That's right, people. The gay agenda! They're out to get us! They are going to rain down their rainbow terror on us breeders!
Ok...so anyway...I just saw Milk a couple of days ago - great movie. I applaud the efforts of the civil rights movement for gay equality. Although I have to admit, that was a little too much exposure to gayness even for me. But anyway...awesome role for Sean Penn.
So what was I saying? Oh yes, mass paranoia regarding imminent gayness.
Check out this controversial commercial....the fact that these people are serious is hysterical to me.
But the best part of all is the remakes available none other than on the internet. Oh satire, how I love you and the truth you hilariously deliver.
The CAPS, which represent loudness, is a total understatement in this story.
THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD Whinocerous tromps down the hall with her explosive land mine heels into the parents' bedroom. WAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! The baby wails from his room after she runs past the pointlessly closed door. "DADDY!!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING, DADDY???" "SHHH!!!" Mommy spittles, irritated from down the hall as she dunks a bag of green tea in some hot water. Daddy understands, "You have to be quiet, sweetie, the baby is trying to sleep!" "WHAT?" Mommy chuckles, rolls her eyes and sighs in her kitchen on yet another fine morning.
Last night I dreamt people dressed up as scary pink t-rexes were swinging psychotically on swings while I unsuccessfully tried to take a picture. Then I was all of a sudden in a cooking school and some dudes were trying to molest me and my husband came and tried to get the harassers away from me after I beat one up ( really I totally beat that fucker to smithereens and it was awesome) - I yelled to my husband, "PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE!!" and he finally punched one and I was happy about it.
I remember being in a high rise building and having to go down an elevator to get out of the place. Weird. Actually, I just remembered I've had high rise buildings with elevator sequences in my dreams before....only last time it was a fancy hotel with black and green marble floors and walls inside. Hmm. I wonder if I have some kind of phallic power trip in my subconscious. That would totally not surprise me at all. I have a thing for skyscrapers I guess. Suck on that one for a 45 minute session, Freud.
In other news, PETA asked the Pet Shop Boys to change their name....I don't know WTF for, but you know even though they probably knew damn well they wouldn't change their name, they just wanted the press coverage. Now I'm all about being humane to animals, but PETA people are just insane. Insane, like, worse the my crazy ass dreams, insane.
Yellow speckles of light flashed and flickered, glossy and dull on the dark water surface. Statik shivered in the chilly night breeze. Her vacant gaze over the harbor abruptly dispelled and she snapped back into acknowledgment of the real world; goosebumps covered her arms, the skin on her fingers cold, thin and crackling. She reached for her cable-knit zip-up sweater and put it on. As the breeze died down, she closed her eyes and took a deep, musky freshwater breath; she opened her eyes and slowly sighed.
For a moment she imagined herself on a charter boat, set out to sea for a fishing expedition. No women allowed on the boat. Statik snorted and kicked an offensive clump of dried mud into the water. "Fucking assholes," she muttered to herself, "I'm not like most women - I can take a fish off a hook and have a beer just like any dude. I don't necessarily have to complain about anything. Whatever."
Statik sighed once more then leaned over the cold steel railing to look at the lapping water on the rocks below. She searched for her warm spot on the rail from where she was zoning out earlier but couldn't find it. She gave up and turned away to walk home. Or maybe she would stop at a bar first.
No, no, who would be at the bar? Strangers? Nah, when you're in a bar, nobody is a stranger, they're more like fellow members of a support group or patients in a mental hospital. You are totally peers and you can totally just go up and talk to whoever you want to, but don't expect to come out with a bring-home-to-mama-boyfriend or a really nice guy who just wants to buy you dinner and just happens to have concert tickets he doesn't want laying around. Expect two drunk probably depressed, apathetic, lonely losers lovers to go back to someone's car place and have sloppy intense sex then considering a drive home pass out immediately thereafter. Then, in the morning, you do the walk of shame go to breakfast at a diner, hair in a messy ponytail, still wearing make-up from the night before and your penis-lender's second comfiest t-shirt. It could be fun.
Statik looked up at the stars twinkling, fixed and solid. How can something that seems to move so slow be so beautiful? It's the same old constellations. It's the same old planets. The same old galaxy. Yet in it's relatively fixed infinity, it is infinitely fascinating, relative to me anyway. At home, the stereo could be turned on and turned up; drinking and dancing could ensue and none would be the wiser if she passed out on the couch watching reality cooking shows recorded on the DVR. She walked past an open door with a bar inside, purple and green neon lights, and some awful classic rock song seeping down the stairs into the gutter. She plugged in her earphones, switched on the mp3 player and played "When the Stars Go Blue" as sung by Bono and The Corrs.
Where do you go when you're lonely? Where do you go when you're blue? Where do you go when you're lonely? I'll follow you...
It looks like some ridiculous green thing that I'll never see in my lifetime.
It would be a massive building and I would totally love just a brick of it, kthx loaded people.
Check out that link above and see, but for you lazy uninterested people, here is some totally unrelated shit to see if you're paying attention:
Actually, what you see above is what I've found to be a Korean time-honored tradition among young boys, called dong chim. All a boy has to do is to put their open hands together in a diving position, sneak up behind a boy, then simply jab your little shark-fin up their butt.
