Parents

I am not referring to my parents, although there are days that we should all hate them.

I am referring to the parents with young children, the parents that just LOVE to be parents, the parents that update you on things that Johnny-poops-his-pants does everyday, the parents that probably have a blog dedicated to their snot-nosed kid (it is the new baby book. don't you want to see the word through his eyes?)

BREAKING NEWS: Loving your kid will not make him any smarter than your dumb ass. Oh how I love to watch/hear a parent telling me how smart his/her child is while the child is simultaneously sticking his hand down his pants, or eating things off the floor.

Unless your kid is a true genius, and is doing things that I can't do (not counting fitting into small places; that's not a fair fight), I really do not care.

(this baby would qualify)

http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2004/11/24/60minutes/main657713.shtml
(this kid is also an exception to the stupidity of most)

The higher the pedestal you put your spawn on now, the faller it will fall when it wrecks your car, gets (self or someone else) pregnant, and destroys all its already doomed brain cells drinking/drugging.

The younger the parent is, the worse the case is. I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR ABOUT HOW GREAT YOUR LIFE IS WHEN YOU HAD A BABY AT 14. unless you are Lorelei Gilmore, your child is probably funked (kudos for approp language?), and will just continue the cycle of stupidity that you have prematurely started.

I guess it's cool that you love your kid and shit, but please do not try and make me love it too. I am sure it is cute (I think i was born without the female gene that makes babies look like anything but really small old men to me), but my cat is also cute, and it pisses in my bathtub.


Maybe it is rewarding to ruin one's body (and bank account) and unconditionally love (SERIOUSLY?? NO CONDITIONS ON LOVE??? wack.) something that may (if you are really, really lucky) mention you in its wedding speech (to some other dumbass, to continue the cycle of dumbass) and will probably (definitely) forget to get one a mothers' day card.

He/she will also probably wreck your car (hope you don't like BMWs!)

Someone pinpoint to me when the rewards start of being a parent (before or after you invest tons of money for it to go to school and get a drinking problem?), and then maybe I will understand why the hell someone provides and brags about their little creation.

I am still lost as to why someone thinks it is a good idea to have his/her DNA continue on to make more mistakes in the next generation.

STERILIZE YOUR CHILDREN. END THE CYCLE.

g$

Stupid Fan Page of the Day

http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1566870258#!/pages/i-bet-band-kids-can-beat-choir-kids-to-1000000/270525044693?ref=sgm

i bet band kids can beat choir kids to 1,000,000!!

I think I just threw up a little in my mouth. This is where fan pages go to die. There MAY be ten redeeming people in this group.

A band kid enthusiastic enough to join a page dedicated to defeating a page dedicated to choir kids is a true gem.

I would suggest you [at this very moment] go to your friends list [right now, I'm not kidding] and make sure that you are free from any friends in this group(and if you are, now is the time to send them a strongly worded letter detailing your ultimatum--it's me or the group. . . then make them promise to tell no one if they choose the group over you; just defriend in peace).

ugh. the thought of band kids fighting chorus kids makes me about as awkward as they felt at prom. I better bounce, before i the tulle and polyester gives me a skin rash, and I remember that I have to take out my retainer before I french kiss.

VIBRATE (ZZZ)

So, I am sitting in class, trying ever-so-ardently to pay attention to the professor when I hear
. . . zzz . . . zzz

I look over and blondilocks(She isn't fooling anyone with her dark roots, and she increasingly reminds me of Eminem's beloved Kim) is texting away on her phone.

She puts her trusty cellular back into her lap, so that no more than one minute later I can hear a reprieve of
. . . zzz . . . zzz

LUCKY ME: this activity continued for the duration of the entire class.

It is really quite hard for me to learn about childhood personality disorders while Blondi (with a heart over the "i", duh!) writing a damn novel (xCepT shE prObAbLi rOtE iT lyKe DiS).

Honestly, any amount of vibration that is taking place in the lap region should be confined to the bedroom or bathroom. I do not feel it necessary to be present during Blondi's private vibration sessions.

I feel(no pun intended) the VIBRATE setting [aside from private time] is for times that one is in public and too embarrassed to let his or her ring tone be heard(I really think i hate 9/10 personalized ring tones I hear; the exception being that Geico commercial ring tone. I really can't get enough of that ring a ding ding ding di dong).

While I have undoubtedly been guilty of utilizing technology while my professor is trying to cram information into my noggin, but at least I put my phone on silent and then [obnoxiously] check it every time [that I think] I see it light up. It really provides more excitement for the texter as well (is that flash of light just the sun, or is it. . . could it be. . . A TEXT MESSAGE).

