So, sunburns suck. I get sunburns every so often (usually at the beginning of Summer), but I have never had one this bad, and it's only on my right arm and shoulder. I can already tell that it's about to peel. Yuck. That's the worst because usually the upside to every sunburn is that it eventually turns into a tan; however, when it peels, you begin to look a little like what Michael Jackson probably looked like before he started bleaching himself (that is what he did, right?).
I'm in Las Vegas right now visiting some of my wonderful family. I am very grateful that they brought me out here. Lord knows that I needed some R&R like nobody's business. My Aunt and Uncle have 3 kids each radically different from each other. The oldest is talkative, the middle one is a little more reserved, and the youngest has a rocket strapped to his back and yells like a Banshee at least 3 times a day. I love them dearly, though. All three.
The youngest, Tryce, really is a riot. He's so stinkin' funny. I have never met a three year old who can speak as clearly as he does and still make sense at the very same time. I've been telling him that he is handsome lately and each time he tells me that big boys are not handsome. I asked him what big boys are if they aren't handsome, and he told me, "They are just big boys!"
So simple. I tried convincing him that handsome is a good thing, that many big boys strive to look handsome, and that he is lucky that it comes so darn easy. But no. He's just a big boy. He finally settled for lookin' good, but even that was a stretch.
I go back home this Wednesday. I'm sad to leave, but I will be happy to get home, too. So, until then my friends! Have a good week!
Monday, April 26, 2010
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Feeling too Much
I have started and deleted a paragraph about nine times in 10 minutes. I am sitting here trying to find the right words to describe how I am feeling. I guess the emotion that stands out the most right now is sadness. I have felt many emotions since my mom passed away last Monday. Just yesterday, I was feeling happy, and then I decided that that emotion was wrong. Sure, that sounds silly, but I only felt that way because I thought that if I felt happy then I wasn't feeling sad for my mom not being here any longer.
Just after those emotions I started feeling anger. Mom would not have wanted me to feel like I can't be happy. She has only ever wanted to see her children smiling, laughing, and enjoying life -- but life is a bastard sometimes. Life can be jerked away from you before you know it and you're left in a daze wondering what in the hell just happened.
What I know is that you have to love the people in your life as much as you possibly can. You have to hug them and tell them how much you appreciate them as often as possible. One of my biggest regrets is not being a touchy-feely-huggy-person because right now all I want to do is hug my mother. I want to hug her sadness, anger, confusion, and pain away like she did for so many people.
Why could she make so many people feel better, but she couldn't find the peace she needed to feel better? Why are there curve balls thrown to people who can't hit them? It just seems so unfair. I know that everything I am feeling right now is normal. I know that these next days, weeks, months, and years are going to be a process. I also know that she didn't leave us to make us feel bad. She left us because she felt bad, and I hate that. I hate that with every fiber of my being.
I have to find strength where she could find none. I have to find true happiness where at times she could feel none. I have to maintain my sense of humor because she loved it. I have to keep writing because that made her proud of me. I just wish that after I posted this I could send her a text message like I always did telling her to read this.
--Brittany
Just after those emotions I started feeling anger. Mom would not have wanted me to feel like I can't be happy. She has only ever wanted to see her children smiling, laughing, and enjoying life -- but life is a bastard sometimes. Life can be jerked away from you before you know it and you're left in a daze wondering what in the hell just happened.
What I know is that you have to love the people in your life as much as you possibly can. You have to hug them and tell them how much you appreciate them as often as possible. One of my biggest regrets is not being a touchy-feely-huggy-person because right now all I want to do is hug my mother. I want to hug her sadness, anger, confusion, and pain away like she did for so many people.
Why could she make so many people feel better, but she couldn't find the peace she needed to feel better? Why are there curve balls thrown to people who can't hit them? It just seems so unfair. I know that everything I am feeling right now is normal. I know that these next days, weeks, months, and years are going to be a process. I also know that she didn't leave us to make us feel bad. She left us because she felt bad, and I hate that. I hate that with every fiber of my being.
I have to find strength where she could find none. I have to find true happiness where at times she could feel none. I have to maintain my sense of humor because she loved it. I have to keep writing because that made her proud of me. I just wish that after I posted this I could send her a text message like I always did telling her to read this.
--Brittany
Friday, February 19, 2010
The Ear Slaughter
What is music?
To me music is inspiring, enlightening, beautiful, and sincere. To me music is insight into another person's imagination. For a few minutes you get to listen to someones heartache, happiness, confusion, etc. I guess what I am trying to say is that music is an outlet for the musicians and the crowd.
This outlet, however, has been abused. Now, this is only my opinion and if you don't like it-- sorry, Kitty Cat.
I recently went and saw some of my friends play at a little venue called Bora Bora. It's a shitty little place that I'm pretty damn sure was a strip club in it's past life. It had mirrors every where and smelled of dingy dollar bills and nasty stripper thongs. Or maybe that was the smell of the horrible music being played inside those four walls.
So, I walk in and the very first thing I see is some guy with with no shirt screaming profanities into a microphone and piercing himself. I am pretty certain that the crap he was piercing himself with was not sterile, and that's dangerous. Not that I give a shit if he has a face infection now because his music was God awful. I'm not naive. I know that there are people who are into that kind of music and that's fine with me. To each his own. But come the fuck on. No one could understand what the hell he was saying. He was halfway prancing around on stage like the Fairy of Screamo and shoving metal through his cheeks and throat between each "song."
I had to drink quite a few Crown and Cokes to get through the horrible line-up of bands that night. My friends should be grateful that I had the patience of a pre-school teacher to stay and wait for them to play. Maybe it was the buzz. Maybe these bands were like a train wreck and I couldn't look away. Whatever. That's neither here nor there.
The only people having a good time were four or five fat emo kids running around in circles acting like they were going to start moshing and an emo princess rocking back and forth like the music was sent directly to her via Satan himself. She had to be a girlfriend and under the influence of some sort of hallucinogens to think that music was worth doing the sway-back-and-forth-in-a-trance-of-the-music dance.
Now, I'm all about friends getting together and playing their instruments and having a good time, but I'm also convinced that you know whether or not you sound worthy enough of a stage and a crowd.
So, children, while you're jammin with your buds and you get that little feeling in your gut that says, "Man, this is so much fun, but I'm really wasted everytime I play so maybe it doesn't sound that great to everyone else," don't book a show. Just don't do it. I don't care how many times your wasty-faced friends tell you that you were, "So fucking AWESOME, Dude!"
Don't freaking do it. I'm serious.
To me music is inspiring, enlightening, beautiful, and sincere. To me music is insight into another person's imagination. For a few minutes you get to listen to someones heartache, happiness, confusion, etc. I guess what I am trying to say is that music is an outlet for the musicians and the crowd.
This outlet, however, has been abused. Now, this is only my opinion and if you don't like it-- sorry, Kitty Cat.
I recently went and saw some of my friends play at a little venue called Bora Bora. It's a shitty little place that I'm pretty damn sure was a strip club in it's past life. It had mirrors every where and smelled of dingy dollar bills and nasty stripper thongs. Or maybe that was the smell of the horrible music being played inside those four walls.
