Greetings, gentle readers! Come, sit and attend to another superficial movie review that will not help you determine the merits of the film but should provide a welcome distraction from your dull work day and all those other boring shitty blogs.
This week's selection is Transamerica, a heartwarming (and at times pantswarming) tale of a male-to-female transsexual who flies across the country after finding out she fathered a son during a college fling. The resulting road trip back finds the two bonding and blah blah blah, go read a summary somewhere else.
Ok, first off, Felicity Huffman was unbelievable in this role. Before seeing the movie, I couldn't think why they wouldn't get a man or an actual transsexual to play the part, but now I don't care because Felicity was better. It's too bad the Oscar for having a funny voice went to Philip Seymour Hoffman (though he deserved it too, ok?) because as big a fan as I am of Reese Whitherspoon and as amazing as she was in Walk the Line, Ms. Huffman deserved that award.
It should also have won Best Make-Up because they made her look really ugly!
Also, they need a new Oscar category: Hottest Child-turned-20-something Actor who Gets Naked On Screen and Plays a Gay Character. They need that category and every year, they need to give it to Kevin Zegers because I want him to play the same character for the rest of his life, and I want him to be praised. He's totally hot, I can't even handle it. Unfortunately, a Google image search doesn't have any naked pics, so you're just gonna have to go see the movie over and over again. You get to see his wang.
So ok, but the movie was really good regardless. I laughed, I cried, I drooled all over my therapist... so go see it.
SEE Felicity Huffman's fake penis! HEAR the painful-to-listen-to faux voice Ms. Huffman created! LAUGH as Fionnula Flanagan is way too tan and hilarious and steals the show!
Transamerica!
Ignore this rant
I got a call saying "Oh, so the blown-up copy of your driver's license that you went to all that trouble to make and fax to us as part of your apartment application was too dark. Now we want you to scan it and send it to us by e-mail. This will delay the application process, I hope for your sake we can keep holding the apartment for that long, CHUMP!"
What the hell? You have ALL of my information, jerkface! You see that I have a job lined up (which is a lie, my dad's boss is pretending to hire me and pay me lots of money to appease the apartment people) and all this money in my account and a guarantor who makes like a billion dollars (not really). But you're what? Afraid I'm too UGLY to live in New York City? Just how is my license picture SOOOOO important???
Oooh, maybe I'm a terrorist and that's why the picture being dark was a problem. If you can just make sure I'm white... because who's ever heard of a white terrorist, what a ridiculous idea!
I'll show you my license... TO KILL! I hate everybody, nobody better tell me that people are nice because I know they suck real hard!
The worst part, though, was when we offered the apartment complex to pay the entire year's rent right then. My dad was standing there with his checkbook because he's the nicest dad ever (better than your dad), and he said "I'll pay you up front for an entire year, ok, what exactly is this application for? Just give me the damn apartment!" Except he was nice. And yet no, they say they need to consider it. Fine! Bureacracy. Whatever. Now bureacracy wants to make sure I look good.
I'm just sorry I didn't smile.
What the hell? You have ALL of my information, jerkface! You see that I have a job lined up (which is a lie, my dad's boss is pretending to hire me and pay me lots of money to appease the apartment people) and all this money in my account and a guarantor who makes like a billion dollars (not really). But you're what? Afraid I'm too UGLY to live in New York City? Just how is my license picture SOOOOO important???
Oooh, maybe I'm a terrorist and that's why the picture being dark was a problem. If you can just make sure I'm white... because who's ever heard of a white terrorist, what a ridiculous idea!
I'll show you my license... TO KILL! I hate everybody, nobody better tell me that people are nice because I know they suck real hard!
The worst part, though, was when we offered the apartment complex to pay the entire year's rent right then. My dad was standing there with his checkbook because he's the nicest dad ever (better than your dad), and he said "I'll pay you up front for an entire year, ok, what exactly is this application for? Just give me the damn apartment!" Except he was nice. And yet no, they say they need to consider it. Fine! Bureacracy. Whatever. Now bureacracy wants to make sure I look good.
I'm just sorry I didn't smile.
Brokeback Mountain: No, the book
I just sat down and read "Brokeback Mountain", y'know the short story the movie was based on... the reason it won adapted screenplay instead of regular screenplay. Yes, (moving) pictures can be fun, but one really ought to look at the nice words... especially in this case.
It's a beautiful story, and it has that subtle execution and understanding of the human animal (as much as I hate that stupid term) that I always fall for in good literature. I, for one, don't need another overdone love story with sweeping music and slow motion bullshit field of daisies "I'll never let go, Jack, I'll never let go" crap that people seem to eat up so much. Basically, it's got everything that made the movie awesome, except it's made out of words, and the perfect ones at that.
Despite all the similarity, though, it sits a lot differently in my head than the movie did, partially because of the pacing and partially because books are just more intimate by their nature. It took me less than an hour to read, and most of that time was spent reading the last sentence over and over again no less than twenty-five times with tears in my eyes only to be finally snapped out of it by my cell phone going all "BUZZ BUZZ! COMMUNICATION! DAILY LIFE! SOCIAL, STRESS, AAAAAAAAH!" I hate my cell phone ring.
So go read it because I'm not saying any more. The way in which this book resonated with me is really personal, and like all things personal in my life, I can't really express it because it's too abstract. So I'm gonna go back and read the ending a second time so I can sit in it longer. And you're going to go to your local library (or just buy the damn thing for $10), and you're going to read it, and you're going to think it's special too. Now go.... unless you're my friend Billy who's my houseguest for the week, in which case it's sitting on my coffee table right in front of you, so read it (it's short) and remember not to go into the secret room with the cat box, and it's probably not a good idea to open the fridge either.
It's a beautiful story, and it has that subtle execution and understanding of the human animal (as much as I hate that stupid term) that I always fall for in good literature. I, for one, don't need another overdone love story with sweeping music and slow motion bullshit field of daisies "I'll never let go, Jack, I'll never let go" crap that people seem to eat up so much. Basically, it's got everything that made the movie awesome, except it's made out of words, and the perfect ones at that.
Despite all the similarity, though, it sits a lot differently in my head than the movie did, partially because of the pacing and partially because books are just more intimate by their nature. It took me less than an hour to read, and most of that time was spent reading the last sentence over and over again no less than twenty-five times with tears in my eyes only to be finally snapped out of it by my cell phone going all "BUZZ BUZZ! COMMUNICATION! DAILY LIFE! SOCIAL, STRESS, AAAAAAAAH!" I hate my cell phone ring.
