Rant #3

One of my pet peeves is the fact that a lot of people are unable to drive and/or park their cars. Why is this, I ask myself.

Are you brain dead? Surely not, or else someone would be harvesting your organs right about now.

Are you doing something you should not be doing while driving? Possibly, I have actually heard some outrageous stories about people making whoopie while driving. How? Um...seriously, I have no idea.

Are you texting while driving? Well, since people generally have no respect for the law or police officers, this is also probable.

Are you just an idiot and don't care about anything/anyone around you save yourself? DINGDINGDING, I believe we have a winner!

Now, while I have many stories to enlighten you with concerning terrible drivers, I've decided to go with terrible parkers. At the moment, I live in a house where there are four other people who drive. Now we (ie. me and my friend) figured out a system wherein no one has to move another car in order to get out. This system was brought up twice by me, but it took someone else to say it for them to agree and say it was a great idea:

Me: You know, if we park like *explains layout* we wouldn't be blocking anyone.
Person 1: Yea...
Me: later I was just telling Person 1 that if we park like *explains layout* we wouldn't be blocking anyone.
Person 2: Yea...ok
Person 3: Later You know, if we park like *explains layout* we wouldn't be blocking anyone.
Person 2: Wow, yea! That's a great idea! You set that up!
Me: Seriously?

A few weeks go by and the system seems to work. I consistently park at the very rear because one person gets 1 in (no exaggeration) away from my bumper and I'm pretty sure he's actually nicked it. Also, I seem to be the only person who KNOWS how to park close to the end of the driveway.

This week, however, I find myself near the house, rather than the road. I seem to have done a decent job parking and I expect if anyone were to disagree they would actually ask me if I could move. At one point, one person is in an extremely dicey location near my car. Then, tonight I DISCOVER PAINT TRANSFER AND A COUPLE NICKS ON THE SIDE OF MY CAR!!! BAHHHHHHHHH!!! I HAD A LEGALLY BLIND GEOMETRY TEACHER AND SHE COULD PARK BETTER THAN YOU CAN!!!! Ugh! I love my car to a great degree and I hate how it is always the stupid people who don't care about anything that mess your things up. If you could see this person's car, you would know what I'm talking about.

So now I'm trying to come up with a good way to bring it up to this person so as not to sound confrontation but still let them know that they need to be careful. It's the beginning of the school year and I have to continue living her for 8 months so I am also scared that it's going to create a schism. But, I don't really socialize with these people anyway and I really do care what you do to my car!

In anger,
~S

Rant #2

It is actually really quite sad that in today's society certain words have been twisted to mean something completely different than its original definition (take a look back at "Ode to a Douche" for one such example). Some words have obtained such a bad connotation that one cannot even dare using it without a fear of reprimand. One such word is "queer."

Queer - adj. meaning strange or odd

I have been reading a few classical novels and the word "queer" sometimes appears. Of course this means "strange" not "playing for the home team," but still, sometimes I have to do a quick ponder and realize that yes, they do mean "strange." I have often wanted to use the word "queer" but fear that I cannot because people either laugh thinking you mean the other thing, or they stare at you like you're being insulting.

Ex. I happen to be in the office with Blanche and Barney. I am told that the copier can handle card stock sheets only one at a time. As I thought this was going to eat up a lot of my time and happened to be an odd fact about the copier, I replied, "How queer!" Blanche began laughing and looked back at me. She quickly turned around once she realized that I wasn't joking.

It seems the only person I can use "queer" around is my mother, as she would not jump to conclusions and think I was talking about a particular species of humans. Why, even on campus there happens to be a club for "Queers and Lesbians." *sigh* I guess I'll just have to keep using "odd" as a replacement. Please don't take that away from me!

Sign my petition to save the word "queer,"
~S

Day 18: "Has boobs, reads comics"

Since I recently became a "follower" of the aptly named blog "Has boobs, reads comics," I would just like to give major props to the Nerdy Bird. FINALLY we have a girl breaking the mold of what comic nerds are (ie. boys). What's more? She actually has a wide circle of fans and followers. Perhaps now we XX chromosome-carrying people will not be summarily dismissed as having zero knowledge on a comic-subject.

It's not a secret to many of my friends that I am on a Spider-man podcast. The token girl, as it were. Of the six people on the show, I alone am the only girl. Sadly, this ratio does not even hold up once you leave the podcast and travel to the message board. I could most likely count the number of girls on the site on both of my hands...actually, maybe all I need is one hand with six fingers...

But why are there not more girls in the comic world? Is it the art form itself? Please, we all grew up with picture books! Ok then, is it the subject matter? Mmm, possibly, but there are some great comics out there like Spider-man Loves Mary Jane that does not involve out and out fighting, but is more centralized around a female character and her trials. What's wrong with that? Could it be, then, the fact that the majority of comic writers are male and do not know how to write a female character? Well, frankly, this is quite true. However, there are a few exceptions, notably Ed Brubaker's Sharon Carter and Chuck Dixon's Birds of Prey, plus a handful of others.