So, I walk in and the very first thing I see is some guy with with no shirt screaming profanities into a microphone and piercing himself. I am pretty certain that the crap he was piercing himself with was not sterile, and that's dangerous. Not that I give a shit if he has a face infection now because his music was God awful. I'm not naive. I know that there are people who are into that kind of music and that's fine with me. To each his own. But come the fuck on. No one could understand what the hell he was saying. He was halfway prancing around on stage like the Fairy of Screamo and shoving metal through his cheeks and throat between each "song."
I had to drink quite a few Crown and Cokes to get through the horrible line-up of bands that night. My friends should be grateful that I had the patience of a pre-school teacher to stay and wait for them to play. Maybe it was the buzz. Maybe these bands were like a train wreck and I couldn't look away. Whatever. That's neither here nor there.
The only people having a good time were four or five fat emo kids running around in circles acting like they were going to start moshing and an emo princess rocking back and forth like the music was sent directly to her via Satan himself. She had to be a girlfriend and under the influence of some sort of hallucinogens to think that music was worth doing the sway-back-and-forth-in-a-trance-of-the-music dance.
Now, I'm all about friends getting together and playing their instruments and having a good time, but I'm also convinced that you know whether or not you sound worthy enough of a stage and a crowd.
So, children, while you're jammin with your buds and you get that little feeling in your gut that says, "Man, this is so much fun, but I'm really wasted everytime I play so maybe it doesn't sound that great to everyone else," don't book a show. Just don't do it. I don't care how many times your wasty-faced friends tell you that you were, "So fucking AWESOME, Dude!"
Don't freaking do it. I'm serious.
Monday, January 18, 2010
So-Co and Lime
"The HiLo is the only bar I have had the.... uh.... pleasure of seeing a naked man drinking at the bar next to a drag queen, a black cowboy, and a 40 year old woman with a mo-hawk." -- an acquaintance from the HiLo
I met Mom and Tona for a drink the other night. It isn't something that happens often, but I would like for it to happen again soon. Hanging out with Mom when she's had a couple drinks is a real ego-booster. While introducing me to people as her daughter, of course, she let each person know how hilarious I am. I don't think these people were too concerned with my personality as I was in a dress from Express that was...well...fitted. The short black dress was embellished with sparkles, as I was in a sparkle kind of mood that night. I haven't been out much lately, OK? It was an occasion of sorts.
The HiLo really is a special little place. You truly never know who you are going to run into. The bar is in OKC on Classen near Edna's, Drunken Fry, and the Speakeasy. It's a dark little hole in the wall that tends to get really packed on the weekends. If you haven't met the people who frequent there at least 20 or so times, they will not remember your name. I'm sure it has something to do with the insane amounts of alcohol consumed there, but I get to feel like the belle of the ball each and every time I step foot in the bar -- at least until they start to remember who I am and then I'm sure I will be known as "That smart mouthed girl that claims Tona is her Aunt".
It's easy to name drop Tona's name in the HiLo because sometimes she cocktails on Friday nights. It cuts out a lot of the get-to-know-you process that frankly sometimes bores the hell out of me. I can cut right into the part where I'm awesome. Using Tona as a name-drop is like an insta-friend button. I love it. One day, you will all be able to say my name and everyone will be like, "YEAH. She's so great. You must be great, too!" and you'll be like, "Yeah! You are totally right!"
And then you'll go out into the parking lot at closing time and puke because shots fly around that bar like its December 21,2012 already.
A few pointers in going to the HiLo:
1. Expect the unexpected.
2. Someone will probably cry on your shoulder.
3. Someone will end up buying you a shot. It will be strong.
4. People will strike up random conversations with you in line to get a drink.
5. On Friday nights the drag queens with call you out.
6. Expect homosexuals. They are there. They are sweet hearts.
7. Put your dance pants on. It can get crazy.
8. Expect to hear the word, "Titties," yelled out in unison at random times.
9. Bring taxi money.
10. Don't get offended by anyone. Everyone is wasted.
I met Mom and Tona for a drink the other night. It isn't something that happens often, but I would like for it to happen again soon. Hanging out with Mom when she's had a couple drinks is a real ego-booster. While introducing me to people as her daughter, of course, she let each person know how hilarious I am. I don't think these people were too concerned with my personality as I was in a dress from Express that was...well...fitted. The short black dress was embellished with sparkles, as I was in a sparkle kind of mood that night. I haven't been out much lately, OK? It was an occasion of sorts.
The HiLo really is a special little place. You truly never know who you are going to run into. The bar is in OKC on Classen near Edna's, Drunken Fry, and the Speakeasy. It's a dark little hole in the wall that tends to get really packed on the weekends. If you haven't met the people who frequent there at least 20 or so times, they will not remember your name. I'm sure it has something to do with the insane amounts of alcohol consumed there, but I get to feel like the belle of the ball each and every time I step foot in the bar -- at least until they start to remember who I am and then I'm sure I will be known as "That smart mouthed girl that claims Tona is her Aunt".
It's easy to name drop Tona's name in the HiLo because sometimes she cocktails on Friday nights. It cuts out a lot of the get-to-know-you process that frankly sometimes bores the hell out of me. I can cut right into the part where I'm awesome. Using Tona as a name-drop is like an insta-friend button. I love it. One day, you will all be able to say my name and everyone will be like, "YEAH. She's so great. You must be great, too!" and you'll be like, "Yeah! You are totally right!"
And then you'll go out into the parking lot at closing time and puke because shots fly around that bar like its December 21,2012 already.
A few pointers in going to the HiLo:
1. Expect the unexpected.
2. Someone will probably cry on your shoulder.
3. Someone will end up buying you a shot. It will be strong.
4. People will strike up random conversations with you in line to get a drink.
5. On Friday nights the drag queens with call you out.
6. Expect homosexuals. They are there. They are sweet hearts.
7. Put your dance pants on. It can get crazy.
8. Expect to hear the word, "Titties," yelled out in unison at random times.
9. Bring taxi money.
10. Don't get offended by anyone. Everyone is wasted.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Old conversations between Jameson and Me
These are HILARIOUS!
