Friday, April 29, 2011

The Royal Wedding

I'm up early to watch the Royal Wedding. Unfortunately I didn't get up super duper early, so I missed much of the beginning, but I've been here since 6:30 now. I'm not a little obsessed with England. That may or may not be why I'm watching this. Also, you never know when someone is going to trip, and isn't it more fun to see that when it happens rather than as a replay?

One of my favorite parts of British weddings are the hats. They range from fabulous to ridiculous, and of course-

Oh, hold on a second. I have to bask for a moment in how much I adore Kate's dress. It's a Sarah Burton for Alexander McQueen, one of my favorite designers. The skirt is so pretty! The bodice clean, elegant, and flattering. Aw adorable, they curtsied to the queen. Anyways. I love, love love the stiff collar and neckline, and that lace is so gorgeous. I'm glad she veered away from the Princess-poof and went for a (contradictory here) more modern, classic sort of dress. It's a little sleek, and very elegant. 

They are leaving now. In a carriage.

HE'S PUTTING ON WHITE GLOVES. This is why I love England. Holy goodness.

I wish hats were a thing in America. People here wear them, but they don't wear them. At my wedding (presuming I ever have one) I am going to encourage people to find the most fabulous, ridiculous hats that they can. Maybe I'll give out prizes for the best ones.

So far my favorite hat was wearing a woman who sat behind the queen for much of the ceremony. It was a softy, salmony pink, and hung in front of this woman's eye before projecting upwards in a large shamrock pattern. I thought it was Lady Gaga when I first saw her. I'm only 90% sure I was mistaken.

This summer I'm going to be in England for about a week. I'm going to make it my mission to buy the tackiest commemorative wedding tea towel I can find. Or maybe I'll get something like this mug, which was featured on Regretsy.


Thursday, April 28, 2011

Spring Break- Part I

Last week I had my best- and last- college Spring Break. Like any proper college student, I spent most of my time drunk, tanning, naked, or some combination thereof.

It. Was. Amazing.

But before the fun could start, I had to embark on a journey- for science, humanity, and the pursuit of prestige.

I ended my finals week with a three day trip to North Carolina. Last semester I took part in an advertising class, where we basically spent all our time- both in class and out- creating an advertising campaign for JCPenney (or Jacques Penne, as some call it when they want to be classy. Consider who we're talking about, and then rethink your choices).  The culmination of all this was a regional competition, in which our campaign was judged along with about 8 others.

After hours and hours of blood, sweat and tears, we didn't place. I'm not bitter about this at all (lies).

See, the trip to Charlotte wasn't a complete waste. I came away with two things. These included the reaffirmation that JCPenney is the best, tackiest example of what is wrong with retail today, and my first time riding a mechanical bull.

This is basically what I looked like.
The Whisky River bar was all it promised to be. Shitty music, crappy whisky, sketchy men in their 30's...a dream come true for a bunch of exhausted, fun-deprived college students (did I mention that this was just after finals? And thesis papers? And- well, you get the idea). It also gave me the opportunity to live out my life long dream of riding a mechanical bull like a real friggen cowboy. Not that cowboys waste their time on mechanical bulls- they have real ones, after all- but I had to think that the experience was somewhat similar.

Also, my best friend is awesome and had ridden one only the week before, and I was totally jealous.

I was filled with giddy glee to have my own turn at what promised to be a violent test of my physical, emotional, and highly inebriated strength. Unfortunately it was not as much of a challenge as I had anticipated. The creeper operating the thing seemed more intent on making our boobs jiggle than on actually throwing us. In the end, I had to throw myself off. It was a little anti-climactic. Kind of like everything M. Knight Shyamalan's done since Signs.

"Shit, honey, don't piss off the plants. They can hear you."

I felt the worst for the poor bull. He was clearly depressed. Imagine if you'd been built for power and wild, bucking adventure and were then made to give pervy yet gentle rides to intoxicated bitches? It's a tragic waste of talent.

