Saturday, December 31, 2005

it's almost over

So, I spent much of today (much of the last week, actually) studying for and then taking a test for my idiotic job. It sucked really hard, it gave me BIG black ass hickeys, but I passed that fucker and now I am free to eat Japanese food and get shitfaced tonight without feeling like instead I should be stabbing myself in the face, I mean studying.

I'm awfully fucking ready for this year to be over. I promise I will try to cut down on all the cussing soon. In the meantime, because I love to make lists, here are a couple for you:

My Most Depressing Moments of 2005:
  • My gym closing.
  • Saul Bellow's death.
  • My car accident(s). Hey, yeah, funny story: around the beginning of this year, there was a Christmas tree on the freeway and I ran right into it. This caused me to buy a new car which, six months later, I crashed into a mattress on the freeway and then into another person's car. I'm sensing a lesson in this somewhere, but I can't... quite... make it out...
  • Finding out Arrested Development is probably going to be cancelled.
Things I Did In 2005 That I Never Did Before, Which I Don't Regret:
  • Got contact lenses.
  • Joined a gym, figured out I sort of like to exercise.
  • Got heavy into sushi.
  • Discovered entire blogs dedicated to cute animals, and
  • Completely checked out from my job.
Things I Did In 2005 That I Never Did Before, Which I Am Not Yet Sure About:
  • Turned 27, or as I like to call it, "Almost 30."
  • Started a blog.
Happy New Year, folks.

Wednesday, December 28, 2005

since we're working through this aggression together

Here are ten things that I fucking hate right at this moment:
  1. Christmas
  2. Insurance
  3. When my boss brings his 7-year-old ADD-riffic son to the office
  4. This guy I work with named Michael Jordan, or, hey, do you want to hear my pet name for him? It's Sexual Harassment Man.
  5. Coldplay
  6. Republicans
  7. The cuntly ignorant dicktwatting suckbags at Fox who are cancelling Arrested Development
  8. Being 27
  9. How other people want you to be all involved in their lives and all that crap like that
  10. Insurance again, times 10 hundred million billion
And, okay, I'm starting to feel like I'm coming off as a really negative person, so in a most-likely-doomed-to-failure effort to balance out that list, I offer you a list of ten things I beastly love right at this moment:
  1. Arrested Development. Write a letter, people!
  2. Hedgehogs! Cutetastic!
  3. My sister (Congratulations, little lady)
  4. Henry James
  5. That part in Motorhead's "Sex and Death" where Lemmy says, "Show 'em your guitar!" and then Phil "The Zoomster" Campbell plays a wicked awesome guitar solo. Ah, Lemmy, Lemmy, Lemmerton. 60 years of age and still lumpy as the day he was born.
  6. This video
  7. That my father is possibly marrying a woman named Janet Jackson
  8. Marzipan
  9. That time when that bum with the gigantic fuck-all beard stopped me on the street and told me I was beautiful. Yes! I'll always have that.
  10. And finally: Jude Law! Jude Law! Jude Law! Jude baby, you know you're only man-whoring in a misguided attempt to fill the me-sized emptiness in your life. Judey, Judey, Jude, you know it as well as I do. Why are you fighting this?

All right, I'm better now.

portmanteau words

Dearest reader! If you're like me, you spend a lot of your valuable time insulting people, and wish you could get back just a little bit of that time for yourself. As an act of charity during this holiday season, I wish to bestow upon humanity -- absolutely free of charge! -- the gift of my revolutionary insult-time-saving process. Let me go ahead and give you a step-by-step:
  1. Stick two offensive words together.
  2. Eliminate as many syllables as possible from the middle of the mutant word you created in step 1, while still retaining the essence of its meaning.
  3. Yell the resulting string of syllables in the general direction of someone you're pissed at.
I guarantee this simple technique will save you time at the office, in the mall, and on the freeways and byways of our fair nation. A few representative examples:

Fucktard. It's exactly like calling someone a "fucker" and a "retard," but because it has 50% fewer syllables, it is twice as efficient!

Fuckbag. Just like calling someone a "fucker" and a "douchebag," but, again, twice as efficient!

Wanktard. "Wanker" + "retard" -- you get the picture!

Douchetwat, cuntbag, dicktard, etc. These are only 25% more efficient than using two different insults, but 300% as fun to say!

Now, go out and try it yourself. I guarantee you will be able to insult more people in less time. If you're faced with an utter asshat and find yourself drawing a blank, just try appending the suffix "-tard" to the end of the insultee's name. "Stevetard." "Marktard." "Larrytard." Seriously, if you know someone named Larry, please call him Larrytard for me. I will feel it happen and be just a little bit happier.

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

this isn't what it looks like

Hello there. This probably looks to you like a blog. But I promise you, it's not. It's another thing entirely, and it just happens to look like a blog. It's a, you know, I mean I'm just using the blog hosting service because I, erm. It's another thing completely, trust me, I am not that kind of a girl.

Oh, okay. So, yes. This sort of is a blog. But only sort of. I mean, I've started a blog, but I haven't, you know, started a blog. You know what I mean. I couldn't very well start a blog after making fun of bloggers every single moment of my life since I first heard the word "weblog," and certainly not after giving my good friend Jesus-kabillion metric fuck-tons of shit a few months ago for starting one. That's all I'm saying. So....

Okay, seriously? I still sort of hate bloggers, but self-hatred is nothing new for me, so I actually don't feel too weird about this. I tried to fight the urge to talk about myself to the internet, but at some point I realized I just couldn't remember what I started fighting for. This is like the time I went around saying how much I hated Charles Bukowski for about a year, until I actually read more than one of his poems, and decided I secretly was in love with him. Of course, then I had to decide whether to keep my love a secret, or to tell everyone what a horse's ass I'd been.

Which is a decision I'm now faced with again, of course. Do I confess to everyone I know that I've given in to navel-gazing in this particularly sick-making way, and prepare to -- well, not actually eat any crow, but at least cleverly hide it in my napkin and feed it to the dog under the table? Or, do I bury my secret shame in the infinitely forgiving flesh of the Internet? Ahh, the internet, like a prostitute, she will keep my secret. Even if everyone I know is visiting the same prostitute. The internet, she's very professional. Ew.

Ah well, the decision can wait. In any case, I hope you imaginary people that live in my computer have enjoyed this, my very first Weblog Posting To The Internet. If you like, you may imagine me humbled and penitent for my sins against the blogging community of which I am now a sheepish part. But I'd prefer that you didn't.