They took place in 2008. Our sense of humor may not be for everyone, but we think we're funny.
jameson: well im dry heaving now
awesome
me: dang
no bueno
guess you wouldnt want to think about drinking spit...
jameson: jesus fuck
knock it off
me: sorry
im done
jameson: no you're not.
me: i swear
....
me: im just going to go home and go to sleep so i dont have to worry about getting sad or mad
i can just dream about living on a island with people who dont suck and a lot of tequila
jameson: this island would be me, you, and a bottle of tequila.
me: bottle(s)
jameson: im just assuming its a gigantic bottle
me: oh
any limes?
jameson: lime trees
.....
me: we should co-write a book
jameson: a self help book for the rest of the population
me: yes
jameson: "step one- kill yourself"
me: i was thinking we could give them some false hope first
jameson: chapter one - read chapter two, chapter two - kill yourself
better?
me: yes
jameson: ok
me: not a very long book
we're aalready done
jameson: thats right
me: is it possible that my bosses could be reading what im typing from another computer?
cause if they can... im so getting fired
jameson: yea, but i doubt that they would have that kind of capability
you need special programs and shit
me: SCIENCE museum
jameson: i think you're ok
me: thats good
CAUSE I LOVE THIS JOB
jameson: is that sarcasm
me: no, it was just in case
....
me: for the love of ME.
and you.
jameson: thanks for including me
me: you're God part 2
jameson: bullshit, that's a demotion
there is no parts
me: shit
then we need some guidelines
jameson: like what
me: the 10 commandments
jameson: new ones?
me: yes
'cept it'll probably be the 100 commandments
jameson: yea
or just "dont do anything irritating"
me: thats not broad enough
jameson: "dont do anything"
me: impossible
you suck at being God
....
me: when do you have class?
jameson: 1240
i gotta go in like 5
me: ahh
i dont know if i will be back on today, our movies are fuckin up
i might be going home early
jameson: then i have a midterm in "myth and fairytale"
joke.
me: cute
jameson: oh well, thats a positive
me: dont forget to wear your wings
jameson: i wont
me: and your sparkles on your eyes
jameson: and my blue eyeshadow
me: and dont forget to sprinkle the ground you walk with love, wishes, and hope.
jameson: yea, thats right, i love that shit
me: was that sarcasm?
jameson: yea
They took place in 2008. Our sense of humor may not be for everyone, but we think we're funny.
jameson: well im dry heaving now
awesome
me: dang
no bueno
guess you wouldnt want to think about drinking spit...
jameson: jesus fuck
knock it off
me: sorry
im done
jameson: no you're not.
me: i swear
....
me: im just going to go home and go to sleep so i dont have to worry about getting sad or mad
i can just dream about living on a island with people who dont suck and a lot of tequila
jameson: this island would be me, you, and a bottle of tequila.
me: bottle(s)
jameson: im just assuming its a gigantic bottle
me: oh
any limes?
jameson: lime trees
.....
me: we should co-write a book
jameson: a self help book for the rest of the population
me: yes
jameson: "step one- kill yourself"
me: i was thinking we could give them some false hope first
jameson: chapter one - read chapter two, chapter two - kill yourself
better?
me: yes
jameson: ok
me: not a very long book
we're aalready done
jameson: thats right
me: is it possible that my bosses could be reading what im typing from another computer?
cause if they can... im so getting fired
jameson: yea, but i doubt that they would have that kind of capability
you need special programs and shit
me: SCIENCE museum
jameson: i think you're ok
me: thats good
CAUSE I LOVE THIS JOB
jameson: is that sarcasm
me: no, it was just in case
....
me: for the love of ME.
and you.
jameson: thanks for including me
me: you're God part 2
jameson: bullshit, that's a demotion
there is no parts
me: shit
then we need some guidelines
jameson: like what
me: the 10 commandments
jameson: new ones?
me: yes
'cept it'll probably be the 100 commandments
jameson: yea
or just "dont do anything irritating"
me: thats not broad enough
jameson: "dont do anything"
me: impossible
you suck at being God
....
me: when do you have class?
jameson: 1240
i gotta go in like 5
me: ahh
i dont know if i will be back on today, our movies are fuckin up
i might be going home early
jameson: then i have a midterm in "myth and fairytale"
joke.
me: cute
jameson: oh well, thats a positive
me: dont forget to wear your wings
jameson: i wont
me: and your sparkles on your eyes
jameson: and my blue eyeshadow
me: and dont forget to sprinkle the ground you walk with love, wishes, and hope.
jameson: yea, thats right, i love that shit
me: was that sarcasm?
jameson: yea
Gene Kelly and Me
I have been sinking into the world of Classic Movies. I think I have an addiction. You might say I need a life-- I say I was born in the wrong time period. I should have been in movies singing and tap dancing across the big screen. I would have been sensational and Gene Kelly would have been my lover. I'm a hell of a lot prettier than Betsy Blair, Jeanne Coyne, and Patricia Ward. He would have been 'Singin' in the Rain' because of me. Spinning around on light posts because of me. Sigh. The 2000's are boring.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
I, too, still exist...
What have I been up too? I know my avid readers (Mom, Jameson, Tona) are curious.
I've been working and laying pretty low. I've been going through some transitions as well. The main transition, I guess, is finding new friends and releasing the old ones back into the wild from which they seemingly came.
My former friends became less of a joy to be around and more of a chore. One in particular started to feel like a full on committed relationship, and let us not kid ourselves, right? Once I start feeling like it's a chore to be around someone I just just juke them and run in the other direction (much like a certain person's certain drunken night in OKC).
Mom keeps reassuring me that I will find the perfect friend one day. I guess she would know. She is rather blessed with some of the most fantastic friends one could have. Her friends are good at listening and sharing advice if need be. My friends bombarded me with all of their worldly problems and wondered why I never shared mine. Is it so hard to wonder when listener can't get a word in edge-wise? Ha. Rocket science.
Work has been very good to me. This holiday season was very profitable. Though, I think it's time to start looking for a 9-5 and keep the service industry at bay until the weekends. It is a perfect job for me since I get to be as social as we all know I am, it isn't boring as we all know I hate, and its decent money which we all know I need, but it isn't a life time career.
I would love to open my own bar, but with out a shit-load of money and a concept not fully together it would seem rather impossible to accomplish that feat at this time. One day. Hmm.
I would also like to take this time to congratulate our dear Jameson on his engagement. After all these years of making fun of our significant others, he's going to be stuck with one for the rest of his life and not have the pleasure of blogging about it. It will be unfortunate to not read these fantastic stories anymore, but sigh, we must all grow up eventually and make that giant leap into looking into one person's eyes for the rest of our lives-- or some years. Or something.
At least his Mother will no longer be able to question his sexuality. There is an upside to everything.
Random thought: Remember the time she thought he was in the drug business because a large amount of money disappeared from his bank account and he didn't even tell her it was because he took a trip to Oklahoma randomly? Ha. Oh to be 20 again.
I will try to update more often, but I am going to use my usual excuse, I'm not very interesting any longer. I will try very hard to make someone cry or something. Until next time, Folks!
--Brittany Jonn.
I've been working and laying pretty low. I've been going through some transitions as well. The main transition, I guess, is finding new friends and releasing the old ones back into the wild from which they seemingly came.
My former friends became less of a joy to be around and more of a chore. One in particular started to feel like a full on committed relationship, and let us not kid ourselves, right? Once I start feeling like it's a chore to be around someone I just just juke them and run in the other direction (much like a certain person's certain drunken night in OKC).
Mom keeps reassuring me that I will find the perfect friend one day. I guess she would know. She is rather blessed with some of the most fantastic friends one could have. Her friends are good at listening and sharing advice if need be. My friends bombarded me with all of their worldly problems and wondered why I never shared mine. Is it so hard to wonder when listener can't get a word in edge-wise? Ha. Rocket science.
Work has been very good to me. This holiday season was very profitable. Though, I think it's time to start looking for a 9-5 and keep the service industry at bay until the weekends. It is a perfect job for me since I get to be as social as we all know I am, it isn't boring as we all know I hate, and its decent money which we all know I need, but it isn't a life time career.
