. Even if you’re from the South, I’ve found that you encounter these pretty much only in Charleston. While Charleston is, in my humble opinion, the only city worth living in/visiting/driving through in South Carolina, I just don’t think this is the reason for these “creative” little slogans. I think it all comes down to two words: Redneck yuppies. Yes, it sounds like an oxymoron, but Charleston is teeming with them, and they LOVE to put these phrases on bumper stickers, canvas tote bags, and non-hooded sweatshirts. But, really, WHY are they such a Charleston thing? I honestly don’t know, but I would like to dissect my three examples individually to explain why they annoy me so much.

G.R.I.T.S: This is stupid. Do people in Georgia wear these shirts? Maybe they do, but I’ve never encountered a pink t-shirt with a colored pencil rendition of a beach scene and G.R.I.T.S emblazoned on the bottom anywhere but here. The South is large. Grits are a food. This is stupid.

“Carolina Girl, Best in the World”: First of all, “girl” and “world” don’t rhyme. But, slant rhyme is acceptable in most intellectual circles so I won’t argue too much on this point. However, has anyone noticed that this phrase can include ANY other type of girl on the planet? For instance, “South Dakota Girl, Best in the World,” or “Fat Ugly Girl, Best in the World.” See, what makes a place-oriented rhyming slogan workable is that it is somehow unique to the place. The phrase “Getting Lucky in Kentucky,” while lame, is unique because there aren’t many other places you could “get lucky” in that actually rhyme with lucky. What would be far lamer is a bumper sticker that said “Kentucky Girl, Best in the World.” But we Carolina girls (read: Charleston redneck yuppies) are apparently the only ones dumb enough to monopolize this phrase before all the other 5 trillion adjectives and place names could get there.

S.L.U.T.S: I don’t know if I’ve been away too long, or if I just missed it growing up, but I learned this one only recently, after seeing it on a package of cocktail napkins and (of course) a non-hooded sweatshirt at a store in Charleston. I can barely articulate an intelligent reply to this acronym because I find it so absurd. Where will these Southern ladies STOP?? What minute detail of their life with they immortalize in an acronym next? How much more inappropriate will the acronym get? I mean, surely only women over the age of 41 wear these items anymore…but I guess it’s ok for them to have the word SLUTS in giant letters on their ugly sweatshirt because it’s just a cute little acronym that only Southern gals like themselves could understand. When you think about, there are probably a lot of W.H.O.R.E.S (Women Happy Only Reading Eight Sonnets) and F.A.T. A.S.S.E.S (Fun And Talented Actors Sitting Still Eating Sandwiches) out there. And why shouldn’t THEY get an acronym too? Washed-denim, embroidered button-ups for EVERYONE!