Actually, I think it comes down to one thing: girl's (to guys) are just not comic book readers. They will just never fit the stereotype of a fanboy...in his mother's basement..."whacking-off" to Elektra. Hmmm, yea, actually, I'm pretty sure neither I, nor the Nerdy Bird can fit that stereotype. In fact, there are three categories in which female comic readers fall (all of which I have been involved in).

1. Eyecandy: That's right! How exciting is it to go to a comic convention and be gawked at? I certainly enjoy it! It's actually rather unnerving to be looking for comics and feeling guys undress you with their eyes...*shiver*

2. Only reads girl comics:
Comic seller: I bet your favorite character is Wonder Woman!
Me: No, actually, it's Spider-man!

Really though? Girls do not only read Wonder Woman! In fact, I haven't touched Wonder Woman since that terrible Jodi Piccoult arc! *sigh* Oh, Jodi Piccoult...I had such faith in you and all you gave me was a bad taste in my mouth!

3. Girl's don't know their way around comic shops: I actually need a GPS in a comic shop...SERIOUSLY? I go to my hometown LCS (local comic shop) and the female (I know, right?) proprietor who knows me is not there, leaving me with a guy I've never seen before. I walk directly to the new comic wall and 15 seconds later the guy comes up to me and asks, "Do you need help finding something." At the very moment I had in my hands a copy of Captain America: Reborn #1. I could tell that he thought I was like a priest at a strip club, but I feel like when you have a copy of a mini-series (not a continuing, well-known series like Amazing Spider-man) that one can tell you know what you're doing. He must not have thought so!

I think Gwen Stafani had it right when she sang "I'm just a girl...that's all that you'll let me be."

If you rip my comic, will I not cry and Hulk-out and kick you in the tic-tacs/who-ha?
If you say Barbara Gordon is only good in a wheel-chair and not as Batgirl, will I not debate you?
If you try to throw me off by saying the Flash is Marvel (which someone did to me, true story), will I not correct and stun you that Flash is DC?

Thank-you Nerdy Bird! You make me feel, not quite alone!

I too have boobs and read comics,
~S

Day 17: Time for you to go...

So it's true, I was dating someone during the summer months. It was complicated from the get-go and way too many people were involved than should have been. I mean, when an entire class + class's instructor + family knows about it and there has only been one date...I'd say that's like a bunch of clowns shoved in a Volkswagen! So it began in June, a smooth enough road with minor debris like me preferring to remain a private person (and not having everyone know everything all the time), 5 hours driving between us, me not really liking his friends and that sort of thing.

After date 2, he actually gets slightly intoxicated around my brother (and my father is in the near vicinity) and tells my brother that "I like your sister quite a bit."

After date 3 I have rugburn...unpleasant!

Before date 4 he says, "do you realize we've been dating for a month?" My silent response, "Um, I'm pretty sure it's been 3 dates!" On date 4 he gives me some collegiate merchandise and accompanies it with this: "I've never given a girl any of this merch before!"

At this point, I am a little in the red zone. I am an admitted commitment-phobe and some of these signs are telling me to run away. I will not allow use of the B or G word (ie. boyfriend/girlfriend) and no label is put on this "dating experience." On date 4 I also express a dislike in one of his best friends, siting the fact that he tried to make a joke about my sister which was in extremely bad taste, and that I would prefer not to be put in any social situations with him. This conversation is one-sided (me) and he says nothing. Good talk! I mean, I was ready for a conversation, not a monologue!

Date 5, also known as Hell Date, or Waste of My Time, or The Breaking Point. I shall now revert to my scripting:

Boy: So, what are your plans for the day?
Me: What a queer question to ask someone who drove 5 hours to see you and has nothing else planned What are the plans surrounding the concert?
B: Me and G were thinking drinks at 5 and then pick G's girl up at 530.
M: Hmm, well, you can just pick me up when you pick her up.
B: It's actually easier if we pick you up first.
M: Okay, that's fine. But, I'm not really comfortable being in a car with people who have been drinking.
B: Then I won't drink.
M: Uh, then you'll be the driver! And frankly I'm angry at the fact that you would put me in that situation!
B: I'd never put you in that situation! And by "drinks" you do know that I meant one beer right?
M: You were going to put me in that situation until I said something! And obviously, no I did not think one beer.
B: I wouldn't put anyone in that situation!
M: At this point I feel like I'm 6 and going "nuh uh" and having someone return "uh huh" back and forth, back and forth
B: I'll tell you what. Why don't you and I go and just meet the other two at the concert.
M: pssh, they'll be better company than I will right now!

At the restaurant, being in a 3 on 1 situation (no, it could not, in any way, shape, or form be construed as a double date) was uncomfortable. I found myself unable really to add to the conversation since it was all about name dropping and things that had happened to them. I just stared out the glass toward the tv. I would look at someone if they were talking and attempt to get in the conversation, but no dice.

When I was home, I did apologize for making him uncomfortable with my silence, if that's what happened. He replied, "I think it was fine."

The communication slowed down a great deal before pretty much stopping all together. I had pretty much decided that we were not really the best pair, and because I wanted to tell him face-to-face but did not have time to drive 10hrs roundtrip just to do that, I thought a phone call would work. He is generally busy, so I thought I would text him a head's up, first.