I would love to open my own bar, but with out a shit-load of money and a concept not fully together it would seem rather impossible to accomplish that feat at this time. One day. Hmm.
I would also like to take this time to congratulate our dear Jameson on his engagement. After all these years of making fun of our significant others, he's going to be stuck with one for the rest of his life and not have the pleasure of blogging about it. It will be unfortunate to not read these fantastic stories anymore, but sigh, we must all grow up eventually and make that giant leap into looking into one person's eyes for the rest of our lives-- or some years. Or something.
At least his Mother will no longer be able to question his sexuality. There is an upside to everything.
Random thought: Remember the time she thought he was in the drug business because a large amount of money disappeared from his bank account and he didn't even tell her it was because he took a trip to Oklahoma randomly? Ha. Oh to be 20 again.
I will try to update more often, but I am going to use my usual excuse, I'm not very interesting any longer. I will try very hard to make someone cry or something. Until next time, Folks!
--Brittany Jonn.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
I still exist.
I would just like to remind our dear reader(s) that I in fact do still exist and am still wandering around the United States, I'm busy as hell, and without the extra time to write, but I'll try to soon.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
What. In. The. Hell.
Ever had a day that was starting off so great that you said to yourself, "There is no way that this day could go bad"?
And then it did?
Just like walking into a sliding glass door when you're a little tipsy it hits you right in the face. "What in the hell," you ask yourself, "how did this even happen?"
Today was one of those days for me. A conversation with my mom went to shit in like 5 minutes. I'm not exaggerating, either. It went from constructive to, "I can't believe you just said that to me!"
Apparently, being honest with your mother is not the way to go. What the hell are you supposed to do when you want your mother to know that you think she is going about something the wrong way? You just want her to be healthy and happy. What is so wrong with that? I guess I just should have kept my mouth shut, but when have I ever done that? Wait. NEVER.
It's no secret that the past few weeks...months...(oh what the hell) years of my life have been nothing short of chaotic. Sure, things level out every once in a while, but you always know a shit-storm is in the forecast for sometime in the near future. It's never partly cloudy with a chance of drama. No. It's always take cover, Mother Fucker, Hurricane Don't-Give-A-Shit-If-You-Were-Having-A-Good-Day-Or-Not is about to hit. Higher ground? Not a chance. You just have to keep your head above water til the high winds slow down at least enough for you to grab onto something floating by--like a Newcastle, a glass of Crown and Coke (easy on the coke, please), or a nice pack of Camel Filters. Then, momentarily, life is okay again.
Recently my parents decided to get a divorce. Luckily, I'm nearing 24 so I didn't have to feel that whole, "It's my fault," stuff. I knew it was neither my fault, nor my brother or sister's fault. It's life's fault. Even a seemingly happy marriage of 24 years can lose it's sparkle. It's sad, right? Yea. It's also sad that divorce has to be so nasty, so noisy, and sometimes so scary. It's even more sad to feel caught in the middle not knowing which way to go.
Every day is a new day of walking around on eggshells for me it seems. I guess I'm just thankful that to spite all of the shit-storms I still have two great parents who I love with my whole heart. And even though it's stressful and hard to deal with sometimes I know that they both love me, too.
And then it did?
Just like walking into a sliding glass door when you're a little tipsy it hits you right in the face. "What in the hell," you ask yourself, "how did this even happen?"
Today was one of those days for me. A conversation with my mom went to shit in like 5 minutes. I'm not exaggerating, either. It went from constructive to, "I can't believe you just said that to me!"
Apparently, being honest with your mother is not the way to go. What the hell are you supposed to do when you want your mother to know that you think she is going about something the wrong way? You just want her to be healthy and happy. What is so wrong with that? I guess I just should have kept my mouth shut, but when have I ever done that? Wait. NEVER.
It's no secret that the past few weeks...months...(oh what the hell) years of my life have been nothing short of chaotic. Sure, things level out every once in a while, but you always know a shit-storm is in the forecast for sometime in the near future. It's never partly cloudy with a chance of drama. No. It's always take cover, Mother Fucker, Hurricane Don't-Give-A-Shit-If-You-Were-Having-A-Good-Day-Or-Not is about to hit. Higher ground? Not a chance. You just have to keep your head above water til the high winds slow down at least enough for you to grab onto something floating by--like a Newcastle, a glass of Crown and Coke (easy on the coke, please), or a nice pack of Camel Filters. Then, momentarily, life is okay again.
Recently my parents decided to get a divorce. Luckily, I'm nearing 24 so I didn't have to feel that whole, "It's my fault," stuff. I knew it was neither my fault, nor my brother or sister's fault. It's life's fault. Even a seemingly happy marriage of 24 years can lose it's sparkle. It's sad, right? Yea. It's also sad that divorce has to be so nasty, so noisy, and sometimes so scary. It's even more sad to feel caught in the middle not knowing which way to go.
Every day is a new day of walking around on eggshells for me it seems. I guess I'm just thankful that to spite all of the shit-storms I still have two great parents who I love with my whole heart. And even though it's stressful and hard to deal with sometimes I know that they both love me, too.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Ain't no rest for the Wicked
This may come as a surprise to you just like it did me. Apparently, uh, I'm an ass-hole.
My friend recently told me that he thinks I am unaware of how rude I sound sometimes. He thinks I don't think before I speak. Well, you know what I think? HE'S A DUMB-ASS! And yes, I completely thought that statement through before I typed it.
The thing is, is that my brain is really great at coming up with amazingly douchy things to say, and since I don't like wasting perfectly good thoughts-- I say them. Truthfully, I would not even make the douchy remarks if my ears were not offended by other people's constant stupidity. If you tell me that you never leave your home without at least $1,000 worth of clothes on, I'm probably going to be an ass-hole. If you tell me, with your most serious face on, that you would probably be nicer to me if I weren't so hot, I am probably going to ruin your world with my words. It's what I do. It's who I am.
Your stupidity warrants my being an ass-hole. Remember that always.
My friend recently told me that he thinks I am unaware of how rude I sound sometimes. He thinks I don't think before I speak. Well, you know what I think? HE'S A DUMB-ASS! And yes, I completely thought that statement through before I typed it.
The thing is, is that my brain is really great at coming up with amazingly douchy things to say, and since I don't like wasting perfectly good thoughts-- I say them. Truthfully, I would not even make the douchy remarks if my ears were not offended by other people's constant stupidity. If you tell me that you never leave your home without at least $1,000 worth of clothes on, I'm probably going to be an ass-hole. If you tell me, with your most serious face on, that you would probably be nicer to me if I weren't so hot, I am probably going to ruin your world with my words. It's what I do. It's who I am.
Your stupidity warrants my being an ass-hole. Remember that always.
Friday, March 6, 2009
I'm currently pondering a thought that may be a bit too deep for my usual trains of thought.
Looking around pictures of people on facebook, most of whom I used to at the least see around occasionally in high school, to the people who I had various in depth conversations, good and or bad times, life changing moments, and relationships to varying degrees, I had an odd realization come over me.
