Billy Mays Cyrus

Do people ever, like, just creep you out? Like when people smile at you and force their eyes real wide, especially if they have beady little eyes. Why.

Butt in the Front

It's that time of year again.

We can all drop $55 on movie tickets and snacks and squeal like pigs. Like pig-faced 14 year old girls. You guessed it - the new TWILIGHT SAGA movie is hitting the big screen tomorrow! Yaaay, Eclipse!

One time on a flight back from Michigan, we saw this dad reading New Moon. Weird.

I mean, so what if I own 3/4 Twilight books and am holding out for the 4th to come out on paperback so my complete set looks cohesive and right on my bookshelf and I own 2/2 of the previous films that are now currently on DVD and I think people are all wrong about Kristen Stewart's personality, I think she's actually cool and normal and a lot like what I would be if I were a celebrity at that age and why can't everyone just get off her fucking back about it, OKAY?!!!?!?!?!

Too hot to write the last week or two. More to come, once I'm done sweating.

Moshi Moshi

In my mind's eye, being able to quit bad habits and/or maintain the good ones (quit smoking, maintain a healthy diet, stop picking zits to the bone, etc.) is a sign of intelligence and civility.

Dry Humping

One of my cousins and one of my best friends each had a baby this week. I am happy and elated and enamored by their tiny baby faces and I am absolutely proud and in awe of parents. New parents who are taking a human life into their hands. You are now responsible for a human. You will make this human's life worthwhile. Remarkable and brave.

I cry watching the last fifteen minutes of Sixteen & Pregnant, without fail. If I ever have incredibly attractive, beautiful, dark-haired children, it is going to be a long nine months. Long. It's probably not going to be some Father of the Bride II shit, where I'm walking around the house with a gay Martin Short and BD Wong and I'm strutting around with Annie Hall (because she's my simultaneously pregnant mom) in vaguely coordinating outfits and Steve Martin is hooking us up with ice and what not. Nay. It will probably not be like that.

I see pregnancy and birth and parenting the same way I saw paying bills, managing a bank account, or applying for college when I was, like, 12. It seem complicated and foreign and hard. Like what are all these terms? What does it all mean? Seems like a lot of work. Much like paying bills, I'm sure it's one of those things you pick up naturally. It is a beautiful thing that I am in no way prepared to figure out. Much like synchronized swimming, playing the harp, or Sodoku (jk Sodoku is not beautiful but a Sodoku puzzle is another thing I am not prepared to ever figure out, probably because Sodoku is for dillweeds).

Congrats to all the new parents this week, especially the mommies. Solidarity, women. I am somewhat of a poor [wo]man's feminist and having a baby is feminist as shit. Sorry, men (excluding you, Arnold and you, Spanish speaking man who had a baby last year - btw, Arnold - do you want to come over tomorrow and rent James Cameron's new release, ABADAH?) - your d-hole isn't shooting souls out of it. That's coming from the womb, baby. You made a human being inside of you, moms. Somewhere between unprotected sex and birth, you implanted a soul and created life into a batch of cells and made it a human. Your body made life. This is something I cannot wrap my head around. You brought a human being into the world with your body. Vaginas are magic.

Avon Barksdale

Ew. I hate listening to people cough while they're eating (I'm doing that right now) or watching people choke on their food and watch their fat faces turn all red and their eyes water and shit. It's just gross.

Weekend Walled Lake Western Warriors

It's the weekend and I'm taking time out of my precious 48 hours of freedom to post this. I was just browsing through Facebook, in the nude, thinking about you and wanted to say hi.

I'm from the bustling little town of Walled Lake, Michigan. Here's a little bit of old timey nostalgia to brighten or seriously dampen your weekend, depending on how you look at it: an overview of the old Walled Lake Amusement Park.

Also:

I've been looking at this picture of months. The person who created this beautiful set of nails on a sixteen-fingered woman pretty much nailed all of my favorite foods & beverages, while using a bag of Cheetos and a can of Mt. Dew as backdrops. I like that all of the gourmet foods featured in set #2 all cause extreme thirst when coupled with mad cottonmouth (Kottnmouth Kings) that can only be quenched by my favorite beverages featured in set #1. Absolute perfection.