So go read it because I'm not saying any more. The way in which this book resonated with me is really personal, and like all things personal in my life, I can't really express it because it's too abstract. So I'm gonna go back and read the ending a second time so I can sit in it longer. And you're going to go to your local library (or just buy the damn thing for $10), and you're going to read it, and you're going to think it's special too. Now go.... unless you're my friend Billy who's my houseguest for the week, in which case it's sitting on my coffee table right in front of you, so read it (it's short) and remember not to go into the secret room with the cat box, and it's probably not a good idea to open the fridge either.
Making faces
Ok, so basically I have nothing at all to talk about so I figured I'd show everyone what I look like because mostly I think I'm pretty amazing. But as a fun twist on the "post random pictures of myself" theme, I'm going to show you who myheritage.com thinks I look like. They have this nifty little tool where you upload a picture of your face, and they compare it to celebrities. I made my comparisons into a handy jpeg using my mad photoshop skillz. It took me a long time because first I had to crop and resize my picture, and then I had to copy all of them into one long one. I'm so good at photoshop I can hardly even handle it.
See? I look exactly like Colin Firth, River Phoenix, Katie Holmes, and Kevin Costner. The first picture is me, but I wouldn't be surprised if you thought it was also a picture of River Phoenix because we look so much alike. One time my mom came up to me while I was making cereal and she said "OMG RIVER PHOENIX CAN I HAVE YOUR AUTOGRAPH???" and then I said "No" and she said "Oh, it's just you, nevermind, I didn't want it anyway."
Another picture I uploaded said I looked like Anne Frank. I guess it's because all Jewish people look the same.
See? I look exactly like Colin Firth, River Phoenix, Katie Holmes, and Kevin Costner. The first picture is me, but I wouldn't be surprised if you thought it was also a picture of River Phoenix because we look so much alike. One time my mom came up to me while I was making cereal and she said "OMG RIVER PHOENIX CAN I HAVE YOUR AUTOGRAPH???" and then I said "No" and she said "Oh, it's just you, nevermind, I didn't want it anyway."
Another picture I uploaded said I looked like Anne Frank. I guess it's because all Jewish people look the same.
Obligatory Oscar post
Everyone hurry up and complain about how Brokeback Mountain didn't get the Oscar because Hollywood is so homophobic! Make sure you mention that it got all those guild awards so omg it should totally have won and I'm so mad INJUSTICE INJUSTICE! What's it take for gay people to be noticed in Hollywood???
Shut up. Ok, thanks.
Brokeback Mountain was a brilliant movie. Why? Because of it's brilliant direction, brilliant screenplay, and brilliant performances. The direction and screenplay were both honored. Oh, and it was also a great movie because it was progressive and all that. That's great. Maybe I have to recheck my Swahili-Esperanto-English dictionary, but I don't think "Best Picture" translates to "Most Poignant Social Commentary" in any language. And even if it did, Crash would probably still have won.
Don't get me wrong, I was rooting for Brokeback to win just as much as the next I'm-so-gay person. It really really had a shot, too. I don't know why it didn't. Maybe it was politics, or maybe (dare I say it?) Crash was actually a better movie. I don't know, I'm ignorant about film. The point is, I'm about to go check my blog subscriptions, and I'm terrified of the outcry I anticipate hearing from my "Gay Blogs" folder. I already read one entry like that today, which is pretty much what prompted this.
So it did't win. Don't act like they crucified Gay Jesus. Everyone still recognizes that movie was amazing even without the "heavier than it looks on TV" statue sitting on the producer's mantle. The future of the gay rights movement doesn't ride on this movie's recognition. We can't take the world by one gigantic duststorm. And don't forget, the Academy doesn't share your agenda, and they don't owe you anything.
That's right, I said agenda. The Gay Agenda is real, it's just not what the assholes think.
Ok, I'm done. Now I want to talk about everyone's dresses, but I'm going to do that with my boss instead of with you guys.
But before I go, I want to encourage everyone to donate to the American Association for Cancer Research. I hear they're investigating that horrible malignant tumor on Charlize Theron's gown, and I for one would like to see a cure.
Shut up. Ok, thanks.
Brokeback Mountain was a brilliant movie. Why? Because of it's brilliant direction, brilliant screenplay, and brilliant performances. The direction and screenplay were both honored. Oh, and it was also a great movie because it was progressive and all that. That's great. Maybe I have to recheck my Swahili-Esperanto-English dictionary, but I don't think "Best Picture" translates to "Most Poignant Social Commentary" in any language. And even if it did, Crash would probably still have won.
Don't get me wrong, I was rooting for Brokeback to win just as much as the next I'm-so-gay person. It really really had a shot, too. I don't know why it didn't. Maybe it was politics, or maybe (dare I say it?) Crash was actually a better movie. I don't know, I'm ignorant about film. The point is, I'm about to go check my blog subscriptions, and I'm terrified of the outcry I anticipate hearing from my "Gay Blogs" folder. I already read one entry like that today, which is pretty much what prompted this.
So it did't win. Don't act like they crucified Gay Jesus. Everyone still recognizes that movie was amazing even without the "heavier than it looks on TV" statue sitting on the producer's mantle. The future of the gay rights movement doesn't ride on this movie's recognition. We can't take the world by one gigantic duststorm. And don't forget, the Academy doesn't share your agenda, and they don't owe you anything.
That's right, I said agenda. The Gay Agenda is real, it's just not what the assholes think.
Ok, I'm done. Now I want to talk about everyone's dresses, but I'm going to do that with my boss instead of with you guys.
But before I go, I want to encourage everyone to donate to the American Association for Cancer Research. I hear they're investigating that horrible malignant tumor on Charlize Theron's gown, and I for one would like to see a cure.
Biohazard
I'm about to share some photos. Because of the graphic nature of what you are about it see, it is suggested that you stab your eyeballs with a pokey fork before viewing.
This sink is real. My friend lives in a dorm even though he is getting his PhD. (I guess it's cheaper if you can stand it.) Between every two rooms is a bathroom with a shower, toilet, and side-by-side his and hers sinks. This is the "his", the sink belonging to my friend's suitemate.
I'm not sure what the yellowish green stuff is. I can only imagine that this guy's cousin Slimer was visiting for the weekend.
Although it goes without saying, I'm going to say it. This is really disgusting. Can people really wake up in the morning, look at their sink like this, and think "Ahhh! A fresh start to a new day!" All I can think is "Disease."
I wish I had taken a shot of the toilet before my friend cleaned it. I never saw that Eddie-Murphical abortion, but in the previews there's a scene where he's apparently looking at shit on the ceiling. I thought the physics of that were impossible, but apparently my grasp of high school science is slipping. Have you ever seen human excrement on the underside of a toilet seat? On along the outside face of the bowl? Because I have.
This is an example of what I like to call "heterotoxicity." No gay man would allow his bathroom to look like that. It's a disturbing phenomenon among college boys. Heterotoxicity makes me somewhat glad I live in a big old bubble of sanitary gay.