I don't seem to actually know any of these people. The pictures that I see and the names I glance over don't seem to actually register with the fact that these were people that I shared real-life experiences with. It seems hard to reconcile whatever they're doing now, or even the pictures of "way back when" with any actual concrete event. I mean, I remember these times, and I know they were there along with me - but there's some sort of hard to describe disconnect that's slightly disturbing. This is especially true with those who I spent a significant amount of time with and consider better friends.
I wonder if this is just something I experience, or if it's not that unusual. The person who I saw at a party one time sophomore year seems about as equal as the people I spent four years in high school with, at least in the way I view the slideshow of my memory.
It's vaguely like almost everyone I know or knew is as strange to me as the person I randomly pass on the street and think I may have seen before.
Disconcerting, to say the least.
-Jameson
Looking around pictures of people on facebook, most of whom I used to at the least see around occasionally in high school, to the people who I had various in depth conversations, good and or bad times, life changing moments, and relationships to varying degrees, I had an odd realization come over me.
I don't seem to actually know any of these people. The pictures that I see and the names I glance over don't seem to actually register with the fact that these were people that I shared real-life experiences with. It seems hard to reconcile whatever they're doing now, or even the pictures of "way back when" with any actual concrete event. I mean, I remember these times, and I know they were there along with me - but there's some sort of hard to describe disconnect that's slightly disturbing. This is especially true with those who I spent a significant amount of time with and consider better friends.
I wonder if this is just something I experience, or if it's not that unusual. The person who I saw at a party one time sophomore year seems about as equal as the people I spent four years in high school with, at least in the way I view the slideshow of my memory.
It's vaguely like almost everyone I know or knew is as strange to me as the person I randomly pass on the street and think I may have seen before.
Disconcerting, to say the least.
-Jameson
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
I believe I can see the future
Cause I repeat the same routine
I think I used to have a purpose
Then again, that might have been a dream
I think I used to have a voice
And now I never make a sound
I just do what I've been told
I really don't want them to come around, oh no
Every day is exactly the same
Every day is exactly the same
There is no love here, and there is no pain
Every day is exactly the same
I can feel their eyes are watching
In case I lose myself again
Sometimes I think I'm happy here
Sometimes, yeah, I still pretend
I can't remember how this got started
Oh, but I can tell you exactly how it will end
Every day is exactly the same
Every day is exactly the same
There is no love here, and there is no pain
Every day is exactly the same
I'm writing on a little piece of paper
I'm hoping someday you will find
Well, I'll hide it behind something
They won't look behind
I am still inside here
A little bit comes bleeding through
I wish this could have any other way
Oh, but I just don't know, I don't know what else I can do
Every day is exactly the same
Every day is exactly the same
There is no love here, and there is no pain
Every day is exactly the same
Every day is exactly the same (every day)
Every day is exactly the same (there is no pain)
There is no love here, and there is no pain (every day)
Every day is exactly the same (every day is the same)
Video
Cause I repeat the same routine
I think I used to have a purpose
Then again, that might have been a dream
I think I used to have a voice
And now I never make a sound
I just do what I've been told
I really don't want them to come around, oh no
Every day is exactly the same
Every day is exactly the same
There is no love here, and there is no pain
Every day is exactly the same
I can feel their eyes are watching
In case I lose myself again
Sometimes I think I'm happy here
Sometimes, yeah, I still pretend
I can't remember how this got started
Oh, but I can tell you exactly how it will end
Every day is exactly the same
Every day is exactly the same
There is no love here, and there is no pain
Every day is exactly the same
I'm writing on a little piece of paper
I'm hoping someday you will find
Well, I'll hide it behind something
They won't look behind
I am still inside here
A little bit comes bleeding through
I wish this could have any other way
Oh, but I just don't know, I don't know what else I can do
Every day is exactly the same
Every day is exactly the same
There is no love here, and there is no pain
Every day is exactly the same
Every day is exactly the same (every day)
Every day is exactly the same (there is no pain)
There is no love here, and there is no pain (every day)
Every day is exactly the same (every day is the same)
Video
Friday, February 6, 2009
Use Somebody - KoL
Considering the fact that I'm clearly underrepresented on this site of which half is to be mine, I figured I should come back and spew some words.
Update. I no longer get the privilege of sitting around college campuses midwest-wide to get smashed and go on adventures. A while ago I dropped of the face of my social radar and procured a job. I'm still in the process of deciding if this was a good idea or not.
I no longer live in the midwest, a goal I'd hoped to achieve for a while. I am in a place that's nice all the time, but I happen to be mostly surrounded by people with even less social aptitude than I in a community that old people go to before they die. With only three decent bars to go to, my ideas for fun are rapidly declining. Never did I think I would miss the midwest as much as I currently do- apparently a haven for drunken bitterness is created when winter blasts the shit out of your bones for a while and leaves nothing but a craving for beer and scotch.
I haven't really had any life changing events occur unlike my compatriot. I do think that I'm slowly losing the ability to feel strongly about anything in particular though, a thought that might concern me if again, I really cared about it. One of the problems of becoming a too big of a picture person.
"I have all the characteristics of a human being: flesh, blood, skin, hair; but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust."
Not quite that extreme, but I use any opportunity to quote that movie.
Well fuck, let's get out of my boring updates and melancholy observations eh?
-Jameson
Update. I no longer get the privilege of sitting around college campuses midwest-wide to get smashed and go on adventures. A while ago I dropped of the face of my social radar and procured a job. I'm still in the process of deciding if this was a good idea or not.
I no longer live in the midwest, a goal I'd hoped to achieve for a while. I am in a place that's nice all the time, but I happen to be mostly surrounded by people with even less social aptitude than I in a community that old people go to before they die. With only three decent bars to go to, my ideas for fun are rapidly declining. Never did I think I would miss the midwest as much as I currently do- apparently a haven for drunken bitterness is created when winter blasts the shit out of your bones for a while and leaves nothing but a craving for beer and scotch.
I haven't really had any life changing events occur unlike my compatriot. I do think that I'm slowly losing the ability to feel strongly about anything in particular though, a thought that might concern me if again, I really cared about it. One of the problems of becoming a too big of a picture person.
"I have all the characteristics of a human being: flesh, blood, skin, hair; but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust."
Not quite that extreme, but I use any opportunity to quote that movie.
Well fuck, let's get out of my boring updates and melancholy observations eh?
-Jameson
difficulty, destruction, and other precious moments...
Let me begin this by saying FUCK.
Ah, that's better.
Life. What a stupid word. I mean, I'm glad that I have one (of sorts). And no, I don't want to end mine, but seriously. It's a stupid fucking broad ass word, and right now I hate it.
Life is like a ridiculously hard math equation (and let's be honest here-- math is not my strong point) with squared numbers and pie. I thought I had the problem half way worked out, but when numbers just randomly disappear from the equation you have to completely reconstruct the entire thing and start over. And dammit, I can't find my fucking calculator.
I'm confusing myself. I'll start over.