M: We should talk sometime soon.
No response

M: Two days later Are you busy tonight?
B: Yea, I have studying and other stuff to do.
M: Okay, well, whenever you get free time, let me know.
B: Will do. Sorry I've been incommunicado lately, I've just been studying a lot and helping my brother deal with some things.
M: I understand.

I contemplated this last bit of information while I was with my mother. I mean, how long does it take to send a text? My mother responded that if she were ill I would not want to talk to anyone either. Perhaps he is really worried about his brother. This seemed like it made sense.

20 minutes later (no exaggeration at all!) I go on FB, check to see who of my friends is online, and lo and behold that guy is on? Um, I'm pretty sure that if my mother fell ill I would not be on FB or the internet, save my e-mail. These occurrences kept happening. I happened to be on FB more that week than usual and I would always see him on my chat list. And believe me when I say I wasn't purposely looking for him; I do have more important things to do than that! I might see him listed as "online" once or twice a day!

Where's the respect? Not having time is one thing, not wanting to talk to you is another! If you didn't want to talk to me, then perhaps you should have called me and we could have ended it like adults! So, after waiting a week for him to contact me (he should have been able to since it's not like he never has time off) I decided to just list myself as "Single" on FB. What else could I do? If he "doesn't have time" then I wouldn't really be able to reach him via phone, would I?

His FB status is still listed as "It's Complicated" so I don't really know if he has yet to change it, or he still thinks we're dating. My friends/family tell me to just "let it die" and not worry about it, but it is this uncertainty that is unnerving. I would prefer it to be said as over, rather then it stay in limbo.

Perhaps he'll talk to me after it's been a month. He seems to like month anniversaries!

Pondering,
~S

Day 16: The remains of the roses

Likes to feed deer,
~S

Day 15: Keep you damn clothes on, will you?

Look at this face:


Now I ask you, could you imagine such a sweet, innocent face being involved in a nude picture scandal? I know, right? Neither could I, and yet, it happened. I was quite shocked to hear about this, especially because I like Ashley Greene and feel like she's a down-to-earth actress who I could see myself being friends with. I also have high expectations concerning certain actresses. Now, I did not see these photos, nor would I want to, but the fact that they even exist make me said. *sigh* This is borderline as shocking as Anne Hathaway flashing some boobies in Brokeback Mountain! Let me explain: I do not enjoy seeing female nudity, especially on large screens. While I have gotten better about seeing it and not jerking away quickly, there are a few actresses in particular that if I ever see naked my life will be forever shattered. Here's the list:

1. Idina Menzel (though it was awfully close in Ask the Dust)
2. Reese Witherspoon
3. Anne Hathaway (too late...ugh! we're talking Princess Diaries flashing some skin here!)
4. Kristen Stewart (more because I just don't want to see it...o dear...I really hope there is some censoring of the C-section scene in Breaking Dawn...no wonder RPatz is so excited about doing that scene...)
5. Amanda Bynes

There are others, but I would rather not go into them. Mostly, it's the top three. After reading about this scandal, I ask myself some questions:

1. Why are you getting naked in front of someone?
2. Why are you getting that someone to take your picture?
3. Did you really believe that someone when he/she said they would only use the picture for their private collection?
4. Why did you get your picture taken again?
5. Did you not learn from all the other stupid people *cough* Vanessa Hudgens *cough*?

But why, Ashley Green, why did it have to be you? Alice would not do such a thing...

*sigh* This is why, when a guy I was dating asked for a picture of me in a bathing suit, saying that it would go in a safe place on his computer and he never lets anyone look at his private photos, I said..."um, definitely not!"

People, I beg of you, DO NOT ALLOW COMPROMISING PHOTOS OF YOURSELF TO BE TAKEN EVEN IF YOU TRUST THE PERSON. YOU WILL LIVE TO REGRET IT. I suppose it could be worse Ashley, you could have wanted to run for the presidency and then the photos got leaked. tsktsk

Depressed and a full person lighter,
~S

Day 14: Google is dangerous for the naive

Google and I have a love-hate relationship. If I need to find the official fan site for Ashley Greene, it can help me; what hair styles are best for my face, yes; when I can start wearing white, yes; how to deal with rug burn on the face and so on. However, there is also a seedy and dark side to Google, one that makes me never want to look up any sort of code word or abbreviation that may be innuendo. Let me explain.

Ex. 1: As I said before, I enjoy comic books...who doesn't? From time to time, I enjoy researching certain characters to get more of a back story on them, or to just familiarize myself with them. One day, I decided to look up Herman Schultz, aka Shocker. Shocker happens to be one of my favorite Spider-man villains. Now, as I am looking for a bio on Mr. Schultz, I am stunned to find this sexually explicit definition of what a "shocker" is! Two in the what and one in the where?!?! *blushes* Ahem, yea, uh Google? That's not what I meant!

