An Open Letter to Weather.com

Dear Weather.com: I have some concerns about your website that I wanted to share with you. I've included them in this letter, along with exemplary pictures, for your convenience. Please don't take this the wrong way- consider it constructive, loving criticism from a friend.


First, I'd like to address your handling of the newest threat from our seas, tropical storm Ophelia. 

I can tell you're stressing, weather.com. You've probably got some pretty fabulous banner ads in the making, getting ready to prepare us for the storm with your classic combination of hyperbole and hysteria.  But- and I know how hard this is for you- try not to get too excited this time. Ophelia will probably drown herself before anything terrible happens.*


I also wanted to point out an error in an advertisement I saw on your site. I think someone got the copy wrong. Don't worry- I corrected it for you!

Finally, I'd like to turn to one of your news stories.

Nice job on the green screen!

Let's look a bit closer at this story's headline:

I hate to be so critical, but to this I can have only one reaction: DURRRRRRRRP!


What, exactly, is the speed of thought, Weather.com? How did you measure it? How, for that matter, are you measuring the melting of the arctic ice? It must be melting pretty quickly to go faster than thought. Say I've had 5 thoughts (scientifically abbreviated to th) during the last 10 seconds. That's a 5th/10s ratio, or 1th/s. The rate of the arctic ice melting is about 1 cm per year, or a 1cm/3,556,926s ratio.** Obviously thoughts move much, much much faster than the speed of melting ice in the arctic circle. My scientific conclusion?  Either I'm a genius, or- and I hate to break it to you, Weather.com, since we're such good friends- you may be retarded.


I think the answer to that question is clear.  


I dearly hope this letter hasn't ruined our friendship. I'm afraid that there's a chance I've lost your good opinion, but though it hurts, I'll move on. Luckily, my good opinion of you was lost a long time ago!


Sincerely,


BraveWorldGirl.












*Please tell me you get this joke.
**Statistics and equations brought to you by the Harold Camping Society for Better Math.

More Weird Shit I Did as a Child- the Sculpture Edition.

(I'm going to start this post with an irrelevant story.)

This morning I locked my keys in my car. In my own goddamn driveway.

Granted, this could have happened in worse locations- a dunk'n'donuts on the highway, for instance- so I guess I was lucky in that respect. But still. It's galling, and annoying, and mostly I just feel pretty dumb. This meant that I have been stuck in my house all day, and conceivably will continue to be trapped indoors until either (a) someone comes and rescues me, or (b) my mother comes home with her set of keys.

To entertain myself, I decided to do some baking, a hobby I enjoy but rarely have the time/motivation to indulge. Not only was I going to bake, I decided, but I was going to bake something challenging! I decided on Three Pepper Cookies, which are essentially peppery-sweet cookies dipped in chocolate. Here's the recipe, in case you are curious : http://www.yummly.com/recipe/Three_pepper-Spice-Cookies_-Recipezaar

ANYWAYS. On the left hand corner of the top shelf of my spice cabinet, where no-ones been in, oh, years, was a relic of my childhood. It looked like this:

I sort of vaguely remember crafting this racist-Myan ripoff statue in middle school. I think the assignment was to... actually, I have no idea. I can't think of any topic they would give small children that would result in this. Indo-colonialist stereotypes? It's clearly supposed to be some poor South American tribes-person sacrificing to his pagan god.

World, I apologize for this piece of shit.

Yes, that is a skull. I think. *sighs*. 

But you know what? Everyone has one weird art project as a child, right?

Right?

I was a strange child. 

So I had a big sculpture phase in middle school, ok? Or was it freshman year...
At least this wasn't, you know, blatantly racist. The idea was cool (I thought). It was supposed to look as if you'd picked up a block of water, and then had all the bits of fish swimming around and through it. Except the cube of water looked more like...well, a big heavy box.  With penises sticking out of it.

At least my stuff was better than my brother's.

Of course, he made this in first grade. Don't tell. 

Poaching Eggs: More Difficult Than Anticipated

Yes! I am back!

I could give a whole big paragraph full of excuses about why I haven't updated in, oh, two months. I could go on and on about the minor existential crisis I've had since graduating, working at a discount liquor store, and attempting to face up to the fact that a) I'm not going back to school and b) I need to figure out What To Do With My Life. And the broken computer (several times...), leading to the sexy, sexy new mac currently sitting on my lap. But I won't. You know why?

Because I'm both lazy and shameless.

Instead I'll just jump right back in. I don't know how much I'll be updating or what I'll be updating about. Let's just take this one day at a time.

For the immediate future, I'd like to talk about eggs. Specifically, poached eggs, which are delicious and possibly my favorite way to eat unborn fetuses.

Now, I've poached an egg before. I swear I have. I used to work with an elderly Scicillian man (re: 92 and still driving) who taught me how to do it. Under his tutelage, I managed to poach quite a few- AND THEY WERE DELICIOUS...if a little vinegary.

When a man that old tells you to keep adding vinegar, you listen. It's just possible that he reached such an age by pickling himself, and hey- if it works, it works!

The point is that I used to be quite good at poaching eggs. This morning, however, I had a little difficulty.