I had a boyfriend. He's gone now. He was about as yummy as Someone Else's half eaten taco, but I still kind of like loved him and shit. Gay, I know. I just thought that he was the one for me, you know? The stupid dating games had ended, and I was finally going to have my dumb-ass happily ever after. I was ready for that. Now, he's probably off nursing a bottle jagermeister, smoking a joint, and crying cause he lost the hottest girl he will ever get. I'm just now starting to realize that hot and ugly do not go together. Hot and hot go together. I very well could have had ugly kids, you guys. So, I guess it's OK that he went away. I have to preserve my hot genes for someone with equal or better hot genes. No more Skinny genes, though. I am so over those.
Lately it just seems like I wander through one shit-storm after another. I keep putting my happiness aside for this or that, and dammit I'm done. I'm 23 and still feel 12. I feel a lack of control over my own life. I feel like I can't be happy until everyone else around me is giving me a standing ovation and saying, "God Job, Brit. Now we are proud of you!"
Have you ever forgotten that you are the ultimate decision maker in your own life? I feel like I have given a piece of control to everyone in my life, and I have left myself with zero. So, sorry guys, but I am going to be an Indian-Giver and take it all back. I think I will be a lot happier if I don't feel like I have a OU Football Stadium worth of people watching me to see if I am going to GO! ALL! THE! WAY! or not. I hate feeling like I am letting people down. It's like the worst feeling ever (next to getting flicked in the balls, probably).
So that was difficulty and destruction. Here are some other precious moments:
1. I went on a "date" and had to leave the bar we were hanging out in so he could take a poop in the privacy of his own home. I was confused as hell because who doesn't get all the poop out before the date? If I was a privacy-only-pooper I would probably try to save myself from the humiliation of having to leave the public place with my date to take a deuce. That's just me. Unless that was his way of insuring that he would never have to see me again. If that was the case then kudos, Man. Mad props for going to that embarrassing level.
2. I had a social gathering in the comfort of my own bedroom. I didn't know it was going to come to that, but it was pretty entertaining. I actually watched 3 semi-hot guys lose all attractiveness by drinking a bag of wine (formerly a box) like it was gold, chocolate, and a boob all at once. It was that intense. I eventually had to ask for I.D.s because they were acting like it was some sweet nectar of the Gods that had never before been graced upon their tongue. It was called Delicious Red but ,JESUS, it wasn't that great.
Well, I guess this is going to have to wrap it up for this time. I will add more later.
Peace.
Ah, that's better.
Life. What a stupid word. I mean, I'm glad that I have one (of sorts). And no, I don't want to end mine, but seriously. It's a stupid fucking broad ass word, and right now I hate it.
Life is like a ridiculously hard math equation (and let's be honest here-- math is not my strong point) with squared numbers and pie. I thought I had the problem half way worked out, but when numbers just randomly disappear from the equation you have to completely reconstruct the entire thing and start over. And dammit, I can't find my fucking calculator.
I'm confusing myself. I'll start over.
I had a boyfriend. He's gone now. He was about as yummy as Someone Else's half eaten taco, but I still kind of like loved him and shit. Gay, I know. I just thought that he was the one for me, you know? The stupid dating games had ended, and I was finally going to have my dumb-ass happily ever after. I was ready for that. Now, he's probably off nursing a bottle jagermeister, smoking a joint, and crying cause he lost the hottest girl he will ever get. I'm just now starting to realize that hot and ugly do not go together. Hot and hot go together. I very well could have had ugly kids, you guys. So, I guess it's OK that he went away. I have to preserve my hot genes for someone with equal or better hot genes. No more Skinny genes, though. I am so over those.
Lately it just seems like I wander through one shit-storm after another. I keep putting my happiness aside for this or that, and dammit I'm done. I'm 23 and still feel 12. I feel a lack of control over my own life. I feel like I can't be happy until everyone else around me is giving me a standing ovation and saying, "God Job, Brit. Now we are proud of you!"
Have you ever forgotten that you are the ultimate decision maker in your own life? I feel like I have given a piece of control to everyone in my life, and I have left myself with zero. So, sorry guys, but I am going to be an Indian-Giver and take it all back. I think I will be a lot happier if I don't feel like I have a OU Football Stadium worth of people watching me to see if I am going to GO! ALL! THE! WAY! or not. I hate feeling like I am letting people down. It's like the worst feeling ever (next to getting flicked in the balls, probably).
So that was difficulty and destruction. Here are some other precious moments:
1. I went on a "date" and had to leave the bar we were hanging out in so he could take a poop in the privacy of his own home. I was confused as hell because who doesn't get all the poop out before the date? If I was a privacy-only-pooper I would probably try to save myself from the humiliation of having to leave the public place with my date to take a deuce. That's just me. Unless that was his way of insuring that he would never have to see me again. If that was the case then kudos, Man. Mad props for going to that embarrassing level.
2. I had a social gathering in the comfort of my own bedroom. I didn't know it was going to come to that, but it was pretty entertaining. I actually watched 3 semi-hot guys lose all attractiveness by drinking a bag of wine (formerly a box) like it was gold, chocolate, and a boob all at once. It was that intense. I eventually had to ask for I.D.s because they were acting like it was some sweet nectar of the Gods that had never before been graced upon their tongue. It was called Delicious Red but ,JESUS, it wasn't that great.
Well, I guess this is going to have to wrap it up for this time. I will add more later.
Peace.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Here are some things that I didn't enjoy today:
1. The rain. It's been raining a lot lately. The rain puts a damper on my day(yes, pun intended). The thing I don't like about rain is that it makes me sleepy and less productive than usual. I spent a large portion of my day watching the Discovery Channel. Don't get me wrong--I like the Discovery Channel, but I can only watch so much of the Deadliest Catch. What a scary job those crab fisherman(is it really fishing, or is it crabbing?) have. I, for one, hate the cold. Oh, and crabs are only great when they're dead. When they're alive they are scary as hell.
2. My hair falling out. I mean, I don't know if it's really falling out, or if it's just getting so long that it seems like more is coming out. I just know that it is really freaking me out. My dad told me that I should get some Rogain for women. I don't know if that was a joke or not. You can't really tell when he's joking. When I was little, I really believed that his "favorite kids" lived in the attic. My little sister also believed him when he told her that he wasn't her dad, but "the other man" was. That didn't go over so well when my little sister told our Grandmother that. Oh, Dad, you really should learn to use facial expressions when you're joking.
3. Britney Spears. I know this one is totally random, but I watched the VMAs today. She won like three awards that she didn't even deserve. Each time she accepted her award she thanked God, her beautiful family(that apparently inspire her everyday--yea, to drink!), and the people. That's nice, right? No. She talked much like a robot, and she had a blank look on her face the entire time. Now that I think about it she was probably on medication 'cause she's friggin' crazier than a loon. Even then couldn't she have at least pretended like she was happy? Maybe she is just a robot. Maybe science has created human-like robots, but they haven't mastered facial expression yet. Maybe in addition to thanking God, her beautiful family, and the people, she should have thanked science and her Dr. as well. Maybe I just made a discovery that I shouldn't have and the C.I.A. is going to come zap my memory of the VMAs away like in Men In Black. SWEET!!