Ex. 2: At one point, a creeper that I dated infrequently randomly texts me "Reverse Cowgirl?" Now, you have to understand that I am an innocent and naive person so I can't really imagine what the heck that is. I assume, mind you, that it is some sort of sexual position, but I haven't read the Karma Sutra and I've no idea what position he's talking about (nor would I oblige him). So, in order to figure out what's going on, I decide to Google...WHAT?!?! The girl is positioned how and does what? And it's for guys who have butt fetishes? *grows somewhat ill* Hell no, you creeper! Guys are odd! Whenever I repeat this story, my friends usually laugh at me and make it seem that they knew all along that they knew what "reverse cowgirl" was. I bet they had no idea either. I do still wonder why it's called "missionary," however...I mean...hmmm...

Ex. 3: I was frequenting a message board one day and one of the topics being discussed was the recent Wolverine movie. All the fans pretty much agree that we got shafted because they screwed up Deadpool (a fan fave). At one point, one of my friends is commenting on something and begins his post with "I'm a big DP fan..." The next post then comments on this, saying "Dude, keep that to yourself!" I find myself puzzled and confused (and state this on the thread) alongside the younger members of the board. I decide to research this abbreviation. Double what? I'm sorry...how is that possible? And why would a girl agree to that? *passes out*

So those are pretty much my terrible Google experiences! Each time I run away, frightened and wondering why the heck I Googled that thing anyway! I cannot warn you readers enough: if you come to something you don't know, and it seems like innuendo...whatever you do...JUST DON'T GOOGLE!!! Just pretend you know what's going on, and don't ask your friends...you'll feel better about your self that way!

And now, a word from our sponsor, Deadpool!DP love,
~S

Day 13: What if?

Sometimes I dabble in the art known as "comic books." The main publishers, Marvel and DC, both do hypothetical stories; DC calls them "Elseworlds" because it "takes place on a parallel world (like Earth-52, for example), and Marvel calls them "What ifs?" because they look at a certain event that happened and tell a different side of it (for example, "What if Captain America won the Civil War?" when Iron Man and the Pro-Registration side really won the Civil War (not the 1865 Civil War). I do not expect you to understand this, what I'm really trying to say is that I am about to write about a hypothetical event. Who knows...if this is well-received, perhaps I'll make it a series.

What if: Elphaba Went Berserk?

It was a sunny day, though Elphaba wouldn't know it as she was working in the hospital's cafeteria. Her jet-black hair was covered by an elastic hair-net, artistically decorated each day by Sharpies in order to best represent Elphie's mood. Today she decided to draw a butterfly with its wings ripped off in order to best represent her feelings that she was trapped and there was no way of escaping her current job situation.
As the lunch crowd began rolling in, Elphie thought about how wonderful it would be to pick up a bazooka from underneath the pile of instant mashed potatoes and blow all the complainers sky-high. Maybe an uzi? Maybe a rocket launcher? No, a bazooka! Glinda came by on her break in order to chat. Nothing much had happened so far to joke about, but they enjoyed spending time together. Glinda was the Daisy to Elphie's Venus Flytrap.

But problems always come; many times arriving on an unprepared doorstepped as a small package. A dwarf came to the cafeteria that day. Elphie's original thought was that she could pick up the little one, put it in a backpack, and go about her jedi-business like Luke Skywalker. That fantasy quickly skidded to stop as the dwarf rolled up to the counter and placed his one inch fingers and Jelly Belly sized head under the sneeze guard.

"Uh, sir, even though you can fit something someplace doesn't mean you should put it there. That very same thing got Bill Clinton into trouble," said Elphie.

"Excuse me? Did you just make a derogatory, no PC comment to me? Are you height-ist?" were the words that returned from the Carp mouth.

"Uh, no, I am not 'height-ist.' I separate my colored clothes from my whites when washing, that doesn't make me racist! I was just stating that you need to remove your head hands from the sneeze guard. It's there for a reason!"

"Whatever!" said the dwarf. It was now that Elphie realized there were going to be problems. Her hairnet began to itch, a sign that trouble was near. "I would like a hamburger."

"Well, unfortunately, they are not on the menu today. There's a nice McDonald's nearby, perhaps you could get a Happy Meal! It even comes with a toy," Elphie dryly said.

"I want a burger, dammit, and you better make me one or I will speak to the manager!"

"I am the manager!"

"Well....err, someone above you then!"

"Like God?"

"No!"

"Ok, so...hmm, let me get this straight: you're going to try to complain to someone who happens to stand between me and God?"

"Yes!" said the dwarf. At this point, Elphie was groping around the mashed potatoes looking for the bazooka. Fudge! she thought, I must have left it under my pillow at home. The last time I used it was to shoot that guy with H1N1.

Mentally kicking herself and deciding that this mousy person was not worth the trouble, Elphie decided to just make the burger.

The cafeteria seemed peaceful, but sure enough, Elphie's hairnet began a-scratching! The dwarf returned and complained about asking for a raw burger and getting one that was cooked medium-well.

"I don't know what to tell you," Elphie said, her patience wearing thin, "I don't normally cater to Hannibal Lecters, and that is what you asked for."

"It is not!" screamed the pint-sized bottle of flesh and bone, "And you better get it you...you EMO!"

At this, the Elphaba, the cafeteria, indeed, the entire world stopped. Elphie was not 'emo' and she would "gut a bitch" if anyone ever called her that. The last bit of her restraint snapped. She ran back to the freezer, retrieved some meat and threw it at the dwarf, creating a nice yamaka. She then began motor-boating each of the food selections and throwing large handfuls at each of the people in line. Her face covered in a macaroni-potato-green bean concoction, and looking like a plastic surgery gone wrong, she leaped over the sneeze guard and decided to look for more havoc to cause.

