Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
Yes, I can hear ALL OF THIS.
And chewing gum. Ho. Ly. Crap.
There have been many a time when I've been sitting on the subway and have had the great fortune to have some great cow sit next to me, snapping and chewing their cud. Now, when I use the term "cow", this does not just apply to females - many male bovines have filled this description. And I am aware that a male of that species is called a bull, but when you chew gum like a fucking animal, you are a cow.
And I must add that it is not just other people eating. I need the TV or music or some other distraction on so I can't hear MYSELF eating. As a result, I am a very quiet eater.
Now, don't get me started on other noises, like people sniffing snot up their nose, the sound of Styrofoam rubbing against itself and the sound a lozenge makes when it clicks against the inside of people's teeth.
See, if I had any less restraint, I'd leave scores of bodies in my wake, instead of just screaming obscenities and making people feel bad about their lives and upbringing.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
- "Let me be honest with you . . ."
- "The truth will set you free."
- "It's always in the last place you look."
- "Listen . . ."
- "Near miss."
- "Strictly prohibited."
- "This is just a shot in the dark . . ."
- "It's like shooting fish in a barrel . . . "
- "It'll be a piece of cake . . . "
- "You can't have your cake and eat it too . . ."
- "Very last."
Thursday, December 16, 2010
I hate the phrase "I'll sleep when I'm dead". Why on earth would you want to do that? First off, how do you know that you can sleep when you're dead? Or that sleep has the same sensation and satisfaction as a good sleep-in till noon while you are still alive?
A friend of mine told me recently that when he has only a couple years left in his life he is going to stay awake as much as possible. In my opinion, that is a terrible idea! So you'll spend the last years of your life, which are probably already a questionable experience to begin with, sleep deprived and cranky, just because you want to "live life to the fullest"?
Why not spend those last few years enjoying the feel of pillows and blankets and sheets and all that good stuff? I mean, they call them restless spirits for a reason, people!
What if in the afterlife, there is no sleep? What if you spend eternity as a half-awake, half-asleep, exhausted, cantankerous wraith? And its all because you didn't enjoy sleep when you could have, because you shunned sleep as a living being.
See, this is why I don't believe that God wants us to deny ourselves. Some religions forbid certain foods, men touching women and so on. I think God (whoever and whatever that is) wanted us to eat good food when we want to eat it, fuck who makes us happy and enjoy the presence and company of our fellow man, because in the end, all we have is each other. We have what we gave to the rest of the world, not what we denied ourselves.
Although I do know what my own personal hell would be, if the afterlife does come down to that. I would be exhausted and trapped in Times Square on New Year's Eve. Oh, and I have to pee. And I am surround by tourists and someone has stolen my wallet and it's cold and awful and there is no escape! For the rest of eternity.
Damn, this got all philosophical again. Next time, irreverence all the way!
This video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HRfjLfyXYlA
I'll give you the gist of the video. It opens on a black man and a white woman in an elevator. The black gentleman narrates the video, saying how much he hates it when he gets in an elevator with a white woman who moves away from him and clutches her purse all the more tightly, just because he's black and she thinks that because of this, she is in danger.
Let me say, to begin, that I do understand where this video is coming from. I have seen this behavior, and to have it be a knee jerk reaction has got to be annoying. However, I think I speak for most women when I say, this is not a behavior that is limited to black men.
If I am in an elevator, by myself, depending on the time of day, if a man who is a stranger to me gets on the elevator with me, I will be a little more on edge. Black, white, Hispanic, it doesn't matter. As a woman, I have to protect myself and if that means becoming hyper-aware when a stranger gets in a small confined space with me, I will assume a defensive position, racism be damned.
And you can't tell me that black people feel completely comfortable in all situations with white people. I am sure if a black person was walking down a country road in the south and saw a group of white men standing by a pick up truck, holding a piece of rope and a banjo that they wouldn't feel a little uncomfortable. Well, that was just the Southern Men's Jump-Roping Chorus, and they were on their way to a competition. Yeah, and their truck was broken down, and you could have stopped and helped them on their way, and they were sure to win that show-down, but because of your inferences, they lost.
Who's racist now?
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Today is one of the days I hate living in New York City.
I work for a yoga studio in the city for my money job, and as I was signing in a class - a very busy class I must add - I got a little bit of that New York magic.
I had just fixed a problem in someone's account, and I look up to the elevator to see four drunken idiots dressed as St Nick falling over each other into our studio. I asked them what the fuck they thought they were doing. (Nicer, of course. This is a yoga studio.) One of them replied, "Oh, this is the wrong floor, we need to go up to the 4th floor!" There are only four floors in this building. We are on the 3rd and 4th floor. Naturally, being the conscientious manager that I am, I ask them what the fuck they want on the fourth floor? Nicer, of course, as we do try to promote peace and harmony through physical expression. One of the sloppier drunken merry old elves kindly replied, "Relax, bitch, my brother's up there."
The only other space on the 4th floor is a single large room that the landlord stashes his mistress and illegitimate son. Here I had a dilemma, as mouthing off to the landlord's brother, however soused he may be, would be frowned upon. On the other hand, there was no telling if the fine, upstanding gentleman slouching against the wall before me with a bleary stare and a crooked beard even knew what building he was in.
I was busy at the desk, so there was no time for me to chase them up the stairs, but I sent one of my co-workers up there to make sure they didn't cause too much trouble.