Although an all-gay universe would be a horrible place for anyone to live, heterotoxicity is pushing me to consider pulling out my genocide diary and making some sketches.
My heart goes out to my friend who must face this every morning. His sink is spotless. I hope you all send him your support as well. Here he is being nice to me:
Billy-Jean: i like it when you copy and paste our AIM conversations into your blog
Too Hotty: Good.
Billy-Jean: it makes me feel good
Too Hotty: Say something funny, you'll be featured again.
Billy-Jean: i really like hanging out with you.....i wish we'd've made it a point to do it more often earlier on
Too Hotty: I know. :-(
Billy-Jean: you're one of the most well-adjusted people in Bloomington...going to be impossible to find a comparable hanging-out partner
Too Hotty: that's so sweet of you to say
Billy-Jean: just being honest
Too Hotty: but it won't get you featured in my blog
This sink is real. My friend lives in a dorm even though he is getting his PhD. (I guess it's cheaper if you can stand it.) Between every two rooms is a bathroom with a shower, toilet, and side-by-side his and hers sinks. This is the "his", the sink belonging to my friend's suitemate.
I'm not sure what the yellowish green stuff is. I can only imagine that this guy's cousin Slimer was visiting for the weekend.
Although it goes without saying, I'm going to say it. This is really disgusting. Can people really wake up in the morning, look at their sink like this, and think "Ahhh! A fresh start to a new day!" All I can think is "Disease."
I wish I had taken a shot of the toilet before my friend cleaned it. I never saw that Eddie-Murphical abortion, but in the previews there's a scene where he's apparently looking at shit on the ceiling. I thought the physics of that were impossible, but apparently my grasp of high school science is slipping. Have you ever seen human excrement on the underside of a toilet seat? On along the outside face of the bowl? Because I have.
This is an example of what I like to call "heterotoxicity." No gay man would allow his bathroom to look like that. It's a disturbing phenomenon among college boys. Heterotoxicity makes me somewhat glad I live in a big old bubble of sanitary gay.
Although an all-gay universe would be a horrible place for anyone to live, heterotoxicity is pushing me to consider pulling out my genocide diary and making some sketches.
My heart goes out to my friend who must face this every morning. His sink is spotless. I hope you all send him your support as well. Here he is being nice to me:
Billy-Jean: i like it when you copy and paste our AIM conversations into your blog
Too Hotty: Good.
Billy-Jean: it makes me feel good
Too Hotty: Say something funny, you'll be featured again.
Billy-Jean: i really like hanging out with you.....i wish we'd've made it a point to do it more often earlier on
Too Hotty: I know. :-(
Billy-Jean: you're one of the most well-adjusted people in Bloomington...going to be impossible to find a comparable hanging-out partner
Too Hotty: that's so sweet of you to say
Billy-Jean: just being honest
Too Hotty: but it won't get you featured in my blog
Denied
I would like to announce that I have unsubscribed to Santino Rice's blog in my aggregator. When every post is an unprotected orgy of self-importance and vanity, it eventually stops being special.
I just thought you all should know.
I just thought you all should know.
Are you being careful?
Oh my God, my mother just made reference to me "hooking up".
Now I knew she knew. I just always assumed she had that Mother's Denial barrier up, thinking her perfect son hadn't started fucking, especially because I barely talk about guys because I never go on dates except maybe one time and then they don't call me back because they're mean and I hate them. So we've just torn down a wall and the landscape of Berlin looks quite a bit different now.
After the above snippet, we got into a conversation about my future lifemate, who she still insists be Jewish, probably more out of Jewish Mother Tradition than any other reason.
Unrelated:
Mom: then keep your phone on and with you next sundayIgnoring the fact that my mother thinks I'm too good to get with anyone blue collar, I have to admit that I'm weirded out that my mother not only acknowledges, but condones that I have sex. Gay sex. In the what? In the butt.
Me: Right, because I might be out having actual fun on a Sunday night in the Bible belt.
Mom: you never know
Mom: you might hook up with a blue collar cool car mechanic
Mom: with no teeth
Me: I kinda do know.
Me: And I won't.
Mom: hahaha
Me: Yuck.
Now I knew she knew. I just always assumed she had that Mother's Denial barrier up, thinking her perfect son hadn't started fucking, especially because I barely talk about guys because I never go on dates except maybe one time and then they don't call me back because they're mean and I hate them. So we've just torn down a wall and the landscape of Berlin looks quite a bit different now.
After the above snippet, we got into a conversation about my future lifemate, who she still insists be Jewish, probably more out of Jewish Mother Tradition than any other reason.
Mom: Jewish boys are nice.All I insist is that I never use the word "lifemate" again.
Me: So are Christian boys.
Mom: i've never met one
Unrelated:
I says: I can't wait for flip-flop season... which will be short this year because I refuse to wear them in NYC.I am chic.
Keith-friend: why?
Keith-friend: people wear flip-flops there too
I says: Because steam comes out of the sewers.
Keith-friend: eww, gross
I says: I know.
I says: I'll probably never expose any skin.
Keith-friend: how cool :-)
Keith-friend: you'll get used to the squalor... it's good for you, builds up antibodies and all that
I says: I know, it'll be great! I'll be this super-soldier immune to germ warfare.
Keith-friend: either that or you'll catch something from some dirty foreigner and your ears will fall off
Keith-friend: but you could tell people "yeah, it's the new hot thing in new york, the no-ears look"
Underworld: Evolution: Here's what I think
I saw this movie last night, and it was Underworld: Evolution. The main plot is about how hot Kate Beckinsdale is. The secondary plot is about how hot Scott Speedman is. The tertiary plot is about how great it is to watch them have fake movie sex. Finally, there were some vampires and werewolves that were pretty cool.
Underworld: Evolution is a apparently a sequel, which I didn't know going into it. Nobody told me. So it took me a really long time to figure out what the hell was going on. For half the movie, I thought the human-version of the main werewolf guy was actually the main vampire guy, so I never really knew what he was doing. They killed a lot of important people at the beginning, and I got all their names confused, so I just made a word bank in my head entitled "Names of the Bad Guys" and just listened for their names when I wanted to know if they were talking about good people or evil ones. By the end of the movie, I noticed that you could tell people were bad because they were ugly just like in real life. From then on, I pretty much knew who I was supposed to be cheering for, but I really couldn't listen to the dialogue because it would get me lost again.
I also don't know where the movie took place. At first I thought it was England, but then everyone was speaking Russian or Czech or something, so I just decided it was some exotic foreign land where it doesn't matter if the extras die because they don't speak English anyway. It was pretty convenient that over the 800 years from the beginning flashback sequence to the main movie, nobody seemed to die or move around at all, so all the big important locations and artifacts and people were within driving distance. Thank God vampires never go anywhere ever.