You must realize, readers, that in a hospital, creating havoc is quite easy. Elphie pulled all of the fire alarms that she could find. This act caused her to be sprayed several times by a red mist. Now, on top of her inbred-looking face (caused by the food), she looked like a crazy person with blood all over her. He stole a couple prosthetic limbs and began beating people left and right. Now, Elphie had morals, in a way; she would never hit a child or someone that was terminal. Instead, she went after the people with STDs and all the people in the workplace that she despised saying, "Take a foot to the face, Gonorrhea!" or "Maybe this leg can help you with your grunting, Slingblade!"

After a few minutes of this, Security was alerted. They didn't apprehend her, however, before she was able to break into the testing center.

"Have some boils to the face," she said as she threw a beaker. "Here! Find out what some HCl feels like on the who-ha!"

Left and right she was throwing urine samples, nut-filled stool samples, kidneys, livers, severed limbs. She was like a veritable baseball throwing machine, throwing everything and anything her hands touched, until she ran out of objects. The authorities leaped on top of her like a spatula on a stack of pancakes. She was handcuffed and fired in the same instant, and led away in a black and white. On her way out, she happened to spy the dwarf, meat on his face. She smirked to herself! I believe it was a good day, today! And I didn't lose my hairnet!

Luckily, there were no casualties. Many people did receive contusions from being beaten by a prosthetic limb, but nothing serious. Elphaba did some community service for her actions and is now attending anger-management classes, and well as learning to box in order to relieve her stress.


Sleep well, my Emo Fairy, and be calm, dreaming dreams that do not make your hairnet itch! Spare those who are innocent and "double tap" those who are 'skeevy' and disrespectful.

Dodge those prosthetics to the who-ha,
~S

Day 12: Alien Abduction

Eerie music plays

I'm about to tell you a tale. A tale of intrigue, and one that ends well. A tale that will have you searching the skies and wishing for an escape. Yes, this is a tale of an alien abduction; one which did not involve anal probing or artificial insemination (thank the Lord!). No, this was an abduction unlike any other, and one which I will always remember.

End eerie music

A silver ship pulled up, silent as a motor home, and the occupants exited. Both the aliens were of similar heights and both had body tattoos showing their accomplishments and planets conquered. One had red in its hair, signifying its fiery disposition and reflected in its eyes. Similar to Black Bolt (the Marvel Inhuman), this alien had the uncanny ability of being heard...whatever the circumstances. This alien's name was G. The other alien had a metallic stud on its face which could transform into a weapon, if needed. If removed, the remaining hole could also spurt out acid into the face of an unsuspecting enemy. This alien also had six pairs of eyes: one for protection against the harmful rays of the sun, one for night vision, and one for normal, everyday situations. This alien was called E. Both were from the planet Smalsp.

As I was shoved into the plush grey interior of the shuttle (complete with pillow and jacket!), I wondered if this would be the last time I saw Earth. The serpentine of G and the ensuing windburn on my face made me soon forget such simple things. We first landed at planet Shiattza where G and E decided to get some food. I'm sorry to say that they slaughtered, skinned, and cooked some strange beings (throwing in olives with the meat) which created a facsimile sandwich. I was offered sustenance but politely refused.

We proceeded on a 2.5 hour trip to someplace called Vigizazz Dinza. Along the way we encountered another being flying toward Vigizazz Dinza. E became annoyed at the pestering of the other alien and shot acid at it through its metallic stud. As I watched the other alien's face melt off like cheese from a pizza, I decided that it would be best not to anger E.

We arrived at Vigizazz Dinza and I was quite pleased; it felt homey! We dined. My meal had a lot of creamy sauce on it. E removed one pair of her eyes and ate her brown-colored meal. G expressed distaste for the brown sauce and nearly destroyed the server when the tube that is used for eating needed maintenance. I tried to mix a creamy drink with brown chunks for E but E refused and I could tell it wanted to spray acid at me for offering. Before leaving, E shot all three of us with some sort of sensor. I'm still scratching my head about that one.

The ship was refueled on the way back (to my surprise they were taking me back to Earth). On the return they subjected me to their planet's music which sounds a lot like hoarse screaming. There was a lot of communication going on between E/G and some other aliens back at Smalsp. E explained to me that purple nipples (reader, they have FIVE NIPPLES all together!) were considered beautiful on their planet. I hardly believed this and told them that perhaps they had a fungus and should get that checked out by a doctor before their nipples fall off! They merely laughed and told me that at least they have nipples, unlike the green, shape-changing Skrulls!

I arrived safely back on Earth, and thanked them for the journey. I learned a lot about the culture of their kind and would not take back the experience! So thank-you E and G, I hope that you abduct me again, soon!

Unprobbed anuses unite!
~S

Rant #1: "Bitchy little girls"

Ah, yes, ranting! I do believe that this is the very reason why I decided to start a blog (besides being creative and making people laugh, that is).