See how it's all white and cloudy? That's wrong. 

Now, I don't know if you've ever made a poached egg before. It's really not that hard. Basically, you heat water with a bit of vinegar until it is almost- but not quite- simmering. Then you stir the water rapidly, creating a whirlpool that will serve to wrap the egg around itself, keeping it together. Slide in your egg, wait a few minutes, and BAM. Eggy-goodness.

And so we try again!

After mourning my first attempt I decided to give it another go. On the second try, I had a lot more luck. The trick? I turned up the heat until it was just about simmering, and added a lot bit more vinegar.

Look! Look! It stayed together HALLELUJAH. 

The delicious final product.

And success! To complete my eggy-masterpiece, I ate it atop buttered sticky rice, as they do in Japan when they feel like a 'Western' breakfast. Yummy yummy in my tummy.



Final note: As I sit writing this, I am listening to Lykke Li's 'I Follow Rivers.' It's a good song- if you haven't heard it, click on my link and listen to it. And if you're very lucky, as I am, there will be a bird outside your window chirping on beat with the song.


Final Note 2: Here we have the screen capture du jour. It comes to us from our friends at Facebook advertising.

I'm pretty sure he'd prefer a sandwich.

Ta ta for now, folks! Braveworldgirl OUT.

TEN THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU- Gateway Edition.

Last night I set my laptop charger on fire. No, not in a fit of pyromania- I wouldn't have used my laptop for that, too expensive, durr- but as the result of 6 months of neglect towards the poor thing. Probably should have done something when the wires began showing through the battery. Oh well.

Now I'm on my parent's home computer. It's a goddamn Gateway. Really that's all I need to say.

...

Nah who the fuck am I kidding, I'm totally gonna complain about this piece of crap. It's slow. It's old. It's ugly. It does nothing for society except to serve as a last defense against the tragic loss of internet access that would otherwise be my fate.

HATE.

To bleed off some of my frustration, here are ten things I wish I could do to this big box of shit. Maybe you will find yourself inspired. Let me know if you do- I want pictures.

Without further ado...

1. Turn the monitor into a fish tank. A very small, very ugly fish tank.
2. SET IT ON FIRE.
3. This one is a multi-parter. First, find an enclosed box or desk and drill a hole in the top big enough to fit a bowling ball (failing a desk, you may use a table with a cunningly positioned table cloth to get a similar effect). Next, hollow out your computer monitor and put it over the hole. Place yourself inside the enclosed object and stick your head into the computer. Now comes the fun part. When your roomate/boyfriend/mom comes down into your basement apartment to ask for rent money (again) say solemnly, "Na-ah-ah, You didn't say the magic word!"*  Repeat this until they run away screaming.
4. Take it into an empty field and beat it with a baseball bat until it stops moving, ala Office Space.
5. Kick it in the face, then SET IT ON FIRE. AGAIN.
6. Take the tower up to the top of a very tall building. Wait for either a) an enemy or b) an ugly person to walk underneath. Drop it.
7. Doorstop.
8. Keep it set up as though it works, then hide your pot/booze/secret missile codes inside.
9. Dump it on Bill Gate's front lawn, while screaming "YOU DID THIS, YOU BASTARD."
10. Turn it into a toilet.

Again, feel free to borrow- but I want pictures. Unless you chose #10, in which case keep it to yourself.




*Note: This may be replaced with either "Just what do you think you're doing, Dave?" or "You will be deleted!", depending on your particular brand of nerd-dom.

Kids Say the Darndest Things

While cleaning my room the other day, I found an old journal from 5th grade. That was the year I had Mr. Folk, the famous teacher with one fake ear (but was it the right? Or the left? He would never say; I suppose I'll never know). I started flipping through this thing, and I came to one conclusion:

I was a weird little kid.

I thought you might find some of this amusing. So, of course, I'm putting it on my blog. With illustrations. I even left in all the bad grammar and spelling mistakes, because hey- shits funny. You're welcome.

Hopefully you'll be as amused as I was to read them. If not, well I don't really care. Have fun!




#1: Snow, or What the Hell Was I On?

3/23/00

I was very suprised when it snowed on the first day of spring luckily, it didn't stick. It was snowing the size of footballs! Snowing cats and dogs! Pancakes! Giants!...It was a miracle! ...I'm telling you, its this El Nino thing. The guys a complete loony! I don't think there's a loony bin in this side of the GALAXY big enough to hold his nuttiness. The guy must have had a brain transplant were you give away your brain but don't get a replacement!

An Artist's Rendering.

#2: I Was an Anxious Child


4/4/00
yesterday, I went to Mc.D. I had heard that they have Furby's at their stores. I was quite pleased. But then I had a thought; WHAt if they didn't have them? I was soon to find out....
When we got there the drive through was too crowded so we went inside. The lines were relatively long, but withstandable. The question still remained; Did they have them?

Finally it was our turn. we ordered. I was all tense. Then, to my great releif, i saw the man put in the Furby! i was all excited. The Furby was white with brown spots it has pink and brown ears. I makes a gurgling noise. 
 