The vampire mythology in the movie is pretty lame. In their universe, vampires are basically just really strong people with neat eyes who drink blood instead of eat food. Oh, and they're hard to kill. But don't get out your garlic and steak (I mean stake) just yet. Apparently there's no special way to kill a vampire, you just have to kill them more than regular people. You might have to sever an extra limb or impale them on a bit thicker a post in order to make sure they won't get up again. It's kind of a crap shoot in that respect. Here's an excerpt from the dialogue to illustrate this difficulty:
Kate Beckinsdale: "Is he dead?"
Scott Speedman: "I'm not sure. Did you shoot him enough times in the face?"
Kate Beckinsdale: "Yes, my automatic weapon fired about 15 bullets. We modern vampires enjoy automatic weapons. Thankfully the bad guys have not yet thought of this."
Scott Speedman: "Still, I think I saw his hand move. Perhaps you should punch him through the chest to make sure."
Kate Beckinsdale: "Very well. I say, this is rather tiresome."
And I think the producers of the movie forgot that people have bones. I guess it's a pretty common oversight. Not only are we boneless, however, but we are apparently made completely out of some bizarre colloid skin layer filled with not organs, but rather chocolate chunks and raspberry sauce. According to the movie, if you hit someone hard enough in the head, instead of the momentum of your hand (or wing extension) causing their head to be bashed to the side, they will instead remain perfectly still as if their neck is made of a steel rod. As a result, the colloid skin layer gives way, and the victim's interior deliciousness is merely brushed away in a clean line as if off a table. I love physics and biology.
My favorite parts were the sex scene, the outrageous violence, and the scene where there's a historian having a hot vampire orgy because I pretended he was a librarian instead and even though he was ugly, it make me think I could have a vampire orgy one day too. My least favorite parts were seeing the hand run through with a spike, the exploding head, and seeing the guy barf up potatoes.
If you like violence, see Underworld: Evolution. It doesn't have much going for it in terms of adding any value to the fantasy genre, but it has a lot of that lowest-common-denominator type of appeal. So that was pretty cool. I'd have liked it more if I were more masculine, so maybe I'll work on that for next time.
Entertainment value: 11 stars
Actual value: 2 stars
Underworld: Evolution is a apparently a sequel, which I didn't know going into it. Nobody told me. So it took me a really long time to figure out what the hell was going on. For half the movie, I thought the human-version of the main werewolf guy was actually the main vampire guy, so I never really knew what he was doing. They killed a lot of important people at the beginning, and I got all their names confused, so I just made a word bank in my head entitled "Names of the Bad Guys" and just listened for their names when I wanted to know if they were talking about good people or evil ones. By the end of the movie, I noticed that you could tell people were bad because they were ugly just like in real life. From then on, I pretty much knew who I was supposed to be cheering for, but I really couldn't listen to the dialogue because it would get me lost again.
I also don't know where the movie took place. At first I thought it was England, but then everyone was speaking Russian or Czech or something, so I just decided it was some exotic foreign land where it doesn't matter if the extras die because they don't speak English anyway. It was pretty convenient that over the 800 years from the beginning flashback sequence to the main movie, nobody seemed to die or move around at all, so all the big important locations and artifacts and people were within driving distance. Thank God vampires never go anywhere ever.
The vampire mythology in the movie is pretty lame. In their universe, vampires are basically just really strong people with neat eyes who drink blood instead of eat food. Oh, and they're hard to kill. But don't get out your garlic and steak (I mean stake) just yet. Apparently there's no special way to kill a vampire, you just have to kill them more than regular people. You might have to sever an extra limb or impale them on a bit thicker a post in order to make sure they won't get up again. It's kind of a crap shoot in that respect. Here's an excerpt from the dialogue to illustrate this difficulty:
Kate Beckinsdale: "Is he dead?"
Scott Speedman: "I'm not sure. Did you shoot him enough times in the face?"
Kate Beckinsdale: "Yes, my automatic weapon fired about 15 bullets. We modern vampires enjoy automatic weapons. Thankfully the bad guys have not yet thought of this."
Scott Speedman: "Still, I think I saw his hand move. Perhaps you should punch him through the chest to make sure."
Kate Beckinsdale: "Very well. I say, this is rather tiresome."
And I think the producers of the movie forgot that people have bones. I guess it's a pretty common oversight. Not only are we boneless, however, but we are apparently made completely out of some bizarre colloid skin layer filled with not organs, but rather chocolate chunks and raspberry sauce. According to the movie, if you hit someone hard enough in the head, instead of the momentum of your hand (or wing extension) causing their head to be bashed to the side, they will instead remain perfectly still as if their neck is made of a steel rod. As a result, the colloid skin layer gives way, and the victim's interior deliciousness is merely brushed away in a clean line as if off a table. I love physics and biology.
My favorite parts were the sex scene, the outrageous violence, and the scene where there's a historian having a hot vampire orgy because I pretended he was a librarian instead and even though he was ugly, it make me think I could have a vampire orgy one day too. My least favorite parts were seeing the hand run through with a spike, the exploding head, and seeing the guy barf up potatoes.
If you like violence, see Underworld: Evolution. It doesn't have much going for it in terms of adding any value to the fantasy genre, but it has a lot of that lowest-common-denominator type of appeal. So that was pretty cool. I'd have liked it more if I were more masculine, so maybe I'll work on that for next time.
Entertainment value: 11 stars
Actual value: 2 stars
Italy loses points
In honor of not posting in a week, I'm going to provide a link to an article a week old because I only found it today, and it really pisses me off.
Italian court: Not a virgin? Sex crimes not as serious
Whether or not you agree, I'm sure it's fairly clear why this is repugnant to me. The effects of sexual assault on a person are absolutely not related to any previous attitude towards or experience with sex. This ridiculous ruling is akin to the "She was dressed like a slut, she had it coming" defense.
So apparently, raping a virgin is abominable, and you'll be punished to the fullest extent of the law. But raping a non-virgin is just kinda rude, but whatever, they'll be fine, here have a slap on the wrist and remember that next time you assault someone, just make sure she's had sex before.
The intent is the same. Sex offenders are sick, and to say that one gets to walk free after a couple years just because his victim happened to have had sex like most people eventually will doesn't even make sense. I mean there's no logical basis to it. I'm sure this freak really took that into consideration. "Hmmm, I wish to commit a crime. I'd better find a victim with experience so they don't feel so bad about being violated."
Rape is devestating to anyone regardless of gender, orientation, sexual proclivity, and all of those other little factors people like to use to make people sound different. This ruling is a smack in the face to everyone who has gone through what this poor 14-year-old and countless other people have. Nobody has the right to undermine anyone's feelings about an experience like that.