The bottom line is: we all must make distractions for ourselves to prevent actual learning from taking place in the classroom, but the key rule in the distraction game is to distract yourself while remaining undetected to others simultaneously trying to learn/distract themselves.

It's a delicate equilibrium maintained in the classroom. Do not let your good vibrations shake things up.

PLEASE STERILIZE YOUR CHILDREN

g$

Stupid Fan Page of the Day

http://www.facebook.com/search/?flt=1&q=10+lies&o=65&sid=677500524.2981322305..1&s=10#!/pages/Im-scared-to-speak-to-you-first-because-i-just-feel-like-im-annoying-you-/248978870848

"Im scared to speak to you first because i just feel like im annoying you :|"

Grow a set. If you don't have something worth saying, there is a good chance that you may be annoying.

joining a facebook fan group dedicated to your passivity is definitely a better idea than putting yourself on the line. Forget talking to your "true love;" there is an app for that.

If you can't talk to the person that makes the butterflies go crazy in your large intestine, use your hand . . . joining that facebook fan page is not going to make her look at you (unless she is laughing at you). However, if you use your imagination, she's wild about you (oooh, she's been a bad girl, and she wants to show you just how bad.)
See? The five minutes you spent actually looking for a page as stupid as this one could have been much more productive, and solved at least one of your problems.

As for contacting someone before she contacts you? There's really nothing like a friendly hello to send me into a rage of annoyance.

KEEP YOUR FRIENDLY GREETINGS AWAY FROM ME.

the only things that cause me more pain than someone contacting me before I contact him/her is lack of apostrophes and passiveness

ANTS

oh shit. It's that time of year again.


I thought I saw one in my kitchen. and then I realized that I didn't see one; I SAW TEN.

. . .ANTS.


(The above would be a wonderful intro into a horror movie about ants)


Since I have been in fifth grade, I have had two major fears: spontaneous human combustion. . . and ants. My fear of ants, I feel, is quite logical (or at least more logical than the fat lady on Maury who is afraid of kittens and aluminum foil)


There are 10,000 trillion ants in the world: approximately one million ants to every human, and an ant can lift fifty times its body weight. Hypothetically, it would only take four million ants to carry a man (and if ants get super strength when they are mad, like humans [in the movies and in lifetime tv shows] do, maybe even less)



Ever since my youth i have been stomping on these suckers, spraying them with Windex, making my cats eat them, finding any way to efficiently kill them. They always looked shifty to me; clearly I have excellent judgment when it comes to insects.


This activity could, quite possibly, cause the MIB (Men In Black for the n00bz) effect: ants enraged, directing said rage at yours truly. If the ant community knows of my utter disdain for spindly little six-legged bodies and they all find a way of communicating (which they probably already have), I am so screwed.



Over a million ants live in a colony. What if the Windex Colony and the Kitty Colony have spoken and have taken out a hit, already?



The way ants follow each other? . . . TRAIL OF URINE. Great. They are going to piss all over me and then kill me.

My exterminator told me this (at least there are a few people who are going to be ahead of me on the hit list).



ANOTHER SCARY THOUGHT: The slave-maker ant. Named because it invades the nest of other ants and steals their fetus ant-lets. Once the "pupae" hatch, they are made to work as slaves at the colony of the slave-maker.


. . . if I decide to repopulate (yeah, right) I should not be surprised if an ant swoops in to steal baby Gwen Jr. to turn her into ant slave? I AM SO, SO DONE FOR (actually, she is done for, and i guess it serves me right, for trying to pass on my DNA).


I'm just saying, we, as humans, have been trying to get this little pest to leave our picnics for years, and we have been unsuccessful as of yet. The tables on the economy turned . . . what if our relationship with ants is next?


Some say the world will end in fire[ANTS],
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire[ANTS]...


maybe Robert Frost's work was censored to keep human kind in the dark about the end of days.




What if MIB was right, and bugs really are related to aliens? They helped us build the pyramids, and we show them thanks by having people whose entire profession is dedicated to the eradication of "pests."


GOOD GAME, WORLD.


It has been great run, but there is no way I am sticking around for the sick, twisted activities the aliens/ants are going to put us through. When the UFO lands, you'll find me hightailing it to Antarctica (Ants are never during the winter, right?)



Word to the wise: When you see Polyergus Rufescens (the slave-ant), TURN. AND. RUN.

Save your posterity the trouble and sterilize your children

g$

Stupid Fan Page of the Day

http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=591246588&ref=ts#!/group.php?gid=346013334063

Seeing someone standing on the edge of the pool and HAVING to push them in!