I suppose the fun of it all is to see the reaction afterwards...otherwise why in the hell would they make a statue of it? lmao
Indeed, that is exactly what I said when I woke up this morning because I dreamt my Asian friend looked like Bjork and all of a sudden, Hitler found us hiding under a slab of concrete, dragged her out and raped her - although eventually I got up and tried to stop the whole thing, somehow he got himself all blown up. I don't know exactly but I believe we were in the rubble and ruin of a Grecian University or something. The columns gave it away. But then, on a yellowed parchment of paper, a weird animated montage of penis-sized condom shapes moved like pistons up and down over musical notation lines - like a really fucked up animated symphony - and red-ochre smudges appeared at each thrust to represent symbolically the savage motions of the rape. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH MY BRAIN!
I know I watched some crazy Manga anime on the sci fi channel the other night and I know I watched Hercules yesterday, and was listening to Bjork several days ago on YouTube videos AND last night I watched some old 1930's Japanese films, but JESUS. Where the hell did Hitler come from? The time period maybe? So weird.
I've actually been having a lot of awful dreams lately. I was going to say weird dreams, but I've been having weird dreams all my life. I usually remember my dreams every morning. But when I say I've been having awful dreams, I mean so awful that I awake in the middle of the night sobbing and bawling my eyes out. HOW HORRIBLE. Perhaps it's due to stress. Maybe if I can't think of anything to blog about, I'll just write about my dreams. They're definitely interesting enough....if you like TABLOIDS.
Here's what I think inspired my brain to do that crazy musical parchment paper animation sequence: Labuat
Yes....I look forward every year to a trip to the shore....beach bound forever in my soul. My favorite smell is coconut...and I even go so far as to wear Hawaiian Tropic tanning oil as a perfume and to moisturize my hands all year round. I own more tropical garb probably than native Hawaiians do.
It's a wonder I don't do the grass skirt thing.
I don't ever dress up as a hula dancer or anything like that for Halloween because I wouldn't feel like I was wearing a costume. I am Island Girl at heart.
I digress though.
I can remember a time at the beach that I didn't like so much, but got over fairly quickly. You know it's love when you get over the negative stuff in a hurry.
I was around 6 years old, I guess. My mom took me to the beach, I believe with my step-dad - I think they were only dating at the time. I don't remember those kinds of details.
I was happily munching away on some crunchy Cheetos in the high noon sun on South Padre Island. The black scratchy seaweed littered all over the beach as far as the eye could see. In the distance, oil refineries gleamed in the daylight like dormant alien ships docked on the beach. Whatever. The hot sand burned my feet so I stayed on the towels as much as possible. When I did wander around, I could either go toward the water and the cooler sand, or I could maybe walk a few feet before I was too close to the cars parked in the lot behind us. The sand dunes flanking the parking lot were sort of comforting, like a safety wall guarding our happiness from the rest of the world. Some of them had tufts of tall grass shooting out of the tops of them like the unwanted chin hairs I get sometimes. Most of them were just grayish-tan sand with flecks of black gathering at the tips.
The precise moment of unhappiness came when I thought it would be nice to feed the seagulls a morsel from my bag of Cheetos. Big Mistake. Mom said don't do that, of course, but did I listen? Of course not! I threw one up into the air so I could see them dive for it and catch it. Then once they learned that I was The Source, they started dive bombing ME! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek! I squealed and mom shooed them all away for me and told me not to feed them ever because they would come after me and all my chips if I did. I listened that time.
I was bent out of shape from it for a while and so stayed on the safety of my beach towel, but I'm sure I finally got over it, hopped over a few piles of black seaweed and made my way into the ocean again.
And by the way, seagulls are a pain in the ass no matter what state you find them in from Texas to New Jersey. But....it is undeniable their inherent obsession with man-made chips.
So I found this site called Omegle, where you talk to random strangers who happen to be online same as you. People are SO weird when they get on the internets.
Connecting to server... You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi! You: HI Stranger: ARE YOU THE CHINESE CLOWN BOY You: NO I LIKE CAPS Stranger: FUCK Stranger: SHIT Stranger: SORRY I GOT TOURETTES You: Oh I don't like caps anymore You: at least you can spell though Stranger: do you like SHIT FACE FUCKTARD Stranger: sorry that was a mistake You: is that a new emo band? Stranger: its my tourettes kicking in COCK Stranger: SHIT Stranger: ASS You: I didn't know it affected typing skills too...thought it was just a verbal thing Stranger: HAHAHAAA you are so funny i fell down of my dinosaur You: dude, where do you get a dinosaur? Stranger: FROM you MOM You: DAMN IT! Stranger: i also fucked er You: SOMEONE ALWAYS SPOILS THE SURPRISES FOR ME! Stranger: yeah FUCK SHIT You: I never get to be surprised for xmas! I always accidentally find shit Stranger: PUSSY ASS GAY NIG..NIG...NIGG... Stranger: phew that was close You: So how was fucking in the ER? You: never tried that on Stranger: fucking what You: you said "I also fucked er" You: I assuming you don't make typos because even your tourettes outburts are spelled perfectly You: just sayin'
Stranger: hey You: hey Stranger: where r u from? You: east coast You: you? Stranger: southern coast (of france) ;) Stranger: YC? You: Cool. Stranger: NYC? You: Nah, PA Stranger: PA? Your conversational partner has disconnected.