This court has effectively told thousands of sexual assault victims to "get over it" on top of vindicating the actions of thousands of offenders. This ruling is ignorant and offensive. Shame on you. How dare you? We can't just get over it. It hurts the same no matter what's in your past. Don't pretend like you know the first thing about it.
Italian court: Not a virgin? Sex crimes not as serious
Whether or not you agree, I'm sure it's fairly clear why this is repugnant to me. The effects of sexual assault on a person are absolutely not related to any previous attitude towards or experience with sex. This ridiculous ruling is akin to the "She was dressed like a slut, she had it coming" defense.
So apparently, raping a virgin is abominable, and you'll be punished to the fullest extent of the law. But raping a non-virgin is just kinda rude, but whatever, they'll be fine, here have a slap on the wrist and remember that next time you assault someone, just make sure she's had sex before.
The intent is the same. Sex offenders are sick, and to say that one gets to walk free after a couple years just because his victim happened to have had sex like most people eventually will doesn't even make sense. I mean there's no logical basis to it. I'm sure this freak really took that into consideration. "Hmmm, I wish to commit a crime. I'd better find a victim with experience so they don't feel so bad about being violated."
Rape is devestating to anyone regardless of gender, orientation, sexual proclivity, and all of those other little factors people like to use to make people sound different. This ruling is a smack in the face to everyone who has gone through what this poor 14-year-old and countless other people have. Nobody has the right to undermine anyone's feelings about an experience like that.
This court has effectively told thousands of sexual assault victims to "get over it" on top of vindicating the actions of thousands of offenders. This ruling is ignorant and offensive. Shame on you. How dare you? We can't just get over it. It hurts the same no matter what's in your past. Don't pretend like you know the first thing about it.
You can't have it all, ok?
Whizzy: Changing the way America pees.
Now really. If you're nervous about sitting in a disgusting portable bathroom, then just don't go camping in the first place. Stay home. If you want to become one with nature, prepare to have it be disgusting. Nature sucks and that's what you get.
Now really. If you're nervous about sitting in a disgusting portable bathroom, then just don't go camping in the first place. Stay home. If you want to become one with nature, prepare to have it be disgusting. Nature sucks and that's what you get.
There's not a lot to say
Today my salad had so much thousand island dressing on it that it tasted like a Big Mac. It was pretty gross.
Too Hotty (that's me): Hi, sorry. I had to run away on a little mission.
Keith-Friend: no worries, you're at work
Keith-Friend: we can't all sit at home in our underwear watching Days of Our Lives :-)
Too Hotty: :-) Hey, no fair.
Keith-Friend: well, I'm working all weekend, so it's a trade-off
Keith-Friend: besides, now it's Passions, and I don't like that show anymore
Too Hotty: That show has sucked ever since Timmy died.
Keith-Friend: totally!
Keith-Friend: one time I saw they had an orangutan on there, but it's just not the same
Too Hotty: Hey, an orangutan? A monkey can make anything entertaining.
Keith-Friend: but not as much as a midget
Keith-Friend: midget trumps monkey every time
Keith-Friend: and they already used their midget, so the monkey is lame
Billy is cool: i just read ur comment on James's blog....everytime i see 'slis' it makes me think 'slit' which makes me think 'vagina'
Too Hotty: Well that's your weirdo mind. I makes me think of cheese.
Too Hotty (that's me): Hi, sorry. I had to run away on a little mission.
Keith-Friend: no worries, you're at work
Keith-Friend: we can't all sit at home in our underwear watching Days of Our Lives :-)
Too Hotty: :-) Hey, no fair.
Keith-Friend: well, I'm working all weekend, so it's a trade-off
Keith-Friend: besides, now it's Passions, and I don't like that show anymore
Too Hotty: That show has sucked ever since Timmy died.
Keith-Friend: totally!
Keith-Friend: one time I saw they had an orangutan on there, but it's just not the same
Too Hotty: Hey, an orangutan? A monkey can make anything entertaining.
Keith-Friend: but not as much as a midget
Keith-Friend: midget trumps monkey every time
Keith-Friend: and they already used their midget, so the monkey is lame
Billy is cool: i just read ur comment on James's blog....everytime i see 'slis' it makes me think 'slit' which makes me think 'vagina'
Too Hotty: Well that's your weirdo mind. I makes me think of cheese.
Muffins
I cannot finish a muffin. I don't know why, but I have never in my life eaten an entire muffin. I have eaten two muffins this week, and both of them have portions living up the landfill life right now.
Somehow, muffins are the only things I fail to finish. It's not distaste, it's not blandness. I finish huge bagels, boring scones, even rice cakes (though never by choice). I can eat gigantor brownies, cookie cakes, and even entire pizzas!
But I cannot finish a muffin.
(I just reread what I wrote above, and I realized it reads like a children's book.)
But what the hell is going on? I mean, when I say I can eat an entire pizza, what I really mean is last week, I ate an entire pizza, a stack of saltines, and some hummus and pita for ONE meal. You're telling me that three days later after skipping dinner for a night, I can't wake up and eat a fucking muffin?
I feel like less than a man. Muffins are pussy food. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if muffin is a euphemism for pussy! Actually, that would perhaps be a good metaphysical explanation for why I can't eat one...
Somehow, muffins are the only things I fail to finish. It's not distaste, it's not blandness. I finish huge bagels, boring scones, even rice cakes (though never by choice). I can eat gigantor brownies, cookie cakes, and even entire pizzas!
But I cannot finish a muffin.
(I just reread what I wrote above, and I realized it reads like a children's book.)
But what the hell is going on? I mean, when I say I can eat an entire pizza, what I really mean is last week, I ate an entire pizza, a stack of saltines, and some hummus and pita for ONE meal. You're telling me that three days later after skipping dinner for a night, I can't wake up and eat a fucking muffin?
I feel like less than a man. Muffins are pussy food. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if muffin is a euphemism for pussy! Actually, that would perhaps be a good metaphysical explanation for why I can't eat one...
True as it can be
I said: Johnny Weir is weird looking.
I said: He should be named Johnny Weird-Looking.
And Chris is like: :-D
And Chris is like: you are so bright
And Chris is like: i have to get ready for workity while i listen to the fairy queen
And Chris is like: <3 <3
I said:: :-) Ok, have a good day!
And Chris is like: talk about gay
I said: Figure skating is my favorite, though.
And Chris is like: i know me too
And Chris is like: i like to watch them fall
And Chris is like: espesh michelle kwan
I said: She never falls! Michelle Kwan is the champion!
I said: Sarah Hughes can fall, that bitch.
I said: And Tara Lipinsky.
And Chris is like: !!!!!