Pantene Pro-V

Let's talk about ENDINGS. ENDIIIINGS! The end of Lost, the end of the new movie, Splice, the end of The Notebook, the end of any Nicholas Sparks book, the end of an era, the end of time, "Ends" by Everlast, split ends, The End. Humans are obsessed with ends. I don't place too much value on an end. I live to read movie spoilers - I like to know the end, but I don't wait on pins and needles to find out the end. In most respects, I'd rather know than find out.

If you're going spin a yarn of any type, you better have a good ending and you better satisfy everyone with your end otherwise you will end up in the middle of a bloodbath of critics raining blows upon you. You can't satisfy everyone, though, so why not satisfy NO ONE? That's why I like an interesting, somewhat unsatisfying ending. Take the movie 'Arlington Road' that I mentioned previously. I told you I wasn't going to spoil the movie because the ending rules, but I'm going to now: the bad guys win and ride off into the sunset and the hero (a sexy Jeff Bridges) dies and is made out to be the bad guy in the media. It's an all-around frustrating ending and disappointing and not normal. But it is an idea I can support. Or the end of Lost: it left mysteries floating in the Lost universe that will absolutely never, ever be solved. Sorry, need-to-know bastards.

Like with the way most average viewers viewed Lost (sitting through 100+ hours only building to a resolution of why they're the island and what will happen in the end), most people read books to find out how it ends. What will happen and whatever happens, I better feel a sense of relief when this is over. "Did you like the way the book ended? The book ended differently than the movie. The movie just... ended. It just ends. Well the book kind of just ends too, but it's kind of an open ending, so we'll see."

Engaging in any form of "water cooler" conversation makes me want to rip my ears off.

I Choose You, Pikachu

Shit. Yesterday I had to look at some bi-fold 8.5"x11" "book" that some kid wrote about her mom and pretend it was cute. Not cute. Baby animals are cute. Not scraggly drawings, poorly written narratives, and misspelled words. Is that wrong? After that I had to look at hand-drawn copies of Pokemon characters that my co-worker's stepdaughter drew like 12 years ago. "She did not trace. I sat there and watched her do it. She should be doing some kind of art right now." Wow, a 13 year old drew some Pokemon characters freehand. Wow. Say, why are they on tracing paper?

I'm not impressed by children, unless they're little Asian baby girls (you know they're the cutest ones), soft-focused pictures of funny looking Indian babies wearing glasses (as in, most pictures of Indian babies), or they're from the deep future and look half like me. I was marginally impressive as a child, I guess. I don't play much piano these days and I am not throwing pottery any time soon, but I was tickling the ivories by age 8, tapping out a little "Für Elise" in front of a bunch of adults and taking pottery classes and shit. Now that is impressive. Deal with it! Deal with it!

On a somewhat related note, what's with getting married? Look at Kurt Russell! He's with Goldie. Not married and they've outlasted most of Hollywood. Tradition says we need to marry each other, but what's the difference? One day, I do want to be married, but weddings seem like the worst. A wedding is mad expensive. It is a day for you, women, but a day that I, as a woman, don't even want. Bridal magazines are like 900 pages each and they're pretty much all ads and I hate ads. When I get my monthly women's interest magazines, the first thing I do is tear out all the subscription cards, purfume ads, Wal*Mart ads, and any other "Advertisements" spanning more than one page.

I'd rather take the $10,000+ (that is an uninformed, probably very low estimate of the cost of a wedding) and go run around Amsterdam tripping on boomers with Mike for a month rather than waste it on one day of fugly dresses and lukewarm food. I want to get married in Vegas like Ed Helms & Heather Graham in The Hangover. I'll be sure to send you a mug and a trucker hat, and you can just go ahead and put our gift in the mail.

Taylor Swift's Music Makes My Ears Weep Blood

The MTV Movie Awards were on Sunday and do you know what the absolute highlight was for me? The swearing! WTF censors? I live for swearing! That was awesome and something I am happy to have witnessed. Fuck the FCC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Here's something I'm sad to not have witnessed. Okay, so recently my dad had an abscess above his knee, like a giant unpoppable zit. Picking it didn't work, hot compresses didn't work, and the time came to get this that bad boy lanced!