This picture looks like fun in the sun... but trust me, the look on that man's face is one of shock and horror at the fast-approaching ice bath that is the pool.

It goes on to describe that this fan page is for pushing in the people that are just asking to be pushed. Unless someone has explicitly asked you to push him or her into the water, chances are, he or she does not want to unexpectedly enter the water (especially if the iphone/blackberry is in his/her pocket)

Why do you want facebook to represent you as "that guy" at the pool? I'm sure you are the same "that guy" that drinks the last beer, puts the empty carton of milk back in the fridge, and has a nickname like Big Tony.
. . . Big Tony, please understand that when you shout "BIG TONY IS HERE!" people are wincing, not smiling. Please keep your friends dry, and maybe they will start telling you about the secret hangouts they have behind your back.


If you are a fan of this, what I learn from you is that you a) take joy in the plight of others (actually, this could be a good thing) b) I never want to be around you when I am around a body of water . . . especially ones with sharp rocks. c) AS USUAL, you don't understand grammar. You cannot not change the singular (person) for the plural (them).

Stop pushing people into the cold, uncharted deep, and pick up a 7th grade English book: hopefully it won't be too advanced, Big T.

Gas Prices

"Gas prices, Gwen? are you serious? everyone and their grandmother hates gas prices."

. . . well good thing granny doesn't have a blog





I know, I know, but [please,] stay with me. . . I think I have a problem, more than a problem . . . A DISORDER: GPG (Gas Price Guilt). What is this terrible affliction? Due to the mutual hating of gas prices by all (seriously, an infant told me, yesterday, that he was trading in his tonka for a hybrid), every time I around my family and the topic of gas has been brought up, my parents immediately inquire as to how much gas was where I filled up my tank. I usually give one of two answers


1) I don't know
2) The wrong answer


In reality, number one is part of number two, but I will elaborate anyway. (1) My parents tell me that I need to be more aware of how I am spending my money, and then illustrate to me how much money I could have saved by driving out of my way (when my gas light is on [and probably has been on for 18 miles. . .]) to a certain gas station, and then I am overridden thinking about all of the things I could have bought with my extra five buxx (5 things at the DOLLA STO'.. if I brought my own change, a sweet pair of WAL-MART sunglasses or earrings, a shirt at rugged warehouse--if any of these stores want to contact me for advertising: jump on it.). (2) See number one, minus the "I need to be aware of how much money I spend," plus them gloating how they still know how to find sales better than their little girl, and stupid advice I have to listen to about gas prices, which often segways into ways I should live my life. . . as conversations with my parents usually do.


Either way, I leave the conversation upset about my [lack of] money, and annoyed because (as usual) I lose.


HOW DO I DEFEAT GPG??



Firstly, it is important that you realize that your self-worth is not tied to the price at which you filled up your tank (it is tied to the clothes you wear and your shitty music choices, of course). Secondly, pierce your face. All conversations from here on out can become about how stupid you are for adding a spare hole to your face, allowing the topic of gas prices just slide right by.

The conversations can go like this:
MOM: do you believe these gas prices? How much was it when you filled up?
SPAWN: I dunno (and mom, I do not care. I don't even know WHEN I last filled up, much less care about the price, over which I have no control)
MOM: You don't know? These are things you should take note of. It is wise to be careful with your money
SPAWN: What can you expect? I am dumb enough to have metal protruding from my face.
MOM: Good point.

DAD: I filled up at 2.63! How much was gas when you fueled up?

SPAWN: 2.75

DAD: HA! I saved two dollars on you. Not that I'm surprised.. does the hole in your eyebrow make it hard for thoughts to stay in your mind?

SPAWN: it really does.

Although your parents will undoubtedly be disappointed in you (as per usual if your life is entertaining/fun, whatsoever), at least it will be because of something you remember or care about (?), like the pain of needles jabbing into your skin. Plus, you'll get the bonus of having other people (young mothers, small children) avoid you, because facial piercings undoubtedly lead to the piercee becoming a rapist and/or murderer.

Truly, a win-win situation.

If your grandparents would have sterilized their children, none of this would be a problem.

g$

Stupid Fan Page of the Day

Torturing Yourself With Sad Music When Your Super Depressed

http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=591246588&ref=ts#!/pages/Torturing-yourself-with-sad-music-when-your-super-depressed/366363058018?ref=mf

Are. You. Kidding. Me?


1) admitting to the fact that you are ever "super depressed" on facebook: lame.


2) you "like" or are "a fan" of doing this?