The next day was the competition, with its depressing results. This assuaged my guilt over the hangover I was sporting when I met with my class that morning. I should mention that there were consolation prizes at this competition, perhaps a last ditch effort to make participants feel better after they ripped out our hearts and ritually consumed them. Mine contained the following 'goodies:'
  • 1 visor advertising a local medical practice
  • 3 plastic pens
  • 1 plastic TV Disney bag, advertising "The Suite Life of Zac and Cody" on one side and "Victorious" on the other
  • 1 refrigerator magnet from a local State Farm agent
  • 1 coosie
  • 1 XXXL tee shirt
It was painfully clear that all of these 'goodies' were really 'free shit we got from local vendors.' Overall, I was mostly amused by the whole thing (re: bitter). It was an experience, certainly.

Catharsis, thy name is Blogging.

Luckily, I was able to leave for real Spring Break after this ridiculousness. Feeling a little older, a little wiser, and a lot more hungover, I was picked up by my friends with a new sense of 'holy crap I need vacation RIGHT NOW.'

Little did I know that our quest for relaxation had only just begun. Like any true adventure, before we got the reward (vacation) we had to pass through three trials. First, we'd had to fight the demons of Finals Week, a valiant struggle through which we all, thank Gawd, emerged victorious.

NOTE: Mom, if you're reading this, you might want to skip the next paragraph for the sake of your Poor Worried Nerves. Borat will let you know when its safe for you to continue reading. 

Our second task was to drive through what felt like the beginning of Noah's Flood. My friends and I, in our tiny ark- aka J's car- slogged our way through fog, howling wind, and rain so thick you couldn't see the cars in front of you. It was a journey of biblical proportions to get to The Beach. I'm pretty sure we almost died a couple times (see, mom, this is why I told you to skip this paragraph). Later we found out that we'd just missed some tornadoes and massive flooding that actually did kill a handful of people. Though I have to say, scary as it was it was never as bad as flying through a Typhoon. Now that's a memory I could happily forget.

Iz safe now for nice lady!

Once we reached South Carolina, we were faced with our third and final task: Grocery shopping. We headed to the temple of Cheap and Bulky, the holiest of grocery holies: Costco.

Apparently, some bitches decided to complain that too many nefarious people were sharing their cards with people like their children and spouses, and this was ruining their exclusive Costco shopping experience.


I don't think I need to explain why this is stupid. Let's just file it away as more evidence for the "people are dicks" theorem I'm putting together.

Really, the joke was on them. After all of this the Costco employees were left with an entire grocery cart full of unpaid food which they had to return to their shelves. They lost out on close to 200$ worth of shopping AND increased their workload. Is it wrong that I took vindictive pleasure from this? Scratch that, don't care. Thankfully Super Walmart was happy to take our money. You know its a sad day when you feel that shopping at Walmart is a victory.

It was only after all of this that finally, exhausted, battered, yet triumphant, we were able to make our way to our vacation condo at The Beach. That's when the fun actually got started.

A fish, a hat, and a pie walk into a bar...

To be continued in Part II, in which we have Excellent Hats, the Best Walmart Trip Ever, and Gray's Anatomy of Drunkenness.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Working on It

Yes, yes, I know.

Nearly two weeks!

I'm a cad. I fully admit this. I should probably let you know that I was on vacation for most of that time, and while on vacation from school/work I also tend to take a break from the computer. After all, I spend upwards of 4, 5 hours a day on the damn thing. It's nice to get away sometimes.

This being said, when will there be a new blog post?

I'm going to be firm on myself and give a deadline in order to make sure I keep it. By tomorrow, at 12 pm.
(That's Thursday, April 28th, for those who don't read this today, which is April 27th. Yay for dates. ). I'm also playing around with a schedule for the future. I think its only fair that you have some idea of when I'll post things. Hopefully I'll let you know that tomorrow as well.