They did anyway. Turns out they had no relation to the landlord at all and I missed an opportunity to make a group of tanked Santas cry. I threatened to call the police and they left, with more than one choice word hurtled in my direction.
I ask you, is there anything worse than a drunk asshole? Why people drink to that extent is beyond me. I have never been a drinker, alcohol has never once appealed to me. It has nothing to do with my family or anything, my dad never came home blind drunk, my mother didn't drown her disappointment in me with a bottle of gin (she would tell me sober and to my face) - I simply never had the desire to drink.
Plus, that alcohol taste is awful.
It just amazes me that people go out of their way and spend a good deal of money to get shit faced. What a lovely term, by the way.
Alcohol is a depressant. It slows you down, and enhances whatever you are feeling. So, if you are sad or angry or - heaven forbid - depressed, you are going to feel that emotion all the more, but with the added benefit of not having a censor button, so you're going to talk about everything you're feeling.
Even if you are feeling happy and jubilant, because of the way alcohol works, you are going to feel like shit - emotionally and physically - at some point.
I am not saying that no one should drink or we should go back to the days of prohibition or anything like that, I am simply pointing out the folly of this adult "recreation". Some people drink just to get a little buzzed and feel good, some honestly enjoy a good wine or a good scotch - these people are not like the girl who vomited in front of my fiance and me on the subway last night.
Explain to me why weed is illegal?
Thursday, December 9, 2010
For example, I can watch a movie once or twice and I can replay the entire movie back in my head. Let’s take the astoundingly fantastic film Rob Roy. Many people who have seen it could recall the pinnacle scene between Liam Neeson and Jessica Lange. They may even recall the lines – “How fine you are to me.”; “And you to me!”. But can they remember the way Liam Neeson gazes at his wife, as injured as he is, wounded to the soul, the way he holds her face in his hands as she is his only salvation. Can they remember the little gasp of joy that escapes from Jessica Lange before she says her line as she realizes that her dearest husband still loves her as much as ever, even more for her strength and courage. Her relief and joy are palpable in each breath and word. How about the way the firelight shines off her hair, or the single tear that falls from her eye in the beginning of her line?
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Equality is what this country is all about. We as a nation were built on the idea that no one is shown preferential treatment, no one is held higher than another.
I think we all know what I am talking about here.
On behalf of both Halloween and Thanksgiving, I must order the winter holidays to cease and desisted.
Its been happening little by little, my friends. Every year its gotten worse. At first, it was just a couple if Christmas ornaments in TJ Maxx in late September. We’d look at them and say, “Hey, that’s awful funny to see those this time of year!” Slowly that one shelf in the discount stores grew to two shelves, and before you know it, we have an entire section of the store completely dedicated to the major winter holidays of the major religions.
Halloween has never gotten the due it’s deserved in hundreds of years! One of the most ancient of celebrations, the Celts honored Samhain as far back as 800 BCE. That’s before Christ, bitches! With the veil between worlds at its all time thinnest it was a time to dress up in scary costumes to keep evil spirits away, to go door to door to gather food to offer to gods and build BIG ASS bonfires. Can’t we allow ONE DAY for this without sullying it with Christmas waiting in the wings to pull it off stage with one of those big hook thingies. We are messing with other worldly shit here, people!
All I am saying is give credit where credit’s due, keep the winter holidays in the winter. Let them stay on their side of the line!
Later, I’d like to talk about how rabbits laying eggs has nothing to do with Jesus' zombie –like rise from the grave.
I’m looking at you, Easter!
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
Do you think if the wolf man smoked pot right before he turned into a werewolf he would become just a really mellow puppy? He’d still be all big and scary looking but he’d just want to go for car rides and get his belly scratched.
You know, pot could totally be the cure for monsters all over the planet. The yeti would just want to drink hot chocolate and see how many marshmallows he could stuff in his mouth. Vampire teenagers would draw inappropriate things on vampires who were sleeping in their coffins, giggling incessantly the whole time. Mummies would show off how they can laugh and have their brains come out their nose.
Zombies we would probably still have a problem with, they come with built in munchies. As a matter of fact, how do we know that zombies just aren’t high in general? The slow, shambling walk; how easy distracted they are; wanting to eat everyone’s brains and not being happy with one serving. Maybe we have just never seen a zombie somber.
Frankenstein’s monster would be a total buzz kill though. He already goes around talking about how miserable he is, and how he’s all emo about being a monster and all. See, he’d be an alcoholic. Getting all weepy and depressed. It’s like, come on, man, you’re a monster, you were given a second chance to be large and creepy, you have a built in Halloween costume and you’d make a fortune writing really depressing poetry/philosophy.
His poetry would probably be really popular with emo high schoolers. It’d be stuff like:
My soul is my own,
But who’s body am I in?
Fingers, toes, nose
They belong to another.
I’m alone in this stranger’s body.
My stitches itch.
It’s so hard to be friends with people like that. You know the ones, their lives are terrible and nothing can ever help them. I can’t stand it. I knew a guy once who would call me all the time telling me how he had a terrible life and his parents hated him and he didn’t have a girlfriend and how he wanted to kill himself. No matter what I said, no matter what option I put in front of him, he would tell me why it wouldn’t work. Finally I told him to just kill himself, cause I was sick of hearing him complain.
After his funeral I decided not to become a therapist.