PUT IT IN THE F!*%ING BAG, BITCH.

#3: Adventures with Proper Nouns


Date Unknown
The Other day I was over at Emilys house with Kristena. We were going outside to play crocay. When we opened the door we heard a wierd sound like this, "Eeeeooooeee." I peaked my head outside the door and in the Bushes was a racoon! We got really excited and ran to tell Emilys dad. He chased it away. I was really excited! 
Later on, When I got home I toll my dad. He said that the racoon must have rabies. I got very nervous.

GET OUT OF THOSE BUSHES, MR. RACCOON.

QUICK! EVERYBODY PANIC!

The apocalypse is this Saturday.

Oh, but don't worry. Saturday isn't the END end. It's just when all the good people who love Jesus get to go to heaven. The rest of us have five months of earthquakes, fires, and zombie hordes to look forward to before October 21st, when the world will actually be destroyed.

Graduation is gonna be badass.
 
All the recent hullabaloo comes from an octogenarian, Christian radio guru named Harold Camping. You can read about his predictions on the technological dinosaur that is his website.

A product of the AARP's new 'elderly web design' program.

I haven't seen something so ugly since 1992.  I bet he still plays Minesweeper.

Oh, I'm sorry, did you think 2012 was the apocalypse? Well you were wrong. And in case you were confused, he's made it nice and obvious right on the front of his website. Next to the countdown.

Look at that- "The bible guarantees it!" That's interesting, as I'm pretty sure there's nothing in the bible pointing to May 21, 2011 as the End of Times. I guess I'm not in the loop since I'm just a silly Jew. Besides Mr. Camping made a very special mathematical formula that clearly pinpoints 5/21/11 to be the end of the world. You probably wouldn't understand it unless you were really really smart and good at Hard Math like he is.

 

I don't remember this being at the end of the quadratic equation...

How can you not believe what he says? He proved it with math. Math! The world runs on math. It is never, ever wrong, especially when predicting the apocalypse. I mean, okay, there was Y2k, but that was just a glitch. Look the point is that math is always right, especially when it comes from numbers found in a 400+ year old book. And especially when it comes from this guy:

Harold Camping: the product of forbidden love.

He has such conviction, such passion, behind his scientific mathematical formula. This is what he said to New York Magazine:

"God has given sooo much information in the Bible about this, and so many proofs, and so many signs, that we know it is absolutely going to happen without any question....I would be absolutely in rebellion against God if I thought anything other than it is absolutely going to happen without any question."

I wonder if that's what he said in 1994, the last time he predicted the End of Times. That was just a "preliminary study," though. He was just testing it out.


GUYS HE'S TOTALLY CERTAIN THIS TIME. FO REALZ.

But you may not be a believer yet. Dear old Harold is just one man, and maybe his calculator was acting up when he divided 7000 by the year of Noah's Flood. What about God? What does he have to say?

Well don't you worry your pretty little head. We're not down this proverbial coal mine without a canary to warn us of disaster.

Ooh, Papyrus! Haven't seen THAT since 8th grade.

Yes, that's right. God put gays on earth as an End of Times litmus test. Every time an office accepted a gay partner at an office party, or a state validated gay marriage, we were taking one step closer to the apocalypse. No wonder the government is so discriminatory to a segment of the population that has done nothing more than love the people they love. Apparently the US government has been taking Mr. Camping's advice- though not for much longer!

I hope Obama has a wrathful-God contingency plan.

 I could go on. I could tell you why Camping's assertion that "the Bible has every word in the original language — it was written by God..." is ridiculous, especially since he uses the King James bible which wasn't written until 1611 (that's 1,611 years after Jesus was born). I could explain that no, math doesn't work like that, Mr. Camping. I could even make fun of his website some more. Trust me when I say there's plenty of material.

But I think that's enough. The point is that this 'end of times' is no worse than every other 'end of times' that has ever been predicted. And so far, they've all been wrong - even though I'm sure that each prophet was always just as confident in his prediction as Mr. Camping. We need to stop waiting for God to take us away from this planet. We're not going anywhere until we die, people. And if I'm wrong, fine. I'd rather be down here fighting off zombies with the sinners than up there with all the boring saints.

In case you want to learn more, I encourage you to visit Mr. Camping's site. Perhaps you would like to read one of his insightful articles, as sampled below. I, personally, am intrigued by "I Hope God Will Save Me!" I'm pretty sure I know the answer already.

In addition, you can read Mr. Camping's interview with New York magazine here.

Stop and Think, Advertisers

I found this advertisement on the Olive Garden's website. And don't worry, I wasn't looking at the Olive Garden for any reason other than to find out what the hell a "Pastachetti" is (the answer is just as disgusting as the name would have you guess).

This advertisement does not make me want gourmet truck food, whatever the hell that is. It makes me want to stay the fuck away from the truck, which, judging from the picture, is driven by aliens eager to stick an anal probe up my ass. And what the hell is that thing on the end? Is that supposed to be a dog? It looks more like a Gremlin.

And not the cute kind, either.

So either there are aliens or evil gremlins on that truck. Or both. Either way, all the signs point to Stay the Fuck Away.