So he went to a local medical center in the fine city of Walled Lake, Michigan, and the Dr. put a needle into that jawn, injected a local anesthesia into the abcess, then he took one of those long wooden Q-tips and JAMMED THE WOODEN END INTO THE WOUND. He was wriggling it around and digging and really getting shit out of there, meanwhile some poor nurse was wiping up all of the fluid. He went back a few days later and the Dr. was like, "I don't quite like the way this looks. This might hurt a little." Then jammed the end of a long wooden Q-tip into the hole, sans anesthesia. HAHA WHAT? Personally, I would have done some at-home surgery shit and lanced it on my own. But I probably would have done something pretty similar. Who wouldn't?!

Really Ripped Abs

I have never felt healthier in this lifetime than I do now. You know why? I don't smoke cigarettes, I don't consume more than one or two alcoholic beverages per month, I eat fruits and vegetables, I don't eat meat, and, most of all, I don't worry about germs or illness. In fact, I challenge germs and illness to take a run at me, and they don't. Probably because they're scared.
Meanwhile, every hypochondriac and germophobe I know gets sick on a weekly basis. I work with a woman who gets sick every other week. On the off weeks, her baby is sick. Literally. Literally, literally. Constantly sick, constantly calling the doctor, and, lately, thinking a lot about death and dying. I think that this shit will wear down your immune system faster than anything short of AIDS. She has recently inquired about purchasing a family plot at a cemetary and has begun planning what to do for her kid, should she die before he reaches adulthood. I say, that's no way to live. I said, we're all going to die someday, and, yes, hopefully in a certain order. She took great offense to this notion, saying that you might not always outlive your kids. I said, yes, of course, but you are not going to step outside in five minutes and be hit on the head by a hammer falling from the sky. She was still skeptical. This woman has been smoking cigarettes steadily since she was 10 and she's approaching 30. Putting down the 'rettes might be a good place to start!

I'm not particularly interested in dying anytime within the next two centuries, but I'm not necessarily not afraid of the Grim Reaper. What's the big deal? I think it was that mushroom trip a few years ago when I thought about human death from the persepective of a non-human. I was an alien for a few hours, for real, the only thing that brought me out of it was thinking about grocery shopping with my mom - like, one day, you will go back to normal and will go to Meijer with your mom and everything will be straight. We're here and one day we won't be. I envision the end of life is basically exactly like the end of Lost.

Anyways, I like it when these people, especially germophobes, get coldsiewoldsies and little coughs and the sneefles. Sometimes I like to spice it up and touch surfaces they've touched and not immediately douse myself in hand sanitizer just to see what happens. You know what happens? Nothing, because my antibodies are fucking ripped.

Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death

1) When your homies insist on sitting outside when its 90 degrees outside, there isn't a cloud in the sky, you haven't applied sunscreen, and there's 85% humidity in the air and you want to order a toasty grilled cheese and some crispy, burning hot french fries, and maybe a hot cup of coffee. That shit is not happening.

Do you think that these two gentlemen would ever choose to eat outside? Nay. Nay, they would not. Sitting outside is good if you're ready to post up for a while and drink about a hundred beers or margaritas or something and the temperature is relatively mild. But I've seen people eating outside on a crisp OCTOBER morning, wearing their fucking coats. Why would you do that.

2) Do you work in an office? Here's something that you, as a member of an office family, will inevitably have to deal with - having to pretend that stamp-sized pictures of other people's children are cute, that their art and inability to spell is impressive, and that you give a shit about their dance recitals. "I think on a day when the guys aren't here, I'm going to bring in the video [of my kid's dance recital] and we can watch it in the conference room." Where are the guys going to be that day and can I go there instead. Why don't we watch video of my cats walking around my apartment, instead?

BONUS: Do you know the episode of Seinfeld where Elaine Benes is driven to madness because of the overwhelming number of office parties she is subjected to? That's me. I am that. I had to witness a particularly embarrassing rendition of "For She's a Jolly Good Fellow" a few weeks ago for one co-worker's SECOND going away party. More than half of the office's birthdays are crammed into a two month period towards the beginning of the year. It's smooth sailing for now, since there aren't many summer birthdays, but if I have to eat another square of lardy, sugary sheet cake again in this lifetime, which I inevitably will, I am going to weep blood.