And Chris is like: I LOVE SARAH!@
And Chris is like: michelle kwan fell last olympics
And Chris is like: that's why she can never get the gold
And Chris is like: and now she's too old
And Chris is like: she's like 20
And Chris is like: so she has to retire
And Chris is like: :)
I said: I thought they just go pro.
I said: But when they do that, who pays them?
I said: I mean, why would you hire a figure skater?
I said: Do they do like bat mitzvahs and stuff?
And Chris is like: hahaha
And Chris is like: yes
And Chris is like: they do beauty and the beast on ice
I said: How degrading.
I said: That's like you doing Beauty and the Beast on Broadway.
I said: Beauty and the Beast is the end of everyone's career.
And Chris is like: haha
And Chris is like: like kim possible girl
And Chris is like: ok bye
I said: He should be named Johnny Weird-Looking.
And Chris is like: :-D
And Chris is like: you are so bright
And Chris is like: i have to get ready for workity while i listen to the fairy queen
And Chris is like: <3 <3
I said:: :-) Ok, have a good day!
And Chris is like: talk about gay
I said: Figure skating is my favorite, though.
And Chris is like: i know me too
And Chris is like: i like to watch them fall
And Chris is like: espesh michelle kwan
I said: She never falls! Michelle Kwan is the champion!
I said: Sarah Hughes can fall, that bitch.
I said: And Tara Lipinsky.
And Chris is like: !!!!!
And Chris is like: I LOVE SARAH!@
And Chris is like: michelle kwan fell last olympics
And Chris is like: that's why she can never get the gold
And Chris is like: and now she's too old
And Chris is like: she's like 20
And Chris is like: so she has to retire
And Chris is like: :)
I said: I thought they just go pro.
I said: But when they do that, who pays them?
I said: I mean, why would you hire a figure skater?
I said: Do they do like bat mitzvahs and stuff?
And Chris is like: hahaha
And Chris is like: yes
And Chris is like: they do beauty and the beast on ice
I said: How degrading.
I said: That's like you doing Beauty and the Beast on Broadway.
I said: Beauty and the Beast is the end of everyone's career.
And Chris is like: haha
And Chris is like: like kim possible girl
And Chris is like: ok bye
V-Day the right way
[Cue Peer Gynt, Morning Mood]
Ah, spring! No, I mean... Ah, Valentine's Day! It's the one special day every year where you show your friends, family, and especially lovers that they're oh so special and unique and irreplacable. Every February 14th, we buy candy and flowers and we make reservations and we kiss and bat our eyelashes and go that extra step to remind our beloveds that they are indeed beloved.
Oh, and don't you skimp! For some, fagging out on Valentine's Day is akin to forgetting an anniversary and nailing a dead bunny to your lover's forehead. Unforgivable.
But doesn't that all make Valentine's Day kinda pointless? I mean, for all the preparation and money and affection, all you're giving is what is expected when it's expected. Any other day of the year, the very same gestures mean so much more because there is no Hallmark reason to perform. Taking your love to dinner on Valentine's Day is like passing her the remote when she asks you to change the channel. Sure it's a nice gesture and you didn't have to do it... but really, who the fuck cares? That's why I am proposing a new theme for V-Day, more appropriate to that shortened moniker.
My version of V-Day is like Relationship Judgment Day (or Relationship Qiyamah for any Muslims in the house). It's not a day to blindly affirm your relationship, but rather to seriously evaluate it. Are you happy? Are you fulfilled? Do you really love this person? Why or why not? If yes, that's great! Buy yourself a smoothie! If not, then V-Day is your one chance to finally be honest with yourself and get out with no argument and no hard feelings. The theme of V-Day is "no harm, no foul".
The beauty of this system is that all year people will be treating each other extra special in anticipation of that one fateful day when their partner can decide it's not worth pursuing. Also, on V-Day if a couple is truly to stay together (as most couples will anyway), they get a chance to reaffirm why they're so in love, not through little gestures like flowers and gifts, but through honest language. They will share what they've reflected on and sort of renew their vows for another beautiful, loving year.
Nothing will ever be expected, so everything will have meaning. V-Day may be an ugly day for some people, but it already is for those single folks who can't get past the bitterness. In my world, single people wouldn't give a shit about V-Day. And for so many others in serious relationships, it will make the entire year a chance to celebrate their love.
Ah, spring! No, I mean... Ah, Valentine's Day! It's the one special day every year where you show your friends, family, and especially lovers that they're oh so special and unique and irreplacable. Every February 14th, we buy candy and flowers and we make reservations and we kiss and bat our eyelashes and go that extra step to remind our beloveds that they are indeed beloved.
Oh, and don't you skimp! For some, fagging out on Valentine's Day is akin to forgetting an anniversary and nailing a dead bunny to your lover's forehead. Unforgivable.
But doesn't that all make Valentine's Day kinda pointless? I mean, for all the preparation and money and affection, all you're giving is what is expected when it's expected. Any other day of the year, the very same gestures mean so much more because there is no Hallmark reason to perform. Taking your love to dinner on Valentine's Day is like passing her the remote when she asks you to change the channel. Sure it's a nice gesture and you didn't have to do it... but really, who the fuck cares? That's why I am proposing a new theme for V-Day, more appropriate to that shortened moniker.
My version of V-Day is like Relationship Judgment Day (or Relationship Qiyamah for any Muslims in the house). It's not a day to blindly affirm your relationship, but rather to seriously evaluate it. Are you happy? Are you fulfilled? Do you really love this person? Why or why not? If yes, that's great! Buy yourself a smoothie! If not, then V-Day is your one chance to finally be honest with yourself and get out with no argument and no hard feelings. The theme of V-Day is "no harm, no foul".
The beauty of this system is that all year people will be treating each other extra special in anticipation of that one fateful day when their partner can decide it's not worth pursuing. Also, on V-Day if a couple is truly to stay together (as most couples will anyway), they get a chance to reaffirm why they're so in love, not through little gestures like flowers and gifts, but through honest language. They will share what they've reflected on and sort of renew their vows for another beautiful, loving year.
Nothing will ever be expected, so everything will have meaning. V-Day may be an ugly day for some people, but it already is for those single folks who can't get past the bitterness. In my world, single people wouldn't give a shit about V-Day. And for so many others in serious relationships, it will make the entire year a chance to celebrate their love.
It only takes two muscles
Don't type "lol" after things that are not funny. For example, if I ask you what you are doing, do not respond with "eating cereal lol." In fact, I'd prefer you did not type "lol" at all, but since it is such an established institution in this crazy galaxy we call cyberspace, I suppose we must all make allowances. If a legitimate cause for expressing laughter arises (as not exemplified above), however, I should like to recommend the following alternative:
The emoticon.