2. My hair falling out. I mean, I don't know if it's really falling out, or if it's just getting so long that it seems like more is coming out. I just know that it is really freaking me out. My dad told me that I should get some Rogain for women. I don't know if that was a joke or not. You can't really tell when he's joking. When I was little, I really believed that his "favorite kids" lived in the attic. My little sister also believed him when he told her that he wasn't her dad, but "the other man" was. That didn't go over so well when my little sister told our Grandmother that. Oh, Dad, you really should learn to use facial expressions when you're joking.
3. Britney Spears. I know this one is totally random, but I watched the VMAs today. She won like three awards that she didn't even deserve. Each time she accepted her award she thanked God, her beautiful family(that apparently inspire her everyday--yea, to drink!), and the people. That's nice, right? No. She talked much like a robot, and she had a blank look on her face the entire time. Now that I think about it she was probably on medication 'cause she's friggin' crazier than a loon. Even then couldn't she have at least pretended like she was happy? Maybe she is just a robot. Maybe science has created human-like robots, but they haven't mastered facial expression yet. Maybe in addition to thanking God, her beautiful family, and the people, she should have thanked science and her Dr. as well. Maybe I just made a discovery that I shouldn't have and the C.I.A. is going to come zap my memory of the VMAs away like in Men In Black. SWEET!!
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Relationships have never been my forte. The one thing that I am confident about when it comes to relationships is ending them. All of the in between hullabaloo is completely confusing and very annoying. For instance, I am not used to having to be considerate of the opposite sex’s feelings. I’m also not used to being told I’m wrong. These are two things that are taking a very long time to get used to.
I have been in a relationship for –oh- about a year and three months. Please don’t hold me to that. I’m not all about the, “Hey baby, how are we going to celebrate our 2 month anniversary?” bull. I can not honestly tell you when we started dating. I just know that it was roughly a year and three months ago or thereabouts. What ever. Anyhow, we’ve been together for however long and things are just now starting to get a little rocky.
I’m going to be completely honest and say that some of it is my fault; however, I don’t like hearing that. When I am told it’s my fault, it hurts my feelings and makes me throw things (inanimate objects—nothing important). It’s childish, and I realize this, but I like the chance to decide whether it’s my fault or not. Don’t judge me. I will also say that I can be a little demanding at times. I think we are all guilty of that. Probably not as much as me but still—GUILTY! Do I want to be told that? No. I would have realized it eventually. Maybe.
My boyfriend doesn’t like it when I tell him that I don’t like what he is wearing. Now, I’m sure that most men would agree with him on that one, but I’m sorry that I want him to take pride in how he looks. And those jeans were horrendous. I don’t think I’m demanding just because I told him to change them. I’m also not demanding just because I told him to blow dry his hair a little, or because I told him to put some wax in it. It’s not like I want him to change his whole style, just his hair and his jeans. Is that too much to ask?
At any rate, I guess the point of this is that relationships are even harder when you actually love the person. I mean, if I was still a serial dater…well we all know what would have happened the first time I didn’t like his jeans.
I have been in a relationship for –oh- about a year and three months. Please don’t hold me to that. I’m not all about the, “Hey baby, how are we going to celebrate our 2 month anniversary?” bull. I can not honestly tell you when we started dating. I just know that it was roughly a year and three months ago or thereabouts. What ever. Anyhow, we’ve been together for however long and things are just now starting to get a little rocky.
I’m going to be completely honest and say that some of it is my fault; however, I don’t like hearing that. When I am told it’s my fault, it hurts my feelings and makes me throw things (inanimate objects—nothing important). It’s childish, and I realize this, but I like the chance to decide whether it’s my fault or not. Don’t judge me. I will also say that I can be a little demanding at times. I think we are all guilty of that. Probably not as much as me but still—GUILTY! Do I want to be told that? No. I would have realized it eventually. Maybe.
My boyfriend doesn’t like it when I tell him that I don’t like what he is wearing. Now, I’m sure that most men would agree with him on that one, but I’m sorry that I want him to take pride in how he looks. And those jeans were horrendous. I don’t think I’m demanding just because I told him to change them. I’m also not demanding just because I told him to blow dry his hair a little, or because I told him to put some wax in it. It’s not like I want him to change his whole style, just his hair and his jeans. Is that too much to ask?
At any rate, I guess the point of this is that relationships are even harder when you actually love the person. I mean, if I was still a serial dater…well we all know what would have happened the first time I didn’t like his jeans.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Dolly?
How can you name a hurricane Dolly? Was there a magazine article in Cosmo that some gay guy took to heart on The 10 Ways to Brighten Up a Tragedy This Summer?
Does the hurricane pose a threat or not? Because the only doll I can think of that poses any threat at all is Chucky, in which case, they should have just named it that. Oh, and that creepy doll that stays in one of my grandma's rooms may pose a threat, too, but only because (and this might be true) it seems like if you stare at it long enough it might turn it's head and look at you all creepy like. And then stab you in the heart with it's pointy doll finger.
Are we running out of names for Hurricanes? They have a book at Barnes and Noble called 500,000 Names. It even tells you what the name means so you can pick something scary like Satan or Dracula! I mean, if you need help and they don't have to be taken seriously I can totally help you out. The next 5 hurricane names should be:
"Look, Dan! Get the video camera! Dolly is coming! Dolly is coming! Helloooo dolly!" And then all you hear on the camera after that is, "Oh crap. Oh man! Dan! (gasp) Dan! I can't (gasp) swim! This dolly (gasp) is not like the ones (gasp) I had as a kid! Did a mean 4 (gasp) yr old shave her (gasp) head? Cause (gasp) she's angry!"
- Name a hurricane something fresh and pretty! It will brighten your mood even when the strong winds come-a-knockin'. And ladies, don't for get to use an umbrella. Those winds sure can be harsh on your skin and hair! I recommend and Umbrella with a fresh and pretty floral design.
- Unplanned pregnancy? Don't worry! Name it something fresh and pretty. It will brighten up your mood even when you feel like dying while pushing it out! Don't forget your umbrella!
Does the hurricane pose a threat or not? Because the only doll I can think of that poses any threat at all is Chucky, in which case, they should have just named it that. Oh, and that creepy doll that stays in one of my grandma's rooms may pose a threat, too, but only because (and this might be true) it seems like if you stare at it long enough it might turn it's head and look at you all creepy like. And then stab you in the heart with it's pointy doll finger.
Are we running out of names for Hurricanes? They have a book at Barnes and Noble called 500,000 Names. It even tells you what the name means so you can pick something scary like Satan or Dracula! I mean, if you need help and they don't have to be taken seriously I can totally help you out. The next 5 hurricane names should be:
- Batman ( "Batman is wreaking havoc on New Orleans like it's Joker!")
- Alphabet Soup ("This hurricane is spelling disaster all over Florida!")
- Bunny ("It's just hoppin' from place to place!")
- Doodle ("It's doodled here-It's doodled there.")
- Crap ("Don't step in Crap's way. It'll ruin your day!")