3) becoming a "fan" of a group that does not understand the grammatical difference of your versus you're


If I was ever torturing myself with depressing music if I ever became sad (and there really is no better song for this than Gary Jules' "Mad World" on repeat), i would hide in darkness, only to emerge a truly lovely butterfly.


Allowing the world to see a representation of you as a weak, whining bitch?


LIKE: if it means I get to make fun of you (which I will)


DISLIKE: being friends with someone dumb enough to sing this grammar-challenged fanpage's praises. . . in public.

DIVAZZ

DIVAS. Now, in my youth, I had learned that the term diva was for operatic singers. However, as I grew older I heard the word increasingly associated with female celebrties: Mariah Carey, Donna Summer, even M[r]s. Jennifer Lopez [-Anthony] (Is anyone else surprised she's still with Marc Anthony? I didn't know one COULD downgrade from post Gigli Ben Affleck).


I didn't, at the time, think it was a good thing. Usually they used "diva" to describe their need of white rooms, candles, only green M&Ms, small servant boys (no less than 4 feet tall but no more than 5 feet, please) in their trailers. Surely high maintenance COULD NOT be a positive, . . . right?



There must be something wrong with my definiton, because as I sauntered out of my gym today, feeling healthy, yet craving a krispy kreme doughnut, I saw a girl no more than eleven with a sparkly diva shirt and a [matching] diva hat (I do give her props for her matching skillz at such a young age; at eleven, I still thought that floral print and stripes matched, and there was nothing wrong with highwater pants). This girl is adorable! Why would she want to be known as someone who is demanding, or an opera singer? Maybe she has a beautiful voice, but somehow i doubt that is the message she is trying to convey.



I must consult WIKIPEDIA: knower of all important/unimportant trivia.



"A "diva" is a celebrated female singer. The term is used to describe a woman of outstanding talent in the world of opera, and, by extension, in theatre, cinema, and popular music The meaning of diva is closely related to that of "prima donna"."


SEE: Prima Donna: "Legendarily, these "prima donnas" (prime donne in Italian) were often regarded as egotistical, unreasonable and irratable, with a rather high opinion of themselves not shared by others."


. . . I AM RIGHT!


The question now is, why the hell are people parading around with diva stamped to their shirt/jewelry/attitude. . . especially the future of America?














Is the goal to dissuade anyone who ever may want to enter a relationship with the diva? Maybe it is secretly the work of young girls' fathers, trying to keep boys away from their daughters, by referencing her neediness and "egotistical, unreasonable and irratable" nature. Somehow I doubt that is the goal since the girls wearing such "divawear" end up looking like .... let's use the phrase "ladies of the night" or NOCD (Not Our Class, Dear)




These girls have just attended a "diva party," and they totally don't seem like a girl who, inte the future, will make her boyfriend call her "princess."

In conclusion: The phrase "diva" needs to die unless being used by singers of arias; I already hate people my own age with superiority complexes. Must we create a generation of more of them?


Please, parents...


sterilize your children.

g$

Stupid Fan Page of the Day

It is just overkill to say any more on this topic

http://www.facebook.com/?ref=logo#!/pages/That-mood-when-you-just-dont-feel-like-texting-anyone-back/308438584527?ref=sgm

I am always in "that mood" where I just don't feel like texting anyone back. So I don't. I'm not a fan of it. If it comes to town and sells tickets, I won't wait in line for it.

New Rock

What is "New Rock"? Since I could find no complete definition (for closest approximation, see: "Alt" Rock) I will flood you with examples:

ShineDown
Three Days Grace
NICKELBACK (seriously? this is a real band?)
Linkin Park
Puddle of Mudd
Sixx AM
Seether

What do these bands have in common, besides a serious need for spellcheck? Simple guitar chords that all the coolest dudes can recreate at home on their yamaha guitars that mom bought them for Christmas.

While I'll admit that I once recieved a Yamaha guitar for Christmas (and you bet your bottom dollar I can't play one note on that sucker), I do not kid myself into thinking I am a rising star. Shame on you [insert terribly named EXTREME new rock station] for letting fetuses think that because they can copy four chords and scream into a microphone that they, too, can be a musician. Shame on YOU, listeners, for also encouraging kids to do this. Most importantly, shame on you, idiot kid in my class, telling me you like bands like Breaking Benjamin--and not being able to answer who benjamin is and why he his being broken.

If you ask me if I know/care about Breaking Benjamin, I WILL write you off in my book.

. . . and trust me, I do have a book.

parents, do yourself a favor and sterilize your children.

g$