While potentially just another overused Internet device plaguing otherwise respectable communication forums such as instant messenger, livejournal, and Harry Potter message boards, the emoticon conveys any of numerous subtle emotions on which exclusive lol- and rofl-users miss out. Happy, sad, confused, enigmatic, embarassed, whatever mood or tone you wish to attach to your words, there is an emoticon just for you!
Emoticons do more than convey emotions. Oh yes! They transform your computer screen into a virtual looking glass through which you can simulate one-on-one interaction. Body language without the body! It is the 21st-century version of "Her lips say no, but her eyes say yes." The astute emoticon user can fully eliminate that new-age old problem of mixed messages as a result of your chat partner reading your words in the incorrect tone of voice. "No, that was a joke." "What are you talking about, I'm trying to be serious here!" "No, see, that was my sarcastic voice." These are statements of the past.
Most importantly, emoticons are honest... well, as honest as a face, at least. Yes, emoticons can still lie, but that's just part of how we communicate. Sometimes you just gotta slap on a smile and care about yet another story involving the superlative intelligence of your coworker's baby. "Awesome, he's so young to know his alphabet! They'd better save him a spot at Harvard! :-D"
Actually, that was sarcasm. Your baby's not going to Harvard. The emoticon lies. But even the intentional subtle deception of a wisely-used emoticon is nothing compared to the audacious hyperbole of "lol", "rofl", and the dreaded Roffle Mao. If I make a little joke or share a cute play on words, don't you dare claim to be rolling on the floor laughing your ass off (roflmao) because you know and I know that you're full of shit. Perhaps you smiled. Maybe you even eked out a little chuckle, but if you seriously fell out of your chair and are now lying prone on the floor in fits of hysteria, you a) have obviously never been introduced to the concept of humor and b) have some mad typing skills. Last time I was rolling on the floor in tears from laughter, I was unable to find the "roflmao" button on my keyboard.
Emoticons. Learn them, use them, wear them out. The come in all forms: standard, anime, little yellow faces. They will enhance your online communication experience, and more importantly, you won't sound to all your friends like some sort of mental patient spending the morning with his hilaaaaarious corn flakes.
The emoticon.
While potentially just another overused Internet device plaguing otherwise respectable communication forums such as instant messenger, livejournal, and Harry Potter message boards, the emoticon conveys any of numerous subtle emotions on which exclusive lol- and rofl-users miss out. Happy, sad, confused, enigmatic, embarassed, whatever mood or tone you wish to attach to your words, there is an emoticon just for you!
Emoticons do more than convey emotions. Oh yes! They transform your computer screen into a virtual looking glass through which you can simulate one-on-one interaction. Body language without the body! It is the 21st-century version of "Her lips say no, but her eyes say yes." The astute emoticon user can fully eliminate that new-age old problem of mixed messages as a result of your chat partner reading your words in the incorrect tone of voice. "No, that was a joke." "What are you talking about, I'm trying to be serious here!" "No, see, that was my sarcastic voice." These are statements of the past.
Most importantly, emoticons are honest... well, as honest as a face, at least. Yes, emoticons can still lie, but that's just part of how we communicate. Sometimes you just gotta slap on a smile and care about yet another story involving the superlative intelligence of your coworker's baby. "Awesome, he's so young to know his alphabet! They'd better save him a spot at Harvard! :-D"
Actually, that was sarcasm. Your baby's not going to Harvard. The emoticon lies. But even the intentional subtle deception of a wisely-used emoticon is nothing compared to the audacious hyperbole of "lol", "rofl", and the dreaded Roffle Mao. If I make a little joke or share a cute play on words, don't you dare claim to be rolling on the floor laughing your ass off (roflmao) because you know and I know that you're full of shit. Perhaps you smiled. Maybe you even eked out a little chuckle, but if you seriously fell out of your chair and are now lying prone on the floor in fits of hysteria, you a) have obviously never been introduced to the concept of humor and b) have some mad typing skills. Last time I was rolling on the floor in tears from laughter, I was unable to find the "roflmao" button on my keyboard.
Emoticons. Learn them, use them, wear them out. The come in all forms: standard, anime, little yellow faces. They will enhance your online communication experience, and more importantly, you won't sound to all your friends like some sort of mental patient spending the morning with his hilaaaaarious corn flakes.
Apartment hunting
I says: Ugh! This guy has a lovely apartment in Chinatown for less than a grand a month with a good-sized bedroom for me, but he only wants ASIAN roommates!
I says: Who wants ASIAN roommates???
And he's like: in Chinatown?
I says: Yeah.
And he's like: everyone
I says: Just because it SAYS China doesn't mean you have to be FROM China.
I says: I mean, we live in Indiana, but we're not INDIANS!
And he's like: have you been to Chinatown
I says: No, I hate China.
And he's like: it is very Asian
And he's like: most people don't speak English
I says: Yeah, I don't think this guy's is very good.
I says: If there is no stove, the first thing in the headline of the ad should be "No stove, ok?"
I says: Not in the middle when you pretend how hotplates are so cool.
And he's like: dude, when was the last time you used a stove?
I says: Who wants ASIAN roommates???
And he's like: in Chinatown?
I says: Yeah.
And he's like: everyone
I says: Just because it SAYS China doesn't mean you have to be FROM China.
I says: I mean, we live in Indiana, but we're not INDIANS!
And he's like: have you been to Chinatown
I says: No, I hate China.
And he's like: it is very Asian
And he's like: most people don't speak English
I says: Yeah, I don't think this guy's is very good.
I says: If there is no stove, the first thing in the headline of the ad should be "No stove, ok?"
I says: Not in the middle when you pretend how hotplates are so cool.
And he's like: dude, when was the last time you used a stove?
Poor, unfortunate souls
This week's Lil Depressed Boy actually made me kinda wanna sorta cry. The strip is always sad (and often very pretty), but this one really upset me, and now I need a peppermint mocha to put me in a good mood again.
Everyone knows what it's like when the world does something really crappy to you at the perfect moment when you're already having a magnificently crappy day or week or month or life and all you want to do is enjoy one thing and pretend it isn't horrible for one second. It leaves you with nothing, and you feel like there is nothing left. You can't even savor your last moment of joy because it already passed a long time ago.
Those are the times I believe in a higher power. Maybe it's the need for something to blame, but I can't help but feel that during times like that, Something is pulling the strings and smiling in that sickening way. I imagine God looks a lot like this.
The reason this particular issue of Lil Depressed Boy struck me so hard was because I had a day like that about a week ago. I was having a serious sadness problem, and everywhere I turned for something uplifting, there was Ursula making merry with my emotions. It felt like everything I had was gone and I'd never be happy again. I felt like I was going to cry at work and left early.