"Look, Dan! Get the video camera! Dolly is coming! Dolly is coming! Helloooo dolly!" And then all you hear on the camera after that is, "Oh crap. Oh man! Dan! (gasp) Dan! I can't (gasp) swim! This dolly (gasp) is not like the ones (gasp) I had as a kid! Did a mean 4 (gasp) yr old shave her (gasp) head? Cause (gasp) she's angry!"
Miley Cyrus = Big Mac
Earlier today I happened to be taking a nap in a chair. In between bouts of consciousness, I realized that TRL was on. Now I have quite a few problems with MTV's "musical televison" and more specifically TRL (the fact that they don't play entire videos, and the fact that it's basically just a vessel to stroke celebrity egos), but today my issue was a bit more specific.
I have only recently encountered this whole Miley Cyrus phenomenon, and it's confusing. Apparently the Disney channel decided that it wanted to take a marginally talented, underage jailbait girl, who happens to be the daughter of one hit wonder BILLY RAY (insert string of "whooo boy", "yeeeehaw", "honketonk", "achy breaky whatever" here) and develop a whole marketing juggernaut around her. Not only does she have a TV show, but they decided to market her as a 'musician', because why the fuck not?
I have a problem with a gigantic corporation methodically producing bland, uninspiring, cliche music to shove down our throats via corporate radio in general. But whatever.
The more specific thing I noticed while watching TRL was the fact that they were having a contest to determine the "biggest Miley fan." Whoever this magical person was, they got a t-shirt or something, and the satisfaction of knowing that they are basically devoting their lives to a 15 year old girl who isn't even that talented. It's like worshiping the movie "Boondock Saints." Yea, it's entertaining and all, but is it really worth obsessing over? No.
I was treated to quite the parade of the pathetic though. The first person was a guy (much to my surprise) who had taken a picture of himself on prom with a standup of Miley. I laughed, since he definitely went to prom by himself, and then became concerned, since the level of sadness that it takes to purchase a Miley Cyrus standup and then pose with it on prom is a level that I can't comprehend. Enjoy your basement sir.
The next three were a few girls, one who owned a skirt that matched Mileys (big deal), a girl who declared the Hannah Montana cd her favorite ever (which is just fucked up, considering the amount of actually talented artists out there), and some other girl who I can't remember anything about. Maybe she had a coaster or something. Who cares.
Outside was an even bigger group of girls of varying ages, all screaming their heads off about this person. I just can't understand what the big deal is at all. These people aren't worshiping an actual talent, all they do is worship the product of a team of marketers, producers, and other corporate backers. It's worshiping the Big Mac, but a Big Mac with an album.
My solution was to take the group of people that show up for TRL, tell them they get to "go backstage and meet ______", and load them on a barge,and ship them to another continent such as South America. I'm pretty confident that those people,with their level of intelligence, couldn't find their way back.
I have only recently encountered this whole Miley Cyrus phenomenon, and it's confusing. Apparently the Disney channel decided that it wanted to take a marginally talented, underage jailbait girl, who happens to be the daughter of one hit wonder BILLY RAY (insert string of "whooo boy", "yeeeehaw", "honketonk", "achy breaky whatever" here) and develop a whole marketing juggernaut around her. Not only does she have a TV show, but they decided to market her as a 'musician', because why the fuck not?
I have a problem with a gigantic corporation methodically producing bland, uninspiring, cliche music to shove down our throats via corporate radio in general. But whatever.
The more specific thing I noticed while watching TRL was the fact that they were having a contest to determine the "biggest Miley fan." Whoever this magical person was, they got a t-shirt or something, and the satisfaction of knowing that they are basically devoting their lives to a 15 year old girl who isn't even that talented. It's like worshiping the movie "Boondock Saints." Yea, it's entertaining and all, but is it really worth obsessing over? No.
I was treated to quite the parade of the pathetic though. The first person was a guy (much to my surprise) who had taken a picture of himself on prom with a standup of Miley. I laughed, since he definitely went to prom by himself, and then became concerned, since the level of sadness that it takes to purchase a Miley Cyrus standup and then pose with it on prom is a level that I can't comprehend. Enjoy your basement sir.
The next three were a few girls, one who owned a skirt that matched Mileys (big deal), a girl who declared the Hannah Montana cd her favorite ever (which is just fucked up, considering the amount of actually talented artists out there), and some other girl who I can't remember anything about. Maybe she had a coaster or something. Who cares.
Outside was an even bigger group of girls of varying ages, all screaming their heads off about this person. I just can't understand what the big deal is at all. These people aren't worshiping an actual talent, all they do is worship the product of a team of marketers, producers, and other corporate backers. It's worshiping the Big Mac, but a Big Mac with an album.
My solution was to take the group of people that show up for TRL, tell them they get to "go backstage and meet ______", and load them on a barge,and ship them to another continent such as South America. I'm pretty confident that those people,with their level of intelligence, couldn't find their way back.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
In 2004 I started a blog called I Only Speak the Truth. I’m not sure when Jameson started his, but it was before mine—I do know that. After creating my blog I found that I could browse Blogger and read what other people had to say. I probably went through 100 different blogs (that weren’t in English) before I ran across Jameson’s blog College Is Fun. His material was absolutely hilarious. After reading all of his banter, I realized I had to be this guy’s friend. So, I commented on one of his posts and he commented back on one of mine and that’s how it went for a good two years.
Until the Summer of 2006 (around then at least) when Jameson came to Oklahoma for his first visit, we talked on AIM , commented on each other’s posts, and took frequent smoke-breaks over the phone together. Our friendship, in my view, is probably the single most random happening ever.
For the past four years (or so) we have traded entertaining stories about being drunk and making people cry. Through the stories we have shared it has been concluded that we share a very important common denominator. We enjoy being assholes. So, here it is, people a product of our assholeishness. Please enjoy.
A New Page
I'm currently watching "I Love the New Millenium." This might make this post a bit disjointed as I'm trying to think and watch c-list actors and half rate comedians comment on random shit at the same time. They are commenting on "To Catch A Predator," the single best show ever, which is a plus.
Anyway.
A few days (maybe weeks) ago, Brittany told me she wrote another post on her old blog. Considering neither of us had really contributed to either of our blogs regularly in something like two years, this was rather odd. So basically after talking a while, we decided that we no longer really wanted to blog about drunken nights (me) or making the 20 somethings of OKC cry (her) but still wanted to write. This is the end result.
I'm still not exactly sure what the exact focus is here, we'll see where it goes.
And as for the name, loosely translated it means "I hate the unholy rabble and keep them away."
And considering that no one has read this yet, it looks like they are.
Anyway.
A few days (maybe weeks) ago, Brittany told me she wrote another post on her old blog. Considering neither of us had really contributed to either of our blogs regularly in something like two years, this was rather odd. So basically after talking a while, we decided that we no longer really wanted to blog about drunken nights (me) or making the 20 somethings of OKC cry (her) but still wanted to write. This is the end result.
I'm still not exactly sure what the exact focus is here, we'll see where it goes.
And as for the name, loosely translated it means "I hate the unholy rabble and keep them away."
And considering that no one has read this yet, it looks like they are.
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