So I'll see you tomorrow. I'll try and be funny, as per usual. We'll see. I have a bunch of goodies saved up from vacation to share, and hopefully you'll be amused. Or you won't. I can't force you to see the genius in my humor.

For now, a little teaser:

Friday, April 15, 2011

The Most Dangerous Game

The most dangerous game is not man. It's something far more insidious.

Second only to pretentious literary references.
"But that's clearly a picture of a deer," you might be thinking.

And you clearly don't understand the danger you're in.

These fluffy tailed little bastards have been raised upon the Disney altar and worshipped as gods from the cutsie-wootsie animal pantheon. Deer, in large part thanks to Bambi, bring to mind innocence and joy. However, like most of the things you believed as a child, this is a lie.

Hate to break it to you.

What we don't realize when we tell our kids that deer are sweet and innocent is that by doing so we create victims out of our children. Victims- of suicide terrorists.

That's a picture of the fauna extremist that is going to jump in front of your car and cause you to crash. Like most extremists, deer don't care if they live or die. They only want to take you with them. Ambushing you in the dark is their weapon of choice.

These jihadist little bastards also have much better cover than your average terrorist. At the very least we're paranoid enough about the modern terrorist to have free titty shows body scans at airports and intimidating Homeland security everywhere they can make commuting inconvenient. 

Deer, on the other hand? You can't spot a terrorist if you've trained an entire generation to find them cute. Imagine if that had been Osama Bin Laden instead of Bambi. If you'd grown up with a stuffed animal of ol' Osama and watched him frolic around with adorable woodland creatures you might have had a harder time believing him capable of atrocities (on a side note, this is just more evidence to support the 'terrorists are dumb as shit' theory. Poor marketing choice, Osama. We're going to blow you up now).

Deer are excellent terrorists precisely because you would never suspect them. They draw sympathy during hunting season from idiots who don't realize that our greatest enemy is breeding unchecked in our very backyards. And though we would never let our children touch one in the wild, we do keep them in zoos for our kids to pet. They are petting terrorists. 

This is America. We don't negotiate.

This is a public service announcement. People, warn your children of the danger of deer. Combat the deadly ignorance of the next generation by explaining exactly why Bambi's mother got shot. Hint: it's not because of hunting season.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

This Just In: Continues to be Full of Crap

Reason #1: In addition to being consistently inaccurate about the weather they have now added this obnoxious pop up feature that you have to click on in order to see the hourly weather forecast. Every. Damn. Time.

No,, I do not want to save my goddamn location.

I also don't need more reasons to hate you.

Reason #2: They are so goddamn smug that they have upgraded their weather graphics. I feel that 'graphics' is the kind of pretentious terminology the picture below requires.

Is the 3D globe really necessary? The epic view of the night sky behind the planet? No., you tell the weather. Hell, you can't even do that right. You're not that important. Get over yourself.


Reason #3: Stop trying to be sexy by packing your banner ads with as many scary words as possible and misusing sensationalist terms such as "outbreak." H1N1 was an outbreak. SARS was an outbreak. Muffin-tops *shudder* are an outbreak. Higher temperatures and theoretical tornadoes do not qualify.

I know you're struggling to bring excitement back into our relationship, but this is just sad. This weather hype will inevitably make you look foolish. What are you going to do when 'outbreak' stops getting people's attention? How many new ways can you come up with to keep people interested?

You can get as much plastic surgery as you want. I still won't love you. 

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

I made some f*ing ART

D I hope you appreciate this. It's a work of art. ART. 


Oh, Japan.

Let's play a game! It's called...

Today's image brought to you by Japan.

If you answered no, congratulations! You won't be going to jail today.
If yes, then you may soon have some internet fame of your own.

Is that your doorbell ringing?

The above screen shot is from a Japanese toilet training video. You are looking at Daddy Tiger wiping Baby Tiger's butt after he successfully poops. While Baby Tiger spreads 'em up against a wall.
Good job, Baby Tiger! What was the noise you make when you poop again?