Oh, I'm not depressed or anything. I got over it. But seeing Lil Depressed Boy get his sunrise ruined made me remember all the bad, and for a minute, it tried to creep into my head again saying "Ooooooooh! We never really went away!"
But I'm not letting that happen today, no sir! Today, I'm steering the broken mast of my ship right into the fleshy gut of that made up higher power and striking her down with my lightning bolts made of pepperminty, caffeiney mocha-goodness! My ship is called the S.S. I-Am-Totally-Moving-to-New-York-and-Starting-a-New-Life. My mocha is called Suzanne.
In completely unrelated news, I changed my display name to a different nickname that is not an inside joke with one person nobody knows who I haven't talked to in 3 years. This is the last time I'll change it, I promise. I know how it irks you so. I'm sorry if you lose sleep tonight.
Everyone knows what it's like when the world does something really crappy to you at the perfect moment when you're already having a magnificently crappy day or week or month or life and all you want to do is enjoy one thing and pretend it isn't horrible for one second. It leaves you with nothing, and you feel like there is nothing left. You can't even savor your last moment of joy because it already passed a long time ago.
Those are the times I believe in a higher power. Maybe it's the need for something to blame, but I can't help but feel that during times like that, Something is pulling the strings and smiling in that sickening way. I imagine God looks a lot like this.
The reason this particular issue of Lil Depressed Boy struck me so hard was because I had a day like that about a week ago. I was having a serious sadness problem, and everywhere I turned for something uplifting, there was Ursula making merry with my emotions. It felt like everything I had was gone and I'd never be happy again. I felt like I was going to cry at work and left early.
Oh, I'm not depressed or anything. I got over it. But seeing Lil Depressed Boy get his sunrise ruined made me remember all the bad, and for a minute, it tried to creep into my head again saying "Ooooooooh! We never really went away!"
But I'm not letting that happen today, no sir! Today, I'm steering the broken mast of my ship right into the fleshy gut of that made up higher power and striking her down with my lightning bolts made of pepperminty, caffeiney mocha-goodness! My ship is called the S.S. I-Am-Totally-Moving-to-New-York-and-Starting-a-New-Life. My mocha is called Suzanne.
In completely unrelated news, I changed my display name to a different nickname that is not an inside joke with one person nobody knows who I haven't talked to in 3 years. This is the last time I'll change it, I promise. I know how it irks you so. I'm sorry if you lose sleep tonight.
If cats can be trained to use the toilet...
For about four months now I've been fighting the urge to pee in my cats' litter box.
Has anybody ever done this? Does it work? I have a feeling trying it for myself would be a mistake, so I'm curious about your experience.
Has anybody ever done this? Does it work? I have a feeling trying it for myself would be a mistake, so I'm curious about your experience.
I can't believe how February it is
It's that time of year again. I need a valentine. It's extremely important and the source of much stress. Last year, after searching real hard with no success, I expressed my sadness and lameness in my livejournal and got a last-minute valentine who I had never met. It was true love.
This year, we'll build on that success. I'm starting early. I want to see how many valentines I can get.
To review, let's look at that fateful livejournal entry from last year. Here it is. Check out cello_excel_o's comments on the bottom. He is Hayden, and he was my valentine.
I actually e-mailed him and we became friendly, though now we haven't talked in a good long while. Best valentine ever.
Please be my valentine! Apply by leaving a comment or e-mailing me or something. Here's the criteria you must meet:
1. Must be male. I know, that excludes half of everyone. I may except female valentines, but they will not count towards my modest goal of 3. (Gay or bisexual males preferred, but not required... y'know, so we match.)
2. I'd prefer to not know you. Valentine's Day is not about sympathy valentines from your friends. It's also not about love. Not this year. This year, Valentine's Day is about me getting attention from strangers like that boy with the gorgeous black eyes at the airport yesterday. Sure, the attention was probably "What are you staring at?" but at least I got it, and more importantly, you didn't.
3. You can't have a boyfriend. That counts as a sympathy valentine because you have a real valentine waiting to wine and dine you on the 14th (which sucks as a Tuesday this year.) I only want valentines that want me alone, which brings me to number
4. I must be your only valentine even though you will hopefully not be my only valentine. Sound unfair? Life is unfair.
5. You can't be my mom, ok Mom? Not only would that violate all of the rules listed above, but it would be totally lame. No offense, but unless you're ditching your Vegas vacation to visit me with a bottle of wine, a bag of Dove Promises, and a Molly Ringwald movie on V-Day, I don't need a Mom-valentine.
6. Hotness, intelligence, musicianship skills prefered but not required. Cellists, tortured writers, and soccer stars given first priority. All others must wait in the queue marked "Our careers are not sexy."
Let the applications roll in. :-
Hayden, if you're reading this, I want to be your valentine again. No need to apply. Just check yes or no and please let it be yes.
(x-posted in my livejournal, and probably my myspace blog even though I've never used that before)
This year, we'll build on that success. I'm starting early. I want to see how many valentines I can get.
To review, let's look at that fateful livejournal entry from last year. Here it is. Check out cello_excel_o's comments on the bottom. He is Hayden, and he was my valentine.
I actually e-mailed him and we became friendly, though now we haven't talked in a good long while. Best valentine ever.
Please be my valentine! Apply by leaving a comment or e-mailing me or something. Here's the criteria you must meet:
1. Must be male. I know, that excludes half of everyone. I may except female valentines, but they will not count towards my modest goal of 3. (Gay or bisexual males preferred, but not required... y'know, so we match.)
2. I'd prefer to not know you. Valentine's Day is not about sympathy valentines from your friends. It's also not about love. Not this year. This year, Valentine's Day is about me getting attention from strangers like that boy with the gorgeous black eyes at the airport yesterday. Sure, the attention was probably "What are you staring at?" but at least I got it, and more importantly, you didn't.
3. You can't have a boyfriend. That counts as a sympathy valentine because you have a real valentine waiting to wine and dine you on the 14th (which sucks as a Tuesday this year.) I only want valentines that want me alone, which brings me to number
4. I must be your only valentine even though you will hopefully not be my only valentine. Sound unfair? Life is unfair.
5. You can't be my mom, ok Mom? Not only would that violate all of the rules listed above, but it would be totally lame. No offense, but unless you're ditching your Vegas vacation to visit me with a bottle of wine, a bag of Dove Promises, and a Molly Ringwald movie on V-Day, I don't need a Mom-valentine.
6. Hotness, intelligence, musicianship skills prefered but not required. Cellists, tortured writers, and soccer stars given first priority. All others must wait in the queue marked "Our careers are not sexy."
Let the applications roll in. :-
Hayden, if you're reading this, I want to be your valentine again. No need to apply. Just check yes or no and please let it be yes.
(x-posted in my livejournal, and probably my myspace blog even though I've never used that before)
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