So what sparks today's rant, you say? Well, let me tell you! There are few things and/or people that I dislike to a rather high degree. One of those types of people are whiners! Yes, whiners; like "do you want cheese with that whine?" or "whoawhoawhoa, waitaminute, let me get out my tinny fiddle!" It seems that wherever I go, whiners abound. I go overseas: whiners. I go to Maine: whiners. I go to school: whiners. Seriously though, I think the only place I am truly safe is when I sleep, because my dreams do NOT contain whiners! So here's the story:

Once upon a time there was a pre-med student named Gigantor! While you may already have some pre-conceived notions about a pre-med student, I will tell you right now that you are incorrect; Gigantor is not like other pre-med students--I will just leave it at that. Well, Gigantor happens to have a stoplight party on Saturday. On Friday, he discovers that he has rounds on Sunday at 7am! STOP THE WORLD!!! Gigantor moans thus as to compare him to Linton Earnshaw from Wuthering Heights when he's sickly and on the verge of death for several months. At this point, I gaze out the window, wishing for the Rapture to happen at that moment so I would be spared...spared being Catherine Linton and having to listen to the moans. Were I to have said something, it would have sounded like this:

Dear Gigantor,

Suck it up (or grow a pair, whichever seemed befitting the moment)! You signed up to be a doctor! The hospital/God/and dead/dying/injured/suffering people do not care that you are having a stoplight party! Get over yourself. Doctors need to be selfless not selfish! I, myself, went to the midnight premiere of Twilight and had to go to work the following morning at around 6am or 7am. I did not complain as you are now. Please, cause me to suffer no more! Pray do!

Sincerely,
S

Harsh? Well, I'm sure it is. But, I have been putting up with whiny people for far too long! Do they not realize that there are people suffering more than they? People who, indeed, do NOT whine? For example, on several occasions in a foreign country, people would complain about their feet hurting. Why yes, we had been walking for a long time, but I was not complaining, and the bones of my large toes are crooked, causing immense pain after walking great distances. I dare say people would complain if they had everything they could ever want. How sad!

Greatly distressed,
~S

Day 11: "My Baby Hurt His Toe"

Ah, yes, once again my head created a little play for you all to enjoy. This play is based on true events (doesn't that phrase always make people practically claw their way to the box office?)! The events in this play took place over a 3 hour period, but I will condense it down to 5 minutes. I call this masterpiece:

My Baby Hurt His Toe

Characters: Blanche--a 30 something supervisor with an emotional hangover from her days as a 16 year old. Her inability to act the role of a supervisor tends to make the main character, S, care less about the things she does at work.

S--an apathetic 20 year old who sometimes feels like she's alone in the office (maybe because she usually is). S dreams of working with people who actually care about their job, get to work on time, and limit their personal calls. Paradoxically, S has begun making personal calls in order to catch up with Blanche; she is down 5 to ∞!

ADD--Need I say more? This teeny-bopper is the apple of his mother Blanche's eye. Looks are sometimes deceiving...

Slingblade--Do you recall a little movie by the name of Slingblade starring Billy Bob Thorton? Let's just say S can understand Billy Bob's character more than she can understand Slingblade. There also is an occasional flirtation between Slingblade and Blanche, though both are married.

Barney--The assistant manager and one whom you do not want on your bad side. Barney has an aversion towards nicknames.

Andy--The Man.

Setting: A 1990s style office with little to no room for two people to work together. The terrazzo on the floor is stained with mud due to the storm and a cool breeze finds its way through the office (due to cross ventilation caused by opening doors on opposite ends of the building). There is a small bathroom that could be a Motel 6, if their slogan was "We'll leave the light on for you...and the toilet seat up). Two smaller offices (with doors) lie across from the main threshold. There is a strange smell that pervades the office, and it would appear that the stench of Mrs. President lingers still. The weather is dark and cloudy; the Heavens occasionally open up with a downpour then zipper back up. Besides the rolling of the office chair on the terrazzo, silence pervades the office...

8:30 am
Blanche: Oh my God...Oh my God...Oh my God (from here on out typed as OMG, but Blanche continues her full deliverance)
Pause OMG...OMGOMGOMG
S: Looks perplexedly toward's Blanche's office and wonders if she should give Blanche a Vicotin...or if she herself should take one
B: OMG....OMG....OMG OMG OMG Ok...yea...I will. Bye...love you...bye.
To S: ADD fell off his bike___
S: A motorcycle?
B: No, a bicycle. I won't allow him to ride a motorcycle!
S thinks this may be for the best. ADD would most likely see a rabbit cross the road, leap off the motorcycle and chase after it.
B: He hurt his toe and now they have to REMOVE HIS TOENAIL!!!!
At this point, S studies Blanche and wonders if she is going to cry.
Blanche, to her credit, does not cry. For the next hour, Blanche tries to get in touch with her ex-husband in order to get ADD's insurance. She also tries her "wife-in-law's" (Blanche's terminology) number, but she has the incorrect number.
S: I'm a little concerned that you have your ex-husband's new wife's cell phone number!
B: Why? S sees no point in further conversing about this.