Technically, that should be translated as "Unnpa-pa."

4 years of Japanese at the college level and I'm reduced to correcting toilet video translations. My mom would be so proud.

Next time on "Is It Appropriate?" we'll look at the debate over funding religious schools with government money.

...Nah, I'm just kidding. Probably it will be another poop joke.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Free Baby Day

When I saw this on my facebook I could have sworn it read "Free Baby Day."
 It is in fact an ad for a "Free Day Bag." Apparently I'm dyslexic.


Monday, April 4, 2011

Laser Eyes: The Key to Future Presidential Campaigns?

Yesterday I had the great pleasure of going to a performance put on by my school's Electronic Music Ensemble. In one overly-used word? Awesome. I've never seen an iPad played onstage, much less one with a sweet guitar strap. Or three keyboards played at one time (was it four? two? Hard to tell). Plus a neon lights show that should have turned our concert hall into a rave.

My favorite part of the concert, however, was their incredible advertising.

Is that Richmond burning in the background?
You're not hallucinating. That's a picture of Robert E. Lee with laser eyes. 

I know that good ol' Lee was never president of anything (except my college), but he looks like a presidential candidate in this picture. Look at that noble bearing! The confident yet dignified set to his chin as he peers into your soul and literally sets it on fire. There is no way that he would lose with a laser based campaign platform. Abject terror is an excellent vote-garnering tactic.

And that's how the Patriot Act was born!
Now, imagine what would happen if presidential candidates today had laser eyes. John McCain might have beaten Obama if he'd been able to melt Osama Bin Laden's face. With such a president America would officially become the scariest country in the world, thus winning the war on terror. This would also solve the debate over economic sanctions (Effective? Not effective? We all have an opinion, and none is as poorly researched as mine). Just get rid of them all together. I can think of no better international deterrent than this:

"Remember the words of Chairman Mao: 'It's always darkest before I turn on my laser eyes."
I think I'm onto something here. As 2012 candidates begin campaigning, they should reconsider their tactics. The next election will depend not on how much money you spend on the campaign trail but rather how much you can throw at R&D to get some bitchin' cyborg modifications.

Saturday, April 2, 2011


*My roommate just reminded me that the weather's been nuts in the rest of the world as well. You know, the Christchurch earthquake in New Zealand, Tsunami/Earthquake/radiation in Japan, bizarre tornado warnings in California...

** Just checked my friend Kimber's blog, and she had a similar entry for Florida. Check it out!

Sometimes I hate being right.


Good God I'm Writing About the Weather.

 Today, my friends, may be the beginning of the End of Days.

                                          See what I did there?

The day started out sunny, then quickly switched to grey and rainy. Then back to sunny- while still raining.
Later, hail. Then sun. Then sun AND hail, and rain, and- you get the idea.

Hmm, I thought to myself. Erratic, violent weather? Sounds familiar. Wonder how all the first born males are doing. They have been having problems in Egypt...

Lookin' good, Jesus.
The clincher was the Jehovah's witness pamphlet left on our door inviting us to "celebrate the anniversary of Jesus' death." It came with a large picture of Jesus on the back, painted with lovely, nonthreatening pastels. Just like hospital walls.

Jesus, by the way, got a pretty impressive haircut.

As I write this it is hailing once again. Actually I thought it was rain- pouring rain. However, stepping outside further investigation proves the rain to be tiny balls of ice. I'll let you know when the hail turns to fire and locusts start invading my house. We have had quite the infestation of ants lately. Are ants the locusts of modern America? Do we even have locusts in America?
Are there answers to these questions? Will I look them up? Will this paragraph ever end?
According to it's supposed to be partly sunny today with 0% chance of precipitation. Haha,! You got me with your April Fools joke.

Oh, wait. It's April 2nd.

I have lost faith in you, You provided me with false information one too many times. From now on I'm making my own weather reports.