9:45am
By now Barney and Andy know about "the toe" (bum bum buuuuuuum). Blanche is on the phone, once again with her present husband.
B: Uh, huh...S does not actually pay attention to the conversation and works. Only when her name is called does she react. S? It's really bad isn't it?
S: Not really. I mean, all they do is shoot some syringes in the big toe to numb it and rip out the nail!
B: gags

10:00am
Moments later, Barney and Andy are out of the office. Blanche is walking around nervously and appears a loosed animal from the zoo, wondering what to do next.
B: Frantically ADD's hurt and in another state, I can't reach his father for his insurance card (the man won't give it to me because he'll think I'll do something with it), and I DON'T HAVE ANY CIGARETTES!"
S: Feigns shock and sympathy. In a voice resembling that of Daria: Oh, no.
Enter Slingblade. Slingblade hands Blanche an odd Styrofoam container which S later finds out contains a sandwich. At times, S watches Blanche chomp down on the sandwich like a masticating gorilla while she talks on the phone.
B: Oh God___Blanche, in a speech that audibly sounds like verbal diarrhea, spills out everything that has transpired in the last hour and a half in 2.5 seconds.
Slingblade: Wull yule jus goen home i’in ya needta.
S perceives this to mean "Well you just go on home if you need to."
A few minutes later, Blanche walks out of the office and S finds herself alone...yet again. S realistically deduces that Blanche went to find some cigarettes. S fantasizes that Blanche is like a squirrel, hiding cigarettes throughout the office's property.

10:15am
Blanche has returned to the office and is in close proximity to S.
B: Finds the need to whisper even though both Barney and Andy are out of the office Do you know what Barney said to me?
S: Clearly uninterested Hmm
B: He said, "So I hear ADD's getting his big toe remove." Now, the big toe? The part of the foot you NEED to be able to walk correc___
S: Actually, I think that's the pinky toe.
B: Disregards comment Can you imagine? He's getting his nail removed, but if it was his toe...Starts choking up. Tears are visible in her eyes. Why would he ask that? To think that his toe could be cut off and he would not be able to walk correctly for the rest of his life.
S: Wonders how she is the voice of sanity in this office. She also begins rating the emotional stability of Blanche on a scale from 1 to 10. The detector in her head beats rapidly and she cannot get a clear reading. Well, luckily it's just his nail and not his toe. He'll be ok.
B: Yea, but can you believe he asked me that?
S: Shrugs

For the remainder of the day things surrounding the toe begin to die down. There are calls made to and taken from pediatricians, faxes sent, sandwiches chewed, et al. As the hectic events of the past couple hours dawn on S, she really begins to contemplate how this Skittle-sized event was turned into one the size of planet Jupiter. S, who has ran into mailboxes and poles while playing baseball, hit in the head with a hockey puck, hit in the nose by a basketball and lacrosse ball, and fallen off of her bike repeatedly (not to mention has actually ridden a motorcycle AND has had pieces of her toenails removed), concludes her thoughts with this: ADD is a wimp!

End Scene

I hope that you all enjoyed this 5 minute play. Please leave any and all comments for the director and writer!

~S

Day 10: Ode to a Douche Bag

This ode is dedicated to all people with an XY chromosome pair who call other people "douches" or use it as a verb like "I was douched" and don't really understand what a douche bag is. This ode is more specifically dedicated to a guy I'd like to call Latent Homosexual, hither forth known as LH.

"Ode to a Douche Bag" (in 414 words)

O Douche Bag, how do you feel, being created for such a single horrendous purpose? Do you become frightful when heading into a dark, dank cavern? Certainly it does not compare to the Blue Grotto in Capri, Italy! There is no cerulean luminance to fit your fancy, no body of water to reflect the light from the outside and bounce it off rocks. An uncomfortable dampness attaches itself to you, Douche Bag, and you are unable to run away from it. How sad!

Does it alarm you to be confused for a catheter or a woopie-cushion? Have you lost all self-respect? Surely the fact that you come in a small assortment of colors (ROYGBV) must give you satisfaction. Be proud, also, that you have evolved from a simple squeeze bottle with a nozzle to a full-fledged bag with a tube! With your growth and adaptation comes also an increased paranoia and nervousness from the user. Oh, but that damn tube! Why, Douche Bag, can you not perform the maintenance on your own? I dare say that your ancestor helped me clean my ears and nose when I was young and sick. Sometimes I mourn the times when you were known for cleaning more crevices than just the one. However, there are people everywhere who applaud your ability at removing rank odors, and there are some of us who wish you were used more often. Indeed, if only Mrs. President could expect a visit from you soon!

Finally, Douche Bag, I am sorry for the culture these days. Douche bag has been converted to douchebag and made to imply a variety of negative qualities, specifically arrogance and as one engaging in obnoxious and/or irritating actions without malicious intent. Why just the other day I heard someone refer to the actor Shia LeBeouf as Shia LeDouche! What a transgression against your very nature! When someone gets splashed by a passing car, they exclaim that they were "douched!" I cannot comment on today's society Douche Bag, but I will treat your name with honor! The horror that your name brings to my mind will only be used on the worst of individuals! I have not met you on a personal basis, Herr Douche, nor do I want to, but keep on keeping on! You do the world a bit of good I think, especially when it comes to cleaning up our streets and keeping the world a less than smelly place.

Squeeze on Douche Bag, squeeze on!

~S

Day 9: Craziness in music

WOWZA! I pretty much fell more in love with Imogen Heap when I first saw this a couple years ago. Musicians deserve a great amount of respect, especially when they are able to turn nothing into multiple somethings. I don't know what I would do if I could not sing.

Your voice can be a powerful thing!
~S

Day 8: Does sauciness burn?

Out of the two covers shown above, I ask you, which one is a romance novel? The correct answer is: both of them?! WHAT??? I know, right? The one on the right looks quite innocent, and in reality is probably "warm" on a heat scale (I may or may not know this from first hand experience) and the one on the right looks down right HOT; like "ow, I burned my hand just picking up the book" hot, or "someone get a fire extinguisher, I believe my who-ha is ablaze" hot (but I swear upon all that is good and holy that I do NOT know this from first hand experience...though I know some people who do). What is this heat scale, you may ask. Well, let me tell you. A heat scale for RNs (romance novels) is as follows (I cite http://www.lib.byu.edu/sites/sampler/romance-rating-list/ for my definitions, but the book titles are my own):

Kisses: Nothing more than kisses. My made-up example: "My Pretty Pony Finds a Date"
Subtle: No explicit sensuality. Kissing, perhaps touching, but physical romance is described in general terms. The emphasis is on how lovemaking made the characters feel emotionally, and not on graphic depiction. If lovemaking occurs, it is alluded to rather than described, so that the reader’s imagination becomes paramount. My made-up example: "Mr. Magoo and His Accidental Gropes"
Warm: Moderately explicit sensuality. While our lovers do make love, and the reader is there with them, physical details are described, but are not graphically depicted. Much is left to the reader’s imagination. Emotions and feelings are most important. While there is sexual tension, there may not be more than one or two love scenes in the whole book. My made-up example: "What Happened AFTER the Magic Carpet Ride in Aladdin"
Hot: Very explicit sensuality. There is an expanded focus throughout the book on sexual feelings and desires. The love scenes are longer, and there are at least 2 or 3 of them. The characters often think about their sexual feelings and desires, and making love is graphically depicted. Both the emotions of the hero and heroine and the physical feelings of both are important during love scenes. My made-up example: "The Ignorant Tourist and the Ever-Watchful Orangutan"
Burning: Extremely explicit sensuality. Sexual feelings and desires are strongly focused on and some books in this category have sex as the primary focus. The details are thoroughly graphic, and may include what some readers might consider kinky. My made up example: "Those Ashes on the Floor Used to be My Loins."

Now, you may want to change this scale around and perhaps rate them on a scale of "Sauciness." As Glinda will tell you, this is quite possible. At this juncture in my blog, I would like to create my own version of the "Sauciness Scale:"

S: It can't even spell Saucy.
Sauce: It's more of a noun, rather than an adjective. Like "goat."
Saucy: Yeaaaa, getting into the good stuff.
Texas Pete Hot Sauce: One may need to consume water/milk while reading!
Sauce for the Poison Oak on My Who-Ha: That's right...beware of Fabio and his effects...

I know that people often wonder/judge the readers of RNs. Are they stodgy housewives with little "spunk" in their sex lives, or are they old maids that look like Bellatrix and these novels are
their romances. One cannot say. The people I know who read such novels certainly fall into neither category. Frankly, I actually wonder about the authors of the RNs. Um...I'm pretty sure you could get arrested for some of the ideas that are put down in those books. If I'm ever curious about a particular book I may pick it up and skim through, and on several occasions I have put it back on the shelf, pulled my shirt over my face and ran to the children section in order to regain some part of my naive/innocent self that I may have lost in those short moments. Sometimes I look at the pictures of the authors and talk to them. Here is an imaginary conversation I may have:

Me: Soooo, I see most of your characters wear protection. *clears throat* I respect that you're subtly teaching readers about responsibility.
Author: Yea, well, you learn early on that if you need to do research for a book you need to be safe about it.
Me: *slightly uncomfortable* So, um, do you brainstorm these scenes or do they pop into your head or how exactly...
A: Pretty much I think of something and try it out to see if it makes sense or not.
M: *growing more uncomfortable* I see.
A: Yep, plus, I have practically every ______ channel known to man!
M: Oh dear Lord!
A: I know! Who knew there were 127 of those channels?
M: I think maybe you're too saucy for me...I'm going to put you back on the shelf...
A: Wuss!
M: Freely admitted!

END SCENE

So yea. I will ask this of you. Next time you're in a bookstore, just visit the RN isle and look at the pictures of the authors and you tell me what you think. It is also funny to think that there are men writing RNs (Nicholas Sparks) and authors with pen names! I think I would try to get other people to stay away from RNs; I hear they can be addicting and I don't want any of my friends (including me) to fall down that hole. There are a couple of descent authors out there, however, who deal with social issues as well as romance (like Susan Wiggs). Those are ok! However, if you find yourself getting a novel at Walmart or a supermarket...you're lost my friend, and I'm afraid there is no going back...

Happy to hold out a rope for you,
~S